by Joan Kilby
“First off, I have no address yet. I’m staying with family and friends and you’re not getting those details. After your stunt yesterday, I don’t want them hassled. Secondly, I’ve done nothing wrong so I see no reason why police should question me. I do not know who’s responsible for the drugs in Summerside so I would be of no use to you.”
“You don’t wish to earn my trust?”
“It’s you who needs to earn my trust. Let Jamie come to the festa di compleanno. His great-grandmama is old—this is likely her last visit to Australia. All his cousins, his aunts and uncles, and his grandpapa will be there.” He paused. “Like it or not, my family is his heritage. They are not all criminals.”
She could imagine the scene, a huge boisterous Italian gathering, everyone doting on Jamie. Her son was an only child. All he had were two cousins in Sydney, her brother’s kids, who he saw maybe once a year. She experienced a fleeting moment of temptation on Jamie’s behalf. Then she remembered who she was dealing with.
“Give me the address,” she said. “I’ll bring Jamie by for a couple of hours.”
“My family would not welcome you,” Nick said. “You must trust me with our son.”
John was writing something on a piece of paper. He passed it to Paula. Say yes. You’ll have full back-up.
Paula pushed the paper away. “No deal.” She spoke to Nick but was looking at John. “Jamie doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
Detective Leonard groaned. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
“What was that?” Nick said. “Is someone else there?”
“Jamie. I’ve got to go.” Paula hung up.
She faced down the hostile stares around the table. “Back-up or no, if Nick gets Jamie inside a house full of his relatives, I might never see my son again.”
“While we waste time locating Moresco’s residence more teenagers will be sold crystal meth,” Detective Cadley said. “We put a tail on our man, a SWAT team at the ready, and your son would be recovered before he even set foot in the house.”
“No,” Paula said.
“Without evidence linking him to the drugs we got nothing,” Detective Leonard said. “If we know where he lives, we can get a warrant to search the premises.”
“No,” Paula said, louder.
“I agree with Paula,” Riley said. “It’s too risky.”
“Thank you,” she said fervently.
Despite Riley’s support the tension in the briefing room was thick as she turned her phone off and dropped it in her purse.
She knew she’d done the right thing. But although John hadn’t explicitly stated that her future at Summerside P.D. hinged on her cracking this case, she knew the chances of her making the leap from Acting Detective to permanent Detective would be a lot higher if she did. He could find a way around the budget clampdown if he really wanted to.
It mattered. A lot. She had planned to move on to a larger police department once she got her detective stripes. Now Summerside was where she wanted to live and raise Jamie.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I JUST WASTED four hours of my life I will never get back.” Riley entered Paula’s temporary office without knocking. He was hot and sweaty from the long drive to the other side of Melbourne through rush-hour traffic. To top things off, the patrol car’s air-conditioning had conked out half way.
Copies of the files of her original investigation of Nick were spread across her desk. She was marking places on three different reports with fingertips. “You broke my concentration,” she snapped.
“Bite me.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“I beg your pardon?” Her frown deepened.
“Boss. Don’t you want to know why I wasted my time? The address the post office had for Moresco belongs to his great-aunt.”
“At least you tied up that loose end.”
“Bully for me.”
The entire drive back, all he’d thought about was seeing her, the two of them sinking a couple of cold ones in his backyard or maybe taking Jamie to the beach. Instead she was giving him grief for not kowtowing and tugging his forelock. The investigation was stalled. They had no leads whatsoever on Moresco. And ever since the day she’d come to Riley’s house with her housewarming gift their relationship had taken a step backward. She wouldn’t let him kiss her or even take her hand within four blocks of the station. Claimed her feelings for him made her a lousy cop.
“I’d better go,” he said, rising. “I’m in a foul mood, not fit to be around people.”
“Wait,” Paula said. “I spoke to Katie yesterday when I picked up Jamie and the class guinea pig. We got to talking about your new kitchen and I mentioned the eggcups.”
“You shouldn’t have. It’s really no big deal.” He ran a hand over his head, feeling the damp hair and hot scalp underneath. He hated that Katie knew he was being a sook over the eggcups. He didn’t want her worrying about him.
“She said she wasn’t using them. They were collecting dust in the back of her cupboard.”
“Yeah?”
“She brought them around for you.” Paula stood and picked up a cardboard box in the corner of her office. “She says they belong in your house. The only reason she took them was so they wouldn’t get thrown out. You were in Afghanistan on your first tour of duty or something. Your father was getting married again and was purging, making room for Sandra’s things.”
Riley opened the box and took out the top cup. It was ceramic with vivid purple and yellow stripes. He remembered eating out of it when he was a kid. “I’m surprised Katie even gave a thought to the eggcups. She was so sick at the time.”
“She mentioned she was sick years ago. Was it serious?” Paula delved into the box and came up with an eggcup in the shape of a baby duck. She handed it to Riley.
“Breast cancer. When she was only twenty-two. She almost didn’t survive.”
“Thank goodness she did. But what an awful thing to go through so young.”
“The worst part was, her fiancé couldn’t deal with it. He cancelled the wedding and took off on a surfing safari that lasted two years.” Riley hadn’t been much more support for her. His company had been called to Afghanistan when Katie was in her second round of chemotherapy
“That’s terrible. What a jerk.”
Riley wasn’t about to tell her she was talking about their sergeant. When John had abandoned Katie he’d burned Riley, too. They’d repaired their friendship, but it had been a long slow process that had taken years and a lot of persistence on John’s part.
Riley thrust thoughts of the past aside. Something was happening to him right here and now. His hands were shaking, making the ceramic eggcups he was holding clatter together. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. His heart started to race. Spots danced before his eyes.
It was happening again.
The eggcups were like frickin’ Kryptonite.
He dropped them into the box, grabbed the one out of her hand and stowed it, too. He had to get out of here before he fell apart in front of her a third time.
Riley folded the flaps on the box and tucked it under his arm. “I need to take off early today. Personal business. I’ll make up the time tomorrow.”
Paula followed him to the door. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“Later. I’ll call you.” Riley forced himself to walk, not run, to the exit. As soon as he hit the parking lot he broke into a jog.
He put the box in the trunk of his car, slid behind the wheel. Pain throbbed in his right temple like an enemy beating on the gate.
He punched Simone’s number on his cell. The call went to voice mail. Hell. “Simone, this is Riley Henning. I need an appointment. It’s kind of an emergency—”
“Hello, Riley,” Simone said, picking up. “
I had a cancellation. You can come in right now if that suits.”
Simone’s calm voice had never been so welcome. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
A short time later Riley was seated in front of the EMDR machine holding a brightly colored eggcup in each hand. He felt like a dick, but he’d had enough of this post-traumatic stress crap.
“How does this work again?” he asked. “I understand that I felt guilty as a kid over my mother dying. But as an adult I also understand I couldn’t have saved her. Why isn’t that enough to cure me?”
“It’s not that simple. Other factors may be acting upon your subconscious,” Simone explained. “EMDR works without you necessarily knowing the exact cause of the trauma.”
“You mean I may never know what’s at the bottom of the panic attacks?”
“With time we may get a better understanding. At the moment the main thing is to reduce your symptoms. We can explore your feelings about your mother’s death at the same time.”
It was all mumbo jumbo to Riley but he respected Simone’s expertise. “Whatever you say.”
“I want you to think about the last few weeks or months of your mother’s life,” Simone said, in her pleasant, hypnotic voice. “What was it like at home? Was your routine interrupted by hospital visits? Were you scared? Possibly you resented her for not having time for you, for her illness turning your life upside down.”
“I don’t know,” Riley said.
“Take a good look at the eggcups. Turn them over in your hands. Can you picture your mother using them? Perhaps washing them, putting them on the shelf.”
Riley gazed at the one in his right hand. The purple and yellow striped cup had been one of a pair. His mother’s favorites. “I broke one just like this. I dropped it on the floor.”
“Did your mother scold you?”
“No, she was understanding. If something went wrong, she always assumed my sister and I had tried our best. She rarely got angry.” He scrunched his eyes shut against a piercing pain in his frontal lobe. “My headache is getting worse.”
“Why do you think that is?” Simone asked.
“I—” Shame flooded him. “I broke it on purpose. I was angry with her. I can’t remember why— Wait, I can. She’d refused a third round of chemotherapy. Her prognosis wasn’t great. She wanted quality of life for her last months. I thought she was giving up. Giving up on her family. On me.” Thinking back now, he felt like a selfish child. “I thought breaking the eggcup would be the best way to hurt her.”
“Did it?”
He recalled her face, soft with love, raddled with pain. “Yes. I think she knew I did it on purpose but didn’t want to make me feel badly because she had so little time left.”
Simone flicked on the green light. It flashed on the left, then the right. “Follow the light with your eyes. What else?”
He leaned back in the chair and fixed his eyes on the sliding green light.
“The next day, I went to football practice after school. I wasn’t supposed to. I’d been told to come straight home and make sure she was okay, see if she needed anything. But I was still angry.” That anger welled up in him now, making his voice hoarse and raw. “She wasn’t trying her best!”
“So you got home late that night,” Simone said evenly. “Keep watching the light. Did something happen?”
“An ambulance was in our driveway as I turned into the street.” Flooded with anger, guilt and grief, for a moment he couldn’t speak. He could see the ambulance in his mind. “It was dusk. The lights weren’t flashing so I knew it wasn’t an emergency. But that was worse because it meant there was nothing they could do. She was taken to the hospital. I went with my dad and Katie in the car.”
“Did your father make you feel guilty about not being home?”
“No. He barely registered I was there. He was worried about my mother.” Riley’s breath caught in a sob. Tears blurred his eyes. “I—I wanted to say I was s-sorry to Mum.”
“Were you able to apologize at the hospital? Keep watching the light.”
He tried but it was like watching a traffic light through a rain-soaked windscreen. Pressure built in his chest. His words came out in short gasps. “I couldn’t… tell her anything. She was in a coma. She died the next day.” Riley broke down, hands over his face. “I couldn’t tell her I was sorry. I couldn’t tell her I loved her. I never in my entire life told my mother I loved her.”
“You were twelve, Riley. And a boy. In many families boys are raised not to show their emotions. Your father was emotionally reserved. Am I right?”
Riley nodded. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and kept his eyes focused on the flashing green light. It seemed to help distance his mind from what he was feeling. “We knew he loved us though even if he didn’t express it in words.”
“Just as your mother knew you loved her,” Simone said gently. “Mothers know that without being told.”
“I guess.” He took a long breath. Having reached a peak, the overwhelming emotions began to subside.
“She forgives you, Riley. Do you forgive her?”
Fresh tears leaked out. He felt Simone thrust a box of tissues into his hands. He grabbed a wad and blew his nose. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“I’m sure that’s what she would say about you. It’s okay to cry. It’s a sign of healing.”
With the tears he felt drained, exhausted. The pressure in his chest had eased but he still ached, as if he’d run a marathon.
Simone gave him a few minutes to compose himself, then said, “I think we made considerable progress today.”
Riley blinked, mopping at the last of the moisture. “Does that mean I’m cured?”
“Patience. Time will tell. But I believe you’re getting there.”
So he might or might not have another panic attack.
Riley booked another appointment for the following week. The process was painful but it was better than the alternative.
As he walked to his car he thought over how he’d behaved with Paula earlier. He should have simply told her about his symptoms. But she already thought he was too unstable for a long-term relationship. If he came clean, she might cut things short right now. He’d never get the chance to be the man he wanted to be with her. The man she and Jamie needed.
Hiding his symptoms was dishonest. It disconnected him from her. He wasn’t ready to talk about his treatment—not until he was sure his panic attacks were under control—but she deserved an apology for bite me and for the abrupt way he’d left.
He sat on the wrought-iron bench beneath the gum tree in the town square and called her cell. Her voice mail came on, so he dialed her office phone. When she didn’t pick up he started counting the rings. Seven, eight… He was about to hang up when she answered.
“Hello?”
“It’s Riley—”
“I can’t talk. I’m on the other line with Sally. She’s at the hospital emergency ward.” Paula sounded breathless and something else he’d never heard from her—scared out of her wits. “Chloe’s been attacked by a dog. Jamie’s been snatched.”
* * *
“SLOW DOWN, SALLY, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Paula paced her tiny office, picking up and putting down objects at random. Sally was hysterical and Paula could barely contain her own panic. “Take a deep breath, then let it all the way out. Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”
Sally sucked in a long lungful of air. Her words released in a rush on the exhalation. “We were in the front yard. I was weeding the garden. Jamie was playing with his cars. Chloe was on her ride-on toy in the driveway.”
“Keep breathing.” Paula pressed a hand to her diaphragm as a reminder to herself to do the same thing. Dizzy from lack of oxygen she sat, surprised to see a stap
ler in her hand. She set it down and picked up a pen. Taking notes made more sense. “Go on.”
“A car drove slowly by and parked halfway down the block. A man got out and started walking his dog, coming our way. I thought it was a bit odd to come to our street to walk a dog, but thought maybe he was visiting someone. Then I forgot about it because Jamie was telling me about the parking lot he was making and I told him not to drive into the flowers—” Sally let out a choked sob.
“It’ll be okay.” Paula heard the tremor in her voice and fought for control. “What happened next?”
“Suddenly the dog—a big black vicious looking thing—was loose.” Sally’s voice was high-pitched and thready. “H-he charged at Chloe. He attacked my baby. Oh, God, Paula, I was so scared. I thought she was going to be torn apart in front of my eyes. I ran at it with my trowel and hit him on the head and kicked him as hard as I could. He wouldn’t let go.” She broke down, crying. “He wouldn’t let go of her leg.”
“Sally, is Chloe all right?”
“The bite wasn’t deep, more of a scratch, really.” Sally sucked in another shuddering breath. “It’s a miracle she wasn’t killed. Her leg has been bandaged. We’re waiting for someone to give her a tetanus shot and take a blood sample for rabies.”
“Thank goodness she wasn’t hurt badly.” Paula heaved a sigh of relief. “And Jamie?”
Sally started weeping again. “While I was busy trying to get the dog off Chloe, the man must have grabbed him. He whistled for his dog. It let go of Chloe immediately and hopped into the rear of the station wagon. I yelled at the man, demanding he come back and see what his dog had done to my child. That’s when I saw Jamie in the backseat.”
Paula dropped her head and fought for breath. “Did you get the license plate number?”
“No. He just drove away. Fast.”
“Make and model?”
“It was white with one of those cages separating the backseat from the trunk area. It might have been a Ford. Or a Holden. Oh, Paula I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I ran after the car with Chloe in my arms. But it was going too fast. I—I saw Jamie turn his head and look at me.”
