Jeffery Deaver - XO

They sat at a booth and ordered iced teas and, for Kayleigh, a burger. Edwin got a milkshake; the wound in his neck made chewing painful, he explained. “I love ’em. But I haven’t had one for months. Hey, if nothing else, you got me to lose that weight I’d been trying to for years.”

“Wow, that bruise is something.”

He lifted the chrome napkin holder and used it as a mirror. “I think it’s getting worse.”

“Hurts a lot?”

“Yeah. But the big problem is I have to sleep on my back, which is something I’ve never been able to do.” Their meals came and they ate and sipped. He asked, “How’s your house?”

“I’ll need new carpets, have to replace a lot of floor and a wall. The big problem is the smoke damage. It got into everything. They’re talking about a hundred thousand dollars. Half my clothes have to go too. They stink.”

“Sorry.”

Then an awkward silence arose and it was clear Edwin didn’t want to talk about the terrible events of the past few days. Fine with her. He started chatting about music and some of the founding women of the country scene. He talked about the records in his collection-he still listened to a lot of music on LPs and had invested in an expensive turntable. Kayleigh too thought that vinyl-analog recordings-produced the purest sound, better than the highest-quality digital.

Edwin mentioned he’d just found some Kitty Wells singles in a used record shop in Seattle.

“You like her?” Kayleigh asked, surprised. “She’s one of my favorites.”

“Have almost all of her records. You know she had a Billboard hit when she was sixty?”

“I did, yeah.”

Wells, who started singing in the 1950s, was one of the first women inductees into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

They talked about country music back then-Nashville versus Texas versus Bakersfield. She laughed when Edwin quoted Loretta Lynn, who fought her way up through the male-dominated recording Industry: “A woman’s two cents’ worth is worth about two cents in the country music world.”

In Edwin’s opinion country represented the best of commercial music, much better than pop and hip-hop. It was well crafted, used appealing tunes and incorporated themes about important issues in everybody’s lives like family, love, work, even politics. And the musicians were top craftspeople, unlike many folk, alternative, hip-hop and rock artists.

On the broader issue of the music world, he wasn’t happy about the decline of the recording industry and thought that illegal downloads would continue to be a problem and erode the quality of performances. “If artists don’t get paid for what they do, then what’s the incentive to keep writing and making good music?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Kayleigh tapped her iced tea glass to his milkshake.

When they were through with lunch, Kayleigh gave Edwin his ticket. “Front and center. I’ll wave to you. Oh, and those picks are the best.”

“Glad you liked them.”

Her phone buzzed. A text from Tye Slocum: the Martin’s ready to go, how you doing?

Curious. He rarely texted, much less about something as mundane as the status of an instrument.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” She didn’t finish and put her phone away. She’d respond later.

The bill came and Edwin insisted on paying. “Well, this is a real treat. I never thought I’d be in the front row at a Kayleigh Towne concert.”

They walked into the parking lot. As they approached her Suburban, Edwin gave a laugh and pointed to his old red car, a few spaces down from hers. “‘Buick’ would be pretty tough to rhyme with. Good thing you picked ‘Cadillac.’”

“‘Toyota’ would’ve been worse,” Kayleigh joked.

“Hey, now that you know I’m not the crazy person you thought I was, how about dinner sometime? Maybe after the concert?”

“I usually go out with the band.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, sometime, maybe… How ’bout Sunday? You don’t leave again for two weeks. The Vancouver show.”

“Well… weren’t you leaving?”

He pointed to his throat. “Taking those pain pills. You were right-they’re pretty heavy duty. Probably better if I don’t do any long-distance driving. I’m back in the rental for a few days.”

“Oh, sure, you have to be careful.” They were at her SUV. “Okay, thank you again, Edwin. For everything you did. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

She nearly hugged him and kissed his cheek but decided not to.

XO…

“‘I’d Do It All Again,’” he said, smiling. The title of one of her first hits. Kayleigh laughed. After a moment he said, “Hey, here’s a thought: I could drive up to Canada. Vancouver’s not that far from Seattle. I know some great places. There’s this beautiful garden in the mountains, where-”

She smiled. “You know, Edwin, it’s probably best if we don’t get together. Just… I think it’s best.”

A grin crossed his face. “Sure. Only… well, after everything, I just thought…”

“It’s probably best,” she repeated. “Goodbye, Edwin.” She extended her hand.

He didn’t take it.

“So… you’re breaking up with me?” he asked.

She started to laugh, thinking he was joking-like his reference to the flowers in the hospital last night. But his eyes narrowed, focusing on hers. And the smile morphed into the one she recognized from before. The faint twisting of his lip, fake. “After everything,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Okay, you take care,” she said quickly. And gripped her key fob, unlocking the door.

“Don’t go,” he said in a breathy whisper.

Kayleigh looked around. The parking lot was deserted. “Edwin.”

He said quickly, “Wait. I’m sorry. Look, let’s just take a drive and talk. We can just talk. Nothing more than that for now.”

For now. What did he mean?

“I think I should go.”

“Just talk,” he said stridently. “That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned fast but Edwin stepped quickly forward, boxing her in. “Please, I’m sorry. Just a little drive.” He looked at his watch. “You don’t have to be at the concert hall for six hours and thirty minutes.”

“No, Edwin. Stop it! Get out of my way.”

“You like men who talk, remember your song, ‘You Never Say a Word’? That’s not me. Come on. You liked talking to me at the restaurant just now.” He gripped her arm. “That was so much fun. The best lunch I’ve ever had!”

“Let go of me!” She tried to push him away. It was like trying to move a sack of concrete.

He said ominously, “You understand I was almost killed.” He pointed to his neck. “I was almost killed saving you! Did you forget that?”

Oh, Jesus Lord. He shot himself. Alicia was innocent. He set her up. Edwin killed Bobby, he killed Alicia! I don’t know how but he did it.

“Please, Edwin…”

He released her, relaxed and looked contrite. “I’m so sorry! Look, this isn’t going well. Here’s the thing, you need a place to stay. The fire at your house. You could stay with me until it’s fixed.”

Was he serious?

She spun around and tried to bolt. But his massive hand went around her face and pinched hard. An arm gripped her chest and squeezed as he dragged her to the back of his Buick and opened the trunk. The struggle for air became more and more hopeless. As her vision crumbled to black, she heard-she believed she heard-a voice, singing in a whisper, “Always with you, always with you, your shadow…”

KATHRYN DANCE DIDN’T play coin toss with the phone.

She decided to be an adult about the whole San Diego Situation. She rose and hit CALL as she pitched out her Starbucks carton.