His Ordinary Life

by Linda Winfree

  “You said there was more good news?” Barbara rubbed at the bare skin above her elbows, trying to bring some warmth to her chilled skin. She hoped he did. She needed it, and from the pinched look around Del’s mouth, he did, too.

  Tick nodded, a glimmer of excitement flaring in his gaze. “We did manage to get a DNA profile from the skin tissue under Blake’s fingernails. It wasn’t a complete match to the hairs found on Cassie’s body, either, but it was a mitochondrial match.”

  Del lifted an eyebrow. “Which means?”

  “Mitochondrial DNA is passed through the mother. You and I don’t have the same genetic makeup, but we have identical mitochondrial DNA. Your kids would, too, only they’d share Barb’s profile. So whoever Blake scratched, probably someone holding him while somebody else hit him, and whoever shed those hairs on Cassie, probably during the murder—”

  “Had the same mother,” Del finished, awareness dawning in his eyes.

  Tick nodded. “And had Y chromosomes. Two males with matching mitochondrial DNA. Brothers.” He grinned. “It gets better. The semen from the condom? Matches to the skin from Blake’s nails.”

  Shaking his head, Del frowned. “So the guy who held my kid for somebody to beat the crap out of him is the same sick bastard who ja—” The words died and he cast a quick glance at Barbara. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You call that getting better?”

  “It means our field of suspects can be narrowed.” Tick’s tone had taken on a hint of the long-suffering older brother. “Instead of a hundred or more dark-haired teenagers, we’re looking for two of them. Brothers. Possibly with a connection to Anna as well. They can lead us to the truth.”

  “When we find them,” Barbara whispered. If they found them. Dark-haired brothers. She was already going over a mental checklist, reviewing the boys she knew from school, and she had seven pairs. How many more could there be?

  “Cookie’s working on getting us a warrant to have the school give us a list of siblings, but you could give us a jump on that by going through a yearbook and starting a list for me with the ones you know, especially if they interact with Blake.”

  They went to school together. They could interact anywhere—the lunchroom, in the halls, at sports practice, in classes—without her ever knowing. It was frightening, how little she really knew of her son’s day-to-day life. She shivered again.

  Tick tilted his head toward the door. “Are you coming in while I talk to him?”

  Del’s brows rose again. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A logical one.”

  “An asinine one. Of course we’re coming in.”

  “Think he’s going to talk with you there?”

  “Well, he’s sure as hell not going to talk without one of us.”

  “What is your problem?” Tick frowned. “You act like I’m trying to drag him out of here in cuffs.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to keep from happening.” A rough laugh shook Del’s body and he scrubbed a hand down the side of his leg. “You think like a cop, and you’re going to approach him, thinking like a cop, even if he is family. Yeah, I know, you’re just doing your job. So am I. I’m his father, and I’m not letting you or anyone else treat him the way Daddy let John Hollowell treat me when Will died.”

  A grimace of distaste twisted Tick’s features. “You know, I could have gone all day without you comparing me to that corrupt son of a gun.” His gaze flickered away then back at his brother. “So are we talking to him now, or do you want to call Autry, too?”

  Del shrugged. “We can talk to him now. But there’s one rule—whenever Barb or I say stop, that’s it. You stop then.”

  Tick nodded. “Fine.”

  “Okay.” Del smiled at Barbara, a reassuring curve of his mouth, and moved toward the door. “Ready?”

  She didn’t move. “Wait.”

  Two pairs of identical black brows dropped into frowns—Tick’s impatient, Del’s confused. Del reached for her hand. “What?”

  Barbara flicked a glance at his brother. “Tick, give us a second, please?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I’m going to go in, but I promise not to ask anything yet.”

  The door swished closed behind him. Del, brows still lowered, looked down at her. “What is it? Do you want to call this off? We’ve got to talk to him sooner or later, baby, and—”

  “No. I know this is necessary. But I’m not going in.”

  If anything, his confused frown deepened. “Why not?”

  “Because he needs you.” The words burned her throat. “You have to handle this.”

  “He needs both of us—”

  She shook her head. “No, right now, he needs you, because you’ll understand how afraid he is and because you’ll understand exactly how much he needs your support. I can’t give him that.”

  His eyes softened, glowed. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Her stomach fell with the words, much as it had when she’d relinquished Blake to his hold for the first time, when he was just minutes old, red and squalling. She smiled, although her lips trembled, and tapped her finger against his wrist. “Go.”

  He moved, but looked back at her once, his gaze fiery and sweet. The door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the hall.

  She stared at the door for a long moment and turned away. The sunlight outside beckoned, the palm fronds on the patio outside waving in a lazy breeze, but she couldn’t leave. Her heart was tied to whatever was said in the room behind her.

  Rubber soles squeaked on the tile, and Barbara turned. A nurse’s aide hustled down the hall, pushing a cart laden with balloons, flowers and stuffed animals. The woman paused, puffed a curl of gray hair off her forehead, and consulted a clipboard. From the cart, she lifted an armful of items—a green plant, a large balloon hovering over a stuffed tiger, a smiley-face carnation in a milk-glass vase, and a second balloon attached to a large white envelope. She eyed Blake’s closed door.

  “Are those for Blake?” Barbara stepped forward with a smile. At the woman’s nod, she held out her hands. No one was disturbing the conversation in that room. “I’m his mother. I’ll take them.”

  The woman deposited the gifts in her arm and continued down the hall. Barbara surveyed the hallway for a place to set the heavy plant. The balloons bounced and danced, ribbons wrapping around her arms. The carnation grinned up at her, one of its pasted-on googly eyes at an odd angle.

  “Let me help you with those.” Brian Rawlings’s deep voice held a hint of laughter and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of a local college band, he looked relaxed and approachable, quite different from his buttoned-up school persona.

  “Thanks.” Barbara held the plant in his direction. “Would you set that by the door, please?”

  “No problem.” He did so and straightened to look down at her. Interest glinted in his blue eyes and she shifted, uncomfortable. He nodded toward Blake’s door. “Why are you out here?”

  “Del and his brother are talking to Blake.” She put on a polite facade. “What brings you by on such a great Saturday?”

  “I heard about what happened at your house and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Your brother-in-law’s a cop, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  “I saw him at school, doing interviews. He and Blake look a lot alike.”

  “They do. All the Calvert men look alike. Blake’s no exception.”

  Brian glanced away, a slight twist to his mouth. “Makes it a little hard for you to forget the past, doesn’t it?”

  She swallowed hard and wrapped a balloon’s ribbon around her finger. “Brian—”

  “I never had a chance, did I?” He looked at her again, his gaze wry. “You’re not over him.”

  If she wasn’t telling her children she still loved their father, she certainly wasn’t telling Brian. Instead, she shook her head. “I’d like us to be friends, thoug
h.”

  “We already are. I’d hoped we could be more.” He shrugged, still smiling. “But you know how it goes…you win some, you lose some.”

  Relieved he was taking the rejection so well, she laughed lightly. “I appreciate your coming by to check on us today. And helping me get my grades straight. Your taking that on has been a godsend.”

  He chuckled. “That’s what friends do, right?”

  Blake’s door swished open and she spun, her heart thudding. Tick stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click. He darted a quick, quizzical look at Brian.

  Barbara indicated Brian with a wave. “This is Brian Rawlings. He teaches with me at the high school.”

  The two men exchanged perfunctory handshakes.

  Barbara lifted her eyebrows at Tick. “What’s going on?”

  Tick shrugged. “He wants to talk to Del, alone.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “No.”

  “But he wants to talk to Del?” Shifting the goofy beaming carnation to the same arm with the stuffed tiger, she pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Do you think he’s going to tell him?”

  Tick tugged a hand through his hair. “Lord, I hope so.”

  Footsteps and a soft giggle drew their attention. Traci Herndon approached from the elevator area, a slight young man by her side. Barbara smiled. Somewhere in the crowd downstairs, Traci had found Jamie Reese. He moved with quick, nervous movements, his posture painfully self-conscious next to Traci’s exuberance.

  As the two teens neared, Jamie glanced up, tossed his sandy bangs back and gave Barbara a shy grin. “Hey, Miss Barbara.” He held his hand out to Tick and shot a quick wary glance at Brian. “Mr. Calvert. Mr. Rawlings.”

  Tick gave the boy’s hand a shake. “How’s your mama?”

  Jamie ducked his head, hiding bashful eyes. “She’s good.”

  “That is so cute!” Traci touched a finger to the silly carnation in the crook of Barbara’s arm. “Who sent it?”

  “I haven’t looked.” Barbara forced a smile for the girl’s benefit. “We’ll let Blake open the cards.”

  Traci bounced on her heels. “When can we see him?”

  “In a few minutes.” Barbara shook her head, her smile feeling less forced. She’d taught Traci the semester before; that eternal enthusiasm was hard to resist. “He’s with his dad.”

  The simple phrase conjured a lifetime of images, all boiled down to Del measuring Blake’s hand against his own, his faith that their son couldn’t be a killer, his determination to protect Blake.

  She couldn’t have placed him in better hands.

  The door opened again. Del stepped into the hall. Barbara’s gaze flew to his face—he was pale, his eyes damp and red-rimmed. She clutched the gifts tighter to keep from reaching for him. She swallowed, her throat tight, his silence stretching between them.

  “Del?” Her voice trembled. “What did he say?”

  “Everything.” A deep breath traveled through Del’s body with a visible shudder. “He told me everything.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Barbara slipped into Blake’s room, her arms still laden with his get-well offerings. Eyes closed, he lay against the pillow. She pushed the door shut with her foot. “Blake?”

  He opened his eyes, the brown depths shimmering with unshed tears. His mouth trembled and firmed, the tense line of his jaw telling her he was biting the inside of his lip to keep it still. Her heart contracted. God, he looked so much like Del. And she loved both of them so much.

  He blinked, the glitter in his gaze intensifying. The first tears slipped over his lashes. He sucked in a harsh breath, moments before the rough sobs attacked his lean frame.

  Barbara dumped the gifts on the table by the window. The smiling carnation tipped over, water dripping on the floor. She sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He shook in her embrace, crying into the curve of her neck, and she held him closer.

  “Mama,” he gasped, his face warm and moist against her skin, “I was so scared.”

  “I know.” She stroked his hair, the strands thick and soft under her fingers. With the picture of him, scared, alone, hurting, in her mind, her heart ached. She kissed the top of his head, inhaling the sharp medicinal scent of Betadine. “I know.”

  He cried harder, his arms around her waist, tremors shaking him. Mindful of his still-healing surgical incision, Barbara rocked him in a gentle sway, much as she had when he’d been small and had awakened from a nightmare.

  “I wanted to tell you.” The words emerged on choked sobs. “But I couldn’t. Mason s-said…he said he’d hurt…I was afraid for you and the girls. He’d already hurt me and I’d seen what they did to Cassie.”

  Oh, God. She hugged him closer, pressing her cheek to his hair. She’d give anything to take that memory away from him, but at least she could help him deal with it. Tori could help them there.

  “Mason?” Barbara lifted her head. She smoothed his damp bangs away from his forehead. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Mason Monroe?”

  He gulped back a sob, the sound audible in the quiet room, and nodded. “Daddy didn’t tell you?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” she said, still struggling to process her jumbled thoughts. “He…he’s talking to your Uncle Tick.” All she’d wanted to do was get to Blake. She wet her suddenly dry lips. “Blake, Mason attacked you?”

  Tensing, he pulled away. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me—”

  “No. No, it’s not that.” She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. Distress glimmered in the dark gaze. She smiled, her mouth trembling, and she brushed at the edges of his hair again. “I do believe you. I do.”

  And she did. He had no reason to lie. Not now. Anger burned, spreading a trail of acid through her veins. The little rat. Pretending to be concerned, to be Blake’s friend, when all the while he’d been responsible for his injuries.

  She shook off the fury. Her first concern, her only concern, was Blake. She could give in to the anger later. At this moment, her son needed reassurance. “Blake, listen to me.” Urgency saturated her voice. “I believe you. Everything will be fine. I promise you. Uncle Tick and your daddy—”

  “He’s staying.” He blurted the statement, excitement lacing the words. “He said he was. He’s not going back.”

  “I know.” She smiled and kissed his forehead. “I know.”

  With a fist, he scrubbed at his eyes, the action of an exhausted and distraught child. Barbara stroked his hair, the painful surge of maternal love filling her once more. “You’re tired and you need some rest. It’s been a long morning.”

  He lay back against the pillow and blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. “Mama, I’m sorry. For everything.”

  Holding his hand, she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “I know you are, honey. But no more secrets, okay? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  His eyes slid closed, but he smiled. “That’s what Daddy said, too.”

  Rising to her feet, she leaned down to kiss him. “Rest now. I’ll be outside for a minute, then I’m coming back.”

  He nodded and blew out a long, unsteady breath. Barbara looked at him for an extended moment, watching relaxation smooth the worry from his features. She eased away from the bed.

  “Mama?” His drowsy voice stopped her halfway to the door.

  “Hmmm?” She turned. His eyes remained shut, but a small gleeful grin curved his mouth.

  “I don’t think I’m the only reason Daddy’s not going back to Atlanta.”

  What could she say to that? “Go to sleep, Delbert Blake. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  His sleepy chuckle followed her. In the hallway, Del leaned against the wall. Tick stood down the corridor, using the courtesy phone at the nurse’s station. Brian had disappeared, as well as Traci and Jamie.

  Del straightened, his features tight. “Is he all right?”

 
She nodded, wanting to reach out and smooth away the frown lines on his brow. “He’s resting.”

  “Good.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Tick’s arranging to have Mason Monroe picked up.”

  “I can’t…” The words faded, and she fiddled with one of her earrings. Something just didn’t fit. She bit her lip and glanced at Del. “Tick said brothers. He’s looking for a pair of brothers.”

  “Yeah. I guess they’ll pick both of them up.”

  “That’s the thing, Del. Mason doesn’t have a brother. He’s an only child.”

  “Are you sure?” Tick asked, joining them. He looked harried, his jaw clenched, fine lines fanning out from his exhausted eyes.

  “I’m positive.”

  Tick frowned. “I’ll have Williams run the DNA profile again. She could have made a mistake, which knowing her, isn’t very likely. She’s meticulous as hell. It’s possible one of the samples was corrupted.”

  “You’re still picking this kid up, right?” Seething anger hardened Del’s voice.

  “Of course. We’ll take him and Keimond in for questioning, and I can hold him based on Blake’s statement.” Tick glanced between them. “I need him to talk to me officially, though.”

  “Keimond Jones?” Barbara stared at him, her eyebrows raised.

  “He didn’t tell you that part?”

  She shook her head, a dazed unreality holding her. “He was upset. We didn’t get that far.”

  Del ran a hand over his leg. “Blake was looking for Jamie Reese that night, to go riding along the bluff. He found the other two instead. The Howard girl was already dead. The Monroe kid told him to keep his mouth shut, made some threats, had the Jones boy rough him up a little while Monroe held him.”

  “Mason and Keimond?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “You don’t understand. They hate each other. I have them together in second period and it’s a constant struggle to keep them from each other’s throats. My entire seating chart revolves around those two. They’re good kids separately—” Tick and Del exchanged a look at her words, and she sighed. “I thought they were good kids, both smart and hard workers. But put them together, and you have chaos. Greg Tucker had to separate them at football practice last week.”