Tommy's Mom

by Linda O. Johnston

  “I’m coordinating schedules,” he said mildly. “Some of my officers will be patrolling the street all day. They may stop in to see if you need anything, and if you go out they’ll join you.”

  “Oh,” Holly said softly. The widening of her eyes told him she’d gotten the message he hadn’t wanted to state in front of Tommy. He was tightening police security around this small family. “Well, I have plenty of work to do to keep Tommy and me home for today. I’ve been planning a new sewing project.”

  “Fine. Give me a call if you need to go out, okay?”

  Her nod appeared dejected. He wanted to cheer her but couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say with Tommy sitting there, his gaze ping-ponging from Gabe to his mom and back again as they spoke.

  Cute kid, Gabe thought not for the first time.

  A kid he intended to make sure stayed safe.

  His beautiful, sexy mother, too.

  No one was going to harm them. Or terrorize them.

  Not on Gabe’s watch.

  Chapter Eight

  Sitting in her sewing room, Holly felt like a prisoner in her own house. One being watched every moment by a cop.

  She had finally gotten Tommy down for a nap mid-afternoon. All morning, he had been restless, unwilling to settle down in front of his usual educational TV shows, unwilling even to play a favorite board game with her.

  Unwilling to talk to her, no matter how much she teased or pretended it was a game.

  Each time a car passed, he’d hurried to the door as if expecting Gabe that soon.

  He had promised, after all, to return later in the day. That gave Tommy something to look forward to.

  And gave Holly something to feel ambivalent about.

  As soon as Tommy lay down, she started hunting through Thomas’s bedroom for…what? She didn’t know. But that horrible caller seemed to think Thomas left something important.

  She hadn’t been able to search with Gabe in the house last night. And she’d had to do something.

  After an hour, still empty-handed, she’d given up. Temporarily.

  Now, she used her five-year-old sewing machine to stitch a seam in a new costume Evangeline commissioned by a phone call. Sighing, she looked at the bright orange jumpsuit resembling those worn by local street maintenance workers. Once more she had set aside an artistic wall hanging. It would require more creativity than this less imaginative outfit. And right now, with her mind whirling, she hadn’t much imagination to spare.

  She pushed the pedal and the sewing machine began stitching with a low grumble.

  “That’s just how I feel,” she said aloud.

  The phone rang, startling her. She lifted the receiver on the sewing room extension, ignoring the little jolt her heart made. What if it was the person who’d called before?

  “Holly, it’s Al Sharp. How are ya?”

  She smiled. She had always liked Thomas’s partner. “Fine, Al, and you?”

  “Okay. Listen, I just got done with my patrol. Did you know we were assigned to cruise your neighborhood?”

  “‘We’?” Had Al been assigned a new partner already? Of course. Despite death and tragedy, life, and the N.B.P.D., went on.

  Al sounded embarrassed. “Yeah, me and…well, my new partner, George.” He went on hastily, “Another shift’s just begun and another unit’ll be patrolling. You’re on twenty-four hour surveillance right now.”

  Holly knew. She’d seen the police units cruise her street often that day. It was one reason she’d felt imprisoned, despite the sense of security it also provided.

  “Anyhow,” Al continued, “before I go home, I want to come by, maybe mow your lawn or trim that hedge along the driveway that’s always hanging over. All right?”

  “You don’t have to, Al.”

  “Sure. We’re still family, you know.”

  Family. That sounded familiar. Had Gabe McLaren put Al up to this? Pushed him, at the risk of his job?

  If so, Holly would set Gabe straight.

  “I know this wasn’t your idea, Al,” she said, “and you don’t—”

  “Hey, you know me, Holly. I don’t always come up with good ideas like Thomas did, but there’s no one better on the follow-through. Right?”

  “Right. Thanks, Al.”

  “See you soon.”

  Al arrived half an hour later. Thin and with a nearly shaved head, he was in torn jeans and a grass-stained white T-shirt. “Can you let me into the garage for the clippers and lawnmower?”

  “Sure.”

  Al was divorced and childless and lived in an apartment. He probably didn’t do much mowing and trimming these days. Still, he was done in less than an hour. Somehow, the loud sound of the mower didn’t waken Tommy. Al rapped at the front door.

  “All through?” Holly asked.

  He nodded. His face and scalp were damp with perspiration. “Yeah. Anything else you need right now?”

  “Yes, I need to give you a glass of water. Or would you prefer lemonade or iced tea? In any event, come in.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. She sat with him at the table, and he accepted the drink of ice water. He smelled of antiperspirant and newly mown grass.

  “You and Tommy doing okay?” he asked. Al had always resembled a lovable mutt to Holly, with his extra chin and perennially sad eyes. “McLaren—the chief—told us that you’re being harassed. Phone calls, a break-in. I saw the report. It said nothing was taken.” He regarded her quizzically.

  “That’s right.” Holly sighed. “I suspect from the phone call that the person was looking for something he didn’t find.” She shivered.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “I wish I did.” She didn’t mention that she had searched for something. “I might give it to the creep so we wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

  Al reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. His was cold and damp from holding the glass. His grin held no humor. “You didn’t hear this from me, Holly, since it’s against policy, but you got the right idea. Depending on what the guy wants, I mean. If it’s not something valuable Thomas left to Tommy and you, just get rid of it. Tell you what. If you figure out what it is, call me. We’ll talk about it, see if there’s a good way for you to get rid of it without pissing off—er, making Chief McLaren mad, okay?”

  “Maybe,” Holly said. “But what if it’s the person who killed Thomas who wants something? I want him caught.”

  “Hey, all the more reason to give it to me,” Al said. “Maybe we can avenge Thomas’s murder. I’d like to be the one to finger the suspect. What do you say to that?”

  “I’d say that’s fine,” Holly said, “as long as no one else gets hurt.”

  SITTING AT HIS DESK, Gabe lifted the phone and punched in a number. He smiled when Holly’s melodic voice answered, “Hello?” There was a hint of hesitation in her tone, as if she expected the jerk who’d threatened her before to be on the line.

  Gabe identified himself. “Would you like me to bring another pizza tonight? Or Chinese takeout, or—”

  “Take me out,” Holly interrupted. Then she laughed. “My treat, but I’ve been going stir-crazy today, not leaving the house, knowing people are watching—even though they’re the good guys. And Al Sharp doing chores, and…I need to get out, especially since Tommy woke up from his nap with a huge streak of mischief in him. I’ve been chasing him around the house.”

  “I feel another game of catch coming on,” Gabe said, grinning. He had a good time playing with the little tyke. “I’ll come by and we’ll let Tommy pick the place for dinner.”

  He performed his usual routine for leaving the office in record time: organizing his desk, shutting down his computer, grabbing gun and cell phone. He took his Mustang and headed to his nearby condo, where he packed a few things. Then he drove to Holly’s house. He pulled into the driveway to make it obvious to anyone watching that Holly and Tommy were not alone.

  When Holly answered the door, she was wearing a form-hugging
pair of olive green slacks and a brightly colored floral shirt. Her smile was sheepish. “You don’t really mind going out for dinner tonight, do you?”

  Tommy stood beside her, grinning up at Gabe.

  “How about it, sport?” he asked the boy, kneeling to give him a hug. “Do you want to grab dinner at your favorite restaurant? I bet it’s Frank’s Fish Food.”

  Tommy pulled back and shook his head.

  “How about Slithering Sammy’s Fried Snakes?”

  Tommy laughed and shook his head again so hard that his neatly combed dark hair flew.

  “I know. Ollie’s Octopus House.”

  “No,” Tommy said.

  Gabe drew in his breath, only daring the slightest glance up at Holly, whose hand was pressed to her mouth.

  “Well, then,” Gabe said, as if nothing monumental had just occurred. “What is your favorite restaurant?”

  He waited, watching the boy. Tommy blinked rapidly, as if he only just realized he had spoken aloud. He shook his head.

  “Tell you what,” Gabe said. “You can just whisper it in my ear. Okay?”

  Tommy looked dubious. Gabe stood and said to Holly, “You know, maybe we should go to Sandy’s Spider House.”

  He felt an urgent tug on his sleeve. He bent—and grinned as broadly as his face would allow when Tommy whispered the name of a nearby fast-food chain in his ear.

  “Oh, that’s your favorite restaurant!” He stood, taking both Tommy’s hand and Holly’s. “I like it, too. Let’s go.”

  HOLLY SAT with Gabe at an outside table at the fast-food restaurant, keeping a close watch on Tommy, who gleefully used the equipment in the fenced-in play area.

  Other than his continued refusal to talk regularly, he was beginning to act like a normal kid again. Even his nightmares seemed to have slowed down.

  Holly realized that his improvement was at least partly due to the attention and the patience of the man keeping her company. He hadn’t even allowed her to pay for their dinner of hamburgers, fries and shakes.

  Despite all her misgivings, she was enjoying Gabe’s company. She was beginning to rely on him. To look forward to the times he joined them.

  And that was an enormous mistake. She had to tell him to leave them alone, but in the nicest way possible.

  “I really appreciate this, Gabe,” she began.

  Damn! He made it awfully hard to brush him off when he smiled at her so sexily. He had removed his jacket and tie. He looked great with rolled up sleeves that revealed his sinewy arms, and with his top three buttons undone, exposing his very masculine throat.

  “I’ll join you for fast food any time,” he replied to her comment. “I enjoy being with Tommy.” He didn’t say and you out loud, but the lift of one thick, straight brow spoke volumes. “And I’m glad he’s opening up, if only a little. I’ll spend more time with him, and maybe he’ll really start talking to us.”

  Double damn! Of course he was right. Tommy was opening up not to her, but to him, no matter how much she encouraged her son to talk.

  She could resent it all she wanted, but what good would that do? Because of Tommy’s progress, she couldn’t just ask Gabe to stay away, to instead send Al Sharp or the patrol cops on evening shift to spend the night in her living room for her peace of mind and protection.

  “Yes, he’s got to start talking again.” She hoped she didn’t sound as conflicted as she felt.

  Gabe told her that the lab report had come back on the doll and on the potential evidence collected in Thomas’s office.

  Nothing helpful so far.

  Yet, fortunately, he still seemed to believe she hadn’t imagined the invasion of her home. And he certainly recognized the doll had been sent, the phone call made to scare her.

  And then he pulled a cell phone from a pocket and handed it to her. “Carry this with you at all times if you leave your house,” he said. “In case I have to reach you. I have the number. And also in case you need to reach me.”

  In case you need help. Holly heard the unspoken message. She wanted to refuse the phone and therefore what it represented. But she couldn’t, for Tommy’s sake as much as her own.

  They left soon afterward. On reaching her house, Gabe made a quick search of the rooms, then took Tommy outside for a short game of catch.

  Holly stayed in the house making lemonade while the guys were in the yard. The kitchen phone rang, startling her. She nearly knocked over the pitcher.

  The threatening call had come during a game of catch between Gabe and Tommy.

  She took a deep breath before lifting the receiver from the kitchen wall.

  “Holly? It’s Edie. I wanted to check on Tommy and you.”

  “We’re okay.”

  Her relief must have been obvious in her voice, for Edie said, “Right. Of course you are. What’s wrong besides that damnable doll?”

  Holly laughed uneasily. “I should know better than to try to fool you.” She quickly enumerated all the things that bothered her, including, on top of the harassment, the police surveillance, and the personal attention being given this situation by the chief of police.

  That was enough. She wouldn’t tell Edie how attracted to this man she was getting. Edie, who knew her opinion of cops, would rib her unmercifully. And she’d be right. Holly was definitely acting irrational.

  “Sounds grim,” Edie acknowledged when Holly was done. “And Tommy’s still not talking?”

  “No.” He wasn’t, not really. And Holly’s dear friend Edie wasn’t always as discreet as she should be. If she happened to mention Tommy’s few words to someone who knew someone who knew someone—

  “Well, I know you don’t want to hear it, since he’s a cop and all, but I can’t help feeling a little jealous that the hunk Gabe McLaren has taken you on as his personal project.”

  Holly hadn’t expected that reaction from Edie. Why not? Edie had already made it plain she was interested in Gabe. “You can have him,” she said quickly, then realized she’d consider kicking her friend in the shins if she dared to try to steal Gabe’s attention away from Tommy and her.

  Not that she wanted him. Only his protection.

  But she was glad Edie couldn’t see her self-mocking smile.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Gabe. He and Tommy had just entered the kitchen door.

  Feeling her face redden, Holly pointed to the phone, as if she were smiling about what the person on the other end had said. In a way, she was—or at least about her own reaction to it.

  “Since you’re busy, we men will go upstairs and get Tommy ready for bed. Okay, sport?”

  Her son beamed up at Gabe and gave him his hand.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Edie at the other end of the phone.

  “Nothing a nice, long bath won’t help,” Holly replied. The colder the better. “Gabe and Tommy just came in from their game of catch, and my son is filthy.”

  “Anyway, I called to see if you two wanted to grab dinner together tomorrow. But it sounds as if you might be busy.”

  “Maybe,” Holly said. A night out with her friend might be just the ticket to cool it with Gabe McLaren. But she hesitated to make any plans just then. “How about next week some time?”

  “Fine. I’ll be in touch.”

  After Holly hung up, she realized she’d forgotten to offer the guys some lemonade. She poured drinks into colorful plastic tumblers and brought them upstairs.

  Tommy was already in the tub, and Gabe and he were playing with boats and sponges. It was a delightfully domestic scene. They both seemed pleased about the lemonade. Holly went downstairs again till she heard them in Tommy’s bedroom. She returned in time to listen to Gabe reading a story.

  When he was done, Gabe said, “It’s time for the big decision, sport. Which kind of candy should I keep for kids at my office?”

  Without hesitation, Tommy said, “Chocolate,” and grinned.

  Holly laughed aloud as Gabe said, “Chocolate it is.”

  Elated, Holly gave
her son a good-night kiss. Gabe and she went downstairs together.

  As they sat in the living room, Holly on the sofa and Gabe in the reclining chair, she realized they were settling into a comfortable routine of sorts. She would have to stop it somehow.

  But first, she thanked Gabe—yet again—for getting Tommy to talk, even a little. She forbore from gritting her teeth in annoyance that her son kept talking to him instead of her.

  “You’re welcome.” His masculine grin set her senses reeling. How could a mere smile make her body fizz like newly opened champagne? She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  It didn’t help when Gabe turned serious. She was still aware of his very male presence when he leaned forward in the chair in a familiar position, his hands clasped between his knees. “I’m sorry you felt cooped up today, Holly. Tommy and you need to be protected. That’s a given. But you should be able to lead normal lives.”

  “How can we lead normal lives?” she asked disagreeably. “Thomas is gone, cops are constantly on my doorstep because you send them here and you’re inside my home. A lot.”

  His dark brows rose. He appeared amused at her irritation. But then his green eyes clouded over, the way the sea did when storm-challenged. “Yeah, I’m inside here a lot. And I’m a cop. I’ve gotten the impression you don’t like cops much, Holly. Care to explain why? You were married to one, after all.”

  No, she didn’t want to explain. She didn’t owe him a reason. Still, he had told her about his own difficult childhood. And maybe he’d simply leave her alone if he understood. But— “I think I need something stronger than lemonade for this,” she told him.

  He joined her in the kitchen and helped her open a bottle of merlot. With filled glasses, they returned to the living room—same places as before, when it had been his turn to make a deep, dark revelation.

  This was silly. She didn’t want to do it. She wouldn’t be able to flee when finished, as he had, since this was her home.

  And were they setting some absurd precedent—can you top this? Which of them could reveal the most miserable secret on this night?