The Dark Horse, стр. 21
«Yes, I'm serious. Steve said that you told him that I was ill and needed to be hospitalized. Voluntarily if possible.»
«I don't know what the hell Steve is playing at, but I never said anything like that. Ever.» «Are you saying Steve lied?» «Are you saying I would?»
I'd expected him to waffle a bit; claim that maybe Steve had misunderstood, although as far as I could tell Steve had got it right in every way that counted. «Steve has no reason to lie.» I could see that hurt him; his face went stony.
«Come on, Sean. Steve is jealous as hell of you – and he plays you like a pro.» And as though that weren't enough of a red flag flapping in my face, he added flatly, «And for the record, if I thought you needed to be hospitalized, I wouldn't waste time calling Steve for back up or trying to talk you into it.»
I was so mad I could hardly get the words out without stuttering. «Now that I believe, you arrogant son of a bitch!» Dan's eyes turned arctic-blue. Hard to believe I'd ever seen them warm with tenderness or alight with laughter. «You want to explain this?» I hurled the plastic bag of post cards at him. He caught them one-handed, barely glancing at the bag. «You went through my desk?»
His contempt made me defiant. «Hey, it's my house. And technically it's my desk.»
He went so still he didn't appear to be breathing, and yet, despite the silence I heard something shatter. I didn't let myself stop to consider what I was doing; that I was deliberately destroying something that might be irreplaceable. I just kept sweeping the counters and letting the valuables smash on the floor.
«Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, but I never saw them. You want to explain that to me?»
All at once he was totally calm. «Why don't you tell me what you think it means?»
I said, «I think you had Maria take them out of the mail when you weren't here to grab them first.» «That's right.» Zero apology or guilt. «How the hell dare you?»
He snorted. «'How the hell dare I?' You sound like a B-movie. I'll tell you how the hell I dared. You were coming apart at the seams. I tried to protect you – if only from yourself.»
Well, there was pretty much the confirmation I was looking for. He might not have phrased things exactly the way Steve remembered, but the intent seemed to be the same. «I didn't ask you to protect me!» «What are you talking about? It's my job to protect you!»
«Then,» I cried. «Before we were together. Not now. Not once we –« I couldn't finish it because whatever we had been, it was ending now. Even if I'd wanted to pull out of this tailspin, it was too late. Our relationship was crashing and burning in front of us. «Kid, you've got some weird ideas of what happens when people get together.» He had developed a knack for pushing all the wrong buttons. «Like you're an expert on relationships?»
He opened his mouth and then bit back whatever he started to say. Unreasonably, his restraint further goaded me. I sneered, «I don't have your experience, that's for sure. And I don't want it.» «Yeah, that came through loud and clear.»
Not like I hadn't asked for that one, but all at once the heat went out of my anger. I felt numb. I said, «What else did you lie about? Obviously Hammond isn't dead, is he? I'm still getting postcards from him.»
«The postcards aren't from Hammond,» he said with acrid satisfaction. «I didn't lie about him being dead or about getting the cards analyzed. The writing isn't his. It's not even that good of a forgery.» «Then who sent them?» «I'm not sure. Yet.»
It took a second for that to register. He didn't say he didn't know, he said he wasn't sure. So he thought he knew. He had a suspect. Another piece of information he wouldn't be sharing because he didn't trust me with the truth. The arrogant son of a bitch actually believed that «protecting» me meant keeping me in a state of blissful ignorance. Only ignorance wasn't bliss. It was dangerous. «Really? I thought you had all the answers.» Dan said wearily, «I thought I had one or two of them figured out. I guess not.»
I understood that we were no longer talking about Steve or Hammond. My chest rose and fell as though I'd raced to get to this moment with Dan, and now here we stood with a chasm growing wider and wider between us. I could feel the ring he'd bought me resting on my breast bone like a weight on my heart. I heard myself say, «I guess it's over.» I waited for him to say something. Anything. He said nothing. His eyes never wavered from mine.
«I can't be with someone I don't trust. And I can't trust someone who doesn't trust me.» To my amazement he laughed. Not a very pleasant laugh, granted.
His gaze moved deliberately from the plastic bag of postcards to the desk I had searched. «I can see that might be a problem.» Heat flooded my face. Dan shrugged. «You got one thing right. It's over.»
Chapter Seven
I watched the Sebring crest the hilltop and wind down the road leading to the beach house. The car disappeared from sight.
I checked my watch. Four-thirty. Steve was late as usual. He'd be late to his own funeral.
Over the distant crash of waves I heard the faint slam of a car door and my nerves tightened. Show time.
I caught a glimpse of a blue shirt and the top of his head as he hurried along the side of the deck. He started up the stairs, checking when he noticed me sitting at the patio table. «Dude! What are you doing out here?» «Waiting for you.»
«Yeah? Well, I got here as soon as I could.» He glanced past me toward the open glass door. «So where is everybody?»
«Maria's gone for the day. Markowitz was recalled.» I shrugged. «With Hammond dead, the cops didn't want to waste anymore of the taxpayer's money.»
«How weird is that?» Steve shook his head. «I mean, to think he was dead the whole time.» He eyed me speculatively. «But what about Lenny Norman's murder?» «It wasn't connected. The cops are holding his neighbor.» «So it's just us? Dan really is gone?»
«Yep. That's over.» I drained my glass. My hand shook a little and I watched him note it. The pain was real and raw; I couldn't hide it, but I couldn't let myself think about it for even a moment. «Is he going to be stopping by later to pick his junk up?»
I shook my head. It had seemed like Dan's stuff was everywhere, but it had taken him exactly seventeen efficient minutes to collect his things. He'd left nothing but his fingerprints. He sure as hell hadn't left any excuse for coming back.
Straddling the bench across from me, Steve smiled that guileless smile I knew so well. The smile he wore when things had gone well at the race track.
«Shit, man. Just like that? True, I can't pretend I ever liked the guy, but I know you …» Despite the smile he couldn't bite back, his mournful brown eyes looked sadder than ever. «How are you doing?»
«Not good.» He rose, reaching for my empty glass, and I added, «Not bad enough to do a Norman Maine.»
He laughed at the A Star is Born reference and went inside the house. It took him about four minutes. When he came back he had refilled my glass and poured himself a beer. «So … what happened?» He handed me my glass.
I took it and set it down on the table. «I asked him whether he had talked to you about getting me committed.»
«He never used the word 'committed,'» Steve said, as though – in fairness to Dan – it was really important to keep this point straight.
«Yeah, that's what he said. In fact, he said he never had any such discussion with you at all.» «What's he going to say?» Steve asked reasonably. «True.» «So he just denied everything?»
«Pretty much. He admitted he asked you to stop encouraging me to believe Hammond was still out there.» «Threatened me is more like it,» Steve said. «Really?»
«He wanted to keep you in a bubble,» Steve said. «Like it was just you two and nobody else existed. That's not healthy.» He glanced at my untouched glass.