Grave Phantoms
Page 62

A tense breath whooshed from his nostrils. He licked dry lips and swallowed hard. She understood, he had no doubt now. They looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them. The crouching beast in him stood and roared triumphantly. It was all he could do to keep the car on the road.
“Your apartment?” she asked after a few moments, almost shyly. Almost.
No. The walls were paper-thin and there was the possibility of running into Sylvia. Neither woman deserved that. Where else? They couldn’t go home. Couldn’t go to a hotel, unless she paid for the room and he sneaked up later, and damned if he was doing that. He had his pride, after all.
Where could they be alone?
Was this actually happening, after all these years?
He was driving, but not really seeing. Spinning through thoughts, but not really thinking. His mind was bright with anticipation, teetering precariously. One wrong word, and he feared he’d lose everything at once. But there were practical matters to consider. “I need to stop by a drugstore. If we hurry, there’s one that stays open late in—”
“No, you don’t.”
“Astrid—”
“I have something. I got it in Los Angeles. It’s a little rubber dome. A tiny cap. Jane told me about a doctor near school . . .” Her cheeks flamed—even in the dark car, he could see them color.
“I know what you mean.” He’d never seen one, but he’d heard about things like that. They were illegal to obtain under Comstock laws. He was surprised and impressed by her courage to seek it out. She was fearless, and he loved that.
She smoothed her dress over her lap. “Anyway. I have it in my handbag. Just in case we . . . Well, I was hoping, I guess. This was after Luke—I didn’t . . . Stars! I mean to say that, uh . . . I’ve practiced putting it in, but I haven’t used it,” she said quickly, biting her lip. “And then you wouldn’t answer my letters, and I thought I’d ruined everything, but I kept it, hoping, you know, maybe. Oh God. Why can’t I stop talking?”
He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head and smiling. “I’m happy you were hoping.”
“You are?”
“Hell yes.”
She relaxed and curled up against his side. “Where can we go?”
At that moment, Bo realized a solution to their problem.
He knew where to go.
Ten minutes later, he’d parked the Buick inside the warehouse at the pier and Astrid was doubting his vision. “Here?”
“Not here,” Bo said, helping her into her coat. “Oh ye of little faith. Put on your gloves, too. It’s going to be cold as hell.” He smiled down at her, unable to disguise his eagerness. “But I’ll warm you up when we get there.”
—
Astrid followed Bo onto the pier. The Bay wasn’t as choppy as it had been the first night she came home—the night the yacht crashed. And though water still threatened to spill over the creaky dock boards lining the warehouse, it wasn’t raining.
“Look, Bo,” she said, pointing out over the Bay. “Fog! I’d never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t be happier to see it.”
“Hm, I might just agree with you on that. Better than stormy water. Come on.”
All their crabbers, rumrunners, and trawlers bobbed in the water, asleep for the night. Bo stopped in front of a long, skinny runabout that looked like the tip of a spear pointing out of the water, sleek and long. The varnished mahogany hull gleamed in the moonlight. He removed a blue tarp near the rear that covered a two-person cockpit fronted by a low windshield.
Excitement bubbled up and mixed with the nervousness that was churning her stomach. “Where are we going?”
“Where no one will find us.” The white of Bo’s teeth showed when he smiled.
“All right,” she said, smiling back. “I’m game. Let’s go.”
Hand on hers, he helped her step inside the cramped seat. It had been nearly a year since she’d been on a boat like this. Her balance faltered, and the runabout rocked. She squealed and awkwardly settled down, slipping her legs under a wooden dash covered in round glass dials.
After Bo detached mooring lines from the pier, she felt the boat dip lower into the water with his added weight as he slid into the other side. His leg was warm and solid against hers. A turn of a key, a flip of a switch, and a pressed button started the rumbling motor. He turned on a bright fog light that shone out over the bow and cut over the dark water. Then he handed her his hat to hold on to, and just like that, they were gliding away from the pier.
A terrible exhilaration came over her as the runabout shot forward, whipping her hair around. The pungent scent of salt water filled her nostrils. Her stomach dropped. Lights of the Embarcadero blurred as Bo accelerated, steering them around the curved coastline, past piers stretching out like spokes of a wheel. Normal conversation wasn’t possible over the roar of the engine, but Bo glanced at her every so often. He looked like the boy she’d fallen for years ago—sharp cheekbones, intensely eager eyes, and a tireless enthusiasm that was infectious.
The runabout zipped through the water with its nose tilted upward as they sped north of the coast, away from the city. A quarter hour passed, maybe more, and San Francisco’s twinkling lights began fading while distant coastal cliffs to the north stood black against a purpled sky. They crossed from the Bay waters into the Pacific proper and made their way toward those cliffs, around the western side of the Marin County peninsula, and that’s when Astrid knew exactly where he was taking her.