Firebird (17 page)

“Come aboard, then.”  He held out his hand to her. 

She hesitated, then placed her hand in his.  His long brown fingers swallowed her own.  Her hand felt fragile as a bird in his as she climbed down the metal steps.  The moment her foot touched the deck, she pulled her hand away.

Then she stood, small and braced, in front of him.  The rain blew across her face.  He could see the pain shimmering in the mirrored eyes.  For a brief moment, her scent touched his cheek.  Not perfume, but smoky autumn leaves and soft rain.

“It’s midnight,” he said.  “Don’t tell me you’ve come to try out your right hook again?”

Hoover nestled against her thigh, his tail thumping loudly.   She reached down to ruffle his wet fur.  “Hey, hero,” she said.  Then, “You left your business card on the counter at Cliff House.”

Score
.  “We don’t get many taxis here in the dead of night.  I figured you weren’t just passing through.  What’s happened, Alexandra?”

She shook her head mutely, as bedraggled as a ragamuffin.  Fear fought bravado in the huge eyes, and he knew she wasn’t ready to talk.

“You look as if you’ve fallen into the sea.  How is it that every time I see you, I mistake you for a hooligan?”

“Then this will come as no surprise.”  She stepped into the lantern light, pulled the wet knit cap off her head and stared at him defiantly.

“Dios mio!  Your hair!”  The shorn hair was plastered to her forehead in sharp red spikes.   “Why would you -”

“One more bad idea,” she muttered.

He stared at her.  This look was totally different from the long, flowing hair he preferred.  And yet - the drenched, fiery tangle was striking.  She stood there before him, burning like a candle in the darkness.   He wondered why his heart suddenly skittered in his chest.  Until the memory of another woman with shining hair flew like a ghost into his head.  No, he told himself.  Don’t go there.

“First time you’re at a loss for words, Garcia.”

 He took a breath.  “I can offer you a whiskey, canned chili, coffee, dry clothes?”

“No, absolutely no, black-no-sugar, and - I’ll keep my clothes on, thanks.”

“Very wise.  Make yourself comfortable, Red.”  He turned away from her and disappeared below decks.

* * * *

Comfortable?  Nothing was comfortable about him!

Listening to him banging crockery in the small galley below decks, she kicked off her water-logged sneakers, then looked around the sleek sailboat and cursed softly under her breath. 

What
am
I
doing here? she asked herself.  Truth was, after her sister’s warning, she still wasn’t sure.  Why hadn’t Eve trusted Garcia?  But Anthony had refused to help her and she had to trust someone…  even if the last thing she wanted was to trust a man ever again.  Trust only led to a whole world of hurt.

Just
leave
, Marik, she told herself.

Too late.  His head appeared through the hatch, and he handed her a steaming mug.  She cupped her hands around the warmth and eyed him over the cup rim.   “You don’t exactly fit into the hot-shot D.C. prosecutor mold, Garcia, living on a boat.”

“Hoover and I needed sky,” he said briefly.

I don’t know if I can trust him, Zan
.  Her sister’s voice, so clear and close that she turned sharply.

“Coming here was a mistake,” she said, her back to him.  “I’ll finish my coffee and leave.  Just ignore me and I’ll – ”

“You’re hard to ignore, Red.”

He moved closer and she stepped away.   “Do I scare you?” he asked softly.

Oh, God, yes
.  “Of course not.”

“You may be a brilliant curator, Alexandra Marik, but you’re a terrible liar.”   He reached out and his hands closed over her shoulders.

She flinched as if he’d struck her, and saw his eyes go dark.  “What the hell are you doing?”  Defensiveness - and a sharp edge of panic - trembled in her words.

“Easy, Red.  Your jacket is wet.”  He kept his eyes on her as his hands eased the soaked coat off her shoulders. 

Alexandra felt the small shock of his touch pass through her body and then the warm blanket settled over her.  His hands were big, strong.  She remembered their touch, from the cliffs. 

She searched his face, the dark stubble on his jaw, the lights in the depths of those serious eyes.  She could still feel the heat of his palms.  Something told her he was used to touching women.  But touching was the last thing she wanted.  Ever.

She moved deliberately out of reach, clutching the blanket around her body as she gazed into the darkness.  The marina was like a Turner painting, ghostly masts against a cobalt-streaked sky and the blurred shine of lights on the empty pier.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said behind her.  “It’s why I live on the
Vaya con Dios
.” 

Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sad, muted clang of a buoy.  She heard herself murmur, “But lonely.”

“But I’m not alone.”  Garcia’s eyes swept the rain-soaked sky.  “Not when Cassiopeia’s waiting, just beyond those clouds.  She was changed into a constellation by her husband.”  He shrugged.  “Nothing like a bit of Greek drama, is there?  The sky is full of stories.  Cassiopeia’s distant and solitary, like me.  But she always guides me to port.  At least when I can see her.”  He smiled as he looked down at the Lab.  “All we need, right, Big Guy?  Los Astros and our lady Vaya con Dios to keep us company on the lonely nights.”

Hoover’s tail thumped hard and fast on the deck.  She looked away, uncomfortable with the unexpected glimpse into his private life. 

His brows lifted.  “I may be a loner, Alexandra.  But I’m not a monk.” 

The easy confidence was unsettling.  “I didn’t track you down at midnight to talk about constellations,” she said stiffly.

“I know.  Then tell me why you’re here, Alexandra.”

“Eve is dead,” she said starkly.  “I need to know why.”

“You go right for the deep water, don’t you?  But what does that have to do with me?”

“I’m here because you knew my sister.”

She sensed him go still behind her.  “We had a - relationship.  Yes.”

Stay calm, she told herself.  “Did you mean it when you told me that you were troubled by Eve’s death?”

“Of course.”

“The coroner ruled that her death was not accidental.”

“I know.  It was in the papers.  Was she drinking?”

She gazed into the darkness, heard the distant echo of slurred, stumbling words.  “I thought so.  I’ve had dozens of drunken phone calls from my sister over the years.  But her daughter insists she was sober.”

“You’re having a hard time accepting Eve’s death,” he said.

“Suicide…  It doesn’t fit, Garcia.  It’s too unthinkable, too wrong.  My niece asked me what makes someone take her own life,” she said suddenly.           

He shook his head.  “Terrible pain, guilt.  Hopelessness, unbearable loss.”

“Yes!  Someone who believes there is nothing left to live for.  But Eve was selfish, she wanted it all.  She thought there was something holy about having no regrets!  And – I can’t believe she would have hurt her daughter that way.”

She saw understanding flash in his eyes.  “You don’t believe your sister committed suicide.”

“Do you?”

“No,” said Garcia.

The quick answer surprised her.  “Why?”

“I’ve spent my life around troubled people.  Eve was one of the fighters.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, and, with a sudden movement, flung the contents overboard.  Her words spilled fast and furious. 

“You fall down the rabbit hole when your only sister dies by violence.  It’s like an earthquake, exploding out of nowhere beneath you.  All of a sudden the world is a different place, everything is pitch black, you can’t recognize anything!   Your sister is gone, the teenaged niece suddenly thrust back into your life is a stranger to you!  You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you drink too damned much black coffee…” 

And you pretend you don’t see the grief in a young girl’s eyes
.   

“You just try not to remember…” she finished softly.

“Yet here you are.  And as far as I can see, every choice you’re making is forcing you to
remember
your sister, Red.”

She stared at him.  “Spare me the irony.”

“Too late, Alexandra.”

 “Garcia,” she said.  “I
want
to trust you.”

“I’m not a man you should trust.”

He’s no stranger to violence
, whispered Eve in her head.

“I don’t have a choice, damn you.  Anthony won’t help me, there’s no one else I can turn to. 
Do
I trust you?  No.”

“Works for me.”  He smiled faintly.

She shot him a look of pure exasperation.  “But I need your help.”

He met her gaze.  “This is going to be a long night…  Why me, Red?”

“Your work.  You have contacts, access to information.”

“Si.  But there are thousands of lawyers and investigators in D.C.  Level with me.”

“You don’t need to know what drives me!”

They stared at each other in the darkness.  For a long moment the only sounds were the hard beating of the rain and the faint sound of rigging banging against tall masts.  

She saw the darkening in his eyes.  “But there’s more, isn’t there?  Tell me what you’re not telling me.”

“I made a promise to my sister.”

“Admirable.  What promise?”

She gazed out at the rain.  “I’ve always believed that you can get through anything if you just shut down.  But I promised my sister that I’d protect her daughter.  And I promised my niece that I’d find out what happened to her mother.  So shutting down is not an option for me.  But -”

His eyes flashed, intrigued.  “But?”

“I don’t know how to help Juliet.  She’s
not my child
!  She doesn’t even like me.”

“And yet here you are.”

She felt the grief rise in her chest.  “My sister died a stranger to me - and I don’t know why!  I keep asking myself the same questions over and over.  Why didn’t I know she was in trouble?  What could I have done, what did I miss? Why, all of a sudden, would she take her life?  Could one terrible moment change everything for her?  A brilliant, beautiful candle, just
blown out
.  Leaving nothing but smoke behind.  Dammit, Garcia, maybe I could have saved her.” 

Her breath caught.  “I just need to understand the
why
,” she whispered.

“You’re too smart to blame yourself for what happened to your sister.”

“I know that, here,” she acknowledged, touching her forehead.  “But my heart tells me I should have been there for her.”

The swinging lantern light caught the sharp, hard planes of his face.   He was like a Rembrandt painting, dark shadows veiling light.  She stiffened.  Too much hidden.  How can I trust him?

“So your sister dies,” he said into the quiet, “and you are left behind.  You want to change the past.”

“Wouldn’t you want that?”

His face was pale in the lantern’s light.  “Grieving isn’t just about tears and sorrow.  Or even anger.  It’s about who you are when you’re alone.  It’s about what you’re doing
now
that matters.”

Who am I without her
…  There’s way more to you than attitude, she thought suddenly.  “That’s why I’m here, Garcia.  A life has been destroyed. 
More
than one life. 
Knowing why matters
!”

“Accidental death has been ruled out.  And now you’re ruling out suicide.  So the remaining causes of death are natural, or –”

“Homicide.”

The muscles corded in his neck.  “You believe your sister was murdered.”

“Yes.  And it was made to
look
like a suicide!  You asked me what I want.  I want to look someone in the eye, find out
why
!  I need to know.  Her daughter needs to know.”

“And what will you do if you find him?”

She looked directly at him.  “I’ll make him pay for her death.”

“Revenge.  And what then?”

“It will be over.”

“It’s never over, Chica.”  His eyes were the color of fog on the sea.  “And there is a huge difference between justice and revenge.”

She turned away.  “Blindingly insightful,” she murmured. “Fine.  Justice, then.”

“You want me to help you
how
, exactly?”

“Help me find out who my sister was!   Eve was as enigmatic as Leonardo’s Madonna.  Who were her friends, her enemies?  How did she spend her last days, who were the people in her life that might know her secrets?   What did she do, what did she know
, to get herself killed
?  Her story holds the answer to her death.”

He gazed into the dark water.  “I’m not a good team player, Alexandra.  My team at Justice would be the first to tell you that.  I prefer to work alone.”

“So do I.”  She looked up at him.  “But my sister brought me to you.”

“
Whoa
.  Flag on the play!  What the devil are you talking about?”

“I told you, at Cliff House, that Eve had come to the island.  It was just before she died.  She knew you were there, Garcia.  Did she call you?”

“Why would she?  Where are you going with this?”

“I’m certain she discovered something dangerous - something she shouldn’t have known.  She hid a message for me at Cliff House, a digital recording.  It contained three names.  One of those names was yours.”

He became very still.  “I haven’t seen Eve in months.”

She believed him.  “She was scared, Garcia.”

“Where is this recording now?”  There was something in his eyes
.

I don’t know if I can trust him, Zan.

“It’s safe.  At the Baranski Gallery.”  The words of her attacker flew into her mind. 
I want what she gave you
.

“Oh, God, of
course
!  The intruder at Cliff House was searching for something...”

“Eve’s recording?  Why?”  She watched the answer swim into his eyes.  When he spoke, his voice held a new edge.  “What other names did your sister give you, Alexandra?”

”Oh, no, Counselor, only if you’re in.  Eve thought you might be able to help her.  Now I’m asking
for
her.”