Unlock the Truth (29 page)

“Not planning to,” she said, and grinned.

Zeke walked naked to the kitchen and wondered if Manny had slept over. He stood at the window but couldn’t make out if Manny’s car was out there or not. Midnight in the desert always surprised him, so still, so dark.

He opened the refrigerator door, the interior light beamed through the dark room. He grabbed a diet soda and a bottle of water then went to the pantry for a bag of chips. Not fancy fare, but hey, it was the middle of the night. He strode back down the long hallway. The office door was closed. He’d taken Dena’s advice and locked it again this afternoon.

A soft scratching sound alerted him. He stood still, listened. It could have come from the roof, probably an animal, but he walked to the office door and pressed his ear to the wood. All was silent. His keys were upstairs on the bedside table. He shrugged. There were a lot of nighttime predators in the desert. He was sure it was okay, probably a rat in the rafters.

He padded down the hall, his thoughts on nighttime noises and wondered if Manny had heard a woman scream out in passion from the vicinity of his bedroom. He grinned. That’s what this place needed: more sex, more life. He’d lived in the shadows for too long. Dena had come here for closure on her sister’s death but she’d bought life back into the old place. He doubted Three C’s would ever be the same again. He wanted her to stay forever, and yet the very thought of commitment had the fires of fear licking at his heels.

His steps faltered as he moved toward the bedroom. He knew he couldn’t have things both ways. Soon, real soon, he’d have to address the issue.

Dena sat naked and crossed-legged on the bed. She reached for another chip. “These are good. I think it’s the salt. I never eat salt.”

“Why?” Zeke asked, and took a swallow of water.

“It causes too much bloating.”

He raised his chin. “Ah.”

“Have you ever been married, Zeke?”

Okay, fair enough. It was time for the “let’s really get to know each other” talk. And then they’d have the “where is this going?” talk.

“Nope, I came close to it twice,” he said, and slid beneath the top sheet. “Well…to being engaged twice.”

“And why didn’t you go ahead?” Dena asked, and chomped on another chip.

“Circumstances.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “The first was Susie. We were too young and we knew that. We went off to our separate colleges and things fizzled out.”

Like he’d expected they would.

Like his mother had said they would.

“And the second?”

“Jenny. We met in graduate school, both business majors. After a while I felt we were together because we thought we had to stay.”

He reached for a couple of chips, chewed slowly. Dena eyed him with what looked like a mix of humor and understanding in her eyes. He shrugged, grabbed a couple more chips. “I realized before it was too late that I’d been thinking in terms of society. You know. That old expression, ‘It’s time to settle down.’ It turned out she felt the same way, so it was a mutual parting.”

“I think that’s why I married,” Dena said. “Why it failed.”

“Were you married for a long time?” Zeke asked, and stroked her arm. Her body stiffened. This must be a touchy subject for her.

“No, we were together one year, married for two years.” Dena looked away. “We both knew early on that it was a mistake. He’s happily married now with a young child.”

“And you chose career?”

Dena made a face, but she seemed to relax a little more. “Yeah, it was the easiest way to appease my guilt at the failure in relationships. I’ve never been good at them.”

“You didn’t want children, a family of your own?”

“Families are overrated,” she said, and gave him a dark look.

He laughed. “And like me, you’ve run from relationships ever since.”

“I guess you could say that,” Dena said, then her face brightened. “But I haven’t entirely given up hope.”

“Ah, so you do want kids?”

“Maybe.” She turned toward him. “If I meet someone unafraid to commit, and if I can commit, and if it’s not too late.” She laughed. “That’s a lot of ifs.”

He smiled again and stroked her arm.

“Did your mother ever question your lack of commitment? I mean, did she want grandchildren?”

“I suppose,” he said, and narrowed his eyes for a split second. “You know, she never said anything. But I mentioned this earlier. She was kind of private, reclusive in her later years.”

“What type of work did you do in between degrees?”

“Financial management at a firm in downtown L.A. It was right next door to the Bonaventure.”

“I could picture you there. All suited up.” She smiled then glanced away. “Would you be upset with me, if I told you something Manny had suggested about your mother?”

Zeke’s chest tensed and he sat straighter. He shook his head, and let the bag of chips slide to the sheet. “No, of course not, we promised each other there’d be no more secrets.”

He moved away a little and rested his head back on the pillows. Dena sat naked on top of the sheet. All the signs were there that this was going to be big—the warning bells pealed—he’d said she could say anything, but would he regret it?

She took a sip of soda and put the can on the bedside table and turned back toward him. Her face was serious. It could be important, he reminded himself. She’d been playing amateur detective. It could be a major clue to this whole mess. He noticed the slight frown on her forehead, and felt his brow wrinkle in response.

“Manny said your mother and Rocky had an intimate relationship.”

“What?” Zeke sat forward, eyes wide. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. His heart rate accelerated, his blood pounded hard in his ears. He couldn’t draw a deep breath. He felt like he was bungee jumping and the cord had just snapped after the freefall.

“What…what do you mean?”

Dena’s eyes went soft. “When he was a young boy he heard noises in the casita that sounded like well…like lovemaking.” She gave him an apologetic look. “He told his mother and she slapped him and told him to mind his own business.”

Horror filled Zeke. This was ridiculous. It was a lie. He couldn’t breathe, his mother and Rocky? How dare she say that? He clenched a fist. She reached to touch him and he flinched and drew back from her.
Good God, what had she uncovered? No, he couldn’t go there, it was too sick.

His head pounded with the increase in adrenaline that poured into his veins, and his thoughts crashed into each other. This was all wrong. He’d loved his mother and had to stay true to that memory. And Rocky was a friend. There was an issue of family loyalty to uphold.

“Hear me out, Zeke, it could be important.”

“No,” he said, and stood. He pulled on his boxers, wanted to get dressed and escape but this was his room. “No, that’s wrong. They had a business partnership. That’s all.”

He paced around the room; his chest constricted, and his pulse pounded. He stopped and ran a hand through his hair and slowed his breathing. He glared at her. She stared back. She was a stranger—a woman obsessed with finding her sister’s murderer—and she’d glom onto anything and call it a clue and he had to remember that. He’d been so stupid to trust her with his feelings. Hell, he’d even confided his past.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dena said, and tried to reach for him.

He was stunned. “Doesn’t matter?” Sweat beaded on his brow.
What is wrong with her? Doesn’t matter
? He stared out the window then leaned forward. What the hell was that? A dark shape moved fast toward the barn, he shrugged, couldn’t quite make it out. It was probably just a wild animal.

He turned back to her, swallowed hard, and tried to keep his voice level. “We’re talking about my mother, and a high school friend, a guy who was like a brother.”

Her eyes shimmered.
Damn.
She was about to cry.
Don’t freakin’ cry.

“I’m not judging your mother,” she said, and blinked hard. “I want answers to things that—”

“Things you shouldn’t poke your nose into. Rocky is my age. A childhood friend.”

“So, he…he grew up.”

That was flip and unlike her, and he cringed. “I think you need to go back home.” He kept his voice firm, blocked out every warm memory and with the cold precision of the surgeon’s blade, cut her loose. “Forget about me. Forget everything here.”

Dena seemed to freeze for a second. Her eyes went wide then she blinked hard several times. He knew he’d overreacted but couldn’t stop the cold anger that froze inside his chest. Or the words that spilled from his mouth. How childish could that be? While it didn’t make any sense, he couldn’t stop his anger at her suggestions. It was like he was a kid again. He pushed that thought away.

“But Zeke, I—”

“She was my mother, for chrissakes,” he said, icily. “I might not have known her well in her later years, but I loved her.”

“But she was also a woman. A young woman left alone.”

A pulse bounded at the side of his throat. He watched her, fascinated. He couldn’t grasp what she said. Something about it was normal to seek comfort, to—

“My mother wasn’t interested in men,” he said, and averted his gaze. He fought to gain control, to block her words and the image of his friend and his mother, together.

****

Anger flared behind Dena’s cool exterior. She’d forge ahead with her discovery and explanation, whether he liked it or not. She waited until he turned around.

“Manny said he never told you because of his mother’s request,” Dena said. His gaze fell to her body, naked in the lamplight. She didn’t cover up. He looked away.

“But, why don’t you ask him?” Dena said, and kept her voice cool and controlled. “Apparently the affair lasted many years.”

Zeke spun around, moved toward her, his jaw set. A tiny tic pulsed in his right cheek and his green-hazel eyes were dark with anger.

“Just because you have problems with your mother,” he said, his voice tight. “Just because you can’t stand her, don’t come in here and throw dirt around and—”

Dena swung her legs over the other side of the bed, and turned her back toward him. “I don’t hate my mother.”

“Well, you sure show your love in a strange way.”

Anger flared and swelled in her chest. “I just…I don’t understand her…I—”

She was close to tears. She didn’t hate her mother, did she? He’d heard her phone calls. She felt queasy and shaky. Whatever intimacy they’d shared up until five minutes ago had been replaced by anger and defensiveness on his part, and now on hers. He held onto the loyalty to his mother, who had been cold and rejecting for most of his life, so what sense did that make?

“I’ll go,” Dena said, and gathered her clothes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult. I’ll stay in the casita tonight.”

He turned, looked like he was about to say something. What was left to say?

“Fine,” he said. “Tomorrow you’d better go back to L.A.”

“What will you do about the plans we’ve worked on?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Steve will have suggestions.” He turned toward the window and shoved both hands on his hips.

“Yes, that would be a good idea, he could take over.”

Zeke cleared his throat, twice. He didn’t turn to look at her. She knew it meant “move on, there’s nothing left to say.” He’d dismissed her. She was smart, she got that.

She grabbed her clothes and hurried naked as the day she was born to the bathroom down the hall. He needed privacy to think this through.

Her eyes welled with tears. She didn’t hate her mother, but if that’s what Zeke thought, what did her mother think? And if he thought she was a selfish bitch then how could they have ever had a life together? She pulled her sweats on and shoved her underwear into the pocket. It was better to find out now what his true feelings were, rather than later.

She sniffled, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. In the morning she’d leave. She’d forget all about solving Carli’s murder, and she’d put that energy into repairing whatever was left of her relationship with her mother.

They’d create a smaller but closer family.

And Zeke would never have to see her again.

Chapter Twenty

Dena jolted awake. Where was she and what was that sound? Every part of her body went on alert. She took a deep breath, realized she was in the living room at the casita, in an armchair, in the pitch black of midnight, snuggled beneath a blanket.

She and Zeke had argued.

A soft crunch sounded outside the window, then another. She held her breath and listened. There it was again, a definite crunch. Footsteps. She’d observed that sound whenever she’d moved off the concrete and onto the edges of the garden beds that were covered with crushed rock. Was someone out there, or was it a wild animal, maybe a feral cat? No, the tread was too heavy.

She put the recliner footrest down with caution. Perhaps it was Zeke coming to apologize? But she knew him, he’d have called first. Or, he’d knock on the door. She shuddered. There was nowhere to run. No way out. Every instinct told her to hide.

The sound of the doorknob turning spurred her to action. She stepped behind the chair that was closest to the wall, crouched behind it, lowered her body to the floor and clutched the blanket to her chest. She clamped one hand over her mouth, sure any intruder would hear her nervous breathing, and if not the breathing, then the heartbeat.

It couldn’t be Zeke, he’d said there was only one key. And he’d insisted on a safety chain, he’d put it on himself.
Had she remembered to use it
? In her prior emotional state, she doubted she had. Something turned in the lock and made a tiny scraping sound, then a click. Every muscle in her body tensed.

The door eased open. No light flooded the room and it should have, so the person must have removed the light bulb from the entrance. A dark shape filled the room. The door closed. The soft sound of footsteps moved toward her bedroom. Afraid to move for fear of giving herself away, she didn’t dare to even peep around the armchair. She concentrated on calming her adrenaline rush. Then she heard a sound, like punching at her bed, and almost let out a gasp. She pressed her lips tight, clamped the hand tighter over her mouth.