Mark could picture the image all too clearly, and, as always, he felt sick to his stomach thinking about Tracey inside the inferno that followed the explosion. Investigators had recovered two bodies burned beyond recognition. Dental charts had been needed to ID both of them. One was Tracey. The other, a man named Thomas Johns, with two dozen aliases. The guy’s rap sheet started when he was twelve.
“So, Tracey’s decision to visit this meth lab was impromptu…er, spur of the moment?” Nick asked. “Nobody else knew you were going to be there that day?”
She shook her head.
“And Tracey wasn’t a regular there? She wasn’t buying from this Tom-Tom guy?” Zeke questioned.
Her backbone stiffened. “Tracey was off that shit completely. She only went there to make that a-hole pusher stop cooking the crap. She said she was giving him a warning—to leave Vegas or she’d turn him in.”
Mark almost smiled. That sounded like his ex-wife. Willful, independent and cocky at the wrong moments. They’d butted heads more than once in the short time they’d been partners, and their inability to communicate had played hell on their marriage.
“Thank you, Pi…Patti. I wish we’d talked to you sooner.”
She stood up when the men did. “You probably wouldn’t have been able to. I was so shook up by what happened, I went underground. Came pretty damn close to dying. That’s when I reached out to my mom for help. She’d just broken up with Ed, her second husband, and moved to this place. Mom said I could stay as long as none of my past followed me up here. You’re not gonna make me go back, are you?”
Mark looked at Zeke. He couldn’t see any reason they couldn’t close the case. The woman had no reason to lie, and her version of the story proved that Mark couldn’t possibly have known when Tracey was going to be at the drug house. Mark was no longer a suspect in her death.
“No, ma’am. You’ve helped us a great deal and we appreciate your cooperation. You and your mother have a happy Christmas.”
Mark lingered on the little porch a moment longer after she showed them out. Once Zeke and Nick were out of earshot, he said, “Patti, Odessa told me something a few days ago. I don’t want to believe her, but maybe you know the truth. Is there any chance that dealer, Tom-Tom, is Braden’s real dad?”
Her expression looked torn. “I wish I could tell you no, but I honestly don’t know. Tracey hated the guy but she never really said why. They might have had some kind of thing going in the past, but I don’t know what. I’m sorry.”
Mark was, too. In a fairy tale, she’d have solved all his problems and he could return to Las Vegas to live happily ever after. But his life had never been that simple. “No problem. I just thought I’d ask since you two were close.”
He trudged down the steps, but stopped when she said, “What I do know is Braden used to cry at night and ask for his daddy. Poor little kid. Seemed pretty normal till his grandma moved in. Then he started having terrible nightmares, but I didn’t blame him. Odessa was enough to scare anybody. I’m sure lucky my mom isn’t like that. Tracey did pretty good for herself, considering…”
Her words stayed with him all the way back to Vegas.
ALEX AWOKE TO COMPLETE darkness. At least, she thought she was awake. She might have been dreaming. A fever dream. Her sheets were soaked from sweat, but she felt too weak to get up and change them. Instead, she rolled to the other side of her bed and pulled the pillow over her head.
The pillowcase smelled like Mark.
Another dream, she thought. She’d changed the bedding since their night together. Hadn’t she?
“I’m losing it,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes tight.
“Not my princess.”
The words echoed in her mind. The voice was so dear to her she almost started to cry. Dad. She hadn’t heard him speak that clearly and succinctly since his stroke.
“Oh, Daddy, I miss you.”
“But I’m right here, honey. I never left. Not really.”
Alex’s eyes flew open and she lifted her head. Her louvered blinds were closed, but tiny horizontal beams of light cast a strange, striped pattern on the wall opposite the windows. And there, in a zebra-like silhouette, was the image of her father as she remembered him best. Not so tall, but big. Larger than life was how his obituary had described him. Hands in his pockets. Top three buttons of his neatly pressed shirt open, with a white undershirt showing at the throat.
She sat up. “Dad?”
The cool air made gooseflesh stand up on her arms and she drew the down comforter to her chest.
The apparition never wavered, although his hands did make a jiggling motion in his pockets, and Alex swore she could hear the dull tinkle of silver dollars. Music to the ears of the four little girls who had clambered for his attention. “Me, Daddy. Me, Daddy. I wanna buy some candy.” Or dolls. Or tapes. Or clothes. Or lipstick.
The last, she knew, had really made him sad. His little Gypsy princesses were growing up, and he was bound to lose each one to some man. A man who offered more than silver coins. Even the Gypsy King couldn’t compete with love, companionship, children and family.
Alex had been certain that Mark was her guy. Her soul mate. Even her mother had backed Alex’s choice—much to her husband’s horror. Alex had overheard them arguing one night.
“Mark is a good person. His soul is strong and honest and filled with light. Why are you so against him?” Yetta had asked.
“Because he can’t keep up with her. He lets her call the shots, and that’s going to backfire some day. He’ll disappoint her. I know he will,” her father had replied.
“How did you know, Dad? How did you know that Mark would eventually let me down?”
The jingling stopped. “Because he reminded me of myself.”
The cryptic answer baffled her. “But you’re…you were…the best man I ever knew. You would never cheat on Mom.”
“There’s more than one way to hurt the ones you love.”
The bribe he took with Charles. Alex had heard the whole sad tale months earlier.
“Dad, what happened then was business. You were just trying to take care of us—the way you always took care of everybody and kept this family together.”
His soft laugh was one she knew well. “That’s your mother you’re describing. When Yetta and I first met, I didn’t have two of these to rub together.” He held up a pair of silver dollars to the light. “She put down roots and grew a family. She let me take credit for everything, but think about it, Alexandra. Your sisters knew who to turn to for help. You are the only one who trusted me to solve her problems.”
He had a point. Although Alex felt close to her mother, she’d generally sought out Ernst’s help on the myriad dilemmas of life: boys, dating, cars, career choices. Ernst had seemed to understand her better.
“Because you and I are more alike, Dad.”
“Bossy?”
She’d been called that. “Am I?”
“You’re a teacher, Alex. But sometimes even the best student fails the test.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at the shadows for an answer, but the specter was gone. The lines of light were just lines of light. The jingling sound was just the breeze dancing through the wind chime on her patio.
Her tears returned and she plopped down, hugging her pillow to her chest. “Dad…” she sobbed. “Come back. I need you. I need to know what to do. I trusted Mark once, and he let me down. Just like you said he would. Now what do I do?” The last came out as a hysterical wail that seemed to echo off the walls of her bedroom.
A moment later, a new form—large and very real—came charging into the room. “Alex? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She let out a gasp and scrambled backward against the headboard, certain she’d lost her mind. First, a ghost, then Mark. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Braden and I are sleeping in your guest room.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother said you
were sick—real sick—and the last time that happened you wound up in the ER. She wanted someone over here, and I volunteered.”
Her adrenaline rush left her and she sank down on the mattress, pulling the covers over her head. “I’m contagious. Go away. I’m gonna live. Unfortunately.”
His chuckle sounded closer. “Well, as long as you’re awake, drink some of this stuff your sister sent over. Something to help your stomach and balance your electrolytes. She said it would be good for your condition.”
Suddenly furious—certain her siblings had been talking about her behind her back, she sat up. “I hate my sisters.”
“Well, they love you. They called all the parents who were here today to warn them about the flu bug making its rounds.”
“They did?”
“Uh-huh.” He turned on the bedside lamp. It wasn’t terribly bright but it still took Alex a few seconds to see clearly. When she did, she had to swallow twice to regain her composure. Mark without a shirt. Calendar material. “You must be cold.” His nipples were puckered.
He chafed his arms. “Yeah, I gotta do laundry. No undershirts. But I’m fine. Let me see you drink that whole glassful. I set it there when I checked on you. You were dead to the world, I might add.”
Was that before or after I had a conversation with my father? she wondered.
She took the glass, which appeared to be cloudy apple juice, and took a drink. The taste was not apple juice. “Yuck. What is this?”
“Liz told me the name, but I can’t remember. She’s going to start selling it.”
Alex stuck out her tongue. “To whom? People without taste buds?”
His low chuckle seemed filled with humor. Something was different about him. But instead of asking, she downed the rest of her vinegar-flavored drink, then handed Mark the glass. “She’s not a doctor, you know.”
“But she is pushy.”
“Yeah, a family trait.”
He turned to leave. “You’d better go back to sleep.”
“Wait. I want to ask you something. Would we have made it—as a couple—if what happened between you and Tracey hadn’t happened?”
Mark turned around with a thoughtful frown on his face. He sat down on the end of the bed and looked at the glass in his hand. “I don’t know, Alex. We were moving forward so fast—we met, moved in together, got engaged—all in under a year. You started talking about having babies right away….” He looked up. “I’m not saying that was a bad thing, but I remember feeling a little nervous. Like I’d stepped into a river and the current was taking me downstream faster than I could swim. Do you know what I mean?”
She did.
“My father told me you had more growing up to do, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“He did? I know he never liked me, but I never really understood why.”
“I think you two were too much alike.”
“Really? I wish that were true. He was a good man.”
So are you. “When we were together, did I ever treat you like one of my students?”
His brows wriggled luridly. “Maybe in my fantasies.”
She laughed. “You seem different tonight. Did something happen?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Something good. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” He stood up then walked over to her and placed a tender kiss on her brow. “Go to sleep, princess. Life will look brighter in the morning.”
A shiver passed through her. That was exactly what her father used to say when she had a bad dream.
Chapter Twenty-One
By Christmas eve, three days later, Alex was starting to feel human again. Both Saturday and Sunday had been marathon sleep sessions sprinkled with tender, well-intentioned nursing from her very worried family. Fortunately, there weren’t any more visits from nocturnal ghosts.
Nor had Mark returned. She almost afraid to ask why. Either he or Braden had contracted her bug or he’d decided she was too high maintenance to bother with and had decided to stay as far away from her as possible.
And there was no reason why he shouldn’t forget all about her. Her period had started a few hours after he and Braden had left on Saturday morning. They’d popped into her room long enough for Braden to say, “I-I’m s-orry you g-got s-ick,” then they’d left. Mark had promised to call. And he probably had, but she’d been so miserable and—she had to admit—disappointed that she hadn’t left her bed even to answer the phone.
Her sisters had practically force-fed her chicken soup and that astringent-tasting concoction of Liz’s.
“It’s called kombucha,” Liz had told her when she’d visited a few hours after Mark and Braden had left. “It’s made from fermented mushrooms and—”
“Don’t,” Alex had said, handing back the empty glass. “I think it might have helped settle my stomach, and I can almost tolerate the taste, but I don’t want to know where it comes from.”
Liz had saluted and left. She’d returned daily with a fresh glass of her mouth-puckering brew. Now, she was back again.
“Good morning. The nurse of Christmas present here,” she called from the doorway. “Are you alive?”
Alex was sitting up, her feet touching the floor. She’d arisen early and taken a long hot bath, but the effort had drained her, and she’d returned to bed in fresh pj’s. She hadn’t taken time to blow dry her hair and cringed to think how bad she looked.
“Barely,” she called. The word came out as a froggy croak.
Liz stared at Alex a minute then grinned and motioned for someone to join her. “She’s fine. Just about her usual feisty self.”
Alex looked up. For half a second she hoped…Mark? But no, the man who stepped to Liz’s side wasn’t Mark. “Hi, David…I mean, Paul. I might be on the road to recovery, but I have days and days of cooties on my teeth so I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.”
“Ewww,” Liz said, scrunching up her nose. “More information than my poor fiancé needed.”
“Sorry.” She stared at the pair a moment. Something had happened. “You two are beaming so bright I need sunglasses. What’s up?”
“We’re going to India,” Liz said, hopping from foot to foot in a most un-Liz-like fashion.
“Tomorrow,” her fiancé added.
“But tomorrow’s Christmas,” Alex stated, dumbfounded.
Paul made an oh-well gesture. “Not in some parts of the world. We got a great, last-minute flight—probably because of the holiday.”
Liz rushed forward, although she stopped short of hugging Alex. “We’re going to meet our baby.”
Alex’s mouth dropped open. She scooted back on the bed to make room for her sister to sit. “How? When? Tell me everything.”
Paul came closer to stand just behind Liz. Together, they talked—each filling in the other’s sentences and adding so much information that Alex’s head started to whirl. Apparently the child in question was not Prisha—the little girl Liz had wanted to adopt before the child’s mother had come back into the picture. “Prisha is doing great,” Liz said, “and if we have time we’ll take a side trip to visit her, but we just don’t know yet.”
“We want to spend as much time as they’ll give us getting to know our baby,” Paul put in, reaching out to clasp Liz’s hand.
He explained that different areas of the country have different adoption policies. “We should be able to bring her home within the year,” he said.
“Her? It’s a girl? That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you both.” And she meant it. Her sister truly deserved this happiness. “When does your flight leave? Will you be here for the dinner at Romantique?”
For the third year, the Romani clan and many generous friends planned to provide a holiday meal for needy families. Normally, Alex would have been embroiled in the preparations these past couple of days, not hanging out in bed while others did all the work.
“We have to be at the airport by two, so we’ll head over to the restaurant in the morning and do our share before we take off,” Liz said.
>
“We both tend to travel light,” Paul added with a smile, “so we’ll leave our car in long-term parking and no one has to worry about picking us up when we get back on New Year’s Eve.”
Alex had to smile. The two were absolutely perfect for each other.
“Are you going to be well enough to pitch in?” Liz asked. “I hope so, but I’m not sure about going to Mom’s tonight. Why take the chance on giving anyone else my germs?”
Liz let out a theatrical gasp. “Alexandra Radonovic miss Christmas eve at Mom’s? Impossible. You’ll be there, even if we have to rent one of those clear plastic isolation tents.”
“Ha-ha. But the truth is I don’t feel particularly perky. You’ll all have more fun without me.”
Liz motioned Paul closer and whispered something in his ear. He responded by giving her a tender kiss, then he looked at Alex and said, “See you tonight, my almost-sister.” A second later, he was gone.
Alex gave Liz a serious look. “You’d better watch it. Being too bossy is a good way to lose a man.”
Liz kicked off her shoes and drew her legs across in front of herself. “What the heck is going on? I’ve never seen you this down in the dumps. Can’t be your electrolytes.”
The last was said with a wink that actually made Alex laugh. “Hormones,” she admitted. “I started my period.”
“Oh…oh. And you thought…”
“Not for sure. But kinda. The test said I was, but it had only been a few days since Mark and I were together, and I knew the results weren’t completely accurate. Still…”
Liz reached out and touched Alex’s shoulder. “Well, I do know what it feels like to think you’re going to be a mother and then just like that—” She snapped her fingers. “You’re not. It sucks, sweetie. And normally I’d tell you to take a week and wallow, but, sis, it’s Christmas. You don’t have a week.”
Alex laughed. She couldn’t help herself. As usual, her sister was right. “Okay, tell Mom I’ll drop by, but not for dinner and not for long. Just to watch Maya open her presents.”
The Quiet Child Page 18