by E. R. FALLON
“I get it, Terry, and I know it must be hard.”
“Sorry, I forgot to pick up dinner.”
“We already ate. I saved you some dinner.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t reply, but turned around and went upstairs. “Whatever happened to us, Terry?” she said quietly to herself, but he heard it.
Terry smacked his forehead hard. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he murmured to himself.
He grabbed a jacket and headed out the door again.
He disliked the idea of going to some place crowded, like a bar, so he headed to the place that he felt held the root of his domestic troubles.
The air had shifted to the frigid evening temperature that had been forecast. Maybe it would snow. He hoped it wouldn’t, at least not until he’d reached his father’s house.
He walked faster. He went up his father’s front steps and pressed the doorbell.
Terry’s father seemed surprised to see him. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes . . . I don’t really know, Dad,” Terry said. “I just wanted to see you. That’s why I’m here.”
His father nodded and went back into the house. Terry followed him and shut the door.
Terry could see the kitchen table in the other room when he entered. His father appeared to be in the middle of eating dinner.
“If you’re busy, I could come back another time.”
His father shook his head and went into the kitchen. “No. It’s fine,” he said with his back to Terry.
Terry followed him. A single plate of half-eaten food sat on the large dining table. Terry thought how small the plate looked alone on the table. He remembered how not too long ago the table had been filled with joy, as Terry, his father and mother, Tulia and Jimmy, had all sat around it on Sunday nights. When his mother died, the Sunday night dinners had stopped. Terry’s mother was the one who had always invited him and his family. She’d sit at the head of the table during those dinners that often lasted much too late for a Sunday. She’d tell off-color jokes that made even the moody adolescent Jimmy laugh out loud. Terry’s father had sat to his mother’s left, across from Terry, never saying much.
Now Terry looked back and wondered if his father had actually disliked those Sunday night dinners. He recalled from childhood how his father had stayed cooped up in an upstairs room that he had converted into a study, often for most of the day. Downstairs, over milkshakes, his mother would be telling the young Terry stories about her childhood in Brooklyn and her job as a teacher. And when Terry was older they’d talk and laugh over wine. They hadn’t invited his father to join them because he hadn’t seemed interested.
Terry’s father sat down to his finish his meal. Did he feel lonely sitting at the huge table with no one else around him?
Even with Terry there, his father ate in silence. Terry sat down across from him. It was only then that he noticed that his father was in the same seat he had sat in when Terry’s mother was still alive. Terry wondered why it was that even now, with her gone, his father didn’t dare to take a seat at the head of the table. Terry realized that he, too, was in the same seat he had sat in during the Sunday night dinners. Sitting at the big table again felt sad and wonderful at the same time to Terry. It was the first time since his mother’s funeral.
“Dad?”
“Yes?” His father looked him squarely in the eye.
“Do you ever get lonely here, eating by yourself?”
“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said.
“You know, if you want, you can come over for dinner sometime.” Terry found himself surprised at the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Tulia and I would love to have you over. I bet Jimmy would like to see you.”
His father simply nodded, and Terry asked him the very question that had been burning inside of him ever since he was a boy. “Dad, do you hate me?”
At this, his father scoffed faintly.
“Well, do you?” Terry raised his voice.
“No, I don’t hate you.”
“Then why were you so isolated from Mom, and why are you so isolated from me?”
“I loved your mother.”
“I know you did, but sometimes it seemed like we irritated you.”
His father cleared his throat and said gently, “I wasn’t finished with medical school when she had you. It was inconvenient. Of course that’s not the way I feel now, but it’s what I felt back then. I loved your mother and you, but I was also in love with my work.”
“Inconvenient?” Terry said.
His father nodded. “I was young.”
“And selfish,” Terry said. “Do you still feel that way about us — about me — now?” Terry’s voice had lowered to a whisper.
“No.”
“So why did, why do you, make me feel so damn guilty about becoming a cop, huh?”
His father stopped eating and sat quietly for a moment. Then he met Terry’s gaze. “I sent you to private school, Terence, and your mother and I also saved for college. You left after your first semester at the university. I was confused. I always thought it was what you wanted.”
“I love being a cop,” Terry replied. “Just like how you loved being a doctor. I was never going to be a doctor because it wasn’t what I loved.”
His father didn’t reply and continued eating.
“Back then, you never asked me what I might want to be,” Terry said. “You told me what I should want. But there’s more to it than that. There has to be. The look in your eyes when I came home in uniform — remember, the day after I was sworn in? You were so angry with me. Only Mom came to the ceremony. You stayed home. Why?”
“I never much liked cops, I guess.”
“What?” Instead of being upset by his father’s answer, he was genuinely surprised. “I never knew that about you. Where does that come from?”
“Where I come from, they weren’t very nice to us,” his father said. “I grew up poor. When I was a young man, before I left home for college, they, some cops, messed me up for no reason other than they didn’t like how I looked.”
Terry recalled the mark he had noticed on his father’s back when he had seen him coming out of the shower once when he was a kid. He had never asked his father where the thick, deep scar came from.
“What did they do to you?” Terry asked, more gently than before.
His father sighed deeply. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m tired, and I would like to finish my dinner.” He patted his eyes with his napkin.
Terry reached across the table and touched his father’s arm. “I never knew that. I didn’t know that happened to you. I’m sorry.”
His father nodded.
“But you know, I’m not them, Dad. I’m me. I’m your son.”
“I know that, Terry,” his father said quietly. He finished cutting the remainder of his steak.
His father hardly ever called him Terry. Terry watched him slice the meat. “You heard about the boy we found over in Beech Hills?”
He looked up at Terry. “Yes, it was in the newspaper.”
“Since you’re a doctor, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“The autopsy concluded that the child had his spleen removed two years before he died—”
His father stopped chewing. “What was the child’s age?”
“Eight or nine years old.”
“He died from a bacterial infection, correct?”
“How did you know that? It wasn’t mentioned in the newspaper article.”
“You mentioned he didn’t have a spleen so I assumed that’s how he died. His immune system would have been weak.”
Terry rested his elbows on the table. “Then there was nothing anybody could have done about it, right?”
“No. They could have put him on antibiotics. His death could have been prevented with the proper care. I’d say that negligence led to his death.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
His father nod
ded.
Terry rose from the table. “I guess I’ll go now.”
He patted his father on the shoulder, knowing that a hug wasn’t possible, even after all the emotions that had been released. Embraces from Terry’s father hadn’t been readily given or received when he was growing up, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
Terry doubted that he and his father would ever be close, even now that he was older and understood the man a little bit better. But Terry had accepted that.
As he grabbed his coat and opened the front door, his father called out, “Goodbye,” and Terry figured that was a start.
Chapter Eleven
Rebecca got in touch with Christopher McKnight. He promised he’d have the warrant for Ania and Danil Ilyin in connection with the death of their son Lev issued in roughly one hour. Since the parents were assumed to be the last people to have seen Lev alive, they were immediately labeled prime suspects.
Christopher McKnight had said he’d keep Rebecca updated regularly. McKnight was indeed a flirt, and had asked Rebecca if she’d like to join him for a drink the next time he was in the New York area. The only way to get him off the phone was for Rebecca to promise that she’d “think about it.” He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he wanted to meet her for a drink. Rebecca had to laugh about that.
Newark PD didn’t have any photographs of the parents, but with the help of a conscience-stricken Mr. Orlov and a talented sketch artist the department regularly used, Rebecca had managed to get a drawing of their faces. It was a rough sketch, but it would do for now.
The team from the New Jersey State Police Office of Forensic Science called the station with the news that traces of saliva were found on one of the gum wrappers near the scene of the body. The DNA was put through the national database, but ultimately no matches emerged. The saliva was found to have come from an adult male, and Rebecca figured it either belonged to Danil Ilyin, or that it was entirely unconnected to Lev Ilyin, and the wrapper had been tossed before the body was put there. The pillow was found to have only strands of Lev’s hair and traces of his skin.
The box that Lev had been found in was one of thousands produced to contain Maytag washing machines over the last few years. The serial numbers on the box had been traced to a local store. The owner told Rebecca over the phone that they unwrapped the appliances and disposed of the cardboard before selling the items. They didn’t have CCTV, and anyone could have taken the cardboard from their dumpster at night.
Who had actually operated on Lev Ilyin remained a mystery.
Morgan’s was packed by the time Rebecca and Dino got there. Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” played in the background. The dining area was at the back and the bar at the front. There was only one bar stool available, so they decided to wait around until two spots opened up. Rebecca recognized a few of the guys from the station sitting at the bar. They looked drunk. She saw one peer over at Dino and give him a thumbs up, probably about her. Dino ignored the gesture. She wore her hair up as usual, and was wearing a pair of black jeans and a comfortable sweater. She’d also put on the kick-ass boots she kept in her locker at the station.
“You know, you look great tonight. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while,” Dino said.
“I’m wearing the same thing I’ve been wearing all day.”
Dino pointed to her feet. “It’s the boots that I like.”
“These are my favorite boots. When I wear them, I’m almost as tall as you.”
“I love tall women,” he said.
Rebecca wasn’t going to give in too fast. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Cooper,” she said. “I’ve never seen you in jeans. Did you change before we left?”
He grinned. “Yeah. Do they look okay?”
She liked that he wanted her approval. “You look good.”
Dino pointed at the counter. “Those people are leaving.”
AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was pounding out of the speaker she stood in front of.
“Good,” Rebecca said. “I can hardly hear you.”
They quickly walked over to the crowded bar. Dino grabbed both stools before two guys in business suits, who had just raced through the front door, tried to sit down. The taller guy shot Dino a nasty look and threw his hands up in the air.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the guy said.
“We’ve been waiting a long time,” Dino said.
His shorter more muscular friend moved close to Dino. “So who gives a fuck?”
“Watch your mouth,” Dino said.
The two guys seemed to notice Rebecca for the first time.
“All right,” the tall guy said. “We’ll be gentlemen tonight.” He gestured for Rebecca to have a seat. “Go on, baby.”
“Watch it,” Dino said.
The guy smirked.
At first, Rebecca hesitated. She didn’t know what exactly this guy was up to. But after Dino’s gaze met hers, she sat down, and the two jerks walked away.
“Jeez,” Dino muttered, and sat down next to her. “That’s why I don’t like coming to bars.”
“Same here. Bunch of drunk hotheads. It’s just asking for trouble.”
“At least they walked off.”
“You know, for a while there I thought that—”
“They’d try to kick my ass?” Dino said.
“Yeah.”
“I would’ve defended your honor until the very end.”
“That’s very Dirty Harry of you, Cooper. But I don’t need any help in that department.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” He smiled.
She liked him a lot better when he smiled. It made him look boyish. She caught herself gazing at him.
“Now, how about that beer you promised me?” she said.
His smile widened, and she felt herself blushing. She couldn’t recall the last time any male had made her do that, probably not since high school.
“Everything okay?” he suddenly asked.
“Yeah,” she said, emerging from her daydream. “I’m just a little tired.”
“I know what you mean. This work. It gets to your head sometimes. I should be used to it by now, but this case, who can ever get used to something like that?”
“So true.”
That was one of the things she liked about him as well, that he seemed naïve when it came to recognizing that she hid her feelings behind a tough persona. She didn’t like men who were sure of themselves.
The place smelled of spilled beer and old cigarette butts, the kind left on the floor or tucked deeply into the corners of booths by lazy customers, even though smoking inside was against the law these days. They had a few beers each before Rebecca noticed her stomach was growling and suggested they go to Lulu’s.
“You really don’t like it here, do you?” Dino said. “Neither do I.”
“It’s very crowded. Besides, I’m starving.”
“And they certainly seem to be taking their time with the food orders. I noticed those people over there ordered when we first came in, and they still haven’t gotten their food. What a rip off.”
She laughed. Dino wanted to pay, but she wasn’t too fond of that idea, so they agreed to split it.
At Lulu’s they took their time deciding what to order and discussed the Lev Ilyin case.
“It looks like we’re all set for now,” Dino said.
“Yeah,” Rebecca said. “I’m going to head home after this to catch up on some sleep.”
“Sounds good. I think I’ll do the same. This was fun.”
“What?”
“Going out for drinks. It was fun.”
She nodded. “Was it a new experience for you or something?”
Dino shrugged innocently. “I’ll admit that I don’t usually go to bars with women I work with.”
“But you go with the guys at work, right?”
“Yeah. Not so much with Terry anymore because he has a family.”
“You’l
l just have to get used to it, Cooper, because we women are here to stay. Especially me. I’m not going anywhere, and I have no life, so I’ll pretty much always be around the station.”
Dino gave her a warm smile. “You love it, don’t you?”
“I like the work, yeah.”
“I was the same.”
“What about now?”
“Now? Now I’m just plain old. I think I’d be tired no matter what I did.”
“Bullshit. You’re not that much older than me. You still love it, I can see it in your eyes.”
“You caught me,” Dino admitted, with a smile.
The waitress came over and whipped out her ordering pad. “What do you want?”
“BLT and a Pepsi,” Rebecca said immediately.
The waitress turned to Dino. “You?”
“I’ll have the same, but with a Diet Pepsi.”
The waitress scribbled fast on her pad. As she collected the menus, Dino said, “I don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s up with you lately?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean to offend you, but I’ve been coming here for a long time, and lately you — well, you seem rushed and you’ve been kind of unpleasant to your customers, me included.”
She glared at him. “Look, mister, the way I’ve been lately is my business.” She stomped off.
“Wonderful,” Rebecca said. “Now she’ll probably spit in our food.”
Dino seemed stunned. “You think she’d do that?”
“Oh, sure. Trust me. I was a waitress in high school, and if somebody said to me what you just said to her, I’d probably do it too.”
“We should get the heck out of here, then.”
“You’re suggesting that we skip out on the check?”
“It’s not like the food’s arrived yet.”
“Where would we go?”
“To my place. We can come back here some other time when she cools down.”
“Your place?
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s late and nothing’s open except for this dive. I have a couple of frozen pizzas in my freezer, some beer in my fridge . . .”
“All right,” Rebecca said unflinchingly. “But if you try anything at all, Cooper, remember, I carry a gun, even off duty.”
