Dawn Patrol - Don Winslow [93]
No, it was the stunt with the lady lawyer, the Brit. Maybe it was the accent that pissed Johnny off, but more probably it was Boone pulling the shit that Johnny expected from the La Jolla beautiful people, the rich and influential, and not a lifelong surfing buddy.
Face it, he tells himself as he looks down at his wife, Beth, sleeping in bed. You never thought you’d see Boone go for the money, never thought you’d see him go for that kind of woman. The whole ambitious professional thing.
Well, never say never.
Johnny kisses his wife and receives a murmured “Morning,” then stops off at each of his kids’ rooms to check in on them. His son, Brian, is sound asleep, clad in Spider-Man pajamas, stretched out in the bottom bed of the set of bunks he’d wanted so that he could have friends for sleepovers. Abbie is likewise, curled into her Wonder Woman blanket, the lightest sheen of sweat on her upper lip. And thank God, Johnny thinks, that she takes after her mother.
He looks at her lying there so peaceful and innocent, and, hopefully, so safe, and it makes him think of the little girl’s toothbrush in the room at the Crest Motel. Who was the girl? What was she doing there? Where is she now?
Johnny walks over, kisses his daughter softly on the cheek, and heads out the door.
It’s going to be a tough day. Dan Silver’s civil trial starts at nine and Tammy Roddick is scheduled to take the stand shortly afterward, and Johnny is going to be in the gallery when she does. So he’ll have to get into a judge’s chamber early to get a warrant written for both Boone and Roddick. She’ll probably be on the stand for a couple of hours or more; then Johnny intends to pick them both up and get some answers about Angela Hart’s death.
Sorry, B, he thinks.
I’m invoking the jump-in rule.
95
Boone stands on the pier and watches Hang Twelve sit out in the water by himself.
Kid’s not even bothering to catch any of the good waves that are coming in like a machine’s cranking them out. Just sits beyond the break and lets them roll under him like he’s catatonic or something.
Boone waves his arms and yells, “Hang!”
Hang Twelve looks over, sees Boone, and then looks away.
A few seconds later, he paddles in. Boone watches him pick up his board, walk up the beach, and head up the street.
96
Petra’s sitting at the kitchen table when Boone comes in. Her hands are wrapped around a mug of tea.
“Look, it’s all good,” he says. “It’s over. It’s taken care of.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“You’re good to go,” Boone says. “Tammy can testify about the arson, tell the cops whatever she knows about Angela’s murder. Danny’s not going to do a thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because he wants to live,” Boone says. “I can’t tell you any more.”
Can’t tell them that he made a deal that, in effect, cuts Danny off from Red Eddie. And Danny would take a fall on the lawsuit, even the murder, before he’d hurt Tammy, because she’s now under Eddie’s protection. And violating Red Eddie’s protection is a capital offense, no appeals, no last-minute calls from the governor.
“You want to go to The Sundowner?” Boone asks. “Grab some breakfast?”
“What did you trade?” Petra asks.
“Huh?”
“You obviously made a deal with Red Eddie,” Petra says. “What I’m asking is, what did you give in return?”
“Not so much,” he says. When he sees her skeptical look, he adds, “I did him a solid once. I cashed in the chip.”
“Must have been quite a chip.”
“Sort of.”
She’s touched. “You did that for me?”
“I did it for Tammy,” Boone says. “And for you. And me.”
“We can’t have breakfast in The Sundowner,” Petra says.
“Why not?”
“Because it would be too awkward,” Petra says. “It would be rubbing it in her face.”
“Sunny doesn’t care,” Boone says.
Men are idiots, Petra thinks. “She’s still in love with you.”
“No, she’s not,” Boone says.
Yes, she is, Petra thinks. The question is, are you still in love with her?