Chapter 3

One Month Later

"So you've made up your mind, have you? You've made up your big fat stubborn Jarrod Barkley mind?"

Jarrod always had to laugh when Nick called him stubborn. Now, as he packed with Nick watching, he broke into a grin. "Don't be jealous, Nick. You could take off for a week or so – and you've done so a few times."

"So have you."

"No," Jarrod said quietly. "Not like this. Usually when I take 'off,' I end up doing some kind of business, too – like checking into the wineries like you want me to do now." Jarrod stood up, smiled into Nick's face, and pointed. "But this time, all I'm going to do is enjoy the wine. No business talks, no examining their operations, nothing like that."

"Who's this guy Stone you're going with?"

Jarrod went back to packing. "I went to law school with him, and I'm not going with him. He's just giving me a ride on his boat. We part company as soon as we hit Napa."

"I hope so. Your law school buddies tend to get you into trouble."

Jarrod stopped, grew solemn. Nick had touched a nerve. Jim Scanlon had been a law school buddy. Joshua Cunningham had murdered him, and that was how Jarrod ended up taking over Cunningham's prosecution – and that was how Jarrod had gotten blinded.

Nick belatedly realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"You're right, it was," Jarrod said. He went back to packing. "Don't worry, Nick. I'll stay in touch and I can get back here in a couple days if you need me. And remember – this idea was Audra's and Mother's. I'm only doing what they want me to do."

"Maybe they're right. Get you some rest and recuperation before you start acting too crazy."

Jarrod closed up his valise. "Exactly."

"That's not enough stuff for a month, is it?" Nick asked, pointing to the valise.

Jarrod picked it up. "I sent some things ahead to the place I'll be staying, and I've left the address on the desk in the library and with Esther in my office in town."

"Just take care of yourself, all right?"

"I will do exactly that."

XXXXX

Things happened. Things changed.

When Jarrod started waking up, before he opened his eyes, he felt the nice, soft bed beneath him, touching his bare skin, and he thought he was home in his own bed. But then he began to wake up more, and reality began to bring in consciousness. He opened his eyes. This was not his room. The sun was shining into a tiny, plain room that he had never been in before. He was in bed. He had no clothes on. He was exhausted and his back hurt and he started to cough, too. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket over his lap, because he had absolutely no clothes on and he was in a strange place he had no idea how he had gotten into.

He thought. He remembered, slowly. He had been in the water. He had pulled his coat off and left it because it was getting heavy with water and dragging him down. He swam. He ran out of energy and he faded away until now.

But Jarrod struggled to remember how he had gotten into the water, and what water where? Jack Stone. He remembered a boat, owned by Jack Stone. Not a big boat, a small private boat that he sailed himself. Yes, they were sailing – to where? Why? He remembered. North across the bay to Napa. Why Napa? Had they gotten anywhere near Napa? What happened to Jack? What happened to the boat?

Had he just fallen overboard? No. Jarrod remembered. Someone had knocked him over the head and he came to some slight sense in the water. Someone had hit him and dumped him. Who? Why? Where was the boat and where was Jack and who had hit him?

The door to this room opened and Jarrod jumped. As he did, he started to cough and realized he felt terrible. He felt weak, a little dizzy. Someone came and took him by the shoulders. A woman's hands took him by the shoulders. A woman's hands pushed him back into the bed and covered him up.

A woman's voice said, "You'd better stay still, Mister. You're in no shape to get up."

Jarrod looked up at the tan face of a young, white woman with brown hair and a smile that looked like it was trying to be comforting. But there was something uncomfortable about it. There was something uncomfortable about everything around him.

"Who are you?" Jarrod asked.

"My name is Alice," she said. "Who are you?"

She didn't know who he was. Jarrod remembered. His wallet and his identification had been in the coat he discarded in the water. Something uncomfortable here, something he didn't trust, told him not to give her his real name. He said, "John. John Maloney."

"How did you come to be washed up on the beach?" she asked.

Jarrod didn't know – and he wasn't entirely sure this Alice didn't already know. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I was on a boat heading north toward Vallejo. I must have fallen overboard." He didn't want to say anything about being hit and dumped. He didn't want to give this woman any more information than he had to.

"Where are you from? San Francisco?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, and he started coughing. He got it under control and asked, "Where am I and how did I get here?"

"We found you on the beach last night," Alice said.

"What beach? Where?"

"Just some property we own," she said.

"Who's 'we'?" Jarrod asked.

Alice said only, "Don't give that any thought right now."

Jarrod started coughing again. He decided that Alice was not going to trust him any more than he was going to trust her, not yet anyway.

Alice said, "You better rest. I'm gonna get you a little whiskey to help you sleep. You were half drowned when we found you. We don't want you getting a touch of pneumonia out of this. Don't worry, I'll do the best I can for you. Now, you just rest. I'll get that whiskey."

Pneumonia, Jarrod thought, knowing he was prone to get that and had been all his life. He never liked it but he knew he could recover from it. But he knew he needed a doctor, and he had to contact his family and let them know what happened.

And where was Jack Stone? Where was the boat? What had happened to them? For some reason, Jarrod was reluctant to ask this woman, this Alice. For some reason, he felt the need to keep silent about everything he could keep silent about – even if he got feverish and delirious.

Jarrod moaned and closed his eyes. Nick's words came back to him. Your law school buddies tend to get you into trouble.Damn, he hated it when Nick was right.