“Hey,” I protested. “I don’t have to take this. I’m going to go give Aaron a sandwich.” I hopped off the back countertop and started towards the back of the store. “Nate, you okay?” He nodded, looking interestedly at my dad. I smiled and headed into the storeroom, where I found Aaron, a skinny black teen in a T-shirt that said “Who Watches the Watchmen,” digging through a stack of comics that were still in their shiny plastic shrink-wrap. I chatted with him for a few minutes about school – Aaron was studying mythology at the U – and then returned to rescue Nate.
And not a moment too soon. Back at the counter, my father had finished eating and was stacking books in front of Nate like the boy had just learned to read.
“Whoa, Dad,” I said, walking up. “You’re going to overwhelm the poor kid. What’ve you got? I reached over and picked up the short stack. “Kingdom Come, Watchmen, and Fables? Nice, but I think Watchmen’s a little intense for a newbie.” I walked the Moore novel back and picked up Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One instead. My dad nodded approvingly.
“When you’re right, you’re right, Selena Kyle.”
I sent Nate a big confident stage wink and turned back to my father. “Put these on my tab, okay?”
Nate began to protest, but my dad held up a firm hand. “Not a chance. It’s the man’s first comic books, and I am honored to present them to him as a gift.” He turned to wink at Nate. “Just tell all your friends to stop by the store, eh?” Nate nodded seriously, and I grinned, then felt a stab of pain for Nate. From what I understood, the boy didn’t have many friends. If any.
“And you,” he said to me, making his severe dad face, “You’re way too skinny, Firecracker. Eat something.”
I rolled my eyes. Had he not seen me annihilate the sub? But he was just being a dad, so I said I would. After all, I wasn’t going to be thin much longer.
As we headed back to the car, Nate swung his Great Dane bag and said softly, “Your dad’s really nice.”
“Yeah, he is.” I started the Jeep and pulled carefully into traffic, conscious that technically I had two kids in the car.
“Why does he call you Firecracker?”
I smiled into the rearview mirror. “It’s from when I was a kid. I was eleven, and Rory, my big sister, was fourteen, and she had her first boy over for dinner. And afterwards they were watching TV in the living room while my dad and I did the dishes, and I was maybe eavesdropping a little bit, and I heard him saying mean stuff to her.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, typical teenager stuff. How she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls, and she was lucky that he was with her, and stuff along the lines that she should let him kiss her if she wanted to have a chance to be cool at all. And maybe, um, let him put his hand up her shirt.”
“What a jerk.”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering. “Rory’s a lot tougher now, but he was the first boy she liked, and she just didn’t know how to defend herself back then. So she started crying, and the boy kind of sneered and left.”
“What happened?” Nate asked.
“Well, the next day in the cafeteria I spooned a bunch of chocolate pudding on the kid’s chair when he sat down, and I managed to attach one of those strips of firecrackers to his backpack. When I lit the fuse he went tearing down the hall, firecrackers going off on his back, and brown pudding smeared all over his jeans like he’d just, um, pooped in his pants.”
Nate laughed. “Did you get caught?”
I made a face. “Ohhhh yeah. They called my dad, and the kid and his parents, and there was a whole big meeting about it. And I admitted it was me and explained why, and said I wasn’t sorry at all. The kid’s mom yelled at him on the spot for being so mean to Rory, and I got three months of Saturday detentions. And I had to buy the kid a new pair of jeans with my allowance.” All things considered, I had gotten off pretty light, but that had been before school shootings were such a frequent occurrence.
“What did your Dad say?” Nate asked.
I shrugged. “Kind of what you’d expect. He was mad that I set off fireworks in school and mad that I had tormented the kid. But I think he was a little proud of me for sticking up for Rory, too. And as far as I know, nobody at school ever bothered Rory again. And that was the end of my career in explosives.”
“That’s great,” Nate said, grinning at me.
“Uh, not that that story should be an example to you or anything,” I added hastily. “Practical jokes are not a good way to solve your problems.”
“I know,” Nate said, and I got the feeling that there was maybe a little eye-rolling from his side of the car. We rode in silence for a little while, and then he turned in his seat to look at me. “Lena? Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What if my biological father, what if Jason isn’t a good guy? What if he doesn’t, like, want me?”
I glanced over at him, checking his expression in the fading daylight. “Have you talked to your stepfather about this?”
“Nuh-uh. I don’t want him to know I’m thinking about it.”
I thought about how to answer. “Well, I really hope that he will be a good person, Nate. Sometimes good people make bad decisions, and sometimes people who make bad decisions can change. But if he’s really terrible, then you don’t have to live with him.”
“But I’d have to go to foster care instead.”
I sighed and flicked my hair out of my eyes. “Yeah, probably. Which sucks, I know. But it might not be so bad. Anyway, you can figure out what to do when I find Jason.”
“Okay.” There was a long pause in the conversation, and my stomach churned again, insistent this time. It suddenly dawned on me that I was about to be very sick. “Uh, Nate? I think we need to pull over for a second, okay?”
Oh, God. The churning intensified as I pulled the Jeep onto the turnpike, opened my door, and leaned out. Then I puked the remains of my stomach contents across the shoulder of Hwy 54, holding my hair back with one hand. When I couldn’t throw up anymore, I leaned back against my seat, exhausted, and hooked the door shut with my foot.
I glanced at the passenger seat. Nate was looking at me with shock on his face, and I couldn’t think of one thing to say.
“Lena, are you...I’m sorry, but are you pregnant?” he blurted.
I raised my head, surprised. “Yeah,” I said. “How did you know?”
“Three girls in my homeroom are pregnant right now,” he informed me. “They puke out of nowhere like that all the time.”
“Three?” I asked, shocked. “What kind of school do you go to?”
He shrugged, smiling wanly. “Public school?”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Nate Christianti, was that a joke?”
“Well, partly. So, um, when are you due?”
“I don’t really know,” I confessed. “I just found out, and I haven’t even been to the doctor yet.”
“Oh.” He thought about that. “Have you told everybody yet? Because your dad didn’t really say anything...”
“No, I haven’t told anybody, really. Just my assistant and my sister. And now you.”
“What about the, um, the daddy?”
“My husband? I haven’t gotten around to it. I’m waiting for the right time,” I lied.
“Oh,” he said, considering. We drove for a few minutes in silence, and then Nate asked, “What’s he like?”
“Toby?” I thought it over. “Toby is...patient, I guess. He’s gentle and kind, and he tries really hard to do good things in the world.” I smiled fondly. “And he thinks I’m the bee’s knees, which is always a good quality.”
“What does he do?”
“Well, he used to be a cop, like me, but now he’s a lawyer.”
Nate considered that for a moment. “Did you work together? When you were cops?”
I laughed at the memory. “We did for a little while, but we drove each other crazy.”
“How come?”
I smiled, remember
ing. “Toby outranked me – he was a detective, and I was just a uniform – and I still gave him sh—um, I was always challenging his authority, I guess. I had ideas, and I was eager to learn, and I made a pest of myself.”
“Did he get mad?”
“Nope.” I replied. “He was actually great about kind of mentoring me. And then I left the department, and we started dating.”
“Um, why did you leave?” Nate asked. There was a certain tone in his voice, like it wasn’t just an idle question. I glanced over, but his expression was blank. Studiously blank.
“You Googled me, didn’t you?”
Guilt flashed across his face. Definite yes. “Sorry?”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago now,” I replied, shrugging it off.
“But it seemed like you didn’t do anything wrong,” he ventured. “So why did you quit the police department?”
I sighed. I didn’t really want to lie to him, but I wasn’t sure how to explain, either. “That’s a complicated question,” I said finally. “Maybe we could save that one for another time.”
Nate nodded, and there were a few minutes of silence in the car. “He sounds like a really good guy,” Nate offered. “Your husband, I mean.”
I smiled. “He is.”
“I bet he’ll be a really good dad.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling the weight of the secret. “I bet he will.”
10. Matt Cleary’s Fan Club
When I got home, Toby didn’t say anything about our fight, so I didn’t, either. On television married people always end up talking it out, but either we weren’t ready to talk or we weren’t ready to fight again, because without saying anything about it we were both just quiet and careful with each other. I figured he was giving me some time to consider the subject of kids before he brought it up again, but I’d bought myself a brief window. The next morning, he dragged me to the gym, as usual. When I headed to the treadmill instead of the boxing room he raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment.
At work, I got Bryce started on setting up a Monday flight to LA, and spent the morning getting my other cases in order so I could be gone for a few days. By the time I finished, it was almost 11:30, and I needed to get ready to leave for lunch.
I usually eat in the office, but Rory and I had a standing Friday lunch date, a tradition we’d started years ago at her insistence. Like so many people in my life, Rory had been afraid I’d go completely off the rails when I left Chicago PD. I’d agreed to the weekly sister lunches to humor her, but eventually I’d actually enjoyed them, if only for the chance to see Rory alone, without our father overhearing us or one of the kids tugging on her clothes. After Logan was born, I’d also realized that Rory’s time was precious. If she wanted to give a little bit to me every week, I should just shut up and be grateful.
But today I was not exactly looking forward to seeing my sister. We always ate at this little sandwich café that’s almost exactly halfway between my office and Great Dane Comics, and although I pulled up at twelve on the dot, I dawdled in the Jeep for a full five minutes, tapping a nervous beat on the steering wheel with my fingertips. Then I realized that if I didn’t go inside she would just come to the office and made a big deal about it, so I sighed and got out of the car.
Inside, I greeted Emilio, the host, and trudged to our usual booth in the back east corner like I was on my way to defend my doctorate thesis. Sure enough, Rory was already there, and she had her arms folded across her chest in a “you are so screwed” gesture, which would have been a lot more threatening if she weren’t wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck with little bears printed all over it and a purple quilted vest that matched the bears’ little hats. Where does she find these clothes?
“Toby called last night,” she said immediately. “You haven’t told him about the baby.”
I nearly missed a step before I made it to the table. That explained why she looked so upset. I managed to get myself into the booth without tripping over my feet. “I wish he hadn’t done that,” I said sullenly. “He shouldn’t be bringing you into our problems.”
“Grow up, Lena,” she snapped. “He’s worried about you; I’m worried about you. But I had to lie to him on your behalf. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I—”
“And did you see the OB yet?” she interrupted. “Is everything okay with the baby?”
I looked away. “I couldn’t get an appointment yet,” I said lamely. “And now I have to go to LA for a few days, for work.”
Rory nodded curtly. “You need to tell him before you go.”
“That’s my business.”
The waiter, a short guy in his late 20’s with a perfectly mussed, just-so haircut, bounced up to take our order, and Rory shooed him away with a look. “You made it my business when you told me before you told Toby.” She leaned forward, forcing me to look at her. “Why did you tell me, Lena?”
“So I could figure out how long before I start to show.”
Rory shook her head, with ‘disappointed in you’ written all over her face. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you told me so I would talk you into telling Toby about the baby. Into getting excited about having kids. Like normal women. Who aren’t broken.”
Unwanted tears pooled in my eyes, and I ordered myself not to wipe them or let them fall. “Not cool, Rory.”
Her lips tightened. “Maybe not, but I don’t know how else to get through to you.” She sighed. “I know you, Selena Kyle Dane. I know what happened to our mother, and I know what happened at the police department. And I’ve let you be, but you have responsibilities now. You’ve got to move on.”
She glared, and suddenly a wall of exhaustion slammed down on me. “I can’t do this,” I said tiredly, standing up and returning my napkin to the table. “I can’t sit here and try to defend my life to you. I need to go.”
“Wait,” she barked. I opened my mouth to protest, but she just shoved a small bottle into my hand. I read the label: prenatal vitamins. “I figured you wouldn’t think of it,” she said imperiously.
I hated that she was right about that, but I just jammed the bottle in my purse and left without looking at her face. Because I am a coward.
Not exactly what you’d call great mother material.
As I walked back to my car, I found myself wishing that a mugger would jump out of an alley and try to kill me, or a crazy guy would run up and try to slap me, or just...something. At least then I would know what to do. I wanted a fight so bad I could feel the sting of blood on my knuckles, but there was nothing to hit and no one to fight. And if a mugger had jumped at me just then, I probably would have fallen asleep on him.
Back in the car, I leaned back with the keys still in my hand, closing my eyes. Rory was right; that was the worst part. This was Toby’s baby, too, and he deserved to know about it. He deserved to have a wife who would make a special dinner and give him the joyous news and twirl around together, or whatever else seems to happen on Hallmark commercials. But I wasn’t ready to think about the baby. I wasn’t ready for it to be real. The next day, Saturday, would be the five-year anniversary of the day that Matt Cleary attacked me in the parking garage by the third district CPD building. Which also made it the five-year anniversary of my first positive pregnancy test.
I sighed and promised myself that I would tell him after the anniversary was over. Then I headed back toward the office.
Toby called that afternoon to let me know he was stuck at work on a big case and probably wouldn’t be home before midnight. And he would have to come in to the office Saturday and maybe even Sunday.
I told him it was okay; we’d known when he took the associate job that he’d be pulling some long hours the first few years. We chatted for a few more minutes, long enough for both of us to reassure ourselves that we were okay, that we still loved each other, that crappy schedules and arguments happened sometimes. I felt good about the conversation–but when I hung up I was still relieved that I didn’t have to f
ace him yet.
I had a quiet night, watching bad TV with Toka, ordering Chinese food, and going to bed comically early. At 1:30 in the morning, though, my cell phone rang.
Disoriented, I pried my eyes open, and reached automatically for the nightstand, thinking that Toby was calling. Before I could even grab the phone, though, I realized that the lump in the bed next to me was way too big to be Toka; Toby was already home. I’m a trained detective like that. The number on the screen was unfamiliar. I answered, expecting another hangup call from Matt Cleary’s fan club.
“Lean?” came a quavering, tiny female voice.
“Ruby?” I propped myself up on my elbows. She wasn’t scheduled for surveillance that night. “What’s going on? Is it the case?”
“No.” I could hear a dull thumping sound in the background, like somebody throwing themselves against a wall. “I’m in trouble, Lena. This guy, he was one of my tricks, he saw me and—”
A particularly loud thump. “Where are you?” I said urgently, sitting up straight in the bed.
Toka, alerted to the possibility of food or a walk, darted into the bedroom and jumped up on the bed, squashing my shins.
“At work—The Stafford Hotel downtown.” The banging had paused for a moment, but resumed louder than ever, and I had to put one hand over my other ear to hear Ruby. “I’m in the bathroom of room 116.”
“I know where that is. I’ll be right there. Did you call the cops already?” I didn’t need details. Details could come later.
“No. He has a gun, and I didn’t want—I was afraid he’d—”
She took a panicked, gulping breath, and I broke in, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll be right there.”
“Be careful, Lena. He’s drunk and high and he—” There was a particularly loud bang, and the cell phone went silent in my hand.
Toby hadn’t moved through the whole conversation – how can anybody sleep so deeply? I switched on my bedside lamp and automatically reached over to wake him—but then I froze. Toby was great backup, but if he came with me, and then found out I knew I was pregnant, he’d be furious. I decided to bring my other backup instead.
The Big Keep: A Lena Dane Mystery (Lena Dane Mysteries) Page 7
