Heaven's Fire (33 page)

"Maybe, but it seems to me that people walk differently when they're padding in barefoot to swim at a pool, than when they're walking down the street. Not that I ever watch him come in, anyway," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass. "I honestly try not to look at this guy, because I can feel that he's looking at
me
. I don't want to make eye contact." She shook her head. "Sort of wimpy on my part, huh?"

"It's probably more instinctive than wimpy," Simon said. "You don't look an aggressive dog in the eye, because he takes it as a challenge. In a way, you're doing the same thing."

"I guess. Though it still makes him the alpha dog, and me subordinate." She picked up her wine glass.

The woman knew her pack mentality.

"Well," said Simon, "he's likely harmless, but have you talked to anyone about him?"

"A couple of other swimmers have noticed him watching me, but I haven't reported him to management, if that's what you mean."

"Maybe you should. They can keep an eye on him, or talk to him."

Jake shifted uncomfortably. "But, maybe I'm making too big a deal of it. And even if I'm not, this is still a free country. People can look at other people if they want."

And God bless America for that, Simon thought. "Okay, but if he keeps bothering you, let me know and I'll go beat him up, okay?"

"Yeah," Jake said, perking up. "That'll be good." She hesitated, then seemed about to say something and stopped again.

"Something else that's bothering you? Someone else I can beat up?" he prompted.

But she just smiled. "Nope. Your turn. What's going on in your world?"

Simon considered telling her about Pasquale’s possible Alzheimer’s and his brother Francesco’s probable case. But that discussion might take a turn toward the explosion that killed Francesco’s and Simon’s investigation and--much as Simon trusted Jake--he didn’t feel like reopening the same can of worms Martha Malone had been sniffing around earlier. Especially after the scene he’d made with Jake about it.

So, instead, he told her about Ray's fingerprints on the cigarette lighter and the fiasco at Firenze's. Jake listened avidly. "Whoa, you win the ‘bad day’ competition. So we know Ray is alive?
"

"
Explains the Coast Guard not finding the body, doesn't it?"

Jake didn't answer, and Simon thought maybe he'd been too flippant. "I saw your friend Williams at the funeral," he tried. Yeah, that was
much
better.

She wrinkled her nose, apparently not sure what to make either of the abrupt change in subjects, or of Simon calling Williams her "friend." "Yeah, me, too. He wanted to know what I had told you."

"I didn't tell him that we'd talked. He must have just assumed. What did you say?"

Jake laughed. "I patted him patronizingly on the cheek and said I hadn't betrayed his confidence. Which I hadn't. I betrayed Pasquale's, if anyone's, and he's past caring."

The cheek-patting explained, Simon felt better. But Jake was looking a little worried. "You do have him spooked, though," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because he implied that if you found anything hinky back when I was working for him, he'd involve me."

"Was that what he implied, or what you inferred?"

Jake tilted her head and studied him. "You have way too good a vocabulary, you know that?"

"For what? A cop?"

Jake turned red and opened her mouth to reply.

Simon waved it off. "No, don't answer that. As for Williams' implication or your inference, you don't have anything to worry about. Assuming you weren't involved."

Jake grimaced. "I wasn't, but I can't help thinking that I should have known what was going on. Or that maybe I knew in the back of my head, but didn't do anything because I had a thing for him back then."

"You had a 'thing' for Williams?" Even though he'd been thrown momentarily by the cheek-patting, Simon had trouble picturing what-you-see-is-what-you-get Jake falling for Mr. Suave.

"Surprised, huh?" Jake hung her head. "We actually dated for a couple of years, but not when I worked for him. Believe it or not, even though Bryan loves surrounding himself with all those pretty girls, he doesn't date 'in-house,' as he calls it."

"
Wise
, given he's the boss."

"Appropriate, even,"
Jake
said, with a little smile. "But for Bryan it was more that it would be, in his words, "like
shooting fish in a barrel.
"
The hunt is what excites him. He
only got interested in me when I was on-air at TV8. He likes dating reporters. Anchors are even better."

Simon couldn't remember if Jake had said she'd been an anchor, but he didn‘t want to admit that. "So what happened?"

"He dumped me when I got sick.
"

Simon searched for the just the right thing to say. "Titty man, huh?"

Jake laughed.
"
You’re totally insensitive, you know that?
"
She leaned in and kissed him.
"
And darned if I don’t find that refreshing.
"

Jake needed to be at the lakefront by noon, so she crawled out from under Simon at nine-thirty. As she pulled on her swimsuit, she thought about the night before. She'd started to tell Simon about Dianne Aamot's call, but had caught herself just in time. Nothing like injecting the ex-wife into the conversation to ruin a relaxing evening.

Not that it had stopped them from bringing up psycho-swimmers, ex-lovers, and others stranger. But still, former spouses were a special category and uncharted territory for Jake. She grabbed her gym bag and turned.

Simon was sprawled on his back on the bed, Irish curled up between his legs.
"
Slut,
"
Jake said to the dog affectionately, as she leaned over to give Simon a kiss.

"
Where ya’ going,
"
he said, grabbing her hand.

"
To the Y,
"
she said.
"
I have just enough time to swim before I need to be at the production van at noon.
"

"
The Y is open on the Fourth of July?
"

Dang. Another one of those pesky holidays. She plunked herself down on the side of the bed.
"
You know I did this on Christmas Day, too.
"

"
You wanted to swim on Christmas Day?
"
Simon pulled her down to lie next to him, dislodging Irish.

"
Well, I’d already opened my presents,
"
Jake said. Nothing like admitting you spent Christmas Day alone.

"
I patched drywall and painted on Christmas Day,
"
Simon said.
"
But that was after I went to church.
"

"
You’re right,
"
Jake admitted.
"
I should have gone to church.
Then
I should have gone to swim.
"

"
I sing in church,
"
Simon said, staring up at the ceiling.

Jake patted his arm.
"
That’s nice, dear. We should all sing in church, shouldn‘t we?
"

Simon laughed.
"
No, I mean I sing in the church choir.
"

Jake sat up and looked at him.
"
Really?
"

"
That surprises you?
"

"
Well, no, I guess not.
"
Jake said, settling back down.

"
Liar.
"

"
What voice are you?
"

"
Baritone.
"

"
I’m a soprano.
"

"
I know.
"

"
How do you know?
"

"
I can tell from your speaking voice.
"

"
Oh.
"
It was an unsettling thought. Jake had always suspected she sounded like Minnie Mouse.
"
I used to sing in church, too.
"

"
You don’t anymore?
"

"
No.
"

Simon propped himself up on one elbow.
"
Well, why not?
"

"
I sort of...left. When I was sick.
"

"
Isn’t that when people start going to church? When things are bad?
"
He ran his finger gently down the side of her swimsuit. Going for that notch by her hip bone again, she hoped.

"
I’ve always thought that was wrong. Like being a fair-weather fan.
"

"
More like a foul-weather fan, but I get your point. You’re saying people go running to God when times are tough, but ignore him the rest of the time.
"

"
Exactly. I mean, do they think God’s stupid and doesn’t notice? Well, duh.
"

"
Well, duh?
"
He was laughing at her.
"
But that still doesn’t explain why you stopped going to church.
"

"
My pastor and I had a falling out.
"
She sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest.
"
I had a good friend, Linda, who went through treatment with me. She died.
"

Simon just waited.

"
I needed to talk to someone about it, so I went to see my pastor. He said that God couldn't save everyone, but that I was faithful and had lots of people praying for me. That God was going to take care of me. I think he meant to be reassuring."

"
And it wasn't?
"

"
Heck no. In my mind, he was saying that it was Linda’s own fault that she died. That her faith wasn't strong enough, or her friends didn’t pray hard enough. Like there was something she could have done, in order to stop dying.

"And it's not just church." Jake was on a rant. "The songs say 'faith can move mountains,' the books talk about 'the power of positive thinking.' We're taught that we are in control of our fate, that we can do anything if we just 'believe.'"

"You don't buy that?" Simon traced a line down the inside of her arm and down to her palm.

"Heck no," Jake said, flopping back down on her back and closing her eyes. "The first time you try to fly when you're five, you figure
that
one out."

She heard Simon snort. "Don't tell me you were one of those kids who tied a sheet around her shoulders and jumped off the roof thinking she was Superman."

"Please," Jake said, opening one eye to see his face hovering over hers. "It was a pillowcase, and I launched myself off a swing. Even at five I was a cynic."

Simon smiled.
"
Sometimes,
"
he said, reaching down to cup her cheek,
"
people just die.
"

Jake cracked a smile.
"
See? That’s all I really wanted to hear. Sort of a clergy-version of
"
shit happens.
"

"
You said ‘shit,’ you know.
"

"
I know,
"
she said, kissing the palm of his hand.
"
You’re a bad influence on me. We have to talk about that sometime.
"

"
I know,
"
Simon said,
"
but not now.
"

*****

Simon and Jake stayed in bed awhile longer, then ate breakfast together and went their separate ways. Both of them would end up at Shore Park eventually, but Jake was going directly there and Simon was stopping by the office first.

Even though it was a holiday, ATF’s office was fully staffed. Simon and Collins had agreed they not only needed their own agents on the fireworks grounds, but all the help they could muster from the police and sheriff‘s departments, as well. And even though the display was going to be fired from land this time, it was still considered a marine event. Longenecker and the Coast Guard would be down there patrolling the water, too.