by Beth Yarnall
“Hey, just taking care of something.”
“In the maternity ward? Something you need to tell me, man?”
“What? No. Hell no. I’m here about Lucy.”
Lucas raised his brows in reply.
“I guess you’re here with Mi,” Cal said, neatly changing the subject.
The nurse behind the counter slid a clipboard across to Cal. “If you’ll just sign here, Mr. Sellers, we’ll have that private room ready for Mrs. Walker when she delivers.”
Cal signed the form and slid it back. “Thank you for your help,” he told the nurse. “Anything she needs, you just send me the bill.” Picking up his hat, Cal motioned for Lucas to follow him a short distance away.
“What’s up?” Lucas asked.
“I’m glad Mi’s here. Lucy’s going to need her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t say anything to Mi about this yet. I don’t want this moment ruined for Lucy.” Cal lowered his voice even more. “Her husband isn’t going to be here to see his child born.” There was a bitterness to Cal’s words that made Lucas wonder if there had ever been anything personal between Cal and Lucy. “He’s been arrested.”
“Damn. What for?”
“Polygamy.”
“Are you shitting me?”
Cal’s lips flattened. “Wish I was.”
“How do you know about this and Lucy doesn’t?”
“I have my ways.”
Which meant Cal had something to do with Lucy’s husband’s arrest either directly or indirectly. Yeah, definitely something personal going on there.
Cal slid his hat on. “And as far as Lucy knows, I was never here.”
“You don’t want credit for the private room?”
“Like I said, I don’t want this moment ruined for Lucy. My being within a hundred feet of her—hell my being in the same city—would do it.” Cal started to back away. “I was never here.” He gave Lucas a two-fingered salute and sauntered away.
*****
Mi wasn’t sure if she was holding Lucy’s hand or not. It had gone numb sometime between Lucy’s second and fifth push. Everything was happening faster now. The doctor was there. Lucy’s son of a bitch husband wasn’t. Mi would never forgive him for leaving Lucy to give birth to their child alone. She’d left at least eight voicemail messages while Lucy screamed in the background.
“One, two, three… push!” the nurse coached.
“That’s it, Lucy. Good girl. I see the head. We’re almost there,” the doctor said.
“And rest.” The nurse replaced the oxygen mask over Lucy’s nose and mouth as she flopped back onto the bed.
Mi smoothed Lucy’s hair back. “You’re doing so good. Brie will be here before you know it.”
Lucy pulled the mask up. “Fuck him. I’m naming her Poppy like I wanted to.”
“That’s right. You’re doing all the work,” Mi soothed. “Name her whatever you want.”
“Again!” the nurse barked.
A few moments later Poppy came into the world screaming her lungs out. Mi swore she’d never seen a more perfect baby.
“She has red hair.” Lucy’s voice was full of wonder. “My grandma had red hair.”
“Strawberry blond,” Mi agreed. “And blue eyes. She’s so beautiful, Lucy.”
“Thank you for being with me.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I can’t believe Kevin wasn’t here.” She bent forward and kissed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, Mi. Where could he be?”
“I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“I want you to pick her middle name.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“Yes. You can.” Lucy dragged her arm across her eyes, wiping away her tears. “I want you to.”
“Okay.” Mi looked down at the baby and her mind went blank. All at once it hit her that this would be the only opportunity she’d ever have to name a child. She smoothed a hand over the soft down of the baby’s hair, totally awestruck by the enormity of her task. She was going to chose a name that would stay with this child forever. “Victoria.”
“Poppy Victoria Walker,” Lucy said, looking down at her sleeping daughter. “I like it.” She beamed up at Mi. “It’s fits her I think, don’t you?”
“Perfectly.”
Mi sat with her friend until Lucy’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. She left her with a promise to visit the next day and walked out into the hall where she found Lucas waiting for her. He rose from the chair he’d procured from somewhere and met her in the middle of the hallway.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s so small and perfect. Lucy was a champion. I don’t know how she did it without drugs.”
“With a lot of screaming and yelling from what I could hear.”
She chuckled and leaned into him. “That’s for sure.”
“Let’s go. It’s nearly dawn.” He put an arm around her and steered them to the elevator bank.
She suppressed a huge yawn that slid right back into the goofy smile she’d worn ever since little Poppy Victoria came into the world. “Lucy asked me to chose her middle name.”
“Yeah?”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the car. Lucas punched the button and the doors slid closed.
“I chose Victoria after my mother’s mother.” She sighed and leaned into him. “I can’t believe Kevin missed his daughter’s birth. I could kill him. He doesn’t deserve either one of them.”
The doors opened and they walked out of the elevator.
“Some people don’t realize what they’ve got until it’s gone,” he said.
Something about his words struck her. A hidden message meant for her perhaps? Was he issuing a warning? She looked up at him, but he gazed ahead, navigating them through the unusually crowded main entrance.
As they made their way to the exit, a large crowd came through the doors at once, pushing them back to one side. Someone knocked into her shoulder, sending her backward and out of Lucas’s embrace. He reached for her and then he was hit from the side, spinning him the other direction. Standing on tiptoes, she could see his head above the others and tried to move in that direction.
Something stroked her palm and then a fist closed around her hand. She turned to see who had touched her and was brushed back by a couple rushing through the doors. A man rushed past, shoving her shoulder and turning her into a woman who complained. She could no longer see Lucas. Panic swamped her. She swung her head one direction then the other, looking for him. Nothing.
A hand clamped down on her arm and she spun around to strike out. Lucas pulled her into his chest. She grabbed a hold of him with both hands, relieved to have finally found him. He steered them to an out of the way corner and wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, examining her.
She put a hand over her heart, which still beat out a ragged rhythm. She hadn’t noticed. In all the confusion, she didn’t realize that the stranger had pressed something into her palm. She held out her hand up and unfolded her fingers. A small square of white paper about one inch by one inch sat nestled in her palm.
“What is it?” Lucas asked.
She turned, first one way and then the other, trying to spot the person who could have put it there. Lucas grabbed her shoulder, bringing her back around to him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Somebody put this in my hand.”
He looked down at her palm, then around, his hand going for his gun. “Who? Where?” Grabbing her arm, he pulled her behind him. “Who was it? Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know. I got jostled and then somebody brushed my hand, pressing this paper into it. I never saw them.”
He backed her into a corner, all the while keeping her between him and the crowd. “Are you sure? Did they say anything to you?”
“No, nothing. Just this in my hand. What are all these people doing here at this hour?�
�
“I heard one of the nurses in maternity talking about a huge pile up on thirty-five. School buses or something.” He scanned the thinning crowd. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like this.”
Reaching back, he took her hand and pulled her until she was tucked along his side. He rushed her to the truck and had it in gear, backing out of the parking space before she could clamp her seat belt on. He took side streets, changing lanes, and turning until she wasn’t even sure they were pointed in the right direction. She didn’t take a real gulp of air until the gate of his parking garage rolled down after them.
Back in his apartment, Mi dropped the paper onto the coffee table and stared down at it as though it would rise up and eat her whole.
Lucas sat down next to her. “All right. Go over it again. Tell me everything you remember, any impressions or feelings you got. Anything.”
She closed her eyes and pictured it, then cursed herself for being so fixed on Lucas’s words about not appreciating someone until they were gone. If she’d paid better attention, she might have noticed more. She retold the story, pressuring her brain for more details until she’d worked herself into a headache.
“That’s all.” She finally gave up, feeling as though she’d let Lucas down in a whole new way.
“It’s late. You might remember more after some rest.”
“Hmm, maybe.” She pointed to the square of paper. “What do we do with that?”
“I’ll bag it up for Rolls and leave him a voice mail to call us—” He checked his watch. “—in about five or six hours. Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”
“Yeah.” She made a move to go, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Hey, you did good. Don’t beat yourself up. You had a really long night with Lucy. I’m sure the hospital has cameras that Rolls can access. With any luck he’ll get an image he can work with.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He released her and she trudged down the hall to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she entered the bedroom, the first rays of sunrise crested the horizon, beaming light of the new day into the room. She stood at the window for a moment, basking in the wonder of the dawn. New beginnings were supposed to bring hope and clarity, a chance to start over with the lessons learned from the day before.
If yesterday had taught her anything, it was that nothing stayed the same. Old aches could become new hurts, new hurts faded to aches. Joy could turn to sorrow, sorrow to joy. And that nothing was ever given that couldn’t be taken away.
She turned away from the window, feeling older than she should. The image of Lucy with her new daughter brought a smile to her face and just like that the world on her shoulders lifted a little.
*****
Lucas bagged up the square of paper and left a message for Rolls as he said he would. He jotted off a quick text to Cal to let him know that Lucy and the baby were okay. Cal hadn’t asked him to, but if it had been Mi he wouldn’t have slept until he knew all was well.
He lay down on the couch. He did his best thinking lying down. Now that he finally had a thinking couch, his thoughts dried up. Staring at the ceiling as the sun came up, he felt like a colossal failure. The bastard had gotten to Mi again. He was sure it was Gann. And with Lucas only feet away. Fuck. The look on Mi’s face as she opened her hand and showed him the paper.
Gooch jumped up on the couch and curled on top of his stomach. He didn’t have the energy to knock the cat off. Bits of thoughts sparked, but none took light. He couldn’t even chase one down to complete it. God, he was tired. He let his eyes drift closed, but sleep was a fickle bitch and didn’t see fit to visit him.
He wondered if Mi slept and if she did, did she dream? Did he make the cut? Did she ever imagine a future for them? Or did she keep him firmly in the here and now? He wondered why he tortured himself. What was it about that woman that turned him inside out and upside down until he wasn’t sure who or what he was to her? His gut churned, burning from the crappy hospital coffee the nurses had given him out of pity.
He tried to get a read Mi, but every time he thought he had her nailed, she pulled up his stakes and threw them in his face. God, he was a masochist. Or a fucking idiot. It was hard to tell which. And then he’d look into her amber eyes and his world would tilt, bringing his bubble back into plumb. Oh, she was the one for him all right. Now he just had to figure out a way to convince her of that.
The last thought he had before sleep finally came for him was of her, her belly rounded and full with his child.
Yup, he was a fucking idiot for sure.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mi woke up alone in the big bed. The light of mid-day beamed through the wall of screened windows onto the bed. The bottom of her stomach plummeted when she realized she’d slept the whole night alone. Scrambling out of bed, she tossed the covers aside and ran out into the living room. Empty. She looked in the kitchen. Also empty. The sick feeling in her stomach swelled until she had to put a hand out. She caught herself on the doorframe to the kitchen and tried to tamp down the rising panic.
And then she heard the soft buzz saw of his snore and sagged against the doorframe in relief. She found him lying on his back on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other hanging off the side of the couch nearly to the floor. He was still dressed in his clothes from the night before. The cat looked up at her from his place on Lucas’s stomach and meowed. She plucked Gooch up and cradled him under her chin. Why hadn’t Lucas come to bed?
He’d hardly touched her since pulling her mother off of her the day before. And now he’d slept on the couch instead of sharing the bed with her. She should be relieved he was pulling away from her. Their break would be so much easier if they both wanted it. And yet she couldn’t summon up any gladness. All that came was the pounding sadness that she would once again be alone. She could stand loneliness and had for too long, but now she’d have to endure it with the knowledge of what it was like to love and be loved by Lucas.
She reached out and fingered the lock of hair slanting across his forehead. He stirred and then his dark gaze fastened on hers, the intensity of his stare going through her like a bolt of lightening. Then his attention caught on the marks on her neck, a frown digging deep between his brows. Pulling her hand back, disappointment spread through her like a toothache. He didn’t see her the same anymore. The bruises her mother’s fingers had left behind were a brutal reminder of all the ways she had and would let him down.
His cell phone rang. So easily he turned away from her to answer it.
He dug it out of his pocket. “Hello? Yeah. Half an hour. See you then.” He hung up the phone and stood. “Rolls is on his way over.”
“I guess I’d better get dressed,” she replied.
*****
Rolls arrived with a ketchup stain on his tie and a cloud of sad resignation floating around him. He dropped into a recovered, over-stuffed chair Mi had picked up off the curb. “I’ve got some news,” he began. “We arrested your friend Tracey Casey for the studio bombin’ and murder of Davy Johnson. I’m sorry,” he added, with a nod for Mi.
“No. I don’t believe it,” Mi said.
Lucas reached over and grabbed Mi’s hand. “You have proof she did it?” he asked Rolls.
“Had enough to bring her in for questionin’. She’s confessed. Gave up everythin’ on that religious organization C.A.L.M. and their leader Cookie Dixon. I’m surprised ya’ll haven’t heard. Been all over the news. That senator and congresswoman who backed ‘em have been on every channel that would show their faces, tryin’ to talk their way out of it.”
“Confessed?” Mi leaned into Lucas’s shoulder, the heavy weight of disappointment and sorrow pressing down on her like a vice. She couldn’t believe it. Tracey had killed Davy. Had tried to kill her.
“Your friend Davy’s funeral’s tomorrow. One o’clock at the Pentecostal church on Bickers. You said you’d want to know,” Rolls said.
“Thank you,” Mi managed to wh
isper.
Rolls nodded in acceptance, his jowls collapsing like bellows. “Ya said you had somethin’ to show me?”
Lucas handed Rolls the plastic bag with the square of paper inside. “Mi was… given this at the hospital early this morning.”
Rolls examined the paper inside the bag, turning it back and forth in front of the window. “Can’t see nothin’.” Dropping his hand holding the bag between his legs, he looked at Mi. “Tell me what happened.”
Mi recited her story. She suddenly remembered something she’d left out before. “Peppermint. I remember getting a whiff of peppermint. Really strong.”
Rolls jotted that down in his notebook along with the other notes he’d made. “Anythin’ else?”
“No. That’s it. Sorry.”
“Do you want to know what the paper says?” Rolls asked.
Mi shook her head, then changed her mind. “Actually, yes. I would.”
Rolls pulled a pair of latex gloves from his suit pocket and drew the note out of the plastic bag. Lucas squeezed Mi’s hand as Rolls unfolded the small paper.
His brows wadded up over his nose. “I’m coming for you. Be ready,” he read.
“Jesus,” Lucas breathed.
Rolls put the note back in the bag. “Sorry.”
“Just please catch him so I can go back to my life, my home. I’m tired of being scared all the time.”
“I’m doing my best for you.” They rose as Rolls did and followed him to the elevator doors. He turned back. “I’m sorry ‘bout your friend. I’ll keep you updated as things go along. And if I hear anythin’ on Gann, I’ll letchya know.”
“Thank you, detective,” Lucas said, shaking his hand.
“Yes, thank you.” Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, Mi wrapped her arms around herself and headed down the hall to the bedroom. She leaned against the window. The city gleamed below, people going about their day as though nothing bad would ever happen to them. She’d been one of those people once.
How could she have been so wrong about Tracey? They’d worked so closely together, saw each other everyday. They went out for drinks, dinner, caught a movie now and then. How could Tracey have done this? Had she been planning this all along? Had Tracey faked their friendship to advance C.A.L.M.’s agenda? Had Tracey only been friendly just so she could get close enough to kill? God.
