by Linda Ladd
Black and I smiled at each other. When Joe McKay walked in, a big bandage wrapped around his head, Black stood. “Hell, it looks like an Iraq triage unit around here.”
“Tell me about it,” Joe said. He looked down at me. “I hear you’re gonna make it.”
“Yeah. I’m okay. How’s Elizabeth?”
“Some bumps and scratches but, thank God, that’s all. It could’ve been real bad.”
“Yeah. I thought you both were dead.”
Black said, “You think Willie got out?”
“I knocked him down and took off with Elizabeth. I doubt very much if he made it out before the blasts started going off.”
I said, “He’s sick in the head. So was Wilma.”
McKay said, “Yeah, I knew he and Simon were dangerous but I didn’t realize how bad they really were. All I wanted was to prove they killed my little brother for pushing Willie into a grave when he was little. Simon got him out and that’s why Willie was so blindly loyal to him. We went to the same church they did. Did you know about any of this?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know much about Willie Vines except that he was a dead psychopathic, angel-loving serial killer.
“Were you really going to blow up Wilma and Willie with the cave?”
“I was going to blow them both to hell.”
I didn’t blame him for that but I didn’t want to say so, either, not exactly a police-officer kind of remark. Instead, I said, “Where’s Elizabeth now?”
McKay lowered his voice. “She’s at Charlie’s house. Jacqee’s watching her.” He glanced at Black then back to me. “Could I have a private word with you? Won’t take long.”
I knew then why he’d come. And again, I couldn’t blame him for what he was about to do. “Mind giving us a minute, Black?”
Black minded, all right, but he’s a stand-up guy, so he said, “How about a Pepsi? Bud, you want me to get you anything?”
“Yeah, two Big Macs and fries, super size it.”
Black kissed me on the cheek; his alpha-male way of staking his claim, I suppose. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind. Joe McKay sat down and pulled the chair close to my bed. He kept his voice low.
“Charlie’s gonna work with me on the California warrant. He got me bail until the hearing and said he’s willing to back me up and help me get Elizabeth back. So I got to ask you. You gonna help me out, too? Talk to the judge?”
There it was, the question. “What about Elizabeth’s mother? She has legal custody, right?”
For once McKay wasn’t putting on the charm. His blue eyes were serious, pleading, even. “Delia’s a hard-core addict. Got into all kinds of illegal drugs after I left for the Persian Gulf. I didn’t even know Elizabeth existed until I got back to the States and looked Delia up. She’s in jail now for possession. Her loser boyfriend had Elizabeth. I’ve got a DNA analysis in the works to prove she’s mine. You vouch for me along with Charlie, and I’m pretty sure everything will work out. My clean military record’s gonna help. And the fact that I tried to help you solve Classon’s murder.”
I thought of my baby. The pain I felt when I lost Zach. The hole in my heart that never heals over. “Does Delia love Elizabeth?”
“She’s too strung out now to love anything but the drugs. Her boyfriend was slapping both of them around, but she stayed with him for the hits he gave her. She had Elizabeth living in a crack house, for Christ’s sake.”
“You should’ve gone through the courts with this, McKay. Grabbing her like that was stupid.”
“I didn’t have much choice. Social services gave her back to Delia twice. I had no legal claim then, but I will as soon as I prove paternity.”
I stared at him, not liking the position he was putting me in. It went against my grain to buck the system but this time there were plenty of good reasons. “I’ll talk to Charlie and see what we can do. I can’t promise you anything, and I won’t do anything illegal. But I’ll vouch for you.”
McKay looked mightily relieved. He smiled. “I’m thinking about settling down around here and raising her. Maybe you could be her godmother or her favorite Aunt Claire, something like that.”
Again, I thought of my own little Zachary, how he’d felt the last time I held him, when blood was leaking out of his chest. I looked away. “I’m not so good with kids.”
McKay said, “I owe you big-time for this, Claire. I mean it. Anything you ever need, ever, just let me know.”
“Tell me the truth then. You really a psychic?”
McKay grinned. He picked up my hand and held it flat between both of his. “I’ll tell you this much. I’ve seen the two of us getting pretty hot and heavy together in the future. Which sounds damn good in my book. So you tell me, Claire. Is that gonna happen?”
Now I was really embarrassed but not as embarrassed as when he pressed his lips to the back of my hand about the time Black walked in with my Pepsi. I jerked my hand away, and McKay’s dimples went wild. “Keep in touch, Claire. I plan to.”
“Right.”
McKay nodded to Black, who stared him out of the room. Black walked to the bed and popped the tab on a can of Pepsi and poured it into a cup of crushed ice. I didn’t say anything.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Sure. He asked me to marry him and move to Rome, the one in Italy, actually, so we could be private investigators together and help Interpol solve cases. You know, I catch ’em. He blows ’em up.”
He cocked an eyebrow and handed me the cup. I took a sip.
“And?” he said.
“And, I told him that I liked you better so I was going to stick around here and let you buy me some more expensive gifts. Like my own personal Humvee.”
He smiled and adjusted my straw. “Good answer.”
From the next cubicle, Bud said, “I was serious about those Big Macs, Doc. And get me a couple of fried apple pies, too. They’re two for a dollar now.”
Black and I laughed, then I laid my head on the pillow, shut my eyes, and hoped to God that Willie Vines had died in that explosion.
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Copyright © 2007 Linda King Ladd
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