He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was.”
“Did you…did you see them?”
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I saw.”
The next thing he knew, he was telling her about the uniform and the kid’s cleats. About the quart of milk that had fallen to the floor and spilled when the boy went down after taking three bullets to the chest.
“I played sports,” he said. “Man, I’d be thirsty when I walked in the door. Mom gave me hell for drinking straight from the carton. That’s what the kid was doing, you know. He must have had it in his hand when they kicked the front door in.”
He’d lived all week with this picture in his head of that boy, still skinny but with big feet, standing there in the kitchen guzzling milk and feeling pretty damn good about practice that afternoon. About some hits he’d made, maybe a few catches. Dreaming about college scouts even if that was unlikely. Turning when the door splintered open, caught middream when the bullets struck.
She was quiet for a minute. Jon started worrying again. He never talked about work. Not like this. Not to his mother and sister, not to any woman he’d ever been involved with before. Cops talked to other cops. Some to their wives, he guessed. He’d never had anyone outside the job, and he didn’t have anyone on it anymore. His last couple of promotions had put a strain on those friendships. He couldn’t risk telling anyone in the department that he’d been strutting like a damn rooster all week, conscious of admiring eyes.
Shit, he thought, understanding that he needed someone—just one person—to see him truly. Why her? He didn’t know, only that her complexities resonated with his. His body craved hers, but what he felt wasn’t nearly that simple. From her first glare, he’d wanted to know her. What she thought, what she felt. To earn her trust, he had to expose himself, one layer at a time, and hope she’d reciprocate.
“I was thinking,” she said, “about how much you’ve seen. Do you have nightmares?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Mostly not. I’ve gotten good at tucking away the stuff I see. I close a case, I file it. I keep that mental file cabinet locked. I know where the key is, but I don’t get it out too often.”
“I think you’re worrying about nothing, Jon. You’re human. That’s all. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“I shouldn’t have dumped on you,” he muttered.
“Why not?”
“We haven’t known each other that long.”
“To tell you the truth, I think I’m flattered.” Her voice held an odd note. “I like knowing you’d trust me.”
Jon realized that the shame knotted inside him had loosened. Lucy’s right. I did the best I could to support the investigating officers. To reassure the public. Maybe I had some selfish motives, too, but that’s natural.
You’re human.
“We aren’t on a date,” he said. “I cheated. I wasn’t entitled to tell you anything profound.”
Lucy laughed. No, she giggled. A funny, sweet little bubble of sound. “That’s okay. It just puts you one ahead of me.”
“I want to know you,” he said. “Let me know you, Lucy.”
This time the silence went on long enough to make him edgy.
“It’s…hard for me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “But I’ll try.”
Instinct told him this wasn’t the moment to push. He wanted to, but he was a better strategist than that. Lucy was like a wild creature, frightened but oh, so tempted to nibble from his hand. Patience, he told himself, although he had to know who had hurt her. Jon was shocked to realize how much he wanted to keep anyone from hurting her ever again.
He was getting in deep. Too deep, considering how little he knew about her.
“I’ll call tomorrow.” It took everything he had to sound relaxed. “I’m hoping we can all do something Sunday.”
“You don’t have to dedicate every weekend to us, you know.”
“I want to.” He hadn’t realized how much. He had spent all week aching to see Lucy. Wanting to talk to her. Thinking about Sierra, too, wondering whether she was still happy that she’d found him or whether in a way she was disappointed. She might have harbored fantasies that he would fill the entire hole in her life her mother’s death had left and now knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
As if reading his mind, Lucy said, “This has meant a lot to Sierra. Just don’t…disappoint her. Okay?”
What about Lucy? Was she already braced for him to disappoint her, too? He hoped not.
“I’ll try not to. That’s all I can promise.”
“Okay,” she said.
They said good-night. He hung up feeling as though he had heartburn. He popped open the beer and took a swallow to relieve it. He often felt that way after seeing Lucy, talking to her. She got to him. He didn’t yet know whether this thing with her was going anywhere serious, but it felt as if it might. The timing stank, but… she’d given him some balance tonight when he’d been unsteady, and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had offered him that much.
Still gazing at the blank TV, Jon wished he knew why Lucy held back so much of herself. Whether she had secrets that would turn out to matter. It made him uneasy that he even had to ask himself. He wasn’t in a position to trust readily, though.
So why had he picked a woman so reluctant to talk about her past? One who, clearly, was reluctant in her own way to trust?
Because they fit. Or at least, he thought they fit. Not an explanation he’d have voiced aloud, but the best he could do right now.
He finished the beer, but never did turn on the ball game.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“How did the first day go?” Lucy asked as she spooned rice onto her plate. Labor Day weekend had come and gone, which meant Sierra had started school. She’d been holed up in her bedroom when Lucy got home, and this was the first chance they’d had to talk.
Sierra, who had already dished up, watched as Lucy added stir-fry to her plate. “I wish I already had my license.”
Startled, Lucy looked up. “Really? You haven’t said anything.”
Sierra rarely did the typical teenage sullen thing, but for once she was looking sulky. Her shoulders jerked. “Why would I? I can’t afford a car anyway.”
Lucy blinked. “Sierra, we’ve never even talked about this.”
“And you probably wouldn’t let me drive anywhere even if I had a car.”
“Okay, stop this right there. I’ve offered you every opportunity to drive when we’re out, and most of the time you didn’t want to. Don’t blame me because you don’t have a driver’s license yet.”
Sierra’s hair shielded her face as she poked at her dinner. She had redyed her hair in preparation for the start of school. It was still blue, an even more vivid hue if that was possible.
When her foster daughter didn’t say anything, Lucy prodded more gently, “What brought this on?”
“Some of my friends are doing Running Start,” she finally mumbled.
Lucy knew vaguely about the program, which allowed high-school juniors and seniors in Washington State to take classes at the community college free of charge. Most substituted one or two college classes each semester for those at their high school, but in theory a student could complete requirements for a high-school diploma and an associate of arts degree at the college simultaneously, saving their parents a bundle on college tuition. Sierra had never mentioned Running Start before.
“Who?” Lucy asked, not surprised that Sierra’s circle of friends would be the ones doing Running Start.
“Ava.” Sierra’s best friend. “And Kiernan and Emily. Some others, too, but Emily is going full-time. I knew she was, but… It was weird, not having her there today. And Ava left after lunch. They were both really excited about it. And Chad. He made a big deal to everyone about how he was too smart for high-school math.”
Sierra was too smart for high-school math, too. Lucy knew she was. She’d been worrying about this, afraid Sierra would get bo
red. Running Start would have been perfect for her, but it was true there was no way Lucy could chauffeur her. The community college was in Willis, a twenty-minute drive each way.
“I suppose your friends are all driving themselves,” she said thoughtfully. Even if she’d been willing to let Sierra ride with one of them, state law didn’t allow new teenage drivers to have other minors as passengers.
Sierra rolled her eyes. “Like, duh. Mommy doesn’t usually drive her kid to college.”
“Don’t be snotty,” Lucy snapped. “It’s not my fault you weren’t motivated to get your license.” The minute the words were out, she felt mean. They both knew that Sierra’s reluctance was rooted in her mother’s death in a traffic accident. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “But I don’t understand why you’re mad at me.”
Sierra shot to her feet. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just mad, okay? Forget it! I don’t even know why I said anything.” She grabbed her plate and stomped to the sink. After scraping her nearly untouched meal into the garbage, she rinsed off the plate and put it in the dishwasher, then started out of the kitchen. In the doorway, her back to Lucy, she stopped and said, “Why can’t things ever stay the same?” She didn’t wait for an answer. The quiet click of her bedroom door closing came a moment later.
Lucy thought her heart might break.
She looked at her own plate. She should have lost her appetite after the sad little scene, but of course she hadn’t. Rather gloomily, she reflected on the fact that nothing dented her appetite. After a minute she picked up her fork and resumed eating.
Maybe, she finally decided, Sierra’s outburst was a healthy sign. So far she’d been unnaturally well-behaved for a teenager. She had been cheerfully willing to do chores and to accommodate Lucy’s schedule, Lucy’s choice of TV programs, Lucy’s menu. They hadn’t had one single argument, unless you counted their skirmish over Sierra’s surprise announcement that she’d tracked down her biological father via the internet and intended to introduce herself in person. And Lucy couldn’t, in all honesty, count that, since Sierra had been hopeful rather than confrontational. It really wasn’t normal for a kid her age not to take out some of her roiling emotions on her parent. So maybe this meant she was finally trusting that, in every way that mattered, Lucy was a parent. That she wouldn’t ditch Sierra if she wasn’t 100 percent, unfailingly perfect.
Great theory. But maybe she really was upset about something else altogether, and the driver’s license and Running Start and her friends’ defection didn’t have anything to do with her sulky mood tonight.
Lucy sighed and opened the freezer door to stare at the carton of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream. She could have a small helping….
No. She slammed the door shut. If she was strong, it wouldn’t take that long to lose five pounds. Just in case kissing Jon led to more. Given how irresistible his kisses were.
Last week they’d had lunch together twice. Once he’d brought take-out sandwiches and soup again, once a pizza. The second time he’d caught her at a particularly busy time, and he’d willingly hauled bags of food and litter to customers’ cars, snatching bites in between. He hadn’t seemed disgruntled at all when he kissed her goodbye before going.
He’d taken her and Sierra on a hike to a waterfall, and Lucy to dinner one night. The good-night kiss had been even more shattering than the last one. Her whole body tingled when she remembered. His mouth had both coaxed and devoured hers. He’d held her head so that he could angle it to please him. And one big hand had weighed and kneaded her breast, which had her hips pushing against his. If Sierra hadn’t been on the other side of the door, Lucy wasn’t sure either of them could have stopped.
They were supposed to go out again this Friday night. Lucy kept watching Sierra for signs that she was starting to resent the time he spent with her. So far, Sierra didn’t seem to. She seemed…content with the time and attention he was giving her.
But that contentment didn’t mean Lucy could ignore this recent outburst. With another sigh, Lucy went down the hall and knocked on Sierra’s door.
“Come in.”
Despite Lucy’s encouragement to decorate the room to suit herself, Sierra hadn’t done anything but hang some posters and placards. She sat now on the bed, her back against a heap of pillows, her computer on yet another pillow on her lap. Music spilled from it. Lucy didn’t recognize the band—Sierra was into alternative rock.
“Hey.”
Sierra grimaced. “I was bitchy. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s okay.” Lucy sat at the foot of the bed. “I can see why you felt…left behind.”
“Yeah.” Sierra grabbed a lock of hair and tugged on it, brushing the ends against her cheek. “We were, like, a unit, you know? I knew they’d all signed up for Running Start, but somehow I didn’t think about the fact that meant they wouldn’t be at school with me.”
Lucy wondered if they should talk about what Sierra had said at the end, instead of about Running Start. None of this was really at the heart of her grief.
But maybe that wasn’t true. The fact that her friends had moved on without her had put a crack in the sense of security she’d been trying so hard to build. And typical teenage preoccupations like getting a driver’s license and friends could maybe, somehow, be controlled. Whereas nothing would bring her mother back.
“You must have friends who aren’t doing Running Start.”
Sierra lifted one shoulder unhappily. “Oh…sure. Chris and Abby and Rachel.”
She didn’t have to tell Lucy those weren’t her best friends. On a sigh, Lucy said, “Once you have your license, I don’t see why you can’t join the Running Start program spring quarter.”
Sierra mumbled, “There’s no way I can save enough money to buy a car. And I know you can’t drive me. That’s why I didn’t say anything about it in the first place.”
“By the time you get your license, we’ll manage a car. I promise.” She smiled. “It’ll probably be a clunker, but we’ll find something.”
Sierra’s face brightened. “Really? You mean that?” Her voice sounded choked, as though she was struggling with emotion.
“Of course I mean it.”
“I thought about asking, um, my dad. But…”
“It feels too soon, doesn’t it? Although I’m betting he’ll be glad to help. And maybe we can ask him to take you shopping for it. I don’t know anything about cars. I’d hate to end up with a piece of junk.”
“Nobody would dare sell a crap car to the sheriff,” Sierra said with satisfaction.
Lucy had to laugh. “I suspect you’re right. We’ll definitely get him involved. In the meantime, why don’t you find out more about Running Start? Do they have info sessions for parents?”
“Yeah. I didn’t say anything because I knew I couldn’t do it anyway.”
“You can. Once you finish driver’s ed and get your license.”
“Okay.” Sierra tumbled forward, knocking her laptop askew, and gave Lucy a hug. “Thank you.”
Lucy’s eyes prickled as she returned the hug. It was foolish and probably dangerous to her well-being to let herself love a kid who was only temporarily hers, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“About what you said about why things have to keep changing—”
“They just do.” Sierra sniffed, then pulled back. “I know that.”
“Well… There’s something I need to tell you.” Lucy rubbed her hands on her thighs as she battled a rising case of nerves.
I don’t have to do this yet. I could put it off.
But if they were really family, then Sierra needed to know about the decisions Lucy made that would affect her.
Sierra closed her laptop and set it aside, then sat cross-legged, her gaze inquiring. “What?”
“I haven’t talked much about my mother.”
“I figured you didn’t like her.”
“No, it’s not that.” What a thought. Would it be possible to like the woman her mother could be i
f she stayed straight? “It’s…” She hesitated. “She’s in prison. Over at Purdy.” The Washington Corrections Center for Women, commonly known as Purdy, was in Gig Harbor, on the other side of Puget Sound. Very aware that Sierra was now gaping, Lucy continued, “She’s been in there for eight years now. For armed robbery this time.”
Sierra’s eyes were saucer round. “This time?”
“She’s been in and out of prison or alcohol and drug treatment programs my whole life. The thing is, she’s about to get out.”
“Oh, wow.”
“I think she’s going to move here, to Kanaskat. To be near me. And so I can, sort of, be her sponsor. Help her get a job. Things like that.”
“Is she going to be staying here with us?” Sierra’s expression changed. “Do you need this room for her? I guess you probably do. I could see if Ava’s mom would let me live with them.”
“Don’t be silly.” Lucy squeezed her knee. “I told you, this is your home as long as you need me. No, Mom won’t be living with us. I’m actually relieved that I don’t have room.”
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