Point of Betrayal (2 page)

She tousled her remaining locks and stared up at the ceiling and the beautiful crossbeams that matched the dark pine doors leading to her balcony. She loved the Spanish revival bungalow, and it was impossible to believe it had been nearly destroyed only a few months before, much like her personal life. Staring at the freshly painted walls and the new bedroom set she’d chosen, she realized she and the house had been reconstructed together, albeit very quickly.

She’d hired Teri, her best friend’s handy dyke, to do the remodel, and she’d worked exclusively on her project, called in favors with subcontractors and suppliers. She’d completed in nine months what would’ve taken most contractors over a year.

“I know how much this means to you, Ari,” she’d said. “I know how much you need this.”

That was the truth. The house had become her life and the garden her sanctuary.

She stepped onto the small balcony that overlooked her expansive backyard and studied the various planters and walkways her landscaper had installed. She was sticking primarily to indigenous desert landscaping, but she’d wanted some color and insisted that brick planters be built for her burgeoning gardening hobby. If she wasn’t at work she was out in the back either making compost or planting flowers and shrubs.

Now that fall had come, it was time to move forward with her vegetable garden. She studied the rectangle at the western side of the yard where a garage used to sit. The foundation had been jackhammered out and only the scarred earth remained. She smiled, grateful for the project. She liked being busy and the yard was a powerful distraction since her career as a real estate agent had flat-lined in the tough economy. Clients were hard to find and commissions were fleeting, so she’d found a hobby, convinced it was more therapeutic than the shrink her best friend Jane had dragged her to see. She didn’t need to talk. She needed to work.

She threw on a pair of shorts before descending the winding staircase to her quaint kitchen. While she’d been determined to preserve the original light blue tile counters and white cupboards, she’d installed a Sub-Zero refrigerator and a stove that looked retro but was self-cleaning and boasted a delayed baking feature.

She flipped the cold water spigot on and was greeted by moaning in her pipes. When it stopped after a few seconds of water flow, she made a mental note to call Teri, brewed some tea and retrieved the paper, already planning a trip to Harper’s Nursery.

The phone rang and she glanced at the display.
Dad.
She debated whether or not to pick up. If she didn’t, he’d trek across town from his leased condo to see if she was okay, which would lead to a lunch invitation and several hours of father-daughter bonding time. That wouldn’t be awful, but it wasn’t what she wanted today. She just wanted to plant.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetie. I hope you were up.”

“Yup, I’m just getting started with the paper and then I’m off to the nursery.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he said and she could hear a trace of sadness. He didn’t like that she spent so much time outside.

“Dad, this yard certainly needed help after having a bomb go off in it.”

Both of them knew she wasn’t exaggerating. A bomb had literally exploded in the original garage before she’d purchased the bungalow. Her shrink had suggested that her commitment to landscaping sprang from a desire to change the entire look of the place as she first came to know it, back when it belonged to the previous owner.

“Well, I have some tickets to the Suns’ game today and I thought you might like to go.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said absently, already thinking about the rosebushes for the side of the house and how many tomato plants she’d purchase. “Maybe next time. I’m really busy.”

“That’s what you said last time and the time before that,” he said. “Honey, I came out of retirement and moved down here to be closer to you, but I barely see you.”

No one asked you to do that
, she thought. She still considered their relationship strained, even though it was the best it had ever been. She’d never forgotten he’d disowned her during her twenties when he learned she was gay. Although fourteen years had passed, the memory of that long night remained, and neither of them could discuss her banishment or what followed—a suicide attempt.

“We just went to lunch together on Thursday,” she said. “I think that counts as seeing me.”

“Yeah, but I need your advice now. A lot’s happened since Thursday.”

She set down her tea cup. She knew what was coming. “They offered you the promotion?”

He paused before he said, “Not yet, but I think it’s highly likely. I’d like to discuss it with you.”

She sighed. “What do you want to do? Do you want to give up
retirement
indefinitely and go back to the force? I mean, you’ve been gone from Phoenix PD for over five years.”

She’d put the emphasis on retirement, the part of the proposition she thought was most important to him. What she didn’t mention was the reason he’d been rehired in the first place. He had accidentally stumbled into one of the biggest cases in Phoenix police history during his vacation, one that resulted in the resignation of her former girlfriend, Detective Molly Nelson, and the death of her godfather, Police Chief Sol Gardener. When the dust settled, the mayor had asked him to abandon retirement and head a task force investigating police corruption. Now the bosses were trying to make his return permanent by promoting him to lieutenant.

“Maybe,” he said simply. “C’mon, hang out with your old man for a while.”

She rubbed her temple and stared at the yard longingly. All she wanted was peace and quiet, but if she didn’t say yes to him, she realized her friend Jane would be calling shortly and making her own offer. And she knew Biz would eventually call. She always called.

Everyone was worried about her since the breakup with Molly. Ironically Ari was far more worried about Molly, who’d lost the only job she’d ever wanted. She’d vanished. Ari imagined only her family knew where she was and no one would tell Ari.

“Okay, Dad,” she relented. “I’ll go.”

“Great, sweetie. I’ll pick you up at two thirty.”

She could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. She knew he equated each visit as a step closer to filling the gap in their relationship, but while he saw that gap as a gopher hole in the backyard, she envisioned the Grand Canyon. Still, she appreciated him trying and she knew it was important.

She glanced into the solarium, toward the two photos sitting on the built-in bookcases—one of her mother and the other of her with her brother. Both were dead. That meant Big Jack Adams was the only family she had left.

The lump that filled her throat whenever she thought of family returned and she wiped away tears. It was harder now since she’d lost Molly and her wonderful family, who’d enfolded Ari into the clan immediately. That was the worst part about breakups. You lost everything, not just your lover.

After she’d read the paper and finished her tea, she headed for the nursery. Glancing at the holes and stains that covered her shorts and T-shirt, she couldn’t believe any man or woman would find her attractive, yet Kip Harper, the owner’s son, was at her side less than two minutes after she arrived, suggesting several types of rosebushes and showing her the array of vegetables she could plant in late fall.

“This is my favorite,” he said, stopping in front of a beautiful bush covered in fuchsia-pink petals that turned apricot at the center. “It’s quite colorful and hardy enough for the heat.”

She nodded her agreement and bent down to smell the blooming flower, cognizant that his gaze was most likely on her derriere. When she stood up, he was grinning.

He was buff with a short crew cut that made his ears stand out. She guessed he was at least ten years her junior, and when he smiled his gleaming teeth only made him look younger. She enjoyed walking through the nursery and talking with him since he was quite knowledgeable about horticulture even if he was entirely clueless about her lesbianism. He flirted with her as he loaded her cart, dismissing the questions of other customers with only a quick answer or pointing down an aisle toward another employee. He was helping her and wouldn’t be pulled away to heft mulch into a car or explain the water needs of desert plants.

She knew he gave her extra attention in the hopes that she’d pick up on his interest, and she felt slightly guilty about withholding the truth but not enough to do anything about it unless he formally asked her out. Then she’d tell him and things could become horribly awkward, so she kept him talking about gardening.

When he loaded her car and waved goodbye, she thought he looked glum, as if he’d missed an opportunity.

She sighed, thankful she’d avoided a conversation about dating, which was the last thing she wanted to think about. Even her shrink knew to leave it alone for now, allowing her the space to sort out her own feelings and discover why she’d allowed Biz into her life at the expense of her relationship.

After nine months she had no answers. She had just let it happen. Maybe she knew it wouldn’t work with Molly, who was an insecure, jealous, raging alcoholic. She was also the most amazing woman she’d ever met.

As she turned onto her lovely street, she saw Jane’s Porsche sitting in front of her house.
My intervention group needs to communicate better
, she thought. There was no reason for Jane to babysit since her father was already on her agenda.

She pulled into the driveway and Jane traipsed across the lawn. She wore pedal pushers and a smart purple blouse that exposed much of her cleavage. She always looked sexy even when she wasn’t trying. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a gold clip. Ari couldn’t tell if she was dressed for work or play. It was often that way with her. Whenever she left the house she looked chic, regardless of whether she was grocery shopping, clubbing or previewing houses. Ari knew she was the opposite; no one would ever confuse her errand attire of jeans and T-shirts with the power suits she wore for clients.

“Hi, honey,” Jane called.

She offered her a peck on the cheek and carefully avoided the twenty-pound bag of manure Ari lifted into the wheelbarrow.

“You know, there are people you can hire to do that for you,” she said, her nose crinkled in distaste.

“But I like doing it myself,” she replied. “I feel like I’m one with the earth.”

“Truly the sign of a sick mind. I’m one with the earth as well, just not the dirty part.”

She laughed. “Then I guess you won’t stay and help.”

Jane shook her head. “I’m meeting a date for brunch. I just stopped by to show you this.”

She handed her a printout of a news article from the
Laguna Beach Independent
with the headline: “Local Woman’s Death Ruled Homicide.” Surrounded by the story’s text was a headshot of a woman Ari vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. She glanced at the caption beneath the photo—Nina Hunter. Nina was Jane’s first love and one of the few women who’d ever turned her down.

“Oh, Jane. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay, I think. We really weren’t that close anymore, just Facebook buddies, but I can’t believe she’s gone. Who would kill such a nice person?”

She skimmed the article, which provided few facts about the murder. She quickly learned that Nina was a social worker at an elementary school in Laguna Beach. Teachers, parents and the administration sung her praises for her dedication to children and families. Initially the police thought she’d accidentally fallen over a railing at a scenic spot, but for a reason that was not disclosed, they had changed their minds.

“How could someone so admired be murdered?” Jane asked.

She shook her head. “There’s obviously more to her life than what you know from Facebook. It says the prime suspect is Sam Garritson, the former boyfriend whose father is a city councilman.”

“They’d broken up recently, but Sam swore to me that he didn’t have anything to do with it. He’s terribly distraught. He still loved her.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know all this?”

Jane took a deep breath as if she was preparing for a speech. “Don’t say no.”

“Jane,” she said sternly. “What’s going on? You spoke with Sam?”

“He called me. He friended me a few months ago when we both commented on one of Nina’s posts and then he poked me.”

She nodded, well aware of the Facebook lingo. As a real estate agent, she’d learned to navigate Twitter and Facebook in order to survive with the under-thirty crowd, but Jane was the queen of social networking. She boasted two thousand Facebook friends and nearly as many followers on Twitter.
And I’d have that many too if I was willing to discuss my sexual activities in a hundred and forty characters,
she thought
.

“So what am I not supposed to say no about?” she asked as Jane followed her into the backyard.

When Jane didn’t answer right away, she dropped the wheelbarrow and faced her. “What did you do?”

Gazing down at the manure in the wheelbarrow, Jane pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped the smudges from the face of the bag. “It’s just so dirty.”

“Honey, focus. Why are you here?”

She set the tissue in the wheelbarrow and fished two airline tickets from her purse. “I think we should take a little vacation.”

“A vacation? Now? I just moved in.”

“Yeah, but you need a little time away. You never really took a break after everything that happened, and the last time you took a vacation was at least five years ago.”

“That’s not true,” she argued. “Molly and I went away on long weekends a few times.”

“That doesn’t count. It’s not a vacation if you don’t cross state lines. That’s a
fake
vacation that people call a
staycation
. That’s B.S. I’m proposing that we get out of town, but in deference to your fragile state, I promise we won’t go too far.”

“Like Laguna Beach,” she said dryly.

“Okay, that’s a great idea! Let’s do that.”

She narrowed her eyes and resumed her wheelbarrowing. “I need to stay here and work. I’ve just started planting.”