Best Laid Plans(3)

He thought time would fix the problem, as long as he was here for her, and some nights she did sleep soundly. But not tonight. The urge to hit something propelled him out of bed. He’d put in an aggressive workout later. Instead, he followed Lucy downstairs.

He thought she’d be in the kitchen brewing coffee—he smelled the rich coffee beans Lucy liked—but the pool lights were on. He walked outside and saw Lucy swimming laps, her long, curvy body as graceful as a mermaid’s as she swam the breaststroke one way, flipped, and did the backstroke going back. He could watch her for hours. She’d swum in high school and college, but now she did it for fun. Or a workout. Or trying to out-swim her personal demons.

The late spring nights were cool, but not cold, and the early morning air was refreshing. It would be another humid scorcher today, but right now the weather was perfect. Maybe there was a benefit to getting up at three thirty in the morning.

Sean liked everything about the Olmos Park house he’d picked out for them, but the pool had sold him. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the others—no rock walls or elegant waterfalls or curving design. It was a large, black-bottomed rectangle and the only added touches were custom tiles along the edges and a raised infinity hot tub that dropped water into the pool below. When Lucy first saw the pool she grinned like a kid, then jumped in fully clothed. Such behavior was out of character, but also a testament to her complete and total joy, justifying Sean’s decision to purchase the house and surprise her.

Sean wanted that Lucy back. The Lucy he knew was still in there, waiting for the nightmares to run their course.

After twenty laps, Lucy slowed down for a few more, then got out and spotted him. “I woke you up,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He handed her a towel and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged and dried off. “I feel better.” She drank from a water bottle. She was out of breath, but there was color in her cheeks.

He wrapped a hand around her neck and kissed her warmly. “I’m here.”

“It helps.”

“I want to do more.”

“You do far more for me than you should. I need to stand on my own two feet. But having you here gives me peace. Know that. I’ll get over this funk.”

“It’s more than a funk, Lucy. We’ve been back for two months and you’ve only slept through the night twice.”

She frowned. “Are you keeping track?”

“No, not like that, but I love you and I know when you’re not sleeping.”

“The nightmares aren’t so bad,” she said. “They just seem real. They startle me, because I wake up at first not knowing that it was a dream. I think that’s what’s bothering me so much. There’s like a minute or two when I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who I’m with, I think I’m still there.”

“Where are you?”

She didn’t answer the question, not directly. “It changes.” But she didn’t look him in the eye, and he feared she was retreating further into the past, beyond the imprisoned boys in Mexico, back to the darkest time of her life, when she’d been held captive by a psychopath and repeatedly raped.

Sean hugged her tightly, because he had to. For him as much as for her. She grabbed him just as tight. She whispered, “Let’s go back to bed.”

He kissed her. He would have made love to her in the pool, on the lounge chair, anywhere, but Lucy would be nervous having sex outside. And he wanted—needed—her to relax and feel how much he loved her. He picked her up and carried her inside.

As soon as he stepped through the door, the house phone rang. Lucy jumped out of his arms. “It’s never good news before dawn,” she said and answered the closest phone. “Hello?”

Sean watched her face. In two blinks she’d gone from romantic to panicked to professional.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she said a few minutes later then hung up. “That was Juan. A VIP is dead. Doesn’t appear to be murder, but the circumstances are suspicious, and the dead guy is a government contractor with high-level security clearance. The powers that be want the FBI to take the lead.”

The way she spoke surprised Sean. “Do you know him?”

“No, why?”

“Because you generally show more compassion for the dead.”

She hesitated then said, “SAPD reports that the guy, fifty-four, was having sex with an underage prostitute when he died. They think heart attack, the girl got scared and ran. The police think the girl robbed him after he died. She was scared that her pimp would beat her senseless if she didn’t bring back any money. And yet this pervert is the victim? If the police find her, they’ll terrify her even more.” She started up the stairs. Halfway up she turned around. “I’m sorry, Sean.”

“No apologies. It’s nice to see that fire back. But I will take a rain check on what you promised.”

She smiled at him, warm and genuine with a hint of teasing. “I’m cashing in that rain check tonight.” Then she ran up the stairs.

Maybe Lucy was okay. At least she sounded like she was back on track.

Sean went to the kitchen to make her breakfast. If he didn’t feed her before she left, he knew she’d go without until lunch, and after that morning swim, she needed fuel.