Along Came December
Page 11
Then one night he came home bloody.
He was late. He was so, so late, and he wasn’t answering his phone. I’d pulled on my shoes and jacket, ready to go find him myself, when I heard the elevator shudder to a stop. I whipped out into the hallway as the elevator doors opened and reeled back against the wall just as quick. It was Max, and his shirt was dripping crimson.
He glanced up at me tiredly. “Hey, Shirley.”
My mouth opened but no sound came out. Max grimaced.
“There was an accident on the freeway and I stopped to help. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
I staggered backward, clutching at the wall. My legs were like jelly. I was breathing way too fast.
“Shirley? Are you okay?”
He was dying. He was cut to ribbons like the vice sergeant and they’d find his body in the park, his hands in the flowers and his head… his head in the…
Suddenly he was right in front of me, reaching for me, and a scream tore up my throat. I turned and ran for the fire exit, throwing the door open and stumbling down the steps. I had to leave. I had to go. I had to get out now.
My vision was going dark, and my legs got tangled up beneath me. I grabbed for the railing but Max grabbed me first.
“Shirley, stop! What are you doing?”
I strained forward, and we fell together onto the landing. For a second I was free but then Max had me again, his arms locked around me like prison bars. I felt the blood on his shirt and began to sob.
Max held tighter. “It’s okay, it’s okay, just relax. Just take a deep breath, Shirley. Just relax.”
I couldn’t breathe. My heart kept skipping beats and I prayed Max would just leave me there to die. He wasn’t supposed to know. He was supposed to think better of me than this.
“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not my blood. I’m fine.”
I struggled against him. “No, no—”
“Just relax, sweetheart, I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
“Get off me!” I screamed. “Let me go let me go—”
“It’s okay—”
“Let me go!”
I wrenched an arm free and swung wildly, my elbow slamming into something soft. Max cried out, his grip on me loosening. I shoved hard at his chest and pulled free. He grabbed for me but I was running again, down the stairs, crashing through the door and bursting into the night.
I flew across the lawn and down the alley. I could hear Max behind me, but his footsteps were fading, his voice growing faint. “Shirley! Shirley, wait! Wait!”
I didn’t wait. I’d never wait for him again. I ran, knocking into fences and tumbling over garbage cans. I ran until I couldn’t hear him anymore, until the only sound was the blood storming in my ears, and when there was nothing left in my legs or lungs, I collapsed to my knees and cried.
IT WAS all his fault.
He was the one who didn’t call. He was the one who showed up covered in blood. He was the one on the Garrison case, putting himself at risk every day. It was his fault, his stupid decisions, not mine.
It was all my fault.
I pursued him. I misled him. I pretended. I evaded. I lied.
I fell in love, and it cost me everything.
My fingers curled around my phone, heavy in my pocket. Eleven calls from Max before I turned it off. Eleven calls in seven minutes. By now he’d be a wreck.
The thought made me ache. I knew I was hurting him, but this would be best for both of us. Max deserved someone capable of sustaining a relationship, and the attacks would go away again if I was on my own. I let things go too far between us. I’d known it wouldn’t last forever.
I’d just wanted a little more time.
I zipped my jacket higher, hunched against the chill. The night was calm and quiet. The street lamps were dim. The train station was another hour and a half away.
I’d call the academy in the morning to tell them I wasn’t returning. I’d never be a cop in Briar Rose now, but maybe I could get on somewhere else before my problem was on record. I’d probably have to leave the state, not that it mattered. There was nothing to keep me here anymore.
In the meantime I’d go to Seattle. I could stay with my sister for a while, if she wasn’t still upset with me for punching out her boyfriend. If we had anything in common it was our lousy taste in men, at least before I met Max. He was special. He was good. I’d text him from the train to apologize. That I could do. Just as long as I didn’t have to face him again.
Dawn was beginning to stitch together by the time I reached the train station. My first stop was for a coffee, my second for a ticket. My train would leave in less than an hour.
I settled in to wait on the upper mezzanine, watching the trains crawl in and out of the switchyard below. I’d spent a lot of time here growing up, traveling back and forth between my mom in Seattle and my dad in Briar Rose. Frances stopped wanting to visit our dad when she turned thirteen, but I took every opportunity to get away from my mother. Briar Rose had always been home to me, my sanctuary. And now I had to go.
My boarding call came over the loudspeaker and I got to my feet, tossing my coffee cup in the trash. I turned to the stairs, and what I saw sent my heart into a staccato.
People were coming toward me, and one of them was Max.
Everything happened all at once. I looked at the others and knew they were his teammates. I realized what he’d done and what they were here to do. I took a step back. My eyes met Max’s, and he began to run.
I panicked.
I stepped back again, again and again. He was going to catch me. He was going to catch me and take me away, and there’d be nothing I could do. I’d never be a cop. I’d never be anything.
My back pressed against the mezzanine railing and I almost cried. They were between me and the stairs, me and my exit, and if I didn’t get out right now it would be too late. I had to get out. Get out.
My hands curled around the railing.
“Shirley!” Max cried. “Shirley!”
He was reaching for me now, his team right behind him. In one swift movement I was up and over the railing, suspended by my fingertips above the switchyard.
Max lunged. “No, don’t! Don’t!!”
I let go.
“SHIRLEY!!”
The rails came up fast. I landed in a heap, smacking my head against the platform’s edge. Sight and sound flickered out, and when they came back all I knew was the rumble on the tracks and the high, keen whistle of a train.
I was about to be hit by a train.
I scrambled for the platform, my hands slipping, my legs buckling. The whistle shrieked. People screamed. I couldn’t get up. Then someone was beside me, grabbing me, dragging me up and rolling me clear just as the train screeched past. For one heartbeat I laid motionless, and then I was jerked forward by my shirt, nose to nose with Detective O’Reilly.
“Are you crazy? Are you out of your fucking mind?! You were almost roadkill, you stupid—”
“Stop! Stop it!”
Max’s voice jolted me back into panic. I struggled frantically, twisting and clawing, but my arms were caught and pinned against the floor. I burst into tears.
“Get off her, Paddy, for God’s sake!” Max cried. “Shirley, Shirley, it’s okay—”
“Max,” someone said, then, “Paddy. That isn’t helping.”
“She’s gonna rabbit,” Paddy growled. “She’s gonna get herself killed.”
I felt a touch on my arm and flinched away with a whimper.
“Shirley, can you hear me? I want you to nod your head if you can hear me.”
I managed a nod.
“Good. My name is Kristoph. Is it okay if I call you Shirley?”
I nodded again, gasping.
“I’m going to ask my friend to let you up, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to sit up nice and slow, okay? I want you to say yes if you think you can do that.”
“Yes,” I whispered, desperate to get free.
�
�Good,” Kristoph said. “You’re doing great. I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay? Just to help you up.”
I felt his hand, and then the crushing weight lifted off me. I crawled backward but Kristoph stopped me, murmuring, “Take your time. Sit up nice and slow, that’s it. Good. Do you think you can open your eyes?”
I opened my eyes. Kristoph knelt in front of me but I looked past him, my eyes darting between the crowd and the cops, between the kid pointing at me and the man on his phone and the lady just staring, and Max was staring and he was crying and Paddy looked so angry and Lieutenant Dixon—
“Look at me, Shirley,” Kristoph said. “What color are my eyes?”
I looked at his eyes, blinking fast. He didn’t blink at all.
“Blue,” I whispered.
“What color is my hair?”
“Blonde. Really—” My voice disappeared and I swallowed. “Really blonde.”
“What does my shirt look like?”
“It’s… it’s…”
Kristoph held my hand against my stomach. “Deep breaths, Shirley, all the way to your hand. Have you ever done yoga?” I shook my head. He smiled. “I do yoga. Yoga is about connecting with your breath. I want you to concentrate on feeling your breath, okay? Feel your hand move as you breathe. That’s very good, Shirley. Focus on your breath.”
I breathed in. I breathed out. He asked, “Would you like some water?”
“No. I mean, no thank you.”
“Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
Uncaring eyes weighed heavily on me, and my hand trembled against my stomach. “Everyone’s staring at me,” I whispered.
“They’re staring at me,” Kristoph said. “I’m wearing a pretty ugly shirt today. You never told me what it looked like.”
He touched my arm, drawing me back. I looked at his eyes, clear and friendly, then studied his shirt. “It’s purple, with triangles on it. It’s nice.”
“I’m wearing purple socks, too. It’s a matching set.”
“A socks and sweater set?”
“It was a gift,” said Kristoph, smiling. “My partner gave it to me.”
I glanced at the big man with the beet-red face. “Paddy?”
Kristoph laughed. “No, my other partner.” He showed me the white band on his finger. “Sam. It was our anniversary last week.”
“What anniversary is a socks and sweater set?”
“Second. Cotton.”
“What was your gift?”
“I got him a shirt too, for when he’s on stage. He’s a concert pianist.”
“Sam?” I sat up a little straighter. “Samuel Clearwater?”
“That’s him. Have you seen him play?”
“Once, maybe four or five years ago. He was amazing.”
“He really is,” Kristoph agreed. “Are you a musician, Shirley?”
“I play guitar. I used to play in a band. Just a cover band, though. Nothing like what he does.”
“He’s playing a concerto next month at Rotary Hall. You should come. I could introduce you if you want.”
I blinked. Kristoph smiled at me. “Okay,” I said hesitantly. “That’s very generous of you.”
“My pleasure. There’s someone else I’d like to introduce you to, officially, at least. I know you’ve been in touch via email.”
“Okay,” I said again, and then Lieutenant Dixon was crouched in front of me too, his eyes soft behind thick-rimmed glasses.
“Shirley, this is Lieutenant Dixon,” Kristoph said. “He oversees Old Town’s homicide unit. Dixon, this is Shirley.”
“I’m pleased to finally meet you, Shirley,” Dixon said, shaking my hand. “How are you?”
“I’m good, sir,” I said automatically. “It’s an honor…”
My words caught up to me and I realized they were true. I was good. I was okay. I stared at Kristoph in astonishment. “How did you do that?”
He smiled. “I just gave you something else to think about.”
“Can you teach me?” I blurted. “I mean, can you show me how?”
Kristoph and Dixon exchanged a glance, and I had to laugh at what they’d done. “Wow. You’re good. You tricked me into agreeing to treatment.”
“There’s no trick,” said Dixon.
“But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s what Max…”
“Max came to his friends for help.”
“But you tracked my credit card,” I protested. “That’s the only way you could have found me, and the only way you’re allowed to do that is if you put out a missing persons, and the only way you could do that so fast is if he told you… is if Max said I was…”
Dixon said it quietly. “Mentally unstable?”
I nodded, anxiety swelling in my chest. “And now that you found me you have to detain me and take me for a psychiatric assessment, where I’ll be evaluated within three hours of my arrival but held for up to three days, and the court can order treatment even if I don’t want it and it’ll go on my record and they won’t let me be a cop—”
“Feel your breath,” Kristoph said.
“But—”
“You’ve studied your legislation,” said Dixon. “That’s good. That’s the foundation of law enforcement. But you’re six weeks into your career, Shirley. You’re still in the academy. There are things you don’t know yet.”
Something like hope sparked inside me. “What are you saying?”
Dixon lifted an eyebrow, though there was a hint of a smile. “I’m saying homicide detectives don’t chase down missing persons. Tonight is off the record.”
I buried my face in my hands and cried.
“How long have you had panic attacks?” Dixon asked, when I’d calmed down.
I swiped at my eyes. “A while.”
“You failed to disclose this information during your application.”
“They would have turned me away,” I whispered. “I thought I could handle it.”
Dixon steadied his elbows on his knees and leaned toward me. “Can you handle it?”
I swallowed. I could see my reflection in his glasses, my face blotchy from crying, my hair laced with dirt. My eyes fell shut. “No.”
“You ever seen someone for this?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Denial?”
“Why not, Shirley?”
“Does it matter?”
Dixon lifted an eyebrow. I toyed with the zipper on my coat and mumbled, “It’s my dad.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He, um, he was in the military. He went to Somalia when I was little.”
Dixon waited. I folded my arms across my stomach, forcing them to move with every breath.
“He got hurt. There was a bomb and he…” My lungs felt cold. I hugged myself tighter. “He came back in a wheelchair and he had these attacks…”
“Post-traumatic stress,” said Dixon.
I nodded. “They were supposed to go away but instead they got worse. He’d been on meds since he came home, and they just kept giving him more and more to keep him calm, until—” My chest squeezed painfully and I teared up. “Until he was so calm he didn’t have any feelings at all, and he didn’t recognize anyone when we came to visit and now he just sits there in his chair all day, all by himself. He’s smart, and he’s funny, but the drugs took it all away and now he’s… it’s like he doesn’t exist. And I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“You want to be a cop,” said Dixon.
“I want to be a cop,” I whispered. I swallowed, dread punching a hole in my chest. “Am I fired?”
Dixon slipped his glasses off. He held them up to the light and wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt. He placed them back on the bridge of his nose. “Not if you can learn to cope with this. Your business is your business, but this is non-negotiable. You understand?”
“It’s not always like this,” I said weakly, but Dixon silenced me with a look.
“You could have been killed today. Paddy could have been killed today trying to save your life. There’s no place for you on my team if you’re putting people at risk, including yourself. Get this under control.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Get a diagnosis. Then get treatment.”
“But a diagnosis will go on my record—”
“It’s time to take responsibility, Shirley. Get diagnosed, get it on record, then show me and everyone else you’re willing to do whatever it takes to be police. I’ll help you where I can, but your future is up to you. Am I clear?”
“Yes sir,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze.
“That’s better. Now what are you going to do?”
I pulled in a big breath and let it out slow. I looked Dixon in the eye. “I’m going to meet with a psychiatrist for an assessment. Right now. I’ll go right now.”
“There’s a doctor at Memorial I think you’d like,” Kristoph said. “She’s a cognitive behavior therapist.”
“A what?”
“She’ll teach you how to change your thought processes. That’s what I was helping you with earlier.”
“How did you know how to do that?”
“I was a patient of hers. I’m afraid of dentists.”
“But now you’re better?”
“Now I manage it better. Would you like me to call and ask if she can see you?”
“Okay,” I said, before I could change my mind. “Will she… is she going to give me drugs?”
“She’ll use other methods first, and she’s good at what she does.” Kristoph offered me his hand. “Come on. We’ll drive you.”
He helped me up, steadying me when I swayed. I worked my fingers through my hair and winced when I found a goose egg behind my ear. “I think I’d better see the other kind of doctor first.”
“We’ll take you to emergency,” Kristoph agreed. “But there’s someone else who’d like to see you, too.”
He looked toward the broad staircase leading up to the mezzanine. Sitting on the bottom step were Paddy and Max, both of them watching me.
“Can you manage?” Kristoph asked. I nodded. He let me go. “We’ll be waiting when you’re ready.”