“That was why I couldn’t find it. It must have fallen behind him, toward the cars,” Mike said, his voice gaining confidence. “Someone had to have cut in between me and Alejandro right when he bent down to get the gun. Otherwise I would’ve seen him.”
Mike was very still. He squeezed his eyes shut, something he only did when he was concentrating intently.
“But something still doesn’t add up,” he said. “Jose was a good kid. Everyone said so. He’d never been in any real trouble before. People don’t just turn on a dime like that. So why’d he have a gun? Why’d he aim it at Jay? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Jamie reached a hand toward Mike’s leg, then withdrew it without touching him.
“I gotta figure this out,” Mike said. “There’s another piece I’m not seeing yet.” He opened his eyes.
“You will,” Jamie said. “But Mike, we’ve got to tell the kids!”
She still felt numb, but she leapt to her feet. “And your parents!”
“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t move.
“They’ll have to drop the charges!” she cried.
Why was Mike just sitting there?
She knelt down so they were face-to-face. “I know this has been horrible for you. We haven’t even really had any time to think about what you had to do. But I want to help. We can get through this.”
“Yeah,” Mike said again, leaning back. Away from her. “I just wish . . .”
“What is it?” she asked. She reached for his hand, but his fingers didn’t close around hers.
Fear clamped her body like a vise. It wasn’t over, not yet, she thought.
“I wish you’d believed me,” Mike said, and he dropped his hand from hers.
The knowledge of what she’d done slammed into her. “I’m sorry— I was just trying to help!” she cried. “I was scared!”
He didn’t respond.
“Mike, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t even focused on if there was a gun or not, I was just trying to protect us!” she continued. “To save our family!”
Why hadn’t she believed him? She thought back to right after the shooting, when Mike had come up their front walk, his head low, his gun missing from its holster. He’d gripped her shoulders and looked at her intently. I swear to you, he’d said. I saw it, Jamie.
And she’d responded: It was raining! It was hard to see! Anyone could’ve made that mistake!
“It made me doubt myself,” Mike was saying. “When you didn’t even pretend to believe me. You’re the person who knows me best, so if you thought I really did it . . . that was the worst part. Wondering if I’d killed a boy for no reason.”
“You have to understand,” she said, her voice frantic and choppy. “It was like J.H. said, it was about what the jury would believe! And it was raining, and you were so stressed, and— Mike, I’m not saying this well, but don’t you see that I couldn’t even think that much about what actually happened?”
“But it meant everything,” Mike said. His dark eyes were wet. “I see Jose on the pavement everywhere I look. I dream about him all the time. And I began to think it was all my fault again. Just like with Ritchie.”
“Oh, Mike, no, it wasn’t your fault! Neither of them,” Jamie said. She was crying hard now. “I was just— Mike, I was so afraid for you, for our family . . .”
Her voice trailed off as he stood up, leaving her kneeling on the floor. “I should call my parents, like you said. And J.H. But Henry first.”
“Do you want to do it from here?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll go meet Lou and the kids at the park. I can phone everyone on my cell there.”
“Mike, I know you’re still so angry with me,” she said. She tried to catch her breath, to find the words to make him understand. “You deserve to be angry with me! But I did what I had to. Can you try to see that? It wasn’t just me—J.H. talked about PTSD, and—”
Mike cut her off. “Christie believed me,” he said.
Jamie went still. “I was wrong, Mike,” she said.
He nodded, just one quick up-and-down movement of his head. Then his phone rang again, and this time he looked at it. “Henry,” he said.
He answered and began walking away as he talked to his son. “I know,” Jamie could hear him saying. “Me, too. Yeah, I’ll come get you right now. I want to see you, too . . .”
Mike left without even saying good-bye. Without looking back at her.
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
A PUFFY WHITE CLOUD drifted in front of the sun, providing temporary relief from the relentless heat. Dozens of parents and siblings packed the bleachers of a local community center for the final game in the summer youth league baseball tournament, but it was so quiet that Christie could hear a breeze rustling the leaves of the tree behind her.
Her eyes were fixed on Henry, who was leading off second base. In the bottom of the final inning, the game was tied six-all, with one out.
Henry was in position to score, and his team’s other best player was up at bat. “He’s got this,” Christie announced to no one in particular, then began gnawing her thumbnail.
The pitcher wound up and let the ball fly. At the crack of the bat, Christie jumped to her feet, screaming, “Go, Henry!” Next to her Jamie and Lou leapt up, too.
Henry sprinted toward third base as the ball hung in the sky, then it began arcing down as two outfielders ran to make the catch. But Henry’s teammate had hit it into the sweet spot, the no-man’s-land between first and second base, and the ball bounced against the turf before being scooped up by one of the opposing team’s players.
Henry rounded third hard, never hesitating as he headed for home plate.
“Gogogogogo!” Christie shrieked.
“The play’s at home! The play’s at home!” the opposing team’s coach bellowed, his voice soaring over the noise of the crowd.
The ball smacked into the glove of the cutoff man, who pivoted and hurled it toward the catcher. Henry’s arms were pumping, and his feet kicked up puffs of brown dirt with every step. He ran so fast the batting helmet flew off his head and bounced behind him. But the ball was faster.
Just after it slammed into the catcher’s mitt, Henry threw his head and shoulders backward, sliding in feetfirst.
“He made it under the catch, didn’t he?” Jamie asked, grabbing Christie’s arm. “The ball didn’t touch him, right?”
“Of course it didn’t!” Christie said, although she wasn’t sure.
The umpire extended his arms straight out, and half of the people in the stands erupted in applause. Lou reached over and stung Christie’s palm with a high five.
“Did Henry win?” Eloise asked. She was eating a snow cone and her lips were the color of blueberries.
“He sure did,” Jamie said. “Him and the rest of his team. Aren’t you proud of your big brother?”
Christie squinted and caught sight of Mike running toward Henry, pumping his fists over his head. Even though he’d never played baseball, Mike had signed up as an assistant coach for the summer league, saying he wanted to spend more time with Henry.
Christie had been with Henry at the time of Ms. Torres’s second press conference. She’d been getting ready to take him out for breakfast when Henry had pounded on the door of her bathroom, yelling for her to come quick. She’d stood there with him, her hair damp on her shoulders and mascara coating only her right lashes, staring at the television screen while everything changed.
Immediately after that Mike had picked Henry up, but this time, he hadn’t come upstairs. Instead, Henry had waited outside the apartment building, eager to see his father the moment he arrived. Christie had thought about going downstairs to wait with him, but in the end, she’d thought Henry deserved to be alone with Mike.
“What a game,” Christie said no
w, watching Henry’s teammates dog-pile on top of him at home plate.
“It was amazing,” Jamie said. Christie was surprised to hear a catch in Jamie’s voice. But then, Jamie understood how badly Henry had needed this moment.
Christie reached for her purse and started to follow Lou and the kids as they exited the bleachers, but Jamie put a hand on her arm, drawing her back.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Jamie said, her voice low. “How did you know all along there really was a gun?”
Christie looked at her, surprised. “Because it was Mike,” she said without even having to think about her answer. “He never would’ve made that kind of mistake.”
“Oh,” Jamie said. She nodded slowly. “You’re right . . . Well, thank you for helping him. Mike told me about Elroy.”
“Hey, it was nothing,” Christie said quickly. Jamie’s face was a little scrunched, which was a tad alarming, given what had happened the last time Christie had seen her.
“Come on,” Christie said, heading toward the dugout. “Let’s go see Henry.”
They had to wait a few minutes, but finally Henry pulled away from his team and ran over to them.
“Did you see it?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” Christie said, throwing her arms around her sweaty boy. “You were awesome!”
“I caught it all,” Lou said, holding up a video camera. “I’ll make you a copy so you can watch the highlights.”
Henry grinned. “Thanks,” he said.
“Congrats, sweetheart,” Jamie said. She gave Henry a quick hug, then released him as Mike walked over to them.
“So what’s the plan, champ?” Mike asked, slinging an arm around Henry’s shoulders.
“The guys are going out for pizza,” he said. “Can we go?”
“You bet,” Mike said.
“I’ll get my stuff,” Henry said and ran off toward the dugout again.
There was a pause, then Mike said to Jamie, “Are you guys coming tonight?”
“No, I think Eloise is too tired,” Jamie said. “But thank you.”
“I can take the kids swimming tomorrow,” Mike said. “Should I pick them up around eleven?”
“Sure,” Jamie said.
Whoa, Christie thought, watching as Mike gave the younger kids hugs and swung Sam around a few times before ruffling his hair. She shot Lou a questioning look, but Jamie’s sister was fixated on some sort of bug that had flown onto her arm, pointing it out to Emily, who was making a disgusted face, as they walked toward the parking lot with Jamie and the other kids.
“Man, do I need a Gatorade,” Mike said, pulling off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair.
“It sounded like you and Jamie aren’t even living together,” Christie blurted.
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I guess it did.”
“Oh, don’t give me one of your cryptic cop nonanswers,” Christie said. “What’s going on?”
Mike glanced around—probably hoping Henry would save him—but Henry was posing for a team picture.
“Are you separated?” Christie pressed.
“More like a break,” Mike said.
“Does Henry know?” she asked.
“Sort of,” Mike said. “I stay at the house when he’s there. I told him we’re working things out.”
“Are you?” Christie asked.
Mike looked at her for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. She looked down at the ground.
“Anyway, can I catch a ride to the pizza place with you?” Mike asked. “I don’t have my cruiser, since I’m not officially back at work yet.”
“What have you been doing for a car?” Christie asked.
“My friend Shawn loaned me his,” Mike said. “But he needed it today.”
“Sure, I’ll drive you,” Christie said. She walked a few steps away to lean against the chain-link fence surrounding the field, needing a moment to think. This was what she’d wanted only a month or so ago—not for Jamie and Mike to separate, exactly, but for her to have another chance with Mike. But the two events were entwined. One was impossible without the other.
Henry was still posing for photos, near one end of the line of players, his red socks pulled up to the knees of his gray uniform, the number 8 boldly stamped on the back of his shirt. As a little boy, Henry had dressed up as a baseball player one Halloween, back when he’d first become interested in the game. Jamie had even bought him a tiny Rawlings glove, which had instantly become Henry’s favorite possession. Christie had gone trick-or-treating with them for an hour or so, then she’d peeled away, because she had a sexy cat costume and a party of her own to go to. She’d walked back to her car parked next to the white picket fence Mike had built, passing a wooden swing hanging over a branch of the maple tree in a corner of the yard.
The brown lines of the baseball field bisecting the grass reminded Christie of something. Henry had adored that swing. And Jamie had spent so much time pushing him on it that a patch of grass had been worn away by her footsteps, leaving a streak of brown earth cutting through the green.
Christie glanced at Mike again. He was staring off toward the place where Jamie and the kids had been.
Oh, who was she kidding? Mike had never truly wanted her, not when they’d first been dating and not now. He’d only been grateful for her help. She’d tried to imagine Mike kissing her that night in her apartment, when they’d been interrupted by Henry. But he’d leaned away ever so slightly at the precise moment she leaned in. She’d tried to block out that part of the memory, but there was no unseeing his quick, reflexive action.
She thought of the money Jamie had spent to send Henry to camp, while the broken strap on her sandal flapped with every step. That bit of earth woven through the rich green grass under the swing. The catch in Jamie’s voice when Henry had scored the winning run.
She walked back over to Mike. “You’re a big old idiot,” she said.
“Say what you really think,” he countered, but he was smiling. “Don’t hold back. You need to get over your shyness.”
“You and Jamie were meant for each other,” she said. “Don’t you dare get divorced.”
“Look, it isn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s none of my business,” she finished for him. “Who cares? I’m your friend and I’m telling you to go home to your wife, who loves you.”
Mike was looking at her strangely. “Since when are you such a fan of Jamie’s?” he asked.
“So she didn’t believe you about the gun,” Christie said. “People make mistakes. Don’t tell me you’ve never made one in your life.”
“It isn’t that easy— How are we talking about this?” Mike asked.
“She’s sorry, Mike. Really sorry,” Christie said. “I can tell. And she loves you. She loves Henry. Jamie loves your family more than anything in the world. That’s got to count for something.”
She let it go then and walked back to the fence, suddenly remembering something she’d meant to do at the game. She picked up her phone and began to type in a text message.
“Who are you calling?” Mike asked.
“Not Jamie, so calm down,” she said. “I’m texting Lou. I forgot I’m staging an intervention with her tomorrow.”
“An intervention?” Mike furrowed his brow.
“Have you seen her haircut?” Christie asked.
Before Mike could answer, Henry came back to them.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Let’s hit it,” Christie said, putting away her phone.
The three of them left the field, with Henry walking between her and Mike, which, Christie thought, was exactly as it should be.
* * *
Chapter Twenty
* * *
Two months later
Jamie was staring at the dry-erase board they’d attached to the kitchen wall to use as a family calendar when Lou walked into the room, yawning hugely.
“Sleep okay?” Jamie asked.
“Like a sloth on a fat branch,” Lou said. She grabbed a Honeycrisp apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and crunched into it. “You?”
“Fine,” Jamie lied. She walked over to the coffeemaker and poured herself another cup. She would’ve offered one to Lou, but Lou had sworn off coffee after quitting her barista job, saying it made her feel like she was at work. Jamie added a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream to her mug—her appetite had resurfaced recently, beckoning back six of the nine pounds she’d lost—then she began taking out the ingredients for waffles. The kids would be hungry when they woke up. They’d all shot up like crocuses over the summer, and Sam had become a really good swimmer, while Emily had lost two more of her baby teeth. Eloise had begun preschool the previous month, and Jamie had worried the transition might be difficult, but Eloise had marched right in on the first day, her new Dora the Explorer backpack firmly in place.
None of the kids seemed to bear scars from that horrible stretch of time in early summer and all that had followed. Jamie only wished she shared her children’s resilience.
“I’m heading out,” Lou called softly. Jamie walked to the front door to see her sister off.
“Dinner at six, right?” Jamie said.
“Yup,” Lou said.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Jamie said. “He sounds really great.”
Was Lou blushing?
Jamie leaned against the doorframe, watching Lou head toward the secondhand Honda Accord she’d leased. A cool breeze nipped at Jamie’s bare arms and she shivered. Soon the rising sun would burn off the chill, but right now, the promise of fall had encroached upon the day.
As Lou climbed into her car, Jamie reflected that she still wouldn’t recognize her sister from behind. Christie and Lou had formed a completely unexpected friendship—Jamie still had no idea how it had happened—and Christie had whisked Lou away to the salon where she used to work. Jamie, feeling protective of her younger sister, had almost intervened in Christie’s intervention, but Lou had just laughed and said she didn’t mind. Lou had returned home three hours later, looking dazed, her hair shaped into a layered bob with highlights framing her face.
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