Yeah, I’d fire. Dead accurate. In a heartbeat. I couldn’t save my wife, but I can help here.
He began creeping through the sodden fronds.
Another sound. Pause. Another. Where—?
Something hit him. Hard. A tall, slender body, ramming him full force, knocking him onto his back. The air went out of his lungs, but he held onto the gun with all his strength.
He tried to yell, but what came out was a grunt. Then his attacker was on him, hands gripping his throat. He couldn’t move the gun, which was pinned between their struggling bodies.
The hands tightened, choking him.
In reflex he pulled the trigger.
The man’s body jerked convulsively. The hands relaxed on his throat. Then they were gone and the weight lifted away from him. He raised his head, struggled to rise. Bernhard Ulrick was scrabbling upslope on all fours. Guy rolled onto his stomach, gripped the gun with both hands, and fired after him. The shot went wild, but Ulrick reversed direction and began limping toward the sea.
“Stop right there, Ulrick!” Rhoda’s voice, from not far above. “Sheriff’s department. You’re under arrest.”
Ulrick seemed to hesitate, as if surprised to hear his rightful name, then kept going.
A shotgun blasted.
Ulrick staggered and went down. Dead hit.
Guy buried his face in the mud and sobbed with relief.
It seemed like a long time but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Rhoda’s hand touched the back of his wet head. The hand was unsteady, the voice more so, when she said, “Fucked up again, Newberry.”
She got him into a sitting position, cradled his body against hers. He pressed close, wished he could stop crying, and after a while realized she was crying too.
“Hey.” He raised his head and touched her cheek. “Hey, don’t.”
“I almost lost it,” she said. “I’ve never had to kill anybody before.”
“One thing my father taught me—”
“I know. The first thing my father taught me about guns: They’ve got only one purpose. If you have to shoot, shoot to kill.” She drew a deep, fluttering breath. “And that’s what I did. I blew the bastard’s head off.”
Sunday, October 15
Rho was sitting on her front porch in a patch of morning sunlight when Guy came to say goodbye. She watched as he walked toward her, his silvery hair gleaming, and thought of the first time she’d seen him. Even in her agitation about nearly running him down, she’d thought him a handsome man. Now she knew there was much more to him than good looks.
He smiled as he sat down beside her. “You seem rested. Still no nightmares?”
“Nope. That’s all over now. What time does your plane leave San Francisco?”
“Six this evening.”
They sat quietly for a moment. Cody came out of the underbrush, trailing twigs and leaves as usual. He nosed Guy’s hand and Rho smiled when she saw him hesitate before rubbing his ears.
You probably could get fond of the dog, she thought, then put the notion aside.
She said, “Grossman and Shepherd are leaving today too. Ned’s going to put my name up for promotion to detective. They need somebody to direct investigations in the coastal area.”
“Congratulations! You’ve earned it.”
“I don’t know about that, but the pay increase would help keep old Cody in dog food.” Still, she felt a warm glow of pride.
“I take it Grossman’s given up on searching for the money?”
“Now that he’s had Ulrick’s cabin and its surroundings torn apart, he has. Becca couldn’t tell him anything; she had no idea the money existed, much less that Ulrick had been searching for it.”
Guy grimaced. “Thank God she was still at home packing when he went to retrieve it. She’s having a hard enough time dealing with who and what her boyfriend was, without having been there when he died.”
“She’s having a hard time, but Kevin Jacoby and Brandon Fuller are giving her lots of TLC. She’ll be okay.”
“You know, I still don’t understand why Grossman didn’t catch on about why Ulrick went to Point Deception that night.”
She smiled slyly. “Well, I sort of let him think Ulrick skidded into the turnout and fled as I was giving chase.”
“You what—? Why?”
“If I’d’ve told, the department wouldn’ve dug up the bluff looking for the money. And then we’d’ve had the media back, with all the attendant problems. That money’s caused enough tragedy and grief.”
“I agree. The Harrisons don’t need it, and if you asked them, they’d probably say they don’t want it. Let it lie.”
A strong, crisp wind rustled through the trees. To Rho’s amusement, both Cody and Guy keened the air.
He said, “You know, a man could get a lot of writing done on the Soledad Coast.”
She cautioned herself against rising to the bait, said lightly, “He could.”
“Especially if his local deputy — pardon me, detective — were driving by to check up on him.”
“Especially.”
“If I had a second home here, I’d buy and hire locally.”
“I’d see to it that you did.”
He smiled at her, fine lines around his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s a thought.”
“And a good one.”
“I’ll hold on to it.” He stood, pulled her to her feet. “Got to go now.” He leaned toward her, touched his lips to hers. At first the kiss was light, casual; then they both moved closer, and it deepened. When they finally parted, she had to lean on the porch pillar to steady herself.
“It is a thought,” he said softly, and moved toward his car.
She remained where she was, shading her eyes from the sun glare as she watched him drive away.
“He’ll be back,” she told Cody. “No question about that.”
Guy didn’t get his erratic emotions under control until he reached Point Deception. A few more seconds in Rhoda’s arms and he would’ve been a goner. As it was...
He stopped the car just off the pavement and stepped out. The day was clear and brilliantly blue, with not a trace of fog on the horizon. Even the skeletal trees couldn’t detract from its loveliness, and the bright green secondary growth beneath them gave promise. The plumes of pampas grass danced in the wind. Except for the crime-scene tape that fluttered along the fence-line, you’d never have guessed what violence had taken place here.
After a few minutes he got back in the car and continued south, traveling at high speed, taking pleasure in maneuvering the curves. Thinking of New York, his loft, the great book he’d write there. The true-life adventures of Guy Newberry were sure to make the bestseller lists—
You damn fool man.
“So you’re back. Why’d you call me that?”
Because you’re as much of a horse’s ass as ever, and you’re leaving the best thing that’s happened to you since me.
“Who said I’m leaving forever?”
Aren’t you?
“I most certainly am not.”
Good. You need that woman. And you don’t need me any longer.
Softly he whispered, “Good-bye, Diana.”
June 19, 2002
The county-owned bulldozer rumbles across Point Deception on another foray in the ongoing struggle to eradicate the tenacious pampas grass. Belching fumes into the previously clean air, it tears away at the land and sends moles scurrying from their burrows. The operator scowls at a particularly large and stubborn clump, then scoops it up. The machine lumbers toward the cliff and dumps its load into Lantern Cove.