Seventeen

They landed at Moffett Federal Airfield a few hours later and climbed into the standard-issue black Land Rover that waited for them inside the hangar. Michael took the back seat without protest. He preferred it actually; that way he was not only able to keep Lark in sight, he could laugh at him every time he took an uneasy look over his shoulder.

He barely paid attention until they drove by Mount Davidson Park toward the quiet neighborhoods tucked around it. One of those neighborhoods belonged to Sabrina. Michael sat up in his seat and looked at the rearview mirror, trying to catch Ben’s eye, but the kid wouldn’t look at him.

“The hell are we doing way over here? The FSS field office is twenty miles that way,” Lark said, jabbing a thumb out the window.

“I have other plans,” Ben said, taking a quick glance in the rearview mirror, straight at Michael. Michael didn’t like what he saw.

They rolled past Sabrina’s street and hooked a right to head up the hill. When they stopped in front of the stately Victorian painted a creamy white with French blue gingerbread detail, he stared out the window and felt like throwing up. Time had done nothing to change it. The same rosebushes with their heavy-headed blooms. The same porch swing with its deep red cushions. He hadn’t been back, hadn’t called. Not like he used to.

Just then, Miss Ettie, the elderly woman who owned and ran the B&B, stepped out onto the porch. He could see her wide smile and snappy brown eyes from where he was. She waved them in, but it wasn’t them she was waving in. It was Ben.

Michael watched him lean across the seat into Lark’s space to wave back before he put the Rover into park. “What are we doing here?” Michael said.

The kid cut him a look, an unreadable expression on his boyish face. “Checking in,” he said before climbing out of the SUV and making his way toward the house.

Michael retrieved his duffle and case from the cargo area of the Rover as slowly as he could. He watched Ben stride up the front walk, Lark lagging behind, and wondered again what the kid was up to. This was San Francisco; you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a hotel. Not to mention that it was mandatory for all FSS employees to report immediately to the field office upon arrival. He learned a long time ago that the rules rarely applied to Ben, but they were on a case. This wasn’t a social call. Why were they here?

Ben took a step forward and captured the old woman’s hand in his before he leaned in and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Watching them, Michael felt his gut clench. Ben knew her.

He thought of all the times the kid had taken off on his own after a job. It suddenly became clear where Ben had been spending his downtime and why he’d stopped asking Michael to tag along.

He couldn’t help but think of Sabrina. She lived one street over, directly behind the B&B. It’s what made staying here two years ago so convenient.

Michael watched from the cover of the Land Rover’s trunk as Miss Ettie reached out her hand and allowed Lark to shake it. It was a sight, seeing that massive hand swallow her tiny fingers in a handshake that was meant to be dainty but ended up looking awkward. Seeing Lark standing so close to the old woman reminded him of Sabrina’s grandmother. Reminded him that Lark was responsible for her death. He’d killed Lucy Walker as sure as if he’d point a gun at her and pulled the trigger.

Michael slammed the hatch and stepped onto the curb, feeling exposed and out of place when the small cluster of people in front of him turned and looked his way. Miss Ettie moved away from the men in front of her, and her face broke into a grin that grew wider and wider with each step she took toward him.

She stopped in front of him. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said, shaming him whether she meant to or not.

He dropped his duffle and case on the front walk, stunned when she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her head into his rapidly tightening chest.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“You better be. You left quite the mess behind, and you sure as hell better be sorry about that too,” she said to him before she turned and walked toward the house, expecting the men behind her to follow in her wake.