“Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable representing the department at the benefit?” Reina asked Jason again.
“I’ve never been shy in front of a crowd,” he joked. “I’ll have to get clearance from the department. I’m sure they’ll want their communication team to vet my speech. They won’t want me embarrassing them or opening them up to any lawsuit. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Jason shifted on the couch searching for a comfortable position. Not finding one, he stood up.
“Everything okay?” Reina tilted her head.
“It’s all good. Glad I can help.” His unenthusiastic tone said differently.
“I don’t mean to push you to be involved. One of the things I appreciate most about the Black and Missing Foundation is that it was started by a veteran law-enforcement official. The department needs to show it understands this systemic problem and is invested in fixing it.” When she realized he hadn’t gotten a word in, she said, “Sorry. This is a sensitive topic for me. Clearly.” When he still didn’t respond, she added, “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?”
"Reina, I know all about the man who killed your husband."
“Wow. Okay.” Her voice quivered. “Well, you’re a cop, and Eli’s your best friend.”
"It’s more than that." He answered her confused stare. “I know I’m not making sense.”
You’re not. Her face confirmed.
"I grew up dreaming of becoming a cop. And it came true on my 21st birthday." His thoughtful gaze was that of a man remembering a happy memory. She wanted to join in his reverie, but her heart was screaming for answers about Jared. "Your husband and I never met each other, with him in Manhattan and me in Brooklyn."
“Then why are you talking to me about who killed him?”
“I knew better. I shouldn’t have chased him down that alleyway when I could see the situation was a setup.”
“What situation? Chase who? What does this have to do with Jared's killer?”
Reina soothed Nate who was starting to get agitated. Did he feel the tension?
“Tommy Enzo—”
Instinctively Reina hugged Nate. Moving off the couch, she carefully settled on the floor and wrapped Nate in her arms protectively. Jason sat down next to her. Somehow it felt wrong to loom over her while sharing this story.
She sat cradling Nate, eyes intently watching and waiting for him to continue.
"Tommy Enzo was the bastard who killed your husband the week after he shot me and left me for dead in an alleyway.”
“T-tell me the whole story.” Reflexively, she covered Nate’s ears as if shielding him from hurt.
“He was a punk drug dealer who used his girlfriend’s face as a punching bag.” He saw her flinch but continued. “I was riding along training a rookie when a call came in about a domestic disturbance. When we arrived, his girlfriend was curled up in a corner with her face in a pool of blood.”
“They had told me he had just gotten out of jail for assaulting her with a knife.”
He nodded. “That day was his last strike, and he knew it. He wasn’t going to stick around to get arrested. He took off running minutes before we arrived.”
She remained quiet.
“I yelled at my partner to stay and take care of her and ran after him. He took the underground tunnel that connected his building with the one next door. I didn’t know the neighborhood. This was his territory. He knew the layout of the buildings and used it to his advantage. When he got to the next one, he rushed toward a back alleyway. I should have waited for backup but the image of that girl lying there . . .” He shook his head. “I couldn’t chance him getting away.”
“You and Eli are cut from the same heroic cloth.”
“I followed him, and barely turned the corner before he shot me.” He paused at the horrified look on her face. The pause was for him as much as it was for her. This was the first time in months he had to share this story with someone new. He could feel himself reliving that moment. He remembered mostly smells. The smell of months-old urine stinging his nostrils after the first bullet knocked him face down to the ground. The smell of his blood mixing with the urine after the second and last shot penetrated the small space underneath his left arm not covered by the bullet proof vest.
“The first shot was aimed at my heart, but I was saved by my vest, or God, as Preacher man—I mean Eli." He rushed on when he saw her confusion. “As Eli would say.”
“God had his hand out for you that day.”
He looked to her to see if she could handle knowing more. At her tentative nod, he continued.
“I was in a coma for days after they removed that bullet. The one that managed to find its way under my vest almost finished me off. I was still in that coma when your husband stopped Enzo for a minor traffic violation, and he shot him point blank—before he even had a chance to draw his gun.”
Jason heard her sharp intake of breath as if hearing of her husband’s death for the first time and saw the tears start to flow. Not knowing what to do, he tentatively reached for her hands. When she didn’t pull back in disgust, he squeezed them both. The tears flowed, some landing on Nate’s forehead, while she sat quietly hiccuping.
“I’m sorry” seemed such an inadequate thing to say at the moment yet those were the only words he had as he watched her cry.
Nate must have sensed his mother’s distress because he too started crying. Reina wiped her face and focused on comforting him. While she comforted Nate, Jason did what he could to do the same for her.
Nate quieted down some time later while she held him against her heart. At some point, her head ended up on Jason’s shoulder, as if too heavy to remain upright. He sat with them both whispering, “I’m sorry” and stroking her arm while she quietly continued to soothe Nate.
Eli found them that way when he returned. Seeing them this way made him wish he’d knocked instead of walking in. Startled by his arrival, Reina jumped up, careful not to drop Nate, and wiped furiously at the tears that started again. Realizing what must have happened, Eli put the pizza boxes down and walked up and hugged her. She stiffened at first, and he worried that he’d made the wrong move, but then she melted into his hug in search of comfort.
Jason, who was now up and exiting the apartment, said, “I’m sorry again.”
Reina slowly stepped out of Eli’s hug. He grabbed Nate and she plopped down on the couch with her face in her hands.
“You should go check on him,” she almost-whispered to Eli, who had to sit next to her to hear the words.
“Jason’s had time to deal with it. This was just sprung on you.”
“You had plenty of time to tell me. Why didn’t you?”
He looked at her, wanting to hold her again and give her his comfort. Instead, his voice even, he answered, “I don’t know.” He cradled Nate in one arm and reached for her hand with the other. “I couldn’t cause you any more pain.”
She grabbed his hand in return, squeezed gently, and stood. Reina hurried to the bathroom and came back with her face washed and her tears dried.
Through her still hoarse voice, she thanked him for helping her, apologized for her tears, and asked him to leave.
He scrambled to his feet. “You’re angry at me for not saying anything.”
She shook her head no. “I’m not. Really. You were in an awkward position. I understand.”
“Then why do you want me to leave?” Eli wished he was better at this friendship thing. “You’re still upset. You can use a friend.” Maybe there was something else he should be saying or doing to help her through this. He wished there was a manual he could consult.
“Just go. Please.” Her voice trembled.
He wanted to argue but wouldn’t do it when she was so close to tears. She needed her time alone.
She barely looked at him as he handed her Nate. “Just call me if you need anything.”
He walked out quietly when she did not respond.
Chapter 7
Like some cruel practical joke, that next month, the sun shone its brightest on the anniversary of Jared’s death.
Reina heard her buzzing cellphone and forcefully pressed the key to send the caller to voicemail. She’d lost count of Lauren’s attempts to contact her today, let alone these last two weeks.
She had no interest in hearing Lauren criticize her way of mourning.
When the phone buzzed again, Reina snatched it and barked, “I don’t want to talk about it!” before throwing it across the room. She couldn’t even feel sorry for hurting her friend’s feelings. Her anger wouldn’t let her. She’d started this day mad at the world, spoiling for a fight and daring anyone to take the challenge.
She’d been wide awake last night counting down the time that would haul in memories of her heartbreak.
11 PM
11:30 PM
11:45 PM
11:55 PM . . . 56 . . . 57 . . . 58 . . . 59—. She’d willed time to stop.
She’d offered it everything she owned, but its integrity could not be compromised. Time’s job was to tick by without pause, with no regard for whether a person was ready to face the next second, let alone the next hour.
Midnight.
The old-fashioned clock on her nightstand had arrogantly displayed 12:00 AM.
The stabbing in her gut and the pulsating blinding migraine wouldn’t cease. She’d wondered if the pain would lessen at 12:01. Maybe at 12:02. But figured it wouldn’t. Not surprisingly, the pain had only increased with the passing of each hour. When she couldn’t stay in bed any longer, she’d come out here on the couch. Now she sat staring at her phone smashed into pieces.
Thankfully, Nate still slept. Her anger dimmed considerably when she thought of him.
Last night, in her rage, she’d wanted to smash every good dish in her kitchen. She’d had plans to make her way throughout the apartment, leaving a trail of damaged valuables. Whatever was fragile, she had intended to break. She had wanted to so badly she could feel the shards of glass piercing her bare feet. She’d held a vase in her hands, ready to see its body disintegrate. She’d had it firmly gripped in both hands, letting her anger travel down its length, ready to throw it against the wall—until Nathaniel had cried. As if reminding her he came first. Before her anger. Before her hurt. He mattered most.
This morning she sucked in as much air as she could take. Held it for so long her body protested. When she finally exhaled, she was lightheaded. Ready to faint. She repeated it twice before her body demanded she stopped the punishment. Shakily, she rose up from the couch to check on Nate who’d started stirring from sleep. She reached his crib and found him languidly spread out on his back. Whatever had tried to rouse him out of sleep had failed.
With effort, she dragged her worn-out body from his nursery back to the living room. Before she could make it to the couch to curl up into her ball of comfort, a succession of urgent knocks threw her off-balance. After losing her footing, she fell—face first—hitting her forehead on the edge of the hallway table as she clumsily tried to stand up.
Nathaniel wailed, forced out of sleep. Reina’s anger, now a degree cooler than an erupting volcano, burned out of control. She marched to the door, as steadily as she could with a near concussion, and yanked it open ready to scream. Eli rushed her into a hug before she could make a sound. Caught by surprise, she stood statue-still. Half letting go of her, he hurried them both to Nate’s side. He moved over while she removed the baby from the crib. Eli grabbed Nate and placed his arm around her again.
“You’re okay, Nate. You’re okay,” Eli said in a soothing tone.
Eli turned to peer at Reina and his heart constricted at the sight of her. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Not since that day with Jason. He’d tried stopping by, but she wouldn’t answer the door. She’d ignored his calls and his text messages. He’d even sent her emails. She’d responded to his final one.
What was it she’d said? Oh, yes. Nate and I need our time to remember Jared in peace. Please don’t come around again until you’re invited. He’d felt gut-punched but respected her need for space. Until now.
He turned his attention back to her. She was disheveled, her coils standing in every direction. Pronounced dark circles drooped from underneath her eyes. A fierce cut mocked him from the right side of her forehead. Truth be told, she looked a mess, but thank God she was much better than he’d imagined. When he’d rushed here, his heart in his throat, he’d been concerned and unsure what state she would be in. He had prayed the whole way that she and Nate would both be safe.
He gently tugged her with him to the living room. “You’re bleeding. Where’s the First Aid Kit?”
He repeated his request, slower this time, when it didn’t seem like she understood him. Sitting her down carefully, he walked to the bathroom, with Nate still in his arms.
He yelled from the room, “Never mind. I found it.”
He returned with the tools to clean and dress her wound and set Nate down in the playpen. Worried she might have a concussion, he followed the steps of his professional training to confirm otherwise.
It eased his worry when she snapped, “Stop this! I’m fine!”
Reina tried to stand up, but he guided her right back down. She glared at him for his interference.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
Ignoring her scowl, Eli answered, “Your friend Lauren tracked me down at work to ask that I check on you.” He looked around the room and pointed at the crumbled mess. “Your phone was out of commission when we called.”
“That’s supposed to be funny?” If her tone were any sharper, he’d lose his head.
Nate continued to whimper. Her son’s tears calmed her voice. Reina removed him from the playpen without asking. Her face dared Eli to question her action. Because she sat right back down and there was no worry of her losing her balance and falling down with Nate, he let it go. Some battles you didn’t need to fight.
He left the couch and came back minutes later with Nate’s bottle and a blanket.
“Thanks,” she said. Her jaws clenched.
Eli stayed seated with them in silence while Reina fed Nate and soothed him until he finally fell back asleep two hours later. Despite her protest, he lifted the child carefully from her arms and deposited him back into his crib. When he returned to the living room, she was on her knees picking up the dismantled remains of her phone.
“Sit down. I’ll clean up.” He moved to help her up, but she pushed back his hand.
“You’ve seen for yourself that Nate and I are fine. Go home.”
He didn’t intend to meet her anger with anger. He reminded himself that her pain was causing her to lash out. He’d be there for her. If lashing out at him helped her get through this day, he’d let her.
“I can’t. I was just nearing the end of my shift. My body should be ready to go sleep, but I’m wide awake.”
“I don’t care where you go or what your body does, just as long as it’s not here.” She threw her hands up and gave up picking up the phone pieces. “Leave! Call your pal Lauren and tell her I’m fine.” She spread both arms out, letting him examine her. “In fact, tell her the next time she brings someone into my business without my permission, she can consider herself my ex-best friend.”
He watched her, his face purposely neutral. In this state of mind, she’d mistake his concern for pity. Lauren had warned him she wouldn’t stand for anyone pitying her. Something he’d learned by now.
He tried a different approach. “Do you mind if I make something to eat? I’m starving.”
Reina peered at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Eli smiled to himself when she responded the way he knew she would.
“What kind of game are you running here?”
“No game,” he said over his shoulder, on his way to the kitchen. “I’m hungry and want company while I eat.”
“You can’t just come in here and make yourself breakfast.”
“I’m
making you breakfast, too. What do you want in your omelet?” He opened her fridge, noting the lack of ingredients for anything more than scrambled eggs. “Never mind, I see our options are limited.”
Reina stood there staring. Eli could see she wasn’t sure what to think.
“Why are you in my kitchen discussing breakfast when I want to be left alone?”
“I know. You told me in all caps in that last email.”
“Yet you’re here.” Reina pointed out. “Look. I get that Lauren is freaked out thinking I’m not answering my phone because I’m an emotional basket case,” she said, watching him crack open the third and last egg. “I know that’s why she sent you here.”
“Lauren was worried. So was I.” He turned the stove off and grabbed a dish from the cabinet. He needed to keep his hands busy. If his hands were free, he’d hug her. He didn’t think she’d stand for that again. “Our last conversation ended so abruptly.” He placed both plates on the table and invited her to sit down. “Rei, I should have told you about Jason sooner. I’m sorry.”
She gave him a measured look before finally taking a seat.
He handed her the fork. When she made no move to take it, he asked, “When was the last time you ate something?”
Her face said she suspected he knew it had been a while. Rather than give him the satisfaction of an answer, she snatched the fork, took a bite, and regarded him with an “Are you happy now?” stare.
He nodded, satisfied. They ate in silence.
When they finished, Eli loaded soiled utensils into the dishwasher while she helped. She sighed from someplace deep within her and he felt her anger deflating. In response, he put a tentative arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him when she didn’t resist. They walked that way to the living room and sat on the comfy rug instead of the couch, her favorite seat.
The quiet dragged until she finally spoke. “I knew about the other cop and always wondered who he was.” She moved away from him. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him and his family.”
Accepting Elijah's Heart Page 7
