Detective Daddy

by Jane Toombs

  By Thursday afternoon, when her return flight set down at the airport, Fay was exhausted. Her ankle was no worse, but it still pained her when she walked and that, added to the tension at the meeting, had drained her. She was eager to get home, to make sure Danny Marie was all right, then collapse. Luckily she didn’t have to work tomorrow because the trip had been her workweek.

  Her father picked her up, assured her the baby was thriving, but that he and Nell could use a rest. “Your mother did most of the baby care when you were little,” he said, “I never realized how much time and effort it takes to do for a baby. We enjoyed it, but wouldn’t want to try it on a daily basis.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” On impulse, she leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek.

  He blinked. Was that a tear in his eye? No, she must be imagining things.

  At the apartment, as soon as he’d brought in her suitcase, he said to Nell, “Got everything ready to go?”

  “I left a casserole in the fridge, so you won’t have to make supper,” Nell told Fay. “Danny Marie’s just fine. She’s sleeping. I hate to rush off like this.”

  “Don’t worry, you both have been wonderful.” Fay reached out and hugged Nell. “I’m glad the baby has you for her Nana.”

  “Remember the chain,” her father said as they left.

  He was as bad as Dan. Which reminded her all over again that she didn’t know when she’d see Dan again. Probably not tonight, she figured, since the case was so close to being wrapped up. Which was just as well as she was out on her feet.

  He might call though. Then again he might not. Fay limped over and slid on the chain. After she saw that her daughter, now back in the crib, was still sleeping, she settled herself on the couch.

  She’d meant it when she’d told Dan she was beginning to understand what Jean had gone through as his wife. It not only must have been the worry that he might be hurt or killed, it also had to be the not knowing when he’d be home and when he wouldn’t.

  But she didn’t intend to let the uncertainty of when she’d see him again affect her.

  Enough of that. Time to vegetate and watch TV. Fay reached for the remote and clicked it on.

  Her father had had it on the local channel, which she ordinarily didn’t watch. But the news was on, so she left it there for the moment. A banner flashed across the screen announcing “This just in.” It disappeared and the screen showed a chaotic scene of flashing police and ambulance lights. She heard shots fired, though the footage didn’t show where they came from or who fired them.

  “Heff Gaines, reporting from the intersection of Tenth and Holland,” a man said as the news camera zoomed in on him. “We’ve had a shootout here, at least two men are wounded.”

  Fay leaned forward, staring at the screen as the camera panned back to the scene, Heff continuing to talk. “To the left a man lies in the street. Another is sprawled on the sidewalk on the other side of that car, impossible to see from this angle.”

  Peering at the screen, she gasped. No, it couldn’t be! But, though it was hard to see, the license on the car Heff spoke of was full of sixes. Dan’s car. Hand to her throat, she stared at the body lying face-down, unmoving, in the street.

  As Heff continued to describe the scene, sirens screamed and more police cars pulled up. “I have it on good authority,” Heff said, “that one of the men down is a cop.”

  Fay closed her eyes momentarily, clenching her hands together. Not Dan. It couldn’t be Dan.

  When she stared at the screen again, she thought she could tell that the man in the street didn’t have on a police uniform. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t a cop—he could be a detective. But not Dan, she refused to believe it was Dan.

  “I’m told paramedics have been able to reach the wounded man on the sidewalk,” Heff went on. “Police are securing the area to enable them to reach the man in the street. No information on which one is the cop.”

  Moments later one of the ambulances roared off, lights flashing, siren whooping. “They’re taking one of the wounded men to City Hospital,” Heff said.

  Her gaze never leaving the screen, Fay fumbled for her cell phone and punched in Clara’s number.

  “I have to go out,” Fay told her when she answered, “could you possibly come back over?”

  When Clara arrived, Heff was still at the scene. “Someone is heading for the man down in the street,” he said.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Clara exclaimed, “Heff Gaines is the newscaster for the local station. Is this real?”

  Fay nodded.

  A uniformed policeman, weaving back and forth, was almost to the body. Fay tensed, expecting he’d be shot at. When he reached the victim, he flung down a blanket, rolled the inert man onto it and folded the blanket over him. Pulling the blanket with him, he reached relative safety behind the car. Dan’s car. She could see an ambulance parked farther along the street.

  “I’m afraid Dan’s been hurt,” she told Clara. “I’m going to City Hospital to find out.”

  “Oh, dear, I do hope he’s all right,” Clara said.

  As Fay grabbed her bag and started for the door, Clara added, “Don’t you think you should put on some shoes first?”

  Fay hobbled back, slid her feet into her sandals and started off again.

  She parked her car as close as she could get to the E.R. entrance of City Hospital and limped past an ambulance with its rear doors wide open. Once inside the waiting room, she found no one was behind the receptionist’s window. What now? Push open the inner door and go into the patient area?

  “They just wheeled some guy in,” a man sitting in one of the waiting room chairs volunteered. “I heard a medic say he got shot.”

  A uniformed cop burst into the waiting room from the parking lot, glanced around, then hurried through the inner doors. Fay trailed him, limping as fast as she could. The first alcove he passed had a curtain drawn across. The cop slid the curtain partway open, muttered an apology, jerked the curtain into place and strode on.

  A nurse in green scrubs coming toward them let him go past, but blocked Fay’s passage with a no-nonsense “May I help you?”

  “Can you tell me the name of the man just brought in?” Fay asked. “He’d been shot.”

  “I’m sorry. Information like that is confidential.”

  “But he may be—that is, I know him and I’m afraid he—”

  “Please return to the waiting room. The receptionist will help you if he can.”

  “He isn’t there!” Fay blurted.

  “He will be. This way, please.” Herding Fay ahead of her, the nurse gave her no choice but to retreat.

  “Get anywhere?” the guy in the waiting room asked when she returned.

  She shook her head.

  “Yeah, most times they won’t tell you nothing.”

  Catching a glimpse of a man in green through the receptionist’s window, Fay limped over. “I need to know the name of the man the ambulance just brought in,” Fay said. “He was shot.”

  The man—his name tag said he was George Cox—looked up from the paperwork spread on the desk. “Are you a relative?”

  “How do I know if you won’t give me his name?” Fay cried.

  “If you’re not a relative, I can’t give you any information.”

  Fay stared at him in disbelief. Finally she decided to lie. “If his name is Dan Sorenson, then, yes, I’m his sister.”

  George shuffled through some of the papers, then shook his head. “We haven’t treated anyone by that name since I came on duty at three.” He cocked his head as though listening and Fay heard the wail of a siren rapidly coming closer.

  George turned and called to someone invisible to Fay, “That red blanket’s coming in.”

  Whatever that meant, it could be the other shooting victim. It could be Dan. The paramedics wouldn’t be bringing him in through the waiting room, they would wheel the gurney through the outside double doors next to the one she’d come in through. They wouldn’t b
e any more likely than the E.R. personnel to tell her his name, but if she waited out there and could catch a glimpse of who they wheeled past her, then she’d know if it was Dan.

  She ducked through the outside door of the waiting room just as the ambulance turned into the E.R. entrance, its siren shutting off abruptly. Limping to the other side of the double doors, she tried to blend herself into the wall, an impossible task since it wasn’t yet dusk. They were bound to notice her. The most she could hope for was that they wouldn’t bother to make her leave.

  A police car, lights flashing, tires squealing, turned into the entrance and came to a stop alongside the ambulance. Two uniformed cops jumped out and strode toward her.

  “Ms.,” one said, “Get out of the way. Now.”

  “But I need to know who—” she began.

  Her words were cut off abruptly when one of the cops grasped her arm and speed-marched her through the door into the waiting room. He let her go and ordered, “Stay here.”

  “Please,” she called after him as he exited through the inner door of the waiting room. “I need to know—” She stopped when the door closed behind him.

  “You don’t get nowhere with cops, lady,” the guy in the chair said. “Don’t waste your breath.”

  Glancing at the receptionist window, she saw that George was nowhere in sight. Making her way to the inner door, she eased it open a crack and peered through. A paramedic was just pushing a gurney through the double doors. She still had a chance. She muttered a word she rarely said under her breath when the cops behind the paramedic moved up to flank the gurney as it rolled down the hall. The one nearer her completely blocked her view of the occupant’s face.

  Pushing through the door and running after the gurney would be futile, she knew, so, temporarily frustrated, she was about to close the inner door when a man pushed through the double doors and strode along the hall. She stared at him, her heart hammering.

  Throwing open the door, she cried, “Dan!” and flung herself at him.

  He caught her, holding her close for a moment, then releasing her, but keeping his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

  “I saw it on TV and they said a cop got shot and your car was there and I thought—oh, Dan, I thought it was you.” She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t control herself. “I came to find out, to see you, only they wouldn’t—”

  “Calm down, Fay. Here I am, unhurt.”

  “Your car—I saw the license number on TV and I—”

  “I was at the scene, yes. Now you need to go home and relax. I’m okay, but I’m still on duty so I can’t come with you.”

  “But you—”

  “I’ll come when I can. Please go home, Fay.”

  “If you’ll promise you’ll come by when you finish up whatever it is you have to do.”

  “It’s likely to be well after midnight.”

  “I don’t care, promise me.”

  He nodded, let go of her shoulders and continued on down the hall. Fay took a deep breath, let it out with a sigh and limped slowly out of the building and made her way to her car.

  Dan was alive, she kept telling herself as she drove home. Alive and not even injured, thank God. By the time she reached the apartment, she was shivering, warm as the August evening was.

  Inside, she assured Clara that Dan hadn’t been hurt, thanking her for coming to the rescue.

  “I’m glad he’s all right,” Clara said, “but I can see you’re still distraught, dear. You need to take a nice warm bath to relax you.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Once Clara was gone, hugging herself to stop the shivers, Fay checked on Danny Marie. Since the baby seemed to be sleeping soundly, she then filled the bath tub. When she lowered herself into the warm water her shaking eased, and, after a few minutes of soaking, her tenseness began to ebb.

  The name of Dan’s ex-wife popped into her head. Jean had given him up rather than go through the worry of wondering if she’d ever see him alive again. She’d thought she understood Jean’s point of view, but now she knew she really hadn’t. Being a cop’s wife was a difficult proposition. No wonder he’d made up his mind never to marry again.

  On the other hand, a cop’s life was a difficult proposition. Didn’t he deserve someone to be there when he needed her? Someone strong enough to survive the times she wasn’t sure he’d come home alive. Jean hadn’t been that woman, but did that mean there was no woman who wouldn’t feel being married to Dan was worth the worry and uncertainty?

  By the time she climbed out of the tub, Fay was completely relaxed. And exhausted. She donned a robe, stretched out on her bed and fell asleep. The baby’s wails roused her. She sat up, groggy, and peered at the clock’s red numbers. Almost three. A new morning.

  Later, sitting in the nursery rocking chair feeding Danny Marie, she told her daughter, “Some babies sleep through the night by your age. It’d be nice if you’d think about doing the same.”

  After being burped, Danny Marie showed no sign of being sleepy. Fay yawned and resigned herself to amusing the baby for a while. She enjoyed playing with her daughter, but preferably during daylight hours.

  “I think you’re spoiled,” she murmured. “Everyone caters to you. Me, Clara, my dad and Nell, even Dan when he’s here.”

  Danny Marie smiled at her and Fay buried her face in the baby’s neck, smelling the indefinably wonderful scent of baby.

  After rearranging the baby on her lap, she said, “Maybe your mommy won’t work so many days a week once this job she’s on is finished. What do you think of that? And maybe once Mommy’s relationship with Dan settles down, you’ll see more of him, too. I know you like him. I do, too. He’d make a great father, wouldn’t he?”

  Fay paused, her last few words echoing in her mind. How could Dan ever be Danny Marie’s father when he didn’t want to marry? Well, of course she didn’t either, did she? She’d told herself she’d never marry after breaking her engagement to Ken. Then, somehow, his dying had etched her negative view of marriage into stone.

  Fay blinked. Could guilt have had anything to do with her decision? After a moment she shook her head. No, she had perfectly rational reasons for staying single and she could name them one by one.

  A line from some great writer—Shakespeare?—popped unbidden into her head. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dan checked his watch when he left the hospital. After three. Should he stop by Fay’s at this hour of the morning? He’d promised her, though. Besides, tired as he was, he needed to go home to Fay.

  Home to Fay? No, that wasn’t right, why had he thought that? What he meant was he needed to be with her, if only for a few minutes. But a part of his mind wouldn’t let go of the connection between home and Fay.

  As he pulled out of the parking lot, he relived the way she’d thrown her arms around him in the E.R. She cared about him, that was obvious. But, by now, she’d have settled down and had time to think about the anguish she’d undoubtedly gone through. Would she greet him with open arms or tell him goodbye, having persuaded herself she didn’t want to go through that again?

  He wouldn’t blame her, but he hoped to hell she still wanted to keep seeing him. He sighed, wondering if he’d ever get over her.

  It looked like his partner Gary was going to make it, thank God. Best cop on his team. If the bullet had caught him an inch higher he’d have bought the farm. Wasn’t his time to go, obviously.

  When Dan turned onto Fay’s street he saw she’d left her porch light on, so she must be expecting him. But that didn’t necessarily mean she’d welcome him. Reaction was settling in. By the time he got out of the car, the adrenaline high of the confrontation at Tenth and Holland and its aftermath was pretty much depleted.

  He rang Fay’s doorbell, giving his name when she asked who was there. She opened the door, peered at him through the crack left by the chain, then closed the door so she could unhook the chain and let him in.<
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  As he entered, he saw she was in her robe, hair tousled as though she’d been sleeping—just the way he liked her best. In her arms, Marie stared up at him. He’d no sooner kicked the door shut with his foot and put the chain back on, than Fay thrust the baby at him.

  “I’ve had hours to think about it,” Fay announced, “and I’ve decided that Danny Marie needs her father.”

  Startled, he asked, “Danny Marie?”

  “Her real name is Danielle Marie. I didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t sure you’d be pleased.”

  He looked from her to the baby and back, feeling dangerously near tears. “You named her after me?”

  “Who else? If it hadn’t been for you, neither the baby nor I would be alive. She owes you her life and so do I. You know what the Chinese say about saving a person’s life, don’t you?”

  Where was this going? “Something about the saver being responsible for the person he saved for the rest of that person’s life, as I recall.”

  She nodded. “Since you saved Danny Marie and me as a package deal, you’re stuck with both of us. For once my father was right about me never doing any better.”

  He tried to make sense of what she was saying. “If you mean me, your dad’s words were more like you could do worse.”

  She waved a hand. “Whatever. The truth is, Danny Marie and I both need you. You’re her father already, in most ways that count. As for me—” She broke off and sighed. “I got scared out of my wits when I saw your car in the middle of that shoot-out or whatever it was. But I’m not Jean. I can live with it because otherwise I’d really have to live without you. So get rid of the notion I don’t want to live with a detective. I—I—” Again she faltered. She swallowed, lifted the baby from his arms and headed for the nursery.

  Dan trailed her, still trying to figure out what she was leading up to. Standing on the opposite side, he watched her lay his namesake in the crib. For a moment both of them stood looking down at the now drowsy baby.