by Joan Kilby
“Screw you.” What the hell was this about? Were they teasing? Was this a lame joke because she was a woman or because she was new? She should laugh it off but she couldn’t find her sense of humor.
“We know about you,” Delinsky crowed.
How could they know about her past? That was supposed to be a secret. Was she imagining the menace in Delinsky’s voice? Were they trying to get rid of her? Whatever they knew, or thought they knew, would they tell John? If so, there went any hope of her promotion, if not her job.
“Nothing to know.” Her voice was too loud, bouncing off the pale green walls. “Piss off, jerks, and let me get ready for work. Shift is about to start.”
“We think there’s plenty to know, don’t we guys?” Crucek glanced around for support and received grunts of assent and nodding heads.
Had Nick gotten to them? No, that was plain paranoid. She swallowed. Wasn’t it?
They had her surrounded, Crucek and Jackson in front, Delinsky’s hot breath on the back of her neck. These men were supposed to be her coworkers, her support system. Yet at this moment she felt that if she showed any weakness they would tear her apart like a pack of wolves.
“Back. Off.” She spoke more forcefully, spinning to snap at Delinsky. “You, too, hotshot.”
Jackson took a step closer. As if by agreement, the others did, too. “We don’t like bent cops.”
“Do you know what happens to bent cops?” Crucek sneered.
Paula scowled, adrenaline rushing through her body, making her feel sick. Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear them. She had a crazy urge to pull out her gun and start firing. Maybe that’s what they wanted, for her to lose control.
Riley rose and walked over. Although he was junior to the others he had a battle-hardened air that gave him an innate authority. “Give me that.” He reached between Jackson and Crucek and yanked away the plastic bag. He held it up to the light, turned it this way and that.
Paula clenched her fists. If her partner was in on the plot to break her, she would never forgive him. If she was found in possession of drugs, all her credibility was gone. Whatever the guys’ motivation was, this had the potential to hurt her. Badly.
Riley opened the bag and shook a large irregular crystal into his palm. He brought his hand to his mouth and took a lick. Ran the taste around in his mouth. “Rock sugar. The kind some people put in their coffee.”
Sugar. Relief flooded her, weakening her knees. She hadn’t been set up with real drugs. They didn’t know anything. No one was out to get her. Nick hadn’t infiltrated the station. John wouldn’t find out about her past.
The men erupted in roars of laughter.
Jackson slapped her on the back. “We got you good, Drummond!”
“Welcome to Summerside P.D.” Crucek had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
“You’re a good sport.” Delinsky grinned and squeezed her arm.
The men drifted away, still crowing. “She took it so seriously.” “Did you see her expression?” “I could hardly keep a straight face.”
Paula stood where she was, trembling and trying not to show it. Bloody bastards thought they were so clever. She’d love to give them a dose of their own medicine. But she didn’t dare, not with even a faint possibility of her detective stripes dangling in front of her. She had to keep on the straight and narrow, regardless of how much she’d like to grind these backwoods amateur cops into the dirt.
Riley took her arm and led her to the bench, gently pushed her onto it. He sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It was just a joke.”
She shook off his hand, turning her pent-up fury on him. “Stay out of it. I can fight my own battles.”
“They hid my gun the first week I was here,” Riley went on as though she hadn’t bitten his head off. “I thought I’d lost it. I was shitting myself. Idiot that I was, I didn’t even get that they were hazing me. They waited until I wrote up a missing-equipment report and was about to give it to John before they brought out my revolver from wherever they’d hidden it.”
“What did you do?” Paula asked. Was there a way to get even without cost to her? Doubtful. She knew how hazing worked. If you got mad, you were a poor sport. If you tried to get even, the jokes escalated.
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. But it’s not so bad here in Summerside. I’ve seen army squadrons where newcomers are hazed for months. But these guys will do it only once. They called you a good sport—after today you won’t have to worry about them.” Riley paused. “You did take it awfully seriously.” He waited, as if for an explanation.
“I was never treated like that in my other units.” She didn’t mention the moving of files, the swapping of her hat for one three sizes too big. But those pranks happened years ago, when she was a rookie. This seemed malicious. Or was she being overly sensitive? “Were you in on it?”
“No. I’m not a fan of practical jokes.” Riley drew a thumbnail along the grain of the bench, making a shallow crease in the wood. “I don’t think they meant to upset you. Maybe they inadvertently hit close to the bone.” He searched her face. “Did they?”
Really? He wanted her to cozy up and confide in him? Think again, mate. He might be handsome and sexy and professional and a whole lot of things she admired, but they had a job to do and that’s where their connection ended. Besides, she’d rather do a month of solid paperwork than trust someone she’d just met with her past.
Paula got to her feet. She unclenched her fingers and felt the blood flow into them. “Shouldn’t we be out on traffic patrol, nailing speeders?”
Riley continued to regard her with that measured gaze. She shifted edgily, twisting her cap. Finally he rose and tipped a sardonic finger to his brow. “Okay. Partner.”
* * *
PAULA KNOCKED ON THE open classroom door, arriving for her parent-teacher interview. The walls were lined with brightly colored student artwork. Tables, not desks, were used for seating. At the back of the room beanbags formed a reading circle next to the bookshelf. Her new job might be less than she’d hoped for but at least for Jamie the atmosphere was warm and welcoming.
Katie Henning, seated at her desk, glanced at her schedule. “You must be Paula, Jamie’s mum. Please come in.”
“It’s nice to have a parent-teacher meeting early in the year,” Paula said, taking a seat. Katie had her brother’s dark hair, high cheekbones and sculpted mouth. But instead of dark brown eyes, Katie’s were pale green.
“We like to get parents involved in their child’s education right from the start.” Katie leafed through the stack of folders on her desk. “I’ve got some of Jamie’s work to show you.”
“We have someone else in common besides Jamie,” Paula said. “Your brother, Riley.”
“I know, he told me.” Katie pulled a folder with Jamie Drummond written across the top. “I asked Riley if you two would give my class a lesson in bike safety. Would you be up for that? I’ll bet your son would be thrilled to show off his mum, the cop.”
Paula wasn’t sure she wanted to draw attention to Jamie being her son. But she guessed if Nick were going to find out about the boy, he would do so regardless of a bike safety talk. “That sounds fine.”
“We’ll schedule it in a few weeks, when the kids have settled in.” Katie smiled. “Jamie’s a lovely boy.”
Katie probably said that to all the parents but Paula couldn’t help feel a rush of maternal pride. “He’s enjoying school. Is it too early to ask how he’s doing in class?”
“He’s adjusting well, playing with the other children. Judging from his drawings he has excellent fine motor skills.”
“So you have no concerns at this point?”
“There is one thing. The other day I asked the children to draw pictures of their parents’ occupations. He depicted you
in a police uniform. All good there.” Katie removed a drawing from Jamie’s folder and passed it across the desk. “But is his father really an astronaut?”
Paula pressed her fingers to her mouth at the cartoon-like figure of a man in a space suit. Poor Jamie. School activities and interacting with other students would inevitably highlight his lack of a father. She’d tried to prepare him but she couldn’t foresee every contingency.
“I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about Jamie’s father before.”
“You can tell me now,” Katie said. “This meeting is for parents and teachers to talk about any issues or special problems.”
“Jamie’s never met his father. N-Nicholas and I separated before Jamie was born. He isn’t an astronaut. He’s…a businessman,” she lied, choosing her words carefully. “He’s not in our lives. Never has been and never will be. I have full custody. I’ve provided a copy of the court order to the school office. If Jamie’s father were ever to come to Summerside, he’s not to have any contact with Jamie. That’s extremely important. No contact. At all.”
“We have a couple of students where custody is an issue,” Katie said. “Jamie’s not alone there.”
Paula doubted her son’s situation was remotely similar to the other pupils’. She didn’t want to be one of those overprotective helicopter mothers hovering over her child, but Nick’s re-emergence had spiked her sense of vulnerability. She gripped her purse as Katie once again leafed through Jamie’s folder.
“Ah, yes. I see you’ve noted on his information sheet that you, Karen Drummond and Sally Leeds are the only people authorized to pick him up from school.”
“Karen is my mother. Sally is Jamie’s after-school caregiver,” Paula explained. “I’ve spoken to her about the situation. Sally’s very reliable. But in the event that she’s late, what safeguards are in place to prevent someone else taking Jamie before she gets here?”
“A teacher is always on duty outside at the front of the school at home time,” Katie said. “With so many students it’s difficult to ensure each child goes with the correct adult. It’s up to the authorized person picking up to get there on time.”
“As I said, Sally’s dependable. However, I’d like this information to be circulated to every teacher.” Paula pressed her hand on the sheet. “I can’t stress how important this is.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” Katie wrote a brief memo on the info sheet. “Cops. You’re so security-conscious. Riley is always installing some new alarm in my house. I’m not complaining. It’s good to know someone’s looking out for you.”
Paula nodded politely, unable to relate. She looked out for herself.
“I don’t blame you,” Katie added. “Children are precious and so vulnerable.”
“Do you have kids?”
Katie shook her head wistfully. “Someday. If I meet the right guy.”
“It’s not easy, is it?” Paula gave her a wry smile, one single woman in her thirties to another.
Katie’s dry lift of her eyebrows acknowledged the truth of that. “However, I’m too busy right now with work to be looking for anyone permanent.”
“Same.” Although it was more complicated than that. She would love to find a wonderful man and have another child or two. But a proper home and a family felt out of reach with Nick lurking in her background. Oh, by the way, Jamie’s dad is a drug lord but don’t worry, I’m over him. Understandably, any worthwhile man would run a mile once he knew that about her. What was wrong with her that she could have fallen for a criminal?
“Anything else I can tell you?” Katie asked.
Paula would have welcomed knowing why Riley shunned questions about his past. What badass thing had he done? But that probably wasn’t what Katie meant. “No, I think that’s it. I know you have a lot of parents to see tonight. It was nice to meet you.”
Katie got to her feet and shook hands. “I’ll be in touch to organize for the bike safety class in a few weeks. Thanks for agreeing.”
“I’m happy to do it.” Paula said good-night and walked through the corridors, thinking ahead to picking up Jamie from Sally’s house, then going home. After she got Jamie into bed, she might treat herself to a nice hot bath. Riley was right. She had been tense lately—for good reason—and the incident with the rock sugar hadn’t helped.
Thirty minutes later she turned into her driveway, half listening to Jamie’s chatter about the game of hide and seek he’d played at Sally’s house. Nearly eight o’clock, it was still light. Her glance automatically went to the front door—
Her hands tightened on the wheel. Sitting on the mat was a bright red remote-controlled racing car. She couldn’t afford toys that expensive. Her mother would never splurge unless it was a birthday or Christmas present. Nor would she leave it sitting on the front porch. It definitely wasn’t Christmas and Jamie’s birthday was in July.
Only one person would have given such a gift.
Nick.
CHAPTER THREE
PAULA DROVE INTO the carport, hoping Jamie hadn’t seen the toy. Somehow she had to get him into the house through the back door.
“What’s that on the porch?” Jamie unbuckled his seat belt even before the car had stopped.
“Nothing. Jamie—”
Too late. He was out of the car and running across the lawn and through the flower bed. “It’s a car.”
“Jamie, honey, don’t get excited.” She hurried after him, dropping her purse in her haste. She grabbed it from among the petunias, wasting precious seconds. “It’s probably a mistaken delivery.”
“It’s for me,” Jamie said. He kneeled on the mat, a gift card in his hand. “My name’s on it, see?”
Jamie might not be able to read yet but she’d taught him to recognize his name and phone number and to print both. He also knew the alphabet.
“It’s from…” His small brow furrowed as he laboriously spelled out, “D…A…D.” He looked up at her. “What does that spell?”
Paula gazed into her son’s small trusting face and felt her heart break. She never lied to him. Ever.
“Mum?” His eyes searched hers.
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed. Her hands felt clammy. “D-dad. It spells, Dad.”
Jamie went still, his eyes wide and unblinking. “But I thought— You said he was overseas.”
Okay, maybe that one lie.
“Um, he was.” Her fingers curled into her palms. How dare Nick disturb their peace? How dare he think he could buy his child? “He must be back.”
“Yay!” Jamie stood and ran down the steps as if expecting to see his father out on the sidewalk. “Where is he?” Looking up the street he took a step forward and called tentatively, “Dad?” Another step. “Dad! I’m home.”
Though it was a fine evening, it was past dinnertime and no one was outside. There were no strange cars parked nearby that she didn’t recognize. Through the curtains in the houses across from hers came the blue flicker of TV screens. Chances were no one had seen who’d placed the toy car on her step.
“Jamie.” Paula ran to take his hand and tugged him toward the porch. “He must have gone.”
Jamie dragged his feet, looking over his shoulder. “He’ll come back, right?”
“No.” Her free hand curled into a fist she would dearly love to smash into Nick’s face for raising a little boy’s expectations.
Jamie stopped dead, crestfallen. “But he’ll want to see me if he’s back from his trip. Won’t he?”
Oh, God. “I don’t know. He’s not—” She thought desperately, agonized at seeing her son hurt. “His job doesn’t allow him to be a family man.”
“But he came here. We weren’t home. He’ll come back,” Jamie said logically.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, leading him up the steps. “You
’ll have your bath and get ready for bed. Then we’ll talk about your father.”
“I want to play.” Jamie crouched beside his new toy. Gripping the slick red hood of the racing car with small fingers he tried to pull off the wires holding it on to the cardboard packaging.
“No!” Paula snatched up the toy. “I’m sorry. You can’t have it.”
“It’s mine!” He scrambled to his feet, his arms reaching upward. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “My dad gave it to me.”
Paula fumbled with the key, stabbing it into the lock as she held the car high, feeling like the world’s meanest mother. She got the door open and dragged Jamie, kicking and screaming, into the house. She put the car on top of the bookshelf in the living room.
“Why won’t you give it to me? I hate you!” Jamie yelled, his face red.
Paula crouched and took him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I know you’re angry and upset. But your father is not part of our lives. We can’t accept presents from him.”
“Why not?” Jamie wailed, rubbing his eyes. “Why can’t I see him? He wants to see me.”
“Just because.”
Because he’s a bad man. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.
“I want my car. My daddy brought it to me!” He was working himself into a full-blown tantrum such as he hadn’t had since he was three years old.
Paula tried to fold him in a hug to rock him but he tore away from her and flung himself face down on the carpet, his ribcage heaving.
“You have to trust me, sweetheart,” she pleaded. Only me.
A knock sounded at the door. Great. All she needed was some nosy neighbor thinking she was beating her kid.
She left Jamie pounding his fists on the floor while she answered the door. “This isn’t a good t—” Riley stood there wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black polo shirt. “What are you doing here?”
Riley began to speak but Jamie’s howls were too loud to ignore. He peered past her, into the house. “Is something wrong?”
