Gardena for battered women and their children. “I think you'd be surprised.”
“So he gets ‘philandering’ and ‘philanthropy’ confused sometimes. Big deal.”
“Clever you. But I'll tell you something. Lane helped keep that place operating last year. And just for the record, wifey never asked him to contribute a dime.”
“Let's talk about something else.”
“My pleasure.” Caroline finally put down her silverware and faced him. “It's time you stopped stalling anyway. Tell me what's going on.”
He'd already told her that an LAPD detective had been around to visit that morning. She'd heard a similar story from Lane. Andrew decided not to fill her in on what few details remained, at least not for now. He didn't see the point.
“Is it bad?”
“I have no idea what it is, ” he said.
She didn't say anything.
“But until I find out, I want you to do something for me”
“Anything I can. You know that.”
He reached around his back, pulled the Glock from his waistband, placed it on the table, and slid it across. He'd stopped by the bank again on his way to Brent-wood. For the clip this time.
“I want you to keep this somewhere handy.”
Caroline looked at the gun. She looked at Andrew. She raised her eyebrows.
“I don't want to argue about it, Care. You said you took that class at Lane's gun club, right? So you probably know more about how to run one of these than I do.”
“There's nothing to argue about, ” she said. “BecauseI'm not touching that thing. God, what are you thinking, carrying a gun around?”
“Do we really have to make a production out of this?”
“Apparently. Because you obviously know more than you're telling me, and I want to hear it. Right now.”
“I
don't
know more than I'm telling you, ” Andrew said. “That's what bothers me. Something's definitely cooking. If it was going to get bad, my guess is it would have gotten bad already.” He shook his head. “But things aren't adding up. So take the gun until I get it sorted. And if somebody you don't know comes to the door, looking for me …”
“I don't like the sound of this. What did the police want to talk to you about?”
Andrew said nothing. After a beat, he reached out and slid the gun toward her another inch.
“I already told you, ” she said.
He looked her in the eye. “You're the one who convinced me to come out here.”
An opposite coast,
she'd argued.
It's symbolic. Besides. If you really want to start over? Become something new? Sweetie, where else but L.A.? This town reinvents everybody.
“And I'm delighted you did, ” she said. “But if this is your idea of a thank-you gift, let me give you two words for future reference: pearl earrings.”
“Please.” He nodded once toward the Glock. “For me.”
Caroline eyed him across the table for a long time. Eventually, she looked at the gun again. “This would make you feel better.”
“Not better enough. But better than nothing.”
“I'll say it one more time for the record. I don't like this. Not one bit.”
“I know.”
Caroline watched him. She glanced again at the gun. After a minute of silence, the corner of her mouth twitched.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing, ” she said. “I was just imagining the look on Lane's face when he sees me cleaning a handgun when he gets home.”
Andrew grinned back at her. “That's my girl.”
9
BUT he kind of wished he still had the gun when he finally returned to the beach house after dark.
The faint smell of leather was Andrew's first clue that he had company. That, and the light that turned on when he came in.
He hadn't bothered flipping any switches; he'd come straight up from the garage and headed toward the kitchen, making his way by the last of the dusky light still seeping in through the blinds. He was tired. He wanted a beer.
He stopped in his tracks instead, car keys still in hand.
Reading lamp. The one beside Caroline's antique wooden rocker near the dark empty
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