The Edge
Page 15
"You like the wine?" Paul asked.
"It's darker than the deepest sin," I said, gently swirling the wine in its crystal glass, watching it glide smoothly over the sides. "I met Rob Morrison today, the man who saved Jilly."
"Yes," Paul said. "I met Rob just after Jilly and I moved here. He gave me a speeding ticket. I hear you also spent time with Maggie Sheffield."
"Yeah. I don't know what to think of her just yet, but she seemed okay, once she got over her gut suspicions of me as an FBI agent."
Paul sat forward, his hands clenching. "Watch out for her, Mac."
"What does that mean?"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Please don't think that I'm being harsh or a woman hater. I'll just come out with it. She's a bitch, a ball-buster."
"I didn't get that impression at all." I cut another piece of the thick sirloin steak. It was even better than the lettuce and green bean salad at The Edwardian. "She wants to find out why Jilly went over that cliff. I appreciate that. You should too. What'd she do to you? Give you a speeding ticket like Morrison?"
"No, nothing like that. She wants to blame me for Jilly's accident. She's never liked me, believes I'm not good enough for Jilly. I don't appreciate that at all."
It was my turn to shrug. "She didn't say a word about you, Paul. She was waiting here in her car when I drove up. She wanted to talk to you."
"I'd have her fired if I could talk Geraldine into it. The woman's a menace. She doesn't like men in general, always giving them grief. Have you seen that damned gun she wears on her belt? It's ridiculous. Edgerton is a small, peaceful little town. No one-man or woman- should be wearing a damned gun, but she does. Of course, I already spoke to her at the hospital after Jilly was admitted."
"It's not odd at all for a cop-male or female-to want to question someone more than once," I said mildly, surprised that Paul would spew out that sexist crap. I'd gotten no hint at all that she didn't like men. "In the excitement and stress of the moment, people tend to forget things. I'll bet even you will be able to tell her more now than you did then."
"About what, for God's sake? Jilly went over that damned cliff and I don't know why. She was a little depressed, but everyone's down once in a while. That's it, Mac. There's nothing more."
I took the last bite of my steak, sat back in my chair, rubbed my belly, and took another sip of my Pinot Noir. Paul looked pale, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. He looked ill, frightened. Or maybe I was just seeing myself in Paul. Lord knew I looked sick enough. "Are you certain there's nothing else, Paul? What was Jilly depressed about? Was she taking any medication for the depression? Was she seeing anyone professionally?"
Paul laughed, a tight, constipated laugh. "Just listen to you. SuperCop with his load of questions. No, she wasn't. I'm exhausted, Mac. I don't want to talk anymore. There's nothing more to say. I'm going to bed." He shoved back his chair and stood up. "Good night. I hope you don't mind the double bed in the guest room. It'll be a bit on the short side for you."
"I'll do just fine, Paul. I slept some this afternoon on that big front porch chair of yours. I think I'll go to the hospital to see Jilly. Good night."
Ford was here again, holding my hand like he had before. The warmth of his hand was indescribable, just like before. Thank God I hadn't just imagined it that first time. I didn't want to lose my brain the way I'd lost my body.
But when was before?
It could have been this morning or last year for all I knew. It was odd, but I had no sense of time at all. I knew what it was, but it had no meaning to me.
There were other shadowy creatures behind Ford, then finally they left, and we were alone.
"Jilly," he said, and I wanted to cry with the sheer relief of hearing his voice, but I didn't know if this body I couldn't feel was even capable of yielding up tears.
I wanted to ask him if they 'd gotten my Porsche out of the ocean.
Ford said, "Sweetheart, I don't know if you can hear me or not. I hope somehow that you can. I spoke to Kevin and Gwen and gave them an update. They send their love and their prayers.
"Now, Jilly, tell me about why you were depressed."
Depressed? What was this about being depressed? I've never been depressed in my life.
Who said anything about being fucking depressed? I yelled it at Ford, but naturally, he didn't hear me because my words were only bouncing about inside my skull.
"It's darker than the deepest sin," I said, gently swirling the wine in its crystal glass, watching it glide smoothly over the sides. "I met Rob Morrison today, the man who saved Jilly."
"Yes," Paul said. "I met Rob just after Jilly and I moved here. He gave me a speeding ticket. I hear you also spent time with Maggie Sheffield."
"Yeah. I don't know what to think of her just yet, but she seemed okay, once she got over her gut suspicions of me as an FBI agent."
Paul sat forward, his hands clenching. "Watch out for her, Mac."
"What does that mean?"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Please don't think that I'm being harsh or a woman hater. I'll just come out with it. She's a bitch, a ball-buster."
"I didn't get that impression at all." I cut another piece of the thick sirloin steak. It was even better than the lettuce and green bean salad at The Edwardian. "She wants to find out why Jilly went over that cliff. I appreciate that. You should too. What'd she do to you? Give you a speeding ticket like Morrison?"
"No, nothing like that. She wants to blame me for Jilly's accident. She's never liked me, believes I'm not good enough for Jilly. I don't appreciate that at all."
It was my turn to shrug. "She didn't say a word about you, Paul. She was waiting here in her car when I drove up. She wanted to talk to you."
"I'd have her fired if I could talk Geraldine into it. The woman's a menace. She doesn't like men in general, always giving them grief. Have you seen that damned gun she wears on her belt? It's ridiculous. Edgerton is a small, peaceful little town. No one-man or woman- should be wearing a damned gun, but she does. Of course, I already spoke to her at the hospital after Jilly was admitted."
"It's not odd at all for a cop-male or female-to want to question someone more than once," I said mildly, surprised that Paul would spew out that sexist crap. I'd gotten no hint at all that she didn't like men. "In the excitement and stress of the moment, people tend to forget things. I'll bet even you will be able to tell her more now than you did then."
"About what, for God's sake? Jilly went over that damned cliff and I don't know why. She was a little depressed, but everyone's down once in a while. That's it, Mac. There's nothing more."
I took the last bite of my steak, sat back in my chair, rubbed my belly, and took another sip of my Pinot Noir. Paul looked pale, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. He looked ill, frightened. Or maybe I was just seeing myself in Paul. Lord knew I looked sick enough. "Are you certain there's nothing else, Paul? What was Jilly depressed about? Was she taking any medication for the depression? Was she seeing anyone professionally?"
Paul laughed, a tight, constipated laugh. "Just listen to you. SuperCop with his load of questions. No, she wasn't. I'm exhausted, Mac. I don't want to talk anymore. There's nothing more to say. I'm going to bed." He shoved back his chair and stood up. "Good night. I hope you don't mind the double bed in the guest room. It'll be a bit on the short side for you."
"I'll do just fine, Paul. I slept some this afternoon on that big front porch chair of yours. I think I'll go to the hospital to see Jilly. Good night."
Ford was here again, holding my hand like he had before. The warmth of his hand was indescribable, just like before. Thank God I hadn't just imagined it that first time. I didn't want to lose my brain the way I'd lost my body.
But when was before?
It could have been this morning or last year for all I knew. It was odd, but I had no sense of time at all. I knew what it was, but it had no meaning to me.
There were other shadowy creatures behind Ford, then finally they left, and we were alone.
"Jilly," he said, and I wanted to cry with the sheer relief of hearing his voice, but I didn't know if this body I couldn't feel was even capable of yielding up tears.
I wanted to ask him if they 'd gotten my Porsche out of the ocean.
Ford said, "Sweetheart, I don't know if you can hear me or not. I hope somehow that you can. I spoke to Kevin and Gwen and gave them an update. They send their love and their prayers.
"Now, Jilly, tell me about why you were depressed."
Depressed? What was this about being depressed? I've never been depressed in my life.
Who said anything about being fucking depressed? I yelled it at Ford, but naturally, he didn't hear me because my words were only bouncing about inside my skull.
