The Disappearance (59 page)

“She wanted to,” Allison manages to gurgle, from lips popping from the pressure on his neck. He’s clawing at Luke’s hands with his fingernails, but Luke’s grasp is too strong.

“
She
wanted to? She was a
kid
—it’s not her place to make those decisions. If she’d wanted to play Russian roulette, would you have let her? That poor girl had no chance, not the way you set it up!”

And then, as quickly as it came, his rage is spent, and he lets go. Joe Allison drops to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath.

Luke’s done all the physical violence he’s going to do. “There are two people dead and so many others whose lives are in ruins because of your childish selfishness, your preening narcissism.” He looks down at Allison, quivering on the floor. “I saved your life, yes. And you know what? I’m angry about that. I’m enraged. I’m enraged at myself. For being a part of this.”

He turns away. “We won. Technically, we won. But in the what’s-real-and-right sense, everybody lost. And I’m going to be scarred with that, for the rest of my life.”

Luke does have a celebratory dinner, of sorts, he and Riva with Ferdinand De La Guerra. A quiet dinner at Casa Donna, where the old money eats and he isn’t likely to run into anyone he knows.

“What are your plans?” the old judge asks. He knows Luke is in pain. He’s won big and lost big at the same time.

“I don’t have any. Not professionally. Being a father, that’ll suit me fine for a while.”

He got the worst of his anger out of his system. This is the profession he chose, and this is how things work out sometimes. He did his job—he defended his client to the best of his ability. Anything else was out of his control. You have to let these things go.

“You could stay here,” De La Guerra offers. “You could have a nice practice.”

“Sure. The establishment lawyers love me.”

“You did your job. Everyone respects that. Any one of them would’ve done the same thing.”

“Except not as well,” Riva says.

“Except not as well,” De La Guerra agrees.

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t know what I want to do now. But I know I don’t want to do this, not right now. And I don’t have to.”

He’d sent Doug Lancaster’s check back. The next day, a new one came in its place. The accompanying note read “I offered a reward for finding out who killed my daughter. You found out. I stand by my word. You earned the money. I expect you to cash this. Doug Lancaster.” The check was for half a million dollars.

He doesn’t know if he’ll cash it; but he probably will. The man sincerely wants him to. And to be brutally honest, Doug Lancaster can afford it. Call it blood money, for the grief he caused Luke and everyone else.

They shake hands outside the restaurant. “I don’t know if I did the right thing or the wrong thing,” De La Guerra says. “But it was good to see you in harness again, Luke. You’re still as good as they come.”

“Thanks, old man.”

The judge turns to Riva. “You take care of him. He needs someone good taking care of him.”

“I’ll try,” she promises. “That’s all I can do.”

“I suspect you’ll do very well,” he smiles. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

The parking attendant pulls up in the Cadillac. One last awkward embrace between the old man and the younger one. “
Vaya con Dios
,” De La Guerra says. “And be careful.”

“And you.”

The old truck is packed. It’s parked outside the rental house. Tomorrow morning the people from Bekins will come to get the rental furniture, and they’ll drive away.

They stand on the balcony, looking at the lights of the city shining down below. “Are you glad you came back?” she asks. “After all is said and done, are you glad you did this?”

“Glad? I don’t know if that’s the right word.” He’s sipping champagne. Not because he won, that’s too hollow. Because it’s over. Because he and Riva are still alive. “But yes,” he reflects, “I think coming back was a good thing. Maybe ‘good’ is the wrong word. A
necessary
thing.”

“You conquered all your demons.”

“Some of them. The ones that needed it.”

“That’s what I meant.” She smiles. “I like it here. I could live here.”

He regards her half suspiciously. “You think so?”

“Yes.” She turns to him. “It’s still your city, Luke. If you want it to be.”

“I guess,” he says, reluctantly half agreeing. He puts his arm around her, pulls her close. “I guess it could be.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I won’t be long.”

She goes inside, turning the lights off behind her, leaving one burning in the kitchen to guide him. He leans against the railing, staring down at the city, the lights laid out like a constellation, a blanket of earthly stars.

He came home a loser in his own mind, and now he doesn’t feel that way about himself anymore. And maybe, at the end of the day, that’s enough.

This is his city again, if he wants it to be. He looks at the lights twinkling at his feet, and he feels some inner peace.

It’s been a long time coming.

D
AVID A. FREEDMAN, J.D
., assisted me with the legal aspects of the story, and was especially helpful in the areas of trial law. Terry Lammers, J.D., and Kristofer Kallman, J.D., advised me regarding California law. Chris Carter provided expertise about surfing and the central coastal areas north of Santa Barbara. Terry Cannon, J.D., from the office of the Santa Barbara County District Attorney, helped in areas regarding prosecutorial procedures.

Al Silverman, my editor, who has retired, was, as usual, terrific in working closely with me to make this a better book. I will miss him. Bob Lescher, my agent, was very supportive and helpful, both professionally and personally. I’m also grateful to Elaine Koster and Lori Lipsky at Dutton for their unflagging enthusiasm for this book, and for my overall body of work.

J. F. Freedman is the
New York Times
bestselling author of
Against the Wind
,
The Disappearance
,
House of Smoke
, and
In My Dark Dreams
, among other titles. He is also an award-winning film and television director, writer, and producer. He lives in California.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1998 by J. F. Freedman

Cover design by Angela Goddard

978-1-4804-2400-5

This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com