by Dana Mentink
She nodded. “He was terrified.”
He was silent for a moment, eyes shifting in thought. “Okay. I’m going to walk you up to your apartment and I think you’d better pack some things and go stay with your mother tonight, right after we call the police.”
He let her in and checked the small space. Everything was untouched, no sign of a stranger’s intrusion.
She gasped. “Tim. I just thought of something. What about Moe? Why didn’t Cyril just talk to him? Do you think he’s okay?”
“As a matter of fact, I know he’s okay. I just saw him.”
“Where?”
“On the way over here I saw Moe and his mother at the ice-cream shop. I said hello and introduced myself. Madge said to tell you her sister had so many church people helping her out there was no need to stay so she’s back in town. Moe is going to sleep at her house for a few days.”
Ivy sagged in relief, collapsing onto the sofa. “Cyril gave him something and my guess is somebody wants it back. At least Moe’s safe for the night. We’d better call him tomorrow, too.”
Tim pushed his own growing concern aside and took her hand. “We’ll get this all straightened out, Ivy.”
She swallowed. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m sure I’ll be fine here tonight. I don’t need to go to my mother’s.”
He folded his arms, not surprised by her sudden refusal. “Yes, you do.”
“I promise I’ll lock the door.”
“Uh-uh. You’re going to your mom’s.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what if I don’t?”
“I’ll call your mother and tell her the situation.”
“And what if I still don’t agree?”
He considered for a moment. “Then I’ll throw you over my shoulder in a perfect fireman’s carry and lug you down to the car myself. You can kick and scream but one way or another, you’re going.”
“You would do that?”
“To keep you safe? Oh, yeah. I would do that.”
She watched him, wide-eyed. “Okay. I’ll go pack a few things.”
“Very good choice.”
Detective Spencer Greenly laced his fingers across his wide belly as he listened to Tim and Ivy tell the story. A gum-wrapper chain looped through the top handle of his file cabinet.
Tim wished he could read the expression on his face, but it was impossible. Occasionally he tamped down his salt-and-pepper mustache and made a note on his yellow pad.
Ivy told Greenly about Moe, his relationship with Cyril and proximity to the fire.
Tim added a few details to complete the picture, including the dangers Ivy had encountered.
With a sigh, the detective unwrapped a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth. He noted their looks. “Trying to quit smoking. So you think Cyril is being followed?”
Tim frowned. “Well, someone is after him, and I’m afraid they are going to go after Moe since apparently Cyril gave him something.”
Greenly’s look gave nothing away. “We’ll talk to Moe, but you say he’s pretty…noncommunicative?”
Ivy joined in. “Strangers scare him. It took three years before he’d talk to me, and I’m his neighbor.”
The officer nodded. “I’m sure his mother will let us into the apartment to take a look around. Did Cyril say what he’d given to Moe?”
Ivy shook her head. “No. He was in a real hurry to go. I don’t think he intended to talk to me at all, but Moe wasn’t home so he got desperate.”
Tim shifted on the hard chair, stomach clenching with the thought. “I’m concerned that Ivy is in some kind of danger.”
“Hard to say. In view of the fact that someone tried to burn down Cyril’s house with him inside, I’d say Cyril is the one in real danger at the moment. Just to be sure, we’ll assign someone to drive by her complex and keep an eye on things when they can.”
Tim leaned forward. “Will that be enough?”
The barest of smiles curled Greenly’s mustache. “It will have to be. This isn’t exactly a bustling department. We’ve only got three officers and a staff of volunteers. Our most faithful volunteer traffic officer just turned seventy-two.
“Before you go, take a look at this for me.” Greenly opened a file and slid a picture across the table to them. “Recognize this guy? Is he the one who was following you?”
“No, but I saw him at the basketball game. Who is he?”
“He goes by a lot of names. Sam Shoemaker is his current nom de plume. He’s connected to some bad people, people who don’t like to be cheated out of what’s theirs.”
Tim started as though he’d been given an electric shock. A suspicion flared in his brain like a flame flicking to life. “Like the mob?”
“Exactly like the mob. We’ve been aware that he’s been in town for a few weeks. Got an officer keeping tabs on him as much as possible. So far he’s not guilty of anything, but there’s got to be a reason he’s come to our sleepy hamlet. Next time you see him, call me immediately.” He handed Ivy and Tim his card. “He’s not the kind of guy you want to have a chat with, you know?”
He had no doubt the detective was right.
Ivy shook her head as they left. “What’s going on here, Tim? This is turning into a real mess.”
He pulled her closer as they walked to the truck, wishing he could keep her there, tucked into the protection of his arms. “I hope for Cyril’s sake the cops figure it out soon.”
When they arrived at Ivy’s mother’s house, Tim lingered in the doorway, enjoying the nearness of her and wishing that he could prolong the feeling.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, taking a step away from him. “This alpha-male thing was a fluke. Don’t get used to bossing me around.”
He smiled. “I would never boss you around unless it was for your own good.”
“So you think you know what’s good for me?”
Looking into her green eyes, he felt his heart expand to fill his chest. He cupped her face with his hands and felt her cheeks warm, infusing his fingers with a gentle heat. “No, but I’d sure like a shot at making you happy.”
“You’re my best friend. You do make me happy.”
I could be so much more than that, if you’d let me. He leaned over and stroked the smooth skin of her cheek. “Good night, Ivy. You’ll be in my prayers.”
EIGHT
Tim met Ivy back at her apartment the next afternoon, notepad in hand.
“I want to go on record as saying this is a bad idea.”
“I’ll be fine, really.” It galled her that she’d been scared out of her own apartment. In the light of day, the whole thing seemed ludicrous. Plus his touch the night before had made her feel wobbly inside and she was determined to take control of her life and her feelings. She eyed his skeptical expression. “The police are going to drive by to check on things, remember?”
He frowned. “Yes, the mostly volunteer, severely understaffed department that’s already handling an arson, looking for Cyril and keeping track of a mobster. Why doesn’t that comfort me?”
She handed him a cup of coffee. “Don’t worry so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”
He uncapped a pen and began to jot. “I thought we could make a list of things we know about Cyril and maybe do some snooping around on our own, the safe, cyber kind of snooping, I mean.”
Her heart lifted. “Really? You can do that?”
He huffed. “Don’t underestimate me, Beria. There are some advantages to being a techno-geek. You hero types may get all the kudos, but you’d be surprised what a person can accomplish with some computer skills.”
She sat next to him. “I’ll be more than surprised if you can crack this case. Greenly told us Cyril’s last name is Donovan. Madge said he’s known Moe for five years or so.”
Together they brainstormed a scant list of details about the mysterious man.
“Oh, and he was fired from a job, I think Madge said, but she wouldn’t tell me where.”
“Okay, that’s
a start. I’ll try to find out what I can.” Tim glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a game this afternoon, so we’ll have to pick this up tonight.”
“Why don’t I come?” She knew a couple of the guys from work would be there and she desperately wanted to close the gap that seemed to be growing between herself and her career. She felt a stab of guilt to see Tim’s face light up.
“You want to cheer us on? Great. I didn’t think you were interested.”
You should be, Ivy. You should want to go for Tim’s sake, not for selfish reasons. “Sure. I’ll come and root, root, root for the home team, as they say.”
He nodded, still grinning, and gathered up his papers.
They took the elevator downstairs and drove to the high school.
Ivy took her place in the stands. Surreptitiously she scanned the bleachers for the stranger. He would probably not risk making himself too obvious. He’d already ascertained that Cyril didn’t hang around the basketball court. Then again, she thought with a shiver, he may have been watching when Cyril showed up at the apartment, in which case she’d be a target now. Maybe he’d go after more than her purse this time. She shivered.
The home and visiting teams piled onto the court, sneakers squeaking against the waxed floor. Ivy waved to Jeff and his wife, who came to sit with her.
Jeff shook his head. “Man, Ivy, things aren’t the same without you.”
She couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m glad. I was afraid you didn’t even notice I was gone.”
“Oh, we noticed. I’ve been going crazy trying to cover your workload, too, until they…” He broke off, a guilty look in his eyes.
“Until what?”
Jeff’s wife patted her knee. “Nothing, Ivy. Jeff is just babbling away. Too much coffee and he turns into a chatterbox.”
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s the coffee. What is it, Jeff? What don’t you want me to know?”
“Oh, it’s not important. Don’t sweat it, Ivy.” He made a great show of watching the kids drill. “Wow, look at that rebound. Tim’s really got them whipped into shape.”
“Jeff, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to post the story to Firefighters Online. You know the one I mean.” She saw it clearly in her mind.
The deck gun on Engine Five was leaking. Jeff turned it on to show the maintenance guy and it came loose, falling directly into the open cab. The front end flooded with gallons of water. When the captain opened the door to survey the damage, a waterfall of gear including the battalion chief’s helmet came pouring out all over the place. Every time they’d turned on the siren for months afterward, the thing sounded like a whale with intestinal problems.
She fought to keep the smile off her lips at the memory.
He blanched. “Now, that’s low, Ivy. You wouldn’t dare. They only recently stopped calling me Noah.”
She folded her arms.
Jeff cleared his throat. “It’s no big thing, anyway. Strong just brought in someone to backfill, while you’re healing.”
She had expected that much. “Who?”
“Uh, well, you know…”
“Who?”
He exhaled loudly. “Williams.”
Her stomach clenched like a fist. Denise Williams was a firefighter with a neighboring county who had tried to get on with Ivy’s department for years. She was also the woman who had stolen Antonio from her. She was sharp, competent and aggressive, a woman who knew an opportunity when she saw one. Though Ivy no longer loved Antonio, the hurt and humiliation remained. Now Denise was trying to take her job as well?
When she didn’t reply, Jeff gave her good shoulder a playful punch. “Don’t worry, Ivy. It’s not like Strong is going to replace you or anything.”
Ivy clenched her jaw. Why shouldn’t Strong replace her? If Ivy couldn’t get her shoulder back to one hundred percent, she would have no other choice. Not to mention the fact that the chief was no doubt still angry about Ivy’s insubordination. Why wouldn’t she be giving Denise Williams a good shot at Ivy’s job?
The conversation was replaced by cheers and shouts as the game started. Ivy felt detached from it all. Her job, her everything, was floating further out of her reach like a toy boat being towed out by an ocean riptide. Her shoulder began to throb with a painful rhythm. In a daze she watched Tim’s team put up a valiant effort only to lose by five baskets.
“Come on over to our house,” Jeff said after the final whistle. “The guys are showing up for pizza and a Wii bowling tournament later.”
She forced a smile. “Oh, no, thanks. I’m going to stick around and wait for Tim. He’s giving me a ride home.”
“Okay.” Jeff gave her a worried look as he and his wife climbed down from the risers. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
She waited as the gym began to empty. More than anything, she wanted to talk to Tim to hear his comforting reassurance that things were going to be okay. She wondered when she started to care so much about his input.
He trotted out of the locker room minutes later, checking his watch. She congratulated him on a good effort.
“Thanks. The kids played well and I’m proud of them.” He looked at the door. “Jeff said the guys were going over to his place. I figured you’d be going with them.”
“I didn’t feel like it. Want to walk with me?”
“Uh, well, I can’t actually. I promised the kids I’d stop by the pizza party to celebrate a good season.”
“Okay. I can wait while you chow down a slice of pepperoni.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Actually, I’ve sort of got this other thing I need to do, but I don’t think you should walk home alone.”
She blinked. “Oh, don’t worry about me. If you’ve got other plans, no biggie. I was going to go by my mother’s house anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Sure, no problem. Are you, er, meeting someone?”
“Yeah. Call me when you’re finished at your mom’s and I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay.” She was dying to ask him who he was meeting, but he’d already headed for the door.
She mused as she left the gym. Tim had an appointment. Was he on his way to a date? She knew plenty of women who would be interested in him. He was sweet, honest and had principles—perfect boyfriend material for someone in the market for that kind of thing. She’d thought so before she met Antonio.
No, it was probably some small group Bible meeting, but that was usually on Thursday nights, she knew. Why had he looked so anxious about it? And why did a stab of jealousy seem to shrink her insides? Jealousy came with love, didn’t it?
The cool of the early evening felt delicious after the stuffy gym. A slight humidity tinged the air. She stood for a moment, feeling lost as she watched the people empty out and return to their respective lives. If she wasn’t a firefighter, then who was she? What was she supposed to be doing with her life?
Though her plans to see her mother had been in the formative stages only, she decided to make good on what she’d told Tim. Going back to her empty apartment and stewing about Denise Williams would not accomplish anything. Picturing Tim on a date wouldn’t be helpful, either. The streets were quiet except for the leaves chattering in the branches. She looked over her shoulder for any sign of an attacker.
Without warning, her anxiety came out in words. She turned her face to the clouded sky. “So what are You doing up there, God? Is this just another way to punish me? When You took my sister, You gave me a calling, as least I thought You did.” Her voice rose against the wind. “Aren’t I supposed to be out saving lives and property? Isn’t that it, Lord? Now You’re going to rip that away, too? The only thing I have?” And maybe Tim, too? she added silently. She wanted to hit, strike out at something, someone. The only sound came from the swirl of leaves on the fingers of a playful wind.
Head bowed, fatigue soaking into every muscle, she closed the distance to her mother’s house.
Her depression
was complete when she read the note propped on the kitchen table.
Sorry, Ivy honey, if you came. I wasn’t sure and the pastor asked me to take a meal to Mrs. Ronald, who has broken her leg in a fall. I left a sandwich in the fridge for you in case you made it here. Take care and I’ll phone you tomorrow. Mama
Mrs. Ronald was no doubt being deluged with pots of soup, containers of casserole and plates of cookies from Mama’s church folk. She’d better heal before she ate herself to death. Ivy pulled out the sandwich. Though she wasn’t hungry, she took a few bites anyway, trying to take comfort from the familiar old table, knicked from the time she and Sadie used it for a Daniel Boone fort and the cupboard that they’d loved to empty and transform into a cave.
She was surprised when her brother let himself in the front door.
“Hi, Roddy. What brings you here?”
“Oh, hey, sis. Mama asked me to drop off a bag of lemons from my tree. Something about lemon bars. I told her fine as long as I get a couple dozen.”
He sank down next to her at the table.
She held up her dinner. “Want half a sandwich?”
“Sure, thanks. I can only stay a minute but there’s always time for food.”
They enjoyed a comfortable silence as they ate.
As she chewed, her thoughts returned to her sister. How would she have turned out? Would she be a teacher as she’d been studying to do? Or a circus clown, the silly dream she’d clung to since she was a preschooler? Sadie’s face swam into her vision, Sadie with her nose covered in red lipstick, trying to juggle oranges in the backyard. Sadie, who died with no one to comfort her, not so much as a squeeze from her sister’s hand.
Ivy put down the remaining crust of bread. “How come it didn’t change you?”
Roddy looked startled. “What?”
“Sadie’s death. You don’t talk about it.”
He shifted on the chair. “I’m not a ‘talk about your feelings’ kinda guy, Ivy. You know that.”
“I know, I know. But didn’t it mess you up at all?”
He considered, his eyes searching her face. “Sure. It was terrible. I don’t dwell on it.”
