by CJ Lyons
They reached the elevator and hit the call button. “Will you let me know—” Leah started but wasn’t certain how to finish. She didn’t have the right to pry into Luka’s career problems, but she also wanted to be there for him if he needed anything.
Harper shifted her feet. “Any internal investigation will be confidential.”
“So there’s nothing we can do to help Luka?” Leah hated the idea of standing by, doing nothing. It went against every fiber of her being.
“Didn’t say that, doc.” Harper’s posture straightened as if she’d decided to take a chance on Leah, despite Leah being a civilian. Or more likely, she simply wasn’t about to turn down anyone who could help Luka. “I’ll call you if I think of anything.”
“Thanks, Harper.”
Twenty-Six
Luka reached Ahearn’s office just as the commander was leaving for the night. At first, Ahearn was irate—he’d been heading out to a black tie charity event, was already in his tux—but as soon as Luka painted the broad strokes of the turn of events, he’d grown quiet, sat back down in his desk chair and gestured for Luka to take a seat. “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”
Ahearn listened attentively, asking a few questions—often the same questions Luka also wanted answers to—and jotting the occasional note. It reminded Luka that the commander was also a detective once.
Luka finished his recitation of the facts. He hadn’t included his theories or suspicions—the situation was complicated enough already. It didn’t matter that Luka had nothing to do with Cherise’s death. Until they were able to prove that, the mere suspicion would allow defense attorneys to question Luka’s integrity—which could be twisted to create reasonable doubt in a jury’s mind. Chaos involving Luka in his web of deceit could lead to every case Luka had been a part of being reexamined and picked apart by rapacious attorneys. All the good he’d done since Cherise’s death could be unraveled, guilty men walking free again.
“The press will have a field day with this,” was Ahearn’s first conclusion, defaulting to his role of administrator. “You can be damn sure Chaos will alert them, chum the waters to create a feeding frenzy. We have no choice but to investigate every avenue—including re-opening your fiancée’s case. I’ll put in a call to the Lewisburg PD as soon as we’re done here.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Ahearn’s forehead creased, his gaze sharp as he scrutinized Luka. “I’m not sure you do. In this scenario you’re the chum and the press and public are going to eat you alive. There’s nothing the press loves more than a crooked cop to crucify. You prepared for that, Detective Sergeant? Because we can’t be seen as favoring one of our own—at least not to the public. But please know, off the record, you have the department’s full support.”
“Thank you, sir.” Luka couldn’t help but wonder if learning doublespeak was mandatory once you reached his rank.
“There’s nothing to thank me for. There’s no way in hell I’m letting some pissant coward who throws little old ladies off balconies use a tragedy from one of my people’s past to derail an investigation. This guy is not getting away with it, I promise you that.”
It was a promise they both knew Ahearn couldn’t keep, but still, Luka appreciated the sentiment.
The commander took a breath, tapped his pen against the notes he’d taken. “You said Saliba refused to hand over her electronics.”
“Best I could do was get her to allow our cyber squad to monitor her computer remotely. We need a warrant to do more.”
“Damn right we need a warrant. Not just for her computer. For all her electronics.”
“I have Krichek working on it. I left Harper at the Falconer to monitor the situation.” Luka had also texted Krichek a list of other high priority items, since he was now in charge of the Saliba investigation until Ahearn appointed someone to fill in for Luka.
“Good. This is going to be a multi-jurisdictional nightmare. Have we heard anything from the NYPD on the courier or the agent?”
“Dominic Massimo. No.”
“Massimo. Right. Does he have an alibi or not? Is he coming in for an interview?”
“I came to you straight away, didn’t want to possibly taint any aspect of the case by conducting a formal interview with Massimo.”
Ahearn nodded. “Right. We’ll get him in tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re off this case, but not suspended or under investigation. As of now, you are a cooperating witness. I want a firewall between you and anything to do with this case—one so thick and impenetrable that no fast-talking defense attorney can tear it down in court, suggest that you were given special treatment or imply that you might be responsible for any of this. Understand, Detective Sergeant?”
His tone made it clear that the discussion was over. Luka stood at attention and nodded. “Yes, sir, Commander. You have my full cooperation.”
“Good. Go home, get your affairs in order before the vultures descend. Then first thing tomorrow, I want you here for an official interview with the assistant DA, myself, and Sergeant McKinley. If you want your union rep or an attorney present, that is certainly your right. But as a witness, not a suspect, I expect you to cooperate fully and answer every question put to you.” His tone made it clear that Luka had no choice. “Will that be a problem, Detective Sergeant?”
“No, sir.” Luka was agreeing to have the most painful time of his life flayed open and dissected, but if he wanted to both save his career and help catch Cherise’s killer, it was his only option.
“Good. Go. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.” Ahearn waved a hand in dismissal.
Luka hesitated. This case—no, these cases, were spiraling out of control. Exactly what Chaos wanted. Someone had to fight back, look beyond the path the killer was leading them down. “Sir.” He stopped. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Luka left Ahearn’s office and headed down the steps to the investigative floor. He needed to start fresh, be objective, follow the facts not his feelings. It was what he’d struggled to do after Cherise’s death, until his overwhelming grief forced him to abandon his poet’s instincts and embrace a cop’s cold, hard logic.
At his office, he packed his personal possessions into a box so that McKinley could use his desk since the ERT leader didn’t have an office on this floor. Luka could run his other open cases from anywhere. Then he dictated his reports for the day, including his final meeting at Risa Saliba’s apartment. It felt surreal, objectively reporting on an event that he’d become personally involved in. It was as if he was talking about someone else’s life, not his own.
He remembered the very first time he’d met Leah Wright. It was a few hours after she’d found her husband murdered; he’d interviewed her in her daughter’s hospital room. At the time he’d marveled at her calm and control, the way she clearly and concisely answered his questions. He’d attributed it to her training as an ER physician, being able to compartmentalize her emotions, but now he truly understood the depth of that dissociation.
More than shock. More than mental control. It was denial. A refusal to accept that life had irrevocably changed. Forever.
He closed the door to his darkened office, carrying with him the only thing of importance: Cherise’s mug.
This feeling, this distance, this numbness, it wasn’t a mere coping mechanism, he realized. It was a matter of survival.
Twenty-Seven
By the time Leah arrived home, the rain was starting to let up, clouds thinning enough for a faint halo of moonlight to shine through. Ruby waited for her at the kitchen table, the aroma of chili scenting the air, a pile of dishes in the sink.
“Where are the kids?” Leah asked as she hung up her coat. She’d left the evidence boxes she’d picked up earlier in the car, not wanting to risk questions from Emily. “It’s too early for bed.”
“Not by my clock.” Ruby took a sip from a rather large glass of wine. “Thank God it’
s supposed to stop raining tomorrow. Those two need to get outside and run off some energy.”
Leah debated whether to hear the story of what happened in school from Ruby or go up to question Emily and Nate. Despite Ruby being the adult, she decided the kids’ version would probably be closer to the truth. She crossed behind Ruby, noting from the dirty glasses in the sink that she’d given the kids chocolate milk. Again. While Leah didn’t mind it as an occasional treat, she hated it when Ruby turned choices like that into a good guy–bad guy situation—with Leah, being the responsible adult charged with setting reasonable limits, always coming out the bad guy. “I’m going to check on them.”
“Emily insisted on building a fort in her room, says they’re going to sleep there. Don’t be surprised if it’s a mess and you might not have sheets left on your bed.”
“Right.” Leah walked through the rarely used formal dining room to the foyer inside the front door where the stairs were. Through an arch opposite was the living room with its large fireplace. She glanced in, assessing the damage. Books and art materials, playing cards scattered about. A path created out of pillow and couch cushion stepping stones wove between stuffed animals posed as if they were ready to pounce on unsuspecting travelers.
She smiled at the mess. How could she not find joy in the fact that Emily and Nate could find the energy to harness their imagination, despite the trauma they’d both been through? Messes were easy to clean—two kids’ broken hearts were more difficult to mend. But it was a hopeful start.
She remembered Luka’s worry, urging her to protect Nate. In the moment, she’d assumed he meant physically, was worried that Chaos might target his family. But now she realized he meant more than that. He’d meant protecting Nate from the worry that Luka might be in trouble, avoiding any hint of instability. Last thing Nate needed was to lose someone else he cared about or to have his world come crashing down again.
Leah climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaky third one, and went down the hall to Emily’s room. She’d recently moved out of Leah’s bed, and so far had made it one whole night without waking from the night terrors that had forced Leah to crawl in with her on the narrow lower bunk of Emily’s new bed.
Slowly, Leah opened the door, expecting to surprise Nate and Emily mid-giggle. But the room was silent.
The mattress from the top bunk had been moved to the floor beside the lower bunk and a sheet was tied to the top railing, creating a lean-to. It emitted a soft glow—a combination of Emily’s nightlight and the fairy lights she’d had Leah string around the bunkbed frame.
Leah crouched down to peer under the sheet. A rush of pride made her put her hand to her chest—Emily, who often had trouble remembering to be kind and polite, she was so busy trying to be grown-up, had given Nate her bunk and had taken the mattress on the floor. She’d even shared a few of her new favorite stuffed animals, which were arranged along the railing and the nightstand to stand guard over them.
Blinking back tears, Leah fought the urge to crawl in beside the children. Emily’s snores were deep and steady, while Nate slept on his belly, arms and legs thrown out as if they were growing too fast for him to keep them tucked under the covers. Leah leaned forward, head brushing the sheet overhead, and gave them each a kiss on the forehead before backing out and quietly closing the door.
Ruby stood in the hallway, holding her glass of wine, watching. “I was gonna go out, meet some friends, but with the rain and all, guess I’ll stay in. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
“Thanks for picking them up from school. I told them to call me next time so you won’t be bothered.”
“No bother.” Ruby took a step down the hall but turned back. “They’re good kids.” Then she walked away, leaving Leah to decipher her tone. Did she mean, good kids unlike Leah, who Ruby had abandoned time and again when she was a child? Or that Leah was failing at making certain Emily knew she was a good kid, now that she had to juggle twice the parenting duties and all the disciplining?
It was hard to know with Ruby. With her nothing was ever the simple truth—most of the time, it was nothing even close to the truth. Ruby’s life had always revolved around Ruby—and her constant need to be the center of attention—which was why Leah was so puzzled by her comment. Maybe she was wrong, maybe Ruby was finally growing up. Or at least trying.
Puzzling over her mother’s intentions and realizing she might never understand Ruby, Leah went back downstairs and retrieved the evidence boxes from the Subaru, carrying them inside to the kitchen table.
Luka needed Ian’s files, but there was something else more important to Leah. Before tackling the computers, she tore open the small plastic envelope and retrieved Ian’s wedding ring. It was too wide for her to wear on her finger, but she retrieved a spool of braided silk thread from the mudroom where her great-aunt Nellie used to tie bouquets of flowers. Leah hung the ring around her neck, the gold metal chill against her skin.
Then she found the box with Ian’s computer, unpacked it and plugged it in, but couldn’t bring herself to turn it on. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table listlessly eating a lukewarm bowl of leftover chili, not really tasting it as she stared at the dark screen.
She yearned to see what was in the computer—it was as much a part of Ian as his fingers or toes—but was also afraid that it wouldn’t feel real, that seeing his words glowing on the screen would be a letdown, a reminder that he was never coming back. Finally, she dared tap the power button. The machine whirred to life with the soft exhalation of someone startled from a dream.
Tears ambushed her as the home screen filled with a photo of her and Emily. She was reading Emily a bedtime story, snuggled on Emily’s old bed in their old house, surrounded by all her favorite old stuffed animals and dolls. The same bed Ian had died on.
Guilt bowed her shoulders and she had to close her eyes to stave off the dark tsunami of grief that ambushed her. She choked back bile, the chili turning rancid, churning through her gut. How long would she feel this way? The rest of her life?
A gentle rapping at the kitchen door had her jerking her head up. Luka stood there, waiting on the back porch—only company used the front door. She pushed her chair back, stood, and opened the door. The rain had finally stopped—his coat was dry and the pitter-patter that had been a constant these past few weeks as it drummed against the metal roof was silent.
“Nate up?” he asked as she stood aside to let him into the kitchen. He held a Batman knapsack in one hand—Nate’s clothing, no doubt.
“No, they’re both asleep.”
“Already?” He seemed disappointed as he set the knapsack on a chair.
“He was asleep by the time I got home so I didn’t have a chance to talk to him. How much are you going to tell him? About why you want him to stay here?”
“Not sure. I’d love it if I never have to tell him anything. It’s overwhelming to me—what’s a kid going to think or feel? I mean, how do I even start to explain?”
She motioned for him to sit as she brewed them both cups of tea. Luka was a fan of Nellie’s cinnamon and rosehip blend and it was Leah’s favorite as well. “I think,” she answered as she waited for the water to heat, “a kid like Nate needs the truth more than anything.”
“Right. Which truth? The one where a killer reached out after seventeen years to tell me he murdered my fiancée? Or the truth that as a cop there might always be people—past, present, and future—willing to target my family to get to me?” He leaned back, his gaze vacant as he stared at the embossed tin ceiling tiles overhead. “Honestly, I never dreamed I’d ever have a family to worry about…”
The kettle whistled and she poured the water through the strainer into their mugs, releasing a soothing aroma. “Luka Jericho, lone wolf cop prowling the streets.”
He grimaced at her words. She returned to the table and took her seat, setting a mug before each of them.
“But now I’ve got Pops and Nate to worry about.” He sat up, raising his mug to
inhale deeply and then take a sip. “Maybe I’ll wait before talking to Nate. Make sure I have not only the truth but also more than that—a plan, a way to move forward so he feels safe. Kid’s just so damned vulnerable right now. Those Homan kids and that Ms. Driscoll aren’t making things any easier.”
“I have a confession to make,” she said. “I went to the school. Was ready to give Ms. Driscoll a piece of my mind.”
“And?”
“I’m not sure how, but she put me in my place so fast, I felt like I was the kid.”
He nodded. “Right. I know the feeling. I barely got a word in edgewise.”
They sipped their tea in silence. Then Luka said, “You know, when the school first called, there was this jolt through my gut. I heard ‘bully’ and ‘Nate’ in the same sentence and my first instinct wasn’t to argue or disbelieve—it was disappointment.”
“Because you thought he might have done it?”
“Yes. No… Because I was afraid I’d already let him down. That if he had bullied someone it was because I hadn’t taught him better. And then I was angry. How could I have already given up on a kid—my sister’s own flesh and blood—as quickly as the rest of the world had. As if he were disposable, not worthy. So I rushed to the school determined to stand up for Nate—”
“To fix things. I know the feeling.”
“But that Ms. Driscoll, she acted as if Nate was already convicted. Then Ruby showed up and there was no more talking or discussion or negotiation. She believed—no, she knew—Nate and Emily hadn’t done anything wrong and she just… she was like a tornado. Whisked them away, like it was in her nature to do whatever it took to protect them. No thinking, no debate, just doing.”
Leah bowed her head for a long moment. “That’s not the Ruby I knew as a child.” She glanced up once more. “But it sounds like the mother I always dreamed of having.”
“It was humbling to watch,” he admitted. “Made me realize how much I need to learn. She reminded me of your great-aunt Nellie. I felt that same weird combination of awe, terror, and respect that I did whenever Nellie came by the farm.”