The Silent Widow

She felt torn. She’d never heard Anne this desperate before, and that was saying something. If she really had found proof that Luis was what Williams insisted he was, that would account for it. But what did she expect Nikki to do about it? On the other hand, this was Anne. Her Anne. Anne who had saved her life last night, whether she intended to or not.

I could meet her, Nikki thought. One last time.

But where, and how? The idea of turning around and driving all the way back to LA tomorrow filled her with dread. She’d only just escaped the city. Plus if Goodman found out she was back, or worse, Johnson, she’d be screwed.

Perhaps she should ask Anne to come to her instead? To drive out to the desert. But that presented its own problems. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was. And if Luis was still having Anne followed … No. It was too dangerous.

‘Be at my office at six o’clock tomorrow night,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll have Kim let you in through the back door.’

‘Not your office,’ Anne replied. ‘Luis has people watching. Your home too. And mine, and the concert hall.’

The fear in her voice made the hairs on Nikki’s arms stand on end.

Anne blurted out an address downtown. ‘It’s a warehouse in the old clothing district but it’s been empty for months. I pass it on my way to rehearsal.’ She gave Nikki instructions on how to get in. ‘Six o’clock, yes?’

‘OK,’ Nikki said reluctantly. ‘Tomorrow at six.’

With a click, the line went dead.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Strangely, Nikki woke the next morning feeling enormously better. Perhaps it was the temporary euphoria of an unbroken night’s sleep, her first in many days. The Hacienda’s cloud-soft bed had welcomed her like a lover, stinging sunburned skin and all. And though she awoke looking like a half-boiled lobster, with flakes of skin peeling painfully from her nose, cheekbones and the tops of her red-raw shoulders, her raging anxiety seemed to have gone and with it all the anger and sadness that had felt so overwhelming the night before.

How strange human emotions are, Nikki mused, as she wolfed down an enormous late breakfast of bacon frittata, fresh fruit, toast and cottage cheese, all washed down with gallons of strong Italian coffee. Her appetite was back too, apparently. And how resilient.

She no longer felt afraid of tonight’s meeting with Anne. And although the drive back to the city was an inconvenience, it would be worth it to end that fraught relationship on a solid, kind note. Plus, although no longer obsessed with the case, she had to admit she was curious about this ‘evidence’ Anne wanted to show her. If it was significant, she would find a way to pass the lead on to Lou Goodman. Then, her conscience clear, she would head back to Palm Springs and after that, who knew? Maybe Arizona. Or Utah? If she were going to lose herself, to lay low until this case was resolved, she might as well do it somewhere beautiful and wild, exploring places she’d never been before like Zion and Moab, or maybe Monument Valley.

After a morning spent reading inside, her sore face covered in soothing aloe gel, she showered, changed and headed to the reception desk.

‘I’ll be back tonight but very late,’ she told Señora Marchesa. ‘Do I need a key to the front gate?’

‘No, Dr Roberts,’ the hostess smiled. ‘Your room key works for both. Would you like me to leave a supper tray in your room?’

‘Maybe some fruit,’ said Nikki, heading out to her car. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ the older woman muttered under her breath, watching Nikki go. As soon as her car had pulled out of the gates, Señora Marchesa picked up the phone.

‘She just left,’ she whispered.

Hanging up as another guest came in, she fixed her welcoming smile back in place. ‘Buenos días, señor. Welcome to the San Miguel Hacienda. How may I assist you?’

Stopping for gas at the Exxon station right before the freeway on-ramp, Nikki reached into her purse to retrieve her wallet and ended up pulling out Williams’ letter. Suddenly all her fear and over-thinking seemed ridiculous. Right there at the pump she tore open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

A few minutes later, a worried attendant came over. Nikki was bent double, clutching the paper, tears streaming down her face.

‘Miss? Are you OK? Do you need some help?’ He touched her shaking shoulders nervously.

Nikki jerked upright and turned around, wiping away her tears.

Embarrassed and relieved, the attendant saw that she’d actually been crying with laughter.

‘I’m fine. I’m sorry!’ she said, screwing the petrol cap back on and getting back into the car, the paper still in her hand. ‘It’s … it’s an invoice.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘A bill! For services rendered!’ Nikki waved the paper delightedly in front of the man’s face. ‘The last thing he sent me, his oh-so-important message from beyond the grave? It was a bill!’ She laughed again, shaking her head.

‘OK, miss. Well as long as you’re all right,’ the baffled attendant said. In his experience, bills really weren’t all that funny. Then again, this was Palm Springs. If he had a dollar for all the crazies he ran into around here, he’d be able to pay all his bills and then some.