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"What!!?” I stepped inside and slammed the door, pressing my back against it as tears welled up in my eyes.
With an audible sigh of exasperation, I heard him say through the door, "Women will always be a mystery to me.” But he didn't leave the porch. He just stood, waiting. Chase sensed I was still there, a few inches from him, with only a wood plank between us. Finally, he ended our standoff when he muttered, "Meagan, I know you can hear me - please, can I at least call you?"
I sniffed. "Yes! I guess so. Okay, you can call."
I heard heavy footfalls walking away. Then came a deafening thud as Chase slammed the door. The hum of the Escalade's engine echoed in my ears as I threw off my heels and sprinted to one of the windows, only to see the headlights fade until all that remained was darkness. My knees hitched up against my chest, and tears streamed down my face as I slumped onto the floor.
All Chase had to say was — I’m sorry.
Chapter Four
Chase
Shielding my eyes from the dazzling morning sun with my aviator sunglasses, I cautiously studied the Garmin GPS. While practicing on the simulator, what had seemed simple enough was much more complex when actually navigating through San Diego Bay. Correcting my course a bit, I nudged the throttles, and the boat surged forward. Then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a pod of dolphins swimming alongside, keeping up with me as I glided along on the Tit for Tat. The name of my new 45-foot yacht had been passed down from the retired Navy man I bought it from. The name had made me laugh, but the acquisition process was more than a little bizarre.
During the holidays, the guys talked about their favorite toys, and I decided I needed a new one too. Something that would allow me to get away from work and city life. All the drama swirling around the mysterious psycho or perhaps psychopaths caused me to keep the purchase a secret, not wanting to reveal anything until after the deal was closed and security devices were installed on the vessel. Still, Carter and the FBI had not concluded how someone would have known I was in the process of buying a yacht, and the planned closing was for January 6th. A date that had come up in previous encounters with the nutcase. But obviously, the perpetrator had known otherwise. Including in the horrific video of Chelsea's corpse, the cryptic message 'loose lips sink ships' had turned out to be a shot across my bow — for real.
"What the fuck!" With a rueful sigh, I ran my hands through the icy chill of the cooler in disbelief. I had left all the groceries — including the beer — on the dock. "Man, you've got to get your head back in the game..."
Since leaving Meagan's door, I'd gotten little sleep. Every time I reached for my phone, intending to call, I would pull up her number only to be confronted with an overwhelming sense of dread that kept me from following through. This happened at least a half-dozen times. Although Meagan seemed to be the same naughty gal I used to know, and I was eager to start where we had left off, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to her after it was clear she hadn't forgiven me for being un-attentive. "How could she still be so petty about something so stupid?”
The wind almost blew off my cap when I corrected the course again and headed west. As much as I wished the warm sun on my back and the wind in my face would erase my emotional funk, it wasn't happening. Gradually, I sensed a shift in my mindset and realized I had grown up over the past twelve months, albeit I preferred my old persona. It provided me with an excuse to be painfully honest. But I was an executive with my own massive project, so acquiring a few social graces was a plus.
The growing responsibility of my work and the constant uneasiness in my gut from the unsolved mystery had forced me to change, at least a little. As far as Meagan went, I was surprised when Guy told me her therapist had recommended that she not be told about Chelsea's death and of course, the DNA connection between the two women because her emotions were still unsettled.
"Good thing Guy and Ariel had been paying attention at the party,” I mumbled to myself. Otherwise, I would have assumed Meagan knew about Chelsea’s death. "If I had been the one to inform her... no way she would have agreed to a phone call… and forget about her ever speaking to me again."
As my mind's eye replayed our evening together, I began noticing how fragile Meagan had become since the kidnapping that caused her head injury. Just a year ago, she could drink me under the table, dance the night away, and fuck me into oblivion. The last instance was still to be re-tested, but her drinking habits and stamina on the dance floor were not the same.
Slowing the engines, I prepared to drop my line and drift fish. I was heartened and taken aback by the notion percolating at the corners of my mind. "She needs protecting..." But as soon as I tried to convince myself of this, I also remembered how independent and stubborn Meagan used to be. "She must be struggling to come to terms with her inner self and what her future will look like. Meagan needs a purpose, and her grant writing course and Cookie were filling that void — to a point.”
Maybe she also needed to know that someone would always look out for her, although I had no idea how to begin. "What on earth could I do to make her believe me again? What will convince Meagan that she can trust me?"
I watched my line drifting in the tide, formulating the right words to say to Meagan. "Maybe something like this... I know you don't believe me right now, but I want you to know that I still care about you, and nothing has changed between us." I stopped myself. "That sounds damned ridiculous! I'd never say something like that — hemming and hawing around like some girl. And besides, everything had changed between us.” I stood up and reeled in my line. "What am I doing here? I need to face Meagan like a man."
I turned the damned Garmin off. I could still see the California coast and knew my way around the bay without the help of a bloody GPS! Making a U-turn, I bumped up my speed and headed in. As I rounded the bend and entered the no-wake zone, my phone vibrated in my pocket. When I noticed I had an email from Courtney, I frowned. "What the hell!" Courtney never contacted me during off-hours, ever, unless it was urgent.
Courtney wrote: Mr. Stratford, I dropped by the office today to pick up the mail since I didn’t Friday or yesterday. There is a letter for you from Sacramento stamped urgent! I’m catching up on my work, be here a couple of hours. Call if you want me to do something with it. Have a great rest of your weekend.
Not wanting to waste time, I called and discovered the letter included the instructions for us to apply for a grant. I felt my chest constrict as I listened, trying to comprehend what the grant was for. Finally, Courtney summed things up for me, saying, "Mr. Stratford. Rosedale has to apply for a federal grant if we want to get paid for the Golden Key Project."
After I thanked her profusely, I blurted out, "Courtney, I so appreciate your help! I'll buy you a brand-new outfit. Anything you want!”
"Mr. Stratford. That won't be necessary. All you had to do was say thank you!" I was dumbfounded by Courtney's unwavering loyalty and levelheadedness. Her wisdom wasn't lost on me, either.
"Do me a couple more favors, if you don't mind. I'm about to hit a dead spot in the cell coverage, so, email me a PDF of the letter, and call Guy. Tell him what's happening, and I'll meet him at his home ASAP. I'm on my yacht and will be at the dock within the hour." Courtney agreed just before the call failed.
It didn't take long for me to dock at the marina and hop in my Escalade. The sun was setting as I drove up the winding drive of Casa Palacious where the rest of my partner's cars were parked. "Hell, the gang’s all here!"
As I opened the back door, I was ushered to the porch by Amy, holding Jonathan. I instantly realized she had been summoned to lend a hand with the kids when I stepped into the kitchen, where all the wives were busy laughing, cooking, and drinking wine. A delicious aroma filled the air, and smoke billowed from two grills overflowing with succulent steaks. I rapidly scanned the room, my eyes quickly moving from one side to another in search of Meagan. A part of me was immensely relieved, but my heart wasn’t when I discovered she was missing.
"Wow, if we get home-cooked stakes every time I put out an SOS, I'll do it more often."
"Don't be fooled, dude. We were doing this anyway. I tried to call and text you earlier, but nothing went through. So we figured you had gone fishing!" Guy said.
"Well, then. I hate to be the wet blanket, but Houston, we have a problem," I told everyone within earshot.
"Spill the beans," Daniel spoke up.
