Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49

Finn

I arrive back home at close to midnight, exhausted. With a headache the size of Texas. The rest of this day has been a total nightmare.

It began mid-afternoon with Kayla's emergency phone call about the loser catalogue publisher she hired. I hurried to her condo, battling the LA traffic, only to find her not ready for our trip to Hawthorne. Forty fricking miles away.

"Sorry, darling, I'm in slow-mo with my crutches, thanks to your bright idea to go to that despicable apple dump with your imp and that wilderness girl."

Too bad I couldn't tell her forget the catalogue and then turn around. Go back home. Finish my painting. Spend time with Scarlet.

Then, I battled more traffic on both the 10 and San Diego Freeway, which included a big rig accident that brought everything to a standstill. Another two unbearable, agonizing hours. With Kayla chewing my ear off. My audacity. The nerve of me abandoning her yesterday. My incompetence. Like it's my fault the catalogue got screwed up. My clothing. Sweats are for peasants. My driving. As if I can make the traffic go away.

An ugly shouting match followed at the printer's with Kayla threatening to sue the small start-up company. I actually felt sorry for them. Just a bunch of young creative guys. And the screw up wasn't even their fault as it was Kayla who sent the wrong images.

Once everything was resolved to her satisfaction, she insisted I take her out for dinner at the Chateau Marmont, her favorite hangout, to talk about "things." I foolishly agreed thinking that she wanted to go over final details of my show. Wrong. All she wanted to talk about was our upcoming wedding and I didn't want to talk about it at all. More angry words were exchanged. Had we not been at a public place surrounded by her high falutin friends, many of them coming to the opening, I would have broken up with her right then and there. I lost my opportunity, when in a tiff, she Ubered home.

On my drive back to Malibu, I put on some Springsteen. All I could think about was Scarlet, replaying in my head our afternoon together. Beautiful, sensuous Scarlet. There was a moment as I fixed her hair that I wanted to rip off those scanty panties, then splay her on my drafting table... paint her body... tease her with a brush... and possess every inch of her. All the erotic things I did to my late wife. The similarities between the two of them have messed with my sanity. Both my heart and my head. In retrospect, I should have ripped off that little piece of lace and confirmed what I thought I saw in that motel shower. Then, I thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe just a bruise. But now, I'm having other thoughts. Could it be possible? All just "A Brilliant Disguise?"

Rubbing my throbbing temples, I lumber into the kitchen and pour myself a Scotch. I guzzle it in one shot, the searing liquid quickly seeping into my veins and alleviating my tension. A warm, familiar voice sounds in my ears.

" Se?or Jackson." Rosita. "You are home late." Shuffling my way, she studies me. "Your eyes, very heavy."

"I'm tired. Tired and stressed."

"That muy mala mujer —she does that to you."

Rosita has made it no secret that she despises Kayla, who treats her like a lowlife servant.

"You do not belong with her. Se?orita Scarlet, she eez a good woman!"

At the mention of Scarlet's name, my spirits lift.

"Did she have dinner with you and Maddie?"

She shakes her head. "She was feeling sick. Went to bed early."

A mixture of guilt and concern ripples through me. Maybe it's all my fault she's fallen ill. I fight the urge to check up on her. If she's sleeping, I don't want to awaken her. And if she's up, God knows what I'll do to her. I switch gears.

"It's late, Rosita. What are you doing down here? You should be sleeping too."

"I came for a glass of water for Maddie."

"My daughter . . . she's up?"

"Sí, se?or."

I set my tumbler down. "You know what, Rosita? Why don't you get some shut-eye, and I'll bring Maddie some water."

Five minutes later, I'm in my daughter's room with a plastic sippy cup in my hand. Her nightlight is on. She bolts up when she sees me.

"Daddy! You're back! Where did you go?"

"I had some business to take care of." No mention of Kayla. "What are you doing up, baby?" I stride over to her bed, my spirits brightening at the sight of my bright-eyed child.

"I couldn't sleep." I hand her the cup of water and she takes several sips. "Thanks, Daddy!"

"I want you to go to sleep now. Tomorrow's a school day."

"Can I show you something first?"

Reluctantly, I say yes. Her eyes glistening with excitement, she dips her little hand inside her worn, fuzzy kangaroo's pouch.

"Look what I found." My jaw drops and my eyes flare with shock as they behold the object in her palm. A necklace.

"Where did you find that?" I gasp.

"In my classroom. Under my desk. Before I had dinner. I think it belongs to Scarlet."

My mind is a whirling dervish. While I try to make sense of Maddie's discovery, she snaps open the object hanging from the gold chain. A locket.

"Daddy, it has a picture of you, me, and Mommy. Just like the one on my nightstand."

I stare at the photo, my heart and mind racing, thinking back to that fatal night. It was around Skye's neck! I'm sure of it!

Frenzied, I refocus my attention on my daughter. She snaps the locket shut and then flips it over, showing off her reading skills. "And on the back it has the word "Forever." She spells it out, then cocks her head. "Daddy, why would Scarlet have this locket with our picture in it?"

I have no words; I'm speechless. Rattled to the bone, I want to snatch it from her, but force myself to slip the heirloom out of her hand as gently as possible. Quickly, I tuck my daughter back into bed and kiss her goodnight. Hurrying out of her room, I hear my heart thud. My need for the truth pulses through my head like a freight train. In answer to her question, I'm going to find out.

Right this very second.