Past Sins. Debra Webb
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and a red baseball cap. I’ll find you.” At that time of night the pier would be pretty much deserted.
“I guess I can do that.”
“Don’t forget the sneakers and the retainer fee.”
“I’m…I’m not sure on that last part. I didn’t get a clear idea of your fee.”
She blinked, suddenly uncertain what to say to that. She remembered well the going rate three years ago, but that would have changed by now.
“Ten now, fifteen later. Nothing larger than a twenty.”
Olivia didn’t wait for his acknowledgment. She closed her phone, ending the call.
She stared at the compact device for an endless moment. What had just happened here? Confusion cluttered her thinking process. Too many questions filled her head. No answers.
Doing a three-sixty right there on the sidewalk she surveyed her quiet neighborhood. The smell of freshly mown grass lingered in the air. Somewhere down the street a dog barked. Two houses to the right of hers the owner paused in his shrub pruning long enough to wave. Children balanced on their skateboards on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
Nothing had changed.
She stared at her brick home with its clean, crisp coat of white paint…her silver Audi…Jeffrey’s blue Saturn…the lush, colorful landscape all around her. This was her life. She and Jeffrey were supposed to be having dinner. Then they would watch a little television and go to bed. Maybe they would have sex, maybe they wouldn’t. And tomorrow everything started over again. Work. Home. Sleep. Uncomplicated. Safe.
Her gaze dropped to the phone in her hand.
Until thirty seconds ago.
“Can’t you at least have your dinner before you go?”
Jeffrey watched from the bedroom door, none too happy that she had to leave so abruptly.
“You’ll probably be there most of the night,” he pressed. “Even practicing psychologists need to eat, Olivia.”
She pulled the lightweight black sweater over her head and tugged it down her torso to cover the waistband of the black slacks she’d chosen. “I’ll be fine, Jeffrey. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up something at the hospital cafeteria.”
He continued to loiter in the doorway, looking unsettled and uncertain as to whether he should attempt to come up with a more compelling argument. “You’ll call when things calm down?” The way his posture relaxed told her he’d resigned himself to the inevitable.
It didn’t happen often, but occasionally one of her patients would do something radical like take a few too many pills just to make someone believe he or she had intended suicide. The attention received was the point. Episodes such as those were the rare occasions when Olivia had to attend to a patient in the hospital.
She ushered a smile across her lips for Jeffrey’s sake as she stepped into a comfortable pair of black flats that, fortunately, had rubber soles. “Of course I’ll call.” He always worried about her.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
Olivia waited until he’d had sufficient time to get back to the kitchen before she returned to the walk-in closet. She closed the door and moved to the back of the closet. Dropping to her knees she dragged out several shoe boxes until she encountered the one stashed at the very back of her side of the closet, behind all the others. The one she hadn’t touched in three years.
Her respiration slowed as she removed the lid of the box. Her fingers wrapped around the sturdy butt of the Beretta 9mm. She tested its weight. Her pulse reacted. Without hesitation she snapped in a clip and tucked the Beretta into the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. She grabbed the sound suppressor and an additional fifteen-round clip before putting the box back into place behind the others.
With the accessories slipped into the right pocket of her favorite black silk jacket, she pulled it on. Though southern California nights could get pretty damn cool, the jacket was more to camouflage her weapon than for comfort. She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and took a deep, steadying breath.
She hadn’t fired a weapon in thirty-seven months. Hadn’t participated in a covert maneuver in even longer.
She had to be out of her mind to go through with this.
But what choice did she have?
Whoever had given out her number—whoever knew she was still alive—had to be ferreted out and contained. She couldn’t pretend this away. Sheara had far too many enemies to take that route.
Olivia was at the front door before she considered that she couldn’t simply leave without saying goodbye. Jeffrey had to believe this was a routine call-in for a patient who’d been admitted to Cedars-Sinai’s psych ward for observation after a possible suicidal episode. The one or two other times she’d had to do this would serve as proper reasoning for her inability to offer a time she could be expected back home.
If she came home…
Jeffrey blew out the candles as she approached the dining room. He’d already cleared their plates and the basically untouched salad and entrée he’d gone to so much trouble to prepare.
“I’ll call you later to let you know how it’s going.” She told herself the statement was about consideration for his feelings. Work he could understand, even if it intruded at an inopportune time. But if she were totally honest with herself she’d admit that she’d gone this extra step to ensure he didn’t grow suspicious. The habit was deeply ingrained.
Just like old times. How many lies had she told to the people in her former life’s orbit? She’d have lied to her own mother had she not been long deceased. Her past life had been built on a careful framework of deception. Lies were all that had kept her alive.
She suppressed the shudder that rocked her insides.
“I’ll warm something up for you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Jeffrey.”
She had to go. Telling him not to wait up was pointless. He would…he always did.
As she walked out the front door and down the paved path to her car, all six senses alert to her surroundings, she couldn’t help thinking that nothing would ever be the same again.
Her new life was over.
The only question was…why?
The drive to Santa Monica took only forty-five minutes. Traffic was light. She didn’t hurry. She had plenty of time. Arriving early would afford her the opportunity to find a reconnaissance position.
The night security would be lurking about, but it wasn’t unusual for people, tourists in particular, to come to the pier at night to enjoy the moonlight on the water.
The park rides, the shops and the restaurants would all be closed by midnight but there would be plenty of lighting. She would need to take great care in selecting her position. If terminating this guy became necessary, she didn’t want any witnesses.
As darkness descended fully and the crowd thinned, Olivia took a position between a closed fast-food tourist trap and a bait and tackle shop. The smell of overcooked hot dogs and frying oil lingered in the air.
During the day, the pier was crowded with locals as well as tourists. As midnight approached, only a lone soul or two lingered on the massive wooden pier. A few others walked along the beach.
Olivia waited in the shadows, analyzing anything that moved. She saw her target’s arrival from a considerable distance as he passed under a light en route from the parking area to the wide planked boardwalk. Khaki shorts, white T-shirt and red baseball cap, just as she’d requested.
She couldn’t make out his face yet. He strolled along somewhat hesitantly as if this might have been his first visit to the pier or maybe he was just