Ready to Roll

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She looked pointedly back at her brother-in-law in a silent Tell Cody what? If he thought she was going anywhere so he could share more secrets with Wade, he had another think coming.

  But Wade seemed to know what Ben’s dot-dot-dot meant. “We’ll see,” he said with a tight smile.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go home,” Ben said. “You can come to our place.”

  “For a playdate?” Wade said. “Gee whiz golly, Benjy, I don’t think so.”

  “Seriously, Wade,” Ben started.

  “I have to go. He’s expecting me, and if I don’t show, he might take it out on her.” Wade turned for the parking lot, but then he turned back and told Jenn, “Thank you. For coming here and…”

  His voice trailed off, so she finished for him. “And lying for you?” she asked. “Through my teeth?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I don’t want thanks,” she said. “I want an explanation.”

  Wade looked at Ben and shook his head. “I see where you get it from. The I deserve to know gene.”

  “She’s married to my half-brother,” Ben pointed out. “No genes. And really, Wade, maybe you should—”

  “Then it’s nurture over nature,” Wade interrupted him. “Or whatever.” He turned back to Jenn. “I think we all know that you came to Ben’s rescue, not mine. I was thanking you to be polite. When it comes to explanations, I owe you shit. But nice shirt.” He started to walk away, his body language very much like his brother’s had been.

  Ben tried to stop her, but Jenni pulled free and followed. “Wade, please tell Angel that she’s not alone. She can call me or come over to my house. Anytime. She’ll be safe there.”

  Wade actually stopped and even though he didn’t turn to look at her, he nodded.

  “And honey,” Jenn added as gently as she could, “that goes for you, too. You’re not alone, either.”

  Her words were too much for him. “I gotta go,” Wade roughly said again, and this time when he headed toward his car, he didn’t stop.

  Jenn turned to Ben. “In the car, mister. Now.”

  “Jenni, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go home yet—”

  “We’re not going home,” she told him flatly. “I’m not an idiot. We’re following Wade.”

  * * *

  Petty Officer First Class

  Irving “Izzy” Zanella:

  I’m up in the Grinder, hanging out near the bell, when Boat Squad John finally staggers in from the beach.

  The rest of the class is already out on the O-course. The Johns have set a new record for being late, which means the penance they’ll need to do for losing the race Around-the-World is expanding exponentially.

  So moving with speed’s a priority for them.

  But the squad stops short. Well, Seagull stops short and the squad kinda has to stop, too. They’ve got their duck up over their heads, so they’re either all moving or all not.

  But I’m watching the Gull, and the look on his face is…

  Little dude’s heartbroken. And I turn and I see that he’s looking at the long row of helmet liners—at all those names of the guys who’ve rung out. And yeah, there’s Jake Harris’s liner. He’s the most recent of the Never-Gonnas.

  But then the Gull turns, and I see that Grunge—Lieutenant Greene—has come in early, and he’s looking back at the Gull with his default No one on the planet has big enough balls to talk to me, let alone confront me expression on his face.

  But the Gull’s apparently got basketballs, because he says, “Did anyone at least try to talk Jake into staying?”

  Behind the Gull, Timebomb starts twitching and hissing. But then I realize that he’s whispering “Sir, sir, sir,” and nudging Gull.

  So the Gull then plops this totally belligerent and stinking turd of a Sir onto Grunge.

  Who deigns to respond with, “That’s not our job.” The LT’s tone is light, but his body language is filled with warning, and a mere mortal would’ve slunk away in fear and shame.

  In fact, the other guys in Boat Squad John are trying to do just that. But the Gull doesn’t move. “He should’ve been medically rolled,” he says.

  This time ’Bomb drops the sir for him, and he’s working it to imitate Seagull’s tenor. It’s pretty good, but really, no one’s fooled.

  Still, Grunge kinda laughs and when he speaks, his tone stays pleasant. “Harris was given the choice. This was what he picked.”

  The Gull is smart enough to recognize that this conversation with the lieutenant is a very shiny gift, as opposed to the ass-kicking he should’ve been getting for speaking freely to an officer without permission, so he starts his next accusation with his own clearly vocalized respect.

  “Sir. Jake Harris was in no condition to make that choice. He should’ve been given more time.”

  “Well, Livingston,” Grunge says easily, like they’re chatting at a cookout, near the cooler that holds the beer, “when you make admiral? You can push to change that rule.” His words are definitely a dismissal. He even turns away.

  But Hans Schlossman, who is impossibly tone deaf in even the best of circumstances, chooses that moment to chime in. “Lieutenant Greene, sir. I’m now without a swim buddy.”

  And Grunge keeps the same conversational, almost light tone as he turns back to say, “And whose fault is that, Hans? Good riddance. Wasn’t that what you said instead of sticking close to Jake Harris?”

  Hans kinda gulps and doesn’t say anything, as once again, the Gull tries to interject. “It served the squad better, sir, for me to go after Jake—”

  “I’m not talking to you,” Grunge cuts him off as he moves in closer to Schlossman. “I hear you were happy to let him drown, your good swim buddy. Nah, Hans, nah, there’s not a man in this class that I’d willingly pair up with you. You’re on your own. Or you could just save us all the massive trouble and ring out right-the-fuck now.” He gestures grandly toward the bell.

  Schlossman’s gaze jerks over to those helmet liners, with all of those names of bell-ringing Not-SEALs.

  But Seagull pulls him back in, speaking up even though Grunge has made it clear he should S-squared, you know, Stand the fuck still and shut the fuck up.

  “You can buddy up with us, Schloss,” the little dude says. “Timebomb and me. We know what really went down out there. We also know you didn’t mean what you said.”

  Timebomb Jackson, however, doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say a word, because Grunge retakes the floor, making tisking sounds.

  “Livingston, Livingston, Livingston,” he says, shaking his head. “You disappoint me with your naiveté. Schlossman here is gonna crash and burn. Don’t let him take the rest of you out with him. That would be a for-fucking-sure crying shame.”

  But Seagull now looks pointedly at the air next to Grunge’s left ear, and loudly says, “Sir. Permission for Boat Squad John to continue to the O-course, sir!”

  Grunge steps back and as they stagger off, he catches sight of me.

  “Forty quatloos that the little one gets the entire squad to the finish line, sir,” I say, paraphrasing from one of my favorite Star Trek episodes. The one where the aliens are these nasty-ass gamble-aholic brains on cake plates, so they use Kirk and the gang from the Enterprise to provide them with entertainment. You know, I am your drill thrall… That ep. “Schlossman included.”

  But Grunge just shakes his head. “Schloss’s done. And sooner or later, Livingston’s gonna see that.”

  “Or not,” I point out, but I’m talking to myself because he’s already gone.

  * * *

  Ben confessed nearly everything to Jenn as she drove them over to Wade’s house. Everything, that is, except for Wade’s crazy plan to kill or be killed by Cody.

  And as Ben did that—as he admitted that he’d outed Wade to Angel but that neither Ben nor Wade knew if she would now share that shocking newsflash with her husband—Jenn pointed to the test kit and the small box of chocolate milk that sat in the cup-holder of her c
ar. “I brought that in case you needed it.”

  The drama had made Ben’s blood sugar wonky, so he used the lance from the kit to prick his finger and… Yup. He popped the little straw into the box and took a slug. He didn’t need much, maybe half the kid-sized portion, at most. The key was in having a little something with both sugar and protein, but then waiting fifteen minutes for his body to respond. It was important not to have too much, too quickly.

  But he’d been managing his diabetes for as long as he could remember, so this was nothing new. And it was much easier now—living with people who actually cared about things like buying groceries and making sure his supply of insulin was readily available.

  People who cared about him.

  “Thank you and I love you—I don’t say either of those things enough,” Ben told Jenni and she made a kind of a hissing noise as she gave him a very solid side eye.

  “And that’s supposed to make this all better?” she asked. “As we do a drive-by of the house where some stupid boy who makes your life hell at school might be in peril from his own stupid brother?” But then she laughed. “And yeah, okay, it does. I love you, too. But we’re only driving past. We’re not stopping. We’re calling 9-1-1 if we see or hear anything worrisome. Got it?”

  Ben nodded. They’d started out following Wade, but had lost him at a red light that the older boy had blown through.

  So the first time they drove past the O’Keefe house, all was quiet. Cody’s truck was in the driveway and Wade’s Dodge Dart was parked on the road near the storm drain, windows shut. He’d probably locked it this time.

  The street was a dead end with a cul-de-sac, so they circled around and went past the house, slowly, again.

  Jenn went almost all the way down to the intersection, well out of sight of Wade’s house before she turned around in a neighbor’s driveway, and drove back.

  But it wasn’t until the fifth time past that they finally saw Wade coming out the door. He let the screen slap closed behind him as he went down the front steps and headed toward the open and cluttered garage.

  Jenn slowed way down, so they both could look and…

  Wade was muscling a lawn mower out into the front yard. He saw them and he purposely turned away, pulling the cord and starting the engine with a rattling roar.

  Jenn sped up a bit as she went around the cul-de-sac. “He seems okay.”

  “He does,” Ben agreed.

  “If Cody’s going back to work,” Jenn let her voice trail off.

  “We can come back later,” Ben said. “With Eden and Izzy—and maybe Jenk and Tony and Adam, too.”

  Jenn nodded. And slowed again as they approached the house where Wade was grimly cutting the grass.

  He wouldn’t look up and he wouldn’t look up but then finally Wade glanced over and Ben gave him a gesture that was part pointing finger, part open hand. It was meant to be Are you okay?

  Somehow Wade understood, and nodded. Just once.

  Ben held his hand up to his face in the international symbol for call me.

  He looked over and Jenn was doing it, too. Her right hand up to her face, thumb and pinkie open, everything else closed. But she pointed to Ben and mouthed the words Call him. And then she pointed to Cody’s truck, and her meaning was very clear.

  Call Ben as soon as Cody leaves for work.

  Wade’s response was to flip them the bird, of course.

  “That better have meant yes,” Jenn asked as they drove away. “Because I’m giving him an hour, and then I’m going to call Angel, and if I can’t reach her, I’m calling the police.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Late Wednesday/Early Thursday

  Jennilyn Gillman:

  Wednesday night was a trainwreck.

  Really, it started late Wednesday afternoon, when Wade O’Keefe didn’t call Ben.

  So I called Angel, and left a big faux cheerful message about her calling me back so we could find a time to have that brunch or lunch with the boys, and then we were back in wait mode.

  Ben convinced me to do another drive-by of the house instead of calling the police. And I have to admit that after I got home and Googled domestic violence, I realized that calling the police and reporting… what? My suspicions that this woman was being abused by her husband…? What exactly could the police do about that? Send someone out to talk to her? Which could potentially result in Cody retaliating or punishing her after the police officer left.

  Bottom line was that Angel had to pack up and leave this man—get herself someplace safe where he couldn’t find her. But it was clear from what I’d read that this wasn’t something that we could make her do—Fried Green Tomatoes aside, if you know what I mean. So yeah, short of chopping Cody up and cooking him in the barbeque without Angel knowing it… she had to want to get away. We could—and would—certainly help, but we couldn’t drag her. If we did, she’d just go back to him.

  I knew, too, that Cody had to see me as harmless, and if the police showed up on their doorstep hours after he’d met me, well… He’s violent and mean, but he’s not completely stupid.

  So we drove past the O’Keefe’s house again. And by we I mean Ben and Danny. This time, I stayed home with the baby, who was mercifully taking one of his rare naps.

  They were only gone a few minutes when the phone rang, and it was Angel, returning my call. I’m pretty sure Wade saw Ben and Danny driving past, and that worried him enough to somehow convince Cody to let Angel call me back.

  Because, yeah, Cody was still home. He didn’t go to work after all. He wasn’t feeling well—at least that’s what Angel told me. I’m pretty sure he was fine, but that his abuser’s sixth sense was tingling. He knew something was up, so he stayed home to keep an eye on his wife.

  That meant Ben and I couldn’t get either of them—Angel or Wade—to come over and talk about what was going on. From what I’d Googled, I knew they needed professional help. That much was very clear.

  But while I had Angel on the phone, we made tentative plans to have lunch with the boys on Friday, because she didn’t know which shift Cody would be working on Thursday—or if he’d even be well enough to work the next day at all. I made her promise to call me if Thursday opened up.

  And there we were. Fingers crossed that things remained stable. I could tell, though, that Ben was worried.

  Izzy and Eden came over for dinner—they brought the Chinese take-out with them—and Ben filled them in on what was happening. Or at least the basics. That Wade was trying to get Angel to leave Cody and hide out with some friends, out of state, but that Angel wasn’t ready.

  I couldn’t shake the idea that there was something that Ben wasn’t telling us—something that had to do with the reason Ben had outed Wade to Angel. I pushed him, but he just shook his head.

  He did ask to do a few more drive-bys, and this time both Dan and Izzy went, but everything stayed quiet at the O’Keefe house.

  Everything was quiet at our house, too.

  It was around nine when I realized that Colin had been asleep again, this time for over two hours. Everyone started celebrating, like “Way to go, Colin!”

  But I immediately went in to check on him.

  * * *

  Petty Officer First Class

  Dan Gillman:

  That was when the shit hit the fan.

  I’m gonna cut to the bottom line. Colin is fine.

  But like Izzy pointed out, Baby’s First ER Visit is one freaking intense edition of Choose Your Own Adventure. (laughs)

  So yeah, Jenni and I spent late Wednesday into most of Thursday in the hospital because Col had a fever that spiked insanely high.

  It was an ear infection. Turns out babies’ ears are really badly designed—until they grow and all those tubes start to bend, it doesn’t take much to turn the middle ear into a petrie dish. And of course, we missed the big warning sign which is a crying baby—at his age, there’s no ear pulling, he hasn’t found them yet. But because he was already crying from the colic
…

  At the time no one was laughing. Colin’s temperature was so high that when we called Kelly—Dr. Paoletti—she told us she’d meet us over at the ER. She didn’t want to waste any time by coming to our house first. So that was scary. It was also scary when she told us it was a good idea to keep him there for a while, under observation at the hospital, instead of sending us right back home.

  Yeah, we didn’t stagger back into our house until dinner time on Thursday.

  * * *

  Eden Zanella:

  Of course we went to the hospital with them. The idea that… (clears throat) Well, Colin’s fever was so high that…

  Babies die. They can die and…

  (Long silence)

  (Finally looks up) Izzy knew it was a trigger for me. But he also knew that I needed to go with them. Jenn and Dan. There was no way I was going to let them go through anything like… that… alone. No way.

  (Shaky smile) But Colin’s okay. And Izzy held my hand the whole time. Because he knew I was…

  And…

  That man is…

  I’m unbelievably lucky.

  * * *

  Jennilyn Gillman:

  By three a.m., it was very clear that Colin was responding to the antibiotic. His fever was already down. Izzy had to get back to the base at six—oh six hundred—so I told him that he and Eden should go, but they didn’t. They stayed.

  Ben did, too. He slept, curled up on one of those two-person hard plastic seats. But whenever I came out of the little ER room, you know, to use the bathroom, he sat up and asked me if he could get me anything.

  (Shaky smile) These Gillmans… This whole amazing family that I married into is…

  I’m unbelievably lucky.

  * * *

  Ben Gillman:

  Basically, I blackmailed Wade. I called his home line, fully intending to leave a message. Something like, We’re here in the hospital, baby’s got a really high fever, he’s gonna be okay, but I’m here for the duration, so if you want to work on the school project—wink wink—then you and Angel will have to come here.