Standing in the Shadows

by Shannon McKenna

  Sean let Connor drop from his tiptoes down onto his feet. His shoulders slumped. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry,” he warned.

  Connor rubbed his sore neck. “Too bad. I forgive you anyway. Snot-nosed punk.”

  “You provoked me. Talking like you don’t care if they lock you up. Fuck you, Con. Maybe you don’t care, but I do.”

  “I won’t say it again,” Connor said quietly. He retrieved the waterfall drawing, and picked shards of glass out of the frame. “I promise.”

  “I’m not just acting out to get attention, like the old days. I’m dead serious. You, in a cage? Not an option. No way. You get my drift?”

  “Sean, you can’t talk like that. This isn’t the Wild West—”

  “Davy’s going to feel the same way,” Sean said. “Davy makes like he’s Mr. Cool, but he’d slit the throat of anybody who hurt you. Without even blinking. So would Seth, for that matter.”

  Connor laid the picture down. “You’re scaring me, Sean.”

  “I’m just telling you how it is. It’s not just you alone on your white horse riding into the sunset, asshole. You get hurt, we get hurt. Got it?”

  Connor nodded obediently and dropped into the chair. His knees were trembling. “Uh, you want a shot of whiskey? It’ll mellow you out.”

  Sean frowned. “Things are too weird right now,” he said. “We need to sharpen up, not chill out. I want coffee. You could use some, too, from the looks of you. And a shower, and a fresh shirt. You have a girlfriend now. You’ve got to make more of an effort.”

  The look on Connor’s face made Sean freeze as he reached up for the coffeepot. His face tightened. “Oh, no. What’s up with Erin?”

  “Nothing,” Connor muttered.

  “What kind of nothing?” Sean persisted.

  The memory of last night replayed in his mind in one cold, hard, sickening whoosh, like a punch to the gut.

  “The bad kind,” he admitted. “The worst kind.”

  Sean grabbed the coffeepot. “That sucks,” he said grimly. “We’re in for it now. What happened?”

  Connor suppressed a sharp retort. Sean was on edge today, and he didn’t have the energy to cope with another outburst. “Nick told her I was nuts. He told her I was a murder suspect. And she doesn’t appreciate getting dragged into what she sees as a wacko paranoid fantasy. Christ, who could blame her. She’s got enough problems.”

  Sean measured coffee into the espresso pot. He flipped on the gas and turned his hard gaze onto his brother. “So? That’s it? End of story?”

  Talking about it left a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. “She told me to get lost, Sean. She thinks I’m mentally unbalanced.”

  “And that means you’re going to give up? Just like that?”

  Connor looked at him, and threw up his hands in silent eloquence.

  Sean paced restlessly around the kitchen. “You know what, Con? I remember the night you first met that girl.”

  Connor knew his brother too well not to mistrust that light, casual tone. “Do you, now?” he said warily.

  “I sure do. It wasn’t long after you got recruited into the undercover unit. Back when you were still starry-eyed and heavy into the mystique of your new job. A year or so after Kevin was killed. Davy was just about to ship out for Desert Storm.”

  “Your memory is freaky,” Connor commented.

  “Yeah, just like yours, except that yours is selective. Let me finish my story. So you come back from dinner at Ed’s house one night, all bug-eyed and quiet. And when I ragged you to find out what was up, you said, hey, leave me alone. It’s a big day. I just met my future bride.”

  Connor went cold. “I said that?”

  “Yeah, you said that,” Sean said. “It knocked me on my ass. You said, Ed Riggs’s daughter is so pretty, I can’t even believe the stupid shit I said. Probably Riggs’s wife thinks I’m a retard. Only problem is, she’s seventeen years old.”

  “You’re making this up,” Connor said.

  “Cross my heart,” Sean said. “This scene is engraved in stone in my memory. So I say to you, You filthy perv. That’s going to go over real good at your new job, lusting after your colleague’s teenage daughter. And you know what you said to me?”

  Connor braced himself. “What did I say?”

  “You said, No problem, man. I’ll wait for her.” Sean glared at him.

  “I said that?” Connor said numbly.

  “Yeah! You said that! And I thought you were joking! But you weren’t! You fucking weren’t joking!”

  The coffeepot began to gurgle and hiss, but Sean was locked in his indignant pose. Connor reached past him and shut off the gas. “Don’t blow this all out of proportion,” he muttered. “It’s not like I kept myself pure for ten years, for God’s sake.”

  “Oh, yes, you did.” Sean put a sharp, vicious emphasis on every word. “Sure, you fucked some other women now and then, but that’s as far as it went. Am I right? Answer me, goddamn it!”

  Connor thought about all the times he’d gently broken things off whenever the woman he was seeing started talking about the future.

  Ouch. Not much point in denying it. “Calm down, Sean,” he said. “I don’t have the energy for another big scene right now.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down! Don’t tell me that you’ve dreamed about this girl for a decade, you save her from a fate worse than death, you survive her conniving asshole of a father, you rescue her sister from the Fuckhead, you win over the homicidal mother-in-law, you finagle your way into her bed, and you’re giving up now?”

  “She thinks I’m nuts, Sean!” Connor yelled.

  “So convince her that you’re not!” Sean bellowed back. “You are never going to be happy if you let this go, and I hate it! I can’t stand to watch you waste away again!”

  Their furious gazes locked. Connor was the first to look away. “I’ve got to make sure I’m not crazy for real before I get near her again,” he said heavily. “I’ve created enough chaos in her life. I don’t want to pile something like that on her shoulders, too. That would be cruel.”

  Sean’s mouth tightened. He poured the coffee and handed Connor a cup. “Weren’t you with Erin when Vega got whacked?”

  “No. I was with her until around five A.M. Then I sneaked outside.”

  “Why the hell did you do that?” Sean demanded.

  “I was afraid of her mother,” Connor admitted. “You saw that Jag. Can you blame me? I came back in around eight for breakfast.”

  Sean stared out the window, scowling. “Can’t she just say you were with her? What does it matter, if you’re innocent anyway?”

  “I’m sure she would, if I asked her to,” Connor said softly. “But it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want anything with her that’s built on lies.”

  Sean slammed his cup down onto the counter. Scalding coffee splashed over his hand. He lunged for the sink and ran cold water over it. “Built on lies, my ass! Brainless, self-righteous idiot!”

  Connor winced and covered his ears. “Please don’t break anything else,” he pleaded. “My head hurts. I can’t stand the noise.”

  “You’ve got to shake this thing off of you, goddamnit! And you’ve got to get that girl, too. And do you know why?”

  Connor sank back into his chair, resigned. Evidently today’s histrionics weren’t over yet. “OK. Tell me why, Sean.”

  “Because you deserve it. You’re a righteous dude. You’re like…noble or something. With your code of honor. Your marching orders. That’s why Davy and I tease you about the hero complex. It’s a soft spot that can’t be shielded. It leaves you wide open.”

  Connor sighed. “That is such a crock—”

  “You’re a good guy, Con,” Sean trampled over his protests. “More so than Davy or me. More than anyone I know, except for maybe Jesse, and look what happened to him. You can’t bend, you can’t cut bait and run. You can’t compromise. It’s like, you don’t even know how.”

  Connor stared down into his
coffee and tried not to think about Jesse. He felt bad enough already. “Dad was like that,” he pointed out. “He didn’t know how to bend. So he broke.”

  Silence fell. The dour ghost of Eamon’s memory weighed upon them. Eamon had been a good and honorable man, but he had been profoundly disillusioned by the violent insults that life had dealt him. Grief and anger had chipped away at his sanity until it was totally gone.

  “You’re not like Dad, Con.” Sean’s voice vibrated with suppressed emotion. “You’re stronger than Dad was. And you’re kinder, too.”

  Connor took a gulp of his coffee and groped around for a change of subject. The coffee itself was always a handy culprit. “Christ, Sean, how did you make this stuff so strong? It’s corroding my gut.”

  “That’s the scotch, bozo, not my coffee. Let’s coat it with some food,” Sean said. “Go shower while I make you some lunch.”

  “Don’t coddle me,” Connor snapped. “I can take care of my—”

  “Take a shower, and put on one of my shirts. None of your limp, faded crap. You want the world to think you’re sane and well-balanced? Start by shaving and combing your hair.”

  When Connor came back down to the kitchen, he was freshly shaven and dressed in a crisp denim shirt he’d found in Sean’s closet. His brother ran a critical eye over him, and nodded. “You’ll do.”

  Connor grunted and sat down. They honored a tacit agreement not to tear open any more raw, unspeakable topics, and since there was nothing to talk about except madness, murder, love, heartbreak, and God only knew what else, they concentrated on chewing and swallowing Sean’s grilled ham and cheese sandwiches in silence.

  Sean shrugged on his leather jacket afterwards. “I cooked, so you do the dishes,” he announced. “I’m going to go track down Davy. We have to start turning over some rocks about that murder rap.”

  “Stay out of it,” Connor snapped, as he followed him out to the car.

  Sean dug for his keys. “Yeah, sure. As if. You should find Erin, now that you’ve shaved. Talk to her. Lay on that old McCloud charm.”

  “Charm, my ass. I sprout hair on the back of my hands whenever I get near her. Besides, she’s busy with the filthy rich art fiend who wants to drape her in jewels and take her to Paris.”

  Sean’s jaw sagged in dismay. “What? And you just let her go? Where do you keep your brains, Con? In a box under your bed?”

  “She wouldn’t let me go with her,” Connor snarled. “Get it through your thick skull! She doesn’t want me, so I can’t follow her around. It’s against the rules. It’s called stalking. Crazy guys stalk women. I’m making a big effort not to act crazy right now. Do you follow me?”

  Sean looked pained. “Yeah, but letting her go see a guy who’s waving tickets to Paris? Jesus, Con. That calls for desperate measures.”

  “Don’t get me started,” he growled. “I’ve been going over it all night. At least she’s not alone, for all the good that does. Tonia would probably cheer Mueller on. Hell, she’d probably propose a threesome.”

  “Tonia Vasquez, you mean? Erin’s bodacious nurse friend?”

  Connor stared at him, startled. “How do you know about Tonia the bodacious nurse? I never told you about her.”

  “I met her this morning when I dropped off Miles. She was talking to Erin’s mom. Beautiful tits. I recognized her, you know.”

  “From where?”

  “From the clinic.” Sean gave him a funny look, as if it should be obvious. “She was a nurse there when you were in your coma. You know I never forget a face. Or a chest, for that matter.”

  “The clinic? Tonia worked at the clinic?” The net started to widen in Connor’s mind, scooping up shifting, darting thoughts. Sifting and sorting, searching for patterns.

  Sean’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the look on his brother’s face. “Hold everything. What’s going on? What’s with that look, bro?”

  “Erin met her about a year ago,” Connor said slowly. “What a coincidence, huh?”

  “Uh…wait a sec. Are we still freaked out about Novak? Didn’t you tell me Luksch is in Europe, and Novak got blown sky-high yesterday? Have we turned that page, or what?”

  “Don’t start with me, Sean.”

  “I’m not!” Sean protested. “Just help me out here! I need to know where we stand before I can figure out what to do.”

  “I know that, goddamn it!” Connor exploded. “That’s been my problem from the start! I don’t know where I stand! I don’t know what’s real anymore! I can’t trust my eyes, my ears, my instincts, nothing!”

  “OK. I had my tantrum, and you’re entitled to yours,” Sean soothed. “I’m going to talk to Davy and Seth. You just sit tight. Try not to think. You always fuck up when you think too much. If you see any apparitions from beyond the grave, call me. And stay out of trouble.”

  Connor tried to laugh. “That’s my line. To you.”

  Sean got into his Jeep and rolled down the window. “Yeah. It’s weird to be the one to say it to you for a change. Later, bro.”

  He watched the Jeep leap down the rutted driveway. The bit of data that Sean had dropped so casually echoed through his head.

  Hell of a coincidence, that a nurse who worked at the clinic while he was in his coma should strike up a bosom friendship with Erin. There was no connection that made sense. No one had any reason to know a year ago how interested he was in Erin Riggs. Her mother had guessed it, his brothers had known it. No one else.

  His skin prickled. He felt it happening. Marching orders taking form inside his mind from an authority he couldn’t gainsay. He was going back to the clinic, to find out more about this Tonia. Now.

  He was Crazy Eamon’s boy, flesh and blood and bone. If this meant he was nuts, so be it. It would drive him even more crazy to resist that inner force. He couldn’t go against his own nature.

  He ran into the house. He was trembling with wild energy. He strapped on his ankle holster with the .22, stuck the SIG-Sauer into his pants. He threw on his coat and bolted for the car.

  He was going to catch hell for not washing the lunch dishes. It was a cardinal rule to leave the kitchen clean, but this was a special case. The Cadillac wallowed and fishtailed in the gravel. It finally leaped into action, bouncing heavily over the ruts.

  He was diving headfirst straight back into his paranoid fantasy, and anybody who didn’t like it could go fuck himself.

  Chapter

  24

  “I cannot believe it,” Tonia scolded. “I simply cannot believe you are dressed like that to go to Mueller’s house. You’re as white as a ghost, and even if you weren’t, that washed-out gray is all wrong for you. And your hair. Save me. The scraped-back peeled-onion look is too severe for your face. What is wrong with you?”

  Erin stared down at her lap, too tired to react. “Don’t bug me, Tonia. I had a really bad night. I don’t want to look pretty. I was shooting for respectable when I got dressed. That’s all I ask of myself.”

  “You should have called me! I would have come over and done an emergency salvage job,” Tonia fussed. “Nothing raises the spirits better than a quickie makeover, chica. Some magic eye gel, some cover-up, some foundation, a little blush—”

  “I’m not interested in Mueller. I don’t want him to be interested in me. There is no reason for me to make a fuss over my looks today.”

  Tonia shot her a cold glance. “Well! Excuse me.”

  “Sorry,” Erin said miserably. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “What’s happening with your boyfriend?” Tonia demanded. “Is he the reason you’re so pissy?”

  Erin’s jaw began to shake. “I think it’s over.”

  “Who dumped who?”

  Tonia’s harsh choice of words made Erin flinch. “I think…I think that I dumped him.”

  “You think?” Tonia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re not sure?”

  Erin pressed her mouth against her hand. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Oh. That bad, h
uh? Frankly, I’m relieved. The guy was way, way too intense for my tastes. I mean, the first time I met him he was holding a gun on me, for God’s sake.”

  “Maybe so.” She dashed away stray tears and thanked heaven she’d done without mascara. “But let’s have this conversation some other time. Like, six months to a year from now might be better.”

  Tonia sniffed. “God, you’re sensitive. So what’s wrong with Mueller? Is he repulsive or something?”

  Erin held her eyes wide open, hoping they would dry out. “Not at all,” she said dully. “He’s pleasant. Nice looking, intelligent, cultured. There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing that I can put my finger on.”

  “He’s just not Connor McCloud. That’s his only flaw, right?”

  Erin closed her eyes. “Tonia. Please. Could you just this once give me a break? I’m begging you. On my knees.”

  “I’m not saying this to bug you!” Tonia protested. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this! Mueller is such a big break for you, Erin. It drives me crazy that you’re not taking advantage of—”

  “I don’t care about Mueller!” Erin yelled. “I don’t give a damn about his collection, or his donation, or the museum! I could give a shit! About any of it! It’s all just a stupid, meaningless game!”

  “Ah. Well. Excuse me for caring,” Tonia said. Her voice was clipped and chilly. “If you feel this way, why are we going to Mueller’s house at all? I do have other things to do with my time, you know.”

  Erin dragged a Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. “Because I said I would.” Her voice was flat and colorless. “And no other reason. I’ve got nothing else left to steer by. Everything’s breaking down, falling apart. All I’ve got left is my word. So I’ll by God keep it.”

  Tonia snorted. “Oh, spare me the melodrama, please.”