Racing the Light, page 10
“If the gardeners watched Josh’s place yesterday and again today, they’ll probably watch it tomorrow. They might even be watching it now.”
Pike sipped his beer and nodded.
“Might be worth a look.”
He sipped again.
“Unless you scared them off.”
I grinned.
“Did you make a joke?”
Pike checked his watch, giving me nothing.
“I’ll take a look after dinner.”
“One more thing.”
Pike waited.
“The nineteen minutes. They were in his bungalow for nineteen minutes, but nothing was disturbed or missing. Nineteen minutes is a long time to stand around doing nothing.”
“The meatball and the scarecrow?”
“Yes.”
“If they took nothing, maybe they left something.”
It made sense.
“If they planted a listening device or a camera, they’d know if Josh went home.”
“Josh. You. His mother. Whoever entered.”
I didn’t like it, but Pike was right.
“Be nice to know if they left something.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Can you do it without them knowing?”
To find a surveillance device, Pike would have to enter the premises. But when he entered, he’d trigger the device.
“Not me. But I know someone who can.”
We heard a car pull up outside my house and Pike tipped his head toward the street.
“They’re here.”
18
We met them outside as Lucy and Ben climbed from a dark green rental car. Ben flashed a great huge smile and threw his arms around me.
“Elvis, oh, man, this is great. I miss you.”
“Me, too, bud. Look at how big you are.”
Even as I hugged him, I watched his mother. Lucy Chenier was as beautiful as the day we met. She had played collegiate tennis at LSU and moved with natural grace. Smile lines fanned from the corners of her amber eyes and soft lines bracketed her mouth. The lines had deepened, but they added a richness that made her even more attractive. Her auburn hair was streaked with highlights.
Ben went to Joe, and Lucy and I traded smiles. If something was wrong, I didn’t see it.
I said, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Your hair is shorter.”
“A little.”
“Looks good. It’s good to see you.”
We shared a polite kiss and hugged, and she turned to Joe. Ben returned to their car.
“Mom! Open the trunk. Let’s get our stuff.”
Ben and I wheeled their bags into the guest room. He noticed the picture.
“Think you can still press me over your head?”
“With a crane.”
He grinned and turned back to the photo.
“Arrowhead was fun. We should go.”
“How long does the program at UCLA last?”
“Only a week. But maybe I can come back this summer.”
I squeezed his shoulder.
“I’m happy you and your mom are here.”
I let go and nodded toward the kitchen.
“C’mon. I’ll bet you’re starving.”
“What’s for dinner?”
“Tacos.”
“Tacos!”
Lucy and Joe were in the kitchen. They’d been talking, but stopped when they heard us coming. Ben dove on the chips and salsa like a starving hawk.
Lucy said, “I heard the magic T-word.”
“You did. Carne asada, pollo, and fake pollo. All we need to do is fire the coals and put the salad together.”
I took a bag of sliced zucchini and squash from the fridge.
Pike said, “Hold off the coals. Ben and I are making a beer run.”
“We have beer.”
“Not the right beer. C’mon, bud. Grab some chips for the road.”
Ben scooped a mound of chips into a paper towel and shot me a look as he followed Pike out the carport door.
“Mom wants alone time so you can talk.”
Ben pulled the door as they left. The house suddenly felt like a deserted island with only the two of us onshore.
Lucy said, “He reads minds.”
“He reads signs. Want to talk in the living room?”
“I couldn’t sit.”
Lucy went to the counter and crossed her arms. She wet her lips, and glanced away. She was nervous and her being nervous made me fearful.
“If you tell me you’re dying, I’ll kill you.”
She blinked.
“Oh, no. It’s Richard.”
The ex.
“Fine. Richard is better than dying.”
“Not by much.”
Her eyes hardened the way they did when she charged the net.
“I am mad. I’ve been mad since that despicable man did what he did and I hate this.”
She closed her eyes and raised a hand, stopping herself.
“How about some water?”
“Gin.”
I poured two on the rocks. She held her glass with both hands.
“Richard is writing to Ben. Did he tell you?”
“He has not.”
“A letter came to the house last year. Thank God I saw it first. Here’s the return address, prison. I was beside myself. I wanted to shred it, then and there, but, honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I hid it. In a shoebox.”
I didn’t know what to say so I nodded. Lucy hadn’t mentioned the letters, either, but Lucy had tried to keep Richard out of our relationship since the beginning.
She said, “Then a second letter came. And a third.”
“The shoebox?”
“The shoebox. I finally told Ward and he suggested I read them.”
Dr. Ward Berteau was Ben’s shrink. Ben began suffering from nightmares and anxiety attacks after they went home, and Berteau helped mitigate his PTSD. Ben seemed fine now, but I only saw him two or three weeks each year. I didn’t live with them.
“Has Ben seen them?”
She took one breath and sighed it out.
“After I read them, we read them together with Berteau, there in his office.”
“Ben seems fine to me and he hasn’t mentioned the letters or his father.”
“He never mentions his father.”
“It must be painful.”
“He didn’t seem interested. It was very mechanical, as if he was detached.”
I didn’t know what she wanted from me.
“Are you looking for my opinion?”
“I’m just telling you. I’m concerned. Every few weeks, another letter arrived and we’d read it with Berteau. Ben finally refused to read them. He said if I made him read the letters he’d stop going to therapy.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, he didn’t want to read the letters. They probably make him sad or unhappy or angry. They probably hurt. I don’t blame him. He’ll read the letters if he chooses to read them or he won’t. He’s growing up. He’s almost grown.”
I ran out of gas and felt embarrassed.
Lucy did not move or react. She seemed to be watching me. She watched for a very long while. The right corner of her lips curved into a gentle smile.
She spoke so softly I barely heard her.
“Do you know what scares me?”
“Clowns?”
“What frightens me is the power Richard still has over Ben.”
“The father.”
“Ben put Richard into a box just as he was put in a box, and buried him so deeply he can’t even talk about him. Because he’s afraid. And now Richard is trying to wheedle his way back into Ben’s life. Ben needs to be stronger.”
“So you dug up this program at UCLA so you could ask me to help with Richard?”
“No. No. I dug up this program so Ben could spend more time with you. He loves you.”
“I love him, too.”
“I know you do. You’re a good, decent, wonderful man, and you’re good for him.”
Her eyes grew pink and blinked.
“Luce.”
She raised a finger, the finger saying she needed to keep going.
“The decisions I’ve made about Ben and myself and you and our moving back to Baton Rouge were made with good reason. What happened with Richard, yes, but there was Sobek and that time you were shot and almost died.”
This was old ground. The one time, a lunatic named David Reinneke tried to kill me with a shotgun. He came pretty close. Another time, the police found Lucy’s name and address at the home of a killer I was trying to find named Lawrence Sobek. We had talked these things to death.
“A miss is as good as a mile.”
“It was a nightmare.”
“Close, but no cigar?”
“Don’t joke. That’s what you do. You joke. These things happened.”
“You didn’t need to concoct a reason for us to be together. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”
She blinked faster, but the blinking didn’t stop her eyes from filling.
“Yes. Other men would’ve moved on.”
Lucy studied the ice in her glass, then set the glass on the counter.
She said, “I love you, you know. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
I nodded.
“I know. Me, too.”
We stood there in the kitchen, neither looking at the other, and did not move until Joe and Ben pulled up with beer we did not need.
19
We settled into a friendly, familiar rhythm as we cooked. The beer probably helped.
I grilled the meats and veggies, brought them inside to chop, and set out the chopped meats in separate bowls. Lucy and Ben added the veggies to the salad and made the dressing. Pike sliced limes, diced onions, and minced cilantro to top the tacos. Pike’s knife skills were impressive. Each slice of lime was identical. He transformed the onion into precise, uniform cubes.
I said, “Le Cordon Bleu–quality work.”
Pike said, “Yes.”
The cat came through his cat door, saw Lucy and Ben, and jumped sideways as if he’d been shot. He spat, his hair stood up, and he let out a deep, guttering yowl.
I said, “Stop that!”
He flashed through his cat door at a dead sprint, but stayed on the slope below. Growling.
Lucy said, “Well, he hasn’t changed.”
We built our own tacos in the kitchen, served ourselves salad, and ate on the deck in the deepening twilight. Lucy relaxed still more. She told funny stories about the partners at her firm and bragged about Ben’s skill at tennis. Ben laughed and told funny stories of his own. He seemed fine. Lucy seemed fine, too. I tried to seem fine, but probably didn’t.
After dinner, we cleaned the dishes, put away the leftovers, and returned to the deck. The evening was winding down. It was two hours ahead for Lucy and Ben, and Lucy dropped hints about the hour.
Pike said, “How long will you be here?”
“Two nights, tonight and tomorrow.”
She glanced at me.
“Though we could stretch it to three.”
She went back to Pike.
“I hope we’ll see you before we leave.”
Ben said, “Yeah.”
“You will.”
Pike checked his watch and looked at me.
“I’d better get moving.”
Pike said his good-nights and let himself out. Lucy and Ben assumed he was going home. He wasn’t.
Lucy said, “We’d better hit the sack, young man. Early start tomorrow.”
Ben suddenly pointed up.
“Is that a helicopter?”
A tiny gold speck floated above the canyon, but without the telltale red or green of a helicopter or an airplane.
I said, “I don’t think so. No running lights.”
The speck crossed overhead like a drifting balloon.
Lucy said, “It’s Tinker Bell.”
“Stop it, Mom.”
Ben pointed to a different part of the sky.
“Check it out! There’s another.”
A second gold speck appeared from the opposite direction, drifting toward the first. They were high, but I couldn’t tell how high. They appeared tiny, but the dark sky offered no reference.
Lucy suddenly pointed behind us.
“Look! Another! There’s three.”
Ben and I twisted to see.
The third speck moved faster. It arced directly to the first and circled it.
I said, “Drones. Gotta be.”
Ben said, “This is really cool.”
The second speck reached the third and the first, and the three specks froze in a perfect equilateral triangle.
Lucy leaned back to watch.
“Someone’s giving us a show.”
Ben turned fast and pointed again.
“Wow!”
A fourth and a fifth speck came fast from the east, barely clearing the trees. They dropped beneath the ridgeline, streaked through the canyon, turned ninety degrees, and shot straight up. They joined with the first three, forming a perfect pentagon.
I said, “Listen.”
Lucy and Ben looked at me.
“Hear anything?”
They traded a look and shook their heads.
“We should. Drones sound like bees and they’re loud.”
The five specks drifted toward us like balloons in a gentle breeze. They moved as one, retaining their perfect pentagonal formation, and stopped directly above.
Lucy pushed me with her foot.
“Did you arrange this?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
We tipped back in our chairs, watching. The five gold specks hung motionless, almost as if they were watching us.
They vanished.
Ben yelped.
“Hey! Where’d they go?”
I studied the area where the lights had vanished, but saw no glints or movement. I listened, but still heard nothing.
“Maybe they didn’t leave.”
He looked from me to the sky.
“They turned off the lights?”
“That, or they’re aliens.”
Lucy said, “I vote for E.T.”
She stood.
“Show’s over, buddy boy. Gotta be fresh for the Bruins.”
Lucy hooked an arm around his waist and I followed them into the house. Ben hugged me and the three of us said our good-nights.
I watched them disappear into the guest room, closed the sliders, locked the house, and set the alarm. I put out dry food for the cat, filled his water bowl, and climbed the steps to my loft.
The cat was crouched on the top step. Sullen.
“They’re going to bed. You’re safe.”
He did not acknowledge me and did not move. I had to step over him.
When I came out of the bath a few minutes later, he was curled on the foot of my bed.
I shut the lights, climbed into bed, and looked out at the canyon. I saw house lights on the far ridge and hillsides, and the glittering city beyond the ridge, and the brilliant black sky. The drones had been invisible once their lights went out. They could have left and they could have stayed. I didn’t know. We often couldn’t see the things in front of us, no matter how hard we tried.
Sleep did not come quickly. I thought about Lucy and Ben. I tried to see us together the way I had once seen us together. I wondered how Lucy saw us and whether we saw the same thing.
20
Jon Stone
2240 hrs
West Hollywood, CA, USA
Jon Stone, rock god.
Now up on his rotation: “Play That Funky Music” by Wild Cherry.
Jon jerked and whirled to the beat pounding his home above the Sunset Strip like a one-man boy band wrecking crew, every cell in his body a pulsing celebration. Jon Stone, naked as a jaybird, sixteen days back from a security stint in Turkmenistan on the northern Iranian border, had banked so much cash in the past twenty-four hours he buzzed with a burning energy.
And play that funky music
’Til you die!
Jon Stone sold death. Jon, who had spent thirteen years with the U.S. Army’s Special Forces, six of which as a Delta Force officer, was a private military contractor. As such, he sold the services of those who could deliver death and those who could defend against death. Business was booming.
Rotation change: “Money” by Pink Floyd.
Jon rolled with it, and sang with the band.
Money
It’s a gas
The pullout from Afghanistan had created a security panic. Corporations with vulnerable assets in nearby countries were offering contracts at mind-blowing rates faster than a minigun sprayed bullets. Think of Jon Stone as an agent for mercenaries. For every contract he filled, he got a piece of the action. He had filled twenty-six security contracts in the past thirty hours, all from the safety and comfort of his black-and-steel home. No risk to life and limb required.
Jon’s home was a sleek contemporary above the Sunset Strip, resplendent with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors, Carrara marble floors, and a glittering pool. The house overlooked the broad expanse of the Los Angeles Basin and was totally private. Jon preferred to be naked when he was home. Currently, his only adornment was a headset Bluetoothed to his computer. If someone phoned, his computer instantly muted the music, allowing him to conduct business. And dance.
Rotation change: “Thank You” by Sly and the Family Stone.
Hell yeah!
Lookin’ at the devil, grinnin’ at his gun
Jon caught reflections of himself in glass and polished steel. He had the hard build of a surfer with spikey blond hair and a stud in his ear. The stud was an equilateral triangle, also known as a delta triangle, the delta for his time in the Unit. Jon spun, twisted, and belted along with Sly. Damned if he didn’t look like a rock star in the mirror behind his bar. Kinda like Sting. Only better.
