“In the refrigerator.” Grace tossed the salad and judiciously added a few drops of lemon juice. “I know it’s a two-way street, but there wasn’t anything you could have done to make the situation better, so I didn’t see any point in upsetting you. I just told you now so you would understand why Tony’s staying here.”
“You should have told me anyway. That thing with the hamster, that’s scary.” Jackie opened the refrigerator and peered into the depths. She ducked, then emerged holding a half-full bag of shredded cheese. “Ah-hah!” she said, brandishing her find and closing the refrigerator door.
“The worst thing is, it seems to be directed at Jessica.” Grace was so used to keeping her problems to herself that she felt strange, discussing the situation with Jackie. But she was glad her sister knew. It was a relief to be able to talk about it.
“If you’d told me, the kids and I could have moved in with you for a while. God knows, Stan wouldn’t have objected.” There was a bitter note to Jackie’s voice as she said that last.
As Grace pulled the chicken from under the broiler, Jackie popped the broccoli into the oven for a few minutes to melt the cheese.
“How’s his job hunt coming?” Grace inquired sympathetically, transferring the chicken breasts to a serving plate.
“Same as always. The truth is, all he wants is his old job back, and since that’s not going to happen I expect him to be out of work for a while.” Jackie shrugged and removed the broccoli from the oven. The cheese had melted into an attractive golden layer on top, effectively hiding the mess underneath. “I wish I’d been smart like you and finished my degree. Life would be a lot easier for the kids and me.”
“That looks good,” Grace said, eyeing the finished product appreciatively. “You know, you could always go back to school.”
Jackie made a face as she set the dish on a trivet. “Maybe some day.”
“I could help you out financially. . ..” Grace tasted the salad and added a little more lemon juice.
“I couldn’t do it, not with the kids. And Stan would have a fit.”
“Screw Stan.” Grace tossed the salad one last time.
“I’d rather screw the hunky cop,” Jackie said wickedly.
“Jackie!” Grace was scandalized. “Grace!” Jackie mocked her.
“Here,” Grace thrust the salad bowl at her. “You set the table and I’ll finish the rest.”
“Want to use the good china?” Jackie teased, carrying the salad bowl to the table and setting it down in the middle. Grace threw her a look.
“Just set the table.”
Jackie laughed. “Okay, fine. Listen, maybe I should take the kids and go home, if you and the hunky cop want to be alone.”
“Just set the table,” Grace said again, carrying the pan of rice over to the sink and draining it.
Jackie stuck her tongue out at her sister and proceeded to set the table.
While the children watched TV in the family room, the three adults and Jessica ate in the kitchen. The food wasn’t of the same caliber as Tony’s family’s feast, but it was decent and healthful and there was enough of it. Tony and Jessica talked basketball, arguing the relative merits of the Pacers (his favorite) versus the Boston Celtics (hers). Meanwhile, Grace and Jackie, neither of whom had the least interest in professional basketball, talked children and personalities, while Grace tried to think of a way to work birth dates into the conversation. Finally the four of them moved on to general topics. Jessica excused herself to go upstairs and do her homework, while the adults lingered over coffee.
“Jax, what do you want for your birthday?” Grace asked, having given up on coming up with some brilliant way to introduce the topic. Stupid would have to do, but at least she was not batting her eyelashes at Tony.
“It’s not until the end of February,” Jackie said, eyeing her with some surprise.
“I know, but I was thinking about starting my Christmas shopping soon, and I thought I might as well get all my gift-buying over with. So what do you want?”
“Anything.” Jackie shrugged and gave her one of those sister looks that said, what on earth are you babbling about?
Grace ignored it.
“When’s your birthday, Tony?”
“November 16. I’ll be forty.”
Scorpio. He was a Scorpio. He hadn’t circled the horoscope. Had she ever really thought that he had?
Her stomach tightened around the just-consumed meal, and she started to feel sick.
“Grace, I’m serious about the kids and me staying here with you until this thing is over,” Jackie said earnestly while Grace fought to keep her distress from showing. “There’s safety in numbers, you know.”
“That might just make you and your children targets, too,” Tony said. “And we’d have three more people we’d have to protect.”
“But if Jessica’s the target, why would the creep be interested in us?” Jackie argued.
“I’m not sure that Jessica is the target. Grace may well be the target, with the perp using Jessica to get at her. He could get at her through you and your children, too.”
“We’ll still stay.” Jackie looked at Grace. “I hate the idea that you and Jess have been going through this all alone.”
“Thanks, Jax.” Her emotions largely under control now, Grace smiled at her sister. “I appreciate the offer, I really do. But since Tony’s here . . .”
Instinctively she glanced at him, and their gazes met across the table. He smiled at her, and she must have smiled back, and for longer than she realized, because when she looked at her sister again Jackie was shooting the pair of them covert glances, her eyes bright with rampant speculation.
“Okay. But if you need me, call,” Jackie said, smooth as silk. “I’ll come running with bells on.”
She and the kids left shortly afterward. Grace went upstairs to touch base with her daughter about the progress of her homework. Worry over the horoscopes tried to raise its ugly head, but Grace resolutely forced it back.
What she feared could not be true. She refused to stew over it any longer.
Like harmless shadows in the dark, shaped into ghosts by a fertile imagination, the specter was almost certain to be nothing more than a product of her own mind.
The dogs, Grace saw when Jessica opened the door in response to her knock, were once again lying on Jess’s bed. Both looked up as Grace came through the door. Both wagged their tails. Neither jumped to the ground.
“Jess . . .” Instead of talking homework, Grace realized that the time had come to mete out discipline over the latest sneaking-out incident. The trauma of Godzilla’s death was all that had saved Jessica so far, but the transgression had to be dealt with, shock and sorrow over the loss of the pet notwithstanding. “Jess, sit down. We need to talk about what you did Saturday night.”
Jessica groaned. “Mom, I’m right in the middle of Spanish. . ..”
Grace used her best I-mean-it voice. “Jessica. Sit. Now.”
Making a face, Jessica plopped down on the edge of the bed. The dogs raised their heads as the mattress bounced, and crawled over to lie, one on each side, next to Jessica. Looking at her mother all the while, Jessica absentmindedly played with their ears.
“Mom, I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
Standing in front of her daughter, arms crossed over her chest, Grace gave her a level look. “Saturday was the fourth time you’ve snuck out. That I know of.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were drinking alcohol. And, by your own admission, smoking pot.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Jessica, I’m sorry just doesn’t cut it in this case. If it was the first time it had happened, maybe. But not now.”
“What do you want me to say? I am sorry.”
Grace looked down at her reflectively. “Pretend I’m you, and you’re me. I’m the fifteen-year-old daughter who, even though grounded, was caught sneaking out in the middle of the night for the fourth time, and
I drank alcohol and admitted to smoking pot and making out with a boy. You’re the mother, remember. What would you do?”
Jessica looked up at her, wide-eyed.
“I’m really sorry, Mom,” Grace whined, in almost perfect imitation of Jessica. Then she reverted to her normal voice. “Now, what do you do?”
“Ground you for the rest of your life, I guess,” Jessica said glumly after a brief pause.
Grace pursed her lips. “Jess, you need to understand something. I am the mother, and you are the child. I will do what I have to do to keep you safe until you’re old enough to live on your own. I control the money. Clothes, CDs, movies, all the good stuff—I can cut you off from them just like that. You’ll be sixteen in March. I have to sign for your driver’s license. I can choose not to, you know. In other words, there are many options open to me other than, or in addition to, grounding you. I want to make that very clear.”
Jessica’s eyes were wide on her face. It was obvious that she had never considered the matter in that light before.
“Do you understand?”
Jessica nodded. Puppy nudged her thigh as though in silent sympathy, and Jessica patted the dog.
Grace sighed. “I love you. You know that. I don’t want to do any of those things. All I want is to keep you safe. I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?” Jessica looked and sounded both hopeful and wary.
“How would you like to keep that furry beast?” Jessica looked down at the dog beside her. “Puppy?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flew to Grace’s face. “You mean I can have Puppy for my own?”
“Under certain conditions. Number one, no sneaking out of the house ever again. If you want to go somewhere, you ask me, and if I say no, that’s the end of the matter. Number two, no alcohol. Number three, no pot, or any other illegal substance. If you promise to abide by those rules—and they are absolute—you can keep the dog. If you break any one of them, even once, the dog goes back to Tony.”
“Oh, Mom!” Jessica jumped off the bed and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mom, yes! I’ve wanted a dog so much—I’ll do anything!”
Grace hugged Jessica back, but she deliberately kept her voice stern. “We have a deal, right?”
“Yes!”
“Okay. As long as you stick to the deal, he . . . she—whatever it is—is yours.”
“Oh, Mom, thank you! And Puppy’s a boy.” Jessica was practically jumping up and down with excitement as she turned back toward the bed. Puppy and Kramer were sitting up now, looking toward Jessica in identical, head-cocked-to-one-side inquisitive mode. Jessica scooped Puppy up in her arms and swung back around.
“I’ll never sneak out again, or drink beer, or smoke pot, I promise. Oh, Mom, I thought you didn’t like dogs!”
“They’re starting to grow on me,” Grace said, watching as the small furry creature bathed Jessica’s chin with a moist tongue. Jessica bounced over to hug her again, and Puppy, also in on the hug, seized the opportunity to lick Grace’s cheek.
When Jessica released her, Grace wiped the damp spot away. The dog’s mouth was open. If she hadn’t known better, Grace would have sworn the animal was grinning at her.
“Finish your homework,” Grace said dryly, knowing it would be some time before Jessica settled down enough to comply. But still, as she left her daughter’s room, Grace felt good. That kind of positive discipline was easy to apply.
And she felt surprisingly confident it would work. A dog was something Jessica would value enough to change her behavior for.
She went downstairs and found Tony loading the dishwasher. Stopping short in the doorway, she watched.
“You’re pretty handy to have around, aren’t you?” she said after a moment. Her macho cop kept surprising her.
“With six boys and no girls, you think we didn’t learn how to keep house?” He grinned at her. “Want to know my guilty secret?”
“What?” Grace asked, picking up the dishrag to wipe down the counter and table.
“I can cook.”
“Oh, wow!” Grace widened her eyes in exaggerated delight. “Now you’ve found the way to my heart.”
“Have I?” His voice was husky as he pushed the buttons to turn on the dishwasher. Then he turned toward her. He was reaching for her, and she was coming into his arms, dishrag and all, when they heard Jessica bounding down the stairs.
Immediately they were six feet apart.
“Mom, Tony, I’ve thought of the perfect name!” Jessica said the instant she saw them. Both dogs were at her heels, and it was obvious she had no thoughts on any subject other than her recent acquisition. “Chewie! What do you think of that?”
“Chewie?” Grace said doubtfully, while Tony looked at her instead of Jessica and grinned.
“It’s short for Chewbacca! You know, from Star Wars!”
“Great name!” Tony said appreciatively, while Grace nodded.
“Sounds good. Chewie.”
“I’m going to take them out and start potty-training him. I didn’t want to tell you, Mom, but Chewie’s had a couple of accidents on the rug in my room.”
“Has he?” Grace shot Tony a darkling look. She hadn’t thought about the subject of accidents, but surely he had known his dog wasn’t house-trained.
Tony grinned, shrugged, and looked a bit sheepish. “I’ll come with you, Jess. He’ll be really easy to house-break. His mom was. But you’ll have to cut him a little slack for a while. He’s only ten weeks old.”
That remark, Grace felt, was directed at her. “As long as he gets housebroken.”
“He will!” Her daughter and Tony replied in chorus. They looked at each other, grinned, and headed out the back door in perfect harmony, with the dogs pattering at their heels.
Raising her eyes skyward as the door closed behind them, Grace mentally asked of heaven, what have I let myself in for? But she was smiling as she finished wiping down the counters, and she continued to smile as she headed down into the basement to put in a load of laundry.
And when the thought of the mysteriously circled horoscopes entered her head, she immediately drove it out again.
Chapter
39
GRACE WAS ON HER WAY OUT the kitchen door the next morning when she noticed it: a key stuck in a gooey pink blob of chewing gum, right in the middle of the door’s glass pane.
“Wait,” she said to Penick, who was in front of her. Jessica and Gloria Baer had just left for school. For a moment Grace simply stared numbly at the key. It was, she was almost certain, a key to her house, one of those that the new locks had rendered inoperable. Then she turned back and stuck her head in the kitchen.
“Tony,” she said in a small voice. He still sat at the table drinking coffee. As a protection officer, she had discovered, he didn’t sleep: he was on duty, and thus stayed awake all night, to watch over them. Consequently, he had been bleary-eyed at the breakfast table that morning.
He glanced up. One look at her must have told him something was up, because he got immediately to his feet. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt over jeans, with white athletic socks but no shoes on his feet. He needed a shave, and his black hair was tousled.
Even bleary-eyed, unshaven, and tousled, he was sexy.
“What?” he said, padding toward her. Penick was behind her now, frowning, looking mystified.
Grace stepped back out onto the walkway and waited for Tony to join her.
“Look,” she said, pointing.
He looked, and his face tightened.
“At least he couldn’t get in,” Grace said. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly very cold despite the sunny brightness of the morning and her new bone-colored wool suit. All the uneasiness she’d managed to suppress since arriving home the previous evening sprang to renewed life.
“Go on to work. I’ll take care of it,” Tony said in a clipped voice. He glanced at her then, and smiled. That smile was almost as intimate as a kiss. If it hadn’t be
en for Penick standing behind her, he would have kissed her, she knew. But he didn’t, and she felt the loss. “We’ll get him, don’t worry. In the meantime, you and Jessica are safe.”
“I know.” She smiled back at him, rather wanly. But as she followed Penick out to the car she felt dread, cold and suffocating, settle over her like a cloud.
The memory of the circled horoscope was heavy as a lead ball in her chest.
January 21st. She could not get the date, with all its implications, out of her mind.
Should she tell Tony? Or not?
The question troubled her so much that she had difficulty concentrating in court. It was Tuesday, and she had the usual run of cases: divorces, custody disputes, incidents of domestic violence, child abuse, juvenile delinquents. By eleven o’clock she was as tired as if she had worked a full day—and Colin Wilkerson was standing in front of her arguing on behalf of a mother trying to deny joint custody or even any visitation by her husband. He was not the biological father of the child in question, although he had married the mother when the child was six months old and raised it as his own. Now, after nine years of marriage and step-fatherhood, the mother wanted a divorce, and, further, wanted to deny her soon-to-be-ex-husband all future contact with the child.
“Legal precedent is clear,” Colin said, citing cases. “Mr. Harvey has no right to even see Lisa, much less sue for joint custody of her. The fact is, he is neither the child’s biological nor adoptive father, and thus has no standing in this case.”
Having already listened to Mr. Harvey’s side of the story and to the report of a court-appointed psychologist who had examined the child, Grace looked at Colin, who appeared coolly confident of the merit of his client’s legal position.
“The child’s name is Lisa Harvey, is it not?”
“She has gone by that name, yes. But Mrs. Harvey is planning to remarry, and at that time the child’s name will be altered to that of her new stepfather.”
Grace looked at Mrs. Harvey. A big-boned blonde of perhaps thirty, she was attractive in a bosomy, big-haired kind of way.
“So what Mrs. Harvey is basically proposing is that her child be raised by a succession of fathers?”
The Midnight Hour Page 27
