SEAL The Deal (27 page)

The receptionist brought in a faxed copy of the well report and laid it on Devon’s desk. “This just came for you.”

She flipped to the back page under conclusions and found the language she expected, “evidence of arsenic, slightly higher than acceptable Public Health standards. Recommend water treatment…” and they recommended a system she wasn’t familiar with… “at water tank and annual monitoring for any increase.”

She decided to have them inspect the water tank before it completely recovered, since they’d nearly emptied it from the fire, or so the Department said.

Devon met Williams Well Drilling at the property later that afternoon. The young technician had already collected water samples from outside the tank before she’d arrived.

“I’d like to check the house too, do a water quality test there as well, especially since there was a fire.”

“Sure.” She followed him inside Sophie’s house. She looked at all the mementos, things her friend collected over the few short years she’d tried to carve out her own piece of Heaven. Pictures of her parents and of Nick growing up were in her bedroom. Devon had never noticed them before. Although she tried, she couldn’t help staring down at the photographs of a tall, gangly kid with light brown hair, and a beach boy smile that must have flustered all the twelve-year-olds at Camp Wa Tam. He sat with a group of boys, felt hats on their heads, making them look like merry men of Nottingham for the camp photo. Sophie was at the back, one of the counselors. But Nick was the one her eye went right to. A shadow of the man she thought she knew.

“Miss Brandeburg?”

She heard the technician’s voice coming from outside and realized she was now alone in the house. Chills traveled up her arms as the turned quickly and went outdoors to the sound of the man’s voice.

He was standing on top of a ladder, overlooking the concrete water tank. He had a long rod with a jar of liquid hooked at the end of it. “There’s something here I need you to look at.”

“Yes?” she said as he carefully brought the rod and the glass jar down the ladder.

“Go on up there and tell me what you see,” he said as he pointed to the ladder. Devon was grateful she’d worn her low-heeled pumps today to minimize the soreness in her thighs and calves, instead of the spiked heels she normally wore,. She climbed the ladder and peered down.

Nothing caught her eye. At first she was expecting a body or something sinister because her stomach had clenched up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, here.” She called out to the technician.

“You see those rocks at the bottom of the tank?”

She looked down and could see several large, amber-colored volcanic-looking rocks covered in nearly four feet of water. “I see them,” she said as her voice echoed off the insides of the tank.

“They shouldn’t be there.”

“What are they?”

“Well, if I remember my geology correctly, those are some of the largest chunks of realgar I’ve ever seen.”

“Realgar? I don’t understand.”

“It’s arsenic sulfide. And very deadly.” He stood with his clipboard to his chest, pushing his dark-rimmed glasses back on his nose. “Someone intentionally poisoned this water tank. And what’s significant to me is that they poisoned the drinking water only, but not the well.”

Chapter 29

The service was to take place in two days. The two SEALs worked together to set up arrangements at the church Sophie had occasionally attended as a youth. They turned down an offer for the women’s auxiliary to cater a light lunch, since they didn’t expect many people to show up.

Several of the team members were coming, though, and Nick was thankful for that.

Marc had been on the phone securing musicians for what Sophie had asked to have played at the service. Nick wrote up a biography of his sister, something he had never expected to do, taking it by the church office for the announcement, and for the benefit of the minister performing the service, who had never met Sophie. He’d always thought, because of the nature of his job and her occupation, that she’d be writing the bio for his funeral, not the other way around.

There happened to be a spot near his parents in the old rural cemetery where a couple of his team buddies were also buried. He paid for it, and declined to purchase the plot next to Sophie’s for himself.

He considered that a good sign.

Devon was dreading the funeral. Mark had called her to let her know about it. Part of her was grateful Nick hadn’t made the call. The smoldering ashes of her former self and feelings for him were cooling like the ashes at Sophie’s now-decimated sales office.

The folded paper program, lying atop her crossed thigh, had Sophie’s smiling picture. It had been taken on a sunny day. She could recognize the huge veined hand gripping Sophie’s shoulder, but no other part of Nick’s body was visible. His arms had protected Sophie, made her feel as safe as she could feel that day, her wide confident smile literally glowing in the photo. But those same arms had dished out something else just as powerful to Devon, and it was something she hoped that in time she could forget.

She knew the grieving process did strange things to people. Everyone had their own personal path until they either did or didn’t find peace. She’d been initially so concerned about Nick’s feelings, she’d ignored her own, until now the hurt and pain of it kept her awake at night and drove her back into her work as never before.

The new wrinkle in the investigation, the likelihood that Sophie was murdered, was just one more deadening burden she had to bear. She wondered if Nick knew, but dismissed it as being none of her business.

Focus on your own yard. Quit looking at other people’s lawns.

The organist began a quiet fugue as Devon watched a tear fall on Sophie’s picture, expanding into a small blot on the cream-colored paper. She heard the wooden bench seat groan as several large bodies filled it to capacity. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marc at the end of the row. When she turned her face their eyes met. She tried to smile.

Mark came to sit at her side and put an arm around her shoulder. She hadn’t realized she was so starved for the touch of someone who cared. She leaned into him and quietly let herself slip into quiet sobs. He kissed the top of her head and shook her a bit, then whispered to her ear, “So sorry, Devon.”

She knew he was meaning more than just Sophie, and she was grateful for his display of concern for her feelings. She felt comforted by the group of guys behind where she and Marc sat. Heroes who’d been to funerals many, many times. Who dealt with permanent separations on a daily basis. Men of steel. And men who were flawed as well.

Nick walked behind the minister when the music stopped, entering through a side door onto the dais. He stood with his arms crossed at the wrists, fists tight, his ribcage held high and his chin erect. He nodded to several of the guys behind her, acknowledging their presence, but didn’t look at either her or Marc. It was better that way.

Several times Devon had to look back down at the program picture, now stained with several teardrops, to keep from losing it altogether. Nick’s voice broke, and he had to clear his throat several times as he told Sophie’s story, about some of the funny things they’d done as kids. She wanted to be disinterested, but she couldn’t help listening.

A beautiful song was played about golden threads and a colorful tapestry of life events woven together,

“
Sewer of dreams weave my destiny
,”

The young singer’s voice made her insides tremble.

What was her destiny now? Would she live to regret not falling in love, having a life with children and grandchildren? A comfortable place to share with the man of her dreams? Would she ever feel safe in someone’s arms again, let her heart reach for something again and have the faith and willingness to take the chance she’d be hurt again?

At the end of the service, she allowed Marc to gently help her stand, not allowing her to walk on her own. She turned to address the dozen brave sailors who dressed in suits and ties and looked upon her, shifting from foot to foot, some biting their lower lips, some nodding to her, but none of them afraid to make eye contact. She drew strength from them. She wanted to thank them, and began to.

“Thank you so much—for everything you did for Sophie, for—” but she couldn’t continue as the tears welled up.

She took a deep breath and accepted someone’s handkerchief as she wiped her cheeks and knew that she probably looked horrible. Eyes puffy, red cheeks, makeup wiped off and lipstick gone.

Several of her friends from the office were waiting for her outside the circle. Devon suspected most of them were not there for her benefit. Glances were exchanged and acknowledgements made as a result of the weekend many of the SEALs had spent at the nursery during the liquidation sale.

Nick and the minister had taken up places at the rear door to the church, shaking hands with the few people who had attended. He got hugs from all the guys on the team, words expressed. Slaps on the back.

She could see the red circles around his lower lids and the way his breath hitched, his neck muscles tensing as he swallowed and tried to inhale again.

She and Marc were the last through the receiving line. She looked into Nick’s green eyes and, although she was still afraid of him, knew that she couldn’t hate him. Marc respectfully removed his arm from her shoulder, and that brought another flood of tears to her eyes. Extending her hand, she said the words she would have said to anyone in this situation, “Nick, I’m sorry for your loss.”

He shook her hand and placed another on top of it, angling his head to the side. She could see the self-loathing in his face, but the firm resolve that he’d owned up to it, admitted it. “I’m sorry too, Devon.”

She knew he was. He was having to work twice as hard to keep it together with her as he had with his buddies. His callused hand slipped away quickly and he diverted his gaze to address Marc. They hugged.

Drained and feeling unsteady, she continued to traverse the foyer alone, preparing to drive home and go to bed. Marc asked if he could take her for a sandwich or a bite to eat of some kind. She meekly agreed and they passed by several of the men clustered around groups of the younger girls from the office. The men were all handsome in their suits, with their straight backs and proud chests. They were all sizes and colors, but they were all there, even Kyle and his beautiful wife, Christy. She felt the burden of remembering happier times from her San Diego visit. Back when she could see herself living there, becoming part of their community.

She stopped and greeted Kyle’s wife, who gave her a firm and comforting, wordless hug.

“Thanks for coming up, Christy. I wished it could have
been under better circumstances.”

“Not to worry, Devon. There’s lots of time for that. Kyle and I will come up some time and you can show us around your beautiful county.”

Devon appreciated her words. And now she didn’t have to get jealous over Nick’s attention.

Kyle stepped forward and placed a palm on Devon’s shoulder, giving her a squeeze and shaking her gently. “You need anything, Devon, you just let us know, okay? We’re here for you.”

Devon nodded, but looked at the floor.

When will I have cried enough?

She lifted her gaze to the handsome team leader with the bright blue eyes.

“Thank you. I appreciate everything you and the boys have done. Sophie really—” Again she broke and this time she couldn’t hold it in. She fell into Kyle’s chest and grabbed him around the waist, clutching the fabric of his suit, and let the tears flow. Both he and Christy rubbed her back. Several of the other men came over and put a hand on one shoulder or another.

Words were whispered she couldn’t understand, all intended for her ears, but her sobs completely drowned out their voices. Kyle let her cry. When she stopped shaking, she lifted herself off his chest and pulled her hair from her forehead and cheeks.

“Sorry.” She dug a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes again.

“No. You take all the time you need,” Kyle said as he tried to pull her back into him. But Devon straightened and stepped back, determined to hold herself up on her own.

She turned and addressed the team again. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming.”

Marc led her gently out the front doors by the arm. As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Nick standing against the hallway in the shadows, well behind the other members of his team, a dark and troubled look on his face.

He was staring right back at her.

“So, how’re you holding up?” Marc said as he sat the cappuccino down in front of her.

“How are
you
doing, Marc?”

He looked to the side. “Not sure. Kind of numb. I miss her. Miss the humor, and her guts.” He gave her a sad smile.

“Thank you for doing what you did for her in the end.”

“Not in the end. I don’t think she wanted me to witness that.”

Devon sipped her cappuccino. “But you brought a rosy glow to her cheeks, something none of the rest of us could do. And for that, I thank you.”

She remembered having coffee here with Nick, and the little heart-shaped design the barista had drawn in the foam. Today it was a feather of some kind. She shared Marc’s nostalgia for days gone past.

The silence between them was exactly what she needed. As she sipped the warm liquid, closed her eyes and savored it, she realized she’d forgotten to eat this morning. “Hmmm. The first thing I’ve put into my stomach today.”

“I’m starved too,” he said. Her own pain mirrored his. They were both starved for the affection of someone who was no longer present in their lives.

The bistro was dark inside, which was just fine with Devon. She knew in the wrong kind of harsh light she’d look like a drug addict. Her frown after they’d ordered got Marc’s attention.

“Talk to me, Devon. What’s going on with the investigation?”

“They found large arsenic crystals at the bottom of Sophie’s water tank. She’d been drinking a lethal dose for who knows how long, maybe years.”