by Jan Coffey
She gave him a narrow stare. “So if I say no, you say come on. And if I say yes, you say slow down.”
“Right.”
“That fills me with confidence,” she concluded.
“So, you want to come up?”
“It’s a good thing that one of us has her head screwed on.” Ellie leaned over him and opened his door. For a brief second their bodies were in contact, and Nate was tempted to kiss her again, but he restrained himself. “I assume you’ll be coming around to the shop when you’ve gotten yourself together, Agent Murtaugh.”
Nate picked up his phone and climbed out. “Count on it.”
“By the way, what can I tell Vic about what happened to your motorcycle?”
“What did you tell him happened yesterday?” He stood on the sidewalk, leaning on the open door.
“That we got caught in traffic near the explosion, and you took a rain check.”
“I had the Philadelphia cops take it back for now. The Harley is a drug-confiscation item. It’s supposed to go on auction in a couple of weeks.” Nate thought about the logistics for a moment. “When would be the best night to bring it around? You know, when could I let Vic borrow it for a few hours? I want to get the biggest bang for the buck.”
“He’d become your slave for life if you let him use it on a Friday night.”
“Good…I mean about Friday. Talk him out of the slave thing, and I’ll bring it Friday.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She gave him a two-fingered salute, and Nate shut the door of her car and watched Ellie drive away.
For the first time in his career, he was straying from regulations when it came to personal involvement. For years, he had toed the company line, but things were changing in him and he knew it. He even knew where his ambivalence originated. A year ago, when he looked at that gun pointed at his chest, he realized that he’d done his duty and it was time for a change.
On Nate’s last assignment in the field, the shooter who’d missed blowing a hole in him had only hit him in the knee. That kid was supposed to be an FBI informant. A reliable source, Joey Sullen had been providing the when and where and who for the group Nate had just joined, in exchange for small perks. What Nate had not known until after the fact was that this young man, despite his size and his tough look, was only fourteen. And what he also didn’t know until it was too late was that the boy would do anything for his pregnant, sixteen-year-old girlfriend—including spoiling a sting because she liked the protection of the bad guys much better.
The reports had praised Nate for heroically saving four other agents’ lives. The fact remained that Nate had killed Joey that day, and his career goals had never felt quite the same since.
People were not as one-dimensional as they showed up in reports. Profiling was not a science but an art. Special agents were not machines, but humans. Not that knowing these things made him feel better. He’d still killed a kid. A kid who was never given a chance in his entire life.
Something had changed inside of Nate. He knew now that there was another side of life that needed to be explored. He was ready to move in a different direction. Set down roots. And not only to serve and protect, but to cherish and nurture. That was what he wanted now. He stared at the taillights of the BMW as Ellie turned the corner and disappeared.
Hawes almost cursed out loud when he stepped inside the elevator and found Cheri there. The only thing that saved him was the six other people that were waiting for the doors to slide shut, too. She was wearing a black miniskirt, and her blue eyes glanced meaningfully at his crotch before looking up. She had her “come and play” look on, but Sanford immediately turned around and stared at the lighted buttons over the door.
He’d left work a couple of hours early last night and taken Martha and three of their grandsons to an Orioles game in Baltimore. It had been ages since he’d done something that stupid and fun. Sitting in a ballpark with three rambunctious boys between them, Sanford had looked at his wife’s smile and had felt his priorities somehow aligning themselves again. In that moment, the meaninglessness of getting screwed in sixteen different ways by a woman less than half his age dawned on him. Instead, he realized that what he wanted was to make just one woman happy, and that woman was Martha, who had put up with him for all these years despite all his flaws.
Sitting in Camden Yards and looking at that smile that he’d loved for almost forty years, he knew that he could make things right with her again. He had to.
The door opened at his floor, and Hawes practically raced out of the elevator. Cheri’s perfume stayed with him. The click-click of her high heels followed close as he headed toward his office. It was still early. Very few people had arrived for the day. He was disappointed to see that his secretary wasn’t in yet, either. He hurried into his office and closed the door.
From the very few tiffs he’d had with Cheri over the past few months, Hawes knew that she was temperamental and explosive. Telling her straight out that it was time to call it quits was not an advisable approach. He had to think it through, plan it carefully, and then make the break with her as gently as possible. Of course, it would be better if she’d just get tired of him not being available as her old stud boy and find someone else.
No sooner had he taken off his jacket and sat down behind his desk when the office door opened and Cheri slipped in.
“I brought you some coffee.” She leaned back against the door, still holding the mug in one hand, and started unbuttoning her blouse. “You have to get your own milk and sugar from here.”
“Stop,” Hawes ordered. “Cheri, I’m expecting a conference call from the White House in five minutes. I have to be ready for it.”
She pouted. “You didn’t come over last night. Take me out for lunch.”
“I can’t,” he said shortly, shuffling paperwork around and turning on his computers. “There’s something already on my calendar.”
“After work, then. We’ll go back to the house and order in.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m watching a couple of my grandkids. Martha and my oldest daughter are going to some class.” Hawes was proud of himself for making this latest thing up. Wife, daughter, grandchildren—he was hoping the mention of all these things would make Cheri realize how much older he was than her. “Look, my life has become very hectic with my family commitments. I don’t have a minute to spare.”
He turned his chair and buzzed one of the agents downstairs, asking him to bring up a file. It was a meaningless case, but it started the clock ticking for Cheri to get out.
“So when is my time?” Disappointment and anger added a sharp edge to her tone.
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”
She put the coffee cup on the bookcase nearest to the door and buttoned up her blouse. “You weren’t such a doting husband and grandfather two nights ago when I had my mouth around your—”
The hard slap of his hand on the desk shut her up. “That’s enough.”
She angrily reached for the door. “I don’t think so.”
“Cheri, this workplace has always been, and always will be, off limits for this shit. So never again try to pull something like this in here or you’ll find your ass on the street.”
“We’ll just see about that, you old bastard.”
She slammed the door hard enough on her way out to spill the coffee on the bookcase.
So much for the gentle, carefully planned approach, he thought.
Fifteen
Ellie sat in her car by the Dumpster for quite a while, content to watch the ball game in progress. Her windows were rolled down, and the ripe aroma of the six-day-old garbage mingled with the smell of baked asphalt. She hardly noticed it, though, watching the bounce in Chris’s step as he ran to third base. She could hear his mouth running at least thirty miles an hour.
A child’s resilience is the most amazing thing, and although Ellie had been there herself once, she thought it almost a miracle to see how quickly the eight-year-old
had come out of his shell. It was a miracle.
She could have used a little of that youthful toughness today. Nate had managed to throw her system completely off kilter first thing this morning. After that, her entire day had gone downhill. Back at her apartment, she’d been too wound up to sleep. In the shop, she’d been too tired to be productive. When Vic had come in later to open up, she’d been too grouchy to face customers. So she’d been sent upstairs to lie down—only to toss and turn for an hour and a half and think ridiculous things about an arrogant FBI agent who sure knew how to kiss. She’d finally fallen asleep, thank God, even though it had only been for a couple of hours.
Ellie watched Chris score and was surprised to see him run over to someone sitting on the steps of one of the row houses beyond home plate. She had no view of them from here. Closing the windows, she took her purse and a cooler from the back seat, and then stepped out of her car as a young black kid from the neighborhood limped over.
“Wash your car, Miss Ellie?”
“The usual three bucks, Toni?”
The twelve-year-old kicked her dusty hubcaps and took a quick look around at the back bumpers. “I guess that’d be okay.”
“First, help yourself to some juice packs and fruit.” She put the cooler down and opened it.
He reached inside and took a juice pack and tucked it under one arm before taking a fistful of grapes. “Fer cryin’ out loud, Miss Ellie! Couldn’t you bring over some cold beer and Tastykakes? Or something good, at least?”
“No chance, pal.” Ellie took out five dollars and paid him in advance, telling him to keep the rest as a tip. Toni—born with one leg shorter than the other, missing an arm and subject to all kinds of medical conditions—was the hardest-working kid and the loudest mouth on the street, in addition to being one of the smartest. He didn’t play baseball during the summer months like the other kids, but worked any odd job he could hustle. And during the school year, he studied.
“Are you guys ready for a break?” she asked, carrying the cooler to the curb near home plate and leaving it open. Ellie got out of the way just in time to avoid being stampeded. Chris high-fived her on his way to the cooler.
Ellie looked over at the steps of the row house where Chris had been. There in the shade sat the grandmother of one of the ballplayers, two girls who had decided that they were the official cheerleaders, Ted Hardy and Nate. Trying to give herself a moment to get over the kick-start her heart was feeling at the sight of him, Ellie grabbed a handful of water bottles out of the cooler before heading over to them.
Nate was dressed in a navy-blue polo shirt, khaki shorts and sneakers. And it was her tough luck that he had to have muscular thighs—just another reason to lie awake and lose sleep. His left knee was a route map of white scars. He was listening to something Ted was saying, but his gaze never wavered from her face as she approached.
“I hear this is the happening place in the city,” she joked, returning the welcoming smile of the older woman and distributing the water bottles.
“It is now,” Ted answered, tipping up his baseball hat to look into her face. “What kind of crap are you feeding my kids today, broccoli and tofu freeze pops?”
Ellie knocked his hat off. “And what are you doing playing hooky? I want the name of your boss. I’m going to call and complain.”
“I know you wouldn’t betray the one true love of your life.” Ted grabbed her hand and tugged until she lost her balance and fell against him. As the others laughed, she delivered a solid punch to his arm and stepped on his hat before sitting down on the step next to him.
“Care for a pretzel?” the grandmother asked.
“Thanks.” Ellie took the bag being offered to her as a phone started ringing inside.
“Oh, that’d be my boy,” added the older woman, going in to answer.
“So how’s the game going?” Ellie asked.
Ted picked up his hat and dusted it off. “It was going great until you showed up and ruined it.”
She stole his hat away again and this time threw it on the street. “Watch what you say. People might think you don’t like me.”
“Nobody would think that.” He reached over and messed up her hair. “You’re too cute.”
“I hate cute.” Ellie moved the bag of pretzels out of Ted’s reach when he tried to take a couple. She turned and offered it to Nate. “When did you get here?”
There was a mildly puzzled look on his face. When Ted looped an arm casually around her shoulder and wrestled the pretzels from her, she couldn’t miss the frown that creased his forehead.
“Hey, you guys,” Ted shouted to the kids. “Don’t leave that trash around.”
“About an hour ago,” Nate answered coolly.
It was clear that Nate assumed there was something going on between her and Ted. As surprising as that was, the possibility of letting him continue to believe that lasted for less than a second. She would never use Ted like that—not after everything that he’d been through.
“Have you been inside?”
“Briefly. Sister Helen was busy, and your father wasn’t back from the hardware store.”
Ellie needed to know who Ted thought Nate was. “So how did you guys happen to meet?”
“Helen introduced us,” Ted explained. “With the kind of free time this guy has on his hands, I’m figuring we can get him involved with some coaching. A little football starting at the end of August. Basketball after that. Baseball—”
“No scheduling anything for the next two weeks,” she ordered, cutting Ted short. “After that, you’re welcome to do whatever you want with him.”
“What are you going to do to him that takes two weeks?” Ted’s tone was teasing.
“Ted, get your mind out of the gutter,” she ordered, pretending to be insulted and pushing his arm off her shoulder. Hearing Nate’s chuckle, she swung the pretzel bag at him. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about.”
“Think you could give him a few hours off on Friday night?” Ted asked.
“What for?”
“We’re all going to a Phillies game. You can come, too, if you want.”
She thought about Ray Claiborne’s party Friday night—an important affair in the world of Philadelphia area collectors. There was a possibility that whoever was running the Morris flag auction might have someone there. And having been Ray’s apprentice for years, Ellie would be expected to bring along her rich client.
“No time off. I’m taking him out for dinner Friday night.”
“You mean, as in a dinner date?” Nate asked with interest, leaning over her shoulder. His breath tickled her ear.
“No. As in a ‘feeding you and putting you back on the street’ dinner.”
Ted turned to Nate. “Then maybe you can still catch the ball game. I can leave you a ticket at the box office.”
“Good idea.”
“Bad idea,” she corrected. “Okay. As in a dinner date.”
Ellie was relieved to see her father’s car pull onto the street. The combination of these two men was lethal. She stood up. “I’m going in.”
“I need to find out more about this dinner date.” Nate got up, too, following her.
Chris, waiting for his turn to bat, gave Ellie and Nate a big smile as they went by. She greeted Lou through the open window of his car, but he grunted something unintelligible.
“Do you need a hand carrying this stuff in?” Nate asked just as Lou was getting out of the station wagon.
Ellie stood on the sidewalk and watched her father go into a long story about the cost of things and how they were making it impossible to repair anything anymore and how you had to replace everything these days. All the while, he was loading Nate up with odds and ends that he’d bought. A pang of envy stung her a little at the level of comfort that already existed between the two men. And they were barely more than strangers.
There was never any small talk between Lou and Ellie. The extent of their conversations was usually limited
to her asking questions and her father answering with a yes or no. She had to be fair, though. Sometimes he did extend himself to an “I don’t know.”
Initially, she’d blamed his dour silence on the years he’d spent behind bars. But he had no trouble communicating with Sister Helen, the other nuns, Ted or now even Nate. The problem obviously lay with her. Ellie couldn’t figure it out at all. She was the one who’d been wronged when Louis Littlefield had been sent to jail, but he appeared to be angry with her about it.
“There are some bags of groceries in the car. Do you want to get them?”
Nate’s question jarred Ellie out of her trance. Lou had already started for the convent door. She went to the open back door of the station wagon and stared inside. The smell of mold attacked her sinuses. The seats were worn and splitting from age. Rust had eaten away at the floorboards, and there were gaping holes through which she could see the pavement. She didn’t know how Lou could possibly get this junk heap past inspection every year. Ellie glanced at her own two-month-old BMW across the street. It was shining, thanks to Toni, and guilt slid coldly along her spine.
She tried to give her father things, she told herself, but he never accepted. She made enough money that he didn’t have to live in a basement, and that there was no need for him to work.
Ellie felt herself growing angry. They didn’t have to be strangers. She wanted to make up for the years they’d missed, but he had no interest. There were times when she wondered if he wanted to forget that she existed. If he wanted to put her behind him as he would any other bad memory. Like her mother. Maybe he expected Ellie to leave him, too, and never look back.
“Taking a nap?”
She frowned into Nate’s smiling face. Her temper reshaped and refocused on him. “Yes. I was having this wonderful dream. I had my fingers around your throat. Sort of a dream date.”
“Were we doing anything kinky?”
