Mommy Said Goodbye

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Again, she was silent for a long moment before saying, “You’re confusing me.”

  He knew the way her forehead crinkled when she was bewildered or thoughtful. Her phone was in the kitchen; chances were, she’d be leaning against the counter, perhaps in her nightgown or pajamas. Pajamas, was his guess. Flannel, with cartoon animals on them. Something cheerful and utilitarian. She wasn’t a black lace type.

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded a little rough. “I can see why.” He paused. “I was running scared, Robin. I guess you could tell that. But…I miss having coffee with you.”

  “Even if you never actually drink the coffee.”

  Hearing her smile, he found his own mouth curving into a matching one. As crappy as his mood had been lately, the smile felt stiff. “Right.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Malcolm and I would love to ride with you. Actually, my car does need new brakes and I was debating whether I could afford them before next weekend.”

  “How badly does it need them?” he asked in alarm.

  “Not an emergency, I promise! But I don’t mind saving five or six hundred miles. If you’ll let me help with gas money, at least.”

  For the sake of her pride, he’d take her ten bucks. “Okay.”

  When he hung up the phone after making plans with Robin, Craig wondered what Officer Ann Caldwell would think if she knew he was falling for another woman before his missing wife had been found.

  Or had she guessed?

  “I’D LIKE TO DEVOTE more time to the Lofgren case,” Ann told her lieutenant.

  Balding, with his gut hanging over his belt buckle, Lieutenant Wilson was an old crony of her father’s. She’d never be anything but Caldwell’s little girl to him, she was willing to bet.

  She’d heard he had recently quit smoking. Now he stuck a toothpick in his mouth and sucked on it while he scrutinized her in unnerving silence. Finally, without taking his eyes from her, he said, “Diaz?”

  Her partner, lounging in the office doorway, shrugged. “It’s cold. It doesn’t justify more than an occasional poke to see whether any stench rises.”

  Anger at the betrayal tasted like bile in her mouth. “I have new developments. I’ve been working it on my own while he…”

  “Did the job I assigned?”

  “We split up our forces,” she said stiffly.

  “You know, your father had a bug up his ass about Lofgren.” The toothpick twirled. “Appears it runs in the family.”

  “You know this case meant a great deal to him.” Her jaw tightened. “Sir.”

  Lt. Wilson spit the toothpick into his trash can and pulled a bottle of antacids from his drawer. Popping two, he chewed. Ann stood waiting with her shoulders back like a recruit on inspection.

  “What new developments?”

  “Yeah?” Juan Diaz committed himself to coming into the room, grabbing a straight-backed chair and straddling it backward. “You ever plan to share?”

  She leveled a stare at him. “I didn’t think you were interested.”

  “You mean, you know I’m not obsessed.”

  “I’m not obsessed!” She glared at both men. “I just want…”

  “To finish what your father started?” The lieutenant didn’t sound altogether unsympathetic. He reached for another toothpick.

  Almost embarrassed that it had begun that way, Ann shook her head. “To know what happened to Julie Lofgren. I, uh, I’m beginning to think Dad was wrong.”

  The toothpick froze an inch from Wilson’s mouth. Diaz lifted his head, eyes sharp.

  After a moment, the lieutenant stuck the new toothpick in his mouth. “Why?”

  She told them what she had learned from asking questions her father hadn’t.

  “You think this kid really remembers one delivery from a year and a half ago?” Diaz asked.

  “I checked records. The neighbor filed a complaint the next day about the damaged parcel. So I went and talked to her. She remembers it and thinks she was perfectly justified in ‘dressing down’ that young man. He throws packages onto doorsteps. She’s seen him, she insisted. She was quite certain he was at fault. And—here’s the best part—she remembers him exchanging a few laughing remarks with some guy ‘hanging around’ outside. Apparently she boiled after hearing them laugh at her, as she interpreted it. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the vehicle.”

  “Okay,” the lieutenant said. “So we’ve got a young delivery driver who places a vehicle on the street near the Lofgren house. Could’ve been a boyfriend of some teenage daughter.”

  Ann shook her head. “He was too old. The driver put him in his thirties, at least. Anyway, I’ve asked. No teenagers on the entire block. No one has a friend who drives an old VW bus.”

  “Have you followed up on where Julie went that morning?” the lieutenant asked.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t had time.”

  The toothpick bobbed up and down while he thought. “Diaz? You okay on your other cases?”

  “Sure.”

  The sharp brown eyes zeroed in again on Ann. “Okay, then do it. I can’t let you off the Gossen murder, but when you can spare an hour, show her photo around.”

  Ann’s shoulders relaxed. “Sir, thank you.”

  “Know better than your father, huh?”

  She froze again. “Not better. I just…have a fresh eye.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched and incredulously, she came to the conclusion that he was smiling.

  “Go.” The lieutenant nodded toward the door. “Both of you.”

  Diaz lazily rose and restored the chair to its proper place. Nodding at Wilson, he sauntered out after Ann.

  “Traitor,” she growled, the minute they were out of earshot.

  He grabbed her arm and stopped her. “He asked for an honest opinion. I gave it.”

  “You knew this meant a lot to me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So I should have lied?”

  “You should have supported me!”

  “This isn’t the playground.” He let her go. “Grow up.”

  She found herself gaping at his broad back as he walked away.

  Grow up.

  “Jerk!”

  ROBIN LOOKED ill-at-ease from the start and Craig knew it was his fault. Why had he ever opened his mouth? In his I-must-suffer-alone dramatics, he’d given away too much.

  She’d hinted that she felt the same attraction. Which was nice to know, but he almost wished he didn’t, because it made resisting her harder.

  The price he’d paid was that she might never treat him again with the same relaxed, friendly warmth she once had. If he had a goal this weekend, it was to erode the wall she’d built. Coax her into forgetting what they had both revealed.

  Malcolm had bounded out of her house when Craig and Brett pulled up in their van. After dropping his duffel bag on the sidewalk and leaning a lawn chair against the side of the van, he poked his head in the sliding side door. Spotting the small TV monitor poised between the front seats, he proclaimed, “Awesome! I’d forgotten you had a TV in here.”

  “We can play video games.” Brett opened the box at his feet. “See? I brought…”

  Craig didn’t hear what he brought. Didn’t care. Dressed in chinos, Robin was locking the front door, a suitcase at her feet and a carry-on slung over her shoulder. He hurried up the walk.

  “Let me get that.”

  She turned a polite smile on him. “Don’t be silly. It’s on wheels.”

  “That one looks heavy.” He reached for the bag over her shoulder.

  “Well…thanks.” She trailed him, pulling her small suitcase. “Mal, are you sure you have everything? Uniform? Shoes? Shin guards?”

  Her son rolled his eyes. “You’ve asked me, like, three times. I’m not that stupid.”

  “So I fuss.” She lifted her own suitcase into the back of the van. “Oh! Where’s Abby?”

  “At a friend’s,” Craig said. “She wasn’t excited about spending the entire weekend watching soccer ga
me after soccer game.”

  “The hotel does have a pool.”

  “But I couldn’t leave her at it.” He put her lawn chair in with his, then added Malcolm’s bag to the heap. “She wrangled an invitation from her best friend.”

  “That was probably smart.”

  Malcolm and Craig’s son had both buckled in and were huddled over the shoe box full of video games. Robin shook her head, climbed in herself and fastened her seat belt.

  “Julie loved having that TV in the van.”

  Hearing constraint in her voice, Craig raised a brow. “You don’t approve?”

  “Mal and I do our best talking in the car. I think kids watch enough TV without taking it on the road.”

  “I agree.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her surprise. “Julie and I had a mild argument about it. She won.”

  Robin stroked the seat and looked around. “Have you been tempted to…” She hesitated.

  “Sell Julie’s van?” He kept his voice low. “Damn straight. But when’s the moment to decide she’s not coming back? I keep thinking about what the cops would think, and what the kids would think. They still say, ‘Can we take Mom’s van?’”

  Robin nodded and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I have to admit, when I saw your dad pull into the parking lot with it the first time, I thought, oh, there’s Julie.”

  “I should have driven the Lexus.”

  “No, this is okay. The boys’ll have fun. Besides…”

  “She’s not coming back?”

  Emotion battled on her face, ending with a sad twist of her mouth. “I suppose that’s what I was thinking.”

  “It’s roomier. I thought it would be more comfortable for this trip.”

  Robin nodded. “Really. It’s fine. This is so nice of you.”

  When she said things like that, he was conscious of the formality in her voice. It made him grit his teeth.

  “I figured we could stop in Ellensburg for dinner, if that works for you.”

  “Sure.” She smiled brightly in his general direction. “I’ve actually never been to Walla Walla. Have you?”

  The conversation for the first hour stayed at about that level. They discussed scenery, alternate routes, traffic and the hope for heavier snowfalls this winter to fill the reservoirs for summer. Once, near the Snoqualmie summit, an SUV owned by one of the other families passed and Craig beeped while the boys made horrible faces at each other out the windows.

  The ski area atop the pass was still bare of snow.

  “I’m sure they’re hoping to open by Thanksgiving,” said Robin, gazing at the brown slopes and ski lifts marching up the slope.

  More weather. Hoping to get slightly more personal, Craig asked, “Do you ski?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I used to. Malcolm took the school ski bus up last year and started lessons. It’s gotten so darn expensive, though.” She looked wistful. “Do you?”

  “A couple of times a year. The kids started young. Abby loves it, Brett hates being cold.”

  Robin laughed. “Did you learn as a child?”

  Glad she was curious, he told her about his family’s annual one-week stay at Lake Tahoe.

  “So you’re a Californian?”

  “Bay area. Dad owned an office supply store in San Mateo, just south of San Francisco. The chains were getting to be heavy competition about the time he decided to retire and sell out, but he hears his store is still hanging in there.” He told her about his mother, who had designed and sewed children’s clothes, which she sold in small boutiques. “She’d have loved to dress Abby now.” Silent for a mile or two, he said finally, “She had a stroke. It was a real shock. She was just starting rehab to get back full mobility when she had a second one that killed her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robin said softly. “Had the kids been born yet?”

  “Yeah, Brett remembers her. Abby was only two when she died. Only a couple of years later, Dad sold his store and moved up here to be near me and the kids.” He shook off the memory. “What about you?”

  “I’m a Washington girl, born and bred. My parents moved a couple of times when I was growing up. We lived in Spokane until I was eight or nine, then came to the west side of the mountains. I graduated from high school in Marysville, just north of Everett, went to Western Washington University in Bellingham, and then got my first teaching job in Tacoma. That’s where I met Mal’s dad.”

  Craig had been itching to know what her ex-husband was like and why her marriage had failed.

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Two-and-a-half years.” She nibbled on her lower lip.

  Craig had to tear his gaze back to the freeway, curving ahead down from the mountains toward the dry, open country of eastern Washington. He doubted she had any idea how sexy she was.

  She sighed almost inaudibly and glanced over her shoulder at the two boys, whooping as Brett took a turn with whatever bloodthirsty game they were playing.

  In a low voice, she said, “I told you about the nasty custody battle. Glenn didn’t actually want to raise a son. Even Malcolm knew that.”

  “You were given full custody?”

  “Oh, he has visitation rights, which he rarely bothers to exercise.” Under her breath, she added, “Thank heavens.”

  “What went wrong in the first place?”

  “We got married.” She laughed at his expression, although her mouth had a sad twist. “It was just…a mistake. I don’t know what we ever saw in each other. He liked hanging out at bars with his buddies. He bowled once a week, he drank beer and watched football games when he was home and a Terminator-type movie was his idea of a great night out. As it turned out, he had old-fashioned views of gender roles, too. One of those things you don’t learn when you’re dating. Housekeeping was my job. I was supposed to have dinner on the table at an hour that suited him and he never touched a diaper.”

  Reflecting on his own mistakes, Craig said, “We don’t use our heads when we’re young and in love.”

  “Apparently not. The truth is, Glenn and I were married eight years too long. But I can’t regret a thing. If not for him, I wouldn’t have Malcolm.”

  “Yeah.” Craig looked at his son in the rearview mirror. “I think the same thing sometimes.”

  They were silent for five or ten minutes, but comfortably so. After a while, he was the one to ask, “If Terminator wasn’t your idea of a good time, what is?”

  They were deep in a discussion of movies and theater when they reached Ellensburg. The boys voted for pizza and Craig took the exit that seemed to have gas stations and fast-food restaurants clustered around it. He found a Godfather’s, where they ordered, got drinks and salads and gathered at a table.

  “Can we go swimming when we get there?” Brett asked eagerly. “Huh, Dad?”

  Craig shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We have a long ways to go, though. I doubt we’re halfway.”

  “That’s okay. We’re having fun.”

  “Yeah!” her son agreed. “We can drive all the way to New York, if you want. I don’t care.”

  The two boys thought that was funny. The adults had to laugh, too. Craig had the fleeting thought that he wouldn’t mind, either. Driving on and on, Robin beside him, intimacy growing.

  Malcolm looked at Craig. “It must be so cool to be a pilot. Do you feel, like, powerful?”

  “No. I flew a fighter plane in the Navy, you know.”

  Awe transformed the boy’s face. “Really?”

  “It’s…exhilarating. But if you’re smart, you learn some humility, too.”

  With Robin’s encouragement, he told them about his early fascination with airplanes and flying. His father had paid for lessons in a two-seater, probably assuming he’d outgrow the phase, but instead he had become single-minded.

  “All I wanted was to go into the Navy. I saw myself launching from an aircraft carrier.” He smiled and shook his head at his youthful determination.

  “I still love to fly. There’s a sereni
ty and freedom up there, with the earth so small below, that I’ve never found anywhere else.”

  “Could you have applied to the astronaut program?” Robin’s son asked, expression avid.

  “Yes, but I didn’t consider it. I like flying above the earth. Not leaving it.”

  Malcolm nodded. “But imagine walking on the moon. Or Mars. That would be totally awesome!”

  Robin looked less than thrilled at the idea of her son rocketing into space. Craig remembered his mother having a similar, slightly horrified expression as she listened to him dream aloud.

  “It would be,” Craig agreed. “Seems these days, though, after budget cuts, the NASA pilots are mostly glorified delivery men.”

  “Satellites.” Malcolm nodded. “But they go out on tethers to fix stuff. They get to, like, float. I’ll bet they feel really heavy when they land on earth again.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so interested,” Robin commented.

  “Remember that space unit we had in school last year? I’ve been reading more about astronauts and astronomy ever since.”

  Craig cocked his head. “That’s our number. Boys, do you want to go get our pizza?”

  “And plates,” Robin called after them, as their chairs rocked in their wake. “An astronaut,” she muttered.

  “You know, this too will probably pass,” Craig pointed out.

  “But your passion for flying didn’t.”

  “No, but it was a little more practical than aiming for space travel. Getting into the astronaut program is…” He broke off when the boys returned, Brett triumphantly carrying the pizza and Malcolm the plates.

  Night had fallen by the time they left the pizza parlor. The lights of Ellensburg quickly fell behind them. The boys put in a movie and talked more quietly. Craig and Robin alternated periods of silence with relaxed conversation about everything and nothing: favorite foods, the worst movie they ever saw, the scariest teacher they could remember having, the friendships that endured from childhood. In the middle of telling Robin about his disastrous high school prom, Craig broke off.

  “You know, it just struck me. This is the kind of thing Julie and I never talked about. I know her favorite food, but nothing about her high school friends or the first guy she ever kissed.”