Flame Out
Page 29
Dave stepped inside, grabbing me into a hug. “Aunt Natalya made her decision.” His breath was hot on my shoulder as he huddled closer. “She’s gone.”
We talked about how hard she’d fought to live, always on her own terms, right and wrong clear in her mind, unbreakable laws she applied to herself and everyone around her.
“It made her so strong,” Dave said. “But with what she did to Bernie and even the Judge . . . she was brutal, too. She deserved to go to trial, even go to prison for what she did . . . and she agreed.”
“Does Lucas know?” Mom asked.
The first week, Lucas had stayed by Natalya’s bedside nonstop. After that he’d started to go to the bar, keeping it open while Brian was in the hospital. When Dave nagged him about why, he shrugged. When I asked him, Lucas was more honest. “I can’t be around Dave right now. I don’t know where I belong.”
“He knows,” Dave said. “Refused to close the bar.”
Mom asked me for my computer, wanting to cancel her flight and stay with Dave, but he refused, telling her to keep her reservation. He’d taken a huge liking to my mother. Oddly, so had I. I found myself sorry that she was leaving and made promises to bring my father, Lucy, and even Dave down once school ended.
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that a lot. Or you could come on your own, June, for a few days. We could have a girls’ weekend.”
We burst out laughing. Neither of us were spa day types of people, me because I was too busy, and my mother because she considered nail polish remover an environmental crime.
“Maybe a weekend in the sunshine,” I said. “That would be nice.”
“You, too.” Mom grabbed Dave’s hand. “I’m planning to come up more often. Larry’s mother is still in a nursing home up here, and it would be nice to see my granddaughter.” She pushed my hair away from my forehead. “And my daughter.”
My father and Dave drove her to the airport. Dad returned alone. I was sitting at the dining room table coming up with a pro and con list.
“What’s that you got there?” he asked tentatively. Since our blow up, he had been trying not to pry into my professional life, but it was reaching absurd proportions, with him barely acknowledging I was a cop.
“This column,” I said, pointing to the one on the left, “is all the reasons to not rejoin the FBI.” I listed off the reasons, which included “Lucy,” “danger,” and “not enough black suits.”
He frowned—the “Lucy” item was upsetting him. I moved to the pro column.
“I also have good reasons to rejoin. I could do challenging work, stuff I spent years training for. I could make Kevin proud, since he always wanted me to be the best—Lucy, too.” I skimmed down the list. “Donnelly has offered to hold my job for six months, which means I have some job security.” Dad moved closer, trying to peek at the list, and I pulled it close. “And I know you will be there for Lucy the same way you were there for me when I was little. The same way you’re there for me now.”
Dad smiled. “Sounds like you have a tough decision to make. Maybe you should give Hale a call, hash it through with him.”
“I know what I want,” I said. “I’ve made up my mind.”
I dialed Hale’s number. The phone rang three then four times. I was ready to leave a message when Hale picked up.
“Bascom here,” he said.
“I’m in.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MANY PEOPLE HELPED ME CREATE THIS NOVEL. THANKS TO everyone at William Morrow: Rachel Kahan, my editor, for her instincts on story, editorial guidance, and expertise in botanicals; Trish Daly, for her attention to detail and unfailing support; and the entire team, including Ashley Marudas, Camille Collins, David Palmer, and Mandy Kain.
Thanks to all the people that lent their expertise in police procedure, legal defense, and the medical treatment of burn victims, including Amy Phillips and Stephen Frum. Any mistakes are all mine.
My writing group continues to challenge me to improve my writing, giving me critiques that are both incisive and kind. Special thanks to Kate Curry, Nita Gill, Tambi Harwood, Maggie King, and Lou Moore.
In addition to my readers, I received so much love and support from friends and family during this whole process: my mother, Maureen, and my sisters, Bridget and Mary; Michelle Ginthner, Kathy Riggins, Deane Shokes, Vicky Baron, and Rik Nicholson.
Finally, special thanks go to my agent, Lisa Gallagher. Her tireless advocacy for the books at every stage has been unmatched, and I really, truly couldn’t have done it without her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. P. COOLEY’s crime novel Ice Shear was named one of O, The Oprah Magazine’s Best Books of Summer 2014 and was called “an excellent debut” by Publishers Weekly in their starred review. A native of upstate New York, Cooley currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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ALSO BY M. P. COOLEY
Ice Shear
CREDITS
Cover design by Amanda Kain
Cover photograph © by Michael Marquand/Getty Images
Art on title page © by Trifonenko Ivan. Orsk
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from “Fancy” by Jehanne Dubrow reproduced from Prairie Schooner 84.4 (Winter 2010) by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright © 2010 by the University of Nebraska Press.
FLAME OUT. Copyright © 2015 by Martha Cooley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN: 978-0-06-230073-7
EPub Edition MAY 2015 ISBN 9780062300751
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