by Polly Iyer
“Then how did you know I shouted?”
With a wink to Abby, he said, “I guessed.”
“So all I have to do is face you and we can have a normal conversation?”
“That’s right. If I miss something I’ll ask you to repeat what you said. That’s normal, I guess. Whatever normal is.”
“Cool.” And as if the previous exchange hadn’t occurred, Lucy said, “Meyer’s coming over after he has dinner with his son. Is that okay?”
“Sure. He’s always invited.”
“It’ll be like a double date,” Lucy said.
Ah, Lucy. A breath of fresh air. My never-grew-up mother still on double dates. Abby sensed that if she could see Luke, he’d be smiling.
“Meyer is Lucy’s significant other, Luke. He’s the nicest man in the world and he loves Lucy.”
“He is cute, isn’t he?” Lucy said. “Well, you wouldn’t know, but he is. Not matinee idol handsome like you, Luke, but a cuddly teddy bear type. Kind of like Ed Asner when he played Lou Grant on the old Mary Tyler Moore show. Now you relax with your young man while I make dinner.”
Abby smiled at Lucy’s contrived way of telling her that Luke was handsome, which she already knew and couldn’t care less about. It’s going to be a long evening.
“There’s a pitcher of margaritas on the counter, Lucy,” Luke said. “Help yourself.”
Abby’s breath caught in her throat. She’d been so concerned about keeping the news about the break-ins from Lucy that she forgot to warn Luke about the margaritas. There was a long pause, then Lucy said, “Um, thanks, but I think I’ll pass. It’ll interfere with my cooking.”
Abby let out a breath and mentally praised the way her mother handled it. Interfere? That’s a euphemism. Still, she knew the temptation would always be there.
“Where’s Daisy?” Lucy asked.
Glad for the change the subject, Abby said, “Um, a car sideswiped her the other day. She has a nasty gash on her head. The vet’s keeping her for a day or two to make sure she’s okay.”
“Will she be all right?” Lucy asked, concerned.
“She’ll be fine.”
“Good thing it’s the weekend and you have company.”
Abby had moved to the opposite end of the sofa from Luke when Lucy came in, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her beside him, unwilling to play platonic. Now when Lucy got her alone she’d grill her endlessly about their relationship.
Abby had been asked out on dates, but she had her work and a comfortable life and hadn’t wanted the complications that came with a romantic involvement. The idea of going through the getting-to-know-you stage had appealed to her about as much as sour milk. And here she sat next to Luke, enjoying every minute of what she’d avoided for the last eight years.
“Chicken stir-fry,” Lucy said. “Come and get it.”
Luke raved about the dinner, and Lucy responded like the quintessential teenager to a handsome young stud. Before the end of evening, Luke had won her over—his intention, Abby surmised.
Meyer arrived with a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider and poured four glasses. “So, Luke, what do you do?”
“I was a detective with the police department until my accident. I’m still technically a detective, only not on the streets. Right now I’m doing research and hope to transfer to the crime scene unit.”
Abby liked the positive sound of his answer. Both Lucy and Meyer bombarded Luke with questions, which he handled beautifully. By the time they left, Abby’s nerves were shot.
“Your mother’s a piece of work.”
“You noticed.”
“I bet she was a hell of a lot of fun when you were a kid.”
Abby shifted in her seat. “Lucy was a drunk.”
“Drunk? You mean she drank.”
“No, I mean she was a falling-down, passing-out drunk. I spent a good part of my childhood taking care of her. All’s forgiven, but growing up with Lucy was hell. She quit drinking after I was shot and has tried her damnedest to make it up to me, but those are twenty years I’d rather put behind me.”
Luke wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry, Abby. Come here.” He pulled her close and planted a kiss on top of her head.
God, this feels good. They cuddled for the rest of the evening while Luke watched a closed caption Braves game on TV. Abby listened and took pleasure in the warmth of his body. She felt comfortable and warm and secure for the first time in ages. She liked it a lot.
Chapter Ten
Dark Shadow
Unless Abby changed her schedule, a taxi waited in front of her house at exactly eight thirty every workday morning to take her to the office. The driver came up the walkway this morning and took her arm when he saw her with the cane.
“Where’s Daisy this morning, Doctor Gallant?”
“She’s at the vet’s.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“No, James, thanks for asking.”
They rode in silence for about five minutes. “There’s a car following us, Doctor Gallant. Been with us right from near your house. I noticed it while I was waiting for you.”
“What kind of car, and who’s in it?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d be thinking it was the po-lice. Any reason why the po-lice would be following you?”
Abby’s heart thumped. This couldn’t be a coincidence. “Someone broke into my house. Can you see the person driving?” If James gave a description of the driver, she could pass it on to Pete Valkonis, or maybe he assigned someone to keep her under surveillance.
“Can’t tell. He’s too far behind.”
“Can you tell what kind of car it is?”
“I’m not good with cars. A while back they all started to look alike. It’s dark gray. That’s for sure. Or maybe it’s black. Can’t tell with the sun hitting on it. Might be dark blue.”
So much for an identification. “When we get to my office, would you mind walking in with me?”
“Be my pleasure.”
Abby was spooked. She took out her cell phone and punched number six, Pete’s speed dial number. Fortunately, he answered.
“This is Abigael Gallant, Detective.
“Yes, Doctor. What can I do for you?”
“There’s a car following the taxi taking me to work. He was waiting down the street from my house. Is it one of your men?”
“No. Where are you?”
“I’ll ask. James, where are we?”
“Heading south on Main almost to the
Pine Street intersection.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” Valkonis said. “What kind of car?”
“My driver’s not sure. It’s a dark color, gray or black or navy blue.”
“Keep heading toward your office, and tell him to go as slow as he can. I’m at my bank nearby. I’ll try to get behind you. Which cab company?”
“Metro. Oh, and Detective, I received another email. This one said I’d meet the same fate as Daisy.”
“I’m on my way.”
Abby told James to slow down. He never drove fast, and now he was going so slow he might stall dead in his tracks. She heard a short siren, then the whooshing sound of a speeding car followed by a second speeding car.
“What’s happening?”
“Looks like your po-lice friend is chasing after the car that was following us. They’re flying like the devil’s chasing ’em.”
Abby couldn’t catch her breath. Whoever stalked the taxi was after her. By the time James accompanied her into the office, her hands were shaking so, the cane fell from her grasp. She heard Cleo’s chair roll back.
“What happened to you? You’re as pale as a ghost. Where’s Daisy?”
Abby thanked her driver and tipped him from the twenty slot of her wallet before collapsing into a chair. “Things have been very interesting lately, and not in a good way.”
She told Cleo everything that had happened from the beginning. She never mentioned her relat
ionship with Luke had progressed to a semi-romantic level, although she figured everyone knew. She also omitted the ethics complaint to the Board of Examiners. That would be in the open soon enough when the investigator interviewed everyone.
Until that moment, she never considered that whoever made the complaint knew about Luke. All the people close to her were women, but the person in her yard was definitely a man.
“I wish you’d told me,” Cleo said. “Troubles are easier to deal with when they’re shared.”
“No, all that does is cause someone else anxiety.”
“Well, you were there for me when my mother fell sick and Dick lost his job. Talking to you made everything easier.”
“That’s different.” Abby wondered why she had such a hard time revealing anything personal, sure she’d chastise herself later for unloading. “Anyway, thanks for listening.”
“What can I do to help?”
“You’ve already helped.” She closed herself in her office, unable to concentrate on anything other than the person intent on turning her life upside down. She made it through her ten o’clock appointment when Cleo announced that Detective Valkonis waited outside and ushered him in.
“Did you get him?” Abby asked.
“Got him, but he doesn’t know squat. Someone hired him to spook you this morning and to make sure your driver knew. He has no idea who.”
Abby’s usually calm voice raised a notch. “How could he not know? Someone had to pay him.”
“He got a call from a robotic voice saying he’d find instructions and money in a certain mailbox display in Home Depot. Pretty clever. No one opens those things. I’m sure the caller watched his every move and made sure no one messed up the arrangement. Your shadow followed instructions.”
“I don’t get it. How did he connect in the first place?”
“The guy placed an odd job ad in one of those freebie magazines. The voice called him. He knew it sounded fishy but needed the money. Two hundred bucks.”
Abby rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not worth very much for someone to go through all this trouble, am I? If I weren’t so scared, I’d be insulted.”
“No fingerprints on the mailbox except for your shadow’s, and he threw away the envelope the money came in. I doubt there’d be any prints on it anyway. I’m sorry, Abby. There’s no way I can trace the person who hired him. If I had the manpower, I’d have a cop on you twenty-four/seven, but without more of a threat to you, that’s not possible.”
“What needs to happen, an assault?” Pete didn’t say anything, and Abby concluded that’s exactly what needed to happen.
“I want you to call me when anything suspicious happens. I’ll be there in a matter of minutes.”
“Even when Luke is with me?”
“Yes, even when you’re with Luke. He’s deaf and that cost him his edge. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. I’m sorry, but that’s the fact.”
Pete’s response surprised her. “Does he know you feel that way?”
“Not in so many words, but he knows. It’s been a hard year for him. He’d be pissed if I thought he needed a babysitter. Luke was a great cop. No one had more guts in dangerous situations. But all that’s changed. I’ve no doubt he could take down a perp face to face, but there’s not a man on the squad who feels comfortable partnering with him—not only for fear of their backs, but for worrying about his. He’d be a major distraction, and a cop can’t have that on the streets.
“The crime scene transfer is a great idea. He’s smart as hell and always noticed things the rest of us missed. It’s exactly what he needed. He’s concerned for your safety more than anyone, and whether or not he admits it, he knows his limitations.”
Abby didn’t like that the danger of her situation made Luke more conscious of his disability. Of course he knew, but knowing the facts and facing them were two different things.
After Pete left, Abby tried to get her head together for her next patient, but the robotic voice delivering its last message echoed in her mind: Next time it will be you.
Chapter Eleven
Growing Up Hard
Abby listened to Luke’s email. He heard what happened and wrote he’d be over with dinner after work. The minute he walked in, the aroma of food from Abby’s favorite Thai restaurant filled the room, inciting her acute sensory neurons.
“Mmm, massaman curry and something with shrimp.”
“You’re sure?”
She took another sniff. “Positive.”
“I don’t see how you do it.”
“You do the same thing, only differently. I bet your concentration and peripheral vision have improved, and you’re more aware of vibrations. It’s how we level the playing field.”
He kissed her. “I love the way you explain things, Doctor.” He set out the dishes. “Are you okay? This morning, I mean.”
“I don’t understand this guy. It’s like he’s playing a game of some kind. There’s no reason for any of it except to scare me.”
“I don’t know what else to do other than glue myself to you.”
“Forget it. That isn’t going to happen. You have a job and so do I. Now that we have that settled, what’s going on at work? Any news?”
“I met with the captain this afternoon. He’s transferring me to the crime scene unit. Of course, my hours will be more erratic, but that’s okay. I’ll be doing something I like.”
“Luke, that’s terrific.”
“I have feelers out for the lip-reading too. That’s more specialized, I know, but once my name is out there, I might be in demand. Thanks. You and Mack put me on track, in spite of myself.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who’s making it work.”
“Can’t you ever take a compliment?”
Abby laughed. “Okay, you’re welcome. Now, the food’s getting cold. You can thank me properly later.”
“Hmmm, that sounds enticing. You sure you’re hungry?”
Abby laughed. “Eat up, Detective.”
They talked while eating, and that comfortable feeling swept over her again, as if she’d known Luke McCallister all her life. It scared her to death.
They finished dinner, then shared the cleaning up. Abby rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, while Luke put the leftovers away and cleaned the table. When she shut the dishwasher, she felt his hands around her waist, and he pulled her toward him. His touch set off internal fireworks.
“Come here, Abby.”
As much as she wanted him, something he said earlier bothered her. The words fell from her lips as if they’d been waiting for the perfect moment. “I think we need to get a few things straight.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, causing a major case of distraction. She pictured him leaning back, studying her face.
“Like what?
“I don’t know where to begin. What you said before, about your getting on track because of me. I don’t want gratitude confused with something else. I offered a few options for your consideration, that’s all.”
“Do you think what I feel is gratitude?”
“I don’t know. Is it?”
He took her in his arms and whispered, “No.”
She knew he waited for a signal, but she couldn’t give him one and didn’t know why. She moved back so he could see her lips. “That first time in my office, you said you grew up hard. What did you mean?”
Again, a long Luke silence she’d grown to expect while he decided to divulge one of those secrets he’d kept bottled up for so long, the cork had become one with the bottle. He let go of her and walked into the living room.
“You’ve heard the stories. Father takes off, leaves the mother with a kid.”
Yes, I’ve heard the stories. Lived one just like it.
“My story is the reverse. My mother left when I was ten and my kid brother eight. She walked out the door one day and never returned. I remember her kissing our cheeks before she left. Did
n’t think much of it at the time. Thought a lot about it later.
“My father never said a word, and he never mentioned her name again. When I asked about her, he made it clear we weren’t to discuss her. He was always a mean son of a bitch, but he grew hard. Ran our house like a boot camp. If we didn’t do what he said, he dispensed his own brand of punishment.”
Abby moved in front of him. “Like what?”
“Besides beating the crap out of us? How about pulling me off the football team before the big game because I came home ten minutes after curfew? Or deciding not to let me go to the senior prom—on the night of the prom, ruining not only my time but also my date’s. He did the same thing to Joey. As soon as I graduated from high school, I joined the Marines. Got some college during my hitch, then finished my degree in night school when I got out.”
Abby listened, getting her first insight into Luke’s family history. “He sounds mean.”
“Mean and bitter. For years I wondered why my mother didn’t take us with her.”
“And that made you wary of women.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”
“Getting to know you better, that’s all.”
“You know me better than anyone ever has.” Luke took her face in his hands. This time they were firm against her cheeks. “You’ve seen inside me, and I’m not sure I like it. I’m afraid one day your X-ray vision will see things you shouldn’t see.”
“What are you hiding, Luke?”
“Nothing.”
“What happened to your brother?”
“I don’t know. When I got out of the Marines, he was gone. My father said he didn’t know where he went.”
“And you never saw him again?”
“No. I used every resource to find him and my mother—hospitals, death records, you name it—but I couldn’t. Funny, I can find a car a thousand miles away, but I can’t find my own kin. I still look.”
“Where’s your father?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How?”
“Enough, Abby!” A paper-cut edge crept into Luke’s voice. He rose and walked toward the window. “Enough.” He turned his back to her, discouraging further conversation. “I’m not your patient and this isn’t therapy. It happened a long time ago. He’s dead. He was a bastard and I hated him. There, I said it. If you ask me, he lived too long. Now I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”