Mad, Bad and Blonde - Cathie Linz [90]
“Yes, it is.” He started pacing. “I should have provided backup for my dad. I should have known that I was investigating a murder and not a suicide. But my dad’s last e-mail to me said he was sorry and he couldn’t go on. If that doesn’t sound like a suicide note, I sure as hell don’t know what does.”
“Is that all he wrote?”
Caine nodded. “Two sentences. That’s it.”
“Fred Belkin could have sent that e-mail from your father’s laptop. It didn’t say anything specific.”
“You’re right. My dad would have said something about joining my mom. He loved her so much. Too much.”
“How can you love someone too much?”
“Trust me, it’s possible.”
She wondered if Caine hadn’t inadvertently just given her a key to his inner self. If he thought his father loved his mother too much, it made sense that he wouldn’t want to make the same mistake. And he definitely made it sound like a mistake, like love was something to be avoided.
She should ask him about that now. She really should. But she wasn’t ready to hear his answer yet. So instead she referred back to the case. “I thought someone was following me when Megan and I were at the stained glass museum the other day. Do you think it was Fred Jr.?”
Caine nodded. “He did babble something about that while you were in the bathroom before the police took him away. You should have told me about it earlier.”
“I thought I was just being paranoid or something.”
“He was also the one tailing Weldon.”
She paused for a moment before quietly saying, “I looked for you at the hospital today, but you’d left.”
“I went to the cemetery. Did you know my dad liked model trains? He collected several of them. They’re packed up in a storage unit. He hated celery and liked watching NCIS on TV. I’d forgotten that kind of stuff. The little things. He taught me to love broccoli. I never told anyone else that. And he made these weird fried egg and ketchup sandwiches.”
Faith knew Caine’s staccato sentences were a sign of his stress. Blinking back the tears, she softly said, “I wish I’d gotten the chance to know him.”
“He was a good guy. A special guy.”
“I’m sure he was. After all, he had a son who’s a pretty special guy.”
“I thought my dad wasn’t tough enough to fight off the depression that sucked him in every year on the anniversary of my mom’s death. I thought he was weak to give in instead of fighting.” Caine’s voice grew hoarse with emotion. “But he wasn’t weak. He was murdered.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” He stopped pacing and sat on the couch next to her. “Me too.” He gently wiped away the tears rolling down her cheek. “Don’t. Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m usually tougher than this.”
“I know you are.” He kissed her. Words were abandoned in favor of caresses that started out tender and became increasingly passionate until he carried her to her bedroom and made love to her with a deep desperation that had her gasping his name as she came again and again.
“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Megan grabbed Faith the instant she opened her front door the next morning. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I had to come see for myself.” She looked over Faith’s shoulder. “Am I interrupting something?”
Faith turned and caught sight of her blouse still draped across her couch where Caine had left it last night when he’d undressed her. “No. Caine left before I woke up this morning.”
“Our parents are kind of nervous about what Caine’s going to do next.”
“Me too.” He’d made love to her with a newfound sense of intensity that both thrilled her a lot and unnerved her a bit. Was that his way of saying good-bye? He’d left without waking her. He’d never done that before.
Back in Italy he’d threatened to make her father pay big time for falsely accusing his dad. She didn’t know if he still planned on doing that, and she hadn’t felt right about asking him after he’d shared his memories of his father with her following his visit to the cemetery.
“Did he say anything?” Megan said. “Give you any clues about his plans?”
“Not really.” Faith smoothed the red wraparound jacket she’d worn her first day at West Investigations.