Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 26

Sixty, fifty, forty. Rivers would have taken the Nissan to five miles per hour on Pacific Highway if he could have. A fully charged Nokia rested on the passenger's seat with no missed calls or voice messages.

Three days after Samuelgate, no one had gotten in touch. Of course, the CID couldn't start an investigation until Rivers was back from leave. Still, he and Captain Adaway had a professional bond strong enough to warrant a heads up for something of that caliber. And if he scuttlebut had spread through the grapevine, wouldn't have Ben called to see what the hell was going on?

Like thunder on a sunny day, River's Nokia rang loud, piercing through Prodigy. He glanced at the green screen—Leah.

With a deep breath, Rivers brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Rivs. Where are you?" The withheld urgency in her tone grew a lump in his throat. "Ri-Ri?"

He turned down the volume, taking the exit onto Barnett Avenue. "Uh... just getting to the base now." He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. "Why?"

"Cause I miss my best friend. I thought you could come for dinner if you were nearby?"

Rivers pulled by the side of the road outside Gate 2, his stomach in a tight grip. Leah was never so obvious in her intentions and she hated talking on the phone; on a regular day, she would show up at his door uninvited. Or more likely, he'd never had a reason to be paranoid.

"Is everything OK?"

Silence filled the microphone for an unnerving second too long before Leah killed it with a sigh. "Yes, yes, of course. I just... I have to tell you something."

If she's heard anything, she wouldn't drag it for so long. Right? She would just warn him and let him deal with it.

"Is Ben there?"

"Ben? No..." The answer came with a frown of its own. "He's still in LA. He could have moved there for all I know."

Excellent.

"OK. I'll be at yours in thirty. I'll bring pizza."

Rivers made a U turn outside the gate, prompting a wave of admonition from the private on guard. But instead of acknowledging him, Rivers sped away from the base.

Everything was under control. Even if Samuel had snitched, the news didn't seem to have leaked just yet, which made it easier to contain the damage. After all, it was Samuel's word against his own.

He merged into Pacific Highway again, heading for Downtown San Diego. If only Eddie could still work his magic on him. A simple squeeze of the hand would have calmed his racing heart; it was all it took and all they would be allowed in this universe—a fantasy world crafted on conventional laws so flimsy that a display of love between two men threatened to burn it to the ground.

The Nissan reached seventy and flashed by the other hostile cars, complicit in that tragedy, a black Dodge with a Navy bumper sticker looking guiltier than the others. Rivers chased it close, pressuring it until it moved to let him through as a victor.

Sugar, you gotta chill the fuck out. Eddie Cricket was correct, as usual.

Slowing down to thirty, Rivers took a left onto W Laurel Street that lead him straight to Little Italy's northern limit. Despite the myriad of authentic places to pick from, La Madonna was his and Leah's ultimate favorite. Their soft-doughed, crunchy-crusted, greasy-based, fresh-topped pizza was life-changing. If Rivers was about to go down, this would as sure as hell be his last meal.

Two burning cartons of Margherita heavy, he drove the six blocks into Bankers Hill to Leah's condo. The sun had lost its afternoon intensity, settling on a timid glow above the Pacific that turned the evening into brown sugar.