The Sunset Witness (9 page)

Michael had not been on the upper, winding road that
Frank described as a highway one should take only to see the lighthouse or to
kill time.  It seemed perfect.  We pulled off to see the lighthouse.  It was a lovely
day to be outside with a light mist and no wind.  He asked another tourist to
take our picture in front of the lighthouse.  It seemed a presumptuous thing to
do since we hardly knew each other.  He seemed very sure of himself.  It both
attracted and repelled me at the same time.  On the one hand, it meant he was
enjoying himself.  On the other, it meant he assumed I was, too.

Aside from the tourist who snapped our photo, there
were no other visitors at the lighthouse.  We stood behind a fence that kept
people from getting too close to the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean with
a view to the cliff on the opposite side of the cove.  With the mist, a slight
breeze, the dense vegetation, and the sound of the surf crashing below us, it
was a romantic setting.  We were quiet as we stood there absorbing it all and
becoming one with it.  We both seemed to relax.  I sensed he was watching me. 
When I looked at him, he leaned toward me and kissed my lips very lightly.  I
felt my defenses fall away.  He wrapped me up in his arms and kissed me again. 
I could tell our passionate embrace surprised even him.  We had crossed a
threshold, and I knew there was no going back.

We walked to the Lexus without a word between us. 
Michael drove back to Sunset.  He backed into the spot by the beach house and
then opened my door.  He followed me into the house and locked the door,
standing with his back to it.  I'd gone to the window beside the drop leaf
table to lower the shade.  When I turned around, his arms were open.  I wrapped
my legs around him and kissed him several times before he carried me to the
bed.  It was as if a whirlwind had stripped us bare and thrown us together.  I'd
never wanted a man as much as I wanted Michael.  It was early evening when we
both realized we were hungry.  Michael pulled on his jeans and went to the
kitchen to scramble eggs. I started a CD of Rachmaninov's Concerto No. 2, and
then I went into the bathroom to fix my hair.

Michael's eggs were scrambled with a small amount of
cheddar cheese and milk, fluffy, and moist.  I toasted English muffins.  We ate
by candlelight, sipping a white wine I'd splurged on at the grocery.  We didn't
talk.  Occasionally, our eyes met followed by a kiss.  Then Michael tipped my
wine glass so the wine covered my lips.  I started to wipe them with a napkin,
but he stopped me, and gently licked the wine from my lips.  That sent us into
a new frenzy of passion.  He started the shower, undressed me and then hurried
out of his jeans.  The water was nearly running cold by the time we finished
making love.  He wrapped a towel around his waist and then dried me with
another, kneeling at my feet as if I'd conquered him.  Everything he did
aroused me more.  He picked me up and carried me back to bed.

I woke up and lay beside Michael in the dark
listening to Rachmaninov.  I was grateful he'd survived his depression and
writer's block to compose the music that seemed meant for us.  The concerto was
dark, powerful, and mysterious like Michael.  The frenetic pace and passion had
choreographed our lovemaking.  I realized for the first time in my life I didn't
care who Michael was or had been, or where he came from or was going, or if he
loved me.  Men had said they loved me and then left.  I was ready to try
something different and daring.

When I woke up again, Michael was gone.  I turned on
the lamp by the bed, and walked into the kitchen.  The dishes were where we'd
left them.  I ran water into the pan and put it in the sink and then
mechanically cleared the table.  I checked the door to be sure it was locked,
and then I sat at my laptop to bring my journal up to date.  I wanted to write
about my day with Michael and my feelings while they were still fresh.  There
was a note on my laptop.

HAD TO GO.  MICHAEL.

I took some comfort because he'd left a note.  I
could not imagine why he had to go.  I supposed I'd been too easy for him.  For
the first time in my life, I'd hooked up on a first date.  Some things never
change.  Men like a challenge.  I'd not conquered him.  He'd easily conquered
me.  Would he and Joel laugh about it in the morning?  Would Joel's opinion of
me change?  How would I avoid seeing Michael in a town the size of Sunset?

Monday, June 6, 2011

There would have been time to continue plotting my
novel Monday morning, but I was not in the mood to relive my past with Nate
when I was faced with another failure.  I'd reached a place where I was content
without a man in my life.  If I'd not found Michael so attractive, I'd have
found an excuse to avoid him.  I typed a paragraph in my novel outline, deleted
it, and shut down my laptop.  It was no use.  I needed this day to grieve.  I'd
get back to my plan on Tuesday.

Skipping my self-imposed regimen caused me to feel
better almost instantly.  I'd not called in sick or cancelled an appointment. 
I was my own boss and in the mood to reward myself for all I'd accomplished in
the last week.  In the face of disappointment, I knew it was important to treat
myself well and to focus on something positive.

I tied my old sneakers and headed out the door to the
beach.  I plodded through the heavy sand, dodging driftwood, seaweed, and human
garbage and walked along the sand still wet from the tide.  I never walked
barefoot on the beach.  My old shoes kept me safe and were expendable if they
fell apart from the salt.  I thought about the previous Monday when I was en
route to Sunset.

My journey to Sunset began three days before I
arrived.  I left Arizona on the last Saturday in May and drove as far as
Pomona, California.  If I'd not promised Sarah I'd be in Sunset to interview
with Twyla on the first of June, I'd not have been on the road over a long
holiday weekend.   The first two days getting to Pomona and then to Sacramento
were exhausting.  By the time I left Sacramento on Monday, some of the traffic
had let up with people mostly wherever they planned to be for Memorial Day.  I
had a schedule to keep, so I'd not seen the sights along the way.  I didn't
want to get caught in Memorial Day traffic while exploring.  Once I was off I-5
and driving the slower secondary roads to the coast, I'd not make good time.

Monday evening after I exited I-5 on the way to my
motel, I witnessed a tragic accident.  The driver of a semi-truck ahead of me
hit a woman on a bicycle and dragged her about half a block before I was able
to get his attention with my horn.  The driver was devastated.  I called 9-1-1
and tried to find a pulse on the victim.  The EMT could not get a pulse, either. 
The driver of the semi-truck did not smell of an alcoholic beverage, and he was
driving slowly.  The road was dry at the time, and it was still daylight.  It
did not appear he would be charged with a crime, but I was fairly certain the
woman's family would bring a civil suit against him and the trucking company. 
I was not looking forward to driving all the way back down I-5 to testify, but
that would be months away.  For all I knew, I might be living there then.  So
far, Sunset had been more complicated than I expected, and southern Oregon
seemed nice at a glance.

I stood facing the ocean, took a deep breath, and
exhaled.  The ocean made up for so much.  I did a few stretching exercises and
jogged about half a mile.  I'd not kept up my exercise routine while I was
traveling, and I'd not made time for it in the last week.  I was feeling
sluggish.  Thoughts of Michael lurked in the shadows of my mind.  I embraced
the air and remembered the way he'd held me at the lighthouse.  I doubled over,
my arms folded, rocking in silent sobs.  Then I heard someone talking to me.

"Can I help?  Are you all right?" he asked.

I turned around to see Dennis Wagner standing behind
me, looking helpless.  I was mortified.

"I'm fine.  I was remembering something
sad."

Dennis asked if I'd prefer to be alone.  There was
something more vulnerable about him.  I thought he might be just the
distraction I needed.  We walked back the way I'd come and then stopped to rest
on a cluster of rocks with a light dusting of sand on them.  We made small talk
for a few minutes before we were silent.

"Rachel, I need to tell you something.  Your
father and I were on different sides of a case once.  It seems you were put in
my path for a reason," Dennis said.

I wasn't surprised he'd opposed my father.  I sensed
his disapproval when I first met him.  I was surprised he was talking about
it.  So far, he kept our conversation light.  I'd been thinking about the
accident I witnessed, and I was not at all sure I wanted to be burdened with
something else.  Perhaps it was not so serious.  I told him to go ahead.  I'd
been told more than once that people trusted me because I could keep a
confidence.

"My name isn't Wagner.  It's Wojohowitz.  I don't
know if you remember Jacob Gregory.  You might've been too young.  Your father
represented the man who killed him.  Salvatore De Luca.  I testified against De
Luca.  Your father got De Luca off.  I got death threats, changed my name, and
disappeared.

"This spring, my grandson joined a religious
order.  It's a lot like the witness protection I was part of for the last
fifteen years.  He can't have any contact with his family…ever.  I went to see
him before he entered the monastery.  I knew it meant I lost my protection, but
I realized how much I missed my family, and hiding out wasn't living.

"I went to De Luca's son and asked for his
forgiveness for testifying against his dad.  His dad didn't do any time, so I
figured he'd shake my hand and let it go.  De Luca owed Ricky Russo a favor.  Ricky
is a piece of crap, but he has control over everything in Seattle.  He's been
gunning for the guy who put his dad in the slammer when Ricky was about
thirty.  De Luca said he'd let bygones be bygones if I took care of Frank
Christopher.  That's why I came to Sunset."

I knew instantly who Frank Christopher was.  Could Dennis
be asking for my help?  Had he already killed Frank?  I hadn't talked to Frank
since Friday when I called to ask if he needed anything from Hoquarten.  I did
not want to know the kind of secrets Dennis had heaped upon me.  I was angry.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.  I
was getting up off the rock to leave.

"Rachel, please sit down," he said.

In spite of what he told me, he looked old and
pitiful.  I sat on the rock and stared straight ahead.

"Once I met Frank, I couldn't do the hit De Luca
ordered.  We've become friends over the last couple months.  I know it's only a
matter of time before someone else comes for Frank, and then me.  I know you
think a lot of Frank, so I hope you'll help me protect him if it comes to that,"
Dennis said.

I was angry.  "And it's only fair since my
father got De Luca off.  I owe you, right?" I asked.

"No.  That might be the only advantage I have. 
This isn't about payback, Rachel.  I'm asking you as a mutual friend of Frank's,"
he said.

"How could you even consider killing another
human being?  You could've gone back under protection," I said.

"I was naïve.  I thought De Luca would be
satisfied with an apology.  He wasn't.  I was desperate.  I saw the end of the
line for me.  I wanted a few years to enjoy life.  It was a tough spot to be
in.  I didn't want to kill somebody, but my life was killing me.  I didn't do anything
to deserve it.  I tried to do the right thing and testify against De Luca.  It
seemed to make sense at the time," he said.

"You weren't a hero for testifying against De
Luca.  You did it to save your own skin.  I was fifteen at the time, and I took
an interest in the case after my parents had a terrible argument over it.  You
were De Luca's accomplice.  You didn't have to do any time.  You shouldn't have
expected your life to be normal under protection.  It was still better than
prison."

"I made mistakes in my life, but I think fifteen
years in isolation was punishment enough."  Dennis was more defensive.

"Have you told Frank any of this?" I asked.

“No.  I wanted you to know in case something happens
to Frank and me at the same time."

"Frank wouldn't leave even if he knew.  He told
me he came here to die.  But he's a good man.  He deserves to die in his sleep,
peacefully.  I could try to hide Frank."

"You should stay away from Frank now.  That way,
they won't connect you to him."

"I planned to see Frank before I went to work
today.  It's been a few days.  I don't want him to think I've already
forgotten," I said.

"His feelings might get hurt, but it's better
than the alternative," Dennis said.

It seemed entirely unfair that I was burdened with
Dennis' conscience on top of everything else I was feeling at the time.  I
could count on no one, but people kept unloading on me.  I felt sorry for Frank
and didn't want him to die violently and alone.  I left Dennis sitting on the
rock and did another run.  I was climbing the steps from the beach when I heard
the siren.  I'd forgotten the tsunami drill every Monday after the noon hour.  I
was already on edge after talking with Dennis, and the siren didn't help my
mood.

When I arrived at the beach
house, I saw a dozen red roses in a vase on the porch.  The card was from
Michael.  I unlocked the door, placed the roses in the middle of the drop leaf
table, and fixed a salad.  Suddenly, I had an appetite.

As I ate, I wondered why Michael had not written a
note on the card.  The florist was in Hoquarten.  They wouldn't deliver half an
hour away.  Michael must have gone there for the flowers and brought them
himself.  Maybe he thought I'd be there when he arrived.  There was a chance he'd
come again before I left for work.  I put my dishes in the sink and took a
shower.  While I did my hair and makeup, I listened to Rachmaninov again.  My
emotions were on a roller coaster.  I had no idea how long the climb would be
or if I'd linger for a while at the top before I plunged into the pit of
despair again.