"Why would he hate you?"
"For dragging him up here only to get shot! And poor Amanda."
"He says he called her."
"He did."
"She gave him permission to spend the night."
"It was late."
"
That
she knew." Gauging Berry's reaction, Ski added, "She didn't know about the cocktail hour and wine."
Berry raised her hands at her sides. "Are you going to make something of us having a couple of drinks?"
"No. I was just wondering--"
"What?"
"What kind of red wine goes with work?"
With exaggerated patience, she said, "The wine didn't come out until dinnertime, and Cabernet goes very well with filets mignons."
"When did you put the robe on?"
She looked at him for several seconds, then shook her head with puzzlement. "Excuse me?"
Ski took a step to bring himself nearer to her. "When I got there, all you had on was a robe."
A robe made of some soft, filmy stuff that had clung to her damp body, then seemed to dissolve within his grip. The imagery was strong, vivid, and way out of line. As was the irrational anger with which he asked, "At what point did you put on that robe? When you took off your wet swimsuit? Is that all you were wearing during your dinner hour with Lofland?"
He was leaning in close to her, unnecessarily close. Why? In order to intimidate a truthful answer out of her? Or for a reason totally unrelated to his investigation?
Amanda Lofland chose that moment to come out of her husband's room, and her displeasure upon seeing Berry there was glaringly obvious.
Ski hastily stepped back, placing appropriate space between Berry and himself.
"Hello, Amanda," Berry said.
Ski thought her apologetic, sympathetic tone sounded heartfelt.
"How is Ben?" she asked.
"Sleeping."
Amanda Lofland's curtness was in keeping with the anger emanating from her. Ski noticed that her hands were fisted at her sides.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," Berry said. "I would rather Oren have shot me than--"
Amanda's bitter laugh cut her off. "Oh, I doubt that."
"It's true." Berry's voice cracked. "I would never have thought Oren capable of doing something like this."
The other woman seemed not to have heard that. Her eyes were narrowed with hatred. "You had to prove it, didn't you?"
"Prove what?"
"That you could snap your fingers and Ben would come running."
"What are you talking about?"
"You can't stand the thought that he is happily married to
me,
so you lured him up here to--"
"Amanda, what--"
"I hated the idea of him spending a day here with you. But I pretended that it didn't bother me. It was for work, after all."
"It
was
for work. Our deadline to deliver that campaign is Monday. We are committed to meeting it."
"Exactly. So what kind of shrew would I have been to say, 'No, you can't go'? What kind of wife would I have been not to trust my husband?"
"You
can
trust him. Ben adores you. He called you several times throughout the day. I heard him."
"Oh, yes. He called periodically to assure me how hard the two of you were working."
"We were."
"In between dips in the pool and bottles of wine."
Berry groaned. "It wasn't like that. Please, Amanda, don't do this."
She extended her hands toward the other woman, but Amanda Lofland recoiled. "Do not touch me. And stay away from my husband!"
She sidestepped them and rushed past, blindly colliding with the couple who'd been standing only a few yards away and had overheard everything.
Ski hadn't noticed them until now. Caroline King was staring at her daughter with dismay. It was harder for Ski to define the expression of the tough-looking man with her, but his deeply shadowed eyes were also fixed on Berry.
CHAPTER 6
IT WAS JUST AS WELL THAT DODGE WASN'T IMMEDIATELY REQUIRED to speak, because he couldn't have if his life had depended on it.
He was world-wise and world-weary. Nothing much bothered him. He was hardened to the cruelty one person could inflict on another. Oh, if he saw pictures of starving babies in Africa, or American fighting men torn to bits in the name of some fanatic's god, he was moved, but more toward rage than toward sorrow. Sorrow had little place in the heart of a card-carrying cynic. The same went for all the softer emotions.
He'd thought he had prepared himself to see his daughter. After all, he didn't know her. It wasn't like he'd once had her in his life, had formed a strong attachment, and then had had her wrenched away. He didn't have photographs of the two of them together. He hadn't made memories with her like he'd made with Caroline.
He and his child had no common bond except for a shared bloodline. He figured that when he met her he might experience a few butterflies, maybe a slight dampening of his palms, but those would be the extent of his reactions, and they would be short-lived.
So he was completely unprepared for the profound physical reaction he underwent when he and Caroline rounded the corner at the end of the hospital corridor and Caroline said, "There she is."
At first sight of the lanky, auburn-haired young woman, it was as though every cell in his body was slapped with an instinctual recognition factor, as though each stood at attention and declared, "I know
her.
"
His heart damn near stopped. He barely controlled the impulse to clutch his chest as he gasped for breath. The sound of rushing air filled his ears. He felt dizzy and uncoordinated to the point that he almost reached out to Caroline for support.
Even more surprising than these physical reactions was the emotional one. A sharp tug deep in his gut, a constriction around his heart, a piercing of his soul, all painful in their intensity.
This beautiful young woman with Caroline's coloring was his flesh and blood, his kid. The miracle of her being overwhelmed him ... for the second time. But the first time, he'd been too young and stupid, too much in love with the mother, to fully appreciate the miracle of the child.
Along with these visceral and emotional reactions, another arose that was even more surprising but equally eruptive. Suddenly, he was Conan the Barbarian, proprietary and protective to a savage extent. God help anybody who laid a hand on his kid. He'd tear their throat out with his teeth.
Yeah, with all these new and explosive impulses running amok through him, it was a good thing that he didn't have to say anything right then. But God, or whoever was in charge and running this show, extended some mercy and let him survive the next several moments without making a fool of himself.
He managed to continue along the hallway at Caroline's side, his gait reasonably normal for a man whose knees seemed to have dissolved. Because he was overjoyed to be seeing Berry, but Caroline had admitted that even she couldn't predict how Berry would react when introduced to him.
He imagined she might be as nervous as he. Or she might spit in his face, or refuse to acknowledge him on any level, or fly into histrionics and rant, or scream and faint. Whatever she did, however she handled it, he'd have to live with it. He didn't expect the best, he deserved the worst, and he was braced for anything.
But the anticipated introduction wasn't imminent after all because Berry was otherwise occupied. Dodge and Caroline were close enough now to overhear the exchange taking place between her and a blond woman, whose pretty features were distorted by anger.
"Oh, yes. He called periodically to assure me how hard the two of you were working."
"We were."
"In between dips in the pool and bottles of wine."
Berry groaned. "It wasn't like that. Please, Amanda, don't do this."
Her placating gesture was rebuffed. After telling Berry not to touch her and to stay away from her husband, the blonde came barreling around a big dude in cowboy boots and ran flat into him and Caroline. She muttered an apology as she stumbled past.
Dodge placed his hand beneath Caroline's elbow. "She nearly knocked you down. You okay?"
She nodded absently and went quickly to their daughter. "Good Lord, Berry. What was that about?"
"Oh, Mother, this situation just keeps getting worse."
Caroline turned her aside, and the two began to speak in undertones. Having been shut out of the confidential conversation between mother and daughter, Dodge and the quasi cowboy sized each other up. Finally the cowboy said, "Ski Nyland."
Dodge shook the large hand extended to him. "The deputy sheriff."
"That's right."
He had cool gray eyes and the no-nonsense demeanor that Caroline had described. Dodge said, "I heard about you."
"Okay." Then after a beat, "Who're you?"
Under the strained circumstances, Dodge took no offense at his directness and answered in kind. "Friend of the family." He glanced over his shoulder in the direction the blonde had taken, but she had disappeared. Coming back around to Nyland, he asked, "Ben Lofland's wife?"
The deputy nodded. "And she's not a happy lady." His cell phone chirped. "Excuse me." He turned his back on Dodge to take the call.
Berry and Caroline were still conferring in whispers, leaving Dodge to his own devices. He decided to go and look for Ben Lofland's unhappy wife, who appeared to be in desperate need of someone to talk to.
And just like that, he realized he was in. Committed. This was his kid, his problem, his fight.
A half hour later, Dodge's cell phone rang. He saw the caller was Caroline. As soon as he answered, she asked, "Where'd you go?"
"Outside to smoke."
"We're on our way out."
"Have you told Berry--"
"No."
He digested that, then said, "I'll be in my car."
They disconnected. Dodge made his way along the landscaped pathways of the hospital campus to the parking lot where he and Caroline had left their cars in side-by-side slots. He finished his cigarette, got into his car, and started the motor so he could turn on the air conditioner.
Atlanta could have its humid days, but,
shit,
this air felt like a wet blanket. It clung to hair, clothes, skin. Its density congested nasal passages and bronchial tubes. The unrelenting humidity was one reason he hadn't been sad to abandon the coastal plains of Texas thirty years ago. The only reason.
He was watching the exit doors as the two women emerged. Berry was a full head taller than Caroline, but her limbs were as slender, and she moved as gracefully. When they reached the cars, Caroline bent down and spoke through his lowered passenger window. "Follow me."
He nodded and looked past her toward Berry. She opened the passenger-side door of Caroline's car, then tipped her sunglasses down and regarded him curiously across the roof of the car. After a long moment, during which Dodge's heart acted like a jackhammer, she replaced her glasses and got in.
It was several minutes before his cardiac system settled down, but he continued to wonder how Caroline had identified him to Berry. What explanation had she given for his sudden presence in their lives?
Well, whatever, it wouldn't be long before he found out.
From the hospital parking lot, the drive to the lake house took seventeen minutes. Three of those minutes were spent at traffic lights on Bowie Street, which was the main drag through the center of Merritt.
Just past the high school football stadium on the outskirts of town, Caroline turned onto Lake Road, which was aptly named because, five miles beyond the turnoff, it ended at a three-way stop with the lake lying directly ahead, separated from the road by a bait shop/convenience store, a fishing pier, and a public boat ramp. The left and right extensions of the T were narrow roads lined on each side by forest, mostly pines.
Caroline turned left. The road followed the curves of the lakeshore. The occasional houses they passed were upscale and exclusive judging from what Dodge could see of them behind extravagant landscaping and estate walls. A few of the houses and several waterfront lots were advertised for sale.
Caroline King Realty,
the signs read. Her name was written in cursive white letters on a deep green background. A little gold crown was perched on top of the capital K.
Her house sat about a hundred yards off the road in a clearing that had been carved out of the surrounding woods. Pines and oaks gave way to cypresses nearer the lakeshore. The calm water reflected the sun like a mirror. A short pier jutted out over the water, but Dodge didn't see a boat.
The house itself was surprisingly modest, not nearly as grandiose as some they'd passed. The clapboard exterior was painted dove gray, accented by white window shutters and columns along the porch. There was a patch of yard in both front and back, the St. Augustine grass surrendering gracefully to the forest floor at the perimeter of the clearing. Well-tended flower beds provided patches of brilliant color, the plants neatly tucked under blankets of pine straw.
He pulled his rental car alongside Caroline's, cut the engine, and got out. Again, his knees felt unreliable.
Caroline said brightly, "Let's go inside to make introductions. Get out of this sun. Berry and I tend to freckle."
He was about to say,
I know.
He'd spent one whole night trying to get around to kissing each one of her freckles. But still clueless as to what Caroline had told Berry about him--certainly not that--he said nothing as he followed the two women up a set of back steps and through a door that opened directly into the kitchen.
As soon as they were inside, Caroline said, "I hope you don't mind coming in through the back, Mr. Hanley. We're informal around here and rarely use the front door." She sounded a bit breathless, like she had when she first shook hands with him at Mabel's Tearoom. "Berry, this is Dodge Hanley."