He didn’t listen, didn’t understand, didn’t care. She had to get through to him. But she didn’t know how, which was pathetic. They had been married for twenty-two years. They had a daughter they loved. Emily didn’t want a divorce.
The question was whether she could survive, alone this way. She had so much to give, so much love and caring that she was choked by it sometimes.
She passed through the center of town, crossed the street, and started back. Her pace grew more sane as her anger wore itself out. In its place was a deep, dark, familiar hole that took away all the warmth, the hope, the pleasure of life. She had always thought it had Daniel’s name on it. She wondered now if it didn’t have Doug’s.
She zipped her jacket, tucked her hands in its pockets, and pulled up the collar. Even then she shivered.
Shadows lurked on either side, but she didn’t look as she passed. She kept her eyes straight ahead, her thoughts focused on reaching the house, climbing into bed, and burrowing under a mountain of blankets. She figured she might stay there forever.
Foolish thought. But she couldn’t think of a better one.
She tried to clear her mind by concentrating on breathing in, breathing out, relaxing the muscles of her thighs, her arms, her back as she walked, but the chill fought her, tightening everything she tried to loosen. By the time she reached China Pond Road, she gave up the struggle. Eternity under a mountain of blankets was sounding less foolish with each cold step.
She was nearly home when she saw him, sitting on her steps, rising when she approached. She slowed. Her knees were startlingly weak, given the stiffness of her legs, but they managed to take her to where he stood.
“I saw you leave,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, God,” she breathed in a sigh. “I wish I knew.”
When he opened an arm, she moved into it. She felt it close around her, felt a large hand press her head to his chest, felt intense relief. If there was impropriety in the embrace, she didn’t care. He was warm and strong. She figured that absorbing even a teeny bit of either quality would be an improvement.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, he with his arms wrapped around her, she with her eyes closed and all responsibility for herself and her life momentarily forgotten. She relaxed as she hadn’t been able to do on the walk home. She inhaled his warmth. She made a small sound of pleasure, then one of protest when he started to pull back.
“You’re freezing,” he said in a half-whisper. “Let me get you inside.”
Inside was his place, and she didn’t argue. The apartment was pleasantly messy, but peaceful. It didn’t hold the memories for her that the house did, now that it was renovated and filled with Brian’s things.
The hot chocolate he gave her felt good going down. So did his presence. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and he wore them well. So she simply sat and let the sight of him do for her what his arms had outside.
He settled beside her on the sofa. “Better?”
She nodded. She held her hot chocolate in both hands and kept her eyes on him.
“Julia said ‘Daddy’ tonight. Screamed it actually, in protest. I was changing her. She has a diaper rash. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Try zinc ointment.”
“Zinc ointment?”
“It’s messy, and it smells, but it usually does the trick.”
She wondered what it was about Brian that she found so appealing. Feature for feature, he wasn’t as handsome as Doug, but the overall package was far more appealing. It was masculine, yet approachable. More than approachable. Hard to resist.
Not sure about the direction of that thought, she hitched her chin toward the folders that were strewn on the coffee table. “What are you reading?”
“Files of all the juvenile offenses committed in town in the last few years. John wanted to wake me up. Kids here aren’t as innocent as I thought.”
“You’re talking about the vandalism.” In recent months there had been a rash of minor incidents—spray-painted graffiti, broken windows, even a cemetery desecration.
“Vandalism seems to be in vogue right now, but there’s still the occasional truck race at the quarry and the more than occasional orgy on the railroad bridge. The races and the orgies are the work of the trade school kids and coincide with their school schedule. The vandalism is more random, a little something here, a little something there. Individuals may be behind it, rather than a gang. I’ll see what I can pick up at the high school. I work pretty well with kids.”
“And to think you’re afraid of Julia,” she teased.
“Julia’s mine. That’s one difference. Another is that she can’t communicate.”
“Many high school kids can’t either,” Emily said, and felt instantly hypocritical. She wasn’t communicating with Brian about what had sent her out walking. Her reason? She liked being with him. She didn’t want to taint that time with her problems. She didn’t want to dwell on those problems, period. “Have you been to the school?”
“Not yet. I needed a cop’s view of the town first. Sam Webber’s been taking me with him on patrol.”
“I haven’t seen Sam in a while. We were together a lot while we were doing the book. How is he?”
“Fine, I guess. Wary. I’m the new guy on the force.” He waved the problem away. “But it’ll get better.” His hands fell between his knees. He regarded her expectantly for a minute. Then he sighed and smiled.
In that instant, Emily wanted to set down her drink and return to his arms.
Thinking better of it, she set down her drink and rose. “I’d better leave you to your work.”
He was beside her before she reached the door and followed her down the stairs. At the bottom, she turned back and focused in the general area of his chest. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“You did. Believe me.”
“I wish I could do more.”
She closed her eyes against the torment of having Doug distant and Brian close, Doug cold and Brian warm. It was a complication in what had become for her a terribly complicated world. She didn’t need it.
Ah, but she did. When Brian drew her close, her arms went around him. She breathed him in and thought improper thoughts, and when a humming began inside, she enjoyed it—but for only a brief, forbidden minute. Then she drew back and with a guilty little smile, let herself out.
• • •
Early Monday morning, Brian strapped Julia into the back of the Jeep, tossed his files into the front, and was about to follow them in when he glanced at the house. There was no sign of life, unusual for Emily, who customarily had the kitchen door ajar. Granted, it was a cool morning. But she hadn’t brought the newspaper in either, and she usually did that before seven. After last night, he was concerned.
He fetched the paper from the front walk, climbed the steps, knocked, and waited with a hand on his hip and his head bowed. When there was no response, he knocked louder. He shaded his eyes and peered inside. Everything was neat. There was no sign of mayhem.
Not that he expected it. Not from Emily.
But then, he hadn’t expected Gayle to be hit by a car. He had shown up too late to do anything about that, but if Emily’s upset of the night before had taken a turn for the worse, and if he walked off just like her asshole husband and came back too late, he would never forgive himself.
He tried the bell, though she must have been roused by his knock, because he had barely removed his finger when he saw her making her way through the kitchen, tying a robe. She ran a hand through her hair, opened the door, and gave him a groggy smile.
He felt suddenly foolish. “Hey. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Not your fault. I was the one who overslept. I had trouble falling asleep.”
Brooding about her husband, no doubt. “I’m sorry for that.”
She repeated the headshake, repeated, “Not your fault.”
“Well, I’m sorry, anyway.” A noise came from
the car, but he ignored it. Emily was more needy than Julia just then. “Certainly sorry I woke you. I was worried. I hate seeing you down.”
He wished she would tell him about what had happened with Doug. It couldn’t have been rewarding, not with her clinging to him the way she had last night.
But she didn’t betray her husband. All she said was, “I’m better, I think.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Thanks for caring.”
“I do.” What to blame it on? The vacuum left by Gayle’s death? The inherent unfairness of Emily’s situation? The fact that she was his landlord or that, as a homemaker, she was an endangered species? Or, simply, that she was small and vulnerable-looking? Whatever, he felt protective.
So he handed her the paper. “Go back to bed.”
“I might.” Her gaze dropped a notch. “Neat tie.”
It was a garish thing, toned down by a white shirt, jeans, and a venerable corduroy baseball jacket. He was about to say something about establishing his identity in the department, when Julia cried again.
“Your fan club calls,” Emily said with a glance at the Jeep.
“We’re stopping at the drugstore. Zinc ointment?”
She nodded, then waved when he pulled out of the driveway. Holding the image, he headed for town.
Content now that the car was in motion, Julia was a pretty picture in his rearview mirror. He had tried something new this morning, letting her play in the bath while he shaved, then rinsing her off with him in the shower. She hadn’t loved the shower part as much as the bath part, but he figured she would get used to it. It sure had saved time.
“How ya doin’, toots?” he called back. “Feelin’ good? So am I.” He kept picturing Emily waving him off. “Look at those trees!” They were red and orange, vibrant in the autumn sun. “They didn’t look like that in New York, let me tell you, not even in the park.”
He wondered how much she remembered.
“Mom-mee.”
Lots, apparently. “Mommy’s not here. Just Daddy. He’s going to take you to the drugstore, then to Janice’s. Where’s bunny?”
He breathed a sigh of relief when she waved the rabbit in the air. Yesterday he had forgotten it and had to turn around and go back. He had been late getting to work, which hadn’t bothered John any, but Brian sensed that the others had noticed. Sam wasn’t the only one wary of him. They all were. Not only was he the new guy on the block and from New York City, but he was a detective lieutenant, answering only to John.
Brian wasn’t desperate for the approval of the others on the force. He wasn’t looking for tight friends, didn’t have time for them, what with Julia. But good rapport would make for a more pleasant work environment, and in the absence of heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping, sweat-popping criminality, a pleasant work environment would be nice. Showing up late two days in a row wouldn’t help.
He nosed into a space in front of the drugstore, jumped from the car, and was halfway across the sidewalk when he heard Julia’s protest. Backtracking, he pulled open the door and leaned in. “Zinc ointment. That’s all I’m getting. Two seconds. It’ll be easier if you stay here.”
“Ah-kahhh.”
“You don’t want to keep bunny company?”
“No.”
He sighed and reached for her. “Okay. Let’s make this quick.” Tucking her under his arm, he strode into the store. The owner and his wife were in their day-time places. “How are you, Harold?”
“Not bad, Detective.”
“Zinc ointment?”
“Last aisle over.”
Brian went to the last aisle over and found the ointment in a snap. Figuring that between the ease of that and his brilliance in putting Julia in the tub earlier, he might just be on a roll, he headed for the photo booth at the back of the store.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of quarters. “Let’s give it another shot, toots. One good one. That’s all Grammie wants. You, me, and my neat tie. She’ll be thrilled.” He slid into the booth. “No, no, baby, don’t stiffen up. Just take it easy, take it easy while I get these things in.” He fiddled with the quarters, but Julia was arching her back and twisting, and just when he finally managed to get the first quarter into the slot, a loud buzzer sounded outside the booth.
Julia broke into a wail to rival the buzzer, which went on and on and on.
Brian ducked out of the booth. Muffling her cries against his shirt, he unsnapped the service revolver holstered under his jacket, and stole around the back of the aisle for a view of the cash register.
Harold was there, calmly talking with a teenaged boy. The buzzer stilled. Harold’s wife, Mary Elizabeth, joined them. Neither Harold nor Mary Elizabeth seemed threatened.
Straightening, Brian relaxed his hold of Julia, whose cries subsided into sniffles. Snapping his revolver back into place, he approached the front of the store.
The boy looked to be seventeen or eighteen and, judging from his clothes, well-off. He wore tan bucks, designer jeans and shirt, and a jacket whose butter-soft leather oozed style. His backpack was high-end L.L. Bean. It lay open on the counter, having disgorged the large bottle of vitamin C that had set off the alarm. Harold held it now, along with two candy bars.
“I must have dropped it in there when I went for my money,” the boy was saying, sounding neither apologetic nor embarrassed.
Harold spoke quietly. “Do you want to buy it?”
The boy dug into his pocket and pulled out a twenty.
“Everything all right here?” Brian asked.
Harold shot him a quick look as he rang in the sale. “Just fine. No problem.”
Brian wasn’t sure he believed that and glanced around, wondering if the boy had accomplices, if a greater threat lay beyond the immediate action. He didn’t see anything more suspicious than a shiny new sports car waiting at the curb.
When the boy pocketed his change and headed for it, Brian put the zinc ointment and a five in Mary Elizabeth’s waiting hand. “Was it an accident?” he asked Harold, who shrugged. “Has it happened before?”
This time the shrug was more a quirk of the brows. “He isn’t a bad boy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Richie Berlo.”
“Berlo, as in the walled-in mansion on the corner of Sycamore and LaGrange?” Brian passed the place every day on his way into town. Sam had given him a rundown on the money behind it, which would easily explain the car and the twenty.
“The same.”
“Does the father know the boy has a problem?”
“It isn’t really a problem.”
True, the boy didn’t have a rap sheet. Brian would have noticed if there had been a file among those in the car. Still. “Shoplifting is against the law. Why else do you have this alarm system?”
“Look, Detective,” Harold said lightly, “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, the alarm’s there to catch thieves, but Richie Berlo is the son of Grannick’s biggest donor. Nestor Berlo has built us a library and a senior citizens’ center, and he’s a major donor to the college, and the college means business for us.” He chuckled. “It was only a bottle of vitamin C, and the boy did pay for it. I’m only sorry the alarm upset your daughter.”
Brian took the tube of zinc ointment and his change. He wasn’t worried about Julia, who had quieted nicely. “You may not be doing that boy a favor by looking the other way. It’s sending him a bad message.”
Harold only smiled and shooed him out the door.
Brian might have stayed to argue if he had more time, but he had already spent longer at the drugstore than he intended, and by the time he left Julia at Janice’s, picked up coffee at Nell’s, and drove to the police station, his mind had moved on.
The department had two computers. He had hoped to use one to type up the notes he had made after reading the juvenile records, since John wouldn’t ever be able to decipher his scribbles. But both computers were in use when he arrived, so he picked up the report from the night bef
ore.
There had been one drunk driving arrest, one suspected prowler, one heart attack, and one stolen car—a tame night, by Brian’s standards, a typical one by Grannick’s.
Setting the report aside, he checked the computers again. When he found them still in use, he went to John’s office. “Got a minute?” he asked from the door.
John waved him in.
He wandered along the side of the room with his hands in his pockets. “I reread the file on Daniel Arkin. I take it you weren’t in charge of the case at the time.” He wanted to know how freely he could speak without insulting John.
“I was assigned to Emily and Doug. Chief called the shots. Say what you want.”
Brian accepted the invitation. “The investigation left some holes. There were people in the post office at the time of the abduction who were never questioned.”
John wasn’t fazed. “They were inside the whole time. They said they didn’t see anything. Chief didn’t see the point in pursuing them as witnesses.”
“Sometimes people see things without knowing it. One of them might have gone out for a smoke, or seen something out of the ordinary inside but thought nothing of it. There were also people in the stores across the street who weren’t questioned. The owners were, but not their customers.”
“Chief felt that in a town like Grannick, if any of those had seen something, they’d have come forward on their own. He didn’t want to badger.”
Brian stopped at the desk. “Christ, John, a little boy disappeared. It might have been worth the badgering.”
John held up a hand. “I’m just telling you Chief’s rationale. Most everyone knew Emily. Most everyone liked her. Chief assumed that for her sake alone, anyone who knew anything would have come forward.”
Brian sighed. “Well, that sounds good, but you and I both know it doesn’t always work that way. What if someone saw another person, a friend, or the friend of a friend, doing something suspicious, and didn’t want to implicate that person?”
“Emily talked with some of those others who were in the stores. She was asking questions long after we stopped. She couldn’t let it go. Not that she was loud about it. She just kept after us in her own quiet way. I did some extra questioning on my own. Once I got to know her, I had a personal stake in it. But there was only so much I could do then, once Chief said enough, and now, well, a lot of them are gone, moved on to other places.”
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