Triple Threat

by Jan Coffey

  “Where was he sleeping?”

  “Under the bed.”

  “He must be scared of something.”

  “I think you’re right,” Helen agreed. “I came downstairs and talked to Sister Lisa, and she said all day yesterday she was fighting to keep that window open in his room. And Lou said today, when all of us were at church, Chris had been asking questions about secret passageways and if there were any good places where someone could hide in this house.”

  “This seems like a strange reaction to the scare in the subway.”

  “I’m no psychologist, Ted, but I agree.”

  “He hasn’t watched any TV or scary movies this past couple of days,” Ted said, thinking aloud.

  “And he hasn’t been talking to any of the kids since the ball game you all went to,” Helen added. “By the way, Elizabeth called this morning and I held off telling her all this. I didn’t want to get her wound up while she’s out of town. But after tonight, I started getting a little nervous. There’s definitely a change in Chris, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Ted looked down at his watch. “It’s nine-thirty. Do you think he’s asleep?”

  “I doubt it. I’ve been up and down the stairs at least a half dozen times this past hour. He hasn’t tried to block the door with his chair again, but the last time I peeked in, he was crouched in the corner of the room, trying to read with no lights on.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Helen opened the door and started leading the way.

  “If you don’t mind, maybe it would be better if just the two of us had a chat. Maybe he’ll feel more comfortable telling me what’s wrong.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed good-naturedly. “That’s a much better approach than ‘Tell us what’s wrong this minute so Sister Helen can get a good night’s sleep.’ You know the way. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  Ted didn’t remember any extreme nervousness in Christopher before the near tragedy in the subway station on Friday night. He climbed the steps to the room at the top of the stairs. He wished he knew more about the boy’s background, about his parents, about whatever he’d been doing that weekend that Ellie mentioned he’d disappeared.

  The light in the hallway was on, and the door ajar. He knocked and gently pushed open the door a little. Inside, the room was completely dark.

  “Chris?” he called softly, not wanting to wake the boy up if he was asleep.

  “Right here.”

  Ted opened the door all the way. The light from the hallway poured into the room.

  “There you are.” Crouched down in the corner farthest from the window, Chris had a book open in his lap. “Can I turn on the light?”

  “Uh…could you please…not turn it on?”

  “Sure thing.” There was no doubt in Ted’s mind that this boy was scared. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah. That’d be great.”

  Ted walked into the room. Everything was just as Helen had described it—including how stuffy and warm it was. He sat down on the foot of the bed. “What are you reading?”

  Chris closed the book and handed it to him. Ted looked at the title and then held it up to the light from the hallway to see the blurb on the back.

  “My eyes aren’t what they used to be. Is it a good book?”

  He nodded.

  “Scary?”

  “No.”

  “Funny.”

  “Kind of.”

  Ted decided to change the topic. “How did you like the baseball game Friday night?”

  “It was awesome,” the boy said, obviously meaning it.

  “We could go again next weekend.”

  Silence.

  “We don’t have to take the subway.”

  There was still silence.

  Ted planted his elbows on his thighs and looked closer at Chris. He was still crouched in the corner with his knees up. “I bought a new bat yesterday, and I was thinking about bringing it around tomorrow. Would you like to be the first one who tries it out?”

  He shook his head.

  Ted noticed for the first time how the boy kept glancing in the direction of the window. He got up from the bed and walked casually to it. “Hot in here. Do you mind if I crack this?”

  “I kind of like it closed. I’m really cold.” His voice was edged with panic. As if to prove his point, he dragged a quilt off the bed and pulled it on top of himself.

  “I’m sorry. I won’t open it.” He looked out the window. Nothing seemed out of place. The Dumpster beneath the street lamp, the cars parked along the street. With its mix of abandoned and inhabited houses, it was an all too typical South Philly neighborhood.

  Ted walked back, and instead of sitting on the bed, he plunked himself down on the floor next to Chris. He pointed to the quilt.

  “You don’t really need this, do you?”

  Chris shook his head and pushed back the heavy cover.

  Helen was definitely not imagining things. There was something wrong. But to get to the root of it was another story. Ted wondered how his sister Léa would feel if he called her now, looking for her professional expertise.

  Nine-thirty on Sunday night. The baby was probably asleep. Since school was finished, Heather would be out with her friends. That left Mick and Léa a couple of hours for each other. He decided against it.

  Anyway, Ted knew from experience what Léa would say in a situation like this. Keep talking. Keep listening.

  “Can I tell you something about myself?”

  Chris gave him a hesitant glance. “If you want to.”

  “I’m scared.”

  The boy’s eyes rounded instantly. His gaze went from Ted to the window and back.

  “Can I tell you what I’m scared of?”

  Chris nodded.

  “To be honest with you, a lot of things scare me,” he started. “I think the thing that scares me the most, though, is losing people that I love.”

  “I know you lost your girls.”

  Ted wasn’t surprised that Chris knew. Still, though, he had to take a couple of seconds to control his emotions before he could go on.

  “Did you know I also lost both my parents when I was a teenager? And then I lost my aunt. She took care of us after my parents died. After I…after I lost my girls…I got so sad…and scared. I got so scared that I wanted to just shut out the world. I didn’t want to feel anything. Because of that, I almost lost my sister, the only person I had left in this whole world.”

  “How did that happen?”

  Ted leaned his head against the wall, contemplating how to explain being found guilty of killing his own family. How could he explain the time he’d spent on death row? How does an adult explain a two-year bout of depression so severe that life itself, for a time, became meaningless? How could he put all that into a few simple words that an eight-year-old could understand?

  “You know how sometimes we do things that are wrong? And other times, we blame ourselves when something goes wrong. Then, there are times when somebody else does a bad thing to us, but we choose to ignore it, hoping it’ll just go away.” Ted looked at Chris. He still had the eight-year-old’s attention. “For me, it was a combination of all those things. The worst thing is that often those bad things don’t go away on their own. I had to face them and make them go away.”

  “What did you do wrong to your girls?”

  Ted hadn’t expected the direct question. “I…the night I lost them, I had an argument with their mother. I lost my temper. That was wrong. If I hadn’t let my anger at her boil over, maybe she’d have paid more attention. Maybe she’d have let our girls come home with me. Maybe then the terrible things wouldn’t have happened.”

  “This is the blaming part.”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Was it the bad people who hurt your kids?”

  Ted nodded again.

  “What did you do to those people?”

  “At first
, nothing. I was so sad about my family being gone that I couldn’t think of anything else. I never thought it was my responsibility to make sure those people were caught so that they couldn’t do the same thing to someone else.”

  “Could they hurt you, too?”

  “I didn’t care about me. But my sister was the one who was in real danger.”

  “How did you fix things?”

  Ted stretched his legs out. “I got the right people’s help. There were some real good people around me, and I had to tell them the truth and let them do their jobs.”

  “And the bad guys got caught?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Was your sister okay?”

  “She’s great now.” Ted sidestepped the question, not wanting to say anything about Léa’s final scare. He noticed, though, that Chris had not looked at the window for at least a couple of minutes. “Maybe sometime I could take you to her house for a family dinner.”

  The trace of a smile broke across the eight-year-old’s face. “When?”

  Twenty-Three

  Monday, June 28

  It was still dark outside the window of the motor lodge. Ellie heard the shower running. She rolled, stretched out across the bed and turned the alarm clock around. It was 4:07. Nate wanted to visit McGill at the hospital around dawn. He’d also told her she should sleep and that he would wake her up when he got back.

  Ellie sat up in bed, reached onto the floor and put on the first piece of clothing she found. It was Nate’s T-shirt. When she stood up, it covered her practically to her knees. Barely eaten containers of take-out food cluttered the top of a small table in the corner. Ellie swept them all into the trash can and wiped off the table before plugging in the small coffeemaker.

  The shower was still running when she got into the bathroom. She used the toilet, brushed her teeth and washed her face, and perched herself on the vanity, waiting for him to finish.

  Ellie once told Nate that sex with him would be a life-changing experience—shattering, she recalled saying—and it was scary to think how correct she’d been. Yesterday, they’d been all over each other in the elevator. Once in their room, the only thing either of them had worried about for the next couple of hours was getting enough air. Their dinner came in about nine, but even that had only been a temporary distraction.

  What had transpired in the past twenty-four hours was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life. With Nate, it wasn’t only the act of physically making love. He saw her for who she was. He understood her. He challenged her mind even while teasing her body. He made her talk to him and branded himself in her heart and mind.

  The water shut off. When he pulled the plastic shower curtain open, all she could do was stare for a moment and think of what she’d like to do to this wet human lollipop next. And she’d never felt like that before.

  “What are you doing up?” he asked with great surprise.

  “I wanted to see you before you left.” She tossed him his towel.

  He looked at her with such tenderness that Ellie felt herself go soft. “You’re constantly sacrificing your sleep for me. If we keep this up, we’ll both be suffering from sleep deprivation.”

  She smiled. “I started some coffee. I don’t think there’s any room service this early for breakfast.”

  “I don’t think there’s any room service, at all.” Wet and dripping, he stepped out of the tub and kissed her long and hard. She was light-headed when he pulled back. “But you’re the only breakfast I want right now.”

  “I didn’t want to be a distraction. I know you have to leave.” She took a hand towel off the rack and started patting the wet drops on his chest and neck. “I’ll be right here waiting, though, when you get back.”

  “Right here, sitting on the edge of the sink?” he asked with a smile.

  “If this is where you want me.”

  “Wearing my T-shirt?”

  “Okay.” Ellie loved the twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes.

  Nate took his razor and shaving cream out of a bag.

  “Can I watch you shave?”

  “Are you accustomed to watching ritual bloodletting ceremonies?”

  “Of course. Philadelphia is famous for them.” She watched closely every step of the process. Being with Nate filled gaps in so many experiences she’d missed in her life. Swimming in a clear running brook. Making love in the open air under a blue sky. Having Sunday morning brunch with a real family. Feeling personally as well as intellectually valued. Having sex more than once in twenty-four hours. And now, watching a man shave. Spending time with him also made her heart ache, as she was quickly finding out how it felt to fall for someone without having a clue what the future might bring.

  Ellie’s gaze followed the contours of the muscles in his arm, the wide powerful chest, the strong neck, the handsome face that was quickly disappearing under white foam, and she knew her infatuation ran much deeper than mere physical attraction. She liked his flaws just as much. He had a bum knee. He snored when he slept on his back. And the last time they made love last night—or was it this morning?—he’d even whispered to her that he would love to see her pregnant with their child. Never in her entire life had Ellie heard a man say such a thing to her. She knew it came from his heart. And she’d learned early in life that honesty that deep and uninhibited had to be a flaw.

  In just a few minutes, Nate successfully scraped away a day’s growth of whiskers and a substantial amount of skin.

  “What do you think?”

  Ellie was shocked at the number of nicks he’d given himself while shaving.

  “If the Red Cross sent a truck over every morning, they could have a steady supply for their blood banks.” She stood up, moistened the corner of a wash towel and started dabbing the bloody spots.

  “How can you look so good this early?” His fingers delved into her hair, and he brought her face to his.

  “Are you sure you don’t wear contacts, because I’m told that in the morning I look like a twelve-year-old having a bad hair day.”

  “And who told you that?” His lips brushed against hers and moved down to her neck.

  “Vic.”

  “Ah…the last person you should listen to.” His hand caressed her breast through the T-shirt. “Look at that beautiful woman.”

  Ellie followed his gaze and saw their reflection in the mirrored bathroom door. She looked tousled and sleepy, but he was magnificent—naked and fully aroused beneath the towel that was tied loosely around his waist.

  “There’s going to have to be a little change of plans about when I get back.”

  Ellie leaned into his touch, dropping the wash towel on the floor. “What do you mean?”

  He put a dry towel on the vanity and lifted her easily onto it. Her legs were dangling over the edge, and he stepped between them. “I still want you sitting on this sink, but I want my shirt back.”

  Ellie shivered as he peeled the shirt over her head.

  “Look at you now.”

  Heat rushed into her face when she looked over and saw how her nipples were extended. Her body was straining for his touch.

  “Don’t take your eyes off those two in the mirror,” he whispered to her when she reached for him.

  The towel around his waist dropped down to the floor. Still watching him in the mirror, Ellie slid forward a little, expectant. Instead, Nate pushed back her arms until her breasts were fully exposed to his face, and gently opened her legs. And then, she watched as he began a slow, torturous journey down her body—kissing, tasting, tormenting her in the most exquisite ways.

  The reflection was wickedly arousing, and Ellie shivered as waves of ecstasy rippled through her. Wanting to give in to the feelings and yet wanting to hold on to them, she fought the pressures building rapidly within her. Finally, when she thought she could take no more, Nate drove himself fully into her, and she exploded in a dazzling kaleidoscope of sensations.

  Lost in the waves of rapture even as she answered his thr
usts, Ellie recalled Nate’s last flaw and found herself wishing for the same thing.

  There’d been a significant improvement in McGill during the night. Although he was still in the intensive care unit, late last night he’d been taken off the ventilator.

  Tom’s parents had been keeping their vigil around the clock, taking turns staying at the hospital every night.

  Nate met Tom’s father in the long corridor when he arrived at six.

  “He was hoping that you’d stop back, Agent Murtaugh,” the older man said. Weariness did little to dampen his enthusiasm. “With the ventilator off, Tom has even spoken to us. There were moments when I wondered if I’d ever hear him say another word.”

  The officer’s father choked for a moment with emotion, and Nate put a hand on his shoulder.

  In a minute, the man took a deep breath and composed himself. “He even asked me if there was a way I could get hold of you today.”

  “Has Chief Buckley been told of Tom’s progress?”

  “No. It was too late to call anyone last night.”

  Nate was relieved about that. After a word with the staff member in charge, he was led to the police officer’s bedside. Despite the remarkable improvements, Tom was still terribly weak.

  “Take your time,” Nate told him after some initial small talk. He put a pen and a pad of paper on the hospital bed, not knowing what would be easier. He pulled a chair close and sat down. Rather than asking specific questions, Nate wanted to hear what McGill had to say…about anything.

  “The boy. Chris,” Tom said. His throat was obviously hoarse, and Nate knew it was painful for the officer to speak.

  Nate gave him a complete rundown, finishing up by telling him that Chris was in Philadelphia where he was staying with some nuns.

  “They were after him,” Tom said.

  “The people who ran you down?”

  The officer nodded. “Two.”

  “There were two of them,” Nate repeated, taking notes. “Would you be able to identify them?”