Nick All Night

by Cheryl St. John

  “You waited,” she said.

  “Good things are worth waiting for.”

  “Read that on a card somewhere?”

  “I think it was a poster in human growth and development class. Did you miss that one?”

  She took his hand and urged him to stand, leaning her body into his. “Really want to wait?”

  “Nope.” He followed her into the house.

  By midnight Ryanne was sleeping soundly, and Nick lay with her head on his shoulder, his body sated, his mind in overdrive. As usual. He didn’t want to disturb her by getting up and turning on the television or going out to the garage to work for a couple of hours. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bright idea.

  He was just about to slip his arm out from under her when his cell phone rang. She jumped and sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts.

  Nick reached toward the night stand and grabbed his phone. “Sinclair.”

  “Nick. It’s the Vincents.” It was Duane Quinn’s voice.

  “Did Ann Marie call in?”

  “Not this time. This time the kid called.”

  “Damn!” Nick stood and grabbed his boxers from the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on with one hand, then stood to finish the task.

  Ryanne turned on the light and blinked up at him.

  “How long ago?” Nick asked.

  “Just now. I called you, ’cause I know you can handle Eddie. Unless you want me to get this one.”

  “No, no, I’ll go. What the hell’s he doing at home, anyway? Shouldn’t he be working?”

  “Everybody gets a night off. Over.”

  Nick switched off the phone and grabbed a pair of uniform pants from a hanger.

  “What is it?” Ryanne asked.

  “I have to take a call,” he replied. “Sorry the phone woke you.”

  “No…that’s all right.”

  He jammed his shirttail into his pants, zipped them up and buckled on his automatic.

  “Is this a dangerous call, Nick?” she asked with a frown.

  “Not for me,” he replied. Ann Marie was the one in danger, but everything he said to the woman fell on deaf ears. “I’ll call if it’s going to take very long.”

  “Okay.” She stood and padded over to him. “What a way to wake up, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He kissed her, flipped the lock and backed out of the room, closing the door.

  Thank goodness for Ryanne; he wouldn’t have to wake his dad and let him know he was leaving. Backing out the cruiser, he headed for the Vincent place, dreading what he would find.

  The trip seemed to take forever in the dark. He had to go slower and search for landmarks, but finally he reached the gravel drive. The house was dark, with a solitary yellow bug bulb piercing the night from beside the front door. He’d always made these calls in the morning in the past, so a late visit seemed out of the ordinary—if one could ever say domestic abuse calls were ordinary.

  Nick approached the door, his straining ears hearing nothing, not even yelling or crying. The door was closed and locked when he tried the knob. He didn’t like it. He knocked firmly. “Ann Marie? Eddie?”

  A minute later, the door opened. A hollow-eyed boy stared out at him, sought to look around him into the darkness. “Sheriff Sinclair?”

  “Dylan, where’s your mom?”

  “In the bathroom. I locked us in there.”

  Dylan moved aside and Nick dashed past. Behind him, the boy closed and relocked the door. “Is your dad here?” Nick asked, still moving.

  “He left. I locked us in the bathroom and he went away.”

  With the aid of a dim night-light, Nick found the bathroom. Ann Marie’s darkened form slumped against the wall near the tub. Nick groped on the wall for a switch.

  “It’s here.” Dylan tugged a string and a light came on, revealing his mother in the harsh glare. Blood ran from a gash on her forehead, and she cradled her left arm against her midriff.

  The sight turned Nick’s stomach. Not quite his worst fear at coming here, but close to it. She was alive, and he released a breath. He plucked his phone from his belt and hit a speed dial number. “Duane. Send a paramedic.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “She’s conscious. The boy’s here. Stat.” He hung up and knelt down beside the woman. “Dylan, do you have any ice in the freezer?”

  “I think so.”

  “Why don’t you bring some in a plastic bag or a dish towel or something?”

  “Okay.”

  Nick reached up and grabbed a worn towel from a hook, ran cold water over it and held it to Ann Marie’s forehead.

  She cried softly, turning dark pleading eyes to him. “I know what you’re going to say,” she sobbed.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “You’re going to say you told me so.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m going to say it’s your responsibility to keep your son safe from this, and you haven’t done that. How much has he seen? How much are you going to make him see? You want him to grow up thinking this is normal?”

  She tried to shake her head, but Nick forced her to hold it still, while he wiped away blood. “No. No, of course not,” she said. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just thought…I never thought Eddie’d go this far…especially not in front of Dylan. He loves his son.”

  “You are the one who has to protect your son. And yourself. What would happen to Dylan if Eddie killed you?”

  Her eyes opened wide in shock. Nick’s words were meant to startle her into thinking, but he regretted hurting her. She grabbed his arm and lowered her head as she sobbed. “Nick. Nick, will you help me?”

  “I’ll help you,” he replied, anger and compassion warring inside. “You make the decision, and I’ll help you. Do you have any idea where Eddie has gone?”

  She shook her head.

  Dylan returned with a bread bag filled with ice cubes. Nick took the bag, wrapped another towel around it and placed it against Ann Marie’s arm. She cried out in pain, then bit her lip.

  “I think her arm’s broke,” the boy said to Nick.

  Nick looked at the arm and back at Dylan. “I think you’re right. The ice will keep the swelling down so they can set it.”

  Ann Marie studied her son with a ravaged expression in her eyes. “Dylan?”

  “Yes, Ma?”

  “We’re not going to stay here anymore. Your father needs help, and until he gets it, we’re going away.”

  At her words, Nick felt as though a band that had been constricting his chest broke loose.

  Dylan’s eyes were wide with uncertainty. “Where will we go?”

  “I don’t know right now. But we’ll be fine together, you and me.”

  “For tonight, you can come to my house,” Nick told him. “While your mom’s getting fixed up at the clinic.”

  Tears glistened in the boy’s eyes. “Okay.”

  Flashing lights and a short siren burst alerted them to the paramedics’ van outside. “Go open the door, Dylan,” Nick said.

  Dylan ran to obey.

  “I’m holding you to this decision,” Nick said to her.

  “You know I’m serious,” she replied. “I’ve never said it before, but I’m saying it now. And I mean it.”

  “I’m proud of you, Ann Marie.”

  Two paramedics ran down the hall, a man and a woman. “Her left arm is broken,” Nick told them. “The boy’s coming with me.”

  He phoned Duane again. “I’m taking Dylan Vincent to my place. Forward calls to Sharon’s and come out here and look for Eddie. I’ll join you after I get the kid settled.”

  Nick helped Dylan pack a change of clothing, then got him settled in the cruiser.

  “I’m glad school’s out for the summer,” Dylan said. “I’d hate to be in school tomorrow when everybody finds out we’re leavin’ my dad.”

  “Understand it’s for the best,” Nick told him. “Your dad will have to get help in order to have his family back.”

  “I know.”
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  At the house, Nick opened the sofa bed in the family room. While he was making it up, Ryanne came down the stairs in a shiny robe.

  “This is Dylan,” he told her. “He’s spending the night.”

  “Hi, Dylan.”

  “Dylan, this is Mrs. Davidson. She’s taking care of Jamie for me. She’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

  Ryanne offered Dylan something to eat and drink, then slipped back upstairs while Nick showed him the bathroom. Nick stood by while the boy climbed wearily into the bed. Even though he was several years older than Jamie, he seemed to need more reassurance. Not surprising, considering the things he’d seen in his home.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Nick told him.

  “Thanks, Sheriff.”

  “Nick,” he said softly. “Just call me Nick.”

  Ryanne was sitting in the easy chair beside the light when Nick entered the room. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  “Strange room. You weren’t here.” She set down a book.

  Nick explained about Dylan, and her eyes filled with compassion.

  “Sorry to saddle you with another kid,” he said.

  “Don’t apologize,” she replied. “Thank you for trusting me to help.”

  “I have to leave again, try to find the boy’s dad. Get some sleep.”

  “What about you? You’ll be exhausted.”

  He leaned over her and kissed her. “I’ll go in late in the morning.”

  She touched his face. “You’re a good man, Nick Sinclair.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He kissed her again and left.

  After a few awkward moments the following morning, Jaime and Dylan became fast friends, and Ryanne didn’t see them except when they were hungry or thirsty. Nick slept on and off until ten, woke with a headache and ate the breakfast Ryanne prepared for him.

  “Where’s dad?” Nick asked.

  “In the garden while there’s some shade this morning,” she told him. “He promised me zucchini bread this afternoon.”

  Nick nodded and took a sip of his coffee to swallow an aspirin.

  “Did you find the boy’s father last night? I was asleep when you came in.”

  “Yes. He’s in jail. Ann Marie’s going to press charges. And then she’ll be finding a place to stay.” Nick explained the ongoing situation and his frustration at not being able to do anything to help until Ann Marie was ready to make a change. “I kept thinking I was going to drive out there someday and find her dead. Eddie’s one mean drunk.”

  “Thank goodness she finally made the right choice,” Ryanne said.

  The back door burst open and Jamie led Dylan into the kitchen.

  “Whoa,” Nick called out.

  “We need more plastic bags, Dad!”

  Dylan’s greeting was a little more subdued. “Morning, Sheriff Sin—I mean—Nick.”

  “Good morning, boys. What do you need the bags for?”

  “Grampa is filling bags with zucchini. Me ’n’ Dylan put them on people’s doorknobs, then ring the bell and run. It’s fun.”

  Ryanne’s eyes showed her puzzlement, but Nick knew exactly the trick his dad was employing. He took a stash of plastic grocery bags from a cupboard and handed them to his son. “Zucchini multiplies like rabbits,” he told Ryanne with a grin. “You have to get rid of them somehow.”

  Jamie ran to Ryanne. “Will you come open your garage and show Dylan the Viper? Please?”

  Nick was about to suggest that they wait awhile when Ryanne replied, “Well, actually, Jamie, the Viper’s not in my garage.”

  “It ain’t? Where is it?”

  Nick didn’t even correct his grammar; like his son, he simply waited expectantly for a reply.

  “It’s, um, it’s over at Heartland Auto Deals. On the lot.”

  “What’s it over there for?” Jamie asked, echoing Nick’s thoughts.

  “I’m selling it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re selling it?” Nick asked, disbelief in his voice.

  “Why’re ya sellin’ it?” Jamie asked at the same time.

  Ryanne busied herself with placing plates in the dishwasher. “I didn’t really need such a fast car. I got to thinking it was probably a little too flashy.”

  “But you loved that car,” Nick said.

  “Loved is a little strong,” she denied. “It’s just a car. No big deal. I’ll get another one.”

  Her easy dismissal had a ring of untruth that disturbed Nick. “What are you driving now?”

  “Forrest gave me a loaner so the Viper could sit in his showroom.”

  “How do you expect to sell a car like that in Elmwood?” he asked.

  “He’s advertising it through the dealership. It’ll get exposure.”

  “You never said anything….” Nick let his words trail off and he gave a lame shrug.

  “I didn’t need to say anything, did I?” She seemed irritated with his comments. “It’s my car, isn’t it?”

  Uncomfortable with the turn of conversation, Nick stood and carried his cup to the sink. “Sure. Sorry.”

  “It’s just…not a big deal.”

  “Okay.” He turned aside. “You boys behave yourselves. Dylan, I might bring your mom back here this afternoon. I called and she’s checked out of the clinic, but she has some business to take care of.”

  “Where’s my dad?”

  Nick glanced at Jamie.

  “It’s okay,” Dylan said perceptively. “I told him.”

  “Your dad’s in jail. He’ll have to put up bond money to get out before his trial. Your mom’s pressing charges this time.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s very good. It means the court will make your dad get the help he needs.”

  Dylan nodded, and he and Jamie ran back outdoors.

  Nick grabbed his hat from the counter. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Ryanne stepped close to lift her face for his kiss. “Don’t worry. We’ll be just fine.”

  Nick kissed her, studied her lovely features for a moment, thinking he didn’t really know her, then turned to leave. The whole bit about selling the car just didn’t make sense. He knew she loved that car, and no amount of denial on her part made him think she didn’t. Something wasn’t right, but he sure couldn’t put his finger on it. If he didn’t know better…if she wasn’t a big shot West Coast advertising exec, he’d think she was strapped for cash.

  Nick buckled himself into the cruiser, cranked up the air-conditioning and headed for the station. Anyone who didn’t run air in this heat, especially when they were used to a dryer climate…

  Pictures of the boxes he’d seen in the Whitaker dining room that first night when he’d let himself into the house and surprised Ryanne flashed through his mind—jewelry cases, odds and ends, books and computer software. She’d brought her computer along. Her stereo. How many people took a stereo on vacation, unless it was a portable one?

  It had seemed then as if she’d brought enough with her to move in, but why would she be moving into her mother’s house when she’d always hated Elmwood? Maybe she was more devastated about her divorce than she’d let on. But that didn’t stack up—not with the way she had connected with Nick, the way she made love to him. Maybe he was just a rebound fling, but that didn’t seem right, either. At least he didn’t want to think so.

  He’d always felt that Ryanne was holding something back, and that was her prerogative. They hadn’t made any promises, no commitments. They both knew her time here was temporary. Her business was her own.

  But he certainly couldn’t help being curious.

  When Nick brought Ann Marie Vincent to the house that afternoon, Ryanne hardly recognized her as the vibrant girl who’d been a year or so behind her in school. Of course, the bruised and swollen face distorted her appearance, but her body language spoke volumes. Maybe it was pain; her arm was in a cast. Who knew what other uns
een injuries she’d suffered? But it was the way she didn’t quite meet Ryanne’s eyes that made the difference.

  “I heard you were in Elmwood,” Ann Marie said after Nick left for the station. “News travels fast around here.”

  Ryanne nodded. She offered Ann Marie a seat in the family room and brought a cushion for her arm to rest on. The fingers that protruded from the end of the cast were purplish and swollen. “Don’t I know it.”

  “I suppose I’m the talk of the town today.” Nervously, Ann Marie pushed her dark bangs away from her forehead.

  Ryanne couldn’t deny her words. She certainly felt like the object of gossip often enough herself, and she knew how unsettling it was.

  A few minutes later the boys burst into the house, their faces damp and flushed from exertion.

  “It’s really hot out there,” Jamie gasped, flopping on the carpet and spreading his arms.

  Dylan sat at his mom’s feet. She gave him a smile.

  “Why don’t you boys stay in and cool off for a while?” Ryanne suggested. “How about a video and some lemonade?”

  “Popcorn?” Jamie asked.

  “What’s a video without popcorn?”

  While the boys watched their show, the women got reacquainted. Sometimes, when she laughed, Ann Marie seemed like the person Ryanne had known briefly so long ago. She wondered if she herself had changed as much, and if any of the changes had been for the better.

  Nick arrived home, and they ate supper in the dining room—burgers and fried zucchini, along with sliced tomatoes and fresh corn. The boys ate corn on the cob until Nick swore it was coming out their ears.

  Nick took Ryanne aside later, pulling her down the hall.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Been dying to kiss me?”

  He kissed her. “Of course. But I have something to ask you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to ask Ann Marie to stay here for a few days—just until she gets on her feet, and gets used to the cast and the pain eases up. We have an extra bedroom, but I know the load of the extra work will fall to you, so I—”