The Scent of a Lie

CHAPTER ONE

Sausalito, CA

Friday morning

June 7, 2013

Kat Beck blew into Caffe Ricetti, prepared to grovel. She slalomed through the packed tables and, stifling a yawn, slid into the only unoccupied chair, mid-apology before her butt hit the seat. “Sorry. I’m unforgivably—”

“Forty-five minutes late. Yeah, I know.” Anna’s eyes didn’t leave her phone. “Your espresso’s cold, and I had to kill three people to hold that seat.”

“Cold coffee is still coffee, and you’re my hero.” Kat downed the double in a single gulp, relaxing as the caffeine smoothed her rough edges. “Look at you in vintage Chanel. Court day?”

Anna looked up, dark eyes cold as a district attorney cross-examining a witness. “Casual Friday?”

Kat ran her fingers through her unkempt crop-cut in a vain attempt to tame it. Not a good time to tell Anna the dress-casual, but otherwise anal, engineers Kat worked for had fired her—by email no less—citing “chronic tardiness.” She pulled her leather jacket across the stain on her t-shirt. “Give me most improved. Twelve minutes ago, I was naked, and my teeth were furry.”

Anna did not look amused.

“What’s up?” Kat asked.

Anna tossed her phone on the table. “You want to talk about last night?”

Kat searched her memory—what was left of it. She and Sam had met Anna at The Brass Tail. Kat suggested they do shots to spice up the Liars Dice game… Oh. “Probably shouldn’t. Not while you’re still mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

Kat raised an eyebrow.

“You’re right.” Anna pushed her chair back. “Let’s do this another time.”

“Wait!” Kat trapped Anna’s hand as she reached for her phone. “I am sorry I’m late. Say what you called me here to say.”

Anna put her free hand on top of Kat’s. “I don’t have time to plead the entire case, so here’s my closing argument.” She stared, unblinking, into Kat’s eyes. “It’s been a year and a half. Your dad died. And when you woke up six months later, everyone had moved on—or was trying to. You felt guilty for needing to mourn, so you put on a happy face. Pretended you were okay. You’re not. No amount of partying with Sam is going to change that, and there’s a limit to how much sleep you can replace with caffeine.” Her voice gentler, she went off-script. “Your hands shake almost constantly. I’m amazed you still have a job. Can you even draw a straight line anymore?”

Kat slumped in her chair, glad she hadn’t mentioned being fired. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Tequila’s not working anymore. That damn nightmare’s back with the same message on repeat—I could have prevented Dad’s death.” She took a ragged breath.

Anna’s eyes finally softened. “That’s survivor’s guilt talking. And since the body wasn’t found…”

Kat scoffed. “I knew you’d say that. But something’s not right about that night. Why was I even in the car? Dad was supposedly heading south on Devil’s Slide. Heading home. There’s no reason I’d be with him.” She grabbed a fistful of her short, unruly hair and pulled until it hurt. “I know you think I’m obsessing, but there has to be a reason I’ve lost my entire adult life, not just the night of the accident.”

The doctors had been unequivocal. There was no physical reason for her to have lost memories beyond the crash itself.

Anna looked uncomfortable. “Is JC still holding out?”

“Yep. Says I’ll remember when I’m ready.”

“JC might equate ready with sober.”

Kat sat with that for a second. Ironic that JC, a bar owner, had inherited the role of surrogate father and was worried about her drinking. “And Sam?”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “The boat, the bar, the biceps? What’s not to like?”

Kat rolled her eyes. “C’mon. He makes me laugh and loves my old-timey taste in movies and music.

Anna shrugged. “I’m just not sure he’s what you need right now. He’s not a serious person. This is the first time in months I’ve seen you without a drink in your hand.”

“Ah, I wondered why you suggested meeting at the crack of dawn.”

“Eight-thirty is not the crack of dawn.”

“Yeah, well. Getting dumped on before noon makes me sarcastic.”

Her best friend’s jaw tightened.

Kat put her other hand on Anna’s. Their four hands were now in a stack. One for all and all for one. It was going to be okay. “Sor-ry. I’ll cut down.”

“Coming through.” A heavyset guy holding two coffees above his head squeezed past, jostling Anna. She pulled her hands away from Kat’s to scoot in and left them tucked beneath her legs.

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that in the last three months?” Anna’s voice had turned sharp.

Her phone beeped underneath Kat’s hand, and Kat toyed with the idea of holding it hostage. She didn’t want Anna to leave mad. But when it beeped again, she let Anna pluck it from her unresisting fingers.

As Anna checked her messages, Kat eyed the dregs of her espresso and considered licking the cup. A tremor ran through her hand just as Anna looked up. Kat jammed the offending hand into her jacket pocket and felt tears welling. “I truly am sorry.”

“Then don’t apologize for things you don’t intend to stop doing! I have a recurring nightmare too—a tiny you, circling the drain with Cuervo Gold gushing out the cold tap and espresso foaming out the hot. You haven’t been the same since the accident, and I’m beyond worried about your behavior. Your drinking-can’t keep a job-glued to the hip with Sam-tentative-apologetic-aimless behavior. You’ve been amiable, fer chrissakes! I can’t remember the last time you got mad at me.” Anna took a deep breath. “Girlfriend, ‘I’ll do anything you ask of me except one thing.’”

Shit. Anna was quoting Etta Place when she left the Sundance Kid. The rest of the quote was, “I won’t watch you die.” Anna probably thought she was pulling her punches by skipping that part.

“I think you need to stop drinking.”

“I’m not an alcoholic!” Kat heard the whininess in her voice. “I’m just… sad.” The emptiness inside expanded, pressing against her rib cage. “And I’m angry. I don’t know why. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m mad at myself for surviving, or mad at the uncaring universe, or at Dad for dying. But none of those feels true. Why would I be going to Pacifica with him?” She was repeating herself now.

Anna touched Kat’s arm. A silent command for her to stop talking. “Until you stop drinking, our friendship is on hold.”

Those last five words were a punch in the gut. They’d been best friends since sixth grade, when Anna, then a tough-looking girl with braids to her butt, got shoved to the ground by a boy at recess. Kat persuaded the boy to apologize, sparing Anna a trip to the principal’s office because she definitely would have pummeled him. They’d had each other’s backs ever since. Saying goodbye was unthinkable.

“I’ll quit today,” she said in a small voice.

Anna’s phone beeped several times. “Dammit. I have to go. The People versus the NSA is blowing up. This sucker is either going to put me on the shortlist for partner or out on my ass.” She stood and stuck out her pinky. “I believe in you. I’ll miss you, but I miss the kick-ass, take-names version of you more, so don’t eff around.”

Kat stood and hooked pinkies with her, determined not to let her friend down.

Anna gave her a quick, hard hug and strode out of the cafe. In five-inch heels and a pencil skirt, she looked every bit the badass corporate attorney, and Kat felt as proud as if she were the one rounding another lap on the partner track. She texted,

Don’t let mine be the only ass-kicking you do today. The NSA deserves one too.

and took her empty demitasse to the copper-topped bar.

“Javier, hit me again.” She would miss the mermaid tattoo whose tail fanned out across Javier’s bicep whenever he pulled a shot. No more five-dollar coffees until she got a new job. As Kat slurped her crema, she thought of how Anna had described her—tentative, apologetic, aimless. Ouch.

Giving up tequila would not be a problem, but giving up tequila wouldn’t solve the problem either. She had to stop the nightmares that had driven her to self-medicate in the first place. Therapy hadn’t worked—tough to work through trauma she couldn’t remember. It was like that children’s story—can’t go under it; can’t go over it; can’t go around it; gotta go through it. She had to remember the night of the crash and come to terms with whatever had happened.

As she set her espresso down, the demitasse rattled against the saucer all the way to the bar. She slammed her hand over top to quiet it, and the little cup squirted out from underneath, shattering on the concrete floor.

The crash silenced the cafe for a heartbeat. Kat looked down at her hand, at her fingers fluttering like the telltales on a badly trimmed sail. Her body was telling her it was time to hit pause on her coffee habit, so why did her mind scream no?

Time and conversation resumed. Javier rushed from behind the counter with a broom and dishrag, waving off her apology. “We lose a dozen a day. Don’t sweat it.” A minute later, he placed a fresh espresso in front of her.

Kat stared at it with a dawning horror. She’d thought of coffee as a way to honor her father’s memory by holding onto their shared love of espresso. But what if she was using it to bury his death? What if—even though everyone said it wasn’t her fault—what if it was?

Suppose her coffee habit was keeping her from having to face that fact by distracting her—Miss dad. Feel bad. Have an espresso. Repeat.—Then it was no longer serving her, and she had to quit.

The darkly fragrant liquid scoffed at her.

She stared it down.

And then she drank it.

CHAPTER TWO

Sausalito Harbor

Friday night

June 7, 2013

Sam Novak, the owner of Sam’s Waterfront Bar and Grill, made his way through the tables to the bar where Kat sat, stopping several times to acknowledge patrons and friends with a killer smile. She smiled, secure in the knowledge that the athletic, sun-kissed blond restaurateur was hers.

They’d met at the boat show in Jack London Square last April. She was there to sell her father’s boat, and there he was—tall and lean, moving with an unhurried athletic grace along the dock. He stopped to chat her up. She had no idea why. She was such a mess back then. But his ready smile charmed her, and she’d laughed for the first time since her father’s death. When he quoted from one of her favorite old movies, she agreed to go sailing with him.

Since then, despite what Anna said, Sam had been more than a good time. What had started as a distraction from grief turned into something meaningful. He’d rocked her back to sleep more than once from her night terrors. Gently suggested she cut down on coffee. Too gently. She’d needed Anna’s swift kick in the teeth. She wanted her old self back.

“Hey babe.” Sam swooped down to kiss her with just enough tongue to light up other parts of her body. “We can get out of here in a few. Just waiting on Kevin to close out the cash drawer so I can close the safe.”

“Hey you.” She scrunched up her face. “Sorry to spring this last minute. I’ve gone cold turkey on booze and—wait for it—caffeine. It’s been twelve hours since my last espresso. Ι understand if you’d rather not be trapped on a boat with the complete witch caffeine withdrawal will turn me into. But if you can handle it, getting offshore would help.”

Sam’s brilliant smile burned away any hesitation she’d had about asking him for help. “Bring it on, babe! I’m here for you.”

She smiled at this man with his puppy-dog eyes and crooked smile, who loved sailing and classic movies as much as she did, who made her feel safe in a world proven to be unsafe. Her heart, which she’d kept on a tight leash for the last six months, slipped its bonds and leapt for joy.

Her head, on the other hand, dithered. He’d said the exact right thing, but… “Are you sure? You look like you’re calculating the square root of some large number in your head.”

Sam laughed. “Absolutely sure about this weekend. I’m thinking ahead. Let’s take this next level. You promised to think about joining me on the Baja Ha Ha and maybe on to the South Pacific. Let’s skip Baja and go straight to Tahiti. Right now. The boat is ready. Kevin’s ready to take over the restaurant. All I need is you, babe.” He hit her with the full wattage of his smile.

The noise of the restaurant faded. This could be a life-changing decision. She clearly needed a change, and the old Kat had been decisive. So, she looked into Sam’s dark brown eyes and said yes—to taking a risk, to forgetting about death, and to falling in love. “As you wish, farm boy.”

Sam almost fell off his bar stool. “Does that mean you’ll come?”

“It means I love you.” There. She’d said it. “How can I let you go without me?”

His eyes lit up, and he grabbed her hand. Slowing only for Sam to toss his keys to Kevin—“Hey, man, can you close up tonight?”—they ran down the stairs to the docks and onto his sailboat, giggling like teenagers. Sam led her down the companionway into the salon and took her into his arms. The light of the full moon filtering through the hatches silvered his tan skin, and his dark eyes turned uncharacteristically serious. “I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life.”

“Me too.” She said it with a sense of wonder. All that stood between her and her happily ever after now was the lingering ghost of her father and a caffeine habit so ingrained it might as well be inked into her bicep.

“Wake up, lazybones. Time to get sailing. I said it was okay to be grouchy, but you still have to be useful.” Sam teased her through the hatch above her head. The sun was far too high in the sky.

“How long did I sleep?” she asked, scrambling up and out of bed.

“Too long. Wind line is just ahead.”

Kat swore and threw on her sweats. She got to the cockpit in seconds and took the wheel from Sam. Sailing with him had been easy from the beginning. Unlike most men, he’d taken her at her word when she told him she knew her way around a boat. On their first time out on the Hylas, they’d raised the sails, anticipating each other’s movements as if they’d done it dozens of times before. No stumbling over each other. Mutual mad respect. No mansplaining. She’d been hooked.

“Ready to raise sail,” Sam said from the front of the cockpit.

Kat headed the boat into the wind, and Sam raised the mainsail. Then she eased off the wind to draw out the jib before luffing both sails so Sam could tighten them. Finally, she cut the engine and set their course out through the Golden Gate. As the boat leapt forward, the sound of rushing water and groaning lines replaced the noise and vibration of mechanical propulsion. exact

Magical. Every single time. She hoped heaven had an eternal sailboat option.

The green peak of Angel Island loomed to port as they passed Paradise Cove. Growing up, she’d sailed here countless times with her father on his no-frills thirty-foot Catalina. Theria was a different beast than the Hylas–a boat, not a yacht–with the best sails her father could afford and a temperamental 11-hp inboard diesel he refused to replace. He’d say, “This engine makes you a better sailor. You can’t count on it, so you damn well better make sure you never need it.” Then he would laugh.

Sam moved to stand behind her, and she pressed against him, leaning into the familiarity she’d felt from their very first meeting.

“That was an enormous sigh,” he said.

“Just thinking about sailing with Dad.”

Sam tensed up. He hadn’t known his father, and talking about hers seemed to make him uneasy. “I still think it’s weird you haven’t named your boat. Calling it The Hylas is soulless. Did I tell you Theria was supposed to be Eleftheria?”

“Nearly disastrous maiden voyage. High winds and too much sail. Eleftheria, freedom, became Theria, wild beast, yada…”

“Hah.” She punched his shoulder. “We should break up. You’ve heard all my stories.”

He brushed the side of her neck with his lips. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh. “We just have to make some more. Imagine blue ocean as far as the eye can see. Mai tais, but only on Sundays. DVDs of our favorite Bogie and Bacall movies projected on the sails at night.”

The wind brought a last whiff of the mud flats off Sausalito and the unexpected scent of baked bread. Real or imagined, Kat felt a quiet pull at her core, a feeling of coming home. To Sam. She smiled at her fancy and whispered Bacall’s line from the last scene in Dark Passage. “I’ll be with you wherever you are.”