It took Cait awhile to get to sleep with RT one floor below. It was a restless sleep with a returning dream, similar to one she’d had when she moved into the house. She was in an open convertible heading south on Coastal Highway 1 with Roger, her deceased husband. Low-flying shorebirds and gulls glided in and out along the blue Pacific. Instead of being on their honeymoon, like in the first dream, they were headed to Carmel to attend a funeral.
A fog bank of new faces drifted overhead—Chip Fallon, Kenneth Alt, and Hank Dillon. The car missed a curve on the road and plummeted over the side toward the sea.
Cait screamed and shot up in bed. Her chest pounded; tears spilled down her cheeks.
Niki leaped on top of her, licking her face.
She hugged him and squeezed her eyes shut against the vision of falling into the ocean. She didn’t believe dreams were messages from Beyond any more than she believed in coincidences, but what did the dream mean?
Someone banged on the door.
“Cait, open the damn door!”
She stumbled out of the bed. “Coming.”
She unlocked the door and almost fell into RT. He caught her and held her tight against his warm body. “Jesus, Cait! I heard you scream and thought someone crawled in the window and attacked you.” He held her away and stared hard into her face. “It scared the hell out of me.”
Cait felt tremors in RT’s hands as he held her and saw tears well in his eyes. It shook her to the core to see this big, tough SEAL with his emotions transparent. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body reacted like a match to gas. She couldn’t hold back any longer. “RT, please . . .”
RT loosened Cait’s hold on him and took a step up, closed the door, and locked it. She felt his heart beating as he swept her up in his arms and carried her up the rest of the way.
When he laid her down on the bed, she realized RT wasn’t wearing pajamas.
Cait awoke at dawn to an empty bed, except for Niki sprawled at the foot. Filtered sunlight drifted across the room. She stretched and forced herself to get up and in the shower. She left her hair to dry naturally and dressed in shorts and T-shirt, then stood at the window for a few moments to admire the golden hills, cloudless blue sky, and the sun shimmering over the vineyard. She turned away and picked up her keys, cell, and gun. “Come on, Niki.”
The kitchen smelled of toast and coffee. Detective Rook and two officers in jeans and sport shirts stood in the middle of the room talking with RT and Marcus.
“What’s going on?”
“These officers saw a pickup parked on Cross Road,” Rook said, “and a couple of guys climbing on the hill.”
“They saw us,” one of the officers said, “and took off running. We chased them, but they had a head start and we lost them.”
Cait felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. “What did they look like?”
“Too far away to tell, but we traced the California plate to a John LeBow.”
Cait shook her head. “The name means nothing to me. What about the pickup?”
“Ford, black, big tires,” Rook said. “Sound like the pickup you saw yesterday?”
She nodded.
“We had it towed,” Detective Rook said, “but they’ll find new wheels. They haven’t finished what they came here to do.” He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll get them. The longer they’re here, the more desperate they’ll be. Desperate people make mistakes.” He introduced the officers. “Perough and Vanicheque will hang around for awhile. I got catching up to do at the station, but I’ll be in touch.”
“Cait’s expecting Calder Manning sometime,” RT said. “Let’s not confuse him with Wally Dillon and his pal.”
“Shep probed deeper into Manning’s background,” Cait said. “Manning wrote a dissertation on medieval history. Coincidence?”
“Wonder if he knows a halberd from a hammer,” Rook said.
“It crossed my mind,” Cait said.
“I hope Manning can convince Wally to turn himself in. I’d like nothing more than to slap cuffs on him and arrest him for Chip Fallon’s murder and the attempts on you, Cait.”
A knock at the door drew their attention.
RT opened it.
“Hi,” Fumié said as she stepped inside and looked at the officers. “Why are the police here?”
Cait smiled. Fumié was like a breath of fresh air in pink shorts and white T-shirt. “You know Detective Rook. Officers Perough and Vanicheque will be here awhile.”
“Does it have anything to do with the guy I saw in the vineyard?”
The officers and Rook exchanged glances. “What’s he look like?” Rook asked.
“I don’t know, but he wasn’t working, and there’s no truck in the driveway like the one Kurt Mathews drives. He saw me staring at him.”
“Stay here.” Rook and the officers ran out the door.
RT pulled his gun and checked the chamber as gunfire erupted outside.
“Down!” RT shouted.
Cait and Fumié scrambled under the counter and Marcus ducked into his office.