by A. J. Norris
“Do you want a kid of your own? Have you ever thought about it?”
She pursed her lips. “Hmm…yes, I’ve thought about it. I guess I figure I’d make a lousy parent. I was never one of those teenagers that babysat.”
Mikey laughed. “I never babysat either.”
“Yeah, but that’s different, you’re a guy.”
“So?”
“So, guys I knew didn’t babysit.”
He smiled. “Stereotype much?”
“Shut up. No. It’s totally true.”
“That is not true,” he said. “But kiss me and I’ll let you win the argument.”
She laughed and leaned into a kiss. Her lips parted and he snaked his tongue around hers.
The passion between them quickly built. Mikey pulled at the hem of her shirt. “We should…take this…to the bed…room.” With their lips locked they walked toward his room, passing by the front door.
The doorbell rang. A stab of dread poked his gut.
Shit. Now she shows up?
The bell rang again. “Just a sec!” Without looking out the side window, Mikey opened the door with Grace’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. “Detective, what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Mikey
When Mikey swung his front door open, Grace looked around him. “Dad?” her breath caught in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“Grace?”
Mikey choked on his saliva. “You two know each other?”
“You could fucking say that,” Harry barked. “Grace, get your things, we’re leaving. Right. Now.” The two officers flanking the detective looked at each other. Mikey saw Hunter’s ugly Buick and a police cruiser parked outside at the curb.
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere. This is my boyfriend.”
“What’s going on, Hunter?” Mikey kept a protective arm around Grace’s waist. “You’re here for a reason?”
God, what did Cynthia do now?
“Your ex-wife’s dead. Murdered,” Harry snapped.
Mikey’s knees weakened and the blood ran out of his head. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “did you say my ex-wife Cynthia’s…dead?”
“You heard correctly.” Hunter’s tone evened out. “Can you account for your whereabouts tonight?”
Grace put herself between Mikey and her father. “He’s been here with me.” Mikey reached a shaky hand out and placed it on her shoulder. She grasped his fingers with both hands.
“Y-yeah. I’ve…I’ve been with my son and Grace all day. I went to take my son home around six o’clock, to…to her house, but Cynthia didn’t answer the door. I thought she wasn’t home. I left a message on her voice mail then we came back to my house.” He swallowed the rising bile in the back of his throat; licked his lips.
The detective glared at the hand Mikey had on her shoulder. “Grace, go get in my car and lock the door, we need to speak to Mikey Hardin alone.”
“No.”
Harry’s face turned red under the porch light. “Grace.”
“What? You can’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult.”
“Yes, I can. I’m your father. And I said let’s go.”
Grace remained where she stood, holding Mikey’s hand. She glowered at her father.
“What do you need to talk to me about?” Mikey asked, keeping the smugness off his face; the whole time he’d been seeing Grace her father had been harassing him.
Ha!
Hunter didn’t respond for a minute, and instead gaped at them. Mikey wondered if the man was thinking the same thing as him.
“Detective?”
“Yeah?” Harry swayed ever so slightly. He covered his mouth with a hand and burped. “Excuse me.”
“You all right?” Mikey asked, one eyebrow rising.
“I’m fine,” the detective said through clenched teeth.
“What happened?” Grace asked.
Harry sighed heavily when he looked at his daughter. “Have you really been with this guy all day?”
“Yeah. We’ve been seeing each and I’ve been staying with him until Cody’s apprehended.”
“Listen, Grace, I don’t want you staying here, all right?” Her father tried to pull her away from Mikey.
“No, Dad, what are you doing? Stop!” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp.
“Hey hey,” Mikey interjected. “I don’t care who you are to her, don’t touch her like that.” Of all the women he could have met, dated, fallen for, he chose the one person Harry Hunter was related to. Surprisingly, the revelation didn’t make him desire her any less. He still wanted to be with her, no matter who her father was.
“You don’t want to mess with me right now,” Harry warned.
Grace threw her hands up. “I’m not staying with you…you’re crazy. Leave. Go.”
“Gracie…”
“Nope. Leave.”
Harry protested and she held up her hand to stop him. “You informed him, he has a solid alibi, and I know what his rights are. So unless you’re going to arrest him, you can leave. If you have more questions, I’m sure he’ll come down tomorrow and talk to you. Goodnight.”
Mikey wasn’t sure she was correct but Hunter grumbled and the three cops left. Grace stood with her hands on her hips in the doorway until the cars pulled away then shut the door. She led him back to the couch. He sat with his face in his palms.
“He probably wants you safe…” His words lost their forward momentum. How was he going to tell Brayden his mother was dead?
Oh God.
He thought about all the people he needed to notify. Would the police tell her mother or did he need to call her? Thoughts rushed through his brain so fast, nothing made sense anymore. Was Cynthia really dead or was he dreaming? He took an unsteady breath. Cold sweat dampened the back of his shirt. This was nuts.
Grace sat down next to him. She rubbed circles on his back.
Mikey reached for his cell phone. His hands trembled as he looked up his ex-mother-in-law’s number. Holding his phone up to his ear required two hands. Marie answered the call on the third ring.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded rushed.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He adjusted the phone several times. “M-Marie…this is Mikey.”
“Oh my God…” Her voice wavered as she sobbed, “Is Brandon all right?”
“Brayden.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “So you heard?”
“Never mind that, is my grandson okay?”
“Yes. He’s with me at my house, still sleeping. I haven’t t-told him yet.” Mikey began to cry for his son’s loss. Tears for Cynthia had long ago dried up.
“I assumed he was with you.”
“I’m so sorry about Cynthia. We didn’t get along, but I would never wish this on anyone.”
“Thank you and I know that. Like you, we hadn’t spoken much lately. Oh God…”
Marie babbled on about how she wished she lived closer and wished she and her daughter had a better relationship. She blamed their estrangement on Cynthia’s lack of a father figure growing up. And oh, how she loved her daughter the best she could but she was never satisfied. The woman’s guilt was palpable through the phone. He’d heard this all before.
“I’ll be flying in to make funeral arrangements tomorrow,” she said.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. I’ll call you when I get into town. I would like you to help with the arrangements, for Brayden’s sake.”
“All right.” The line went dead before he had a chance to say goodbye. He hoped the woman didn’t think he was going to pay for anything. He was willing to go with her, but that was all.
“She wants me to go with her to make the funeral arrangements,” he told Grace after putting the phone down.
Grace looked doubtful. “She didn’t sound too broken up about her daughter being…”
“Yeah, wel
l, that’s Marie. They weren’t close. Especially in the last few years.”
Mikey placed a call to Brad and Andrea, and they were on their way over.
The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later. Expecting to see his best friends on the other side of the door, he swung it open without checking who was on his front porch. Again, two uniformed cops greeted him.
Shit.
His heart sank further.
“Are you Mr. Hardin?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, uh, Detective Hunter told us to pick up his daughter. She needed a ride home.” The officer shrugged ever so slightly. Grace snaked around the front of Mikey and she set her chin.
“Oh, no. Officer…Rudy, is it? You can call Detective Hunter and tell him I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If my Dad wants to see me, he can make an appointment. I’m available Thursday at never o’clock.”
Mikey stifled a chuckle.
“Harry said—”
“I don’t care what Harry said. I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. Good night.”
“Grace maybe you should go with them,” Mikey suggested. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with the police on his doorstep.
Brayden walked into the room rubbing his eyes. “Dad? What’s going on?” Mikey turned around. “Are you being arrested?”
Mikey glanced at the ceiling and exhaled loudly. “No, Bray.” He reached for his son, holding him tightly.
“The cops were just leaving, sweetie,” Grace said, glowering at the uniformed men. She slammed the door in their faces.
“I’m scared,” Brayden said.
Me too.
Mikey ushered him over to the sofa and knelt in down in front of his son. He squeezed his eye shut. “Bray, there’s something I need to tell you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. Brayden sat statue-still. “Your mother…” shit, “…your mother passed away tonight.”
Brayden looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Your mom is gone. I’m sorry.”
Mikey wanted to scream.
“You mean s-she’s dead?” His bottom lip quivered and his chin wrinkled.
Mikey’s phone rang and he ignored it.
“Yeah…I’m so sorry Brayden.”
His son scooted forward on the couch and grabbed him around the neck. Mikey looked over to see his girlfriend crying too. No one had heard the front door open. Brad and Andrea held hands under the archway that led into the living room off the front hallway. Grace greeted each of them with a hug.
“How did she die?” Brayden asked.
Mikey realized now that he hadn’t asked Hunter any specific questions. He only told him she’d been murdered. “Not sure, buddy. But I don’t think she suffered.” A pang of guilt hit him in the chest. There was no way he thought this was the truth.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
Grace
After hours of crying, Brayden finally exhausted himself enough to fall asleep. He lay on the couch and Grace watched his little chest rise and fall with each breath. Tear tracks lined his cheeks and looking at him made her eyes shiny. Mikey covered Brayden’s legs with a throw blanket. She didn’t think anything could wake Brayden now.
Grace settled into the oversized chair across from the couch. Brad and Andrea sat at the dining table engaged in a whispered conversation with one another. Mikey sat on the sofa at his son’s feet.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“So, um, my father is—”
“It’s okay, Grace. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”
Thank God.
Her dad could be so pushy when it came to her, although his reaction this time was a little odd even for him. Even stranger, how did Mikey know her father’s name? And if they knew each other, why hadn’t her boyfriend mentioned anything?
“How do you know my dad?”
Mikey shrugged. “We’ve met a few times, but I wouldn’t say I know him. I certainly didn’t know you were his daughter.”
“Oh. He never mentioned it, ever?”
Mikey rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
She wondered if he purposefully ignored the question. Not that she blamed him, the news that Cynthia was gone for good had to be overwhelming even if they hadn’t gotten along. Her question was a topic for another time.
Brad cleared his throat. “Hey, anyone interested in having breakfast? I might know a chef that can whip something up.”
“What time is it?” Mikey asked, yawning.
“Almost six o’clock,” Andrea announced.
“Shit. Yeah, there’s eggs and stuff to make a couple of omelets or something in the fridge,” he told Brad. He stood up and looked at Grace with a lopsided grin, holding a hand out to her. “Hungry?”
“I guess. What about Bray, should we wake him?”
“I wanna let him sleep. He’ll be fine.”
Grace placed her hand in Mikey’s and they walked into the kitchen where Brad was already destroying the place and making way too much noise.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
Grace
On Tuesday morning, Grace forced herself to leave Mikey and Brayden’s side to go to work. She finished the last of her extended deadline returns and looked at the clock on her office wall.
When her father poked his head around the door jamb she glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk.” Harry held his palms up. He came in and closed the door behind him. She leaned back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest. “I think you need—”
“Nice. Don’t bother asking me how my boyfriend is doing or anything.”
“I won’t. Grace, this guy is bad news.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know him.”
“I do too. I’ve interviewed him a few times.”
“Interviewed him? For what?”
“Figures he didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Mikey Hardin is a suspect in the murder of those women. Or he was until Sunday.”
She placed her hands on the top of her desk. “What are you—what?”
Her father paced the floor then stopped at a photograph sitting on a file cabinet of Grace and her mom taken on the beach two months before she died. He picked up the frame. “Your hair is the same color as your mother’s.”
“Dad, please.”
“He knew the victims, or had contact with them.”
Grace listened to her father with her mouth hung open.
“I know you like this guy, Gracie, but I’m not sure he’s the one. Obviously he’s lied to you.”
“You think he killed them?” Her stomach churned.
Harry set the picture back down and turned toward her. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Yes it does.”
“I’m not sure of anything. But…” he sighed, “my gut says no. However, smoke often leads to fire, and alarms are going off in my head.”
Grace wanted to bang her head on her desk. She had let herself care for Mikey. She even liked his son, and she didn’t really feel comfortable around children. “This is just great.”
Harry stared at her. “I’m sorry. I want you to be safe and I’m afraid if you keep hanging around him you’ll end up dead. We still haven’t caught this guy.”
“Do you think the perp is the same guy that attacked me?”
Harry’s silence answered her question. She sat quietly and stared at the stack of papers on her desk. When her father sighed, her eyes flipped up to his.
“I only want what’s best for you. I can’t lose you. If he’s lied about something as big as this, what else has he not told you the truth about? Do you want that kind of drama in your life?”
Grace refused to cry in front of her dad. Her head ached. “Please leave. I want to be alone.”
“Just
think about it. I love you, Gracie.”
Her tears stung her eyes. Thankfully, her father left her office before she cried. He paused outside the doorway, cursed softly, and then disappeared down the hall.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
Mikey
Cynthia’s body had been taken to Rose and Son’s Funeral Home. Marie sat next to Mikey in the funeral director’s office. The first twenty minutes his ex-mother-in-law blubbered to Daryl Rose, Jr. about how good a mother her daughter had been and how she wanted Cynthia remembered for her selfless nurturing. Mikey clenched his jaw during the whole nauseating load of crap. Mr. Rose suggested she speak with their grief counselor before leaving. Instantly and miraculously her tears dried up.
The director placed a color brochure on the end of the desk open to the caskets they had available. “This model is our most popular. I think you’ll find the price point reasonable.”
Marie scanned the standard features. “Hmm…I’d like this one, in the burgundy.”
“You have fine taste. We always have this particular model on-site. It’s on display in our showroom.”
Mr. Rose stood. “If you’ll step right this way, you can have a look.”
Mikey took a deep breath and followed after Marie with Daryl at the head. The showroom consisted of five pine boxes. Mr. Rose explained the differences in each one and the features. Two were mahogany, one plastic, and one was covered with a thin metal. Mikey thought the man said brass but he couldn’t be certain. The one Marie eyed was made of fiberglass in a light shiny burgundy. The inside was lined with pink satin.
Marie placed her hand on top of the casket. “What did you say the price point was?”
Rose stroked his silk tie. “Four thousand.”
Mikey nearly choked to death on his own tongue.
Oh, is that all?
“Is this the floor model price?” Marie asked without a hint apprehension, like she was questioning a used car salesman.
“I’m sorry?” The mortician furrowed his brow. “Floor model?”
“Yes. If the casket is a demo, I should receive a discount.”
