Sam waved her hand at him. “Of course I do.”
His mother tossed her head back and laughed. Nick loved the musical sound of her laugh, like a deep, low saxophone all drawn out. It was one of his favorite sounds. Settling back in his chair, he waited for his mother to tell her story.
“Nick was my youngest, of course. And by a lot.” She looked at Sam, who leaned forward to listen. “He was born when the next oldest, Alexander, was already nine. Everybody was busy with their own thing, including me. So, some days he’d come home from school and let himself in.” She looked at her son and shook her head.
He grinned.
Sam laughed and he winked at her.
“I’m telling a story here. Do you mind?”
Sam blushed and Nick hung his head in mock shame.
“So, when he did that he was supposed to start on his homework. I was very clear about what he was supposed to do. No TV, no friends over, no playing until that homework was done. So I’m at the school with one of the older kids and I get this call from the principal, asking for me. I go down there and he tells me the police are on the line.”
Sam grinned and Nick watched her watching his mother.
“The police!” his mother exclaimed, her palm to her chest. She said “po-lice,” like it was two different words. “You know what that does to a mother’s heart? So, I run to the phone, cursing up and down. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with whichever one of the kids is in trouble. The officer tells me that they caught someone breaking into my house.” She paused for a dramatic breath and let her mouth drop open. “Someone in my house!” she exclaimed, her voice rising.
Everyone was mesmerized by her voice, leaning forward to catch every word. His mother could capture an audience like no one he’d ever seen. And here she was, telling a story most of them had heard a hundred times. He smiled and watched her, glad that he had brought Sam to meet her.
“Dear Lord! My first thought was my baby Nicky was at home in that house. Before I could utter a word, that police officer—he told me the thief said he was my child.”
She paused and shook her head, looking up at the ceiling and pretending to talk to God. “My child,” she whispered, still shaking her head. “My child. My child was robbing my house? The police officer tells me that they caught this child breaking a window to get into my house. And then this child claimed he lived there.”
She shook her head some more and looked around the table. “So I said, ‘Officer, what is this child’s name?’ And the officer said—”
“Nick,” Tracy and Kevin and Gina all spit out together. Then the whole table dissolved into laughter.
“Nick,” his mother repeated. “They said that my six-year-old son had broken into his own house. I said to that police officer, ‘Why?” ’ She grinned, focusing on Nick from across the table. “But I already knew why. See, my baby Nick can’t ever keep track of his keys.”
Sam burst out laughing.
“She knows you already,” his mother said.
Nick put his hands flat on the table and leaned toward Sam. “I’ve never lost my keys with you,” he shouted playfully. “How come you’re laughing?”
Sam looked up, her eyes bright with laughter. “Rob says they’ve had Triple A at two practices already this year. You’re always losing your keys on the field.”
The room lit up and Nick shook his head.
He shrugged. “You got me there.”
“That’s not nearly as bad as his first case,” Gina piped up.
Nick threw her a threatening look, but she didn’t even blink.
“What about his first case?” Sam asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Nothing,” he said, smiling.
Sam looked back at Gina. “Tell me.”
“Well, here’s Nick, this rookie, right? It’s his first crime scene. He’s there with his partner and it’s a burglary. So, they look through the house, and at some point Nick puts the keys to the squad car down—in the middle of this crime scene.
“They take a statement and call it in. Turns out the detective lives nearby, and he gets there before Nick and his partner can leave. As they’re heading out, Nick realizes he doesn’t have his keys.” She grinned.
Sam laughed.
“So they go back into the house, but by this time the detective has already found the keys and put them in an evidence bag—because the lady said they didn’t belong to her.”
“Oh, no,” Sam groaned.
“Nick tries to get them back, but the detective says no. Wants to teach this rookie cop a lesson.” She paused for effect, just as her mother had done. “So the detective impounds the car and sends it to the lab to be printed. Nick and his partner have to check out another car and deal with their captain about where theirs is. Finally, after three days, the detective releases the car.”
“It took me a full weekend of cleaning that damn car to get the printing dust out of the seats.”
Sam laughed and shook her head.
“But I never did that again,” Nick said.
“Yeah, now he leaves his keysin the car,” Gina added.
Everyone laughed.
The room settled into normal conversation, and Sam looked over at Nick and smiled. He could tell she was genuinely enjoying herself, and he loved seeing her with her guard down. Wide-eyed, she watched his family interact as though she couldn’t imagine a family having such a good time together.
When they were finished, Sam offered to help with the dishes while Nick listened to his brother Phil update him on his boys. Phil’s oldest, Tyler, was only six years younger than Nick. It had always struck others as odd that Nick’s nephew was so close to his own age. Growing up, Tyler had followed Nick around like a little brother.
Nick had always been responsible for whatever mess Tyler got into. He remembered the time Tyler had thought to dig for gold in the backyard. He had come back into the house covered in mud. Of course, Nick got in trouble for not watching out for him. Tyler was now happily married, the father of two. Nick was the one who still had to get things together.
Excusing himself, Nick headed for the kitchen in search of Sam. Gina and Phil’s wife, Alison, were huddled in conversation over the counter, looking out the window, their voices low.
“Uh-oh.”
Gina turned around first.
Alison shook her head. “I remember when your mother pulled me outside. Scared the hell out of me.”
Nick’s mother was head honcho, no matter how old everyone got. No one new was allowed in without passing her inspection first, and Sam was no exception. “How long have they been at it?” he asked.
“About five minutes,” Alison said.
Nick peered out the window. He could see the backs of the two women, his mother gesturing to her garden while Sam’s head nodded agreement. She wasn’t wearing her jacket, and Nick knew she had to be freezing out there.
“She’ll be fine, Nick. She’s a very strong woman.”
“I’m not worried about Mom.” Nick continued to stare out the window.
Gina laughed. “You know, you can hear them from the porch off the den,” she said in a hushed voice.
Nick raised an eyebrow and then hurried through the kitchen to the den. At the window, he looked through the shades. His mother and Sam were still facing the garden, though neither of them appeared to be interested in the plants now. His pulse dancing as though he was actually on surveillance, he tested the lock and then unlatched the sliding door quietly. He watched his mother and Sam, but neither looked back to the house. He eased the door open and let the shades fall back.
Their voices were low across the yard. Nick stepped onto the porch and pressed his back to the wall. Sinking to the ground, he listened.
“I grew up in a rough family,” his mother said.
Sam was silent, and Nick longed to hear the sound of her voice.
“I’d had boyfriends before Franklin, but no one like him. Where I grew up, it was fight
or be killed.”
Nick watched Sam look at his mother.
“That’s where I got this,” his mother said, pointing to the scar that ran along the side of her neck. Nick concentrated on his mother’s words. All the kids had asked her about it at one time or another, but she’d told them it was from a cat when she was little.
“From a man?” Sam asked.
His mother nodded. “He didn’t like it when I told him I’d find my own way home. He did this with a key.”
Sam shuddered, and so did Nick. He pictured the ragged tear and wished he could get his hands on the son of a bitch who had done that to his mother.
“Then I met Franklin. He didn’t seem to care.” His mother laughed. “I mean he didn’t care what it looked like. It didn’t bother him at all. ’Course, he wanted to kill the guy that done it. That’s just men.”
They fell silent for a minute.
“I suppose what I’m saying,” his mother continued, “is that we all have scars of one sort or another. For a while after we get them, we hide them and don’t let anyone see. Then, later, maybe we hide behind them, use ’em to try to scare people off from caring. That’s all fine for a while. Eventually, you have to let them be part of who you are, instead of what you are. You’ve got to give life another chance.”
“I think I know what you’re saying,” Sam said. “But how—”
“I just figured you would understand.” His mother bent down and picked a leaf from a plant. “My son’s pretty smitten.”
Nick rolled his eyes and silently banged his head against the outside of the house.
He could hear the light ringing of Sam’s laugh. “Your son is a wonderful man, Ella.”
His mother handed Sam the leaf.
“I’m glad you think so. That’s a mint leaf. My mama always said the smell of mint drove men mad.”
Sam took it and pressed the leaf to her nose.
“You test it out for me, you hear?” Then his mother put her arm through Sam’s and led her back toward the house.
Nick stood up quickly and slipped back inside through the den door, sliding it closed and clicking the lock into place. He got back to the kitchen just in time to see them come through the back door.
Sam smiled at him, and he was relieved to see she didn’t look furious or miserable or both.
“Coffee for anyone?” Gina asked.
“Please,” Nick agreed.
Sam took some, too, and they headed back into the living room.
Before he could catch up with Sam, his mother caught his arm and pulled him back.
Nick steadied his cup to keep the coffee from sloshing over the edge. “You were about as obvious as a fox in a chicken coop out there,” she scolded.
Nick grinned. “What are you talking about?”
“All that fuss with the window shades, you could have waked the dead.” His mother slapped his shoulder. “She’s a good woman, Nick. You treat her right. Now get in there before she thinks you’re ignoring her.”
Nick kissed his mother’s cheek and walked into the living room with a distinct bounce to his step.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Deputy Director of the Department of Justice Andy Corona dialed the number on his pager and frowned. He’d like to know what jackass thought he could interrupt his evening. He was trying to have a quiet night with his wife to celebrate their anniversary. They’d just come home from a late dinner and dancing, which was Elaine’s idea. He’d almost passed out on the dance floor. But now they were home, and he just wanted to go to bed. It was after two in the morning. The house was quiet, the kids were all sleeping at friends’ houses, he and his wife had all morning to sleep in, and then his damn pager starts buzzing. Shit.
“Cintrello.”
Corona raised an eyebrow. “It’s Corona here, Bob. How are you?”
“Doing well, Andy. And you?”
“Good.” He rolled his hand in the air as he played along with the bullshit routine.
“How are the kids?”
Corona answered with fake enthusiasm. “Driving me crazy, as usual.”
Cintrello laughed. “I can relate, let me tell you.”
“I’m surprised to hear from you on the weekend. Where are you?”
“I’m at the station, actually.”
“Work? Hell, I’m sorry to hear that. What’ve you got going on?”
“Same thing as you, I’m afraid. I heard we just got another vic on the eucalyptus case.”
Corona hated the word “vic” for victim. What was the sense in cutting out three little letters? How much time did it really save?
“Came in about ten minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Martinez. Vic is a male Caucasian, early forties, multiple gunshot wounds.”
Corona rubbed his fingers on his brow. “Your guys are on the scene?”
“Yep.” Cintrello paused, as if he was gearing up to say something really important.
Corona did his best not to fall asleep before he got it out.
“Three of them out there now, but I want to hold off taking Chase and Thomas to the scene.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, Andy, I think we need to get Sam Chase checked out before she goes to any more scenes.”
Corona frowned. Politics told him to at least hear the jackass out before telling him where to go. “I’m listening.”
“The lab’s been working on the batteries, and they’ve got almost a full set of good prints.”
“And the outside was wiped clean? It’s too obvious. You think she wouldn’t have known to wipe batteries?” Corona said, trying to make Cintrello realize what a jerk he sounded like.
“Her cases, ones she failed to lock up.”
“There’s no way my agent is capable of murder,” Corona said.
“You willing to stake your career on it?”
He hesitated. Hell, yes, he thought quickly, and then he thought again. He couldn’t screw it up, not this close to retirement.
“That’s what I thought.”
Corona bit his tongue.
“It’s just to clear her, but the undersheriff wants it done and I’m not going to argue.”
“Just to clear her,” Corona repeated, wishing he could swallow that load of bullshit.
“To rule her out, of course.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not hanging my ass out on this one. Not after the shit that went down with Yaskevich. The undersheriff’s going to draw blood if we’re wrong.”
Damn John Yaskevich and his guns.
“And we’ve got the psychological profile on her. Our guy thinks it could be a fit.”
Corona shook his head. The profile had been part of her application to the department. As far as Corona was concerned, any profile could be twisted into something negative. The fact that Sam Chase had expressed her views on abusers was unfortunate. But she’d never said anything about committing a crime. She’d talked circles around killing abusers, making them finally pay for the shattered lives they left behind. Some of it was extreme, but Corona thought it made her all the more dedicated to her job.
The flashlight was circumstantial. He’d been concerned at first. But, after hearing about her failed brakes, on top of that business with the photo and the exploding heater, he was leaning toward a setup. People touched batteries all the time—no crime in that. Planting them at a scene would’ve been easy too. But he had to admit it still looked suspicious, especially to someone as gun-shy as the undersheriff. “I still don’t think you have any evidence that she committed a crime.”
“Of course I’m with you, Andy, but I think you ought to consider some CYA here.”
Corona only half listened. Chase was Corona’s employee, so if she was a killer, it would come back to haunt him, Cintrello was saying. He’d be smart not to get caught in the crossfire. Corona wondered if this call had anything to do with the fact that Chase was seeing Nick Thomas, one of Cintrello’s detectives. H
is wife came into the room, and he put up his index finger, praying that Cintrello would get to his point in the next minute.
“She’s not capable, Bob. It’s a setup.”
“No one wants to believe that more than me, Andy. She’s your best agent, but I think it’s a liability to have her on the team right now. I think the undersheriff would agree.”
“Are you asking me to pull her off this case?” Corona tensed his jaw. First, they’d asked for Chase to be on the case. Now they wanted her off. Fucking sheriff’s department.
“Yes, I am. And we’re checking her out.”
“Checking her out?”
“A judge is signing the warrant tonight.”
“A warrant? For her home?”
“As a precaution.”
Corona paced his office and thought about his ruined evening. “Oh, Jesus, Bob. This is ridiculous. It’s the middle of the damn night.”
“But we’ve got another vic. If it’s her, I want to know now. And she’s not at home now. It’s the perfect time.”
“You’re going to serve a warrant at midnight to another cop? I think it’s crazy. At least wait until morning.”
“Normal procedure is to call Thomas and Chase to the case now,” Cintrello argued. “If we think she’s involved, we can’t do that. Not even Thomas alone. We need to know if she’s hiding something first. It’s all about covering ourselves, Andy. I don’t want to find out she’s guilty later and not have checked it out.” He paused. “The undersheriff agrees with me.”
Corona shook his head and thought about his pension. Some days he would have loved to just tell the department to shove it. If the undersheriff agreed, they had the jurisdiction to go ahead without him. Damn it all. Chase deserved better, and yet his hands were tied. He blew out his breath. “Fine, but keep it off the wire. I don’t want this to be a fucking news event, Bob.”
“We’ll be discreet.”
Corona thought that was about the funniest thing he’d heard all day. His best agent was about to be dragged through the wringer, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it but sit back and hope he could pick up the pieces tomorrow.
“World’s fucked up,” he muttered, sinking into his chair and leaning back. “Happy fucking anniversary, Elaine. Happy fucking anniversary.”
(2002) Chasing Darkness Page 21