Chapter 4

Osvaldo found her in her studio. She was painting in watercolours — a scene recreated from the montage of photographs she had pinned all around the easel. The scene was one of the many street markets in Baton Rouge and it was clear from the emerging painting that Rose Sinclair had no little skill as an artist.

He paused for a few seconds to admire the scene — not the painting, but rather the beautiful woman applying the brushstrokes with practised ease. She was stunning. Even now in her early thirties she was a rare beauty. Olive skin, graceful, sleek even and that lustrous black hair! Today she was wearing pants and they helped to highlight the wondrous sculpture that was her butt. Osvaldo mentally shook himself.

"Rosalita, we need to talk," he said.

He noticed she jumped a little, startled by his voice invading whatever world she had drifted off to. She recovered quickly however, and when she swung herself round to face him, there was a flash of anger in the big brown eyes.

"My name is Rose! I'm not one of your Spanish bimbos Osvaldo, you're well aware that my family are of French descent. Please try to remember that," she rebuked him, a note of disdain in her tone.

Osvaldo sighed and then crossed to the sofa and took a seat.

"Come and join me, Rose. I have news and you should be sitting down when I share it with you."

"Is it Donald? No! What's happened to him?" she gasped, her hands coming up to her mouth, as she took the few steps to join Osvaldo on the sofa.

"Rose, stop it! There is no Donald, he no longer exists. How many times do I have to tell you that? Little Donald is now called Robert and he has no recollection of you whatsoever. He has a new family, a new mommy, far away from Baton Rouge. I have washed away the stain caused by your little bastard. For that you should thank me."

The fire that had been in Rose's eyes dimmed. Donald had been taken from her ten years before and she knew in her heart that what Osvaldo was saying was true. He had only been just over a year old at the time and the likelihood of him remembering her was remote in the extreme. Her head dropped as she let the memories of her son mist her eyes.

"It's about Johnny," Osvaldo said.

That name banished the memories and dispelled the tears, as Rose's head snapped up again.

"Johnny?" she asked, the catch in her voice betraying the deep emotion even saying the name brought.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to give it to you straight. Johnny's dead," said Osvaldo.

"NO! You're lying," she spat.

Osvaldo placed the copy of the Palm Springs Gazette he had been holding on the sofa between them.

"It's true, Rose. Read for yourself."

Almost in a daze, she picked the paper up and looked at the picture and the headline on the front page.

MURDER IN THE CITY!

Cathedral City police are hunting the killer of John Sinclair after he was found dead this morning. Sinclair, only released from San Quentin prison within the past few days, appears to have been the victim of a robbery that somehow turned out horribly wrong. Ironically, Sinclair himself had just finished a sentence for a robbery he carried out in Palm Springs ten years ago. Chief of police Greg Markow was remaining tight-lipped today, but sources say that he may have been an eye witness to the murder...

The paper slipped from Rose's suddenly nerveless fingers and her eyes met Osvaldo's.

"He's gone, Rose, but you still have me. I'll look after you; I'll take care of you."

Something triggered an inner resolve and he could see her physically gathering herself before his very eyes.

"You did this! You killed him, didn't you?" she accused.

"Now you're being silly. I can understand this must be a shock, but you have to try to move on. You haven't seen him for more than ten years for goodness sake, he's never loved you, not like I do," Osvaldo snapped.

"I never knew why he didn't come for me, but now I do. He's been in prison all this time, hasn't he? Why didn't you tell me? Why have you kept it from me? As for love, you know nothing of love, Osvaldo, nothing. Johnny and I shared a love of the purest kind, something that you will never experience."

"I do love you, Rose. You must see that. Let me take care of you. Now that Johnny is gone we can be together."

"NEVER! We will never be together you stupid man, can't you see that? Can't you understand? NEVER! Get out, GET OUT"

Rose jumped to her feet, her petite hands clenched into fists by her sides. Osvaldo's breath was taken away by how beautiful she looked even now and he shook his head.

"You'll change your mind once you come to terms with this. You'll see. You need me, Rose. Now that you know, now that you have to stop dreaming that Johnny will turn up one day, you'll see that you need me."

"GET OUT!" she screamed again, her foot stamping on the hardwood floor.

He shrugged and stood up, smiling as he walked from the room. Rose bent over and snatched the paper up from where she had dropped it. She stared at the picture of Johnny — a Johnny who seemed to have aged more than ten years — and felt her tears returning. After all these years her hopes had been dashed, her belief that she and Johnny would one day be together again were gone.

"Oh Johnny, what have they done to you, to us? My love, I never stopped believing in you, never stopped loving you. I promise you that Osvaldo will pay. If it's the last thing I do, I promise that I'll make him pay for this."

Gavin had to attend an orientation meeting at the University, so he couldn't act on his latest information right away. The fact that the new house had its own pool meant that he had no problem staying in peak condition and he hoped to impress his new coach when he was put through his paces later.

The day started with a coach tour of the University campus followed by a talk from several of the welcoming members of staff. Gavin was bored as he had been through this and more on the three week trip he had taken the year before. There were also a large number of returning students around to offer advice to the freshmen and Gavin was stunned when he recognised one of them.

"James? Is that you?" he asked as he walked up behind the boy.

"GAVIN! What the hell are you doing here?" asked an equally stunned James Wiggins.

"I changed my mind, I'm transferring in this year, but what are you doing here? I thought you said you weren't going to choose Southern Utah?"

James laughed.

"It's a long story, but let's just say I didn't get the GPA I wanted, so in the end my choices were a bit limited."

"Look, I have to meet with some of my professors and then meet up with my swimming coach, but maybe we could catch lunch together or something?" Gavin suggested.

"Sure, I'd like that," James replied, a genuine smile of pleasure on his face.

Gavin had met James more than a year before when he had visited Southern Utah University to discuss an offer they had made to him. The boys had become firm friends after Gavin had saved James's life on a trip to the Grand Canyon. Before the end of Gavin's trip, James had confessed that his family were survivalists, living in a community based in Oregon. James gave Gavin his e-mail address and the boys had kept in touch. It had been James who had somehow arranged to get the pistol for Gavin that had started him on the road to becoming the vigilante.

The rest of the morning went well, with Gavin duly impressing in the swimming pool. He could feel the scrutiny of his new team mates as he warmed up and then swam a fifty metres back-stroke flat out. Looking up at the timer, he was pleased to see that it was close to his personal best time. Most of the guys sitting in the bleachers were wearing wide grins too, as they could see he was going to be a valuable addition to the squad. One or two undoubtedly worried about their own places and didn't seem quite as happy.

Lunch with James was fun. He wanted to hear details of what Gavin had been up to in the past year. In hushed tones, Gavin described in more detail some of the things he had done as the vigilante and he watched the other boy's face register his disbelief.

"Get out of here!" James exclaimed. "No way, that's just unbelievable!"

"It's true, all of it," Gavin laughed. "Don't worry; I got rid of the gun so nothing will ever come back on whomever you got to supply it."

"Man, if even half of that is true, normal life must be incredibly dull," mused James.

"I have to admit that I miss the rush it used to give me, but there's always a down side," said Gavin.

He went on to describe how his adopted father had died at the hands of the Glasgow gangs and how he and his family had had to leave Glasgow before the police caught up with him.

"So that's why I've ended up here," he said.

"I can see why you might feel the need to keep a low profile," James said.

"Yeah, but somehow trouble just seems to follow me around," quipped Gavin.

He knew he could trust James and went on to tell him about the recent events in Cathedral City.

"So what are you going to do?" asked an amazed James.

"I'm going to find Rose, pass on the guy's last message and give her the money and the necklace," said Gavin. "The only reason I haven't done it already is because I had to stick around for this orientation day."

"But what if the police catch up with you?"

"I don't think there's much chance of that — they don't have anything to go on," Gavin replied, oblivious to the fact that Chief Markow was closing in on him.

Fiona and Lizzie weren't happy when Gavin told them he was taking the trip to Louisiana on his own.

"Look, there's going to be nothing for you to do," he argued. "I've researched this on-line and basically I'm facing a round trip of more than 900 miles. I'm not planning on hanging around — just pass on Sinclair's message, the money and the necklace and then back home."

"But we could spell you with the driving," Fiona argued back.

"Sis, it's a boring drive across five states — without any stops. I don't want either of you tied up in this any more than you are already," he said.

They argued back and forth, but for once, Gavin put his foot down.

He explained the need for the trip to Louisiana to Christine and Frank by telling a white lie.

"I have to take part in a swimming competition as part of my enrolment. It's just my luck that the meet is so far away," he moaned.

Christine wasn't concerned, she knew her son could look after himself and she offered to arrange another rental for him.

The drive to Monroe was just as boring as he had described it to Fiona. He got onto I15 and headed towards Salt Lake before taking the exit that was signposted for the I70 and Denver. Some 450 miles later, he had passed through Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas and finally crossed into Louisiana on the I20. Most of the route had been interstate so he made good time, stopping twice to eat and once to take a nap in the back of the SUV his mom had hired for him.

Taking the exit signposted for Bastrop and Columbia, he followed the local signs until he reached Monroe itself. In total the trip had taken him thirty-two hours — twenty-six of those driving — and he was exhausted.

"This is stupid, I need to find a room and get some sleep or I'm going to kill myself on the way back," he told himself.

He found a Holiday Inn on Martin Luther King Dr. and booked himself in for the night. To treat himself, he ordered up a steak from room service and surprised himself by managing to eat the entire meal for once, despite the size of the portions.

After 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep, Gavin took a shower and checked out of the hotel. He'd searched for the apartment building using Google and had jotted down directions for himself, so finding Lasalle Street was pretty straightforward. The Apartment block was close to the University of Louisiana, squashed between the interstate and the river. By the looks of things, most of the residents were students which made sense.

Before leaving Cedar City, Gavin had withdrawn $10,000 of his own money from the bank and he had that and the jewellery case in a bag locked in the trunk of the SUV. He wanted to make sure that Rose Sinclair was here before getting the bag.

As he entered the lobby of the apartment building, an older woman glanced up from where she was sitting behind a counter. Gavin must have looked like just another student to her, because she immediately lost interest. He walked over to her, hoping for some help.