by J. E. Taylor
“Hi, CJ. I’m sorry ’bout yer Dad.” She bounced as she spoke, barely able to contain her energy, her blonde ponytail springing in time with her feet. Even at almost ten, she was as spastic as she had been at four, but she was pretty and he didn’t want to be rude.
CJ barely inclined his head in a nod.
Sandy reached out and ran her hand down his arm, stepping closer.
CJ followed her touch and his eyes misted. The simple motion stirring something deep within him and he raised his eyes to meet her stare. This time his nod was more pronounced and he bit his lip to keep the tears from flowing. He hadn’t cried and now, with the flood gates dangerously close to bursting, he closed his eyes, hanging his head and concentrating on building up the levy he’d erected around his emotions when his father left for New York.
His concentration broke when her arms wrapped around him, pulling him to her chest. The sweet scent of strawberries filled his nostrils and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder and the tears broke through the barrier.
Sandy’s soft voice whispered “Shhh,” in his ear over and over, in time with the motion of her hand running through his thick hair. Her breath tickled the line of his neck and he sobbed, clinging to her refuge.
They held each other in the shadow of the coffin, away from the crowd milling about. CJ pulled away wiping the tears and snot off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Sorry,” his hoarse voice cracked.
“It’s all right,” Sandy offered a hint of a smile and stood still, her hand resting on his arm.
CJ put his hand over hers and met her gaze, twitching his lips into the semblance of a smile, remembering Eric’s funeral and the quiet hug they shared. Sandy cried that time, leaning on CJ at the loss of their half-brother less than a month ago. Eric had been a stable presence in both his and Sandy’s lives, never giving any indication of favoritism between CJ, Tommy, and Sandy. In Eric’s eyes, they were all tied together as family.
“How’s your dad doing?”
Sandy glanced over her shoulder at her parents. They stood talking with his mother. She shrugged and looked back at CJ. “He’s doing better than your mom.”
CJ inhaled, his eyes drifting back to his mother, losing Chris on the heels of losing her oldest son had taken its toll. “She isn’t doing very well,” he confessed.
“Can you blame her?”
CJ’s gaze shot back to Sandy and he shrugged. “I guess not.” He slid his hands into his pocket and dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet, torn between wanting Sandy to linger and wanting to be alone.
“Do you want me to hang out for a while or did you want to be alone?”
CJ shrugged not meeting her inquisitive gaze. Sandy leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, creating a warm flutter in his stomach under the layer of despair.
She disappeared into the crowd and CJ turned back toward the coffin, his fingers grazing the spot where her lips had been moments before. Curious, he stared at the slight pink sheen of her lip-gloss that glimmered on his fingertips.
A small smile formed on CJ’s lips and for a fleeting moment, he believed everything would be all right.
Chapter 11
The ride to York Beach was quiet and Steve mulled over the conversation with Sarah the night before. He lied to her about who Chris was and that weighed on him, but the alternative was just as bad. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t care how good a cop she was, or that she had saved his life, if she turned her cheek to someone like Ty Aris, he would throw her ass in jail.
Jennifer hadn’t said more than two words to him since Sarah’s arrival and now she sat with her arms folded across her chest just staring out the window.
“Will you just cut me some slack?” Steve whispered, drawing her attention.
“Me?” She pointed at her chest and her glare dug under his skin.
“Yes, you.” He glanced in her direction. “I didn’t know Kyle was alive. If I had any clue, I never would have left you alone that day.” There, he said it. He finally answered the main “why” question in Jennifer’s mind.
“Why didn’t you put down your gun like he asked?” Tears filled her eyes.
“Because if I had, you know damn well we all would have died.”
“He’s right,” Sarah said from the back seat.
“Who asked you,” Jennifer snapped.
“Excuse me.” Sarah put her hands up and leaned back in the seat.
“That was uncalled for.” Steve sent a glare in Jennifer’s direction. The tension in the car ratcheted up, thickening between the three of them. Logically, he knew Jennifer needed to go through the motions of grief before she came to terms with Samantha’s death. Now that Kyle was behind bars, she focused all her anger and all her blame on him. He met Sarah’s gaze in the rearview mirror and offered a slight shrug.
It’s all right. Sarah thought.
No, it isn’t. She doesn’t have any right to lash out at you. He sent the words back to her and watched her eyebrows rise.
Give her some slack, Steve.
Steve snorted and focused back on the road, turning up the radio in an attempt to drown out their thoughts.
When Steve pulled into the Congregational Church in the center of the small town, he uttered a sharp laugh, surprised to find the parking lot full. He opened the door for both Sarah and Jennifer, helping them out of the car.
They entered the church and took a seat in the back.
Tommy Ryan stood in the front pew and slid into the aisle, scanning the crowd with his bright blue eyes until they landed on Steve. He marched up the aisle with purpose, keeping eye contact.
“My mom wants you in the front,” he said when he stopped at the edge of the pew they sat in. The boy reached, taking Steve’s hand and headed back toward the front of the church.
Steve grabbed Jennifer’s hand, pulling her with him. He didn’t want to be up front alone. He wanted her with him, even with the hostility raking her mind. He looked back when her hand slipped out of his.
“I don’t feel right,” she whispered.
“Please,” he said, feeling all eyes and thoughts on him and Jennifer. When she nodded, he reached out, taking her hand in a vice grip she couldn’t break if she wanted to. There was room in the pew behind Jessica and CJ and Steve waved Jennifer in, taking the aisle seat as Tommy sat in the front pew next to CJ.
Jessica turned, her calico eyes meeting Steve’s gaze. He offered what he hoped was an appropriate smile of support and not a grimace and reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. No spoken words passed between them but the sudden stiffness in her back and the full turn in his direction was enough.
“You’ve seen him?”
CJ turned and his eyes hardened. A shiver struck the base of Steve’s spine and he clenched his jaw against it.
“He’s seen him. Ain’t that right, Agent Williams?” Even the tone of the voice mimicked Chris’s, dripping with sarcasm and an undertone of something more dangerous. CJ’s gaze traveled to Jennifer, the hardness in his eyes softened, transitioning back to that of a vulnerable child before he looked away.
Steve leaned into Jennifer, kissing her cheek. CJ frightened her more than Chris had and her thoughts screamed that fear. He wrapped his arm around her bringing her close and her mind began to clear. He couldn’t blame her. CJ could toast everyone in the church without breaking a sweat and that was a frightening prospect in a nine-year-old. Neither CJ nor Jessica gave anything away beyond static, but Tommy clearly mourned his father’s passing as well as the rift it put between him and his brother.
The service was nice and when it was time for mourners to speak on behalf of the deceased, Jessica turned. “I think you should say something about my husband.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose. He wasn’t prepared to speak to a church full of people about a man he was ambiguous about. He started to refuse and CJ turned.
“It’s the least you can do considering...”
Steve met the
boy’s stark stare and found himself slowly standing and releasing Jennifer’s hand. The walk to the pulpit was close to twenty feet but it might as well have been two hundred miles. From the casual observer’s view, he walked normally, but in his mind, everything slowed to a crawl. When he turned to the congregation, he had no idea what would come out of his mouth. What did surprised even him.
“I knew Chris Ryan for only a matter of weeks.” Steve stopped, looking out at the crowd. “He saved my life and countless others, but in doing so, he paid the ultimate price.”
Holy god, what a fucking cliché, can’t you do any better? Chris’s voice barreling in his head caught him off guard and he stumbled on words, going silent before he burst out laughing in front of the crowded church.
It took him a moment to get his focus back. “Chris could be a royal S.O.B. too,” he allowed a slight smile. “He certainly knew how to push my buttons. There were several times where I got to the point I could have just throttled him, but then he’d pull out that brittle sense of humor and I’d find myself laughing out loud instead of throwing the punch I had been gearing up for.”
Really?
Steve ignored his guardian angel’s question. “He was brilliant, I’m talking the kind of smarts that puts Einstein in the dust. What he could do with a computer was frightening and I was humbled by his willingness to help track down the man who killed both our kids.” Steve paused, waiting for another catcall from beyond the grave, when none came, he continued. “I have to admit, I’m glad he was on my side, because having him as an adversary would have been a real bitch.”
Chuckles erupted in the church as well as from the great beyond. Nice.
“I don’t know how many of you really know the Ryan’s but Chris and his family had a profound effect on me.”
Yeah, if they only knew.
Again Steve faltered and had to bite back on the sideways response that wanted to slip out. Just shut up while I do this, will ya? He sent the silent thought and got a chuckle in return.
“They gave me hope when I didn’t have much to cling to and opened their doors when I had lost everything. He even kicked my ass when I was wallowing in self-pity.”
Another wave of chuckles erupted in the congregation and he saw some heads nodding, deducing they must have been students of Chris’s dojo when it was operational.
“Now, I’m a little younger than he was,” More chuckles and Steve broke out in a grin. “And I like to think I’m in fairly decent shape, but my second degree black belt didn’t hold a candle to Chris. He was the fastest sparring partner I’ve ever had and knocked me on my ass quite a few times. He also knocked some sense into my thick skull, which, as my wife will tell you, is a really hard thing to do.” He waved toward Jennifer and then hooked his thumbs in his pockets and walked to the front of the church, standing next to the casket. His smile faded and he sighed.
“He offered to be my friend at a time when that was as good as signing his own death warrant.” His gaze scanned over Jessica’s ex-husband and then moved to Jessica herself. “Unfortunately, that’s exactly what being associated with me turned out to be, and for that I’m sorry.” Steve turned away from the congregation.
I’m touched.
“If this was your idea of a joke,” he whispered staring at the casket, “I’m going to kick your ass when I get back to Brooksfield.” Tears blurred his vision and he blinked them away.
I’m truly touched. The soft chuckle that followed got a rise out of Steve.
“Fuck you, Ty.” His uttered words were so low that they were almost imperceptible, and Steve turned, taking his seat again.
Jessica stared at him, her mouth slightly agape and when he met her gaze, he knew it was going to be impossible to keep her out of his head, especially since she heard her dead husband cajoling him while he gave his little speech. He offered a nod and looked away, aware that her eyes were boring into him, creating a hot spot on the flesh of his forehead right between his eyes.
She reached for him and it was Jennifer who interceded, grabbing her hand. Her expression as shocked as Jessica’s as the transfer occurred.
Steve felt the power transition from Jessica into his wife, almost seeing the vague sparkles of light transferring in the air. Both women stared at each other, eyes slightly wider than usual and their grip broke. Jennifer stared at her hand, rubbing her thumb along her fingertips before she looked back at the woman in the front pew.
Steve saw it first just as Jessica turned away. The aging process took over, along with her grief, and the lines in her face deepened. Crows nests sprouted from the corners of her eyes and strands of silver threaded through her dark hair. It wasn’t all at once but it was noticeable to Steve. Jessica Ryan now looked every bit her fifty-seven years.
He turned away, focusing on what her ex-husband was saying about the body in the coffin a few feet away. The man who destroyed his marriage, who was the cause of his daughter’s death and yet, Dan Connor was talking about him with reverence, like he was a saint.
Steve had to stifle a laugh, a saint; not in his book, more appropriately an agent of death and now, the man was his guardian angel.
The succession of people who spoke astounded Steve. Chris Ryan had touched a lot of lives in the fifteen years since he changed identities, but to Steve, that still didn’t make up for all the black years he stood by while his step-brother ruined innocent lives, raping and murdering at will while he caught it all on film. Once again, Steve wondered if Chris had lived, would he have kept his promise? Would he have left the family alone or would he have put the man behind bars? He studied his hands mulling it over. The music brought him out of his thoughts and he stood as they carried the coffin to the hearse.
Steve turned to a tap on his shoulder. CJ’s expression held both anger and awe as he looked at Steve.
“You can still hear my dad?”
Steve pursed his lips, debating on how to answer the question, his eyes switching between CJ, Tommy, and Jessica. He returned his gaze to CJ and nodded. With that, he turned away and headed down the aisle, with Jennifer at his side to meet Sarah in the back of the church.
Steve didn’t say a word until they were in the car and then he pounded his palm on the dashboard. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” he cursed under his breath looking at the roof of the car. A soft chuckle reached his ears. “You think this is funny?” No response came this time and he glanced in the rearview mirror at Sarah’s dumbfounded stare. He turned to Jennifer, her expression mimicking Sarah’s.
Steve glared at her. “He was making side comments while I was trying to talk.”
“Who?” Sarah asked from the backseat.
“Chris Ryan.”
“You know he’s dead, right?”
Steve turned in the front seat, staring Sarah down. “I know he’s dead. But unfortunately, he’s been assigned as my guardian angel, and now he can interrupt me any time he damn well feels like it.”
“Okay…” Sarah said, pushing herself deeper in the back seat, looking at Steve like he just escaped from a mental hospital.
“Steve’s not crazy. I saw him too.”
“You saw him at the church?”
“No. Yesterday at Paradise cove.”
“And you saw him at the church?” Sarah turned toward Steve.
Steve shot a glare in the mirror and followed the trail of cars to the cemetery. “No. I can’t see him, but I can certainly hear his fucked up commentary.”
Sarah burst out laughing in the back seat.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, yes it is,” Jennifer sputtered letting the first wave of laughter flow.
Steve bit back another derogatory response, annoyed at being laughed at. But, after a moment, the humor of the situation seeped in and he let a grin surface, glancing in her direction. Her smile brightened this depressing day.
Steve pulled over in the cemetery. He sighed and scanned the landscape. Headstones mingled with stone mausoleums; reminding h
im of the cemetery in Brooksfield where their daughter was buried. A sobering spin hit their lighthearted laughter and they stepped out of the car approaching the crowded gravesite. He hung back, keeping his distance.
Jessica Ryan’s sobs drifted over the crowd as they lowered the casket next to the graves of Eric and Emily Conner. The family plot. Steve shivered, looking out over the vast cemetery expecting to see Chris in attendance, his white wings folded as tightly as his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen and unusually quiet.
At the house, Steve took the same post by the ocean he had for Eric’s funeral less than a month earlier, but this time, he had company. Jennifer stood on one side and his new partner sat on the rock wall. “I need to figure out how to get CJ to the cabin.” He glanced at Jennifer. “Without Jessica.” His gaze drifted back to the ocean.
“Why?”
“Because Chris needs to have a word with his son and I’m supposed to make it happen.”
“Good luck with that,” Sarah said and her skepticism with this whole situation bled through in her tone.
“Why don’t you do what you did yesterday?” Jennifer asked.
“I’ve seen what suspended animation looks like and it’s a lot like what you look like when you’re having a vision. That’s nothing I can hide in the wide open.”
“So find some place where you can,” Jennifer said.
Steve tilted his head. It wasn’t a bad idea. “I’m not sure I can pull someone through with me.” He took a sip of the scotch in his hand. “But it’s worth a shot.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Sarah asked.
Jennifer sent an annoyed glance in her direction and turned toward Steve. “Go. I want to talk with Jessica anyway.”
Steve nodded and looked at Sarah. “I’ll explain later.”
Jennifer’s annoyance turned south, boiling into a quiet anger that Steve didn’t understand. Instead of questioning her, he turned, leaving the women alone.
It didn’t take long to find CJ, primarily because he announced his intentions silently as he walked in the house.