Rod could feel India’s wedding ring the whole time they made love. He tried to avoid thinking about it, even noticing it, but whenever her fingers slid between his or she ran her left hand over his body, there it was, a constant reminder.
Her ring had never bothered him quite this much. He’d figured she’d take it off when she was ready. There was no need to rush her; she’d been through so much. But he was beginning to care a great deal more for her than he had any other woman, and that was making him reluctant to share her, even with a ghost. He was so focused when he made love to her. He could see that he was acting as if he had something to prove, as if he was trying to outdistance the competition.
He needed her to care enough that she couldn’t deny her feelings. Needed to feel she wouldn’t let him down in the end. Somehow she’d managed to slip beneath his defenses when no one else could, and now he was vulnerable in a way he’d never been vulnerable before.
When they were finished, he dropped down beside her, heart pounding, short of breath. That was when the exhaustion he’d felt on the drive home hit him again.
“What happened tonight?” India asked.
“For the most part, a whole lot of nothing,” he replied. “Until I decided to go over to Sebastian’s house and have a look around.”
Her hair tumbled forward as she shoved herself up on one elbow. “Why would you take that kind of risk? Don’t you believe me that he’s dangerous?”
“I believe he can be dangerous, which is different from being dangerous all the time. I had my eyes open. I felt we needed to have something to show for tonight—to make some progress. I won’t allow this asshole to hold our lives hostage indefinitely. If we could just establish that there’s no gun in the house, we could at least cross that off our list.”
“The police checked the house when they searched, Rod.”
“He could’ve hidden it somewhere other than the house and brought it back. Or he could have another gun. That would be good to know, too, wouldn’t it?”
With a troubled sigh, she rolled onto her back.
“What?”
“I’m mad at you,” she said.
“Because I was trying to help?”
“Because you could’ve been hurt!”
“Come here.” He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “I wanted to see what I could find, figure out what Sheila’s like, just...get closer. Gain some sort of advantage or create an opportunity. You understand that, right? Winning at what we’re doing takes information as much as anything else.”
“But you don’t seem to be scared!”
He chuckled. “I’m not scared.” He had been that one moment, when he realized Sebastian was home. If not for the phone call Sebastian had received, which took his attention precisely when Rod needed that to happen, he might not have been able to get out of the house. As it was, he’d worried that Sebastian would hear the back door open and close and come after him.
Fortunately, he got away without incident.
“You should be,” she said, unwilling to back down.
“Would you like to hear about my adventure or not?” he asked.
She cast him a sullen glance, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Of course I do.”
“Fine, then. For your information, I managed to get inside the house. And I feel it was worth the effort.”
She sat up. “No way! You went inside?”
“I was after something we could work with, and I think I may have found it.”
That minimized her outrage. “Really?”
“Really.” Holding sleep at bay a little longer, he explained how he’d climbed in through Van’s window and ended up waking the boy.
“Sheila’s son saw you?”
Learning that almost set her off again. Rod could understand why she’d assume it wasn’t good news, but he didn’t think meeting the boy would be an obstacle. “Van’s her nephew, not her son, and it was dark, so he couldn’t see me clearly.”
“There’s still your voice. Your smell and size. Your cast. I would know you in an instant.”
“You’ve had sex with me,” he said.
“It’s not just that. You have a certain presence. You stand out. People remember you.”
“He’s a kid.”
“Which means he must’ve been terrified. You don’t think that’ll make him remember?”
“He was just waking up from a dead sleep. And he wasn’t half as frightened as a regular child would be. I’d say he’s more frightened of the adults he lives with than he was of me.”
She drew her legs closer to her body. “That’s sad.”
“I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him,” he agreed and went on to tell her what had happened and what he thought he’d heard Van say about the night Charlie died.
She interrupted the story at that point. “Whoa, wait a minute. He told you he was coached to say Sebastian was home that night?”
“That’s what it sounded like to me. But he was mumbling and wouldn’t repeat himself.”
“Can we get him to repeat himself to Detective Flores? Get him to tell the truth?”
Rod considered the situation from Van’s standpoint. “Right away? I doubt it. What’s in it for him, except being punished? He’s terrified of Sheila and Sebastian. Doesn’t like Eddie, either. I got the impression the adults in his life don’t treat him like they should.”
“I’m so sorry about that. But if we put Sebastian away, he won’t be able to hurt Van—or anyone else.”
“That still leaves Sheila and probably Eddie.”
“I would never purposely put a child in a bad situation. But Van knows the truth! And he wants to talk or he wouldn’t have said what he did. He can tell everyone that Sebastian wasn’t at home the night Charlie was killed!”
Rod was afraid he might’ve gotten her hopes up a little too high. Even if Van knew something that could help, getting that information out of him would be tricky—especially since Rod would also want to protect him as much as possible. “Sounded like it.”
“Then he has to talk,” she said. “The fact that he was told to lie should convince a jury, shouldn’t it?”
“It lends support to your version of events. But a child’s word won’t be enough to make the DA charge Sebastian again,” Rod said.
“I thought you were excited by what you’d uncovered.”
“I am excited. But we have to be realistic. My mind’s taking a different direction where Van’s concerned.”
“Which direction would that be?”
“We need physical proof. Forensic proof. Something that can’t be refuted.”
“Yes...”
He tugged on her hand to urge her to lie back down. “What if Van can tell us what Sebastian did with the gun?”
She took a few seconds to think that over. Then she said, “Why would Sebastian ever trust a boy with that information?”
“He wouldn’t. But Van has to have heard a lot, living in that house—if not from Sebastian, then from Sheila or even Eddie. He’s so young I doubt they pay any attention to what they say in front of him, especially if they’re high.”
“Did you ask Van about the gun?”
“I couldn’t. Not yet. If I ask too soon, he’ll just get defensive. Then he may never tell me. I need to spend more time with him, earn his trust.”
“How are you going to do that?”
He ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. “By befriending Sebastian.”
“But Van’s the person you really want to get to know?”
“Why not? I believe I stand to learn more from him. Children trust sooner and, like you said, Van wants to talk.”
She rested her cheek on her hands as she stared at him.
“So am I forgiven for scaring you?” he asked.
She didn’t answer his question. “I have something to tell you, too,” she said.
This came as a surprise. “What’s that?”
“I called Sebastian tonight.”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. “You what?”
“I thought he had you. I felt I needed to...to interrupt him, to see if I could find out anything, to stop what I feared was happening.”
“Shit, India. I don’t want you having any contact with him.”
“It’s not like I wanted to call him! I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You didn’t ask him about me, did you?”
“No. Of course not.”
He remembered how he’d found her, crying on the floor when he walked in, and realized how frightened she’d been. It had taken real courage to make that call—and it didn’t escape him that without her, he might not have made it out of Sebastian’s house as easily as he had. Her call had to be the one that’d distracted Sebastian. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I know how hard it must’ve been to hear his voice.”
She pulled up the sheet. “I’ve never felt such hate. I don’t want to feel that way anymore. It’ll only make me bitter. But...I can’t seem to let it go.”
“You will, in time,” he promised. “It’s just too close right now.”
They said nothing, just continued to stare at each other—until she broke the silence. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.
He considered all the things he could say but decided to keep his personal feelings out of it. “Because you need it.”
“I appreciate everything you’re doing. I hope you know that. But...I need you to be careful, Rod. I couldn’t take it if...if I was responsible for someone else getting hurt.”
“You’re not responsible for me, India. I’ve told you that before. I’m making my own decisions, okay?” He’d been planning to tell her about his almost-encounter with Sebastian, but her worry changed his mind. Knowing he’d had such a close call, and that only her interruption had made it possible for him to get out of Sebastian’s house, would upset her.
“What’d he say to you?” he asked.
“Not much,” she said with a frown. “I didn’t really give him the chance. I completely lost it. You saw me when you walked in. I was so afraid he’d hurt you. That’s all I could think about. And then the pain and anger from before sort of...rose up and took over.”
“How’d he react?”
“Said he still wanted me. That we should forgive each other.”
She was hard to get over. Rod wondered if he might be the one missing her and wanting her back someday. “Unbelievable.”
“He doesn’t seem to care about what he did. Killing Charlie means no more to him than if he’d swatted a fly.”
“We’ll get justice for Charlie—and for you,” Rod said. “Then you’ll be able to move ahead without looking back.”
“I hope so,” she whispered, but he could tell she was having trouble believing in that dream.
“I promise.” He took her hand and, as he threaded his fingers through hers, tried to steer her mind elsewhere, so she wouldn’t continue to worry. “Are we going to see Cassia tomorrow?”
“Rod...”
“Fine. Are you going to see her?”
She hesitated, obviously tempted. “Charlie’s parents won’t like it if I show up without any warning.”
“Do you care that they won’t like it?”
“Might be better to wait until we get this settled.”
“Why? Then, if this ever does come down to a custody battle, they can claim you showed no interest. That you didn’t visit her once while she was at their house.”
“They wouldn’t do that.”
He slid one finger down her shoulder and over one breast. “Are you sure?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then go see your little girl, regardless of whether they like it. And call her as often as you want.”
She’d seemed so remote since they’d had sex that he was almost surprised when she snuggled close. “Don’t let me fall in love with you,” she whispered.
* * *
As India had anticipated, returning to San Francisco wasn’t easy. What had happened in the city was simply too heartbreaking.
But Rod had a valid point. As vulnerable and rattled as she was, she couldn’t allow her in-laws to intimidate her, to make her feel she couldn’t see her own child. Just because she’d been nice enough to let them take Cassia didn’t mean she’d also agreed to stay away. Visitation hadn’t even been discussed, because India had never thought it would be a problem. Once the trial was over and Sebastian was put away, she’d expected her situation to improve.
Rod had come with her, although they’d taken her car and she was at the wheel, since she was familiar with where they needed to go. He’d said he wanted to spend the day with her, see where she’d lived, but she suspected he was just trying to make it easier for her to drive across the Bay Bridge and enter what she now deemed hostile territory. While there was still a small part of her that loved the city and would’ve enjoyed sharing it with him, her recent history in this place filled her with dread. She hadn’t left her home all that long ago; the memories here were so fresh and disturbing.
“This was your home?” he said as she stopped at the curb in front of the house she’d bought with Charlie—the house where he’d been killed.
She nodded. A three-bedroom, one-bath Spanish Mediterranean, it had been built in 1931 with the expansive arched windows, hardwood floors and vaulted ceilings she loved. Although small, it had a fabulous view and wasn’t far from West Portal Park, with all the shops and restaurants in that vicinity.
Whiskey Creek wasn’t San Francisco, but it had its own sort of charm—at a fraction of the cost. She was holding out hope that she could make the transition. Whether she’d stay would depend a great deal on what happened in the next several months.
“Neighborhood looks expensive,” Rod said.
“It is,” she admitted. “We paid $1.5 million for the house, and it’s only eighteen hundred square feet.”
“Wow.” He seemed suitably impressed. “Must be hard to move to Whiskey Creek after living like this,” he said. “The pace of life, everything, is so different.”
She could tell the differences bothered him, made him feel he was at a disadvantage. “I’ll be happy if I can just survive the next few weeks and months and begin rebuilding my life.”
“Understood,” he said.
She wasn’t quite sure what he understood. He seemed to think she’d warned him off. She supposed, in a way, she had. But they didn’t have the chance to talk about it. A woman dressed in workout clothes and pushing a stroller came jogging down the street. India recognized her immediately and wished she’d driven away a few seconds earlier, because now it was too late to escape without being seen. Ellie Cox, the friend who’d left her that message, was out for an afternoon run.
“Oh no,” she muttered.
“What is it?” Rod asked, but there was no time to explain. Ellie was approaching her window, so she lowered it.
“India!” Ellie cried. “How wonderful to see you again!”
India masked her true feelings with a smile. “Great to see you, too.”
Pressing a hand to her chest, Ellie took a moment to catch her breath. “So where are you living these days? I tried calling, but I’m not sure I have the right number anymore.”
India stated her name on her voice mail greeting, but she didn’t point that out. Neither did she specify her new location—although Ellie might already have heard she was in Whiskey Creek. “I got your message, but life’s been so hectic for me, what with all the changes. I haven’t had a chance to get back to you. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. I was only checking in, making sure you were okay.”
India didn’t believe she cared. Not for a minute. She’d done nothing to support India through the trial, had distanced herself as much as her husband, Mitchell, had. But for the sake of avoiding confrontation and being polite, India played along. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Ellie’s gaze shifted to Rod. “Is this...a friend?”
“My new neighbor, Rod Amos,” she said, then introduced Rod to Ellie.
“Nice to meet you.” Ellie’s words were polite, but her voice seemed to say, “Look at you...with another man already.”
Or was that India’s imagination? She had to admit she’d become sensitive to criticism.
Rod dipped his head. “My pleasure.”
“It’s great that you’re meeting new people,” Ellie said.
India curved her fingernails into her palms. “Yeah. Having a friend has made the transition a lot easier.”
Ellie’s eyes flicked to India’s wedding ring. “I’m happy to hear that.”
India turned her attention to Ellie’s baby, who was gnawing on his chubby fist. “Grant’s getting big.”
“He’s a handful. He was such a colicky baby.”
Knowing Ellie, that meant he got up once a night. Ellie had never been one to feel she should have to sacrifice. “He’s darling.”
“We think so.”
The sight of her friend’s child reminded India that she and Charlie had been planning to have another baby. They’d initially wanted only one, which was why they’d waited. But about a year ago, India had changed her mind, and Charlie had slowly warmed to the idea...
“How’s Mitchell?” India asked.
“Busy, as always. You know Mitch. He’s as much of a workaholic as Charlie was.”
The mention of Charlie hung so awkwardly in the air that, for a second, India wasn’t sure how to react. She felt like a completely different person than when she’d been married to him. As if the murder had somehow exposed her for the pretender she’d been, white trash living a fairy tale with her heart surgeon husband. As if she’d never had the right to live in this house or be friends with Ellie or the other residents on the block.
She started the car. “Sorry to rush off, Ellie, but we’re heading over to Charlie’s parents’ and don’t want to be too late.”
“You’re taking Rod to meet Charlie’s parents?” she asked in surprise.
Definitely not. Rod had agreed to hang out at an internet café, where he could grab a bite to eat and surf the web during her visit with Cassia. She’d intended to minimize the fact that she was with another man. Ellie couldn’t make a big deal of it if Rod was going to her in-laws’ place with her. “Of course,” India said. “Why not?”
“No reason,” Ellie replied. “Tell them I said hello. It was wonderful to see you.”
“You, too.”
“Call me soon. We’ll do lunch.”
“I will,” India lied and, with a wave, drove off down the street.
She’d driven three blocks before Rod said anything.
“Is that what you want?” he asked at length. “To be like Ellie? To lead the type of life she does? To have what she has?”
She understood what he was asking. He wanted to know if what she dreamed and longed for was something he’d never be able to give her.
She considered the implications. Did she need San Francisco, with all the people and connections it offered? The abundance of art? The culture? The wealth and prestige Charlie had afforded her?
No. She could live a much simpler life and be happy. That wasn’t the problem.
Reaching over, she took his hand. “I wouldn’t mind the baby.”