It was a question Mo had had in the back of her mind during her days with Zack. To be a cop’s lover? The possibility of marriage had not entered her mind knowing how far removed their worlds were from each others. She had wondered what it would be like to be with Zack, live with Zack. But marriage as an option was impossible. How could they even live together? A long distance relationship? She’d seen the toll that had taken on other performers. She almost chuckled at the idiocy she was entertaining. Yet like a tic quivering in the corner of her eye the question of how one could cope living with a man who could walk out the door and never return had bugged her insistently.
Now she thought she was in love. But she also knew she had been living a fantasy. They both had had a respite from traumatic events in their lives. Once again reality had come back with a burning vengeance. The hardest thing of all, the most painful had been the words most people would find the ultimate joy to hear. “God, I love you.” Said in dazed reaction. The words had sounded so wholly authentic, without expectation that she would respond in kind or try to comfort him with words she’d said herself but could not have spoken aloud. Could her words have entered his sub conscience as he slept? Had he known what he was saying?
Throwing back the unruly bedclothes Mo realized that the idea of real sleep was a fantasy as well. She drifted in and out of a doze never truly falling asleep as a torrent of thoughts seemed to tap at her as persistently as the drip of a leaking faucet.
A shout. Angry, righteous and vehement broke into her dreams. “Hey! I’m gonna call the police! Hey, Lady!”
Then loud knocks. Did somebody…Is Zack…
Mo staggered to the door. “What…What is it? Who are you?”
“Hey, Lady. We live two doors down. There was someone on the terrace. On Zack’s terrace. You okay?” A goateed man and a disheveled woman peered into the dark opening.
She cracked the door wider and realized she had not secured the chain. “I’m sorry…what?”
“We saw on the news. We didn’t want to bother you when you came back.”
Mo looked at the two young people and recognized the odor she noticed from the terrace.
“Look, there was someone out there. I was… out on my terrace and I heard something. I looked over and there was a man. A man standing on the terrace and looking in the door!” The woman put her hand on his shoulder. He was obviously shaken.
“Come in.” She hit a switch and turned and looked at the terrace door. How could someone climb up that high? The breeze had soothed her somewhat and she’d left the door open just like Zack always seemed to. The couple came in and looked around.
“I heard Steve shout. I didn’t see anything.” The woman said.
“He went over the rail, over the rail when I shouted, I swear to god!”
“You must have been dreaming. I think he fell asleep on the terrace and dreamed it. Steve, come on, you can’t be waking people up in the middle of the night with your crazy dreams. He has some of the craziest dreams. You should hear how he talks in his sleep.” She yanked at the sleeve of his T-shirt.
“Wait. Please wait. Detective…Zack is in the hospital.” She went to the open sliding glass door and flipped the switch. The single bulb dimly lit the small terrace. The couple went over to the door and watched her as she looked around. “What did you see?” she asked looking over the rail.
“I heard a noise and looked over. I knew Zack was in the hospital from the news. We heard you, figured it was you, come in. Saw the light was on earlier. It was someone all in black I think. Hard to see. Tall, I think, or maybe just seemed like it. It was so quick! Couldn’t see a face. But I could tell it was a man. I shouted and he went over the rail. Just like that! Right there where it meets the wall.” He pointed to the rail furthest away from his own terrace. Mo looked down. The Rosemary plant Zack had picked out at the grocery store had been knocked over. Could have been the wind. When she looked more closely she could barely make out a pattern in the dirt. A partial footprint.
Mo sat in the dark gazing at the sliding glass door to Zack’s terrace. She had called Tyler in the middle of the night and he’d sent a cruiser over with two uniformed to keep a watch on the terrace. Her next call had been to Les Moore, head of her security team. The dormant security crew was called back into action and on their way. A detective was on his way to investigate the footprint. Steve had gotten a Styrofoam cooler to cover the spilled dirt to prevent the wind blowing the clue away. The young couple, Steve and Marlene, had finally succumbed to exhaustion and Mo’s insistence she’d be fine. Just don’t smoke on your terrace she had joked, since the place was crawling with cops.
“You go to hotel now!” Roddy had shouted into the phone. Moore had called him. “Security take you. I leave New York two hours!
“Not until I see Zack. I’ll be there for rehearsal this afternoon.” She looked at the clock. Six twenty.
“You must practice. You must rehearse. Zack not want you to miss job.” Roddy felt deeply for Mo and Zack. He had learned of Zack’s shooting very late the night before. His first impulse had been to call Mo. But he figured she’d need the rest. With irritation she realized he was right. But she wasn’t going anywhere until she had to. And when would she sleep?”
The security guys had arrived at Zack’s condo and sized up the situation. She’d been shacked up with the very cop who had referred them to Mr. D’Mario. She had ditched them at the airport and inconvenienced them to no end in order to chase the guy down who had taken a walk on his job protecting her. Go figure.
They checked out the condo which should have been easy to secure. They looked down over the terrace rail and shook their heads. Few people could make that climb. Fewer could do it at night. They had watched the detective photograph the footprint and make a plastic mold of it. They’d accepted coffee and settled in to await Mo’s next move.
She locked the door to the bedroom when she finally thought she could sleep for a couple hours. It was a fitful sleep. She felt very alone without Zack there. It was an entirely new sensation for her to miss someone the way she was missing him. After just a few nights she had become so used to his presence in bed she didn’t think she could sleep without him. No one had ever become so important to her or to her sense of well being. She had drifted into that broken slumber with bits and pieces of Zack and rivers and fire drifting disturbingly in her mind.
Morning news was all about the shooting. All about Zack and Al and the bust. Speculation was rife. Bull Shaughnessy, who many had bet would be the next chief of police, busted for drugs and charged with murder. Now Zack’s former partner was in the headlines once again as well. Lyons and Shaughnessy were each pointing their finger at the other. Who had murdered Ray Pollack? Was Zack finally vindicated? Questions about the prior day’s big drug bust had arisen with Duke Washington putting on a great performance about how it all had gone down.
The tape from Joliet Airport was put in evidence and had immediately been leaked to the press. The cooperative young man who had dropped to the floor inside the warehouse verified that Bull had shot Rosalie Villareal. Bull had tried to claim Rosalie had been shot by Zack Burnham. He had apparently forgotten years of ballistic science and several witnesses.
Mo rubbed her eyes and swallowed more coffee. She had already been on the phone with Tyler, the man who could get answers from the hospital. Zack was in stable condition, had spent a restful night and might be released in a few days. It was thrilling for Mo to hear. The security guys had had a time convincing her that going to the hospital at eight in the morning would be a waste of time. She decided on a run to clear her head and donned the clothes she had arrived at Zack’s in several days before.
There was a chilly early September snap that was invigorating to Mo and should have taken some of the fog out of her mind. But her mind was a confusion of worried and conflicting thoughts. She felt a little ridiculous with the car trailing her as she ran toward the lake. She sucked in a breath and held it, as she did automatic
ally when she passed the gas station. She had told Zack her performance during the robbery hadn’t been exactly her best. He had assured her she had done better than most. How could they have that guy in a cell for days and not be able to identify him? Had the robbery really been his first stupid move as a career criminal? Thank God now all would be resolved. And when Zack got out of the hospital…She knew the thought she had in mind would be resisted. How she would do it was what she didn’t know.
Mo wanted to spend as much time with Zack as possible. There was no question of getting any time off. How could she possibly leave Zack in his condition? In two to three weeks, it still wasn’t settled, the show would be moving on to Washington D.C. Quitting wasn’t an option. She had a contract. Lots of money on the line. More than that, she would be letting down everyone connected with the show. While many would understand her feelings, it would create enormous difficulties if she left the show. Roddy would go ballistic then be fine. Luciana could do the show; she’d have to get in shape. No, Mo realized there was no way Luciana could do the show. No one did what she did and Deb wouldn’t be ready to take completely over for a while. If ever. And Claude, she had been told, said he refused to work with what he considered an inferior performer. She couldn’t let them close the show because of her. The other option, that Zack go to D.C. with her, and leave Chicago, seemed too far removed from the realm of possibility to contemplate. She couldn’t help but contemplate it. She couldn’t stop herself.
Somehow she’d have to finish the extended show. She could only hope something would work out because she couldn’t leave Zack. Not in his condition. Of all the questions that had arisen, the ones foremost in her mind were left unanswered. Would she and Zack be together? Should they be? How could they possibly work that out? What did they want, for themselves and for each other? She wanted to be with him. Yet they’d known each other for such a short time. They’d been lovers in suspension of their normal lives for a few short days.
Every time reality had reared its head it had been ugly and demoralizing. Could they function together outside the dream world they had created? Could their love be real having only been expressed in flashes of heat and passion? Had the cold eye of reality blinked their dream world away?
She wanted to run along the lakefront but bearing in mind the car following her she turned at the drive and headed north for a while then made west for State Street. She slowed her pace when she realized the security team was having trouble in the morning traffic. Roosevelt was its usual wind tunnel when she hit it to go to Indiana with another wary glance at the gas station. The boys, as she thought of them, were able to keep up on Indiana so she sprinted toward the condo.
Since all the action had been much further south and at the hospital it never occurred to Mo that the press would show up at Zack’s condo. She hadn’t seen their picture in the paper earlier that week after the robbery. She didn’t know there was already speculation about their relationship. She pulled the hood up on her sweatshirt and hoped to look like just another resident of the condo. Then it occurred to her to go to the side of the building and take the freight elevator. It would give the boys a chance to park.
She rounded the corner of the building and found even more press waiting. She pulled her lips tight in a grimace of annoyance. “Ms. Whitman, Ms. Whitman.” They called out to her. “Abby Dorfman, CINC. Is it true you’re involved with suspended police detective, Zachary Burnham?” Other reporters shouted questions at the same time. “Are you living here with Zachary Burnham? Do you have information on yesterday’s bust? Is there any truth to what Bryan Lawrence Shaughnessy says that Zachary Burnham was involved in drug dealing with Raymond Pollack?” She was about to key the door as the boys came up when she heard the last question. They had started to block the photographers snapping away and reporters yelling questions. But Mo put her hand up as they tried to whisk her into the door. She turned to the reporters. Wisps of hair blew from her braid. Her cheeks were flushed with the run and the cool air. Her eyes flashed with anger. She peeled the hood off her head.
“Zack Burnham is a decent, caring man who almost paid with his life to help bring down a corrupt cop and solve the murder of his partner. He and I are close friends. I know you’re just doing your job but the least you could do is gather the facts and not report wild speculation based on the words of a murderer. I can’t tell you the full story. I wasn’t there. I’m sure Mr. Burnham will make a statement when he’s able to though I guess this is still all an ongoing investigation. Please leave him, and me, in peace.” She turned to go in.
“Ms. Whitman, is it true you’re still a suspect in Ling Wong’s murder?”
“You’ll have to ask Al Simpson, Greendale police, about that. After the way I talked to him yesterday I’m probably going to be charged with every unsolved murder in Greendale history. All, well there can’t be that many.” They all laughed. “Look, there’s George Travers, Zack’s friend over at the Veteran’s Museum. He knows everything that goes on around here. Go inside with your cameras and ask him. Bet he knows something.”
“I’ve never seen George look so happy. Look there’s that painting I’d want to buy, remember? That guy in West Virginia. George better make the most of his fifteen.” Zach sat up in bed with a pinched look of pain but a smile in his eyes. “I’m sorry they dragged you into this. But George isn’t. It’s the most free publicity he’s gotten for the museum in years!” He brushed his fingers over Mo’s. “You didn’t get enough sleep. Did you worry about me all night long or did you just miss having me to use any way you want?” He squeezed her hand giving her a sultry narrowing of his eyes.
“I see all that fresh blood went right to your head.” She pressed her lips against his temple. With his left hand he raised her hand to his lips.
“So to speak.” He pressed her palm against his cheek. “Funny what you can think of when you wake up in the middle of the night. Around here they set the clock so they can come in and interrupt your sleep every five minutes. And with everything going on, Mo, all I could do was hope you’d come today.”
“I told you I would. Didn’t you believe me?” she stroked his head.
“Yeah, but you have a show tonight…” He blew out a blast of air and looked at the television. “You’ll be glad to see the last of Chicago I bet.”
“I love this city. It has the most interesting characters. And great looking police. Some of whom are one and the same.” She cupped his chin and brushed his lips.
“I knew you just liked me for my looks. What time do you have to go out to Greendale?” He said between light kisses.
“About three. We need to rehearse since it’s been days. I wish you could be there.” She felt a little rockslide internally as if she could feel their make believe world crumbling.
“Me too.” He looked at her. Then past her to the security guy peeking in the window. I’m glad you got them to come down. I wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
“Les Moore’s on the job again. Roddy sends his best and is going to come down tomorrow. He’d come today but first day back and all.” Mo seemed nervous. His last report had been great. He’d be out Sunday. Monday at the latest. Of course he wouldn’t be able to go back to work for weeks if not months. Zack eyed Mo’s face. She looked tired and ill at ease. What else? What there something she wasn’t telling him?
“I’m going to be fine Mo. I know you’ve been through a lot. I wish you would get more rest. You’ve got to stop pining for my hard, insatiable body and try to sleep.”
“I’ll try. Especially since your hard, insatiable body isn’t much use to me right now.”
He pulled her hand under the sheet. “Wanna bet? You just climb up here and…”
“Time to change your bandage, Mr. Burnham!” A short, dark skinned nurse interrupted with a cheerful tone. “Would you mind waiting outside?” she said to Mo with a knowing look.
Zack lay thinking while the TV provided company he didn’t pay attention to. He was already sick o
f the brouhaha and just wanted to be left alone. With Mo. He had asked Mo to spend her brief respite with him and now that time was at an end. The pain in his body was forgotten as a nascent discomfort grew in his chest. It had been planted as that niggling seed of doubt he’d kept shoving deep inside. Now choices would have to be made. He wasn’t exactly in the best condition to be making them. He had sensed something wrong despite her displays of affection. Of course all this was yet another trauma. Many people would have buckled by now. She was an incredibly strong woman.
But there was not only the matter of their entirely different lives to consider. Even if she wanted to stay, which she couldn’t, she’d now seen firsthand what could happen in his line of work. He thought about Patricia Tyler and how he’d taken things out of her hands. It had been right, but it had been wrong. He had taken the course he believed in at the time. He had wanted to be a cop more than anything. Patricia said she could live with it but she’d figured on her Daddy pulling his career strings. No. He hadn’t just decided for her. Being young and stupid he’d framed his decision in the words he thought might ease both their hurts but there were no right words and Patricia had hated him for the decision he had made. He had offered to marry her once he was through with college. Nothing but immediate marriage was adequate for her and he had been relieved that she wasn’t willing to wait. The truth was he realized that while they were too young to be contemplating a lifelong commitment, he had not been too young to realize he’d have been swallowed by the force of her father’s ambitions.
He thought about Chelsea. He had been attracted to her ice queen beauty and her uptown manners. They’d met through her cousin, the equestrian officer he and Mo had run into who worked out at the same gym. She was attracted to his looks and the fact that her parents would certainly not approve of a backa the Yards street cop. But he had gone to college. He had also been interested in the rapidly booming security business. He’d taken some law courses. Perhaps she could talk him out of being a cop and into Daddy’s firm. It had had its appeal. But Zack’s father had blustered about the family tradition, and college wusses. When the old man had been arrested, Chelsea distanced herself as far as she could from the scandal and Dad had died soon after. So Zack had taken the Detective exam as a compromise and lived a lie in a marriage to a woman who fled from revulsion whenever he went anywhere near her. He worked more and more, she spent more time at her father’s firm as a patent attorney.
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