October's Children: A Marlowe Gentry Thriller

by Dallas Mullican

  “That was fun,” she said, whipping a towel from around her neck.

  “For you, maybe. You wore me out. Not to mention kicking my ass.”

  She snickered and tugged at a ponytail holder, allowing her long, dark hair to fall down her back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did well for someone who hasn’t played much. We do need to work on your backhand and serve…and your forehand…and volley…and...”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. Very funny.” He gave a faux hurt expression. “I looked like an uncoordinated octopus out there, arms and legs flailing everywhere. I even had to serve underhanded to get the ball over the goddamn net.” Marlowe tried to hide his grin as he tilted his head upward to gauge Becca’s reaction. “Like a girl.”

  Becca snapped the towel at him. “Like a girl? This girl could have put an ace past you every time. Be glad I felt sorry for you.”

  “Oh, I am, trust me. Honestly, even though your competition sucked, you’re pretty damn good.”

  Becca smiled, pride pushing her shoulders back. “Thanks. Oh, did I tell you I was captain of my high-school tennis team?”

  Marlowe’s head shot up. “Uh, no, you failed to fill me in on that part.”

  “Oops, sorry.”

  Marlowe stretched his legs and grunted. “Next time, we play basketball. At least I’ll have a height advantage.”

  “Sure. I led the state in three-pointers my senior year,” Becca gave him a mischievous wink.

  “Shit. Just my luck.” Marlowe thrust his head back against the pillow and sighed. “Wake me up sometime next year.”

  “Can’t. Paige will be home soon, and we have a dinner date with Spence and Tamara.”

  Finally a day off and the house to themselves—Paige out with her grandparents, who were visiting from Ohio, Mable, his live-in nanny, at her sisters until the evening—and Becca insisted on filling every second with activities. Marlowe would rather vegetate on the sofa with a six-pack and old movies. Still, it was nice to spend some time alone with her. Since The Heretic case, things calmed and they had settled into a new phase of their relationship. She and Paige now seemed joined at the hip, Paige a little shadow following Becca everywhere. At first, he worried about how a breakup between him and Becca would affect Paige, but quickly dismissed the concern. A breakup felt unlikely, and he knew he was prepared to do whatever it took to avoid one. In it for the long haul. The idea no longer held the terror it wielded over him in the past. He embraced a future with Becca and Paige, refusing to allow fear and doubt to steal the promise of joy.

  “You and Tamara are getting pretty chummy.” Marlowe watched the ceiling fan whirl overhead, the smooth spin lulling him closer to sleep.

  Becca kicked his shoe, jarring him awake. “I love her to death. She’s an angel. I have to admit, I like being back in the therapist chair and off the patient’s couch.”

  Marlowe glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean helping Tamara adjust to moving in with Spence and navigate learning how to function as a cop’s significant other. It helps me keep things in perspective I think.”

  “I can see that. I’m sure she appreciates having someone to talk to who’s been through the good and the bad.”

  Becca sat down on the bed beside him, squeezed his thigh, and chuckled as he groaned. “Those two were born for each other.”

  “No kidding. Tamara’s the perfect buffer for Spence’s… Well, for being Spence.” Marlowe laughed. “I just hope they aren’t trying to pack the last fifteen years apart into a few months. I worry about them jumping in too fast. Spence doesn’t exactly have a strong track record in the commitment department.”

  Becca leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and lightly wrapped her knuckles on his forehead. “Not everyone needs a tow truck to haul their ass into a relationship.”

  “Touché.”

  “I think it’s beautiful. Life is too short. Carpe diem.”

  Marlowe pinched her side as she squirmed away with a giggle. “Think you can fit another cliché in there?”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic. Don’t try to play the cynic.”

  “Maybe, but don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” Becca patted him on the chest. “How’s Spence doing? I bet he hates being cooped up in his apartment.”

  “God, the complaints.” Marlowe sat up and huffed. “You can’t imagine. Never shuts up about it. The doc says he can return to light duty next week. At least it’ll get him out and moving around.”

  “He’s not one to sit still for long. Tamara said he’s going stir crazy. But a few weeks laid up after getting shot isn’t so bad. He’s recovered remarkably fast.”

  “True, but Spence doesn’t look at it that way. He sees bars on a cage.” Marlowe tried to stand, thought better of it, and plunged backward onto the mattress.

  Becca laughed, grabbed the front of his shorts, and urged him off the bed. “Come on, old man, let’s get a shower.”

  Marlowe moaned and offered minimal protest, but had to admit a nice hot shower might loosen his muscles, not to mention he smelled like a locker room. He followed Becca into the bathroom and undressed while she adjusted the water. Once a warm fog wafted around him and glazed over the glass, he stepped in behind her. Becca gently nudged him in front, and nuzzled against his back. The hot spray hit his face and chest, and a little taste of heaven enveloped his body. When her small, delicate hands began to massage soap onto his knotted shoulders, his soreness sloughed away and followed the water spiraling down the drain.

  Becca snuggled close. The feel of her breasts pressed to his back sent a pleasant tingle through him. Her hands worked the lather over his chest and stomach in slow circles. Before they descended below his waist, he was already hard. He rotated to face her, his mouth finding hers, and time evaporated with the rising steam. An hour later, they lay in bed covered in a fresh sheen of sweat. Paige would be home any minute, so this time, they decided to shower separately.

  A smart move as it turned out. No time for a repeat performance as Paige came through the front door seconds after Marlowe made his way down stairs and into the living room. Her grandparents, Marlowe’s former in-laws, but he still considered them family, followed on her heels. They held up in the foyer, staring into the living room as if it were a quarantined zone. They had been in the house many times when Katy lived here, but now they appeared at a loss on how to proceed.

  “Get in here you two and have a seat. This is your home whenever you visit. You know that,” said Marlowe with a warm smile.

  Ginger and John Cummings blushed at their discomfort and ambled over to the sofa. John, sixty-four, stood maybe five-foot-six in shoes and a buck fifty soaking wet. Ginger, on the other hand, towered over him and outweighed him by a good thirty pounds or more. A mismatch in every conceivable way—John, quiet and reflective, with a dry sense of humor that often missed the mark, Ginger, verbose with a passive aggressive streak a mile wide.

  John worked for twenty years as an accountant for some manufacturer, Marlowe could not recall what they made, but the company closed the doors years ago, and John switched over to doing income taxes, inheritances and the like. Ginger stayed home until Katy and her sister Margarete moved out of the house. She returned to teaching elementary school up until retiring at sixty-seven last year.

  “What cha got there, Tiger.” Marlowe squatted down to Paige at face level, inspecting the stuffed animal she carried.

  “It’s not a tiger. It’s a zebra.” She hugged the oversized animal to her chest.

  “I meant you’re a tiger.”

  Paige scrunched her nose and gazed up at him as though he sprouted a second head. Marlowe chuckled and tousled her hair. “Okay then, how did you get the zebra?”

  “Grandpa won it for me. He hit the thing with a hammer and made it go up and ring the bell.” She seemed as proud as if she accomplished the feat herself.

  Marlowe arched an eyebrow at
John, who again blushed, smiled, and gave a nonchalant shrug. Marlowe tried to hide his surprise. The man did not look as though he could lift a hammer, much less swing one.

  “That’s great, Sweetie. You guys had fun then?”

  “Yeah, it was great. I rode all the rides. I wasn’t scared, but Grandma wouldn’t ride the big wheel. She said it went too high.”

  Ginger huffed. “No chance you’d get me on the thing. Death spinning, if you ask me.”

  “I got some cotton candy and rode a blue horse on the carousel,” said Paige.

  “I can tell. You still have some on your neck.” Marlowe laughed and wiped away a dot of tacky pink. “How did you manage that?”

  “Dunno. But it was good.” Paige beamed a bright smile.

  “Honey, why don’t you take your zebra upstairs and find a good place for him in your room? We want to talk with your dad for a minute.” Ginger had taken on her teacher’s voice. Paige glanced to her with a look indicating she objected to the suggestion for more than simply being sent from the room.

  “Come on, Paige. I’ll help you. Let’s give them some privacy.” Becca took Paige’s hand and smiled toward Ginger. The older woman returned the gesture without the warmth, still adjusting to a new love in Marlowe’s life.

  John and Ginger sat staring at Marlowe, a pensive air about them. John fidgeted, wringing his hands in his lap, while Ginger adjusted her blouse as though it was armor and she readied for battle. An uneasy feeling wormed into Marlowe’s gut.

  “So, what’s up?” he asked.

  Ginger straightened, her eyes flitting here and there with uncharacteristic evasiveness. “We’d like Paige to come to Ohio.”

  Marlow breathed a sigh of relief.

  Is that all. Why the tension?

  “I know Paige would love to come for a visit.”

  Ginger shook her head. “I mean…we want her to come back with us when we leave in a couple of days.”

  “Now’s not the best time. Maybe in the spring or summer, before she starts school. It’d be a nice vacation for her.”

  Again, Ginger shook her head, and John reached over to squeeze her hand. Something was definitely going on here, but for the life of him, Marlowe still could not put it together. After Katy died, his relationship with her parents suffered just as his relationships with everyone deteriorated. They tried to understand and gave him distance, but he shut them out, unable to deal with the unconscious needs and demands they put on him. Marlowe found no consolation for himself; how could he possibly comfort them? Getting out of bed and not drinking himself to death were about all he could manage, and those felt iffy most days. Providing solace to his in-laws, not exactly in his skill set at the time.

  Ginger glanced at her husband, then to Marlowe, and sighed. “Paige needs a safe, stable place to grow up. You’re hardly ever home, and every time you walk out the door she fears you won’t come back.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating. And Paige doesn’t think—” The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, like a cat’s when angered or scared.

  “She does, Marlowe. You just don’t see it. How many times has some crazy almost killed you? That awful Heretic nearly burned you alive. You think Paige doesn’t know?”

  Marlowe kept his breathing deep and tried to rein in the growing agitation. “It’s my job. Paige understands.”

  “No, she doesn’t. Don’t get us wrong. We admire what you do. You’re a hero in our book. But your job puts not only you in danger.” Ginger mustered her resolve and locked eyes with Marlowe over the rims of her glasses. A pedantic look he had seen many times before. An expression he assumed had irritated many of her students, one that seemed to say Now young man, I know best. “After Katy’s murder, I couldn’t sleep for months. When I closed my eyes, I envisioned what that man did to her. I wasn’t there and it haunts me, but Paige saw it all. I can’t imagine what still lingers inside her from such a traumatizing experience. She took two years to recover, and it’ll always be a part of her.” Ginger shuddered and leaned against her husband. “Brumbeloe targeted your family, and…” She took a deep breath, and her eyes steeled. “And now we learn one of these psychos kidnapped Paige. Threatened to kill her and you.”

  Marlowe’s eyes popped wide, his mouth agape. “What? Did Paige—”

  Ginger held up her hand. “Don’t be upset with her. She let a bit of it slip. Someone spooked her at the park, and I badgered her until she told me what happened. She isn’t safe here, Marlowe. You must understand that. I can’t stand by and do nothing. Can you guarantee it won’t happen again? Of course you can’t. And next time…I don’t want to think of the possibilities. It makes me sick to consider what monster might try to harm her. Let her come stay with us. Just until she’s a little older.”

  Marlowe stood; his fists balled. “You are not taking my daughter from me.”

  “No, of course not. We would never…we only want her to stay with us. You can visit anytime, and we’ll come down as often as possible. Call her whenever you want.”

  “Paige is where she belongs.” His teeth ground, the skin taut over clenched jaws.

  “Marlowe…”

  “I’d like you to leave. Before we say something we’ll both regret.” He stood and marched across the room, arriving at the front door before Ginger’s next word.

  “Just listen.” Ginger extended her arms in a supplicating gesture.

  “Please, leave. Now.” His voice had gone icy, his face stone. He opened the door, his gaze locked somewhere over her head, unable to look her in the eyes.

  “Dear, you heard the man. Let’s go.” John took his wife by the hand and glanced at Marlowe with an apologetic expression before guiding Ginger toward the door.

  Ginger paused beside him. “Marlowe, please, just think about it. We’ll be in town for a couple of more days.”

  Marlowe clamped his jaws, not daring to speak. He watched them leave, unable to move a muscle. After a moment, his body stopped shaking, and the heat in his face receded. Upstairs, he stood at Paige’s door, his hand hovering over the knob. His fingers trembled, refusing to latch on. Marlowe spun his back to the wall, and slid downward until his butt rested on his heels. Fighting a wave of emotion, he pressed slick palms to his eye sockets, elbows digging into his knees. More than anger stung at his psyche, memories gnawed and bit, resurfacing from dark places where he thought them forever locked away. Not so long ago he had considered exactly the measures Ginger now urged. He said the same things, gave himself the same dire warnings. Granted, a different time and a different Marlowe, but had things really changed so much? Yes, he was in a better place. His relationship with both Becca and Paige stood on solid ground, and he no longer thought of eating a bullet to stop the pain, but the job stayed the same. Everything Ginger said remained true. He could not guarantee another killer would not use his family against him. He could not promise one would not successfully take him out. Was he being selfish? Paige’s safety must come before anything else, her emotional well-being paramount.

  No, he could not lose her again. Regardless of the risks, or what Ginger and John thought, Paige belonged with her father. He was not the only cop with kids. Granted, his assignments drew greater danger than the average detective or beat cop. Even so, most working homicide or vice knew the same worries and fears. Maybe the divorce rates were high and addiction rampant, but some made it work. And so would he. The job might define him, but it could never be all of him. Without his family and friends the job lost meaning, and Marlowe became someone he did not much like. He traveled that road near to its end, and the destination led to isolation, depression, and hopelessness. Places he no longer called home and harbored no desire for a return trip. He pushed to his feet and entered Paige’s bedroom. Becca rose from the bed to meet him.

  “She’s really upset, but won’t tell me why. Is everything okay?” Becca placed a hand on his chest and glanced back at Paige.

  “Yeah, fine. I’ll fill you in, but let me have a minute w
ith her.” Marlowe kissed Becca on the forehead and ushered her from the room.

  “Doesn’t seem like a great place for your zebra.” Marlowe sat down on the bed near Paige and nodded to the stuffed animal lying on its side in a corner of the room.

  “I don’t want it.” Paige pouted her little lips, a defiant set to her cheeks and brows.

  “Don’t be like that. Your grandma and grandpa just care about you. They want what’s best for you.” He rubbed her back, trying to keep the angst from his voice.

  “I don’t want to live in Ohio. I want to stay with you and Becca, and Mable.” Paige grabbed her favorite teddy bear and cuddled it against her chest, biting down on one fluffy ear.

  Marlowe took her by the shoulders and rotated her to face him. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “You promise?” The helpless plea in her eyes broke his heart.

  “I promise.”

  Paige smiled and seemed to relax, Teddy’s moist ear leaving her mouth.

  “Are you afraid? Afraid something will happen to me, or someone might hurt you? Do you still get scared about the man that took you, or any of the other things?” Marlowe raked a lock of long blonde hair from her face.

  “Sometimes. I didn’t mean to tell Grandma.”

  “Don’t you worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I don’t want you to be afraid. You’re a tough little tiger, you handled yourself so well when that man threatened you. So brave. But it’s not something any little girl should have to deal with, and I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You know that, right?”

  “I know. You’re the best dad ever.” She squeezed his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

  Marlowe chuckled. “I doubt it, but I try. The main thing is, I don’t want you to ever be afraid. You know what to do if any trouble comes up. Find an adult. Try to stay close to Becca, Mable, or me. Don’t run off, out of our sight. And don’t talk to strangers. No more hi-ya karate moves.” She grinned. “Got it?”