CHAPTER EIGHT

Izzy was sad.

He’d pretended not to be as he’d dropped Eden and their giant extended family off at the airport. He’d actually rented a passenger van to do it, because traveling with a baby was a logistical nightmare, requiring almost as much gear as was needed for a seven-man SEAL team.

That gear plus the five traveling humans of varying sizes—Eden, her brother Dan who was also Izzy’s SEAL teammate, Dan’s wife Jenn and their super-baby Colin, plus Eden and Danny’s teenaged brother Ben—wouldn’t fit into an everyday, average vehicle. And the van rental was financially cheaper than hiring a car service, and emotionally cheaper—gods forbid—than waking up at zero-dark-thirty to make two separate airport runs.

Also? Since Izzy had the thing for twenty-four hours, it suddenly occurred to him that he could use it to help Grunge at the low, low price of nearly free. He could pop on up to Palm Springs, and at least start to move all that stuff out of the storage unit and into the officers’ garage.

His plan was to zap Grunge a text—maybe swing past the man’s house and pick up the padlock key—as soon as he got less sad.

I’m sorry you’re not coming, too. Danny had actually said that to Izzy, out loud and clearly enunciated, before he’d followed Jenn and the baby into the airport terminal. And yeah, part of Dan’s sorrow had to do with the fact that a weeklong visit to Jenn’s family back east could be exhausting. But Ben and Eden would be there to help Dan and Jenn—at least they would be when they weren’t off visiting colleges.

Missing that was what made Izzy most sad. He’d wanted to go, too—mostly so he could continue to talk up all the great schools in nearby SoCal.

But one of the biggest problems created by being related through marriage to a teammate was that they couldn’t always take leave at the same time.

And this time, sadly, Izzy had had to stay behind.

This morning, Eden had lingered, holding Izzy close as Dan and Ben humped their luggage into the terminal. She wasn’t fooled by his pretending to not be sad. She’d sweetly kissed him goodbye, and then hugged him again, seductively whispering, “You should stop for pancakes at the Grill on your way home.”

Ah, his woman knew him well.

Blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, an order of scrambled eggs and bacon, and the Grill’s homemade sourdough toast…

Izzy pulled into the Grill’s driveway. It was still early enough that there were plenty of spaces in the lot, so he prepared to get slightly—just slightly—less sad.

“I got an automated phone system. Fiona’s aunt Susan works in a law office here in San Diego,” Shayla said, her cellphone to her ear as Pete followed her out of the high school and back to his truck. She’d already dialed the woman’s work number, even though it was still too early for most offices to be open. “Discount Family Law. They open at nine. I think we should just show up, have a conversation face-to-face. You know, not call first.”

“That’s smart,” Pete agreed. “Although, I’m wondering if I should fly up to Sacramento.”

“You might want to wait until after we hear from Lindsey,” she reminded him. “If she can give us Dingo’s real name, and maybe even his local address—or even Daryl Middleton’s address…While Fiona’s leaving seems to be the likely catalyst to Maddie’s current crisis, I’m not sure what this girl could tell us that we can’t find out by staying local. I mean, yes, if we come up short with info about Dingo and Daryl…”

Pete opened the door for her and as she climbed in, she gave him one of her looks—but this was one he hadn’t seen before. It was less attitude and more, well, vulnerable for lack of a better word. “You don’t have to do that. I’m capable of opening a door for myself.”

“I know,” he said. “I just, um…want to.”

She was still embarrassed about the weirdness that had happened in the office—that was what he was seeing in her eyes. So he caught her arm—nice arms, oh Jesus, he was an idiot—and even though her skin beneath his fingers was almost unbearably soft and smooth, he made himself hold on until she met his gaze again. At which point, he said, “I’m great at a lot of things—” okay, whoa, back it down there, Bozo “—I’m a SEAL, so I’m highly trained and highly skilled, and frankly I’m even more proud of my chops as a BUD/S instructor, but the truth is, I’m a fuckup when it comes to women, Lisa being Exhibit A. I’ve never really had a woman as a friend—” he caught himself again “—one who’s not married or engaged to a teammate, anyway. And you’re really pretty, and you’re funny, and Jesus, you’re smart, and that’s really attractive. And every now and then, I slip and run the pattern—the bar hookup pattern—and stupid things come out of my mouth, or I do something disrespectful, like help you down but then not let go. I just wanted to, well…I apologize. Your friendship means a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

She was sitting there, gazing up at him, and for a moment he just lost himself in the dark brown warmth of her eyes, in the full curve of her lips….

Which was exactly what he was trying not to do. He cleared his throat, and forced himself to take a step back instead of leaning even further in, because yeah, he was doing that, too. Shit.

“Well, I happen to be great at a lot of things, too,” Shayla said. It was possible she was mocking his rocky start, but then she added, “I am, after all, a mother of teenagers, and that training’s pretty intense. Maybe not as physically intense as BUD/S. I was curious so I did a little research on that last night. But Quitting is not an option”—she quoted a well-known SEAL motto—“and The only easy day was yesterday absolutely apply.”

And huh. Last night while Pete had Googled her, she’d also been Googling him. Well, maybe not him per se—unlike her, his work tended to be secret, so he didn’t have a website. But she’d clearly been interested enough to seek more info.

“One of the things I’m very good at is being a friend,” she told him. “So relax. I appreciate that you caught yourself—what did you call it? Running the pattern. Nice arms was good subbing in for whatever your animal-brain was reacting to—I won’t bother guessing—because I do have nice strong arms, thanks.” She held them out and her triceps moved. “Not as strong as yours, but strong enough, and trust me, as a woman, I’ll never turn down a compliment about my strength.”

“Well, good,” he said, except now that he’d said all that, he was oddly discontent. Or maybe that was just his—what did she call it? Animal-brain. His animal-brain was stuck on the image of him Googling her while she Googled him. And his animal-brain was fourteen years old and thought that Googling sounded more like something one did to another person with mouths, hands, and genitals rather than alone with a computer.

“Yeah,” Shayla agreed, “it is good. In fact, it’s great. For someone who claims to be communication challenged, you’re doing really well. So, where to now? What’s next on the Find Maddie to-do list? And please say, Now is when we get coffee.”

Pete laughed as he closed her door and humped it around the front of the truck. “Coffee sounds lifesaving,” he told her as he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine with a roar. “Breakfast sounds even better—if you’ve got the time. When do I need to get you home?”

“I’m yours for the day—really for the entire weekend—if you want me,” Shayla told him. “The boys’ll be at Carter’s, starting tonight, through Sunday. And I thought while we’re waiting—to hear from Lindsey, and for Susan Smith’s office to open—maybe we could work on Chapter Two. You know, to send to Maddie? How Peter Met Lisa.”

Her generosity made Pete’s words catch in his throat. At least he thought that was what made his throat feel tight, but his animal-brain had finally stopped toying with Google and was now replaying her words I’m yours…for the weekend…if you want me.

Pete’s animal-brain said, Woof, but he smacked it down and cleared his throat, and said, “Thank you. So much. That would be unbelievably great.”

“Why are you really here?”

Great-Aunt Hiroko’s words made Dingo look up warily from his eggs and toast, but Maddie didn’t even pause. She just kept shoveling the food into her mouth.

It tasted good, although Dingo had hoped for more interesting spices than mere salt and pepper. In fact, he’d expected a far more Japanese feel to the entire cottage, but not only had they kept their shoes on as they’d gone through a slider into the house, but the living room had a regular sofa and chairs, and the art on the walls was sharp and bright and very modern. The kitchen they were sitting in now was just a normal kitchen. Old-fashioned, for sure, but there wasn’t even so much as a wok in sight. Was that racist? Fack, it was—subtle for sure, but he was guilty of that stupidity. He hated when people looked at him and made idiotic assumptions, and here he’d gone and blithely done the same.

Maddie finally swallowed and started in again with her spiel about the school history project, but the old woman cut her off. “No, why are you really here?”

There was silence for a moment as the question seemed to hang there in the air.

Maddie surprised the crap out of him when she put down her fork and said, “I miss Lisa and I thought…”

Dingo held his breath as Hiroko locked gazes with Maddie. The old woman didn’t speak—she just stared, waiting for the girl to finish her sentence. The only sound was that of a clock ticking from its perch above the door that led into the dining room. Tick, tick, tick.

Maddie’d hunched so far in on herself that her shoulders were nearly up to her ears, and her eyes had actually filled with tears. Dingo wanted to reach for her, to comfort her by taking her hand, but his new rule was No touching the fifteen-year-old. He knew himself well enough not to allow any exceptions. Never, ever.

As he watched, Maddie seemed to shake herself. “But she’s gone, and you’re not her—you’re not even close.” She gave a huge whatever shrug with a massive eye roll that was supposed to telegraph just how little she cared, but Dingo knew better as she added, “Also? I thought maybe you could lend me some money.”

“Ah,” the old woman said as Maddie went back to eating.

“No, wait, she meant it—what she said,” Dingo spoke up. “Yeah, we’re low on funds, but really we’re here because she misses her ma.”

“Dingo, shut up.” Maddie glowered at him.

He spoke over her, leaning across the table toward Hiroko. “And her father just told us the story of how he met Lisa here, that you and him became chums because he stopped to help when you had a flat tire.”

“Dingo!” Now Maddie was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “Just finish your eggs, and we’ll go. She doesn’t want us here—”

“Did you know that? That he met her—Lisa—right here, in your yard?” Dingo asked the old woman, who’d calmly risen to her feet to carry her plate to the sink. “He was taking a rinse in your outdoor shower-thingy, and there she was.”

“I did know, yes.” Hiroko turned to face them and her mouth was tight. “I didn’t approve of their relationship.”

Maddie was intrigued despite her desperate need to look and sound disaffected, so her tone was combative. “Why, because he wasn’t Japanese?”

Hiroko made a raspberry sound. “That may have been Kiyo’s—your great-grandmother’s—thinking, but I couldn’t’ve cared less. I liked the boy.” She looked at Maddie. “Peter was different, and Lisa was, well, she wasn’t good for him.”

Maddie was not in a place where she was willing to hear any negative talk about her mom. She stood up, the chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “Well, screw you! She wasn’t good enough? Look who’s talking. If you’re so freaking perfect, you’d visit Gram in Palm Springs, instead of letting her rot all by herself in that stupid nursing home—”

“I visit her every other month,” Hiroko said curtly. “I have for years—since she hurt her hip. And if you’d listened, you’d know that I didn’t say your mother wasn’t good enough—”

Maddie was already making a disgusted sound. “Lisa and I lived there for nearly a year, so…”

Hiroko widened her eyes as if waiting for her to continue.

“I never saw you visit,” Maddie said.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Hiroko asked.

“Of course she’s not,” Dingo said hastily.

“I’m just saying, all those months, I never saw you, not even once.” Maddie crossed her arms.

“I don’t drive at night. I had to leave early enough to get back to San Diego before dark, because your mother made it very clear that I wasn’t welcome in her home,” Hiroko informed her. She looked from Maddie to Dingo. “How much money do you need?”

“Three hundred dollars’ll do it,” Dingo said because Maddie had finally been silenced.

“That much?” Hiroko said as she took both Maddie’s and Dingo’s plates and brought them to the sink.

“His car is big and stupid.” Maddie finally spoke as Hiroko gestured for them to follow her out into the living room. “The gas mileage is for shit.”

“And where, exactly, are you going?” the elderly woman asked.

There was a series of black-and-white pictures on the wall, Dingo now saw, that were obviously that internment camp where Hiroko had spent a chunk of her childhood. Long rows of barrack-type housing stretched out into the distance.

Maddie saw those photos, too, and now pointed to them. “Well, Manzanar,” she lied. “Of course. We need to see it. I mean, photos are well and good, but, we need to smell it. Feel it. And since it’s four hundred miles there, four hundred back…”

Hiroko’s eyebrows lifted. “And your car gets…three miles to the gallon?”

“We also have access to more primary source materials further north in…Reno,” Maddie lied.

“Reno,” Hiroko repeated as Dingo leaned in to get a closer look at a photo that had to be Hiroko as a child, standing in front of an exquisite garden, barbwire fencing in the background.

“Yes. Reno.” Maddie stood there, looking at her great-aunt as if daring her to call out her lie.

There was silence then, as Hiroko just looked out her living room window, unperturbed.

And sure enough, Maddie cracked first. “She was embarrassed,” she said. “Lisa. We had this really tiny, shitty studio apartment in a really shitty part of Palm Springs, and she was working as a waitress at this total crap bar, and she hated it, and…There was barely enough room for the pullout sofa. I don’t know where you would’ve slept—in the bathtub? And yes, I wish she’d told me, I would’ve cut school to come to see you at the nursing home when you came to visit Great-Grandma. Because I’ve always thought of you as a superhero, and I really, really wanted to meet you again, because I was, like, five, that one time we did meet. And I’m sorry that you hate me now, I am.”

Maddie started to cry, and Dingo did, too, because God. And he broke his rule and took her hand and she held on to him so tightly even as she pulled them toward the sliding door.

“I don’t hate you,” Hiroko said, surprising them both into stopping and turning back. “I didn’t hate Lisa. She was braver than I ever was. I both resented and admired her…and…I just knew she and Peter wouldn’t…fit. That he was too traditional, too…sane for her.” She shook her head. “Neither of them could bear to hear that, so they stayed away from me, which I suppose was just as well, because I couldn’t bear to watch her break his heart. I don’t carry much cash, but I can write you a check.” She paused. “Do you have the ID you need to cash it?”

Her question was aimed more at Dingo than Maddie, and he nodded even as he wiped his eyes.

“Good,” she said curtly. “Wait here, I’ll get my handbag.”