Turns out, too, that Lance has a last name, Turner, and a brain as agile as that lean, athletic body. He made me laugh, and he made me sweat. I’d like to see him again.
I’ll have to find some appropriate way to thank Culebra.
Glowing from the infusion of healthy vamp blood, second only to a human’s in restorative powers, and feeling comfortable in my skin for the first time since the fiasco with Gloria started, I sink into a deck chair and take in the view.
I live in Mission Beach, steps from the boardwalk. I was a sophomore in college when my grandmother died and left me her fifty-year-old cottage. I’ve lived here ever since, though I had the place rebuilt after the fire Avery set destroyed it a while back.
I love it here. Sometimes, in the summer, it’s a bother to be interrupted by some half-drunk partier, leaning on the doorbell to ask to use the bathroom. When I was human, I’d threaten to call the cops. As a vampire, all I have to do is show my true face and I never have a repeat offender. Never.
In winter, however, it’s different. I think it’s odd that winter in San Diego is considered the off-season. True, there is the overcast and the fog, a blending of shades of gray that often makes it hard to determine where the sky ends and the ocean begins. But the air temperature seldom dips below sixty and while the water isn’t warm, it attracts a better surfing crowd. Not the sun-worshipping, hard-drinking, noisy, young hordes of summer, but a mature, serious, respectful group who honor the ocean rather than attempting to beat it into submission with their boards.
Wow. I hold the warm cup in both hands and press it against my forehead. That was almost poetic. Must be a combination of the fog rolling in picturesque swirls off the water and the calm that comes from a satisfying night of sex.
I know this glow won’t last long. Williams said the were Sandra was coming to see me. Then there’s David and his angst. I don’t want to think about what kind of mood he’s going to be in. Hopefully, if he comes into the office, it won’t be with Gloria in tow.
The telephone rings as I’m about to go back downstairs for a second cup of coffee. It’s my cell phone. I grab it up and keep going, glancing at the caller ID. I expect to see our office number or David’s cell number, but instead it’s one I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
There’s a moment of silence before it’s broken by a breathy, “Anna?”
Great. Gloria. I resist the urge to disconnect and turn off the phone. “What do you want?”
“I need to see you.”
“I don’t want to see you. We have nothing to talk about. Are you with David? Does he know you’re calling me?”
Another silence. “I haven’t spoken with David since I left you both at the restaurant.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you know how worried he is? I can’t believe you didn’t call him as soon as you were released last night.”
This time, the quiet at the other end of the line stretches on so long, I start to think we’ve been cut off, but then I hear a sharp intake of breath followed by a sob. “Gloria? What’s going on?”
A small, shaky voice whispers, “I wasn’t released. I’ve been arrested.”
I don’t have to ask for what. “Jesus, Gloria. Did you talk with a lawyer yet?”
“Yes. David sent his lawyer last night, and he referred me to a criminal attorney. A Jamie Sutherland. We meet this morning.”
“So, why call me? You should be talking to David. He’s probably crazy with worry.”
There’s a short, brittle bark of mirthless laughter. “No. He won’t want to talk with me. You haven’t seen the morning paper, have you?”
I’m in the kitchen now, and my eyes go to the front door. I hadn’t bothered to pick up the paper yet, but I do now. The rubber band breaks in my haste to get at the paper and flies up to smack my chin.
“Damn it.”
Gloria starts to whimper. “I know. I know. I’ve been such a fool.”
She thinks I’m cursing her. Good. I shake out the front page and hold it up, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Oh, fuck.”
This time I am cursing her. The headline blares: “Gloria Estrella Arrested for the Murder of Billionaire Partner.”
In slightly smaller print, the headline continues: “Wife of Rory O’Sullivan Says the Motive Is Love Affair Gone Bad.”
“Love affair, Gloria? I thought you said you slept with him one time.”
This time, when she doesn’t respond, it isn’t such a big surprise.
CHAPTER 14
GLORIA IS SOBBING SOFTLY. I ROLL MY EYES BUT don’t say anything. She sounds scared. For some inexplicable reason, I don’t feel like rubbing it in. I toss the newspaper in the corner and lean against the counter. I’ll give her a minute. Christ. I must be getting soft.
The minute passes. Gloria is still snuffling. Patience has its limits. I don’t intend to spend my morning listening to her spit and sputter into a telephone receiver.
Against all better judgment, I ask, “Why did you want to see me?”
She sucks in a noisy breath. “You need to know what happened between Rory and me. It isn’t what you think.”
“Oh, no? Are you telling me you didn’t have an affair with O’Sullivan?”
She hiccups. “Well, okay, it is what you think, but there were extenuating circumstances.”
This is not getting us anywhere. “You know what? I don’t care. You should be talking to a lawyer. Or a priest.”
“I will talk to the lawyer. First I need to explain it to you. So you can explain it to David.”
“Oh, no. I will not be a go-between. You made this mess, Gloria. You need to clean it up.”
“I’ll hire you.”
“For what?”
“To find out who killed Rory.” She lets a heartbeat go by before blurting, “You can do it. You know things. You have contacts. The police won’t investigate the way you can. They have no reason to. They think I did it. Even Rory’s wife thinks I did it.” She laughs. No mirth in the sound, only bitterness. “She came to see me last night. All Rory’s talk about an open marriage was evidently just that. Talk. As far as Mrs. O’Sullivan was concerned, Rory was an altar boy. She’s going to do all she can to pin this on me. I need someone on my side.”
Boy, she is desperate to think I’d be on her side. “So, let me get this straight, you want me to help David—”
“Not David,” she interjects quickly. “You. David can’t know what you’re doing.”
“And how do you think I can hide this from him? I see him every day, remember?”
Her voice drops. “I don’t think you will.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“David is gone.”
“Gone?”
She makes another gulping sound before exhaling in a noisy rush. “He left town.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t talked to him.”
“I haven’t. He went to police headquarters this morning and left a note for me with a cop he knows. He saw the newspaper. He believes the story. He thinks I called him yesterday because I knew what would happen when the story broke.”
The realization makes my spine stiffen. “You did, didn’t you? You wanted to make it look like you and David were still together. For the press. To refute the affair story.”
She pauses. “Yes.”
That admission is so unexpected, it catches me completely off guard. I don’t know how to respond. This time the silence on the line is my doing, a result of my fevered brain trying to accept that Gloria is actually admitting she fucked up. A brand-new experience.
I feel my resolve start to soften. Not out of sympathy for Gloria, but for David. Poor shmuck. He’s probably off somewhere nursing his wounds. First he thinks he has his girlfriend back, then he finds out she was using him to deflect suspicion if she found herself in this predicament.