by Kelly Irvin
What he should do was take a meeting. “That all sounds nice. It would be nice to have you for company.”
The concern on her face faded, replaced by uncertainty. “I need to go home. You’re better off not hanging around me.”
“Not in a million years.”
A steady stream of pedestrians flowing around them, they sat on the curb on a busy downtown intersection, staring at each other.
She broke the deadlock first. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”
A woman wearing a hijab pushed a stroller past them. Two small girls trailed after her. He schooled his voice. “I told Billy I’d get you home.”
“Billy doesn’t tell me or you what to do.”
“In this case he’s right. You need backup.”
Teagan stood and picked up her satchel. “I’m tired. I’m headed home to make some fresh iced peppermint tea. I’ll sit on my back porch and watch the cardinals play hide-and-seek in the trees. The goldfinches will complain because the squirrels keep emptying the feeder. The hummingbirds will buzz the honeysuckle and the snapdragons. I won’t think about anything else.”
But she would. And so would he. “I’ll follow you.”
“Don’t.” The stubborn jut of her jaw said the conversation was over.
Surely his face told her it wasn’t. “I’m walking you to your car.”
She whirled and started toward the garage. With a limp.
Lord, couldn’t we be allowed to curse once in a while? I’d love a free pass now and then.
Not allowed. Max silently counted to ten and hurried to catch up. His left arm ached. A patch of skin burned on his hand. The muscles on the left side of his body hurt.
None of that mattered. He’d hurt Teagan. He slid his arm into hers. “Let me help you, please.”
“If it makes you feel better.”
They were silent for the rest of the trek to her blue Prius with its nondescript body and modest frame. She opened the door and looked back at him. “Text me later?”
“Are you sure you don’t want company?” Not even my company?
“I have Tigger. I have a state-of-the-art security system.” She opened her door.
Come on, come on. Let me in. Please let me in.
She turned. The satchel dropped to the ground. Her arms came up, and he stepped into the hug. Her scent reminded him of rain on a spring day—fig, grass, and green musk. “I don’t like what this is doing to you,” she whispered. “I don’t want my friends hurt. Consider staying away for a while, please.”
“A friend has your back. He doesn’t run away. There’s nothing in the world that would keep me away from you.” He leaned back so he could see her face. “Get that through your beautiful head right now. I stick like Velcro to my friends. I don’t bail when things get tough. You’ve been there for me, remember.”
He didn’t like it, but Teagan had insisted he put her on his list of people to call when he found himself hanging from the ledge by his fingertips. One drink. One shot of tequila with a beer chaser. Anything to dull that persistent thirst that made it hard to swallow against the pain of simply existing from one day to the next.
He’d only had to call her once. And then it had made his stress worse, not better. He didn’t want her to see the cracks in his facade. She should see him as fixed, the outer finish completely smooth after years of sobriety.
Every drunk knew the cracks were still there. Waiting to burst under the pressure of the floodwaters. He could blame bloody, grotesque memories of what he’d seen in Afghanistan—young men and women blown to pieces by roadside bombs and IEDs—or he could admit that the seed was already there waiting to be watered. No excuses needed.
“You just experienced your first PTSD flashback in years.” She drilled him with the O’Rourke stare, knowing full well it had no effect on him. His mother was Italian. “You need to call your therapist and your sponsor.”
“You don’t need to mother me.”
“You’re my best friend, Max. I’m entitled to meddle in your life. You certainly meddle in mine. If I feel like taking care of you, I will.”
The knot in his throat ballooned. He swallowed hard. Who was comforting whom here? Or was it who? “You’re my best friend too. If you would just let me in—”
“Don’t. Please don’t.” Teagan broke free and slid into the car.
Max didn’t wait for her to drive away. He didn’t wait for the elevator, either. He darted to the stairwell, raced down four flights of stairs, and jaywalked across Nueva to the lot where he’d parked his pickup.
Three minutes later he wheeled into traffic and turned onto Flores and headed toward South St. Mary’s. A creature of habit, Teagan would take South St. Mary’s to Alamo Street and be at her house on Simon Street in a matter of minutes. Still early, traffic was light. He picked up her trail before she made it to Alamo Street.
It only took him a minute or two to realize that he wasn’t the only one following her. Justin’s unmarked Crown Vic edged into the turn lane ahead of him.
Max beat a rhythm on the wheel to Zach Williams’s “Chain Breaker.” Justin didn’t trust Max. Why should he? Once he heard about the fiasco in the middle of a busy San Antonio intersection, he would never let Max hear the end of it. A familiar dry ache burned his throat.
He grabbed his water bottle from the seat and removed the lid. The lukewarm water did nothing to slake his thirst. He picked bits of gravel from the raw patch on the palm of his hand, focusing on the pain instead of the rising thirst.
Ignoring the whisper in his ear that sounded like one of his high school buddies who worked with him at a fast-food joint on Bandera Road and who provided Max with his first six-pack and a dime bag, he glanced in his rearview mirror. Billy’s unmarked unit tailed him.
A regular caravan. Teagan would be so irritated.
She called them the cop squad.
He pulled onto Simon Street. Dillon’s blue Charger sat under the carport next to her Prius.
Really irritated.
A serial killer was stalking her.
Enough said.
12
They meant well.
Teagan repeated these three words like a mantra as she stood on her small cement porch, arms crossed, body aching from Max’s bruising tackle. They meant well, but a line existed between a simple, caring hug and actual suffocation. Dad sat in his Charger, a phone to his ear. Justin and Billy sandwiched Max’s blue-and-white Ford between their PD vehicles. The three of them converged on the yard at the same time. Nobody looked happy. The abrasive stench of testosterone overpowered the light mingled scent of honeysuckle and snapdragons. A ruby-throated hummingbird whirred away, no doubt frightened by the stomp of men feet across the stamp-sized green St. Augustine lawn. It was so small, she cut it with a Weed Eater instead of a mower.
“Seriously? Did all y’all have to come?” She turned her back on them, intent on unlocking her door. Tigger’s ecstatic bark greeted her before she could open it. “I’m planning to take a nap. You can stay out here and talk about me behind my back.”
Dad’s hand stilled hers. She glanced up. Her father’s expression warned her. “What?”
“Let us have a look around first, why don’t you?”
“The alarm is on. And even if it wasn’t, do you think Tigger would let a stranger in my house?”
“Call me overly cautious.”
Leaving the key in the lock, she backed away. The men paraded in front of her. Her very own cadre of bodyguards. If it weren’t so ridiculous, she’d laugh.
“Come on in.”
Billy gave her the go-ahead after the thirty seconds it took to clear her 1,510 square-foot abode. Tigger’s happy squeals broadcast her delight at visits from so many of her favorite men friends in one fell swoop. Traitor.
Teagan tugged off her pumps and padded into the house. Tigger dragged herself away from Billy’s noogies and romped toward Teagan, fifty pounds of pure muscle and puppy love. “I’m surprised you even saw me
here.” Teagan hugged and petted her and submitted to Tigger’s thorough face licking. “You are a fickle girl, aren’t you?”
Tigger at her side, Teagan moved to the breakfast nook and deposited her satchel on the table that also served as her desk. “I have iced tea and water. Someone start talking while I serve. You’re supposed to be out there finding Leo Slocum.”
“Either.” Dad’s phone dinged. He thumbed the screen and studied it for a few seconds. “Anyway, here’s the plan. Billy, can you get back to Corpus PD? Find out if he had any visitors since he was transferred down there? Justin, can you do the same here? Who visited him before or during the trial? I’m touching base with my old partner and the legal team that prosecuted Slocum. Let’s find out if he had any admirers who might be upset with how the trial turned out.”
“Why does this guy want to pick on T . . . ?” Billy’s voice trailed off.
“I’m guessing it has to do with me.” Dad placed his phone facedown on the table, leaned back, and crossed his beefy arms. “She’s my daughter. What faster way to cut a father to the quick?”
The unspoken words knocked into each other as they filled the small nook and overflowed into the cozy kitchen. Everyone in the room knew Teagan and her dad had a contentious relationship. He was the center of her world for the first nine years of her life. Then Mom died. Their world shrank to just the two of them. Making PB and Js and chocolate milk with Hershey’s syrup for supper. Sleeping on the couch in front of a fire in the fireplace. Watching Mom’s favorite romcoms until dawn.
Then twelve months later, he’d done the unforgivable. He’d married again. Instead of pining away for Mom, he’d married a divorced personal trainer and health fanatic with three kids.
“Maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with you, Dad.” Teagan ventured into the sudden silence. “Maybe some defendant in my courtroom spent too much time staring at me during his trial. He’s fixated on me. He followed the Slocum case and is using the details to send us down a rabbit trail.”
“You were the one who said no one pays attention to the court reporter,” Justin pointed out. “How does he know about the letters?”
“All the same, in the interest of thoroughness, go through your records, see if anyone pops.” Dad’s gaze glossed over all the underlying tension. “Billy and Justin can run down the ones who aren’t in prison or who just got out of prison and decided to get a little payback. You can bring your laptop with you to the house.”
“You don’t understand how this works. I need to go back to the courthouse and go through my hard files. That will jog my memory regarding any cases where a defendant might have some bizarre behavior or whatever that might circle back to this scenario. That will give me a name, case number, and date. Then I can pull the archived materials if we need the entire court record.”
“We’re better off pursuing the copycat angle.” Max’s statement fell into the silence after her explanation. No one wanted her to go back to the courthouse.
Dad grunted his agreement in that he-man way that always amused Mom. “Tomorrow. Right now you’re headed to the house as soon as you pack a bag.”
“No, I am not.”
“Guys, why don’t you give us the room.”
Max shifted. “T—”
“It’s okay.” Dad was right. Better to have this discussion without an audience. “Give us a minute.”
“I’ll take Tigger for a walk around the block, but I’ll be right back.”
Max’s tone made it a promise. Ignoring her dad, Teagan smiled at Max. “She’ll love you forever for that.”
Max squeezed her arm and moved past her chair. Billy and Justin meandered down the hall, likely headed for the front porch and less emotionally charged air.
Teagan slid into a chair across from her father. “You know I haven’t spent a night in your house since I turned eighteen and graduated from high school.”
He would get her emphasis on the word your. It had once been Mom’s house. A rambling three-bedroom fixer-upper on San Antonio’s northwest side. Dad had added two bedrooms when he married Jazz. The wooden fort and swing set they built as a family still stood in the enormous backyard beneath the shade of a dozen live oaks, mountain laurels, mulberry trees, and burr oaks. Mom’s roses covered a trellis along the deck where they’d barbecued steaks for him and turkey burgers for Teagan.
In the summer the yellow finches, cardinals, blue jays, and mourning doves flocked to the feeders. Hummingbirds buzzed each other in territory fights. A cadre of squirrels took turns swinging from the feeder that held black sunflower seeds, determined to get their share of the manna from heaven. Tent sleepovers with her friends under his watchful gaze had occurred in that backyard. He’d taught her to catch a baseball and hit in that backyard.
Now he lived there with a woman who went by Jazz even though her driver’s license indicated her name was Deborah. She still taught Pilates, spinning, and Jazzercise at the gym where she and Dad had met.
“I talked to Jazz. She thinks it’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care—”
“Careful what you say, sweetheart. You’re too nice a person. You know you’ll only regret it later.” He splayed his fingers across the table and fixed her with an earnest stare. “She’s decided to do a girl’s weekend in Vegas with her sisters and their friends. They’re leaving for the airport in a few minutes. They won’t be back until Sunday.”
Read between the lines. He expected to end this nightmare in the next three days. “And what did your wife say about me bringing my dirty dog into her clean house?”
Jazz was a germophobe. Not that she cleaned house, but she did use Dad’s hard-earned dollars to employ a cleaning lady. When Dolly, their sweet Lab, died of old age the year after the wedding, there had been no talk of adopting a new puppy.
“The cleaning lady comes on Mondays to clean house.”
“Good timing.”
“This isn’t about the house. It’s about you and your safety.”
“I have my own house. I have security. I have a pit bull.”
“Who loves everyone who walks through the door.” He smoothed back his ruffled hair. His wedding band was silver instead of the gold he’d worn representing his love for his first wife. “Tigger wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
“She would if someone was hurting me.”
“We’re not having this argument. Get your bag packed.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Only her dad could make her feel ten again. “Don’t you have enough to worry about with your stepkids—the ones who followed in your footsteps?”
The words dropped like stones.
A deep-red flush burned across his face. His fingers tightened into fists, then slowly straightened again. His deep sigh filled the silence. “Just because Billy and Gracie chose to become police officers doesn’t mean I love them more. I would’ve been okay if they’d decided to do something else, something safe, but I want them to be happy. Being police officers makes them happy, so it makes me happy.”
Because he chose to ignore the risk involved, just as he’d done in his own career, never acknowledging the toll it took on those who loved him. “Does Jazz make you happy?”
“You never gave her a chance.”
“You sprang her on me. You came home one day and introduced me to a stranger and told me she was moving her family into our house. She changed everything. Even the yellow gingham kitchen curtains Mom made with the rickrack on the bottom.” Tears choked Teagan. She swallowed them. “Did you really think making me share a room with a stranger would make the transition easier?”
She closed her mouth. Why was all this coming out now? Now that she was the one in danger. All these years of walking on thin ice to keep the peace. As an only child, she’d lived in her own world. She spent long summer afternoons in the hammock in the backyard, reading book after book. She loved her quiet, small, close-knit family of three.
“Jazz tried. She thought freshening up the place wou
ld remind me less of your mother.” His voice turned hoarse. “It was a dark time for me, too, but Jazz and her kids brought light back into the house. Noise and laughter and craziness. And she loves me, which never ceases to amaze me. She’s not your mother, but no one could be. I didn’t replace your mom. It couldn’t be done.”
Shame tightened like a noose around Teagan’s neck. Dad deserved to be happy. Mom would’ve wanted that. Teagan knew that. She’d always known it. What she couldn’t understand was the choice of a woman the polar opposite of his first wife. A woman who preferred Thai takeout or sushi to cooking. A woman who wore skinny jeans and tank tops and pierced her nose on a whim. “I still miss Mom,” she whispered.
“Me too. I never forgot your mother. I never stopped loving her.” Dad managed a wan smile. “But I had room in my heart for another love. Maybe someday you’ll understand that.”
“I do understand it. I do. I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you. Leyla’s home from law school. She’d love to see you.”
The youngest Evans-O’Rourke had chosen law instead of the academy. As long as she became a prosecutor and not a defense attorney, her siblings might eventually stop giving her guff about it.
A headache that started behind her ears and thudded in her temples made it hard to think. Teagan rubbed her neck with both hands. “It might be better if she went back to Austin until this is over.”
“The lease on the apartment she shared with her friends is up. They’re looking for something better—cheaper, in other words—but it’s a quick visit. She’s got an internship at a law firm for the summer.”
Too many people to keep safe. “My being at the house puts her in danger.”
“I’m at the house.” Dad’s hand went to the Glock on his hip. When he retired, he returned to his favorite weapon, eschewing the new Smith & Wesson SAPD officers now carried. “Billy and Gracie will be around. She’s safe. You’re safe.
“One other thing.” He swiped the air with his index finger as if to give his words weight. “I have all my personal case files on Slocum at the house. You could go through them. Maybe you’ll see something I don’t.”
