The heartbeat in Wyatt’s nostrils began to wane. He stuffed his nose with tissues. Head against the surface of his desk, he let it rest. “Whan are you doon ’ere?’”

“You screwed up my op.”

“Tanks to myn bonss.”

Stuart laughed. “Thanks?”

Wyatt sat back up and pulled out the tissues. “Talk to my boss.”

“I did. He blames your team.”

“He told me to hire them.”

“I know.” Stuart laughed again. “I’d have done the same.”

“Then why?” Wyatt asked. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s been a long time.”

“Nearly sixteen years.”

“What happened, man? Why have we spent half our lives doing the same thing yet with no sense of partnership?”

“You know the answer to that,” Wyatt said.

Stuart leaned forward in his chair. “Julie and I divorced four years ago.”

Didn’t know you were married to her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Stuart leaned back again. “No big deal. It was three years. We’d met up at a bar one night, kinda hooked up, moved forward fast and married. I was ready to ditch her ’bout a month in. She actually put in for the divorce.” He waved a hand as if he didn’t really care. “She’s an idiot, just like you always said-well not said, but we all knew in high school. Think I might have been reliving my youth. Stupid overall decision on my part.” Stuart’s ramblings continued without pause. “Thank god we didn’t have kids. Can you imagine? I mean, me and Julie? With this job?”

Wyatt shook his head. “You come for small talk, Stuart?”

“No.” He stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced in Wyatt’s office. “I need your help.”

Lovely.

“I messed up the op in Montreal. We lost the connection when Kevin woke up in bed with both Candie and me.”

Wyatt smiled at the memory of how he’d set them up. “So the punch was for that?”

Stuart laughed. “Yeah. I owed you that one. Now we’re even.”

“What do you need help with?”

He stood behind the chair, hands on its back. “I want to work wi-I mean, for you. They want to can me over the screw-up. I’ve not been happy for a few years in my department, and our brief reunion brought back a lot of memories.”

“Not all the memories are good.”

“What do you want from me? An apology? Which I already provided, I should add.” He pointed an accusatory finger in Wyatt’s direction. “You want money? I got plenty of that, with the exception of Julie’s alimony. The woman is a real bitch.”

Wyatt shook his head.

“What then? What can I do to make up for sixteen years of lost friendship?”

“Tell me about Charley.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Stuart threw his hands up in the air. “I already told you what you wanted to know.”

“You told me she was Mira. How did you learn that?”

“I tailed her. That was all. I followed Leena-Lily-to the airport that next day.”

“Not in South America?” Wyatt noted the shock in Stuart’s eyes. He’d slipped.

“No, before. But, I did catch up with her in South America, and that was accidental.”

“Then where did they go?”

Stuart hesitated. “In South America?”

“No. That next day. You didn’t tell me then, did you? For six weeks, I tried to find her-for six weeks! You joined the Army, up and left me to look on my own. My best friend-the guy who I’d been there for. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. You gave up on me, Stuart. You gave up.”

“I’m sorry, man. Everyone told me it was in your best inter-”

“Oh cut the crap, Stuart. You were my friend. My friend. Not everyone else’s. Who were you to decide what I should or shouldn’t know?”

Stuart hung his head-the same familiar, despondent way he used to.

“So tell me now. Tell me everything you know about Charley.”


***

Wyatt drove the familiar roads with Stuart in the lead. Why he’d agreed to go, he didn’t know. Between Stuart and his Mom, he’d been suckered into it. Wyatt opted to take his own car for an easier getaway, should he need it-which he expected he would.

At first, he’d been downright pissed. He’d thrown his favorite mug into the wall where it shattered and gouged a hole he’d have to patch later. Sheila had run from her desk but left in a huff when she’d seen the mess. He’d be damned if he’d admit any curiosity.

The ride up Turner Point hadn’t changed. Only a few houses clung to the harsh grade of curved asphalt. He knew the one at the top to be the most prominent and beautiful-it always had been.

Torn with memories, Wyatt punched the gas pedal, braking hard when he got too close to Stuart’s SUV. He groused how his friend’s vehicle should have been able to handle the mountainous landscape better than his Mustang, though if he’d been in front, he’d have taken the curves far too fast to burn off some of his anger.

Stuart had told him what happened years before but not how he’d gotten involved again. What Wyatt hadn’t understood, he’d ask, and he’d damn-well get answers. He didn’t care if they accomplished the purpose of their visit or not; he had his own mission. If Stuart really wanted a job, Charley’d best be completely and absolutely honest. He’d leave Stuart to set the guilt trip if he had to.

The crawled pace around the curves stoked Wyatt’s pent-up frustration. He knew his friend did it on purpose, but to pass would be a death sentence.

Wyatt honked and pulled out his cell.

Stuart picked up in one ring.

“There’s a mile left. Winter will be here before we get up there.”

“You done ranting and raving back there? ’Cause I told you where we’re going, and I will not be the reason you pick a fight with big and bigger.”

The nicknames fit James and Cael, though he and Stuart had gotten closer, if not quite as tall. “No, and I won’t until I get some real answers, so move it!” He pressed the ‘off’ button. “Damn phone! I can’t slam it, or it’ll break!” He yelled through the window as his fingers gripped the wheel tighter.

As they wound their way to the house, good memories lay in rest as if buried under the rubble of an earthquake. The house glistened under the sunlight and reflected blue sky. He knew why they’d chosen the spot at the top-they could see everywhere-as free and open as a bird in flight and yet contained, with no neighbors in sight.

He and Mira, or rather Charley, shared so much in one night’s kiss and yet so little.

The wheels crunched gravel as they made their way from road to driveway. Wyatt’s heartbeat sped up in anticipation. What would she say to him? How would she react? She’d be pissed. She’d be shocked. Big and Bigger would probably come to her rescue as they always seemed to do, or at least James would.

Wyatt took a deep breath and steeled himself as he stepped from within his car onto the driveway. Stuart walked back to him.

“Can you handle this, man?” Stuart asked.

“You’re asking your future potential boss if he can handle a situation?”

Stuart shook his head. “If that’s how you’re gonna play it, I can get hired on elsewhere.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Maybe that would be a better idea. “I already put in the departmental paperwork. It’s me or some assignment in Alaska.” Wyatt slammed his car door, and together they finished the forty-foot walk to the porch.

Stuart hesitated, one finger above the bell. “Ready? ’Cause they are only expecting me.”

“I’m ready.”

The quiet ding-dong hadn’t changed in sixteen years.

James appeared within the frame, stiffened.

“I know what you’re thinking, James,” Stuart said. “But all this mystery crap has got to stop.”

“It’s your funeral,” James said. He turned to Wyatt. “And yours, too, if you mess with her.”

Stuart stepped through as if he’d been a part of their lives for years-right over the threshold and into the same entry in which Wyatt had found himself before.

James shifted, letting Wyatt by, but turned to him before he could pass, extending a hand outward. “Thank you for coming.”

Wyatt didn’t have time to think of a witty response. “You’re welcome.” He shook James’s hand. That was odd.

James led the way through the entrance where new artwork plastered the walls. Wyatt recognized the signature in the corner of each one. Charley. It dawned on him he had a piece of her work. With one hand, he slapped his forehead.

Stuart stopped and turned. “What?”

Wyatt pointed to the name. “Charley.”

“Yeah. So?”

“She gave me one of her pieces the night she left-on my birthday. I have it at my house.”

Stuart shrugged. “Probably worth something if you want to sell it.”

No way. It’s the only thing that’s real these days. Wyatt shook his head.

Warm and inviting, the open loft with beams crisscrossed the ceiling and gave it a contemporary look but still a very homey feel-the same as it had been.

Lily and Cael sat together on the couch. A pixie-like woman lay with her head in Lily’s lap, bundled in a blanket, her eyes closed, breathing at a calm pace.

Charley had her back to them as Stuart sauntered into the kitchen.

From the back, if he let his mind clear, he could see his Mira in her: the shape of her hips, the length of her legs and the curls-though the color in no way matched. He tried to remember as Charley turned and caught him in mid-stare.

“Hello, Mira.” He held his expression as flat and unemotional as he could.

She gasped but recovered, shot a glance toward Stuart, James, Cael, and Lily before she turned back to him. “I didn’t expect you, Wyatt.”

“I brought him.” Stuart returned from the kitchen, an apple in hand. “Gonna be my boss,” he said between bites.

Charley drew in a deep breath and let it go, but the hint of a smile threw Wyatt.

What exactly is Stuart’s relationship with them?