Chapter Twelve
“Hey, cuz, Luca told me about the excitement around here this afternoon. You and the kid okay over there?”
Alex smiled at the phone. “We’re fine, Gregor. Thanks for asking. Braden just had a bath and is getting his pajamas on. A hand-me-down pair from Luca, I think. Something with Star Wars figures on it.”
“Sounds like Luca’s. He was pretty upset that the cops took Braden’s dad away. What was that all about?”
“They took him for questioning. I don’t know the details, and I haven’t heard anything since they left.”
“Does this have to do with the kid’s mom’s death?”
“I think so.”
Her cousin let out a soft groan. “Man, and I thought my life was screwed up. At least my wife is getting better.” He paused then added, “Did I tell you the doctor said MaryAnn could come home for the holidays? Two full weeks. And if she does okay, she’ll be able to stay for good.”
Alex finished drying the skillet she’d used for their hamburgers. She’d been afraid Braden would be too upset to eat, but the child had finished off every bite of his sandwich and a good-size mound of green beans. Even Maya turned her nose up at vegetables.
“That’s wonderful news, Gregor. When do you pick her up?”
“Saturday. I was going to throw a party, but your mother said we should play it low-key to let MaryAnn settle back. Smart woman, your mother.”
“I agree. Besides, MaryAnn will see everybody at Christmas, right? That’s only thirteen days away.”
“Don’t remind me. I haven’t bought any presents. I wanted to, but then I thought maybe that’s something MaryAnn and I should do together. But you know how stressful shopping is. The people, the noise…the money. It’s gonna be a little skimpy under our tree unless Santa hits the lotto.”
Unless Santa hits the lotto? Oh, no, does that mean Greg is gambling again? As if in answer to her unasked question, he said, “I meant the North Pole Santa, not me. I haven’t laid a wager since MaryAnn went to Montevista.”
Alex believed him. Although her cousin had been a carefree goof-off as a kid and downright lazy and immature as an adult, he’d changed after nearly losing MaryAnn. That near-miss had made him grow up.
“I’m really glad to hear that, Greg. MaryAnn is going to be so proud of you.” Before she could add that the whole family was proud of him, Braden walked in. Damp blond hair sticking up in all directions. His plastic-soled sleepers made a scratching sound against the tile floor. He looked at her and smiled, and Alex’s voice left her.
Coughing into her hand, she said, “My houseguest is here. Gotta go. Thanks for checking on us.”
“No problem. Call if you hear from Mark or you need anything. Braden could come over here, if you have to go pick him up or anything.”
“Sweet of you to offer, but I think we’ll be fine. Night.”
She hung up the phone then walked to where Braden was standing, looking a little lost. “Nice jammies. They fit perfectly. They were Luca’s, you know.”
Braden looked down and pointed to the image of a young boy with blond hair. Alex had seen all the Star Wars movies, but wasn’t a huge fan of the most recent trilogy, so she couldn’t tell him the character’s name, if that was what he was asking. “I don’t know who that is. He looks a little bit like you, though, doesn’t he?”
Braden grunted, as if slightly put out.
“Sorry, honey boy, I don’t understand. Do you want to find out this character’s name? We can go online. My laptop is in my bedroom. Follow me.”
She started away but was stopped by a single word.
“N-no.”
She turned around. “Braden. You spoke. Wow. Your dad would be really happy to hear that. But I still don’t understand. Do you want to watch the movie? I don’t have it, but Gregor probably does.”
“No.” This time he shook his head, too.
Alex wanted to jump up and down and shout, but she didn’t think she should make a big deal about this foray into speech. As if he were a feral kitten and she was coaxing him to eat, she squatted in front of him and said, “Do you know who this character is?”
Braden nodded.
“Can you tell me his name?”
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the doorbell rang. Her first thought was her cousin had run something over for Braden, but then Mark appeared in her mind. “Hold that thought, sweetheart. I’d better check in case it’s your daddy. Maybe his cell-phone battery died.”
She’d tried Mark’s number earlier and had been told the cellular customer she was calling wasn’t available.
She stood up and started toward the hallway when she felt a small, cool hand touch hers. “Do you want to come?”
Braden nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go see who it is.”
Out of habit, Alex looked through the peephole before opening the door. A woman in her mid to late fifties was standing on the stoop. A brightly colored wool scarf was wrapped several times around her neck with the ends tucked into her black leather jacket. Her faded blond hair stuck out in wisps not unlike the way Braden’s had looked when he’d gotten out of the bath. She was smoking a cigarette, which she dropped to the cement beside the welcome mat and ground out with her heel.
Alex’s heart rate sped up. A stranger, but Alex had a suspicion about who this was.
She took Braden’s shoulders in her hands and made sure he was looking at her. “Go over by my desk and wait. I don’t recognize this person.” The bell rang again. “But I don’t think she’s going away.”
After making sure the safety chain was in place, Alex opened the door. “Yes?”
“I’m here for my grandson.”
Bingo.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t release any child in my care to anyone without a parent’s written consent. Please go away.”
“And let my grandson stay in the same house as his mother’s worst enemy? Not on your life, baby cakes.”
Baby cakes? The archaic choice of words almost made Alex smile, but the fact that this woman considered her Tracey’s worst enemy wasn’t pleasant. She hadn’t really known Tracey, except by reputation.
She started to close the door, but the woman stuck her arm through the narrow opening and leaned inward. Her breath, which smelled of liquor and cigarettes, was almost enough to make Alex gag.
“You need to leave. Now,” she said, as sternly as possible. “Mark will be back soon. If you have a complaint, take it up with him.”
“Come here, honey boy,” the woman called, making an awkward motion with her hand. “Come to Grandma Odessa.”
Alex glanced over her shoulder and saw Braden cover his ears and scoot around the corner of the desk. The look of abject fear in his eyes brought out Alex’s fury. She put both hands on the twig-like leather-clad arm and pushed, until the woman let out a yelp and yanked it back.
Leaning her full weight against the door, she closed it firmly and yelled, “Get off my property now before I call the police and file a complaint. If you ever come back, I’ll slap a restraining order on you and make sure you spend time in jail.”
She could hear the woman’s furious reply, but most of the words were unfit for a child’s ears so Alex raced to the desk, scooped Braden up in her arms and hurried down the hallway.
She locked the dead bolt on her bedroom door, then grabbed her portable phone and carried Braden to the love seat in her suite area. She made sure he was okay, and then she punched in the first number that came to mind. “Greg, there’s someone on my porch. I’ll call the police next, but I want you make sure she doesn’t try anything while they’re coming. Can you—?”
“Hell, yes,” he said, not letting her finish the question.
Alex heard him running with the phone. A couple of seconds later, his voice slightly breathless, he said, “Whoever it was is gone. A car took off just as I ran out the door. All I saw was taillights. Couldn’t make out the plate.
Sorry, cuz.”
Alex let out a deep sigh of relief. “No problem. Since I know who it was, I’ll give Zeke a jingle, instead of calling 9-1-1. Thanks, Greg. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. The offer still stands. You and the kid can come over here or we can stay with you.”
She was more tempted now than she had been earlier, but first she’d see what Zeke had to say. She told Gregor she’d call him back with her decision.
Zeke’s cell number was busy, so she turned off the phone and set it on the side table. “Wow,” she said, gently brushing the backs of her fingers against Braden’s cheek. “That was pretty wild. Your grandmother doesn’t take no for an answer, does she?”
Braden looked up—his eyes huge and still filled with worry. Alex’s heart shattered, and she had to swallow twice before she could speak. “Braden, I can tell that your grandmother scares you. Heck, she scared me and I’m an adult. I don’t like people like that, and I promise I will never let her near you unless you and your dad say it’s okay. Do you believe me?”
It took a few seconds before he nodded.
“Good. Now, let me try Zeke again and we—”
The doorbell buzzed.
Braden turned his face into the pillowy cushion of the sofa, as if hoping it would swallow him whole. “You stay here this time, kiddo. I don’t want you to hear what I plan to tell that woman.”
Taking the phone with her, Alex hit Redial as she stalked down the hallway. She’d left the lights on in the day care. This time, she didn’t even bother to look out the peephole. Forgetting that she’d called Zeke, she planted her feet just opposite the door and shouted, “What is your problem, you stupid woman? What part of ‘Go away or I’m calling the police’ don’t you understand? My mother’s boyfriend is a cop. My sister is marrying a cop. My other sister is married to a lawyer. Believe me, this is one family you don’t want to mess with.”
When no reply was forthcoming, Alex cautiously leaned closer and looked out.
“Zeke,” she yelped.
She couldn’t get the door opened fast enough. Her fingers felt as if she had ski gloves on. She had to tuck the phone under her arm until she finally got the latch off and the lock undone. “I was just calling—” She made a little cry and whipped the phone out from her armpit. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly as she turned it off.
“Not a problem. I was on my way over here when Gregor called. Mark had asked me to drop by and check on things. Are you okay?”
“I am, now. How’s Mark? Are you still holding him? Why? You know he didn’t kill his wife or anybody else.”
“Spoken like a woman defending her man,” he said in a kindly way. “He’s got a call in to your brother-in-law. Things took a tricky turn. Mark gave the investigators permission to search his house and cars. A gun—the same caliber as the one that killed the drug dealer—turned up in his Nissan.”
Alex’s stomach rolled and the pain that had been dogging her all day finally let loose a punch that nearly made her bend over. “Whoa, Alex, take it easy. Nobody believes Mark was stupid enough to leave his kid alone in the house while he drove across town and shot the person who was accusing him of murder, then tucked the damn gun under his seat. The gun is a plant. We just have to find the person who put it there.”
“Someone who hates Mark enough to try to put him behind bars. Someone like Tracey’s mother.”
“Yes, I know. I talked to her earlier. Just a hunch, but I think that’s how she found out where the little boy was staying. Unfortunately, she has an airtight alibi at the time of death. She was on camera in a blackjack tournament at the Gold Spike. But the lowlife scum she’s living with is another possibility. We’re looking for him, but so far no luck.”
Zeke’s obvious belief in Mark’s innocence went a long way toward calming Alex’s stomach. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Braden wasn’t there. “Are Braden and I safe here? Should we go to Greg’s?”
“I don’t think she’ll come back. My guess is she thought she’d take one last chance at bullying you into giving her the kid before she and lover boy took off for Mexico.”
The thought of Odessa running off with Braden was almost enough to make Alex sick again.
Zeke put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your mother’s plane doesn’t get in until midnight, but she gave me a key, so I’ll be across the street if you need me.”
Zeke had her mother’s key? The fact surprised her, but Alex decided she was okay with it.
“What about later?” she asked.
He hesitated a moment then said, “I’ll be there, then, too. Call if you need us.”
Us. “Good,” she said, and to her surprise, she meant it.
Chapter Thirteen
The sound of the phone ringing woke Alex from a restless, uneasy sleep filled with images just beyond her reach. She looked at the number on the display. Mark’s cell number.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Sorry to wake you.”
“No, I’m glad you called,” she said, sitting up. The night air was chilly, but her Tweety Bird flannel pajamas kept her from shivering too badly. “Are you still at Metro?”
“Nope. They let me go. My fingerprints didn’t match the ones on the gun.” He paused then asked, “You heard about that from Zeke, right? He told me you’d talked. I’m really sorry about Odessa. I honestly didn’t expect her to show up like that.”
“It’s okay. We were never in danger.” She hoped. “But I did feel badly for Braden. He was pretty shook up.”
“Is he asleep?”
“Yeah. Where are you? At home?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Actually, I’m out front. They’re keeping the Nissan for evidence, and since my truck was here, I had my buddy drop me off. I’m going home, though, and I plan to sleep all day—unless you want me to take Braden with me.”
I want you to come in and sleep with me. Terrible idea. Ridiculous. Between her constant low backache and occasional gut-wrenching twinge, she wasn’t feeling too alluring. Not to mention the fact that her hormones had turned her into a weepy bundle of nerves.
“No, absolutely not. He’s fine here.” She got out of bed and walked into the hallway where a tropical-fish night-light gave her a clear view of Braden’s room. His door was partly open and she leaned inside to peek at him.
His covers were a tangled mess, as if he’d been wrestling them—and lost. “He’s a restless sleeper, isn’t he?”
Mark’s low chuckle was sexy even though she knew he didn’t intend it to be. “Now, there’s an understatement. Usually about this time of night, he starts thrashing and kicking, like he’s at war with some horrible demons.”
“Night terrors. Fairly common in children his age.”
“Do they go away?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
Almost as if he’d been waiting for his father’s call, Braden started to squirm on the narrow mattress. Eyes squeezed tight, he tossed from one side to the other, moaning. His lips were moving with low, unintelligible cries.
“Uh-oh,” Alex murmured.
“I know how to handle this. Can I come in?”
“Of course. Pull in behind my car in the carport and use the side door. I’ll meet you there. Will he be okay if I walk away?”
“Yeah, it’s just starting. But hurry.”
Moments later, Mark brushed past her with a barely murmured greeting or word of thanks. She understood—and shared—his need for haste. She could hear Braden’s cries building.
Mark shucked his leather coat and dropped it on a chair as he rushed to the bed. On his knees, he leaned forward until his head was resting on the pillow beside his son’s. “Bray. Bray. It’s Daddy. I’m here, son. You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, boy. Nobody. Daddy won’t let ’em. Sh…sh…Breathe easy, son. Let it go.”
He repeated the phrases over and over while gently stroking the child’s forehead whenever Braden stilled enough to allow the touch. Twice, the little boy sat
up in bed and looked around, his eyes unseeing. The look of terror on his face was enough to make Alex want to weep, but she didn’t. She knelt beside Mark, silently offering her support.
Occasionally, when his shoulders would start to sag, she’d lean over and lightly rub his back. He’d groan softly to let her know the touch was helping, but for the most part Alex was certain her presence was unnoticed by both father and son. This odd ritual seemed to follow a pattern they were familiar with.
After a few long, tense minutes, Braden let out a sigh and fell back against his pillow, eyes closed, mouth lax; his breathing turned shallow, with an occasional exhausted wheeze.
Mark sank back on his heels, head between his arms. Alex longed to hold him and comfort him.
His head tilted sideways and he whispered, “I should have warned you that this might happen, but he hasn’t had a nightmare for a few days. I guess I’d hoped he was over them.”
She smiled and leaned close to say, “I think we can blame this one on his grandmother. And you handled him well.”
Her praise felt good to Mark. So had her nearness and her gentle touch during the ordeal. Watching his son wrestle with his silent demons tore Mark apart. Having someone to share the burden helped beyond anything he could put into words. But he had to try.
Getting to his feet, he found his knees hurt and his ankles were slightly numb. Alex seemed to be suffering from the same affliction because she stumbled against him before catching her balance. Nodding toward the door, he put his arm around her shoulders, and together they hobbled out of the room.
“Damn, I’m getting old,” he muttered once they reached the hallway.
“Me, too. My foot was asleep, but I can sure feel it now,” she said, bending over to rub her calf. “How long has he been having night terrors?” she asked, looking at him.
In the yellowish glow of the night-light, she looked like a teenager with a tousled bed-head hairdo, oversize pajamas with cartoon characters he remembered from his childhood and an innocent concern that melted his heart. “Except for the past few days, I can only think of two or three nights that he hasn’t woken up crying since he came to live with me.”
The Quiet Child Page 11