“I’d say thanks, but—”
“No thanks needed. I know it might sound cornball, but when I started snooping around I got an earful. Your reputation precedes you.”
“What exactly did you hear?” Alex asked warily.
“That underneath that aloof exterior, it’s all mush.”
Alex threw up his hands. “My darkest secret laid bare. How much is it gonna cost me to keep it to yourself?”
“I heard all about the coat drive for homeless kids you started,” the chief continued, ignoring Alex’s self-effacement. “How you took that boy from the projects under your wing when his dad was murdered, helping him write his college applications. . .”
“Aw, shoot.” Alex squirmed. “’T’weren’t nothin.’ ”
“. . . the scholarship fund you set up for that brainy girl in the wheelchair whose family didn’t have a pot to piss in. By the way. How is it that didn’t make it onto your job résumé?”
Alex looked at his watch. “Are we about done here? ’Cause I just remembered, the mayor wants to give me a key to the city.”
“Don’t get carried away with yourself. Nobody said you were perfect. Despite the snarkasm, you got a lot to offer. You were exactly what I was looking for on my team. A straight shooter. A good communicator.”
Alex looked around. “You talking to me?”
“Obviously, you’re no Shakespeare. Look at it this way. You claim you weren’t feeling connected or appreciated. This boxing thing could be just what the doctor ordered.” He swiveled around to glance at the big round wall clock. “Well,” he sighed, rising from his chair. “It’s almost seven. Wife’s chorale’s putting on a show tonight. Thank God it’s finally here. They’ve been practicing since January. Five months of fending for myself two nights a week is long enough.”
“You’ve missed her,” marveled Alex out loud. He’d have thought a man married as long as someone the chief’s age would relish a free pass twice a week.
“You ever been married?”
“Once, a long time ago.”
“You might find this hard to believe, but ask anyone. When Louisa’s not home, I’m like a lost baby fawn.”
Alex regarded Chief Garrett’s steely forearms extending from his rolled-up sleeves. Despite the glints of silver in his hair, he was still an impressive male specimen by any standards. He arched a brow.
“Just wait,” said the chief. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.”
Every now and again, another of that rare breed of men who’d found his perfect match hinted at the same. But at Alex’s age, it seemed less and less likely that that was what fate had in store for him. A few years after his divorce, loneliness finally forced him to go out again occasionally. But by now, the plaster in the wall he’d built around his heart seemed to have permanently set. He had developed a hard and fast rule—three dates, max, with the same woman.
“This is Louisa’s ninth year singing with chorale,” said the chief. “You know. ‘Orpheus with His Lute’? ‘Lift Thine Eyes, Elijah’?” At Alex’s blank expression, he sighed and said, “Maybe you don’t. Chorale music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
“So, barring another crisis like the one we had today, I can count on you to go over and meet with Gene Lovatt, the boxing coach, Thursday morning, then?” said the chief, standing and retucking his shirttail.
Alex stood, grateful to finally stretch his legs. “Yessir.”
Chapter Five
Coach Lovatt was giving Alex the grand tour of the corner of the Community Center set aside for the boxing classes.
“The building is already equipped with free weights and treadmills. I bought an assortment of gloves, some handwraps, jump ropes, a pair of heavy bags, and two speed bags. That’s it for now. Most important thing was making sure we’re in compliance with state and local regs. That, and liability insurance. And we’ve already given the school coupons good for a free introductory lesson. They promised to give one to every student.”
Alex looked around, hands propped on his hips. “How old does a kid have to be to do this?”
“Holyfield started when he was eight years old and weighed sixty-five pounds.”
“You don’t think—”
“No. We’re not looking for the next Holyfield. I’m not even sure if we’ll get into actual sparring. That’s why I didn’t invest in headgear. Yet. Would I love to have a ring? You bet. But we don’t happen to have an extra five grand lying around. Maybe someday I’ll look in to crowd funding. Right now, our goal is to give a foundation in the basics. You know. Conditioning, punching, stance, footwork. In the end, this is just about providing a place where kids can get into shape and feel better about themselves and learn self-confidence.”
“Chief said you’re a certified trainer?”
Gene nodded. “I’ve paid my dues. Placed in sanctioned and amateur shows around the state. For me, boxing was an escape from the streets. Now I’m paying it back.”
Alex nodded. “I’ve heard your name somewhere along the way. Didn’t know you hailed from around here. So, what’s the schedule?”
“Thursdays after school, three thirty till four fifteen.”
“I work a ten-hour variable shift, four days a week. There’ll be days when I can’t show. Plus, any time there’s a major incident, there’s a good chance I’ll get called to the scene.”
Gene reached out to shake Alex’s hand. “You got a built-in background check, and I’m willing to bet your TB test is up-to-date. I’ll take what I can get.”
* * *
Kerry scheduled an appointment with Shay’s guidance counselor during a time when classes were in session. She didn’t want kids passing through the halls to see her there and then tease Shay about her mom coming to her rescue.
While she waited in the principal’s office, she pulled Ella’s stick-family portrait out of her bag and studied it. Ella had drawn Kerry vastly larger than everyone else, a clear sign she saw her as the leader. Then, in descending order of height, came Shay, Chloé, and finally herself. All four were clustered in the center of the paper. At the far edge was a male figure about the size of Shay. That couldn’t be anyone else but Ella’s father.
Dick had made all sorts of noise when Kerry insisted on separating, but within a year his visits had tapered off to the point where now the girls had stopped asking about him.
And after yet another failed relationship, Kerry had vowed to expend 100 percent of her energy on her girls from now on.
Yet this drawing was a sign Ella hadn’t completely forgotten her father.
“Did Shay have any problems with fighting when she lived in Portland?” asked the counselor when they finally sat down together.
“Shay had lots of friends at her old school. That’s what makes this so hard. She doesn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Did Shay in any way use physical force in this confrontation with Helena?”
“Shay? Never. My girls don’t fight. I’m a criminal defense attorney. I’ve seen where physical aggression leads. I’m bringing my children up to settle their differences with words, not their fists.
“Like I told you on the phone, Helena accused Shay of poaching her boyfriend and threatened to punch her. I won’t stand for my daughter being victimized.”
“Rightly so. If you give me the names of everyone involved, I promise to follow up with her teachers and the administration. And don’t worry, they’ll never know how I found out. But back to Shay. How are you handling it with her?”
“I told her to stay where there are people at all times and to continue to defend herself verbally.”
The guidance counselor picked up a leaflet on the corner of her desk and handed it to Kerry. “I’m not sure what you’ll think of this idea, but the Community Center is starting a boxing class.”
Kerry took the flyer and skimmed down the page. “Boxing? I just told you, we don’t hit in our family. This is the antithesis of what I advised my daughter to do. Not only that, Shay’s
got a small frame. A great sense of style. And her thing is playing with makeup. I know she’s kind of young for that, but she’s been really lonely since we moved here, and it’s something she can do by herself. My point is, Shay’s not exactly what I picture when I think of women boxers.”
“I’m not saying it’s right for everybody. But if you read further down, it says it’s not so much about combat as it is fitness and building self-confidence.”
Kerry set the flyer back in the pile. “I don’t think so.”
“Shay should have already gotten one of these from her teacher. I wonder what she thinks about it.”
“She did?”
“You didn’t see it in her backpack?”
Kerry shook her head. Between everything else she had to remember to do on a daily basis, going through Shay’s backpack had slipped through the cracks.
“Shay’s already at the Community Center after school, isn’t she? That would eliminate you having to drive her to the class. Why don’t you just take this with you and talk to her about it?” the guidance counselor said, handing the flyer back to her with a kind smile.
Kerry bit her lip and sighed. She had to do something.
“I’ll talk it over with her. But I doubt it’s going to work.”
* * *
“What have we got?” Alex asked Gene on the first day of boxing classes, rubbing his hands together, trying to work up some enthusiasm about his latest obligation.
A couple of nervous-looking kids were hanging in the doorway, stealing curious glances at the bags suspended at varying heights from the ceiling.
Gene read from the forms on his tablet. “Two boys, ten and twelve. And a girl.”
“A girl?” Alex hadn’t been expecting girls. Though why not, he didn’t know. Girls did everything boys did now, didn’t they? Still . . . in his dinosaur point of view, there was something about girls and throwing punches that just didn’t mix.
“Her guidance counselor suggested it to her mom. She’s being pushed around a little at school.”
“Good thing I’m not a teacher. If I caught kids bullying, I’d have to use one as a club to beat the other.”
Gene coughed and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m thinking it might be best if you stick to the after-school programs.”
The clock on the wall said three thirty. “Time to start,” said Alex. “What do you want to do about the girl?”
“I’ll be surprised if she even shows. How ’bout I get these two warmed up on the treadmills down the hall? Be back in about five. If the girl shows up, bring her down?”
Left alone, Alex did a slow circuit of the room. If he had to be here, he wished he had more to do than just assist. From other parts of the building he heard kids yelling, the squeal of rubber soles on a gym floor, and the bouncing of basketballs.
He pulled his gloves from his gym bag, Velcroed them on, and started hitting the speed bag, his hands finding a familiar rhythm.
A minute into his warm-up, he saw two figures from the corner of his eye. He stilled the bag between his gloves and turned to greet them, and it was all he could do to hide his shock when he saw Kerry O’Hearn for the second time in as many weeks with her hand resting protectively on the back of a junior version of herself.
The girl Gene claimed was being hassled was Kerry O’Hearn’s daughter?
And now, out of every boxing instructor in the Pacific Northwest, it was falling to Alex in his volunteer CRT role, to teach her daughter self-defense? The old adage was true—no good deed goes unpunished.
With his teeth, he ripped back the Velcro on his glove to free his right hand as he walked up to them.
Kerry’s eyes met his . . . not from far across the oak-paneled courtroom of Pioneer Courthouse where Alex had watched her forge her reputation as a ruthless litigator, or at an angle in the dimly lit Turning Point saloon. Here, face-to-face in the Community Center, a place built for the very purpose of bringing people together. And her eyes were far from stone cold. In fact, he saw the last thing he’d ever expected to see in them: vulnerability.
Kerry blinked. “Er, hello.”
For years, Alex thought there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see Kerry O’Hearn squirm. But no matter what their issues, the kid was hardly to blame.
“Aren’t you . . . ?”
He looked down at the hand with short, clear-polished nails held out to him in greeting. As well as he felt he knew the counselor, it seemed impossible they had never touched. Now there was no way around it.
“Alex Walker.” After all this time, her palm pressed firmly against his felt somehow momentous.
“Detective Alex Walker,” she said.
“That’s right.” He dropped her hand and spun on his heel to leave her there to wait for Gene.
“What are you doing”—she looked around—“here?”
Reluctantly, he turned back around. “Community service. New department policy, whether we want to or not.” Just in case he hadn’t made enough of an ass of himself at the bar with his stupid lawyer joke. “If you’re looking for the guy in charge, he’s down the hall in the room with the treadmills, getting the other kids warmed up. Should be back any minute.”
“I’m Kerry O’Hearn,” she said with her usual poise. “And this is my daughter, Shay.”
He’d momentarily forgotten about the girl. But then, Kerry’s personal life had never been of interest to him. His grudge was for professional reasons.
Now he examined her daughter more closely. She had Kerry’s facial features in miniature, including those sensitive, intelligent eyes, but she was darker complected, and where Kerry’s head was sleek, Shay’s was a mass of curls.
Lucky. Envy of Kerry O’Hearn’s good fortune stabbed at him, followed immediately by self-loathing for his jealousy.
“Pleased to meet you, Shay.”
Her eyes on her feet, Shay accepted his hand in a weak, rubbery grip.
Alex softened. It wasn’t the kid’s fault she’d been born to a shark without a conscience.
“Always look a person in the eye when you shake hands with him.”
The girl blinked and looked up. “Huh?”
He hated that eyes that young could harbor such despair. “Let’s try that again. I’m Coach Walker.” He extended his hand again. “And you are?”
“Shay,” she repeated with an impossible blend of surprise and insolence.
“Better.”
“I’m not staying.”
“Shay,” warned Kerry.
“I’m not staying.”
“You got something better to do?” asked Alex.
“Maybe,” Shay spat.
“Like what?”
She thought for a second. “Studying.”
“Studying what?”
“Pre-algebra.”
Alex pulled a face. “You know how much pre-algebra you’re going to be using once you’re out of school? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“A cosmetologist,” she said, warily, and with a little less attitude.
He frowned. “A cosme—”
“Cosmetologist,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes at his profound ignorance. “Someone who works at the makeup counter at Sephora, like at the mall at Tigard.”
“Oh, that kind of cosmetologist. I don’t know much about makeup, but something tells me an A in pre-algebra isn’t going to help you much.”
“Excuse me?” Kerry cocked a brow.
“I’ve never set foot in a Sephora,” he continued, “but their cosmetologists are probably trained to sell that makeup they put on girls like you. Everyone knows selling anything, whether it’s cars or insurance or makeup, takes confidence. Get good at selling one-on-one and next thing you know, people are going to want to know how you do it. You’re going to be standing in front of groups of people, demonstrating your awesome skills. And you never know where that could lead. Teaching cosmetology. Working for a big makeup company. Who knows? You could have your own YouTube channel, showing
people how to use makeup.”
The spark of hope in Shay’s eyes when she looked up at her mother was such a small thing, but it made Alex want to punch the air in euphoria.
“But there’s something you need to learn to do that or any one of a million other roads cosmetology might take you down, and that’s self-confidence. And I know a surefire way to get that. I can train you to be confident enough to face just about any situation that comes up. Any person, friend . . . or foe.
“Isn’t that right, Mom?” Alex asked Kerry without looking at her.
Shay looked at Kerry again for confirmation, but her mother withheld judgment.
“Tell you what,” Alex said to Shay. “Give it one session. Forty five—” He glanced at the clock. “Forty minutes. If you don’t like it,” he shrugged, “don’t come back.”
“Who’s the parent here?” asked Kerry coolly.
His first five minutes as a boxing coach and he’d already blown it. Alex immediately backed away, holding up his hands. “Sorry. I’m new at this.”
“What’s going on?” asked Gene, walking up behind Alex, trailed by the other students.
Alex and Kerry began talking at the same time.
“Officer Walker has an interesting way of selling your—”
“I was explaining to Shay and her mom that you need to develop self-confidence, that is, unless you want to suck at life—”
Gene silenced Alex with a hand on his shoulder. “You mind showing the boys how to do some stretches, now that they’re warmed up?”
“Sure.” Alex backtracked to where the boys stood, watching and waiting. “Good to meet you, Shay.”
He was certain the next time he turned around, Shay and Kerry would be gone.
* * *
“So, you’re Shay,” said the man in charge.
“Yessir.” Shay looked him in the eye as she took his hand.
Kerry took a step toward him. “Look, Mr., um—”
“Gene Lovatt. The kids call me Coach.”
“Mr. Lovatt. Coach. I’m not sure this is the right thing for Shay. She—”
“It’s fine,” said Shay, giving Kerry an exasperated look. “I can talk for myself.”
First Comes Love Page 4
