“What’s going on, Vivi?” Ben resettled on the kitchen stool across from her; his forehead wrinkled, the dark eyes intent on hers.
She swallowed. No one could be more loyal, more protective, than Ben. He loved her completely. “Winn, my yoga teacher, is offering a retreat. I want to go.”
Ben sucked in a breath. Then his body relaxed as though relieved that was all. “When is the retreat?”
“In one week.”
“That’s impossible.” He waved his hand toward the hole in the door. “What about this? What about the trial?” He stood and paced.
“The ADA assured us a trial was unlikely, that a plea deal was being worked out.”
“A police buddy from the gym told me guys like Dwayne don’t take plea deals. They go for the trial.”
“The retreat is in Sayulita.”
“Mexico! You think you’re going to Mexico? In one week? You can’t even get a ticket now.”
“We’ll see.” She walked toward the office.
Ben bustled in front of her. “I’m so much better at figuring out travel stuff.”
He was. He had bookmarks for airline and travel sites and within minutes found a flight to Puerto Vallarta.
Outside, a hummingbird glinted through a slice of light in the cloudy dusk. It lit on its branch. She leaned over Ben, nuzzling the side of his face. After a moment of silence, she said, “The universe is saying I ought to go.”
“You’re a key witness, Vivi.”
She snapped straight, hands flying out. “So, my life is supposed to revolve around a trial that we don’t even know is going to happen?”
Ben’s face flushed. “This trip is more important to you than getting the shithead who tried to kill me?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, weary to the core. These last few months had been too much—unexpected retirement, her mother’s death, two burglaries. When she opened her eyes, the hummingbird took flight. Its little heart pounded over a thousand times a minute so he could flit about in constant search of fuel. People admired his grace, but it required an endless, circular, supreme effort. Nothing was easy.
“I’ll call Cheryl,” she said, “and tell her that if there’s going to be a trial, I won’t be available that week. I got the impression the court constantly rearranges its calendar based on people’s schedules.”
Ben looked back at the screen. “This fare is not nothing. And how much is the retreat?”
“I have a secret stash of money—five hundred forty-three dollars and forty-seven cents—that I want to get rid of.”
She backed up a bit as Ben swung around in the chair. “A secret stash?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we go for our walk.” When we’re both moving in the same direction.
“I don’t have any secrets from you.”
“This goes way back to before I met you.” And it stretched back, even farther than the rape, to her childhood, when to ward off the feeling of being left out by her father and brothers, she’d constructed the myth she didn’t care if she was included. She’d excluded them right back, held her secret close, her own little pearl.
Ben was clicking on a computer page to book the flight. A wave of tenderness flooded her. If she only managed to ask for something, Ben might grouse, but in the end, he supported her. But she’d been brought up in a family with nothing to give and had developed a habit of not asking.
Ben looked up from the online form. “When’s your birthday?” he asked, teasing.
She ruffled his dark curls.
“I don’t want you to go to this retreat, but if you have to….” Ben lifted a sad-clown face toward her.
“Maybe you should take a trip, too.”
He shook his head. “Someone has to hold down the fort.”
“We could have the alarm system by then.”
“Where would I go?”
“Santa Barbara?”
“That would be too much for Art,” he said. “And his wife.”
“You wouldn’t have to stay with them. Treat yourself to a nice hotel. Eat at a fine restaurant,” she said, meaning the one Art managed.
He didn’t dismiss the idea outright, a hopeful sign.
“I need to start smaller,” he said. “Maybe FaceTime?”
“That’s a great idea.”
The shrill of the telephone made her heart jump. She snatched up the phone. Assistant District Attorney Cheryl Smith, calling on a Saturday. Vivi didn’t want the Ganesha energy of another obstacle. Why was the damned elephant deity so popular, anyway?
“Did you hear we were burglarized again?” she asked, guessing at the ADA’s motive for calling.
“Are you and Ben okay?” Cheryl sounded surprised.
“Yes. Fine. They arrested the person—the girl on the bike I saw at our first burglary. Jessika Fitzgerald.”
“Interestinger and interestinger.”
Cheryl had obviously called about another matter. Vivi hazarded another guess. “Did you reach a deal?” Ben pressed near so he could hear.
“We were very close, but all that is up in the air now with our latest developments.”
“What happened with the plea deal?”
“Don’t worry about that. This is better news.”
Ben reached for the handset, but she held on to it. “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“Good,” Cheryl said. “First, remember that drink cup the officer found near the Carmona burglary? On the retaining wall?”
“Tell me they got DNA results,” Ben said.
“Yup.” The lawyer sounded gleeful. “A known local. Ricardo Ballesteros. Goes by Rico.”
“So maybe he’ll flip?” Ben asked.
“Or maybe his arrest will incentivize Dwayne. But there’s more.” Cheryl’s voice pitched toward the exuberance of an infomercial. “We have a lead on the gun.”
“You found it?” Ben asked.
“Maybe.” The guarded answer danced a victory lap. “There was a shooting today. A gun was retrieved from the scene. Its serial number matched that of a handgun taken in a burglary several months ago. Owner one Eileen Fitzgerald.”
“Dwayne was the burglar?” Ben asked.
“Fitzgerald? Same as the girl Jessika?” Vivi’s mind raced.
“The address of that burglary was off Scenic Drive—Dwayne’s bus route.” Smug satisfaction honeyed the attorney’s voice.
“But the shooting?” Vivi prompted. “How did the gun end up there?”
“The brother of the kid involved in the shooting said he found it.”
“A kid?” Her heart felt like a hunk of lead. “The shooting involved a kid?”
The lawyer didn’t seem to hear. “Deputy Hashimoto reported that the brother of the shooter and his friend say they got it out of a dumpster. Guess where?”
An ocean swell, a whoosh, filled Vivi. A child. A gun. A shooting.