by Reinke, Sara
Latisha shrugged. “Sure. A little tired, I guess. Said he didn’t sleep well last night.”
Lina could commiserate. Falling asleep the night before had been difficult for her, too, because she had grown accustomed to being with him, sleeping naked or nearly so, tucked in his arms. As ridiculous as it sounded, she missed him and didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to stand their current arrangements, despite her promise to Latisha.
“I thought as soon as you’re showered and ready to go, we could head out to Granddaddy’s,” Latisha said. “Are you wanting to go for a run first?”
“No,” Lina said, figuring the last thing her upset stomach needed that morning was to bounce up and down, its contents sloshing to and fro with every long, brisk stride. “I, uh, I think I might have pulled something yesterday. I’m feeling a little stiff. I’m going to rest up a few days, see if it loosens back up.”
Latisha nodded, serving two pancakes apiece onto a pair of plates. She offered one to Lina.
“I thought I had to fend for myself,” Lina began.
Latisha laughed, shoving the plate into her hands. “I’ll let you off the hook this once.”
Lina glanced down at the pat of butter slowly melting into a golden puddle on top of her breakfast. Again, her stomach growled, but not in a good way. “Terrific,” she muttered with a feeble smile.
****
“Hi, Granddaddy.” Lina leaned over Clarence Parker’s wheelchair arm and pressed her lips against his cool, dry, wrinkled cheek. His face was thin, his bony features prominent, his skin hanging laxly like weather-beaten leather. He was bald, save for a light fuzz of grey around the back of his skull cap. His eyes were sunken, ringed with lines and troughs, his lips pursed in a solemn line. His clothes hung on his withered form like there was little beneath them but sticks to prop them up. He didn’t respond to Lina’s voice, but at her touch, her kiss, his rheumy eyes blinked sleepily and he turned to her, as if emerging from a daze.
“Hi,” Lina said again, smiling at him, feeling the dim heat of tears in her eyes at the complete and utter lack of recognition in his own. He looked at her as might a very young and impressionable child, full of curiosity and bewilderment. “It’s Angelina, Tisha’s daughter.”
“Tisha, Daddy,” Latisha said, leaning over beside Lina, patting the old man’s gnarled hand as it rested in the nest of his lap.
Clarence smiled at them. Latisha had told Lina she visited him at least every other day, if possible, but that despite this, he seldom knew her as more than a friendly, familiar face. That he’d once changed her diapers—hell, changed her daughter’s diapers—was completely lost to him. Still smiling, he nodded at them, reaching out with his other hand to pat clumsily against Latisha’s.
“He doesn’t talk a lot anymore,” she told Lina.
“He’s gone down hill that much?” Lina asked, startled and dismayed. When she’d visited with Latisha following her cancer diagnosis only earlier that year, Lina had visited with her grandfather and had found him confused, but at least still somewhat communicative.
Latisha nodded sadly. Then, forcing a smile for Clarence’s benefit, she added, “But that’s okay, isn’t it, Daddy? You still like to visit, don’t you?”
His smile remained unwavering, but he looked puzzled as he nodded. Latisha kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “You want us to take you outside? It’s a nice day. Not too warm yet.”
While Latisha pushed the wheelchair, Lina walked slowly beside it, holding her grandfather’s hand. His fingers hand clasped lightly around her own seemingly out of reflex, like an infant’s grasp, but once he’d caught hold, he held fast.
Latisha chattered as they made their way along a winding, cobbled path leading through a fenced-in garden filled with topiary, tropical foliage and flowering shrubs. They’d stop at fountains and coy ponds, and when Lina plugged a quarter into a fish-food dispenser, Clarence smiled in bewildered delight as she put some into his palm.
“No, Granddaddy, don’t eat it,” she said, catching his wrist as he moved to pop the pellets into his mouth. “It’s for the fish. See? Watch.”
She tossed some of her own food into the pond, but Clarence only let his drop, spilling from his hand to the ground, scattering around his wheelchair. Lina knelt down to pick them up, fighting the urge to cry.
“It’s alright.” Latisha knelt in front of her, but Lina refused to look her way. “Leave them, honey.”
“Okay,” Lina whispered, nodding, brows furrowed, lips pressed together.
They spent the better part of an hour together, and then Latisha went inside to find them each a glass of lemonade, leaving Lina to sit on a cast iron bench, watching as Clarence blinked sleepily at periwinkle flowers growing in a thick cluster nearby. He continued to hold Lina’s hand, his grasp firm and insistent. For a long moment, Lina sat there stiffly, picking at the cuffs of her shorts with her free hand, her other arm outstretched between them. Then she looked up.
“Granddaddy?”
Clarence kept watching the flowers as they nodded and bobbed in a slight breeze, rubbing the pad of his thumb restlessly back and forth against her knuckles.
“I…I quit the police force,” Lina said. “I didn’t want to, but I had to. I just…I felt like I didn’t have any choice.”
Not for the first time since realizing his Brethren nature, Lina found herself envious of Brandon’s abilities; in that moment, it was of his telepathy. She wished she could open her mind the way he could, that she could be aware of another person’s thoughts and feelings.
I wish you could hear me, Granddaddy, she thought, feeling on the verge of tears again. I wish I knew you were still in there, wish you’d give me some sign.
“I feel like I…I’ve let you down,” she whispered, and a tear stole past her lashes, rolling down her cheek, glinting in the sun. “Mama, too. I feel like everything I’ve done has been wrong…but especially leaving the force. I loved my job, like I know you did yours, and I…I always felt close to you by that. Like we understood each other because of it. I always loved listening to your stories…telling you mine. I could tell you anything, Granddaddy, and I miss that.” More tears fell; she couldn’t stop them. Hanging her head, she gave into them freely, her shoulders shaking. “I miss you.”
After a moment during which the only sounds were her sniffling hiccups and the slight rustle of breeze through the bushes, Clarence gave her hand a squeeze. “My granddaughter is on the police force.”
He said this so clearly, so matter-of-factly—so proudly—that she looked up, surprised, her breath cutting short.
“What?” she whispered.
“She’s a damn good cop.” He was looking at her now, really seeing her for likely the first time all morning, his mouth stretched wide in a bright, beaming smile. “My Angel,” he said, because that was what he’d always called her; not Angelina or Lina, but this—my Angel.
She didn’t know if he knew her or not, if he was speaking to her or not when he said this, but she sprang from her seat and fell against him, hugging him fiercely, feeling his hand pat lightly against her arm.
“Thank you, Granddaddy,” Lina whispered, muffled against his neck. “I love you.”
****
As Lina and Latisha left the nursing home and walked toward their car, Lina caught sight a gunmetal grey Dodge Charger parked in the far corner of the parking lot. Old habits died hard, and her experience as a former patrol officer drew her gaze invariably to it; a newer model, it was distinctive to her because of its blunt, square front end and contrasting streamlined body. She felt fairly certain she’d seen it before, that morning in fact; the same charcoal-colored Charger moving in and out of traffic in her rearview mirror as they’d driven out of Latisha’s subdivision and into town. The windows were tinted just enough so that, from her current vantage, she couldn’t tell if someone was inside or not.
“How about we get some lunch?” Latisha asked, opening the passenger side door to her Honda Accor
d. “We could go to that one place, Wild Eggs, that you liked so much on your last visit.”
“Sure,” Lina said with a smile, dragging her gaze from the Charger. “Sounds good.”
Mentally, she remonstrated herself. It’s not the same car. You’re being paranoid. Why would someone be following you?
As she started the car and draped her hand against the crest of her mother’s seat, pivoting to look over her shoulder as she backed out of their parking spot, she noticed Latisha unbuttoning the top of her short-sleeved shirt. “Are you okay?”
Latisha glanced up at her. “What? Oh, I’m fine. Just sweating, that’s all.” From the left side of her bra, she pulled out a silicone breast prosthetic, a peach-colored, pear-shaped mold contoured to fill the cup left empty since her mastectomy.
Lina stared for a long moment at the implant. She’d known Latisha wore these, at least when out in public. As a rule, she didn’t while at home because she found them hot and uncomfortable.
“I can’t imagine how that friend of yours does it,” Latisha remarked. “Rene, I mean, with his mechanical leg. It must bother him something fierce and he can’t just take it off when he feels like it. Not if he wants to get around.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Lina dropped the car in gear, trying not to scowl visibly.
“How has he been doing?” Latisha asked, drawing the shoulder strap of her seat belt across her chest and buckling it into place.
“Fine, I guess.”
“You haven’t mentioned him since you got here.”
“That’s because I haven’t talked to him in awhile.”
Latisha raised her eyebrow. “Everything alright?”
Lina sighed, irritated. “Everything’s fine, Mama. I just don’t feel like talking to Rene much anymore. Or about him. So let’s just drop it, please. Okay?”
The truth was, Rene had broken her heart. In turning Brandon over to the Brethren Elders—despite his good intentions and his purported confidence in Brandon’s ability to handle himself against them—he’d betrayed not only Brandon’s trust, but her own. And of the two, Lina’s was a lot harder to gain—not to mention damn near impossible to recapture.
Once upon a time, he’d been her police partner and closest friend. Even while dating Jude, she’d turned more often to Rene for company and comfort, a fact that had never been lost on her often envious ex. Once upon a time, she’d felt she could tell Rene anything, trust him implicitly, depend on him with her life—infallible, unwavering.
And now as far as I’m concerned, Rene’s dead to me.
If the truth be told, though, she missed Rene. Her partners on the force after him had never measured up in her estimation, either in terms of competence and dependability—or friendship. He’d been the first person she’d turn to whenever in trouble or need, the one who always listened to her, who supported, encouraged and helped her.
If you had any sense, you’d be in love with him, Latisha had told her once, and again, if Lina was honest, she supposed that she had been in her own way. Rene was handsome, charming, witty and brash, attributes she’d always found endearing and admittedly sexy. But more than any physical attraction, it had always been the emotional bond she’d shared with him, as close and comfortable as the confines within the squad car they’d shared, that she’d enjoyed the most, treasured the most. Missed the most.
Brandon was her love, her lover, but so many times, they failed to see eye to eye on things—especially of late.
I miss having a partner, she thought sadly.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Lina waited while Latisha slipped the silicone form back into the front of her bra. With a little tug to settle everything into place, she then dropped Lina a wink. “I’m all set.”
Lina smiled. “Me, too, Mama.”
The restaurant had a large outdoor seating area, but when Latisha suggested it, Lina shook her head. “You’ll get too hot. It’s airconditioned inside.”
The hostess ushered them across the dining room to a small table in the far corner. Framed by windows, it awarded a pleasant view of the tropical landscaping outside—flowering shrubs and palm trees, with a small bird feeder to which a cluster of wild green parrots had flocked. The two women ordered—each of them choosing the house-specialty Thai chicken salad—then sat together in quiet conversation while waiting for their food to arrive.
“I’ve missed this,” Latisha remarked with a wistful smile. Reaching across the table, she draped her hand atop Lina’s. “Spending time together, just the two of us. Talking together. Laughing.”
Lina smiled. She wasn’t sure how much laughing she’d done to that point; between the heartbreaking visit with her grandfather and dredging up memories of Rene, she felt anything but jovial. But still, she had to agree. “Me, too, Mama.”
For awhile, they talked about the past, Lina’s childhood and adolescence, and all of the misadventures that had entailed. Latisha brought her up-to-date on family news; how her various aunts, uncles and cousins were doing. Before long, Lina was laughing along with Latisha, genuine laughter that left her doubled over the table, tears streaming down her cheeks.
After the salads arrived, Lina did little more than pick at hers. The nausea that had faded since she’d managed to force down some of her pancakes earlier had suddenly returned, and the idea of the food—not to mention the tangy smell of the mandarin-soy salad dressing—was enough to make her turn her nose.
Latisha managed to eat at least some of the massive salad, then asked for a box to bring the rest home with her. Both she and Lina reached for their purses at the same time, then tussled playfully over the check.
“It’s my treat,” Latisha insisted.
“Mama, no.” Lina frowned. “Let me get it.”
“You’re unemployed at the moment,” Latisha replied pointedly, snatching the ticket from Lina’s grasp. “I’ll get it.”
Sighing heavily, Lina rolled her eyes but offered no further argument. She pushed her chair back from the table, then stood, slinging the thin strap of her purse over the shoulder. “I’m going to run to the ladies room.”
She meant the excuse to give her time to go to the cashier’s desk and pay the tab, but once upright, that uncomfortable nausea became unbearable. Lina wound up practically dashing into the restroom, and once inside, slapping the door of the first available stall shut behind her split seconds before doubling over the commode. She hadn’t eaten much, but what she’d managed came abruptly up again, and when she’d finished. Lina braced herself against the wall with one hand, spitting and trembling as she flushed the toilet with the other.
What the hell’s wrong with me? she wondered as she limped to the sinks and dabbed at her face with a water-dampened paper towel. God, I hope I’m not coming down with something. Mom doesn’t need to be exposed to anything like that. She’s still weak from the chemo.
She felt better for having retched, and tried to convince herself it must have been something that hadn’t agreed with her. Too much greasy food on the car trip from California, she thought. That must be it. I’m not used to eating that much junk.
Digging in her purse, she found a roll of breath mints and popped one in her mouth before leaving the bathroom and paying their lunch bill.
“Gotcha, Mama,” she murmured with a triumphant little smile. As she turned to go back to the table, she glanced out the front windows, beyond the patio outside. To her surprise, she saw the grey Dodge Charger again, this time parked across the street at a meter.
Stop it, she told herself firmly. It’s not the same car. You’re starting to act as jumpy as Brandon, for God’s sake. Next thing you know, you’ll have convinced yourself it’s one of the Davenants inside that car, that Augustus was right and they followed you here.
Still, her curiosity got the better of her, and she ducked through the front doors and out into the blazing afternoon sun. Shielding her eyes from the glare, she first cut a glance in either direction, wary of oncoming traffic, then jogged acros
s the road.
As she approached the Charger, she could see the silhouette of someone sitting in the driver’s seat. As she drew even closer, she caught a better glimpse and recognized him.
“Detective Velasco?” She blinked in surprise.
The driver’s side window had been rolled down. Elías Velasco tipped her a two-fingered wave as he righted his seat, having reclined it back somewhat, as if he’d settled in for a lengthy wait while sitting behind the wheel.
“Call me Elías,” he said, his tone light and casual, as if this was an every day occurrence, and seeing her there had caught him by pleasant surprise.
Puzzled, Lina raised her brow. “Are you following me?”
He shrugged. It was an innocent enough gesture, but he did it sardonically, his mouth hooked in a wry smirk that made her bristle.
“What the hell for?” she demanded.
He shrugged again and opened the car door, swinging his legs around and stepping out. He was dressed for work, in camel-colored slacks and a darker brown blazer, with a light blue button-down beneath and his tie loosened around his neck.
Lina planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you following me?” she asked again.
“Just curious, I guess,” he replied, closing the door, then leaning against it with his hip.
Her brows narrowed. “About what?”
“You.” He’d been wearing sunglasses to that point, but slipped them off now, folding and tucking them into his inside jacket pocket. “See, the more I thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed—you facing charges in a series of exsanguination murders up north, and then me investigating some similar cases right here in Bayshore—and at about the same time you decide to visit.”
Caught off-guard, she blinked at him. “How did you…?”
“Find out about your past?” Elías chuckled. “In addition to AFIS, my computer at work has access to this amazing site that lets me look up just about anything about anybody. It’s called Google.”
