Bitter Sweets

more physical pleasures of life. Other than food, that was.

    She wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for business.

    “Brian O’Donnell?” she inquired at the desk.

    The clerk called his room, and she was sent upstairs to the fourth floor.

    “Savannah, how good to see you,” he said, practically pulling her inside the room. “Come on in.”

    Glancing around, she noted how neat and tidy the room was, considering he was a man away from home. Books and .magazines were neatly stacked on the bed stand, clothes hung, drawers closed, suitcases stashed in the closet.

    “Any news?” he asked.

    “About Lisa or Christy...no.”

    He waved her into a chair and sat tensely on the edge of the bed near her.

    “Oh.” He appeared genuinely disappointed. “I was hoping that was why you were here.”

    “I’m sorry. But I did think I should keep you apprised of the new developments.”

    His eyes searched hers. “From the look on your face, I’m almost afraid to ask. Is it bad?”

    “I suppose that depends on how you look at it. But, yes, I would say so. We found Earl Mallock.”

    “Really? That’s great! Where is he?”

    “Ah...well...at the moment, he’s in the city morgue. I’m afraid he’s dead, too.”

    “Mallock dead?” She watched his reaction closely; he didn’t seem to be any more surprised or alarmed than when he had been told that Lisa was dead. If anything, he simply appeared confused.

    “Yes, murdered. In the same manner as Lisa.”

    “But, I thought he was the one who killed Lisa. How could-?”

    “We don’t know. But we’re trying to find out.”

    “Do you think the same person killed them both?”

    “We’ll know more after the autopsy. It looks that way.”

    He sat quietly for a long time, as though absorbing the information. Savannah had to admit it was a lot to swallow; Brian had received more than his share of bad news since arriving in California.

    Standing, he shoved his hands into his slacks pockets and walked over to the window. He stood with his back to her, staring down on the freeway that whizzed by below-an infinite line of red lights going one direction and white going the opposite.

    “It’s such a weird feeling,” he said. “Knowing that someone I just spoke with not that long ago is now dead. And murdered, too. It’s just... weird.”

    “When did you last speak to Mallock?”

    “On the telephone just before I left Orlando. That was when he told me where I could find Lisa. Or, at least, he gave me an address. But as I told you before, it turned out to be fake.”

    He returned to his seat on the bed. “Oh, did I offer you something to drink? I have some juices, some ice, and-”

    “No, thanks. I can’t stay long, I just...”

    The sliding door to the closet was open and something inside caught Savannah’s eye. It was a bag that appeared to be filled with children’s clothes and a stuffed animal. Instantly, she thought of Christy and the abandoned toys in her empty bedroom, her small shirt that had been left to dry on the rocks on the Montoya Ranch.

    Brian saw that she had noticed the bag and colored slightly. “For my kids at home,” he explained. “I miss my boys. I’ve never been away from them this long. I’d better head back home soon, or I’ll go broke, buying out the gift shop downstairs.”

    “I know how you feel. I love children myself.”

    “Do you have any?”

    “No.”

    Suddenly, Savannah wanted to leave the room, leave this man whose presence reminded her of the part she had played in his loss. Besides, his love for his own family reminded her of what she had never had.

    She stood abruptly and headed for the door. “I have to get going,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you what’s been happening so far. As soon as I have other news, I’ll let you know.”

    “Maybe it’ll be good next time,” he said, offering her an encouraging smile as he walked her out the door and into the hallway.

    “One can always hope.”

    CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    The state of Dirk’s living conditions had ceased to shock Savannah years ago. She had grown accustomed to the tenby-forty-foot house trailer that sat off the road in a wooded area, called Casitas Maria, about fifteen miles east of San Carmelita. Besides, over time she had come to realize that the place wasn’t really as filthy or disorganized as it appeared on first glance.

    Although a thick layer of dust covered all surfaces and no attempts at decorating had ever