by Lynde Lakes
Jen recognized that desperate emotional need and fought it in herself. Having no male role models in her life, she tended to seek out men to be father figures and brothers. After the breakup with Lee, she’d even tried to keep him around as the brother she’d never had, but he wouldn’t have any of that. He’d laughed and said, “Unless there’s incest involved, forget it.”
His comment made her even more certain that he wasn’t the man for her. And she told him that. So why had he come by to see her? He had claimed it was to ask her a question. But what was the question?
The middle boy was still gazing up at York like he was Superman. Maybe the child’s fascination with York was simply because of his rapport with children. The toddler in the post office had been charmed by him too. It was obvious York enjoyed kids, and they seemed to gravitate to him as if they knew it.
Shelly looked up from her son. “Sorry for the interruption. What were you asking?”
“Sniffles told me you two were having problems,” Jen said in her most sympathetic tone.
“That’s putting it mildly. I broke up with him. I feel terrible about that. It made him even more alone.”
“If you loved Sniffles, why did you break up with him?”
Shelly sighed. “He couldn’t stay clean. He tried. I had to end it for my kids.”
“Yet you planned to extract deleted information from the mayor’s hard drive for him,” Jen said, trying to connect all the pieces.
Fear flickered in Shelly’s eyes. “He told you about that?” She pressed her forehead with trembling fingers. “I shouldn’t have agreed to do it. Honest, I called it off.”
“But at first you went along.”
“Not right away.” Shelly stroked her son’s fine brown hair. “But it’s tough making ends meet with three kids. I was doing okay until Jeffy needed expensive asthma medicines.” She bit the corner of her lip. “The prescriptions weren’t covered by my medical plan.”
Jen felt something squeeze her heart. She made a mental note to find out why the medicines weren’t covered. If she could, she’d help Shelly straighten that out. “So you had to make a choice.”
“Yes. I got two months behind in rent. The landlord threatened to evict me, and my utilities got cut off, then my car broke down. Sniffles gave me all the cash he had. But it wasn’t enough.”
York sent Jen a look that she read as doubting. She agreed with his assessment that maybe Shelly wasn’t telling the whole truth. Maybe more money flowed from her to Sniffles than the other way around. A man on drugs could be a tremendous drain on a household. “So Sniffles pressured you to do the job for him?”
Shelly nodded. “He made it sound so easy. All I had to do was pull some deleted stuff off a computer’s hard drive.”
“Computer forensics takes special knowledge. Where did you learn it?”
“Before I worked for the mayor, I worked for the State as a data-recovery consultant. Computer crimes. I gave testimony in high-profile cases, stuff like that.”
“Do you do the same kind of work at Kesslers?”
“Pretty much. I protect their system from computer crimes.”
Jen wondered if Shelly’s computer had been one of those used to send the threatening e-mails. If so, by whom? And how? “It sounds like a well-paying job.” Before Jen could catch herself, a challenging tone had slipped into her voice.
“Oh, I get what you’re thinking. You wonder why the cost of medicine broke my budget.” She gave an indignant twitch to her shoulders. “I’m not an addict like Sniffles.”
Jen had no reason to believe her, especially noting her frailness, yet she did. “What about child support?”
Shelly laughed bitterly. “Never got anything from my ex but a slew of debt.”
Jen moaned to herself. She had no right to judge this woman. “So Sniffles had the answer to your money problems?”
“I didn’t want to get involved. Mayor O’Brien was good to me when I worked for him.” Shelly jiggled her baby against her breast, careful not to disturb Jeffy, who now sucked his thumb as he continued to rest his head on her lap. “But Sniffles said the mayor was a crook, and I’d be helping the police get him.”
Awareness flickered in York’s eyes.
She wondered what he knew about all this, and if the young mother was once again holding something back.
Shelly took a deep breath and continued, “When I backed out, Sniffles came up with the money for me anyway.” Her mouth quivered. “Now, I wonder if that’s why he got killed. Maybe when he couldn’t come up with the information he’d promised to deliver, the buyer killed him. Or maybe it was his former drug connection…or loan sharks.” Tears filled her eyes. “I feel so guilty.”
Jen felt a surge of compassion. What would she do if faced with a single mom’s problems? She knew the answer. She’d do whatever it took to provide for her children.
York leaned forward. “Did he get someone else to do the job?”
“He planned to ask this guy Joel, a computer hacker he’d met at the drug rehab center.”
Suddenly, Jeffy began to gasp for air. Shelly thrust the baby into Jen’s arms and grabbed her gasping son. The young mother looked at York with terror in her eyes. “I need to get him to the ER fast. Hospital’s in the next block.”
York jumped up, lifting the boy sitting on his lap as he rose. He stood the boy on his feet. “Let’s go,” he said. He turned to Jen. “Can you handle things here?”
The baby began to cry. The boy who’d been on York’s lap joined the baby’s howls and ran to Shelly and clung to her pant leg. Jeffy, the boy in Shelly’s arms was turning blue.
Holding the screaming baby crooked in one arm, Jen dragged the other boy from his mother’s leg. “Piece of cake,” she said, without the slightest idea how to soothe two terrified children.
****
York gave a sigh of relief when the ER emergency team took over and rushed the boy away on a gurney. “Everything will be all right now,” he told Shelly.
“I want to go with him,” Shelly screamed, sobbing hysterically. “My son. Oh, God, my son is dying!”
York felt for Shelly. Her loss of control was understandable. Although this single mom was clearly used to handling crises alone and had years of dealing with a child with asthma, yesterday she’d lost the man she loved and from what she’d said was feeling a lot of guilt along with the grief. And now she had a son in crisis.
A burly aide held her back. “He’s in good hands, ma’am,” he said. “You’ll only upset him if he sees you in this condition. As soon as you calm down, I’ll take you to him.” The aide looked at York with a pleading expression. The dark circles under the aide’s eyes revealed he’d already had a rough day. “Try to calm your wife down. The team with your boy is the best.”
York didn’t have time to play along. He flashed his badge, knowing it usually got action. “I’m just a friend. Can’t you get a doctor to prescribe something to relax her? I have to leave.”
“We’re really busy, Officer. I’ll look for a doctor. Just stay with her for a few minutes. I’ll get someone as quickly as I can.”
York put his arm around the sobbing mother and guided her to a nearby couch. Dammit, he needed to get back to Jen, but how could he leave a hysterical woman? He glanced down at Shelly. Was it safe to get a doctor to prescribe something to a woman who’d been mixed up with a drug user? She claimed to be clean herself, but could he believe her? He’d have to brief the doctor on the situation, and let him decide.
Shelly clung to York’s arm. “I need to be with my son,” she screamed. “Why won’t they let me go to him?”
“Easy. Quiet down and they will, soon.”
“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed.
“I’ll stay a while,” he said. What else could he do? He was between a rock and a hard place. He squeezed her shoulder. “Jeffy’ll be up and doing a jig before you know it. We got him here in time.” Shelly’s sobs subsided, but she held onto him with a death grip. Some
how, he managed to get to his cell phone. “I’ll check on Jen and your other children for you.” He had entered Shelly’s number into his cell when they made the appointment earlier that morning.
She nodded and eased her hold. He punched in the number. It rang busy. He waited a minute and punched the buttons again. Still busy.
“Lissa. Buddy. Are they okay?” She asked with a tremor in her voice.
“Line’s busy. I’ll keep trying.” He tried the line again. Busy. Not a good sign. He hated unknowns. But he couldn’t let himself get worked up. Everything was fine. Probably.
If a killer wasn’t stalking Jen, he wouldn’t be worried at all. Even with screaming kids and an emergency going on, she had kept her cool. He would’ve expected a career woman like her to object to being left with a couple of squalling kids. But she didn’t bat an eye. Piece of cake, she had said. He knew better than that, and he admired her spirit.
He dialed again. Still busy. A prickle stiffened the fine hairs at the back of his neck.
Something didn’t feel right. He quickly called the PD dispatcher and ordered a patrol unit to check on Jen. Shelly’s apartment was just a block away. He could get there before the unit. Damn. He couldn’t stay here and worry—and he couldn’t leave Shelly. What the hell was he going to do?
****
Jen noticed that the boy had knocked the receiver off the phone cradle. She replaced it as she bounced the baby with one arm. When she grabbed the boy’s hand again, he jerked away and threw himself onto the carpet and kicked his feet.
Darn, she should be able to handle two small children. She took a shaky breath. Please, let this work. In a voice loud enough to drown out the children’s cries, she began to yodel, something she learned from a country singer she’d dated. Shelly’s baby girl and small son stopped crying and stared up at her with wide, glistening eyes as if she were a character on Sesame Street. The boy got to his feet.
Yea! Success! Keeping a Western twang in her voice, she switched from the yodel to singing. To the tune of “Take Me Out To The Ball Game”, she sang, “Take me out to the kitchenette. Show me where the cookies and crackers are hidden.”
Through drying tears, the boy laughed loudly, revealing adorable dimples.
Balancing the cooing baby on her hip, she grabbed the boy’s hand and swung it in time to her singing, while gesturing with her head toward the kitchenette. Jen squeezed past the apartment-sized refrigerator to get to the high chair. She secured the baby in it and handed her a set of toy plastic measuring spoons. Jen couldn’t get over the cramped quarters. The microwave took up most of the counter space, and a metal card table and its two chairs occupied most of the floor area. She shook her head. She had a huge two-bedroom place for just herself, and Shelly had to jam her little family into this congested studio. It didn’t seem right.
The boy clambered onto a chair next to the baby.
“So, what’s your name, little man?”
“Me Buddy,” he said thrusting out his chest proudly. “And she Lissa.” He tickled the baby’s foot. A loose thread hung from the baby’s sock.
Jen quickly broke it free, but not fast enough to block the image that flashed in her mind—the twine around Sniffles’ neck, his bulging eyes. Trying to block out the grisly image and trying to ignore the rap music that suddenly blared through an adjoining wall, she said, “Glad to meet you both.” She bent in a deep curtsy. God, please let me forget about the strangler for a while so I can keep these children happy.
Buddy laughed. “You a fairy princess.”
She ruffled his hair. “And you’re the frog.”
He slid from the chair, got down on all fours, and sprang up, making a croaking sound.
“Okay, Frog-boy, let’s see what we can find in the cupboard.” The only thing that didn’t require cooking was a box with half a roll of Ritz crackers. “Ah, look! We’ve found a treasure.” She danced around with the red and blue box like a klutzy ballerina.
Buddy giggled. “Do again.”
She did a few more steps as she opened the tiny refrigerator. “Another find,” she squealed in her most delighted voice, gesturing with a can of Cheese Whiz. She took the food to the card table, and squeezed the spread on the salty rounds. Buddy climbed back up on the chair to watch. She smiled at him. “Want me to teach you to yodel?”
He nodded, his chin almost touching his chest with each big nod. She gave him a simple lesson, wobbling her voice up and down like a roller coaster ride. When he tried, he sounded like pint-sized Tarzan. Laughing, she grabbed a glass with a picture of a giraffe on it, and poured him some milk to go with the crackers.
He took a big gulp, sloshing a white film above his upper lip. “I saw lion. Real one.” Curling his fingers into claws, he demonstrated its fierce growl.
Jen growled back at him. To her surprise she was having a wonderful time. The only dark clouds were the unshakable sense that the strangler was nearby and her concern for Buddy’s brother. While Buddy ate, she made a quick call to the hospital and from a hospital contact she’d used in the past, she learned that Jeffy was stabilized. “Your brother’s fine,” she said as she hung up.
“’Course,” Buddy said, dancing his last cracker in front of him like a toy dinosaur.
Jen took Lissa from the high chair to the couch, where she cuddled her and gave her the rest of her bottle. Buddy leapt from his chair in the kitchenette and ran, skidding in front of Jen, almost knocking a lamp off the table.
“Easy, partner,” she said.
He grabbed a sheet of Mickey Mouse stick-ons from the end table and handed them to her. She peeled off a couple, and placed them on his hands. He clapped in delight. “You, too,” he demanded.
Laughing, she peeled off another. “Where shall I put it?”
He reached up and patted her cheek with chubby fingers. She pasted the sticker on the spot, still warm from his baby-soft touch. She blinked away the puzzling rush of moisture that pushed at the back of her eyes.
“I know secret.” He twisted about like a wriggly puppy.
She cleared her throat. “Really? I love secrets. Tell me.”
Buddy grabbed her arm and yanked on it. “I show you.”
“Easy, sweetie. Let’s not jostle Lissa.” Jen struggled to her feet. Buddy grabbed her hand and dragged her to a closet door across from the bathroom. When she opened it, he disappeared behind the clothes. She parted them and shook her head; the little dickens was climbing up some rungs on the wall. He pointed to a covered crawl space in the ceiling. “Me go up there.”
Balancing the baby on her hip, she grabbed Buddy off the makeshift ladder. “No, I don’t think so, partner.”
“Mommy put presents up there. Me see.”
Jen shivered. “Not a good idea. How about a story?”
She took his hand and headed for the couch. He broke away and ran to an overflowing metal chest full of toys and dug through it, sending items flying, apparently searching for his favorite book buried somewhere in the disorder. He grinned when he found it and brought it to her.
Huddled together over the dog-eared pages, she soon learned that Buddy was more interested in telling her about the pictures than hearing the actual story. He’d memorized the plot enough to spout an imaginative version that sent them both into a giggling fit.
Someone pounding on the door stilled their laughter. Buddy jumped off the couch and raced to the entry. “Sniffles!” he shouted with glee.
Jen stiffened. It couldn’t be Sniffles. Sniffles was dead. Gripping the baby to her breast, she ran after Buddy, reaching him just before he grabbed the door knob. She quickly jammed the security bolt into the locked position. “Wait, honey,” she whispered, then in a stronger voice she called, “Who is it?”
Silence.
She called again. Still no answer.
Buddy jumped up and down. “Me open. Me open.”
“Let me look out the peephole first, sweetie.” She closed one eye and put the other to the pea-sized hole. Her heart thu
dded against her ribs. Whoever was out there, they stood out of sight. If it were York, he’d call to her and stand where she could see him.
Jen flinched as the pounding started again. The baby began to cry. She bounced Lissa on her hip, crooning, “Hush, hush.” Still unnerved from the break in last night, she tried again to get a glimpse of the heavy-fisted caller. This didn’t feel right. If only she had her gun. But she’d expected to be with York and never dreamed—
“Open door,” Buddy insisted, yanking on her slacks. He stood on his tiptoes and stretched upward, making a grunting sound.
She grabbed him around the waist and whirled him away from the door. “A bad man might be out there,” she said, keeping her voice steady. She hated to scare Buddy, but she had to tell him something. “We need to call 911.”
His face lit up. He spun around, and raced ahead of her, getting to the phone first. “Me dial.” He began to jab numbers at random.
She shifted the baby to her other arm, and grabbed the receiver out of Buddy’s hand. He scrunched up his pixie face. Oh, no. Don’t throw another tantrum. “You can help! Watch me.” She jammed the hang-up button and redialed.
The line rang. The door rattled.
Someone, please, hurry. She couldn’t wait. She had to block the door. She thrust the phone into Buddy’s hands. His eyes widened. Let him be able to do this. “Be a big boy. Tell the dispatcher we need help. Now!”
Quickly, Jen put the baby on the couch and blocked her from the edge with a pillow. She ran to the metal chest jammed full of toys and, using all her strength, shoved it forward and barricaded the door.
The door knob stilled. She stared at it, shivering at the dead silence.
Out in the corridor, she heard glass breaking. There weren’t any windows nearby, but there was a fire box with a glass cover. An alarm began to ring. It scared the baby and the infant started to cry. Jen snatched her up in her arms and patted her back.
