The Eye of Heaven

5

Selma was already up, the rich aroma of coffee in the air, when Sam and Remi made it down to the research level of the house, where morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Pacific’s calm blue spread before them like a lapis tapestry, and Selma was gazing out at the view.

“Good morning, Selma. How are you today? Sleep any better?” Remi asked as she poured herself a cup.

Selma turned, seemingly startled by their arrival, a troubled look on her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Fargo! No, I didn’t. I … I’m not good at some things, and I guess this is one of them …”

“Selma. What’s wrong?” Remi asked. And Sam joined her, both obviously concerned.

“I want you to promise you won’t overreact,” Selma said.

“Overreact to what?” Sam demanded, and then softened when Remi threw him a sharp look.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Selma muttered.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just grouchy in the mornings. You should know that by now. Just tell us what’s going on, Selma,” Remi coaxed.

“I’ve never said anything before, but my hips have finally gotten so bad that I have to have them both replaced.”

“Oh no, Selma. I’m so sorry to hear it,” Remi said.

Selma drew a long breath, as if steeling herself to dive off a cliff. “I went to the doctor about a week and a half ago, and they say I can’t put it off any longer.”

“Selma! Why didn’t you tell us? No wonder you haven’t been sleeping,” Sam said.

“I know I should have said something. But the timing is terrible. We’ve got so much going on, and you’re leaving in a couple of days. I just don’t want to let you down. You’re both so busy.”

“Nonsense, Selma. You’re one of the family.”

“When do they want to do this?” Sam asked.

“They’ve scheduled me for surgery in six days. At Scripps.”

“That’s one of the best in the country, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re canceling our trip to Baffin Island, or at least postponing it, until you’re back in the saddle and recovered,” Remi said, her tone firm, moving to Selma and giving her a long hug.

“Oh no. That’s exactly what I don’t want. Please, just do what you planned to do. I would feel terrible if you canceled your trip. There’s nothing you can do, anyway.”

“Yes there is,” Sam replied. “I’ll arrange for the rehab equipment you need to be set up here. You can come home directly from the hospital and we’ll find the best physical therapist. You’ll have twenty-four/seven care if I have anything to say about this.”

They were interrupted by the bathroom door closing. A young woman with a severe haircut, dyed black with shocking-red highlights, wearing black jeans and an avocado T-shirt, stood looking at them all. Selma pulled away from Remi and cleared her throat.

“I was waiting to introduce everyone. This is my niece, Kendra Hollingsworth. I asked her to come over and meet you. She’s going to be helping out while I’m … in the hospital and recovering. Kendra? Come meet Sam and Remi Fargo.”

Kendra stepped forward and shook hands with Remi and then with Sam. He noticed that she had a tattoo on her neck and on the inside of her wrist, and a small twinkling dot on her nose — a piercing.

“Nice to meet you,” Kendra said, her voice demure.

“Likewise,” Sam said with a quick glance at Remi, whose face was impassive.

“Kendra recently graduated from USC and she’s got some time on her hands, so she graciously agreed to help out,” Selma said, aware of the slight tension in the room. “I’ve known her since she was a baby and she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And an amazing talent.”

“What did you major in, Kendra?” Remi asked.

“Computer science and history, a double major. I wanted to go for mathematics as well, but it was too heavy a load.”

“That’s impressive,” Sam said.

Kendra shrugged. “Not so much, once you start looking for a decent job. At least, not in this environment. It’s either programming or going for a teaching credential — neither of which really interests me much. So I was really excited when Selma asked me to help out …”

“Have you introduced Kendra to Pete and Wendy yet?” Sam asked.

“Not yet. I was going to do it tomorrow. I wanted to give Kendra an orientation today, being as it’s quiet, Sunday and all.”

Remi moved to Sam’s side. “Selma, I want to hear more about your plans. Can you make some time to have lunch with me today?”

“Of course. I want to show Kendra how the systems are networked and take her through everything we’re working on right now. But I should be done by, let’s say … one?”

“That would be perfect. Pick a place.”

“Oh, you know me, wherever’s fine.”

“Then I’ll think of someplace special and make a reservation. Come on, Sam. Let’s leave them to it,” Remi said, and they made their way back up to the living area.

“She seems awfully young, doesn’t she?” Remi whispered as the door closed behind them.

“We were all young once, remember? As I recall, I was pretty good at what I was doing at that age.”

“Poor Selma. She looks so down. I mean, she’s putting a brave face on it, but she’s got to be in a lot of pain. I know her too well. You can see it in her eyes.”

“I know. Thank goodness she’s getting top-notch care.”

“Still, it’s … I mean, we just take for granted that she’ll always be here helping us. And then something like this happens …”

“See what you can glean at lunch. And stay positive. Attitude’s important. Oh, and of course tell her that whatever she needs, no matter what, she’s got it. Any treatment, any physical therapist, wherever in the world … whatever. All she has to do is say the word.”

“I will. Knowing Selma, the biggest hurdle will be keeping her from coming back to work too early. You know how she loves it.”

“I do, but Pete and Wendy are no slouches. Between them all, things will be fine. Plus, it’s not like we’re going to need tremendous support charting glacier shrinkage. It’ll be about as exciting as … well, watching ice melt.”

Remi walked to the open sliding glass doors and paused at the threshold, a light ocean breeze caressing her hair. “What’s with the tattoos?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s the thing these days. Seems like everyone’s got them.”

“I just hope she’s … stable.”

Sam joined her and put his arms around her, hugging her from behind. “Maybe that was her act of rebellion in college. We all had our share. Remember?”

“Speak for yourself. I was a good girl.”

“You still are. The best. You just don’t have particularly good taste in men.”

“I’m willing to overlook your faults. Besides, you smell good.”

“You got me this cologne for my birthday.”

She turned and sniffed his chest, and then gave him a long kiss, before pulling back and looking deeply into his eyes. “Score one for the lady.”

That night, Remi and Sam enjoyed dinner at the Valencia Hotel, just down from their house, the appetizer of fresh calamari and an entrée of blackened bluefin tuna as good as any they’d tasted. Sam ordered a bottle of 201 °Cobos Reserve Malbec, which was the perfect accompaniment for the fish, complementing its powerful spice-and-pepper seasoning with rich currant and chocolate notes. Conversation revolved around Selma, her upcoming operation, and their misgivings about having to leave on Tuesday morning after only two full days at home.

“Remind me not to pack our schedule this densely next time around,” Sam said as they watched the surf break on the beach before pulling at its sand in a never-ending rinse-and-repeat cycle.

“It’s not all your fault. I agreed, remember?”

“So it’s your fault! After all, you’re supposed to be the brains of the outfit.”

“I must have missed that memo, Mr. Cal Tech Inventor Guy.”

“Hey, we all get lucky once in a while.”

After Sam paid the check, they meandered through the hotel lobby’s oversize mission-style doorway and up the street to the path that cut across the lawn to their house. On the road in front, a figure in a dark sedan focused a telephoto lens and took a series of photos of the couple, their silhouettes framed against the night sky, illuminated by a full moon.

Sam slowed for a moment and leaned into Remi as his eyes roamed over the street to their right. “Don’t be alarmed but I think we’re being watched.”

“From where?” Remi asked, her voice low as she continued to match Sam’s pace.

“I can’t be sure, but I thought I saw movement in one of the cars on the road.”

“That could be anything. Young lovers. A dog. Someone getting ready to start their car or lock it.”

“All true. But usually by this hour, the area’s shut down for the night.”

“So what’s your game plan?”

“You stop, throw your arms around me, and kiss me, with you facing the ocean. That will give me a chance to scope out the street.”

“Is this some tricky maneuver to get your way with me?”

“I think you’ve seen most of my moves by now.”

“That’s what you always say and then you produce a new one.”

“Kiss me, you gorgeous creature. Now, before I’m another minute older.”

Remi stopped, turned, and, stretching up on her tiptoes, she threw her arms around Sam’s neck.

Sam scanned the few cars parked along the sidewalk and spotted the sedan. Moonlight caught the camera lens, which glinted as it moved, confirming his suspicions.

Remi broke from her kiss when Sam squeezed her waist, and they began walking again, now a short way from their house.

“I saw something, possibly a lens, reflecting light, in one of the cars. The good news is that it isn’t fixed to a rifle.”

“How do you know?” Remi asked, suddenly serious.

“Because we’re both still alive. The not-so-good news is that someone’s definitely watching us.”

“That’s alarming. I wonder why? Could it be autograph hunters or something?”

“Very funny. Let’s get inside and check to make sure the security systems are on. Then I’ll go for a little walk and see if I can straighten out whoever it is.”

“Why don’t we just call the police?”

“And say what? That I saw something shiny in one of the cars? How seriously do you think that’ll be taken?”

“I guess you’ve got a point,” Remi conceded.

“Even a broken clock’s right twice a day.”

Selma had already retired when they entered the house, and after double-checking all the sensors and the alarm from the central control panel Sam deactivated the door on the side of the garage and slipped out into the night. The street was quiet, the only sound the crashing of waves on the rocks at the tip of Goldfish Point and the distant hum of traffic from Torrey Pines Road. Sam crept on rubber soles around the first parked vehicle and made his way to where the watcher was parked, keeping below the level of the windows just in case.

When he was almost to the sedan, his heart sank. There, in front of him, was an empty parking space, seven cigarette butts on the asphalt the only indication anyone had been waiting there.

Sam stood up straight, hands on his hips, and stared down the street.

The car was gone.