by Julie Cannon
Lane, fresh from a shower and sporting a large bandage on her right elbow, was distracted as she drove into the restaurant parking lot. She didn’t notice the dark green Chevrolet Caprice parked down the street, and as she got out, the wind blew her hair into her face. She pushed the strands away from her eyes with one hand and pulled open the front door of The SandPiper with the other.
A few minutes later, when she was sitting behind the desk in her office, someone knocked.
“Come in,” Lane replied.
Over the past month or so she’d been spending more and more time in her office, finding it difficult to put on a welcoming face for her customers. She didn’t look up until she heard the door open, and when she did, her eyes traced a path from the polished shoes, up the creased trousers, past the badge and gun, over a firm chest and smooth jaw stopping at a pair of strong brown eyes.
“Good morning, Detective. Is this business or a social call?”
“Both. Can we talk?”
Lane indicated the chair in front of her desk. Seeing the detective in her office made her heart ache. She remained cautious until she knew exactly where the conversation was headed. She didn’t have to wait long.
“How are you, Lane?” The voice was smooth and husky.
“I’ve been better.”
“You look tired. Are you taking care of yourself?”
The lines of tension on Lane’s face were obvious to her, so they wouldn’t escape the detective’s trained eye. She didn’t bother to pretend she felt great. “As best as can be expected.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” The occupant in the chair sighed deeply and was obviously troubled.
“Why are you here, Travis?”
“Kyle told me what happened between you two. I’m sorry.”
“How is she?” Lane choked out the question through a dry throat.
The smile on Travis’ face was usually mistaken as a smirk. “About the same as you. Shitty.” He continued before Lane had a chance to say anything. “Lane, I’m a detective, someone who searches for the facts and uncovers the truth. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“And?” Lane wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“It almost killed Kyle when Alison died. They were kindred spirits. I remember one time we were walking to get some lunch when Kyle stumbled. There was absolutely nothing on the ground, and she said that she had felt a jarring pain shoot up her leg just before she stumbled. The pain lasted all afternoon, and she came to find out that was the day and the exact time Alison broke her leg skiing.”
“And you’ve come to me for?” Lane still didn’t know why Kyle’s partner was here sharing history she didn’t want to hear about. But one thing was certain. If he had verification of the connection between her and Alison, she would lose Kyle forever. Who am I kidding? I’ve already lost her.
“I have to help her, Lane. I’ve gone as far as I can to try to track this down, and I need some information from you. Your surgery, blood type, doctors, that sort of thing.”
Lane leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers under her chin. “You know, if I give you the information, and you find out the truth, there’s a good chance I’ll never see Kyle again.”
“The same applies if you don’t. In my book that qualifies as a no-win situation.” Travis ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. “Look, the only chance you have for her to come back to you is to confirm that the heart you have is not Alison’s. And the only way that’ll happen is for you to answer a few questions.”
The tension in the room was palpable. Lane could sense Travis was as afraid of the answers as she was, whatever they might be.
“What do you know so far?” she asked.
Travis didn’t answer right away.
“Travis, possession is nine tenths of the law, and since the heart in question is sutured into my chest I get the most votes in this game.”
Reluctantly, he said, “There were two thirty-five-year-old women who died from a brain aneurysm on March 24th. One lived in North Carolina and Alison lived in Connecticut. The families of both women donated their organs. Both hearts were transplanted. Unfortunately, I don’t know which one you received.”
“But you intend to find out?”
“I think Kyle has a right to know.”
This was one of those moments that defined an individual. Or was it one of those times that the character of the individual defined the moment? Lane’s decision could affect the lives of dozens of people, and that knowledge was humbling.
Do I want to know? Can I handle it if I know? Will it make any difference in my life if I know? All of these questions had been coursing through her mind for weeks, and she was no closer to the answers than on the first day. She thought of Kyle and of the dream she’d once had for their life together, a dream she still hadn’t let go of entirely. She had promised herself she would fight for Kyle, and she needed every weapon she could find.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I think we both have a right to know. What do you need from me?”
Chapter Seventeen
Kyle knocked on the door of apartment 212, glancing at her watch. It was just after midnight and she knew she’d be unable to sleep. Her head was filled with images of a tiny child battered almost beyond recognition. Abigail Marie Stensen was dead. Preliminary investigation revealed that the little girl had suffered from horrific abuse during her short life, and her mother’s boyfriend had finally thrown one punch too many. Kyle had had a bad feeling about the call, and when she rounded the corner, the flashing lights from two fire trucks and four police cruisers indicated the severity of the case. Captain Grainger had assigned Kyle due to her high conviction rate with homicides involving children, and he knew this particular case would be difficult since the prime suspect was a district attorney’s nephew.
Sick at heart, Kyle leaned against the wall as she waited for the occupant to unlock the door. What am I doing here?
She was in the same spot now as she had been the first time she and Stephanie got together. On that evening, after yet another horrible scene witnessing what one human was capable of doing to another, she had found herself on Stephanie’s doorstep. Neither of them was looking for a commitment, but they both needed an outlet. They didn’t fall in love, or even in lust. They were simply two people who didn’t make judgments about how they coped with the unique stresses they faced. Kyle almost fell in the door when it opened. No words were spoken as Stephanie gathered her into her arms. Theirs was a mutual need as they were both involved with Abigail’s death. Stephanie had been a first responder to that gruesome scene. She had given up on trying to sleep and was sitting in front of the TV when Kyle arrived. As they walked toward the bedroom she didn’t ask why Kyle was there nor did she care. All she knew was that they shared a profession that was dangerous, thrilling and often times ugly, and they understood each other as very few others did.
Kyle had struggled with her decision to come to Stephanie, torn between the need to escape and the desire to be with the woman she loved. In the end she took the easy, predictable way out, and now here she was in the arms of a desirable woman feeling guilty. Guilty for being here in the first place and guilty for using Stephanie.
“Shh, it’s all right. You’ve got every right to be wound up tighter than a guitar string. Just relax.”
“That poor child.” Kyle ran her hands through her hair. “I’m going to nail the cowardly bastard that beat her to death if it’s the last thing I do. God, Steph, it was the worst I’ve ever seen.” Kyle shuddered. “And tomorrow is the autopsy. All I can see is that little girl cut open on the table. Children should never be on an autopsy table.”
“I know. But you have to find some comfort in the fact that you’re going to make sure that animal will never get the opportunity to hurt another child.”
“That helps. But sometimes it’s just not enough.”
Stephanie broke away and led them toward the bedroom. Kyle tensed when Stepha
nie pulled her onto the bed.
“Easy girl, I’m not going anywhere,” Stephanie murmured against her neck.
The words meant nothing to Kyle. She needed to escape. She needed to get lost in something, anything. Her mind had not stopped racing since the news of Alison’s heart in Lane’s body. She couldn’t concentrate, she snapped at everybody, and even her time with Hollie was different. The more she tried not to think about Lane, the more everything reminded her of something they had done together or that Kyle wanted to do with her. Her life was in a tailspin.
Kyle rolled Stephanie onto her back and got rid of the robe and pajama top in one motion. She couldn’t be the passive one this time, she had to take control. She hoped the familiarity of reaching out to Stephanie would help get her life back on track.
Kyle froze when Stephanie’s full breast filled her hand. The weight felt foreign. Instead of being familiar, it felt like it didn’t belong. The texture was different, the size too large, and the erect nipple was not the one that she yearned to tease with her tongue. Kyle shuddered, rolled off Stephanie and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Kyle?”
“I can’t do this. I… shouldn’t be here.” Kyle needed comfort but the instant Stephanie was in her arms, she knew she was with the wrong woman.
“I was wondering why you hadn’t come around in months. You seem different somehow. Does this have anything to do with the woman you were with at the restaurant?” Stephanie got out of bed and gathered her robe around her.
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is.”
“You don’t even know the half of it.” Kyle got off the bed and crossed to the door. “I’m sorry Stephanie, I’ve gotta go. I never should have come here in the first place.”
There was only one woman she wanted comfort from. One woman who made her strong enough to be vulnerable. One woman who reached through her and touched her heart. And whether she could deal with it or not, that woman was Lane.
”You know you’re always welcome here, Kyle.”
Kyle smiled. “You’re a good friend.”
“Take care of yourself. And whatever the complication is, work through it.”
Kyle leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Stephanie’s lips. “Thanks. I’m trying to.”
*
The morning of Abigail Stensen’s funeral, Kyle found herself in a familiar location with a comforting view. The beautiful scenery notwithstanding, her stomach was in knots and her heart raced at the sight of the woman across the patio. The funeral was going to be difficult, and Kyle had spent the last three days preparing herself. She didn’t know why she’d come to The SandPiper this morning; she’d simply acted on the desire to be here. She held her breath when Lane turned around.
Lane froze in her tracks at the sight of her detective. Kyle was even more stunning than she remembered, and the intensity of her gaze was almost unbearable. She waited for some sign from Kyle to indicate that her presence was welcome. Kyle gave her a small smile. Lane swallowed hard and prayed that one foot would move in front of the other.
Kyle took in every inch of the woman walking toward her and noticed that Lane looked thinner and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. “Hello, Lane.”
“Kyle.” Lane managed to squeak out over suddenly dry lips. What are you doing here?
“Do you have a minute?”
For Kyle, she had a lifetime. “Certainly.” Lane held her breath as she sat down.
“How have you been?” Kyle flinched inwardly at her inquiry of Lane’s health. She clearly remembered Lane didn’t want to be treated differently because of her illness.
“I’m well. And you?” Lane knew she looked like hell but would never admit it.
“I’m fine. You look tired.” This conversation is going nowhere.
“Just busy.” Say something! Talk to me! Tell me that you love me and need me regardless of whose heart I have. I’m offering it to you!
Kyle turned the coffee cup in her hands as she looked into the dark liquid for words. What she saw instead was a dark abyss that mirrored the way she felt, a future unclear and uncertain. Her eyes shifted between Lane’s and the place on Lane’s chest where she knew a strong heart beat.
Lane saw the struggle on Kyle’s face, and her heart broke even further. Kyle was here and Lane didn’t know if she wanted to hear what she had to say. As she felt her heart pound, she made a decision.
“Kyle, I don’t know why you’re here, but I want to say something.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I care about you and I can’t let this go without a fight.”
“We can’t talk now,” Kyle said softly. “I have to go very soon.”
“You can give me five minutes.” Lane challenged her with a stare that left no room for argument. “I think I’m owed that.”
Kyle didn’t respond.
“This has been a shock to both of us, and I won’t even begin to say I can imagine what you’re going through, because I can’t. But, Kyle, you’re a detective, and I would have expected you to need more concrete evidence before you jumped to a conclusion. Especially one that has as much of an impact on your life as this.
“Kyle, I love you. We had something special between us. I felt warm and protected when I was with you, and I can’t even describe how I felt to be in your arms. I’ve never experienced what I feel when I’m with you. We were good together, and I think Hollie liked me. She certainly had become an important part of my life. I could see the possibility of a future with you. You can’t tell me that you didn’t feel something too. I know you did. I could see it in your eyes, and I could feel it when you touched me. We had all of that, before you found out about the transplant.”
Kyle didn’t give any indication that she was going to say anything, so Lane continued. “A heart is just a pump, Kyle. It’s an organ that does something specific for the body. It doesn’t make a person who they are. It has nothing to do with who they are. That’s determined by their parents, their upbringing, the people they hang around with, and who they love. My heart does not define who I am. I didn’t become a different person when I got a new one. I’m the same person I was before I got sick, and I’m the same person that I was before you found out. The only thing about me that’s different is a part, a simple yet complex part. I’m just grateful to be alive, and I want you and Hollie to be a part of my life.”
Lane sat back in her chair. She knew that she had given a great deal of thought to how she felt, and she hoped that she was articulate enough to get her point across.
Kyle sat motionless, her mind numb with the words and feelings expressed by the woman who was sitting so close to her. She longed to reach out and hold Lane’s hand, the one that was so strong yet so soft, but she couldn’t. She was ashamed that she felt the way she did. Lane had moved on with her life, why couldn’t she? Because it was my sister.
When it was apparent that Kyle was not going to comment, Lane stood. Kyle rose as she always did, and her body screamed to close the distance between them. “I hope to see you again, Kyle.”
She took one last look in the dark eyes that had once been filled with desire and now haunted her dreams, then turned and walked away.
*
Later that afternoon, Kyle eagerly arrested the murderer of Abigail Stensen. When she snapped the handcuffs she was silently disappointed he didn’t put up a fight. She wasn’t the only cop waiting for the smallest excuse to beat the shit out of him. She was finishing up the intake paperwork when Travis returned with two sandwiches for their dinner.
“Have you talked to Lane yet?” he asked
Kyle’s fingers momentarily froze over the keyboard before she returned to pecking at the keys. “Yes, I saw her this morning.”
“And?”
“She did most of the talking.”
“What did she say?”
Kyle gave up on trying to concentrate on the report. She pushed the keyboard tray away and turned to face her partner
. “Some interesting things.”
“Like what?”
“Like a heart is just a pump, just a piece of machinery. It doesn’t define who you are, and she’s the same person she was before she got sick and before I found out about it. She said she was disappointed in me that I jumped to conclusions and didn’t wait for confirmation.”
“Whoa, that’s pretty heavy stuff.”
“Not nearly as heavy as when she told me that she loves me.” Kyle’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. A whisper seemed to be the right tone of voice to repeat the words that Lane had confessed to her earlier.
“And you said?” Travis asked expectantly.
Kyle lowered her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? The woman tells you she loves you and you say nothing? Even a dope like me knows that’s a really big deal.”
“Travis shut up! I’m not made of stone and I’m certainly not perfect. The woman has my sister’s heart beating inside of her. The heart I can hear pounding in the middle of the night when I lay my head on her shoulder. The heart that races when I touch her and is breaking because I can’t deal with this. Travis, you’re like a brother to me, but please give me a fucking break.”
*
The break that Kyle received was not what she had asked for nor was it what she expected. It happened three days later and was a break of the radius bone in her left arm. She and Travis were interviewing a suspect in his living room and in one moment he went from calm and cooperative to swinging a Louisville Slugger in her direction. Travis successfully subdued the man, but only after Kyle’s arm had been broken in two places.
It was the white cast that Lane noticed first about her detective. She’s not my detective anymore. “Should I ask what the other guy looks like?”