Murder in Real Time Page 20

  Sebastian waited. In every other situation, I lost at these kinds of challenges. I liked motion and words and things that made life progress. Waiting and silence were foreign concepts, alien notions and virtues unknown to me. Except now. When Sebastian voiced my greatest fear, every fiber of my body stopped to hold a collective breath. Saying it out loud was like setting the idea free into the world where it could come for us.

  He fiddled with my fingers. “I don’t know if you’re right or wrong. I need to go to Vegas and follow up on some leads, but I can’t leave you right now. You keep getting shot at. Fargas needs the extra help here and there’s currently another man in your bed.”

  Selfishly, I was glad he wasn’t going after Jimmy in Vegas. I could keep an eye on him here. Jimmy the Judge couldn’t take Sebastian from me. I didn’t want to know a world where Sebastian didn’t exist.

  “Don’t go.” The whisper escaped my heart before I could think better of it. On impulse, I kissed him, hoping to cover my raw plea. I pressed my lips to his with a lifetime of desperation and recklessness.

  A growl rolled deep in his chest as I climbed into his lap, positioning myself to face him. His arms wrapped protectively around me and he deepened the kiss, sending electricity through my body, down the length of my back and into my socks. My toes curled. Heat in my cheeks spiraled to my tummy and a little lower, setting my hips into a slow tilt. Sebastian’s intoxicating mix of cologne, spice and testosterone turned my bones to jelly. Under the heat of his tongue, the usual flicker of desire I had in his presence flamed to combustion temperatures. I moaned against his lips.

  Sebastian broke the kiss, eyes wide and fiery. “Adrian’s in the next room.”

  Dang it. Adrian’s name was ice on everything I had going. I slid off Sebastian’s lap, crossed my legs against the disappointment and sucked in short rapid breaths. Stupid homeless politician.

  “Claire’s back.” Sebastian adjusted his posture and his jeans before the door opened.

  Claire stopped short of hanging her coat on the rack beside the door. “Oh. Did I interrupt?”

  “Nope.” Sebastian finished his beer. “That was all Adrian.”

  Claire looked adorable in her vintage pinafore dress and kitten heels, but her lipstick was lighter than usual and her hair was pulled back in a casual comb-and-go style, not in keeping with the rest of her look.

  I smiled. “Where were you?”

  She looked at Sebastian.

  I looked at Sebastian. “Do you know something?”

  “Yeah. I need my own place. One that’s not a crime scene.”

  My brain split. What the heck did that mean? My place was fine. If you didn’t mind a small crowd. Claire tiptoed toward the bathroom.

  “Hold it.” I cleared my throat. “You were going to tell me all about your night.”

  “I was?”

  I patted the cushion beside me.

  Sebastian levered his giant body off the couch. “I’ll let you two talk. I need a shower.”

  Oh. I hated to make matters worse. “Give it a few minutes to heat up. The hot water heater’s on the fritz again.”

  Sebastian kept moving. “Sounds perfect.”

  Claire took Sebastian’s spot. “Were you two...” She trailed off suggestively.

  “No. Adrian’s in the bedroom.”

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  Maybe my apartment wasn’t ideal for every situation, but it was all I had that hadn’t been blown up or shot at lately, so I wasn’t complaining.

  “So, dish,” I said. “Where did you go all dressed up and what happened to your lipstick and hair?”

  Claire touched her lips with one hand and smoothed her ponytail with the other. He chin jutted forward. “I was with Max.”

  My brain blanked. Did I know Max? The name carouselled in my mind. Max. Max. Max. “Fargas?” Maxwell Fargas was his full name, but no one called him Max, did they? Until recently, I’d called him Deputy Doofus. “Max?” The word felt awkward on my tongue.

  “Yes. Fargas. We had dinner and talked about school. Did you know Max has a degree in criminal justice, and he’s getting his law degree online? He takes classes on the mainland when he can, usually in the winter when tourist season dies here for a few months. The rest of the year he takes the courses from home.”

  I blinked. You think you know someone.

  “Is this official? You’re dating Fargas?” I knew she downplayed her attachment to him. I wanted to know how much.

  She fluffed her skirt. “That isn’t the point here. The point is that Fargas is going to be a lawyer soon. He’s studying for the bar. There’s a lot to Max you don’t see. You don’t see because you don’t look.”

  “Wow. That was very Confucius of you. How is the fact you’re dating Fargas not the point? There is no other point. How did I not know this? Why don’t I have more details? Have you kissed him?”

  Her cheeks reddened. Normally her light mocha skin hid blushes while mine gave me away. Not this time. Claire took sudden interest in her manicure.

  I gawked. “Are you kidding me? Tell me more. How long has this been going on?”

  She shrugged her narrow shoulders, looking as guilty as a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar. “I told you when we met I thought he looked like Clark Kent.”

  “Yeah, the journalist, not Superman.”

  She turned her large brown eyes on me. “I prefer brains over brawn.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What about the SWAT guy? He was huge.”

  She nodded, somehow managing an exasperated expression. “And smart as a box of hair. Nice. Polite. Cute. Yes. If I wanted to talk football, hamburgers or horsepower for the next fifty years, he’d be the one for me.”

  I slouched against the couch. “Fifty years? What is happening?” I looked around us, at the floor and ceiling. She didn’t date seriously, let alone talk about having a future with a man. “I think I’m sleeping and this is some weirdo dream. This whole week is made of things I don’t understand. Please help me understand. Am I in a coma?” I gripped her arm. “Am I dead? I blew up with the office, didn’t I?”

  She shook me off. “Stop it. I like Max and he likes me. There. I tried talking about it with you sooner, but you’re always busy or there’s a crowd around you, or both.”

  “This is what you wanted to talk to me about?” Thank heavens. “I thought you had a shopping addiction or nine months to live.”

  She blew raspberries. “Max and I are getting closer and I needed to talk to you. Things are changing in my life and I worry. I’m happy now, but I sometimes want other things, too. You know?”

  I knew. I wanted the crime spree on my island to end. I wanted Jimmy the Judge captured. I wanted a peanut-butter-and-chocolate Sophisticake to help me handle this conversation. “I know.”

  “Did you hear about Karen and Beau? They’re having a baby.” She looked impressed. “A few years ago, everyone I knew was having babies and I didn’t care. I wasn’t ready. I had other goals on my mind. Then I heard about Karen this week and I wondered...am I missing out on something bigger than what I already have? Do I really need a second bedroom for a closet or could I use it for a nursery?”

  “A nursery!” I jumped to my feet and the world spun. Adrenaline and I didn’t mix. “Hold on.” I went to get a glass from the kitchen and poured wine halfway to the top. I sipped it and waited. Nothing. Drinking wasn’t a good idea in general. Alcohol consumption lowered inhibitions and I liked my inhibitions. Fortunately, it also loosened tongues and I couldn’t have this conversation without a little help. I sipped again. Nothing.

  “Are you coming back?” Claire asked.

  I took a big gulp that heated my tongue. “Yep. On my way. Sorry.”

  She eyeballed my glass.

  I eased into my seat beside
her. “I’m glad you’re happy. I wish you would’ve told me right away, but it’s fine. I understand and I’m happy for you” I took another long drink and held up a pointer finger, signaling I wasn’t finished. “I feel the same way about Karen’s marriage and pregnancy.”

  Claire’s somber face smoothed into a grin. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t like change, though. If I’m dating someone, I might not be around as much.”

  I laughed, the effects of wine touching my fingertips and belly. “You’ll probably be here more if you’re with Fargas.”

  Her head moved slowly left and right. “Fargas is leaving once he passes the bar. He’s looking at jobs on the mainland, and he has an interview in D.C.”

  “You’re not moving to D.C.” I’d be heartbroken.

  “No. I’m not saying that. I’m just saying there’s change afoot. You’ll need a new sheriff, no matter which job Max takes, and if he takes a position closer to me on the mainland, I’ll be dividing my time after work between here and there.” She wrinkled her little nose. “Don’t you ever wonder where I disappear to when I’m staying with you?”

  I hadn’t. Claire was athletic and independent. I assumed she had things to do, like jog or shop.

  “Hey.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you tell Sebastian about Fargas before you told me? I saw that look you two exchanged.”

  The blush on her cheeks returned. “Of course not.”

  I sipped the wine and pointed at her face. “You and Sebastian shared a look. I saw it. It was right after you told me you were with Fargas tonight. Sebastian knows something I don’t. Doesn’t he?”

  She pursed her lips and shut her eyes.

  “You can tell me.” I patted her leg. “Come on. I won’t tell.”

  She blew out a long breath. “This is awful. I tell you everything, but I wouldn’t tell you this for like five years if I could avoid it.” She smoothed her skirt and shifted in her seat to face me. “Okay. No judgment.”

  I nodded in agreement. For good measure I locked my lips with an invisible key.

  She rolled her eyes. “Did you know The Watchers have cameras set up on the seashore?”

  I blanched. “What?”

  “Sebastian confiscated all the footage from The Watchers’ hidden cameras after Max arrested Mr. Copeland today. Some reports were filed about the cameras and Sebastian knew they bothered you, so he pushed. Max and Sebastian were going through the footage at the station when I went to pick Max up for dinner.”

  I covered my face and peeked between fingers. “They saw the tapes?”

  “Yes. They promised me they fast forwarded through the, um, personal parts, but yeah. They saw.”

  I flopped backward on the cushion beside her. “I’m going to die.”

  “Why?” She peeled my hands away from my face. “Did you know about the tapes and not tell me?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know. It was my first sex tape. I was cooking up a plan to get back there and destroy them. Plus, the girl said you couldn’t see any faces.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to see our faces if you knew about my Disney tattoo.”

  We stared wide-eyed at one another, pointing fingers.

  “Your tattoo?” I said as she asked, “Your sex tape?”

  It wasn’t me caught on film. It was Claire. With Fargas. I squealed and clamped both palms over my mouth.

  “Stop it.” She knocked her knee against mine. I shot upright and bounced silently beside her in my seat. I buried my face in the gold pillow. Tears of joy and relief ran over my cheeks.

  “Stop celebrating. I’m humiliated.”

  I tried to straighten my expression and pulled the corner of the pillow away from my face. “Sorry.” A giggle-snort erupted through my composure. I tried again. “Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  “I’m not talking about this anymore.” She turned her face away. “What about you? You said you might envy Karen a little too? That’s a pretty serious diversion from the girl I met five years ago.”

  My humor fell away. “I know. Life’s moving so fast. I don’t want to miss anything. For the first time, I think I might like to be a mom one day. Buy a house. Find a Mr. Patience Price to mow the lawn and change tires, take out the garbage or whatever husbands do.”

  “Your husband?” Claire leaned her head on my shoulder. “He’d better be rich or have some legal pull. He’ll probably spend a lot of time bailing you out.”

  I laughed. “Maybe I’ll settle down one day and focus my curiosity on things like finding the perfect cannoli recipe or organic herb gardening.”

  “Maybe.” Claire tucked her legs under her. “You have any more wine in there?”

  I hoisted my body upright and carried my empty glass with me to the kitchen in search of a bottle and another fancy glass. My heart thudded as Sebastian’s reflection came into view. Across the narrow hallway of my too tiny, too crowded apartment, the bathroom door stood open as Sebastian rubbed a towel over his shower-dampened hair. Embarrassment tightened my chest. How much of our conversation did he hear? How loud had I been speaking? Did he know I wanted things bigger than I’d ever admitted to anyone before this night? I fumbled the wine bottle onto the counter and took a slow calming breath before lifting my eyes to his again.

  The reflection of Sebastian in my bathroom mirror winked. One corner of his mouth pulled slightly in the almost-smile I loved.

  And my heart blew into confetti.

  Chapter Twenty

  I woke with a groan. After an hour of debate and several wine-hazed rounds of rock, paper, scissors, I’d won the couch for my bed. Seven hours later I doubted “won” was the right word. Claire’s floor bed of pillows and quilts was neatly folded and stacked in the corner. Her heels stood against the wall and her cross trainers were missing. Exercise people exhausted me. Claire, like Adrian and so many others, jogged every morning. Adrian had missed a couple of days due to a gunshot wound, and he complained endlessly. Lucky for me, he had food truck people to occupy his free time before sunrise. Waking me wasn’t a smart option, and he knew it.

  “Morning.” Adrian approached on slow feet, carrying two mugs of coffee and sporting a clean shave. He set one cup on the coffee table and backed away. Wise. I wasn’t a morning person.

  “Ha-ha.” I rubbed my forehead. “Mornings are not my friends. Morning people are unnatural.” I lifted a tired eyebrow. “How long have you been up?”

  His dimple caved in. “Couple hours. It’s a beautiful day.” He whipped the curtains open, and I swatted the air, hoping to give the sun a black eye. If I hit Adrian instead, so be it.

  “Where is everyone?” I swung stiff legs over the cushion’s edge and forced my body into a seated position.

  Adrian sipped his coffee and smiled over the rim. “Claire went out for a run over an hour ago and Sebastian left after you fell asleep. He woke me around midnight and let me know I was in charge of you for the night.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I guess he opted to go back to work, given the one bedroom and four adults sleeping here. I offered him the cot in my office when I saw Claire on the floor, but he wasn’t interested. He stopped to check on you this morning then left again.”

  “When?” I perked up, sucking down hot coffee. My fitful sleep wasn’t solely due to the crappy couch. Nightmares of Jimmy the Judge hunting Sebastian had kept me tossing and turning all night.

  “I don’t know. Not long. Maybe five or ten minutes ago.”

  When Todd said the mean old reporter followed me around the island yesterday, Sebastian had practically turned purple. If Sebastian was in search of the reporter, then Sebastian was probably somewhere on the island and I could catch up to him. Most likely, Meanie read the Hollywood Watcher website and had the same reporting strategy as Todd, i.e. “follow Patience
because she’s where the action is.” This theory meant Meanie was harmless. I liked that option. Of course, the idea Meanie might be a gun for hire kept me awake half the night. I decided around two in the morning if I caught Meanie pointing a gun at Sebastian, he’d get a load of me. Okay, the expression “get a load of me” was all I’d come up with while I tossed on my couch. I didn’t have a plan, but I definitely couldn’t do nothing.

  I launched from the couch, yanking off clothes as I dashed down the hall to my room. I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans from the stack on my dresser and a Chincoteague High School sweatshirt off the floor. Adrian waited outside the door and followed me to the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” He stared at my reflection as I brushed my teeth at warp speed.

  I raked a brush through my hair and twisted the poofy, sun-streaked mass into submission. Voilà! Ponytails: masking my lazy hair days as an intended casual look for twenty-five years.

  “I’m going to find Sebastian.” One quick swipe of lip gloss and mascara. Boom. Ready to go. If I didn’t think about my outfit, face or hair too long, I looked great. No need to waste time. Denial was my favorite mental crutch. My pants often “shrank” in the dryer, and I went over budget on shoes because the prices kept going up. These things were out of my control. Denial worked. See?

  Adrian trailed me to the kitchen. “Why are you following Sebastian?”

  “Never mind.” I poured a to-go cup of coffee and struck a confident pose. “I retract that statement. I’m meeting a client, so I can’t talk about it. Counselor-patient confidentiality.” I shrugged and pulled my lips to the side, giving him my best those-are-the-rules face. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  “Shouldn’t you dress more, I don’t know, professional, if you’re meeting a client?” He leaned forward with his I-see-right-through-your-bull face.

  I wouldn’t give in to the pressure. “No. I’m not supposed to look like I’m counseling. It’s very low-key.” Adrian needed to drop his inquisition. He didn’t need any more trouble.