Page 69 of Operator
Callum returns and passes Violet to me. She bounces in my lap, impatient, and I sit with her on the sand so she can run it through her fingers. I have to stop the occasional sandy snack, but she’s mostly content.
“You won’t be able to find James until he wants to be found,” Callum tells him.
“I still can’t believe he had something to do with the doctor,” Peyton comments skeptically.
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions. James was loyal. I’m sure there’s an explanation.” But Callum doesn’t sound convinced.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Ignoring him, Callum says, “Besides, our best bet right now is to talk to Dean. He isn’t picking up anymore, so he’s probably in the middle of something. If I can’t get ahold of him within the next couple of weeks, we’ll try Killian.”
Ford shakes his head. “You can try, but I think he’s on protection detail for some politician. You won’t be getting very close to him anytime soon.”
“Dean it is.”
“Oh, great.”
“What’s wrong with Dean?” Peyton asks, tipping down her sunglasses.
“Only that he’s got more attitude than Ford on a good day and is Eval Knievel reincarnated.”
“He and Tate were pretty close. He blames himself for not being able to get us out of there.”
“We all blame ourselves.”
“None of you are to blame,” I say firmly. “We’re going to find out who is really responsible and make them pay.”
“For Ryan,” Ford says.
“For Ian,” Callum adds.
“For all of us.”
There’s a moment of silence where we all think about all the lives affected by one person’s greed and malice.
“I’ll keep trying to get ahold of Dean as soon as we get back,” Callum says finally.
“Good,” Peyton says definitively. “But for now, we’re going to enjoy the sun, sand, and friends. Reality can come back on Monday.”
CAL
Ford and Peyton leave Sunday night, which is also the first night for our little family in our new place. It’s not much bigger than the house in Sweet Creek, but it’s got a beautiful view of the ocean a few blocks away. And more importantly, it’s got Gwen and Violet, and that’s more than enough to make me happy.
Gwen’s sweet coos to Violet reach my ears over the sound of the waves crashing and spreading over the sand. I find them in the nursery surrounded by boxes, dancing to the soft strains of country music. Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, I just watch them.
My girls.
“Ready for bed?” I ask, causing Gwen to start and turn.
Seeing me, she smiles and nods. Violet’s eyes are already drifting closed, her long lashes brushing her cheeks. Carefully, Gwen places the baby in her crib—the only furniture in the room—and we tiptoe out so as not to wake her. The window is cracked to let in the sound of the waves, which is enough white noise to keep her asleep, at least for a little while.
I take Gwen’s hand and tug her down the hall to the master bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a little laugh.
“It’s our first night here. We have to christen the place.” I tumble her down onto the mattress. It’s bare and still on the floor because we haven’t bought a new bed yet, but neither of us care where we are as long as we have each other.
“Oh, do we?” she asks with a flirtatious smile.
