by Sara Davison
Gage glanced over at the corner table where the boys appeared to have settled in for the night. When he turned to face her, Nicole crossed her arms. For a few seconds, Gage didn’t move then he grabbed his coat and pushed to his feet. She stepped back as he slung it over his shoulders and thrust an arm into the sleeve.
“For interest’s sake …” His voice was low and soft.
She looked up. His dark eyes still studied her, as though trying to figure her out. Good luck with that. She’d been trying to do the same thing for twenty-nine years and hadn’t gotten very far. The tingling in her stomach intensified as she waited for him to finish his sentence.
“If we’d gone the ice-breaker route, discussed something a little more neutral, like the terrible weather we’ve been having, or last night’s hockey game …?”
“We’d still be closing.”
Gage nodded slowly. “All right then.” He pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans.
Nicole reached out to straighten the glass vinegar bottle and the beige and black plastic salt and pepper shakers on the table. A small tremor worked its way through her fingers, and she pulled her hand away quickly and stuck it into her apron pocket.
Gage dropped some bills on the table and smiled. “Thanks, Nicole. Everything was … great.” He took a step toward the door then turned around. “Maybe I’ll stop in again sometime. We could talk about how the Leafs are doing.”
She shook her head. “It’s usually a lot busier in here. I don’t make a habit of sitting down with customers.”
“Ah.” He pulled on his gloves. “It was nice to meet you then.”
“You too,” she mumbled, pressing her palm against the speckled Formica tabletop and forcing herself not to turn and watch as he crossed the diner. When she was sure he was gone, she grabbed the mugs from the table and headed to the kitchen, Connie’s words still echoing in her head.
Nicole did know that not everyone left. They just left her.
Chapter Four
“Hey, Mom.” Detective Daniel Grey crouched down and ran his gloved hand over the top of the smooth, brown headstone, brushing away the snow. “It’s me.”
She wasn’t there, but even now, two years after her sudden, unexpected death from complications after what should have been routine surgery, it helped Daniel to have a place to come and talk to her, to focus his grief. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here in a while. Life’s been a little crazy the last few weeks, since Sharleen and I got assigned that child abduction case at work.”
He pulled off one glove and ran his fingers over the letters engraved in the stone. Cara Elizabeth Grey. Beloved wife and mother. His chest squeezed. Yes, she was. He tugged his glove on and sank back on his haunches. “And no, since it’s the first thing you’d ask me if you were still here, I’m not seeing anyone.” Snow drifted down from a steel-tinged sky. Daniel brushed a few flakes from his knees. “You’ll be happy to know Becca has picked up the torch from you and bugs me about that every time I see her.” He sighed. “I haven’t met the right woman yet, I guess. Although, even if I did I’m not sure it would work out. It’s not easy being married to a cop.” He let out a short laugh. “Look who I’m talking to. I don’t have to tell you that, do I? Somehow you did it, but it was tough some days, wasn’t it?”
It had to have been, but his mom never complained. Just prayed every day that his dad would come home to them and then left him in God’s hands. Something Daniel prayed too, for himself, every time he headed out for a shift. Maybe, if I could meet a woman with a faith like that …
He shook his head and pushed to his feet with a groan. He didn’t have any interest in starting a relationship right now. He had to focus on his job if he wanted to prove that he and his partner could handle this case, their biggest one yet. Two missing kids were more than enough to think about. He stood for a moment, head bowed. Footsteps crunching across the snow pulled him from his reverie, and he looked over.
“Hi, Son.” His dad stopped on the other side of the engraved stone and rested his cane against it. He tucked a red and black plaid scarf more securely down the front of his coat—a barrier against the icy breeze that swept through the rows of headstones—and zipped the coat to his chin.
“Hey, Pop. I didn’t know you were coming here today.”
“Yep. Your sister brought me. She dropped me off and went to park the car.” He waved a hand toward Daniel’s younger sister Becca. Her long brown hair hung over the shoulders of a multi-colored wool coat as she picked her way carefully through the cemetery toward them.
When she reached them, Daniel pulled her in for a hug. “Hey, Bec.”
“Hey, yourself.” She scrutinized him. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. What’s new? Seeing anyone these days?”
A smirk crossed Daniel’s face as he glanced at his mother’s grave. “See?”
Becca nudged his arm. “Well?”
He blew out a breath. “Could we talk about my love life—or lack thereof—somewhere else?”
“We could, if I ever saw you anywhere else. You haven’t been over for ages.”
Daniel slid an arm around his younger sister’s shoulders. “Sorry about that. Work’s been crazy. Tell you what, if you promise to make that fried chicken I like, I’ll come by one night next week. I’m dying for a home-cooked meal. TV dinners get old pretty fast.”
“I’ll bet.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise you fried chicken. My stomach does not appreciate the aroma of hot grease these days.”
“What are you talking about? That’s your favorite smell in the …” Wait. Was she saying what he thought? Daniel cocked his head to one side. “Something you want to tell us?”
A sheepish grin crossed her face. “I waited until we came today so I could give Mom and Dad the news together, but I’m glad you’re here too. Austin and I are having a baby.”
Daniel pulled his sister to him again. “Becca. Congratulations. That’s the best news ever.”
When he let her go, she brushed hair away from both cheeks with red-mittened hands. “Thanks. We think so too. Although …” Tears sparkled in her eyes as she rested a hand on their mother’s gravestone.
Joy and sorrow mingled in Daniel’s chest. His sister and brother-in-law had been trying to get pregnant for a couple of years. As thrilled as he was for them, though, aching loss assaulted him again. Mom would have loved being a grandmother, and she would have made an amazing one.
Pop cleared his throat. “Come on now. This is a time for celebration. Mom wouldn’t have wanted you to be sad. Not today.” He took Becca’s hands in his and kissed her cheek. “Finally. I was starting to think I would never be a grandfather.” He shot a pointed look in Daniel’s direction.
A conspiracy. Daniel shook his head as Becca laughed.
In spite of his dad’s own admonition, a shadow crossed his face as he let go of Becca’s hands. Daniel’s chest squeezed. His father had married later in life, when he was almost forty. His wife had been fifteen years younger—a beautiful, vivacious twenty-five-year-old when they met, with the dark hair and bright blue eyes Daniel and Becca had inherited. The story, which both their parents loved to tell, was that they had reached for the same loaf of bread in a bakery downtown and that was all it took. A few weeks later, she confessed she’d fallen as in love with him as he had with her. As far as Daniel could tell, his dad had never quite gotten over the wonder of that. Just like it seemed he would never get over the shock of losing her.
Time to give him a moment with Mom. Daniel held out his arm. “Come on, Bec, let’s go for a walk.”
“Good idea. I can fill you in on all the wonderful symptoms I’ve been experiencing the last four months.”
“Great.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “We’ll be back soon, Pop.”
Their dad nodded, but his gaze had fallen to the stone slab at his feet.
Daniel led his sister to the shoveled-off cement walkway that wended its way around the cemetery.
They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, until one of her tan, faux-fur-rimmed boots slipped on a small patch of ice. Daniel clutched her arm tighter to keep her upright. “Watch it. We don’t want anything to happen to that little one.”
She patted his elbow. “Look at you, Uncle Daniel. Taking care of your niece or nephew already.”
He grinned. “Uncle Daniel. I could get used to the sound of that.”
“It doesn’t have quite the ring of daddy, but I guess it will have to do, for now.”
“Becca.” Daniel sent his sister an exasperated look.
“All right, all right. I’ll back off.” She squeezed his arm. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I know. But what you ecstatically married people never seem to be able to grasp is that it is possible to be happy and single. I have my family, my church, lots of good friends, and a job I love, most days. My life is full.”
“Is it exciting?”
“What, my life?”
“Your job. Is being a detective as challenging and glamorous as it looks on TV?”
“Glamorous, no, but it’s definitely challenging. I’ve barely been home the last few weeks. Sharleen and I have been working night and day, trying to figure out who is taking these kids so we can prevent any more from disappearing. There’s a lot of pressure, believe me.” He stopped and turned to face her. “And now that I’m going to have a little niece or nephew growing up in the city, I am more motivated than ever to nail this guy.”
Becca slid a hand through his elbow as they started walking again. “I hope your DS knows how lucky he is to have you and Sharleen working for him.”
Daniel snorted. “There’s no way DS Lector will ever consider himself lucky to have us. He is the toughest guy I’ve ever met. He looks at me like I’m some kind of bug crawling across the floor that he’d like nothing better than to stomp on with his boot and be done with. My only consolation is he looks at everyone else the same way.” He repressed a shudder. “When I first started, I thought I’d be taking every opportunity to impress him with my superior skills and intellect, but instead I spend most of my time trying to stay out of sight. Even the veterans are terrified of him.”
“Why does he still have a job?”
“Because he’s the best Detective Sergeant in the city. It’s not only the other cops who are scared of him, it’s the criminals. The police chief loves him for that, and the Police Services Board loves the chief for appointing him, so the DS isn’t going anywhere.”
“Speaking of Sharleen”—Becca stepped around another icy patch in her path—“are you going to her place for dinner next Saturday night?”
His eyes narrowed. “She asked me, but I haven’t said whether I’m coming or not. Why, are you going?”
“Yes, she invited Austin and me too. If you come, we can catch up there. That would be better than me having to cook for you.” She flashed him the mischievous grin he was rarely able to say no to.
Daniel made a half-hearted attempt to fortify himself against it. “Since when are you and Sharleen such good friends?”
“Since forever. You know that.”
“I know you’ve met her. I didn’t realize the two of you hung out.”
“We don’t, usually. Mostly we talk on the phone, or text.”
A growing suspicion swirled through his gut. “What do you talk about?”
“All kinds of things. Life, work, her kids …”
“So, not me.”
Becca appeared to be laser-focused on the walkway in front of her as she made her way carefully across the slick surface.
Daniel let go of her and stopped walking. “Rebecca.” He injected as much firmness in his voice as possible.
She faced him. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use your cop voice with me. I’m not a criminal.”
“Then why do you look so guilty?”
Her shoulders slumped. “All right. Your name does come up, occasionally. We’re both concerned about you. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
He planted both fists on his hips. “I’m thirty-five years old, not quite ready to apply for social security yet.”
Her lips twitched. “Maybe not, but you are becoming more cemented in your bachelorhood with every passing day.”
Oh brother. “Putting that drama degree to good use, I see.”
She ignored the dig. “What happened to that girl you brought to church a couple of months ago?”
“Who, Anna? Nothing happened to her. She was fine, last I heard.”
His sister raised an eyebrow.
Daniel blew out a breath. He was tired, suddenly. Visiting his mother’s grave had taken quite a bit out of him, and he didn’t have it in him to have this discussion with his sister. Again. “Anna is great, but she wasn’t the right one for me. And since—as you are fond of reminding me—I’m not sixteen anymore, I have no interest in dating for the sake of dating. If there’s no future in it, I’m not going to waste my time. Or hers.” He dropped his hands from his hips and started walking.
“Fair enough.” Becca fell into step beside him. “So you’ll come on Saturday?”
“Will you promise to limit the topics of conversation to work, life in general, and Tom and Sharleen’s kids? It shouldn’t be hard if that’s really all you usually discuss with her.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll keep my personal life off the table?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Daniel pursed his lips. It wasn’t like his sister to capitulate to his requests that easily. “That’s what I want.”
“Fine.” She smiled at him again and, although he tried to hold on to it, his irritation slipped from his grasp.
He sighed. “Okay then, if I can get away from work, I’ll come. But enough about me. Weren’t you going to tell me about your newly-acquired cravings for pickles and ice cream and all that other fun, pregnancy-related stuff?”
“Much as I’m sure you’d love to hear about all that, I’ll hold off until I see you on Saturday. Dad’s waiting at the car.” She inclined her head toward the parking lot ahead of them. Daniel followed her gaze. Sure enough, their dad had propped his cane against the side of the car and leaned against the passenger door of Becca’s white Corolla, rubbing his hands together as icy puffs of air spurted from his mouth. “I better get him back to the retirement home. He’s always a bit down after we come here.”
Daniel studied their dad. He was a big man, but he seemed small suddenly, shrunken. Coming here obviously took even more out of him than it did Daniel. “Do you bring him here often, then?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Every couple of weeks.”
He should have known that. And taken his turn. “I’m sorry, Becca. I haven’t been there for you guys lately. I’ll try to do better.”
“It’s all right. We really do understand. And we’re proud of you. Especially Dad. He brags about you to his friends all the time.”
That didn’t help ease the guilt any, but Daniel offered her a small smile as they made their way to her car.
Becca pulled the keys from the pocket of her coat as they approached their father. “Ready to go?”
Pop cast one more glance toward the cemetery. His eyes held sadness, but he managed a grin as he tugged his cap down over his ears. “If you are.” He held out his hand to Daniel. “It was good to see you, son.”
He grasped the proffered hand and pulled his dad in for a hug, slapping him on the shoulder a couple of times. “You too, Pop.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Daniel reached past his dad to open the car door. His dad settled himself on the passenger seat and Daniel closed the door, lifting a hand as the car reversed and headed for the exit. For several long moments he watched the road where the Corolla had disappeared.
He didn’t make promises lightly, and he had every intention of keeping the ones he’d just made to his sister and his
dad. Even if that meant fielding questions about his non-existent love life.
Ted Stiller pressed against the brick wall of the house. If his luck held, his target would be fast asleep in an upstairs bedroom, oblivious to the fact that her life was about to change forever. Blanketed in shadows, he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. The frigid air drove icy darts into his skin, even through the black denim of his jeans.
Normally he wouldn’t tug the ski mask down over his face until he’d reached the back corner of the house and disappeared from the view of anyone who might happen to drive by, but at minus ten degrees, it was too cold to wait. He grasped the bottom edge of the wool hat and yanked it down over his face. The eye holes limited his vision a little, but the protection the mask offered his cheeks and nose canceled out any potential danger.
He cursed the thinness of his gloves. It was imperative that he be able to use his hands freely, but his range of motion was hampered as his fingers stiffened in the cold, so he might as well have worn the thick leather ones he’d left in his home on Woodmount Avenue. A home he’d give anything to be in right now, sitting in front of the woodstove reading the latest John Grisham novel.
Stiller shoved back his shoulders. That would happen later, after his job was done, a reward for the risk he was taking to follow the orders he’d received earlier that day. After tugging his gloves up a little higher, he pushed away from the wall and crept toward the rear of the house. His sneaker caught a patch of ice and he nearly lost his footing. A good reminder that even they couldn’t predict every eventuality. He steadied himself with a hand pressed to the brick wall until his pulse slowed to a manageable rate.
Before rounding the building, he scanned the small, fenced-in yard. It took every ounce of patience he had not to move as cold crept from the frozen asphalt up through the bottom of his sneakers, penetrating his socks and numbing his feet.
The threat of snow hung in the air. A storm was coming, the second blizzard in two weeks, but the calm before it hit lent the yard—trees and bushes shadowy in the meager light of the ringed moon—an aura of stillness and peace. An aura distinctly at odds with the clamoring in his chest and mind.
