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“I didn’t.”
“What are you telling me? You make no sense.”
He walked to the French doors and gazed out at the lawn and the potted citrus and bottlebrush trees on the terrace and the roll of the mountains in the distance. “When I first saw you at the art theater, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. What happened to us, Felicity?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “People don’t change. They grow into what they always were.”
AT SIX THAT evening, Clete came up to Albert’s house and knocked on the front door with the flat of his fist. Albert got up from the dining table and opened the door. “Is this a raid?” he asked.
Clete’s face was flushed, as though he had been out in the sun or drinking all afternoon. “Where’s Dave?”
“Eating,” Albert replied.
“Can I come in?”
“You’re not going to start a fistfight, are you?” Albert said.
“What are you talking about?” Clete said.
“You look like somebody put a burr under your blanket,” Albert said. “You want a plate?”
“Felicity doesn’t pick up her phone,” Clete said to me, ignoring Albert. “I think Surrette has her.”
Molly and Alafair had stopped eating. “Clete, I don’t want to hear about that woman,” Molly said.
“You want to take a ride?” Clete said, his eyes on me.
“Where?” I said.
“To Love Younger’s,” Clete said.
“No, he doesn’t,” Molly said. “I mean it, Clete. Don’t bring that woman’s troubles into our lives.”
“Five minutes ago this was my home,” Albert said. “Do you people carry a fight with you every place you go?”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. I walked out into the yard with Clete. The sun had dipped behind the ridge, and in the shadows, I could feel the temperature dropping, the dampness rising from the grass and flower beds. “I know you’re worried, but think about what you just said,” I told him. “Felicity Louviere is a
n intelligent woman. She’s not going to deliberately put herself in the hands of a depraved man.”
“You don’t know her,” he said. “Maybe she wants to suffer. Maybe she wants to cancel his ticket. But she always leaves her cell phone on for me. Now I go directly to voice mail.”
“Then let her live with her own choices.”
“That’s a chickenshit thing to say.”
“I meant let her pop him if she can. What she may be doing is not any crazier than what Gretchen has been doing.”
“You want to nail Surrette or not?”
“He tried to kill Alafair, Clete. What do you think?”
“You’re not hearing me. My point is, we’re smarter than this guy. Money is involved, but it’s not the issue. It’s personal, and it’s coming out of the Younger family. It also involves Wyatt Dixon. And I’ve got another suspicion.”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s off-the-wall.”
“Say it.”
