The Truth Page 16

  He vowed not to let Quinn distract him any longer, but after two hours of staring at his screen, crafting absolutely nothing, he accepted the fact that she was all he was thinking about, and went to bed.

  Tomorrow would be different, though. From the moment he set foot on the plane, his head would be back in the game.

  “Shitty way to spend a long holiday weekend. How are you otherwise, Eighty-eight?” Razor asked when Mercer walked into the house in Harmony.

  “Shitty is as good a word as ever.” He momentarily held his breath, praying Razor wouldn’t say anything about Quinn. He wasn’t in the mood, and doubted he could contain his temper if his partner started in on him.

  “I wish I knew what the fuck he’s up to,” Razor muttered instead.

  Mercer looked over Razor’s shoulder and studied the tracking report of Calder’s whereabouts twenty-four hours a day.

  “Who’s that?” Mercer asked, pointing to a name on the screen.

  “Name’s Vatos. Lengthy arrest record but mostly piddly shit. Drugs, theft, that kind of stuff.”

  “What’s Calder doing, meeting with him?”

  Razor shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Who’s on him?”

  “Nobody. Think we should assign somebody?”

  “Immediately.”

  Mercer had a bad feeling, but the worst part of it was he didn’t know whether his gut was reacting to the mission or to Quinn, and it pissed him the hell off.

  “Deveux is on his way here,” reported Paps. “Hey, Eighty-eight, got a minute?”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered and followed his partner into the other room. “Before you say anything, I’m sorry about my attitude last night. I was out of line.”

  Paps leveled his gaze at Mercer. “I’m going to say this one time, so you better listen.”

  He nodded.

  “You wanna know why Calder was able to get to Barbie? Because Doc had his head so far up her ass that he lost perspective. He lost his fucking focus. Don’t let history repeat itself, Eighty-eight. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mercer said again.

  “Enough of this shit,” he barked on his way out.

  Fuck. Paps was absolutely right, and Mercer didn’t know what the hell to do about it. He knew he had to get it together, but his brain refused to cooperate.

  As usual, Mercer got very little sleep. Calder’s association with Vatos weighed heavily on his mind, but not as much as the things Paps had said to him.

  He rose with the sun and met Razor in the house’s small kitchen.

  “I need help,” he admitted.

  Razor turned around and looked directly at him. “What can I do?”

  “Take over Skipper’s detail. I’m done.”

  Razor nodded and offered him a cup of coffee. “It’s only temporary, Eighty-eight,” he said, but Mercer disagreed.

  He walked out on the back deck, where the sunrise in the east enveloped the hills in pink and orange. Paps was right; these hills were beautiful. He was also right about him when it came to Quinn. He’d lost his focus and that was unacceptable.

  “Uh, oh,” he heard Razor say from the kitchen.

  “What now?” he asked, going back inside.

  “Skipper’s on the move.”

  Fuck. Mercer looked over his shoulder again. “Where to?”

  “Here.”

  Jesus. Why? What the hell was she up to now? So much for getting his focus back.

  13

  There was no way Quinn would sit around all weekend feeling sorry for herself because Mercer was gone. Two could play his game. He couldn’t tell her where he was? No problem. She didn’t need to tell him where she was either.

  It had been far too long since she’d been to the place she considered home, even though she’d only visited but never really lived there. Paso Robles was her grandfather’s home, and in the last few years, it had been her mother’s home too.

  For the first time in her life, Quinn was determined to make a connection with the only two people left in her family, whether they wanted it or not. Her only problem was, she didn’t know where either of them were.

  Maybe she’d find clues at her grandfather’s house, and then travel to wherever one or both of them were.

  The first flight tomorrow to the West Coast left at six in the morning, and she planned to be on it.

  When she landed at the airport in San Luis Obispo, the first person she thought about was Mercer. She’d thought about him on her way to LaGuardia, and for the entirety of the plane ride too, but this time it was different. As she stood at the rental car counter, about to rent her very first car, she was grateful that he’d taught her to drive and even took her to get her driver’s license. She couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, all by herself, and go wherever, whenever, she wanted.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but we don’t rent to drivers under twenty-five,” the agent said.

  “What? I don’t understand. I have my license.”

  “Yes, but due to liability issues, that’s our policy.”

  “There are other car rental agencies; I’m sure another wouldn’t have such an absurd policy,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

  “No, miss. We all have the same policy.”

  “Quinn?” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She picked up her license and credit card, and turned around.

  “Mr. Sharp, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m traveling on business. You?”

  “Um…taking one last vacation before I start my new job.”

  He smiled and then looked at the car rental agent. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’m only twenty-one,” Quinn answered.

  “I see. Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he led her out of the airport terminal.

  “To the parking structure.”

  “Why?”

  Mr. Sharp laughed. “I hired you because of your inquisitive nature, Quinn. I’m glad to see you haven’t lost it.”

  She felt her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I told you I like it.”

  He handed her a set of keys and stopped by a parked car. “Hit the button for the trunk,” he said, and when she did, he lifted her bag and put it inside, and then closed it.

  “What about your bag?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t put it in the trunk.

  “I’m going out of town. You can use my car while I’m away.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I mean, thank you, but—”

  “The way I see it is, you don’t have much choice.” He smiled. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  “Do you live here, Mr. Sharp?” she asked, realizing he’d said he was traveling.

  “I do, and please call me Tabon. I have a house on the beach, about an hour north of here. Where are you headed?”

  “Paso Robles. My…um…family lives there.”

  “How nice. I bet they’re anxious to see you.”

  Quinn’s heart sank. If only.

  “Did I say the wrong thing?”

  Why was everyone so observant? “They aren’t exactly expecting me.”

  “I see.”

  “You do?” Damn if Mr. Sharp didn’t remind her of Mercer. It was as though he could read her mind.

  “I’ve had my own share of…how do I say this…family issues,” he said.

  Quinn nodded. She wouldn’t call her situation having issues, but she understood what he was saying.

  “Tell you what. See that key?” He pointed to the only other one on the key fob. “If things don’t go as expected, you can stay at my place.”

  “Seriously?” Quinn was stunned. “I can’t. That’s so kind, and incredibly generous, but, really, I can’t.”

  “It’s up to you. It’ll be empty for several weeks, since I have a new employee starting in a few days, I’ll be spending more time on the East Coast.” He winked. “No pressure. If you find yourself in need of a place to stay, it�
��s all yours.”

  “Thank you. Um, where is it?”

  Mr. Sharp—Tabon—laughed. “An address would help, wouldn’t it?” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and a card out of his wallet, and jotted the address on the back. “All set?” he asked.

  Quinn nodded. “Thank you again, so much.”

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy your time here, and Quinn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  Mr. Sharp walked away, leaving her slightly stunned. It was just an expression, right?

  It took her several tries to back the car out of the parking space, and then she got lost trying to find the exit in the parking structure, and then the highway, but now that she was on her way, she’d never felt more free.

  She pulled up the directions to Paso Robles on the car’s navigation system and turned the volume up on the satellite radio, enjoying her future boss’s choice of jazz.

  Maybe when she arrived, her grandfather would be home, and she wouldn’t need to stay at Mr. Sharp’s house after all.

  “Can I help you?” asked an older man when she parked just inside the gate.

  “I’m looking for my grandfather, John Hess.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Your grandfather isn’t here, young lady.”

  “Oh, um, do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “He no longer owns this property. My sons do.”

  Quinn’s eyes immediately, and unexpectedly, filled with tears. Not only were he and her mother not here, they’d also sold it. “I see…it’s been so long,” she muttered as she wiped her tears away. “My name is Quinn, by the way. Please excuse my bad manners.”

  “It’s quite all right, and I’m Laird Butler.”

  Quinn extended her hand, and they shook. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Butler.”

  “Please, call me Laird, and it’s nice to meet you as well.”

  Quinn looked around, unsure what to do next.

  “Would you like to look around?” he offered.

  “I would, thank you. Your sons wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. In fact, they’ve just recently taken possession of the property, so at the moment, they aren’t here.”

  “I won’t be long…”

  “Take all the time you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Butler, I mean, Laird. I do that a lot…I’ll just…um…take a walk,” she stammered.

  Laird smiled in a way that reminded her of her grandfather, even though it had been years since she’d seen him.

  “Enjoy your day,” he said and walked away, down a path that led through the woods.

  Quinn walked back to the car, opened the trunk, and dug sunscreen out of her bag. It was so hot here; it had to be over one hundred degrees. It was less humid than New York City, though, and so wide open, it didn’t feel as oppressive.

  She could only see one structure from where she stood, and that was the house her grandparents had lived in when she was last here, and probably where her mother had lived before she’d left to go wherever she was.

  Quinn tossed the sunscreen back in the trunk, closed it, and walked toward the house, wishing she had asked Laird if she could peek inside. As she walked past on the dirt trail that she remembered led to the vineyards, she sneaked a look inside through one of the windows. It appeared, from that vantage point, that the house was empty. Laird had said his sons had only recently taken possession of the property, so it made sense.

  Maybe if she ran into him again, she’d ask if she could go inside, considering no one was living in it.

  The house wasn’t what held the most interest for Quinn though. She was looking for something much smaller, something she could barely remember, but it had been a special place for her and her grandfather.

  The little wooden structure was on the far edge of the property, near the westernmost vineyard, that much she remembered, but only because they’d watched the sunset from there one night.

  If she closed her eyes, she could see him, and even hear the words he’d spoken to her. She couldn’t have been more than seven at the time, since it was right before she left for boarding school.

  “From now on, I’ll call this ‘Quinn’s cabin,’ because every time I’m here, I’ll be reminded of watching the most perfect sunset with my only grandchild.”

  She’d never dreamed that would be the last time she watched a sunset with him, or even set foot on this property. She remembered thinking, at the time, that she’d be back the next summer.

  Her sense of direction was much better on foot than it had been in the car, particularly since it was easy to tell which way was west. There was a light breeze, and every once in a while, Quinn could smell the ocean and feel the chill it carried away from the water and over the hills.

  It was part of the reason grapes were able to grow here so plentifully. The heat of the sun during the day, and then the temperature drop at night, allowed for the grapes to ripen, but not too quickly, ensuring the juice that was eventually pressed from them was complex and full of the sugars that yeast would eventually turn into wine.

  She shook her head, marveling at the things her memory kept hidden most of the time, but brought back to the surface as she walked the land, feeling the sun on her face, and breathing in the scent of the earth.

  —:—

  “How did it go?” Mercer asked Razor, who raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine.”

  “Is she staying at the house?”

  Razor folded his arms. “Which way is it going to be, Eighty-eight? Are you done, or do you want to take back over Skipper’s detail?”

  He couldn’t help himself. As soon as Razor had told him she was on her way here, his mind had raced with what that meant. Within minutes he’d rented a house in Cambria, where it wasn’t as hot, and she could enjoy being by the ocean in the event she needed a place to stay.

  “How’s she going to get around?” he’d said to Razor, thinking through what else she’d need while she was here.

  “Auto-mo-bile?”

  When Mercer had said, “She’s twenty-one.” Razor conceded he hadn’t thought of that.

  They’d tracked her flight and made arrangements for Tabon to be at the airport when she landed, although he’d thought Mercer was overdoing it, making him take a bag along.

  “She’s smart,” he’d said, as though that explained his overzealousness.

  All the while, Paps watched, but didn’t say anything, although the words he’d said a couple of hours ago still resonated in Mercer’s head.

  It wasn’t until Razor left for the airport that Paps approached him.

  “Burns will wait on Old Creek Road,” he’d said. “Just in case that’s where she’s headed.”

  Mercer was stunned. “Thank you.”

  “I was too rough on you earlier,” Paps said, walking away.

  “No, you weren’t.”

  Paps turned around. “It isn’t the same.”

  Mercer wasn’t so sure. He’d lost his focus; that was the biggest problem, and if Doc had too, then the inherent problems were exactly the same.

  “She’s there,” Paps told him a little over an hour later. “Burns made contact, and she’s walking around the property. Fortunately, Maddox and Naughton already left.”

  That’s right, he’d heard they were in the vineyards earlier, with Alex and the new winemaker. “Thank you for letting me know.” Mercer nodded, but his mind was on something else, and he was troubled.

  “What’s going on?” Paps asked.

  “Calder and Vatos.” Mercer handed Paps his phone.

  “This is their third meeting,” he commented.

  “They’re up to something.” That was obvious, but the trouble was, each time the two met, it was out in a vineyard where whomever they had tailing them, couldn’t get close enough to hear their conversations.

  “We could engage Vatos,” Paps suggested.

  Mercer nodded. He agreed, but wished they’d done it after the second t
ime they’d met. It would still be possible to get him to talk by offering more money than they knew Calder was giving him. He leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face with his hand. Vatos was about to act; he could sense it, but he had no idea, no leads, and no clue as to what he might do.

  When the next message appeared on his phone, Mercer jumped up from his chair. “Fu-u-u-ck!” he shouted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Paps came running from the other room. “What’s up?”

  “Calder is on Old Creek Road.”

  “Go!” Paps yelled. “I’m right behind you.”

  “Engage Burns and whoever the hell else we can get on the ground,” he yelled on his way out the door leading to the garage.

  “Roger that,” he heard Paps answer right before the Ducati roared to life.

  At best, he was thirty minutes away, and as he drove, every one of them ticked by like an hour.

  Once he pulled up to the gate, Mercer didn’t give a shit whether he came face to face with Calder, all he cared about was making sure the bastard didn’t come in contact with Quinn.

  Paps messaged that Burns was expecting him and that Calder was in the caves while Skipper was still in the western vineyards. In between, there were two operatives ready to intercept if necessary.

  “Where is she exactly?” Mercer asked when Burns came out of the woods near where he’d parked.

  “I’ve sent you the coordinates,” Burns answered.

  “And Calder?”

  “Still in the caves.”

  “Who’s on him?”

  “Gunner.”

  Mercer was momentarily confused as he walked toward the bike, but then realized Burns meant Paps, who had obviously arrived before he had. He brought the coordinates up on his phone and briefly studied the best way to go. It was hard to tell how far he’d be able to get on the bike.

  “Come with me,” Burns said, already walking toward the trail. “You won’t get through on that, and you don’t want to alert Calder that you’re here.”

  He looked at the coordinates again. It was a good fifteen-minute walk from where they stood.