Racing the Light (Elvis Cole #19; Joe Pike #8)(74)

Lou was silent for a moment.

“Is she willing to cooperate?”

“Yes.”

I gave him Kimberly’s address and number and told him the reason I’d sent the pages. I explained Tarly’s misgivings and guilt, his growing resentment toward his brother-in-law, and his fear of their illegal schemes. Lou didn’t speak until I finished.

He said, “This guy will flip.”

“I think he will.”

“This girl, Kimberly, will she come in?”

“Go to her. Call first. I told her you’d call. She’s expecting your call now.”

“I’ll call. Hey—”

“You’re welcome.”

I let Kimmie know I’d spoken with Poitras. She sounded as if she was having second thoughts, so I told her a funny story about Poitras and me and we talked for a while. She was fine.

I successfully delayed going home for twenty-two minutes. I had stalled long enough. I started the car and drove toward my future.





53





My little house was dark when it came into view. Lucy’s car was out front. I parked and touched its hood. Cold. Detectives detect. They’d been home for a while.

The kitchen door was open when I came around the corner in the carport. Lucy stood framed in the doorway. I stopped and she stood and neither of us spoke. The Corvette’s hot engine creaked and popped. We looked at each other until she went back into the kitchen and I followed and closed the door.

Ben was on the couch in the living room reading something on his phone. He looked up.

“Hey. Where you been?”

I said, “Working. How about you?”

“San Diego. Traffic sucked.”

I glanced at Lucy. She was leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. She looked pensive.

“There’s leftover jambalaya if you’d like. I didn’t know, so I didn’t heat it.”

I said, “San Diego.”

“It was nice to drive.”

Ben called from the couch.

“Kill me first next time. Mom called a guy a shithead and flipped people off.”

Lucy’s nostrils flared.

“We should step outside.”

I followed her out and closed the slider. The air held a fresh coolness but wasn’t chill. It was nice. Lucy went to the rail and gazed at the canyon. I started to make a crack about drones but didn’t. I stood next to her and gazed out at the canyon like her, but we probably didn’t see the same thing.

“Sorry I left in the middle of the night, with just the note. It wasn’t a comment on us. It couldn’t be helped.”

She faced me and seemed to study me. She looked from my left eye to my right eye. She looked at my hair and my mouth and my face as if she were mapping me. Her eyes went to my chest and back up to me.

She said, “I thought about us a lot today.”

She touched my arm with her fingertips.

“About us and me and how it’s been. You’re right. This has never been about you and how you live your life, or Ben, not really. It’s been about me. About my fears and my need to control things nobody can control.”

“I wasn’t trying to lay blame or justify, neither one.”

“You said many right things and they break my heart.”

She looked at Ben, inside on the couch.

“He’s grown. He’ll be gone in a year.”

Her eyes returned to me.

“All this time, I could have had you. We could have been together. I didn’t allow it.”

“Luce.”

“I can’t change what’s done. I can’t pretend I won’t worry. I can’t swear I won’t kill you if you get hurt. I can’t even promise I won’t dump you.”

She moved closer and placed her hands on my chest.

“But I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I want to see you every day. I want to touch you every day and talk every day and know we have a future with—”

I kissed her. I held her in a way I hadn’t held her in years and kissed her and felt tears leak from my eyes as I kissed her.

Ben opened the slider.

“When are we going to eat?”

Lucy said, “Go inside and close the door.”

The slider slammed and Lucy stepped back.

“I mean it. If you’ll risk being us, I’ll risk being us. Because I want us to be us.”

I tipped my head toward the house.

“Want to shack up?”

“Here’s what I want.”

She took a small velvet box from her right pants pocket and showed me the contents. Two thin gold bands stood side by side, one larger, one smaller.

I said, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“I’m not asking anything. The rings express a commitment. If we call them something else one day, an engagement band, a wedding ring—”

She studied me carefully.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I stared at the bands. They were simple plain rings of yellow gold. I touched the smaller, then the larger. I pulled the larger band from its place in the box and fit it onto my finger.

Lucy said, “Okay. Now I want to shack up.”

“How about we eat before we shack up?”