The Inn(41)

Clay struggled. Cline watched as the sheriff glanced at the men guarding the doorway of his office as though seeking their assistance. Always looking somewhere else for help.

“I’ll give you a million dollars,” Cline said, throwing a hand out as though he were tossing bills into the air. “I’ll even tell you what to do with it so you don’t blow it all on cheap hookers and a yellow Hummer. Go and get gastric-band surgery. Liposuction. A brow shave and some cosmetic dental work. Put some of the cash into fast rollover investments. Hire a personal trainer, a stylist, and a speech therapist and get yourself a decent watch, for fuck’s sake. If you like law enforcement that much, get a cover job—consult for a private security firm, something that gets you into a suit every day instead of a Halloween costume with a toy cowboy badge. In twelve months, your life will be unrecognizable.”

The sheriff’s pudgy mouth opened and closed a few times. Cline waited, but the words that eventually came out were not what he expected.

“I like my life,” Clay said. His face suddenly darkened, shifted. Cline was looking at a man for an instant. An equal. “And you’ve just offered me a bribe, sir.”

The sheriff stood. Cline looked up at him, impressed and amused, yes, but mostly annoyed.

“I’m going to forget what you just said and bid you good night,” Clay said.

Cline sat in the dark for a long time after Sheriff Spears was gone. Eventually Cline let a sigh escape his lips. He looked at Turner, who waited expectantly for a command.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE





MIDNIGHT, WHEN WE would enact our plan, was approaching. I felt the hour coming on, though that didn’t stop me from checking my watch every ten minutes, meeting Effie’s eyes knowingly across the fire blazing between us in the pit. When we first started the Inn, the firepit in the woods by the house had been regularly in use, the rising gold embers drawing people out of their rooms to the old rickety benches Siobhan had bought and placed around the barbecue area. The warmth of the flames, Malone jabbering in my ear, brought back memories. Those great old times were mingling confusingly with the new as I followed the embers up toward the dark trees above and imagined Marni leaving us, so young, so unfairly, for whatever realm was next.

I gripped my bench hard when I thought of her, imagining her tiny form beneath the sheets on the gurney rolling by me, unnoticed. The hospital had insisted Marni’s mother identify her, and I had followed the woman’s direction not to go and view her body. The last time I saw the child was in the back of Clay’s squad car when I’d promised her better things were coming.

“The guy was a monster,” Malone was telling Susan, the two of them sitting on either side of me. “He used to walk into the break room and go, ‘What’s that smell? I thought this was a police station. All I see around me are pieces of shit.’ He never approved overtime, personal expenses, sick leave. You can’t work with a captain like that. So this guy here comes up with a genius plan.” Malone slapped me on the chest, taking me away from my thoughts. Susan was watching me carefully.

“Tell her what you did.” Malone grinned.

Despite everything, I couldn’t help smiling. “I started sending him presents.”

“Bill starts sending our asshole captain presents.” Malone laughed. “He sends this cute little box with a big red bow and inside is a red lace thong in a size two. The note is from a secret admirer in the E-Thirteen District.”

“I didn’t think it would work,” I told Susan, who was trying not to laugh. “But it did, really well. The captain comes around showing everybody this thong, twirling it on his finger and reading the letter about how the woman can’t wait to wear it for him and the things she’s gonna do.”

“He’s quite the erotic storyteller.” Malone slapped me again. “You’d be surprised.”

“So what happened?” Susan asked.

“I sent him the thong, then a box of chocolate body paint and a pair of those fluffy handcuffs,” I said. “By the time the third gift arrived the captain had put in for a transfer to E-Thirteen District.”

“That is genius.” She laughed. “I could have used that tactic about a dozen times across my career.”

Malone noticed how miserably Angelica was slouched beside him, watching the flames reflected in a glass of wine. He turned to her, and Susan turned to me.

“Are you okay?” Susan asked me. I hadn’t realized I had that thousand-yard stare.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Old memories, you know. They stir things up.”

“Want to go for a walk?” she asked.

We left the group at the fire and strolled through the trees to the beach. It was an unseasonably warm night, and the water was pale glass, the way it had been when Nick walked out here in the tangle of his own nightmares, reflecting an eerie gold moon near the horizon. Susan clutched her coat around her and watched the stones passing beneath her feet, the only sound the lapping of the water nearby and the horns of boats in the distance returning home.

I broke the silence reluctantly.

“You must know what we did,” I said. “Me and Malone.”





CHAPTER FIFTY





“WHAT DO YOU mean?” Susan frowned.