Absolutely, Positively

  I’d called Preston right after I hung up with Aiden last night. “Not yet. I’ll call you as soon as I do.”

  As Dovie walked Preston to the front door, Em looked at me. “Am I crazy?”

  I smiled. “Why do you ask?”

  “For this?” She held up the brochures. “For wanting sunshine, warm sand, and lots of fruity drinks with umbrellas? I wouldn’t be opposed to a muscled, gorgeous cabana boy, either, but I don’t want to be greedy.”

  “Crazy like a fox! It’s a great idea, and with spring break it’s the perfect time to go. I just hate seeing you go alone.”

  She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “It won’t be so bad. It’ll give me some time to sort through my life.” Jumping up, she launched into a hula dance. “Just think, this time tomorrow I’ll be on a beach in Kauai.”

  She hulaed around the breakfast table. “Did you know I wanted to go to Kauai in the first place for the honeymoon, but no. Kauai wasn’t good enough for Joseph. You know what?” she asked, swaying her arms. “I gave in a lot with him. Now I don’t have to. It’s freeing. I’m free. To do what I want. See who I want.”

  I hulaed with her and said softly, “Like Aiden?”

  A smile spread across her face. “Maybe.”

  They’d been tiptoeing around each other, fighting their feelings for months. But now … Now Em was free.

  I swayed my hips. “How long will you be gone? A week?”

  I couldn’t help a tiny stab of envy. A vacation sounded wonderful. An escape from life. Just for a little while. I could easily see Sean and me taking a long walk on a beach, watching the sun set in the Pacific. No missing persons, no one wanted by the FBI. Heaven.

  Except … that vision.

  I winced as pain shot through my stomach. I had to stop thinking about it.

  Em’s arms jerked up and down. She really needed hula lessons. “I’m going to skip classes tomorrow and Friday. That gives me ten days.”

  “I’m jealous.”

  “It is a bit decadent, isn’t it?” She stopped dancing. “There’s a flight at two. I’ll take a train into town.”

  When Em set her mind to something there was no stopping her. “Take my car. You can leave it with Raphael and take the water taxi to Logan. You don’t want to lug your suitcases on the train.”

  She threw her arms around me. “What would I do without you?”

  I hummed a Hawaiian song that came out sounding more like a Swiss yodel. We danced side by side, giggling like we were five years old again and making up dances in my mother’s music room.

  The back door opened and Thoreau bounded in, barking and shaking snow from his fur. Sean stood in the doorway with a dazzling smile, taking in the scene. Em and I kept on hulaing.

  “Em’s going to Hawaii,” I said.

  “I’m jealous,” he said. He looked handsomely rumpled with his bed head. He must have seen the note I left and come straight up to the house.

  “You two should go,” Em said. “You know, when this case is over. You two deserve a vacation. Sun, sand, romance,” she added, batting her eyelashes.

  Oooh, oooh, and oooh la la.

  “What? Who’s going where?” Dovie asked, joining in the hula. Her moves put Em’s and mine to shame.

  “Lucy and Sean. To Hawaii,” Em said.

  “No, no. Just dreaming,” I said.

  Dovie jabbed my rib cage playfully and winked. “Sometimes, LucyD, dreams really come true.”

  I glanced at Sean.

  I love you, Lucy Valentine.

  “I know,” I said to Dovie. “I know.”

  15

  Sean had stolen Dovie’s newspaper and had it spread out on my couch. He leaned back, stretched his arms over his head. His gray eyes looked nearly opaque in the morning light. Stubble covered his superhero jaw, and the slightest hint of darkness caressed the skin under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, and it showed.

  I’d taken a quick shower and was letting my hair air-dry today, using extra antifrizz cream to control the waviness. Sean had already put away the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned the coffeepot.

  “Do you feel okay?” he asked.

  I didn’t want to lie. “So-so.”

  He came into the kitchen. “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Neither have you.”

  “This isn’t about me.” With the pad of his thumb, he traced my jawline. I pressed my cheek into his palm, let my eyes close.

  He leaned in, rested his forehead against mine. His hands slid down my arms, stopping just above my hands. I turned my palms over so they hovered just under his touch.

  My fingers tingled with the electricity.

  I couldn’t explain the how or the why. I could just feel. The electricity. The magic.

  He kissed me. A soul-searching, heart-pounding, all-out curl-a-girl’s-toes kind of kiss.

  By the time we pulled apart, a small drumbeat of happiness was pulsing through me. I took a deep breath. It was now or never, a complete leap of faith. “Move in with me.”

  There! I’d said it. And it hadn’t been all that hard, either. Maybe Mum and Dovie, Suz and Preston were right. It was meant to be.

  Only … Only Sean wasn’t looking as happy as I thought he should.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he finally said.

  I quickly grabbed a sponge and began wiping down the counters, scrubbing at invisible spots. Throwing the sponge in the sink, I turned on him. “Why isn’t it a good idea? You practically live here anyway. You have clothes here, a toothbrush, deodorant, your own shampoo, your favorite beer in the fridge, your own side of the bed, and books on the nightstand. Thoreau has food in the pantry, his own food bowls, and a doggy bed. Hell, you already live here—there’s no ‘practically’ about it.”

  At the sound of his name, Thoreau lifted his head from his sunny spot on the floor and stared at us as if annoyed for waking him from his nap.

  Sean smiled at me.

  “Don’t you dare smile at me right now.” I jabbed him with a fingertip.

  Trying to be serious, he pressed his lips together.

  I folded my arms. “I don’t think this is funny.”

  A strangled I-can’t-hold-it-in-any-longer laugh escaped him.

  I picked up the sponge, eyed him, and squeezed it over his head.

  Water dripped down his face. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is. Smile at me, will you.”

  He turned the water on in the sink. Picked up the sprayer.

  “You wouldn’t,” I dared.

  He tipped his soggy head to the side, his black hair curling at the tips, and sprayed me, a quick, freezing-cold blast. Water dripped down my nose, off my chin. My shirt was immediately soaked through.

  Grendel watched us from the top of the fridge, his tail swishing back and forth as if we were great entertainment.

  I grabbed for the sprayer, using hips and elbows to my advantage, and all the while water rained down on us as though we were caught in a spring shower.

  Amused no longer, Grendel rreowed and made a run for it.

  Sean held on tight, his laughter mixing with mine.

  I lost my footing on the slippery floor and made a grab for his shirt. He caught my wrist, but I still fell onto my backside, my legs splaying out, taking his out from under him. He grabbed onto the counter to help break his fall, but the wood floor was too slippery and he fell backward, landing next to me.

  With goofy smiles, we lay there, staring at each other a long time, our chests heaving with exertion, the water running in the sink a backdrop to our heavy breathing.

  Finally, I said, “You pissed off my cat.”

  Sean rolled slightly and kissed me. My body sizzled at his touch, the water droplets evaporating. He rose up on his elbows, cupped my face, kissed my cheeks, my nose. “I can’t move in yet because you’re not ready.”

  “How can you say that? I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t ready.”

&
nbsp; “You were caught up in the moment.”

  “Was not.”

  He smiled, that damn dimple popping. “Were, too. You’re ready here,” he said, pressing his hand to my heart. “But not here.” He tapped the top of my head. “Because you haven’t quite realized it yet.”

  “Realized what?” A drop of water dripped off his chin onto my neck. I felt it sliding downward, tickling its way to my nape.

  “That I’d never willingly leave you.” He levered off the ground. Reaching out, he grabbed my wrist and helped me to my feet. “When you realize that, I’ll gladly move in.”

  I stared at him. “It’s like you’re talking in riddles.”

  We did have something special between us. Something that went beyond simple attraction. Something no other Valentine ever had. But was it enough?

  He pulled out a roll of paper towels. “You forget. I can feel it, Lucy. And I still feel the fear. Until it’s gone…”

  I grabbed a dish towel, soaked up some water. I had forgotten. Forgotten he could feel my emotions when he touched my palm. Only he didn’t realize the fear I was currently feeling wasn’t from commitment—it came from seeing him lifeless. And I had no idea how I’d ever get rid of the fear that his life would be cut short due to his bad heart.

  “You’re lucky I’m a patient guy.”

  “You’re lucky I don’t kick you and your toothbrush out.”

  He smirked. “You’d never.”

  My cell phone rang the Hawaii Five-O theme. I was smiling as I answered—it didn’t last.

  “Mac Gladstone has liver cancer,” Aiden said. “The doctor gave him three to five years to live if he started treatment right away.”

  Limply I leaned against the counter. “When did Mac find out?”

  “End of summer.”

  “He didn’t start treatment, did he?”

  “No,” Aiden said. “He has maybe a year, tops.”

  Sean continued to wipe down the kitchen, but he was watching me carefully.

  “What does this mean for the investigation?” I asked.

  I heard the fatigue in Aiden’s voice: “The hell if I know.”

  “We’re going back to Jemima’s today. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  Sean and I often worked together on cases for the state police—especially when my visions were involved. This was the first time Aiden was working with us on one of Sean’s cases and it felt a little awkward. “Thanks for checking with the doctor.”

  Sean and I never would have been able to get that kind of information. The state police had a lot more pull—including the ability to get warrants—than we did.

  “By the way, the car that hit Spero was found around the corner from the hotel last night. It had been stolen from a nearby neighborhood. It’s being processed.”

  “Any word on Tristan Rourke’s whereabouts?”

  “No.”

  “How sure are the police that Tristan is the one who ran down Spero?” I was holding out hope it had all been a mistake, some sort of coincidence.

  “One hundred percent, Lucy.”

  “The surveillance tapes were conclusive?”

  “Not at all. They were too grainy to see anything. Completely useless. But they don’t matter when there’s an eyewitness.”

  “A witness?”

  “Yeah. Saw the whole thing go down and made a positive ID.”

  A positive ID? On Tristan Rourke? That could only mean one thing. It had to have been someone who knew him. “Who was it?” I asked. “The witness?”

  I heard some rustling of papers. “The guy’s wife. Mary Ellen Spero.”

  16

  A half hour later, Grendel was still mad about getting wet. He liked a bath almost as much as he liked Rufus—and Grendel’s impromptu shower in the kitchen had him skulking around the cottage in search of things to destroy. I already twice had to stop him from climbing the drapes. I brought out my best kitty placater—a can of tuna.

  As soon as Grendel heard the pop top, all was forgiven as he rushed over and twined his body around my legs, doing feline figure eights as I spooned the tuna into his bowl.

  The pipes knocked in the wall as Sean finished up his shower. I was trying to work through what he’d said, but I simply didn’t understand. Yes, I was scared—who wouldn’t be in my situation? But I was willing to take a leap of faith and didn’t understand why Sean wasn’t yet. It was giving me a headache, trying to sort it out.

  My cell rang as I was reaching for the Advil bottle. “This is Lucy,” I answered, the phone pressed to my ear as I shook two tablets into my palm. My stomach was also still hurting, but I was trying to ignore the pain.

  “Hi, Lucy, it’s Christa Hayes.”

  I checked the clock. It was a little after nine. “Are you feeling all right? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Late start today. I was wondering if I could come by and see Rufus after school today. I saw the article in the paper this morning. I miss him.”

  “I’m really sorry, Christa, but he’s at the vet’s.”

  Her voice rose. “He is? Why?”

  “Just for a checkup. He’s not eating very well. Is there a special kind of food he likes?”

  “I told my mom he needed his food.… I can bring it over after school today.”

  “Actually, Sean and I were coming over to see your parents this morning. I can pick it up then.”

  “You’re coming soon?”

  “About half an hour. Is that all right?”

  She coughed. “I mean, yeah. That’s fine. Just, ah…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s fine. Thanks. I won’t be there—classes are starting soon—but I’ll have Esme leave it out for you.”

  “Esme?”

  “The housekeeper.”

  “Okay. Rufus should be back tonight if you want to stop by then.”

  “I have play practice tonight, but maybe tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I said, imagining that it was hard for her to lose not only her grandfather but her dog as well.

  I’d just hung up with her when my phone rang while still in my hand. I glanced at the readout, cringed.

  “It’s Meaghan,” she said as I answered.

  Her tone had lost some of its joy. She must have heard the news about Tristan. “I’m glad you called.” I downed the Advil with a gulp of water.

  “Did you hear the news about Tristan?” she asked.

  Grendel was hissing at Thoreau, a warning to stay away from his tuna, as I walked into the bedroom. I wanted to get some laundry started before Sean and I left to meet with Jemima. I stripped the sheets from the bed, dropped them onto the floor.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” I tossed a fitted sheet over the mattress as the water turned off in the bathroom.

  “The police think it was Tristan who ran him over,” she said. “It’s just not possible. Tristan isn’t the violent type, Lucy; he just isn’t.”

  “Meaghan, did you know Anthony Spero told Tristan you were dead and that it was Tristan’s fault you took your own life? It’s what led to the attack eight years ago.”

  “He didn’t!” she cried in a quivery voice. “He wouldn’t. That’s so … so cruel. Beyond cruel.”

  I couldn’t agree more, but it didn’t change the fact that Tristan now had a very big motive for killing Anthony. I gave up on getting the corners of the fitted sheet to cooperate one-handed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I said, “Tristan just found out last night you were alive. That kind of shock might have led to what happened to Spero.”

  “He thought I was dead all these years? How do you know all this?”

  I figured it couldn’t hurt at this point to let her know. “Sean and I spoke with Tristan last night.”

  “You did? When? How’s he seem? How does he look? Did he say anything about me?”

  And just like that, I could picture Meaghan in high school. “He was angry, Meaghan. Anthony had lied to him. Not a little white lie, either.”

&n
bsp; “Did he want to meet me?”

  I sighed. This was what I was afraid of. “On his own terms.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “He wanted to us to hand over your information to him so he could contact you on his own.”

  “Did you?” There was an edge of panic in her voice, and I realized it had nothing to do with Tristan being a criminal and everything to do with her thinking she might never see him again.

  “No, I needed to check with you first. You’re forgetting he’s a wanted man, Meaghan.”

  “I don’t believe it. I just don’t. It’s not in Tristan’s nature.”

  Mary Ellen Spero might disagree. “I hate to be blunt, Meaghan, but denial can be dangerous.”

  Sean stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. I lost my train of thought for a moment as my gaze skimmed his muscled shoulders, chest, stomach. His scar, a thin red line, marred the skin near his left shoulder. If only it was as easy as kissing and making it better.… He’d be the healthiest guy around.

  Sean raised a questioning eyebrow at the phone.

  Meaghan, I mouthed.

  “What if he’s not involved?” she was saying. “What if this was some colossal coincidence?”

  “There’s an eyewitness.”

  “Eyewitnesses can be wrong.”

  She was sounding desperate, and as I knew her history, it worried me. This news might send her over the edge again. “Nevertheless, as my client, I’m worried about you.”

  “You have no reason to be. I’m fine. And I want you to give Tristan my information.”

  Sean pressed a kiss to my neck as he crossed the room. He slipped on a pair of black trousers and took the floppy corner of the fitted sheet, pulling it over the edge. “I’ll do this,” he whispered, grabbing the top sheet.

  “It’s not that easy anymore, Meaghan.” I scooted off the bed.

  “Why not?”

  Grabbing the pile of bedding from the floor, I headed to the door. “There’s no way to contact him. He said he’d be in touch with us, which isn’t likely to happen now that he’s a wanted man. Besides, that sort of thing might be considered aiding and abetting.”

  “Are you dropping my case?” she asked.

  In light of the new charges against Tristan, I really had no other choice. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish it had turned out differently.”