“I spent two years roaming.”
“Homeless?”
“No. Roaming. Walked the Appalachian Trail. The California Coastal Trail. Buckeye Trail. Went all over North America.”
“You camped?”
“Sometimes. It’s—it’s not all clear. There was a gradual unfolding over those years. Peace came in layers. I can’t give you a coherent narrative.”
She squeezed his hand. “But you were safe.”
“Yeah. Mostly, people were afraid of me.”
She took him in. If you never saw him smile, and didn’t know how he was under the surface, Gerald was a scary-looking wall of muscle.
“And then I came to Boston. Did some work in a gym. Met my friend, Vince. He kicked my ass and told me to use my background for good. Got in with a security agency and the McCormicks hired me.”
“You like it?”
“I’m good at it.”
“That’s not the question I asked.”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t think about it much. It’s easier to keep moving and not think. That’s how I spend most of my time.”
“You still like to touch everything?”
“Is your name ‘everything’?”
They both laughed.
“Sorry,” he said, having the decency to look sheepish. “I think Andrew McCormick’s rubbed off on me.”
“Is that a work duty?”
“What?”
“Letting him rub—”
He groaned.
She reached for a quesadilla with her free hand, dipped it in sour cream, and watched him do the same.
They never let go of each other’s hands.
“Tell me the story about the relic,” she blurted out, needing clarity.
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s such a stupid story.”
The look she gave him said he had no choice but to talk.
Sighing, he conceded and said, “One of those freak moments in the field. A bombed out cave. We were checking for survivors and my hand brushed against this broken wooden box. Kulli saw it, too.”
“What?”
“Right. I palmed the relic and shoved it in my pocket before he could see it. He grabbed the broken box and found some other, smaller artifact in there. Went on about how much he could make on the black market. I kept my mouth shut.”
“Wise of you.”
“And then he went on for the next few weeks about some damn curse.”
“Curse?” Norm Phelps had mentioned a curse when he’d met with her about the case. Norm was about as rational as any human being could be.
So was Gerald.
A creeping sensation took over the back of her neck.
Gerald shook his head, finishing a mouthful of food, then taking a swallow of water. “Yeah, curse. I thought he was full of shit at the time, but now...” A haunted look met her inquiring gaze. “Now I wonder.”
“You think you’re cursed?”
He shrugged.
She smirked.
“And you got the relic into the United States and into Harold Hopewell’s private collection...how?”
“The smuggling was easy.”
“I can’t believe you’re throwing these words around so easily. Smuggling an ancient artifact, Gerald! You! You wouldn’t jaywalk when I knew you,” she joked.
“Kulli would have sold it off. I knew the relic had to be – well, anyhow. I covered the relic in modeling clay, made it look like one of my own pieces, and brought it home during a trip home when my mother was sick.”
“And that’s that? How did Hopewell get it?”
“I have no idea. I found one of my old art teachers, who knew someone at an art and antiquities dealer, and they promised it would go to someone who would preserve it and appreciate it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I had no idea it went to Hopewell. None.”
She let it all sink in.
Kulli and the black market. Gerald violating so many laws. A cursed relic. Harold Hopewell.
And Gerald, holding her hand, looking at her like she was the most precious object in the world.
“Thank you,” he said after some time, both of them having abandoned their half-eaten plates, a shot of tequila for him, a pineapple cosmo mostly drained in front of her. They’d let go of each other’s hands and sat now, contemplating the past few hours, finding them wanting.
“For what?”
“For being willing to see me. To come to this late lunch.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You’re my client.”
“You always have a choice.” He reached for her again, and this time, the implication was clear.
Choose him.
Choose now.
“What am I choosing, Gerald? What is this? Because I’m not going to sleep with you and go back to pretending this didn’t happen.”
“I’m not asking that of you.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You really have changed. Cocky Gerald would never admit to his inadequacies.”
“I said nothing about being inadequate. I said I didn’t know. Big difference.”
“True. What don’t you know?”
“Where I stand. I left you.” He shrugged.
Suzanne fought the urge to pull her hand away.
“I dumped you. I wasn’t thinking rationally. The sad part is that I was so sure that my logic was impeccable. Leaving you meant I would make you avoid the pain of being with me. Forcing you not to be around me made sense. If you weren’t near me, you couldn’t be in my sphere of influence. I was rescuing you from me.” His eyes turned down at the corners.