“Okay. Great.” I said. “See you then.”
* * *
I had several cars in the underground garage beneath the building where I lived. I called down and had the valet bring around my 1975 Mercedes 400 SL red convertible that I rarely got to drive. It was a beautiful day, so I put the top down, donned my Raybans, and drove across town to pick Claire up at her apartment. She was standing on the sidewalk waiting. When she saw me and the car, her face broke into a big smile.
“Wow, what a cool car,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat. “I didn’t know we’d be going in a convertible.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I can put the top up if you like.”
“No way,” she said, sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses. She rubbed her hands through her short hair. “I have perfect convertible hair. Let’s go!”
I smiled at her like a lovesick pup. She smiled back, then turned to strap in. I waited until she was buckled up, then put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and smiled.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so content.
Claire
We drove for nearly two hours on the interstate, heading south out of the city, then Sean took an exit that turned onto a narrow two lane country road and we drove for another thirty minutes.
For a just a brief moment, it occurred to me that Sean might have found out that I was a cop and was taking me out to the country to put a bullet in my head.
I know, I watched too many episodes of The Sopranos.
I knew exactly what he wanted to put in me and it wasn’t a bullet.
Besides, if he found out I was a cop he would have just shunned me, not killed me. I pushed the thought out of my head and settled in for the ride. I wasn’t the least bit afraid of Sean. To the contrary, with my hand resting on his on the console between us, I felt completely safe at his side.
We chatted as we drove and the more we talked, the more I grew to like him, even though I told myself not to get too close.
He’s a criminal, Claire.
He breaks the law.
You’re going to put him behind bars.
Don’t get too attached.
Focus, Claire. Focus…
Along the way, we talked about places we’d been and places we wanted to go. We talked more about our families, swapped stories about our parents and our upbringing. I noticed the respect in his voice when he talked about his dad. It was easy to tell that Sean loved Patsy O’Connor despite his crimes and shortcomings. It was also clear why he got involved in the family business when he had so many other opportunities available to him.
Sean O’Connor was a loyal Irish son. He would do anything for his father, including, I suspected, break the law.
We eventually stopped on the side of a dirt road next to a rolling field of tall grass that went on as far as the eye could see.
“This is it,” Sean said, shutting off the engine and opening his door. He came around to open my door, then extended a hand to help me out. He closed the door and we both leaned back against the car to look out over the pristine landscape. It reminded me of an oil painting I’d once seen.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head. “What do you plan on doing with it?”
“You see that hill?” he asked as he slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “I am going to build my dream home on that spot.”
I frowned at him. “Really? I thought you would probably say that you were going to build a subdivision or something and make a bunch of money off it.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll probably spend a bunch of money getting exactly what I want, but there will be no development and no neighbors. My house will be in the middle of twenty acres and the nearest neighbor will be five miles away.”
I watched his face as he talked about building his home on the hill. His eyes were animated, excited, as if he could already see the home sitting there. He told me everything he planned to do, talking with his hands.