Chapter Three
I ris spent Sunday night lost in her photography. Sinking into a pair of deep brown eyes, surrounded by rings of brown fur in a bed of white that segued back to brown for the ears, she could almost forget the way Scott’s blue eyes had clouded just before he’d responded to her comment about Sissy. An introverted dog who was sweet, loving, loyal, eager to please and just not suited to public service.
That’s about the cruelest thing you can do to a person. Expect them to be different than they are.
She hadn’t been talking about people.
But he’d somehow thought she’d been referring to him. His comment had been so pointed, sounding emotionally driven, almost defensive.
Because of the damned kiss. A friendly peck he’d delivered at the end of a lovely, romantic, highly emotional and somewhat tough day. She’d responded like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Giving Scott a hugely wrong impression.
Working on the sky behind Lacey, the beautiful girl on the large monitor in front of her, Iris played with tinges of color, needing a softer tone to fully complement the warm soul of the King Cavalier. To make clear to the viewers the things Lacey had seemed to be saying to her as the canine had gazed into Iris’s lens that afternoon .
Maybe she could capture a photo of her own essence. Mail it to Scott. And transport them back to reality. Prekiss.
Because nothing had changed. Would ever change. Could ever change. She couldn’t promise to love and cherish, or to be someone’s everything for always. She’d done that once. And knew that life didn’t work that way. You got the present. The moment.
Nothing more. To pretend otherwise was life crushing. Permanently debilitating.
Not that she and Scott needed to get into all that. The fact that they were able to fill voids without getting into it was what made them work.
She’d found her own happily-ever-after. The one that was meant for her, that suited her, in walks on the beach. A friendly face and voice that was just there. Not waiting for her. Or expecting anything from her. But always welcoming her when she arrived.
And had assumed that Scott had found the same in her.
It wasn’t forever. That was a given.
But why lose it, if they didn’t have to yet?
They’d gone to a wedding. Been caught in some moments swirling with intense emotions. And then they’d left.
Sage’s wedding was a memory. Not a life changer.
Lacey’s gaze made everything so clear.
Because dogs didn’t bother with the vagaries of life. They lived in the moment. The only reality. Giving their best, accepting what bounties were given to them and moving to the next minute in which they did it again. All without questioning why. Or worrying about what came next.
Iris slept better that night, and, as usual, took Angel out for her walk on the beach the next day when she got home from an afternoon wandering the streets of San Diego, catching great everyday moments, as part of a job she was doing for the city’s public relations department.
And tried to tell herself that she was fine when Scott didn’t show up for their after-work sojourn.
* * *
Scott saw Iris on the beach. Purposely didn’t go out.
He’d had a long day in court—preliminary court hearings for a high-profile trial that was due to start the next week. He was prosecuting a woman for attempted murder after she’d sued her decorated-colonel husband for emotional distress, lost, in spite of the reams of proof of neglect that she had, was consequently sued for divorce and then hired someone to kill him before the divorce was final.
She had a team of high-priced attorneys attempting to bring in the previous civil case, with various arguments, all of which took a lot of research into former case files he could use as precedent to keep the evidence out of his trial.
He’d won some. Not all.
But the biggest loss wasn’t work related. Waiting until after dark to walk the beach left him and Morgan completely alone out there.
Without…anyone.
Granted, darkness fell early in winter months. Before six. He’d barely made it home before the sunset. Dale, Harper, some of the occupants of other cottages on the beach, weren’t even home yet. They’d all be out yet that night.
And it wasn’t any of the others he was missing.
It was Iris. Who he’d purposely avoided.
She’d let him. No expectations kind of required that. There were no strings attached.
Morgan, trotting beside him, stopped to do her business as usual. In his shorts, tennis shoes and long-sleeved pullover, he picked up after her as usual, too. Lobbed the bag into one of the disposal bins installed along the beach just for that purpose. His girl watched, looking to him for her entertainment since he’d robbed her of playtime with her best friend. She didn’t seem to mind.
But then, she was a bit of a minimalist. Just happy to be. Grateful to have a human come home. To have food and water. She didn’t waste a lot of time worrying about things she couldn’t control.
Scott tried to learn by her example. Walked with her. Ran with her some. And didn’t feel any better at all.
The emptiness inside him was his fault. His mistake to fix.
Because there was every possibility his actions had affected someone else, too. He’d made no promise to be out on the beach that night. Or any night.
Wouldn’t make one.
But to deliberately stay away…that wasn’t right, either. Not without some kind of understanding so that she didn’t blame herself.
It was that thought, the possibility that Iris could be suffering due to his choice to let that damned kiss come between them when they’d both promised it wouldn’t, that drove him to head over one more cottage after checking on his and Sage’s old place.
His sister had put it up for sale. She lived half a mile down the beach now, in the cottage Gray had bought and had renovated. There’d been a showing at Sage’s that day. Scott had stopped to check that all the lights had been turned off, and to grab the showing realtor’s card, which had been left, as was protocol, on the kitchen counter.
Not sure whether or not he’d knock on Iris’s back door—while he’d done it several times in the three years they’d been buds, it wasn’t their normal way—he was at least spared that decision when Angel came running down from the cottage toward them, her paws throwing sand up behind her in her eagerness.
Bending down to greet the girl, he saw Iris’s tennis shoes in the sand before standing again.
“Late day at work?” she asked.
“A hard one,” he told her back, diving into a more detailed account of the day than he might ordinarily have given.
Buying himself time.
He had to fix things between them.
Knew how to do it, too. Prove motive.
He just wasn’t eager to go there.
Not with her.
Not with anyone.
Ever again.
* * *
Iris hated how pubescently eager she felt, standing on the beach with Scott. She wanted to believe she hadn’t been watching for him. That she’d had legitimate reason to visit her kitchen, to glance out the window, four times since she’d come in.
But she’d learned that the only way to mental and emotional health—for her at least—was self-honesty.
She wasn’t looking for promises of a future with Scott Martin. Or anyone. But she hoped their moments in the sand weren’t done yet.
They’d said they looked for each other first when they came out at night. And were always glad to see each other.
And to that end, she needed to do what she could to put things right between them. If that meant listening to legal technicalities with which she wasn’t all that familiar—verbiage he’d never used with her before—then she’d stand there and listen .
She was an intelligent woman. Got the gist of what he was saying. Just wasn’t sure why he seemed to be quoting law textbooks rather than just talking to her.
And, hoping it wasn’t denoting a change in them, asked, “This case, is it bothering you more than most for some reason?”
Her job as close friend, as listening ear, was to hear what was said. And what wasn’t, too.
His shrug wasn’t clear to her. Was that a yes or a no?
He started to walk. As Morgan and Angel joined in, she fell in beside them. Trying to home in on the sliver of life bouncing in the moon’s beam on the waves enough to distract her from the tension suddenly tightening her insides.
“She’s guilty as hell.” Scott’s words, as lethal as they were, calmed her.
It had been a yes. It was the case bothering him.
Not her.
Or their weird sojourn at the wedding on Saturday.
“I’m going to put her away for attempted murder without the least bit of regret for doing so. She made a horrible decision, knowingly, with forethought, intricate planning. Interviewed hitmen. Jumped through hoops to pay him without a trace. The actions were clearly deliberate. And wholly wrong. Illegal on many counts.”
Iris nodded.
And waited.
There was a but there. She could hear it.
Felt invested in it.
Because he was. And she was his friend.
“But it all comes down to motive.” Scott was always about the motive. The reason that made the crime believable to a jury. He found it. And he won his cases.
“She wanted him dead. That one’s pretty clear,” Iris said, putting her hands in the pockets of the leggings she’d worn that day.
“It’s why she wanted him dead.”
Invigorated by the conversation, the fact that they were them again, she said, “Doesn’t matter. Her motive was clearly murder for hire. Those are the only charges you have to prove. You’ve got her dead to rights there.”
“The defense is trying to prove that she wasn’t in her right mind when she made those choices.”
Seemed pretty cut-and-dried to her. And Iris frowned. Wondering what she’d missed. Hating that she was still allowing worry about them to interrupt their getting back to normal. “They had to come up with something. What else was there?”
When he didn’t answer she said, “It’s a common defense, right? I’ve heard you mention it many times.”
He nodded but was looking down. Not at the dogs. Not out at the darkened beach lit only by cottage porch lights. The waves, or at her. Which would have been his usual. His feet seemed to be holding his interest.
“She…went through a rough patch. Ended up in counseling. On antidepressants for a while—”
“A lot of people struggle at different points in their lives,” Iris shot back. Interrupting him. Suffering, being on medication to regulate emotions, was absolutely not any indication of one being out of their right mind, nor did it serve as permission to commit murder.
If it had been…
Just…no.
“She lost her job. And then a second one. Crying in class. Having panic attacks. As an elementary schoolteacher, that pretty much tanked her career. Developed a type of waking coma where she’d stop talking in the middle of a conversation and just stare into space, sometimes for five minutes or more, not remembering what she was talking about when she came to. Her pysche’s way of checking out because she couldn’t cope…”
That time when he paused, Iris didn’t say a word. Scott was struggling. And had come down the beach to her.
Nothing else mattered.
“Her psychiatric staff finally determined that it was all caused by her high-profile, hugely visible husband being neglectful of her. He worked ungodly hours. Didn’t call. Missing appointments. Social engagements with her friends and family. Had at least one affair. But wouldn’t divorce her because of his image. Due to the prenuptial agreement, if she sued him for divorce, she lost everything. So she sued him for emotional distress.”
Oh, God. “And that’s the case her lawyers are bringing in.”
“Yes.”
She had no words of wisdom. Or even of encouragement. Except, “You aren’t God, Scott. You’re an officer of the court. Only one part of the vast legal system. You do your job to the best of your ability, and the rest…the outcome… You have to trust the system to make the final choice.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said then, sounding as though he had no problem with that aspect of the situation.
So, what was his struggle?
When he stopped walking, turned to her, she had a feeling she was about to find out.
And suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Motive is everything, Iris,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, and while he wasn’t touching her, it felt as though he was. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know about him, though. She stayed silent until she knew where he was going with the conversation.
“I screwed things up between us the other night. Kissing you. It has to go away.”
Her heart sank. But she rallied. “It already has.”
“Yeah, that was über-obvious last night.” His words didn’t need to drip with sarcasm for her to get his point. The tone just made the hit a little sharper.
“And tonight,” he said then, surprising her. She’d been out as normal. He’d been late getting home, but had come down the beach, just in case. Them. Completely.
“I saw you out. I stayed in.” His words hit her like a death sentence.
“I need us to be what we were,” he said then, still looking right at her.
Angel’s front paws hit her legs right before the small, cold and wet nose nudged the inside of her palm. Iris petted the top of her girl’s head but didn’t take her gaze from Scott’s. “I do, too,” she told him.
“Yet…we’re failing.”
Death, all right.
“I think that if you understand my motive for needing to keep things platonic and unencumbered between us, then you’ll be able to trust that when I say what happened the other night won’t happen again. It won’t.”
“I do trust you.”
Mostly. It was herself she was struggling with. The way she’d reacted the other night…she’d never ever have believed she’d react that way. Had never felt like that before. So, if Scott did get close to kissing her again, could she trust herself not to respond?
Or even invite the gesture?
His look, even in the darkness, was clear. They had a problem. It had to be fixed.
Motive was his solution.
Except that…she couldn’t give hers. No way was she opening up the box she’d closed. Not even for Scott. She’d moved. Reinvented herself.
“Other than the affair, I was that guy.”
For a second, she let the sound of the waves carry his words away. But they repeated, clearly, in her mind.
Frowning, Iris took a step back, but continued to watch Scott. “I don’t understand.”
“My divorce,” he said as though that explained everything.
“You want me to believe that you had a prenuptial agreement that stipulated that your wife lost everything if you divorced?” She paused, and when he just watched her, she went with the thought and said, “If you brought the money into the marriage, and she agreed to the prenup…”
Iris stopped midsentence. The prenup would be no motive for Scott’s unwillingness to take on a life companion—other than Morgan. Who was happy to sleep all day, without contact. To be fed by others when Scott couldn’t be there.
“You neglected her,” she said then, as things started to make a little bit of sense. The other night, he’d said that he wasn’t good at being someone’s everything.
“I’m married to my work,” he told her. “I have no shutoff valve. As a matter of fact, trying to rein in would make me tense, irritable and not at all the healthy guy who stands before you.”
The last was clearly tongue-in-cheek. An attempt to lighten the moment.
Iris let it pass. Studied him without a hint of a smile. Hurting for him.
And oddly, for her, too. Which made no sense.
“It’s who I am, Iris. I have to give one hundred percent, which means I can only have one priority.”
Unless his wife was equally committed to her job. Like, say, a photographer who could only live a healthy life through her lens?
The thought came. Scared the liver out of her. Until she realized she’d just been playing devil’s advocate. For his sake.
Scott had too much to give to sign his entire future away. Unlike her, he still believed in love’s happily-ever-after.
“She was unhappy and the solution you two came up with was divorce?” she asked him then. Trying to find the other side. A way to show him he could be wrong.
“I called her one night to tell her that I wouldn’t be coming home again, that I was spending one more night on the couch in my office.”
“And she gave you an ultimatum?” She got it. Completely. Everyone had their breaking point. But not everyone shared the same one.
“She told me that she wasn’t there, either. She’d moved out the day before.”
He hadn’t sensed his wife’s withdrawal? Hadn’t noticed bank charges for a moving van? Packing? A down payment on a new place to live? Hadn’t seen the millions of tears that had to have fallen before it got to that point? Or heard the desperation in conversation?
“To show you the extent of my neglect, I was completely shocked. I was served divorce papers the next day, and I’d had no idea my marriage was even in trouble.”
Because he hadn’t been there. Physically, or mentally, either.
Iris finally got it. Needing time alone to digest the pit in her stomach. The pain she felt for him.
She nodded, shrugged and, keeping her tone light, asked, “So, now that we’ve established that there’s no risk of us suddenly falling madly in love, are we okay?”
Scott’s smile distracted her from the darkness. Lit her up. “We are,” he told her.
And she wanted to believe him.