by Jen Talty
“Yes, but you go overboard. You’re overbearing, overprotective, and damn right annoying about it all. Kevin shouldn’t be stressed out about taking his temperature. It should just be something he does. Same goes for his medicine. The doctor said the whole thing needs to become a part of his daily routine.”
He could hear his own voice in his mother’s words. He used to be the easygoing one; Janet had been paranoid and fretted over every little thing.
Slowly, Shane took another sip of his beer. He could picture Janet following Kevin around when he first learned how to walk, all worried he’d fall and hit his head and get a concussion. When Kevin had been diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, it had been Janet’s worse nightmare come true, but she’d been the one who remained grounded and strong while Shane fell apart. “Speaking of doctors, he’s got an appointment in the morning at eight and I’ve got a tough case. I want to get in early. I know it’s late notice, but can you get here at six instead of meeting me at the hospital? I’ll be able to make it there for the appointment.”
“I can do that. X-ray appointment, right?” his mother asked.
“Yeah. To make sure his breastbones are completely healed. It will probably last about an hour, but I need to go over some paperwork first thing, then leave right from the hospital for a briefing.”
“No problem,” his mother said as she rubbed her hands on the dish towel then tossed it to the sink. She leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. For most of his life, he’d been told he was the male version of his mother. He had her thick black hair, intense dark eyes, long legs, and the inability to keep his opinions to himself. But one thing he could count on from his mother was not to ask too many questions about whatever happened on the job. She read the papers. Saw the news. She knew what was going on but had respected that Shane never wanted to bring his work home unless he had to.
“When is Theresa moving in? I’ve been really worried about what you’re going to do if and when you got called to work in the middle of the night and you can’t reach me and Dad, or your brothers.”
That had been something that still weighed heavily on his mind. It was part of the reason he’d stayed away from going back to homicide in the first place, until his sister Anna had called, asking if her daughter could move in because of some housing problem at the University of Rochester. “She’ll be here Thursday, but Anna mentioned something about coming in a day or two early to visit you. Didn’t she call you?”
“Not yet,” his mother said. “It was really nice of you to take her in like that.”
“Anna knew I needed help, and I don’t think Theresa liked living in the dorms, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
He second-guessed everything these days. “I know she’s family, but I don’t like the idea of leaving Kevin with someone so young. Kevin’s needs are special and she’s barely twenty.”
“You have got to stop this. You’re going to make Kevin paranoid about everything and that’s no way to live. Besides, you know Theresa wants to go into medicine.”
“Come on, Mom. Are you going to tell me you’ve stopped worrying about all of us? I seem to remember when I first became a cop you’d call my house every day.”
“Now that is an exaggeration. I called regularly because, if I didn’t, you’d never call me. I still call you regularly. And no, I will never stop worrying about you kids. Or my grandkids. But you know this is different. You’re causing stress in his life that he can’t afford to deal with.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” She held up her hand. “Besides, you need to get a life.”
“Oh, no. We are not going down this road again.” Two years might be enough for a man to start dating again after losing his wife to a drunk driver, but not for Shane. Not when Kevin’s illness had taken a turn for the worse only months later. Even now that Kevin was doing better, Shane still wasn’t ready.
“I’m just saying you need to take care of yourself, too.”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.” Shane shook his head. He was tired of having this conversation.
“You’re lonely.”
“I’m busy.”
“Same thing,” she said. “It would be good for you to go out. Meet people. Date even.”
“Drop it.”
“No,” she said as his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a second text message from Kara. His mother looked between the phone and him. “Kara Martin? Why is she texting you? When did you start talking to her again? Is there something I should know?”
He’d ignored Kara’s first text because he didn’t want to deal with her, or the case, until after seeing his son, but he’d put her name and phone number in his contacts, which was why her name was prominently displayed on his screen. Perhaps that had been a mistake. “She’s an FBI agent who is going to be working with me on a case. She’s letting me know what time she’ll be at the precinct tomorrow.”
“She’s coming to town?”
He nodded.
His mother smiled.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” he said.
“Been a long time since you’ve talked to her. How do you feel about that? About seeing her again?” Leave it to his mother to go right to his feelings.
“It’s work. It’s not personal. There’s nothing to feel.” Only, he felt an array of emotions that spanned from anger to excitement.
His mother lifted her chin. “But it is personal, and you’re feeling something on that level. I can see it in your eyes.”
He kissed his mother’s cheek. “Drive home safely and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Shane watched his mother pull out of the driveway before closing and locking the door. He checked his watch. It wasn’t too late to call Kara, but instead he fired off a short text saying he’d call her in the morning and asked what time would be good. He just wasn’t ready to hear her voice again.
Chapter 2
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
ROUTINE WAS IMPORTANT to Special Agent Kara Martin. Every morning she’d wake up, put on her running clothes, and jump on the treadmill for one hour. Her routine almost never changed, even on weekends. She’d then turn on her coffee maker, and while it percolated she’d shower, then quickly blow dry her long brown hair, then put it up into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her makeup consisted of mascara and light brown eyeliner, which matched her eyes. She never bothered with lipstick or face powder.
Her morning ritual started at five and ended at eight when she strolled into the FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C., except for on Fridays when she stopped at the bakery for her father’s favorite doughnut. She’d buy two, putting one in a bag for the security guard at the Federal Building. Then she’d take one bite of the other greasy, glazed fried cake, in her father’s memory. She’d hold on to the doughnut all day, taking small bites, usually finishing it by dinnertime.
Her father used to call it the ‘Treat O’Friday’ and it was just between her and dear old dad. It had been his day to go into work late, and he always spent the morning with Kara. It was their alone time. If heaven were an easy trip, she’d go there every Friday with a dozen doughnuts.
This Friday happened to be the second day of the New Year. Her boss had called her in to discuss being the FBI liaison in a case involving the death of a New York State Congressman’s daughter in her hometown of Rochester, New York. A place to which she swore she’d never return.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Stanley, the guard at the metal detector said as she handed him the doughnut. “Oh, how I live for Fridays,” he said.
“Me, too.”
He never asked why she’d started bringing the doughnut, but she sensed he understood how important it was to her.
“How was your evening?”
“Exceptional.” Kara placed her weapon and badge in the tray. Entering the office wasn’t any different than going through secur
ity at the airport, except the security here was probably better. Definitely nicer. “Have you finished watching Breaking Bad yet?”
The guard shook his head. “I did manage two episodes last night. That show is addicting.”
Kara stepped through the machine and collected her belongings, including an overnight bag. “Best show ever written. After that, you’ve got to watch Bloodline.”
“You really need to get a life,” Stanley said.
“Work, great movies, and televisions shows. That’s my life.”
He shook his head. “Have a great day, Sunshine.”
“You, too,” she said.
She made her way through the Federal Building and into the Violent Crimes Unit. Her father’s murder had sealed her fate in becoming an FBI agent and working specifically with this unit. It had taken her awhile to achieve this goal, but only because she’d nearly screwed up her life when she couldn’t get past the pain of her existence.
She tossed her purse into her desk drawer and rolled her overnight bag to the corner of her office before refilling her travel mug with fresh coffee and heading for the conference room. Little information had been forwarded to her regarding this case. The fact that she had no idea how long she’d be in her hometown only added to the nerves of seeing Shane again. No matter how hard she had tried to put him out of her mind, he always managed to invade her thoughts and dreams.
As she entered the conference room she expected to see the entire team, but instead was greeted by her team leader, Special Agent in Charge Austin Cummings, and Special Agent Ben Foster.
After she took her seat, she checked her phone. No messages from Shane. She shouldn’t have reached out to him like that.
Foster slid her a file. “So, you know the lead detective,” he said as he tapped the folder in front of her. Foster was a year older than Kara and looked more like a hockey player than an FBI agent. He had two distinctive scars on his face: one across the top of his right eye, the other down the left side of his cheek to his mouth. He was also missing one tooth, which he’d said was removed when he got hit in a fight playing junior hockey up in Toronto. Kara was pleased she’d guessed he’d been a hockey player from the start. But the best part about Foster was his dry sense of humor and off-color remarks.
Technically, Foster was Kara’s partner. But the team generally traveled together. This time it appeared she and Ben would be flying solo.
“We went to high school together.”
“His captain has been informed that you’re coming,” Cummings said. He sat at the head of the table. He was approaching sixty. His hair was jet-black, obviously dyed, but it was thick, so it didn’t look too bad. He was a handsome man, with well-defined features and soft green eyes. He’d been the one to interview her years ago, right out of training. She was lucky to have been assigned to the unit of her choice.
She watched as her boss flipped through the contents of the folder. He shook his head, let out a long sigh, and ran his fingers across his cleanly-shaven chin. “This is a sensitive case. Congressman Cleary made a statement early this morning that puts the Rochester P.D. in a bad light. He doesn’t think the missing person’s case was handled properly, but we don’t want to upset the locals. This is their case. They have lead.”
“Not a problem.” Kara stared at Foster. He was notorious for ruffling the locals’ feathers in ways that fueled the rivalry between local police departments and federal agencies. “Right, Foster? No pushing the buttons of those we’re supposed to be supporting.”
“That’s asking a lot of this old dog,” Foster said. “And oftentimes they start it.”
“Well, don’t finish it,” Cummings said. “You two work with the locals, not against them, but play mediator with Clearly.”
“We can do that,” Foster said.
“I can do that.” Kara pointed to Foster. “Not so sure he can. Last time we worked a murder case he got into it with the local Chief of Police. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Really, I can behave.” Foster winked. “Pinky swear.”
Kara shook her head.
“Plane is gassed up and ready. Call in if you need anything.” Cummings exited the office.
It was at that moment that Kara’s cell phone buzzed, Shane’s number popping up on her screen. She answered immediately, mouthing to Foster who was on the phone. “Hello?” She slipped from the conference room and headed back to her office to gather her things. “Shane?”
“Hey, Kara.” Shane’s voice still had that husky timbre she remembered.
Memories of her childhood flooded her mind’s eye. Long walks on the beach at Durand Eastman Park. Laughter riding up the chairlift at Bristol Mountain in the dead of winter. Spending the night in his dorm room. His voice alone had been the source of everything she once held dear.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good,” she said. She and Shane had been the ‘it’ couple in high school. Everyone thought they’d stay together forever. “I’m getting ready to head your way. Should touch down in a couple of hours.” She steadied her hand. She had a job to do. What she had with Shane ended fifteen years ago, and should have no bearing on the present.
“You have anything for us?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “We’ve got algorithms trying to match possible connections to open and cold cases, as well as known perps, but the computer hasn’t generated anything concrete yet. Could take a few more hours. A lot of databases to cover.”
“Did you see the Congressman’s press conference?” Shane asked. “He called the press to his house at five. Made the 6AM news.”
“No, but I heard about it.”
“It’s been less than 24 hours and we’ve got jack shit as far as a lead.”
“Any chance there’s been a prelim autopsy report?”
“I’m told in the next 24 hours, but the M.E. is going to take his sweet time with this one, crossing every ‘t’, dotting every ‘i’. He put a rush on a lot of the lab work, but no one is going to want any mistakes, so even a rush is going to be double-checked.”
Kara saw Foster waving at her, so she snagged her overnight bag and her purse and headed out the door. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk more when I get there.”
“It’s good to hear your voice again,” Shane said. “Been a long time.”
“It has.” Kara ended the call and took a deep breath. Long time or not, he still affected her on every level.
Chapter 3
SHANE RACED DOWN THE hospital corridor, running ten minutes late for his son’s appointment. But he’d gotten through all the reports filed by the officers who’d been at the crime scene last night. He turned a corner, nearly hitting a woman carrying a basket of flowers. “Sorry,” he said as he passed.
He pushed open the door to the transplant wing of Strong, a place he’d become intimate with. He knew every doctor and nurse, as well as all the administrative staff.
“Good morning,” a nurse he’d never seen before said.
“Hi.” He looked around but didn’t see his son or mother. “My son, Kevin, and his grandmother—”
“Are you by chance Shane Rogers?” The nurse looked to be in her mid-thirties, maybe a few years older than Shane.
He nodded.
“Your son just went down to X-ray.”
“I’ll head there.”
“You’ll end up missing them,” she said. “Can I get you some coffee?”
He let out a long breath. “All right. Thanks.” He knew the most important part of today’s visit was after the X-ray, when they sat down and talked to the doctor about the results, but it didn’t make him feel any better that he didn’t get to see Kevin before the simple test. “You must be new,” Shane said.
“I worked in the ER for a few years. Got burned out, so I asked for a transfer up here.” She handed him the coffee. “Your son is adorable, and quite good at card tricks,” she said.
“Thanks,’ he said, appreciating the woman’s kind words.
“However,” she hesitated, “did you know he’s carrying a pocketknife? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se, just thought I’d ask.”
“I know.” Shane’s chest tightened. He hated being tough on his son, but he’d told him a million times there was a time and place for the knife, and the hospital wasn’t one of them. “He’s not supposed to have it on him when he leaves the house. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled sweetly.
“What exam room?”
“Four,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” He hit the button to the automatic doors and entered a long corridor filled with other patients having various tests. This is what he called the nice side of the wing. It’s where there were happy tears. Patients living their lives when death had been imminent just a few short months ago.
He pulled back the curtain to room number four.
“Look who made it,” Dr. Nads said as she stepped into the room behind him.
“X-ray done yet?”
“It is,” Dr. Nads said. “Kevin wanted to give a little magic show to the staff.”
The last present Janet had bought him was a book of magic tricks. Since her death he’d become obsessed with magic, and if Shane was being honest with himself the tricks made it feel like Janet was still with them in some small way.
“I wanted a chance to talk to you privately.”
Shane didn’t like the sound of that. “Okay.”
“He’s doing great, physically,” Dr. Nads said. She wore the standard white lab coat over blue scrubs. Her light brown hair fell short of her shoulders. She wore little to no makeup, which she didn’t need anyway. “His breastbone is completely closed, which was the purpose of this visit. His heart rate is normal. I did draw some blood today. I won’t have the results until later, but I suspect that will all be normal, too.”
“Then why the private convo?”
“I know this has been a difficult couple of years for you, but your constant obsessing—”
“I’m worried about my son’s recovery and you’re making me nervous.”
