Frost didn’t say anything, but he felt a stab of guilt that he tried to keep off his face. It didn’t work. Tabby took a moment to catch up to what she’d said, and then her eyes widened with regret as she saw his expression. “Oh my God, Frost, why did I say that? Please don’t think I blame you. It’s not your fault.”
He waved off her comment as nothing, but he still blamed himself for her situation. When he’d met Tabby, she had not only been Duane’s girlfriend but also an up-and-coming chef at one of the city’s top restaurants. Then Frost had faced down a killer who’d been holding a knife to Tabby’s throat, and the only way to rescue her had been to fire a shot that hit both of them. Tabby survived, but the price was permanent nerve damage to two of the fingers on her right hand. She was never going to cook in a professional kitchen again.
“Really, I’m sorry,” she went on. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know that.”
“I owe you my life.”
“You don’t owe me anything at all,” he replied.
She looked away again, obviously upset with herself. He felt as if he’d made her bad day worse. It drove him crazy that when she was sad, all he wanted to do was comfort her. He knew Herb was right. He needed to find a way to shut down his feelings for this girl, or it wouldn’t end well for any of them.
Duane returned from the food truck with a mountainous plate of smoked meat sliders. He put the plate in the middle of the picnic table and pulled off a small piece of meat from one of the sandwiches to slip inside the cage for Shack. He took a seat again next to Tabby and put his hand over hers. Frost was surprised to see a small flinch from Tabby as he did so.
“Crisis averted,” Duane announced. “I told Raymonde to add cilantro like it’s a disco song. More, more, more.”
Frost bit into one of the sliders. “Well, you can tell Raymonde this is delicious.”
“I will.”
“By the way, are pigs flying?” Frost added with a wink. “Is this a first? Did Duane Easton really hire a male sous chef?”
“Hey, I only hire the best,” his brother protested. “Raymonde is the best. Man or woman, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Duane followed up that outrageous lie with a look that said, Why are you torturing me?
Frost grinned. No matter how good a chef Raymonde was, Frost was pretty sure that Duane was trying to keep temptation far away from the Easton kitchen. Everyone knew his brother’s sexual history, including Tabby. He expected her to deliver a smart comeback at Duane’s expense, but instead, she let it go and said nothing, which was unusual for her. She separated her hand from Duane’s and took one of the sliders, but she put it down without eating.
Then her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and said softly, “I better get this.”
“Work?” Duane asked.
“Yes, I’m trying to nail down another chef for the catering job next weekend, so I could be a while. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure,” Duane replied. “You staying at my place tonight?”
“If you like.”
“I could be late getting home.”
“Then I’ll see you when I see you,” Tabby replied. She waved at Frost and Shack and headed for the gates of the food truck park with her phone pressed to her ear. Duane’s eyes followed her as she disappeared.
“I am a lucky guy,” he said.
“Yes, you are.”
“Did you ever think you’d see Duane Easton settling down?”
“I didn’t,” Frost admitted.
“Me neither. Miracles really do happen.”
Frost finished the smoked meat slider. “Everything okay with you two? Tabby seemed a little off tonight.”
“Did she?” Duane shrugged, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. “You don’t look so good yourself, bro. Did you find out what happened to Denny?”
“No, not yet.”
Duane shook his head. “Pretty strange, though, huh? Him and Carla?”
Frost’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? What about Carla?”
His brother looked angry with himself for bringing it up. “Oh, crap, you don’t know? I got a call from her brother in Houston. He and I knew each other in high school, remember? We reconnected on Facebook a while back. Nice guy. He and his wife just had another baby.”
“Duane, what about Carla?” Frost repeated.
“I’m really sorry, bro. Carla’s dead. She killed herself.”
Frost felt the news like a blow to the head. He had to dig down in his chest and find a breath. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. It’s awful, but come on, not a complete surprise, right? I mean, she tried once before. That girl was never all there.”
All Frost heard was a roaring that drowned out the bluegrass music and the laughter around him. He thought he was going to be sick. “When?” he asked.
“Well, that’s what’s so weird. I mean, what are the odds of her and Denny dying on the same day?”
“Carla killed herself yesterday?” Frost asked.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Frost. I figured you already knew about it.”
“I didn’t know anything about Carla. What happened?”
“Her brother didn’t give me details. He said she killed herself, that’s all. Does it matter? You weren’t there to save her this time. Her brother got a call from the Berkeley police to break the news.”
Frost’s head snapped up. “Berkeley?”
“Yeah, that’s where she was living,” Duane told him, but Frost was already on his feet. He grabbed the carrier with Shack and pushed away through the crowd.
10
Frost was so consumed with the news about Carla that he didn’t notice someone waiting for him near the driver’s door of his Suburban. He was parked in the shadows, and he was practically at his rear bumper before he saw a silhouette move away from the SUV in the darkness.
It was Tabby.
Her shoulder-length red hair had a deep shine. She wore black leggings shoved into knee-high leather boots and a dark-green knit sweater. She was half a foot shorter than Frost, but the heels on her boots made her tall enough to stare at him eye to eye. In the space between them, he breathed in her floral perfume. Tabby had a gift for looking at ease wherever she was, and any awkwardness she’d shown in the food park was gone now. She cocked her head and gave him a casual smile and a little wave.
“I thought you left,” he said.
“Well, I wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry. I was stupid to say what I did in there.”
“You’re entitled to feel angry at losing a big part of your life.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not angry at you,” Tabby said.
“Forget it. You don’t need to worry about me. Did you solve your catering problem? Did you find another chef?”
“Oh, I did,” she replied with an annoyed roll of her eyes. “At a ridiculous price, of course. But the guests want dim sum, and they shall have it.”
Tabby squatted down in front of the cat carrier and used her slim fingers to open the door. She reached inside and pulled Shack into her arms. She hugged the black-and-white cat to her chest, and Shack stretched up his head and began licking her chin. “I miss this guy,” she said.
“Obviously, he misses you, too.”
“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Tabby pointed out. “Why is that? Is something wrong?”
“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
“Are you heading home?” she asked. “Done for the day?”
“No, I have to go to Berkeley. I need to check into something over there.”
“Oh. Do you want company?”
“You want to come with me?” Frost asked.
“If I wouldn’t be in the way.”
He hesitated. Saying no was the smart thing to do. Spending any time at all with Tabby was risky. He didn’t know where they stood with each other, and he didn’t dare find out. One time, just one time, she’d asked if the two of them had a problem, and there was no mistaking her meaning. He’d lied and said no. Since then, she’d acted as if there was nothing going on between them, and maybe for her, there wasn’t. Maybe this was all in his own head.