Chapter 8

Eight

W alter

I followed Dane back into the house, where he was on a mission to bake a cake. I stood in the doorway to the kitchen while he started pulling things out of cabinets.

"What's going on in here?" Ryan asked with an amused tone when he entered a few moments later.

"I feel like cake. It's sort of a tradition in this house." He seemed a bit frustrated with his search.

"Can I help?" I asked. I did know my way around a kitchen. When things went south with my father, for a minute I thought I'd rebel and become a chef instead of going into law enforcement. It was my way of pissing him off, but by then he was too far gone to care.

"Things aren't where Tess kept them. Everything looks different. The pantry used to be over there, and she always had plenty of baking supplies. I can't find the mixer."

Ryan and I traded looks, and then helped in the search.

"There's so many cabinets now," Dane grumbled. "Ah, there it is. Detective, would you be so kind?"

He pointed to a mixer on the top shelf, and I approached to reach up for it. He didn't move. Our proximity had my body on high alert, just as it had been when we were on the patio together. Our hands connected as I set the mixer on the counter for him. Standing this close, I got a good look at the scar on his cheekbone. Probably from being struck, or his face striking a rough object.

He must have realized I was looking at his scar. He put a hand over it and turned away from me.

"What else do you need?" Ryan asked.

"Eggs, butter, baking powder, flour, sugar, vanilla, whole or buttermilk, vegetable oil. Oh, and cocoa powder and powdered sugar for the icing. Or chocolate chips if necessary."

For someone who'd been having trouble remembering things, this was a good sign. But then I noticed him looking at all of the items funny, and the oven with its digital controls had him stumped.

"What temp do you need it at?" I asked him gently.

He gazed up at me with that spooked expression, and I recognized what he was up to. He was overwhelmed with everything, and the cake baking was a distraction he desperately needed.

"Three-fifty? Please?"

The pleading in his voice had me ready to do anything for him. Anything to lessen his anxiety.He watched me push the buttons on the stove, nodding to himself.

"I don't think I've ever baked a cake before. Definitely haven't baked from scratch," Ryan said. "I've made brownies from a box a few times. Well," he laughed, "in my reckless youth. And they had a little extra kick, if you know what I mean."

Dane shrugged as he measured ingredients and mixed them like a pro. "Tess was known to add all kinds of fun to her cooking. There was one night she mixed a particularly potent batch of magic mushrooms into her midnight omelets and the whole house was full of people trippin'. I showed up the next morning and she was trying to keep everyone out of the pool. Someone was convinced there was gold on the bottom, and they were all trying to jump in to get the gold. I helped her keep the peace until the high wore off and everyone went home."

I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask him some more harmless questions while he worked.

"The stories say everyone used to go from house to house up here, and that Cass Elliot's house was a popular spot. Was Tess's house like that too?"

Dane had the ingredients in the mixer, and he was trying to figure out how to turn it on. I let him poke at it and a moment later, he had it going.

"People made the rounds, yeah. Tess's house was the place to be when Cass was on the road with the band or solo. When Tess was gone, everyone went to Joni's or Cass's. I went wherever Mom's deliveries needed to go."

"Deliveries?" I asked him.

He winked at me. "Mom never told you?"

I shook my head.

"I was her delivery boy. Diane's Herbal Remedies. She supplied most of the folks up here with weed and mushrooms." He shrugged. "Kept me fed, so I wasn't complaining."

"It was the time for it," I said with a laugh.

That seemed to put him at ease. He had to know I wouldn't hold any of that against him. Not now.It didn't surprise me to learn that about Diane, but it made me chuckle to wonder whether the octogenarian still partook of her herbal remedies? Perhaps that was why she was still producing such gorgeous artwork.

"No shit," Ryan said, his eyes wide. "You knew all those musicians?"

Dane grinned but kept his eyes on his work."I was in the right place at the right time, I suppose. We all were. Lotta bands came out of this canyon."

"Did you tell them?" I asked him, wondering if Ryan and Kal knew just how precious the man was. Whom they'd collected from the side of the road.

He shook his head and gazed up at me nervously.

"Do you want me to?"

He shrugged and looked away.

"Tell us what?" Kal asked as he came into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist from behind and rested his cheek on Ryan's head.

I leaned in close and whispered, "I won't say anything if you're not comfortable with them knowing, but sooner or later they'll figure it out. And eventually, we're going to have to figure out how to explain who you are. We have to talk about how that's going to go. No one is going to buy you being the same Dane Donovan."

He turned to me with wide eyes. "Who's going to care?" He didn't keep his voice down, and I thought perhaps I should have brought this up out on the back patio.

"Dee Dee? What's wrong?" Kal was getting his hackles up again. I needed him to know I wasn't a threat to his new friend. This guy had a story, too, and I was curious about him.

Something behind Dane's gaze shifted, and he stood a little taller. "Okay. You can tell them. The rest we can deal with later."

"Tell us what?" Ryan's curiosity was moving into concerned territory.

I rested my elbows on the counter next to Dane and smiled at him. "You are in the presence of one of those legendary folk rock singer-songwriters that came out of this place in the 1960s and 1970s. He not only knew Tess Miller and the Luminaries of Laurel Canyon, as the latest documentary declared them, but he was one of them. He not only played with them live, and on a few of the most brilliant albums of the era, but he also wrote some of the songs you probably grew up listening to. Dee Dee… is Dane Donovan." I held out my hands a la Vanna White.

Ryan and Kal stared at me blankly.

Ryan rubbed at his chin. "At the risk of sounding like a huge dick, I'm afraid the name doesn't ring a bell."

Kal shrugged. "Sorry, I only know music from the nineteen thirties and before. Oh, and the bands that were on Warped Tour last year."

I wasn't expecting that answer.

Ryan laughed and kissed his husband, whispering something to him that made the big man smile.

Dane just shrugged. "Detective, you're making a big deal out of nothing."

"I am not! You've at least heard Tess Miller's ‘Life of the Party, Death of My Heart?' right?"

Ryan blinked, and then he started humming. "‘He'll break your heart in so many ways,' you mean that song?"

Dane grinned but continued greasing the cake pan.

"That's the one. And the song ‘Taste of Midnight'? He wrote that one as well."

"Dee Dee, that's fucking cool!" Ryan was excited now. "I know those songs. I can't believe it. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. I can't sing anymore."

"Why not?" Ryan asked.

Dane looked up at him, and his chin quivered a bit.

Kal's eyes flared. "Because of the bad thing?"

Dane glanced at me, then shrugged again.

Kal's expression hardened, and he sighed before speaking to me. "I couldn't speak when I left the carnival. Ryan and his friends helped me. It took a knock on the head during a fight… my memories all came back after that, and then I could talk."

"No offense," Dane said. "But I don't want to get hit in the head again."

One side of Kal's lips quirked up. "Yeah, I don't recommend it either."

"Kal? You worked at the carnival too?"

He stiffened and glanced at Ryan, as if he didn't know whether he should answer me.

"Go ahead, babe. I think we can trust him."

Kal nodded. "Yes. I was there, too. For many years."

I laughed nervously. "Many years? Does this carnival have a fountain of youth or something? You look really young, too."

"Something like that," Kal answered. "Time is different there."

"And," Ryan said, giving me a pointed look, "this is what I meant by believing in things that might seem sorta woo-woo."

"Seeing as how I remember meeting Dane at a carnival when I was ten years old, I can be accused of buying into the woo-woo. It was a bizarre childhood memory that I didn't put together until today. Believe me, I tried to forget what happened that day for a long time."

"Why would you try to forget it?" Dane asked me, doing that proximity thing again, standing so close that I couldn't help but brush against him if I even breathed. "Here," he said, handing me the rubber spatula. "Would you fill the cake pans, please?" He pressed against my left arm.

I would do anything for you.

Which was why I should have left right then. Gotten in my truck and called the local police, or even Dax. I should be reporting in that I'd found the person of interest in a forty-year-old case. Not continuing to stand in a kitchen, practically playing footsies and baking cakes with the most interesting person I'd ever met, read about… I knew many pertinent details about his life, things he probably would have wished were never revealed.

But who would believe me?

Certainly not Dax, and if I told Gene or Denny, they'd give me that sad look they got sometimes when we talked about my dad. I didn't need to give anyone a reason to question my ability to do my job… or my sanity.

No. I wasn't going to call anyone. Not yet. I was supposed to be on vacation, right? I'd been given the opportunity to get to know Dane after all this time. I wasn't ready to give that up.

My personal connection to this case made me incredibly protective of him, and if there was some otherworldly element to his story? I would just have to figure out how to do my job without exposing anything that could hurt him. One look at his scars, and I knew.

I would do whatever it took to protect him, badge or no badge.

I couldn't believe the thought crossed my mind, but yes, I'd put his safety over my career.Selfishly, because I'd given so much of my life to finding him, but all I needed to do was take one look at his bright green eyes and notice the tremor in his hands and every ounce of protectiveness in me was called into action.

I took the spatula from him as well as the mixing bowl and carefully separated the cake mix into the two round cake pans as I explained. "The aftermath of that visit to the carnival was a painful part of my family history. That's all I'll say about it for now." Yes, these men could trust me . I wasn't quite ready to reveal that slice of family history with strangers. Not even for Dane.

"No shit," Ryan said. "Well, I had a pretty fucked-up situation as well after I went for the first time. And the second time, as a matter of fact. But never in the carnival. Only outside of it."

"That's because Mr. Ame doesn't let anything bad happen in the carnival." Kal handed us all glasses of water, and I held mine up.

"Here's to painful pasts and positive futures."

The men chuckled, and we all clinked glasses.

Dane put the cakes in the oven carefully with oven mitts and closed the door. "Do you mind setting the timer for thirty-two minutes?"

"Exactly? That's a peculiar amount of time."

He pressed his lips together. "It's in the middle of the suggested time range. Isn't that playing it safe?"

"Or it could be taking a risk. Using a new-to-you oven might be cause for being conservative and choosing the shortest amount of time."

"But that's what toothpicks are for. Insert and see, ya dig? It's all a delicate science, but I think a two-minute risk is worth it."

Dane's smile was downright flirtatious, more so than it had been on the patio.

How wrong was it that I liked it? I shouldn't have flirted back, but I had, hadn't I? I should remain somewhat professional, but I didn't want to discourage him. Young Walter had his fantasy right in front of him, but Young Walter wasn't in control. Seasoned Detective Walter had to stay in charge, despite the temptation before him.

"Well, we've got thirty minutes to wait," Dane said. "Ryan? What do you say? Want to play for us? I'm curious about your sound, man."

Ryan tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. "Guess it would be cool. I gotta warn you, though, if you're all about folk music, I'm not sure you'll like what I do. It's not as heavy as my former band, but it's heavier than what you're used to."

"I think my son listened to your band," I said. "He had his emo phase."

Ryan cracked up. "So at least you'll be prepared. I don't know. My new stuff I've been working on isn't so emo anymore. Falling in love does that to you, you know?"

He winked at Kal, who rolled his eyes.

"You just needed someone on your side," Kal said shyly.

"Man," Ryan said, blowing out a breath. "See? He's perfect. He's magic. Oh! That's what I'll play." Ryan picked up one of the several acoustic guitars hanging from the living room wall. I recognized the song as one from the early '80s by America. He sang the lyrics crisp and clean. I was impressed. I'd always liked that song. He played it through, and I noticed that Dane was watching him very closely.

"I plan on taking a cue from my pal Maria Brink, from In This Moment, and changing the arrangement to make this cover of the song a little darker. It'll fit more with my sparkling personality."

"What happened with your band?" I asked him. "You guys taking a break, or…"

"It's a permanent break," Kal said, and that scowl of his was back. "They were awful to him."

"Aw, baby." Ryan leaned over and kissed Kal, who was sitting next to him on the couch. "It's rock 'n' roll, man. I fucked up, and they weren't able to forgive and move on. Happens all the time."

"The accident?" I asked.

He nodded. "And my subsequent prison sentence. Put a cramp in their plans, feel me?"

I shook my head. "Glad you're doing better now."

He shrugged and went back to strumming the guitar. I had a feeling he'd moved on but was still haunted by what had happened.

"That's America, right? I met those guys." Dane grabbed his guitar, plucked the strings and checked the tuning. "Thank you, Kal. It feels good." He launched into "Horse With No Name" and Ryan started humming along, trying to pick up the chords. I watched Dane's nimble fingers play the song as Ryan sang the chorus.

"How 'bout this one?" Ryan asked, and he launched into another tune that was familiar.

"Ah, Glenn and the boys," Dane said, as he started playing "Take It Easy" with Ryan. "I was there the night they asked Jackson Browne if they could finish the song. He'd been working on it for a while but he wasn't feeling it."

Ryan gaped at him. "That's so fucking cool! I love the Eagles, man. Is it true they started out as a backup band for Linda Ronstadt?"

Dane nodded and noodled around a bit more, then started playing another tune in earnest.

"Wait, that sounds familiar." Ryan started humming, and then the words came to him. "Well there's a rose in a fisted glove…" And he sang the rest of the chorus while Dane played some complicated chords. I knew the song, of course, my mom had every one of Stephen Stills's albums, and I'd followed his legal troubles over the years. He's a genius, and his lyrics and musical talent influenced so many artists of his time. But like several of his contemporaries, the drugs really fucked up everything. For him and David Crosby.

When they finished that song, I turned to Dane. "It must feel like yesterday."

He gazed up at me with those guarded green eyes and his smile was sad."I can't think about the time. I'd lost so many friends already. How many more have passed on since?"

"We can talk about it when you're ready, whenever that is. For now, probably you should check on your cake."

The timer's beep went off right then, and I followed Dane into the kitchen to be of assistance.

He carefully pulled out the cake pans and sat them on the stove to cool. "Probably I should have thought about the fact that it's two in the morning and these have to cool, but hey, cake for breakfast is always a nice treat."

"I'm sure it will be delicious," I said. He was going to have a lot of grief to process when he realized everything that he'd missed, all the history. "Whenever you get to eat it."

Dane started parsing out the ingredients for the frosting. "Might as well get this ready," he said.

"Hey, guys, we're going to crash," Ryan said from the doorway. "Detective, you're welcome to any open rooms. The locked doors are the only ones off limits, as they're for Scott's family. Dane, if you need anything, wake us up, okay? I mean it."

He smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

Ryan smiled back and nodded, and then he and Kal wandered off down the hall, deeper into the house.

"I should go," I said. "I'll be back in the morning, though, so we can talk."

"Taste this first, see what you think." He smeared some of the chocolate frosting onto his index finger and held it up for me.

What I wouldn't give to suck his finger.

Instead, I dragged my finger along his and took some of the frosting. We both sucked it off of our fingers at the same time, and I nearly moaned at the sight of his dusty-rose lips pursed, his pink tongue licking the frosting clean. "That's so good. I haven't had frosting made from scratch in a long time."

"Stick around. I'd love to feed you."

He was doing that proximity thing again, and man, did I want to close that space. I hadn't felt this charged from meeting someone in a long time. Even with the background knowledge I had of this man, he was new, he was young, and he made me feel young again, despite the fact that he was twenty years older. But he wasn't.

"I'd love that, too. But Dane…"

He exhaled and rolled his eyes. "You're an honest man of the law, and I'm… God, what am I? A time refugee. A flunky folky without a place."

I took his hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over his scarred knuckles. "You are an important person who's been a victim of a horrific crime, who deserves justice. And peace. I want to give that to you, whatever it takes. However long it takes."

"You want to be my knight in shining armor, Detective?"

"I want to make things right," I said, feeling something blooming between us and wishing I didn't have to fight it. Maybe there would be a time when I could give in. Now was not that time.

"Save it for someone worthy," he said, turning away from me. "Go get some rest. I'm going to do a bit more haunting of this place like the ghost I am."

"You don't know how worthy you are." I wasn't sure he even heard me, but he did give me one last small smile before he walked out of the kitchen.

I went out the front door, locking it behind me, and I walked down the long drive to where I'd parked my truck. I wasn't going to leave.

No. I wasn't going to leave these men sitting ducks when there was a killer on the loose.

Maybe the guy at the carnival had somehow known who Dane was, knew about his disappearance, and decided to pick that date, that spot to make his move. If he knew that much about Dane, he probably knew his connection to Laurel Canyon. So vacation or not, I wasn't going to leave him unprotected.

I texted Gene and let him know I was all right.

Check your email. Dax sent you crime scene photos and medical examiner's initial findings. You better get some rest. Where you staying?

I thanked him and purposely didn't answer his last question. I opened up the files on my laptop and spent what felt like hours going over every detail.

It could have only been minutes, though. I fell asleep hard with my laptop open. Disturbing dreams plagued me, someone creeping around the property. I had my weapon out and was following someone but all I could hear was something being dragged on gravel.