Brit relaxed on the neck rest and turned to look at his partner. “Women? And why they smell so good—taste so good?”
Laughing, Quarles reached for his bottled water. “No, I’ve got that mystery figured out. But I think you’ve got more of a show going on in your head than Wolowitz does on the television.”
Brit grinned. “Well, someday you’ll have to explain the mystery to me, because women baffle the hell out of me.”
“Someday, I will.” Quarles stiffened when a car pulled up.
Brit gripped the wheel and studied the driver as the car rolled by. “It’s not him,” Brit spoke into the radio.
“What puzzles me,” Quarles continued, “is why Humphrey didn’t do something worse to Garcia or the hotel clerk. Or you, the night at Cali’s mom’s house.”
Brit ran a hand over the steering wheel. He’d wondered about that, too. “Maybe he got rid of the gun.”
“The hotel clerk was before Garland’s shooting.”
“Maybe he didn’t want the noise?” Cold air snaked through the vents of the car. Pulling his thin coat a little closer, he missed his leather jacket, and made a mental note to ask Cali for it.
“Okay. So where’s the knife he used at the hotel?”
Brit sat up. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking Humphrey isn’t our man.”
“No. I’m just hoping like hell that when we snag him, he has both weapons on him.”
“He will.” Damn it, this conviction had to stick. The message he’d heard on Cali’s recorder replayed in his head. The man had told Cali he loved her. Cali wasn’t Humphrey’s to love. Not that Brit felt up to the challenge. The word “love” generally came with a serious commitment, like marriage. Sure he wanted Cali, wanted her in his life, but— “Tell me about Susan.” Quarles, as if tired of sitting, repositioned himself and his knees popped.
Brit eyed Quarles’ profile. The more he got to know his new partner, the less he minded the idea of him and Susan seeing each other. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything, everything.” He paused. “She said something that led me to think you two had a stormy childhood.”
“I don’t think stormy quite describes it.”
“So it wasn’t that bad, huh?” Quarles sounded relieved.
Brit’s inside clinched. If he didn’t feel Quarles needed to know for Susan’s sake, he’d keep the subject to himself. “It was worse than stormy. Our dad was a drunk. A mean drunk and a part-time criminal. Hell, he was mean even when he was sober. Mom was his doormat. She laid down to clean his shoes on her every chance she got. Susan and I tried to stay invisible. When I got big enough to stand up to him, I stopped being invisible.”
Quarles raised an eyebrow. “That must have been hard. I have great, well, a little too worrisome, but good parents. I can’t imagine how that would be.”
“You live through it. It teaches you things.” Things like avoiding serious relationships. Which explained why his feelings for Cali felt like a pair of shoes a couple sizes too small. Could he make this work? Or was he setting both of them up for a world of trouble? .
“Did Susan date a lot?” Quarles asked. “I mean before the blow-up doll freak.”
“She had lots of boyfriends before that guy. Things just didn’t work out.”
“Why not?” Quarles’ question came out low.
Brit hesitated, but decided Quarles probably needed to know. “They mostly asked her to marry them.”
A pause lingered before Quarles spoke, “Those pieces of shit.” Then he half-smiled. “And why was that a problem?”
Brit nodded. “We’ve seen marriage played out. Actually, thanks to our mom, we’ve seen many marriages played out. Like I said, if you live through it, you learn from it.”
A pair of high-set headlights pulled into the parking lot. Brit leaned against the steering wheel. Air hitched in his chest when he identified the vehicle. The truck rolled by, and Brit recognized the face from the mug shot. He reached for the radio. “It’s him.”
“We see him,” came Duke’s voice.
“And just at the good part, too,” Wolowitz’s voice came on the line. “This chick is stacked.”
“Let him get out of the truck,” Brit insisted. “He’s not getting away this time.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cali called Roberto first, needing assurance that he was okay. Then she spoke to Sara’s mother. Thankfully, the woman agreed to make an appointment with Dr. Tien. Cali tried to talk the cat into becoming friends again, but all it would do was hiss. Now, with a ham sandwich and chips in tow, she walked into Brit’s living room.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence. The house seemed to hold its breath. When the heater clicked on, she actually jumped. Normally, she didn’t mind being alone, but as she’d told Brit, nothing felt normal right now.