The rest of her shift went by without a hitch.
By the time she refueled the patrol car, handed in her paperwork, and tracked down that they’d transferred her uncle to the Nashua Street Jail, Kate was exhausted, and so she headed home.
She had to do something to get that damn Matt out of her head and fast.
Chapter Five
June 26, 2015
Kate Murphy
Kate’s Apartment, Boston
When she got home from work, Kate couldn’t think of anything better to do than put on her running shoes and go for a ten-mile run.
At mile nine, she spotted a liquor store. She checked her hidden pocket to see if she had brought any money with her. Running had become such an automated process, she couldn’t recall if she’d done so. She found her driver’s license, a credit card, and a twenty-dollar bill in there.
She stepped into the store and headed toward the vodka shelf. She had never been able to tell the difference between cheap and expensive liquor, so whatever was on sale would be her treat tonight.
Mr. Boston it is.
Running the last mile with the bottle in a brown paper bag felt a little unbalanced, but it wasn’t any worse than pursuing a suspect with her gun drawn.
Once home, she drank a large bottle of Gatorade and turned on the shower to allow the water to get hot. She threw her new bottle of vodka in the freezer next to a bag of french fries and a pint of vanilla ice cream. Ready for her shower, she stripped to nothing on her way to the washing machine, where she dumped her sweaty clothes before walking back to her steamy bathroom.
The hot water felt good on her skin. Her day had sucked. Why did she have to run into Matt? And how the fuck was she going to prove that her uncle was innocent?
Did he do it?
She shook her head.
Not a chance.
However, there was no proof that he didn’t do it either.
She got out of the shower, patted herself dry, and then put on yoga pants and a spaghetti strap tank top. She didn’t do yoga. She’d once thought about learning it, so she’d bought an outfit and discovered that the clothes were comfortable and didn’t bunch up as much as real pajamas when she slept. She still hadn’t learned yoga, and probably wasn’t going to, but that didn’t matter.
Nothing matters now.
After all that had happened, Kate had developed thick skin. She had discovered that she didn’t mind being alone. In fact, she preferred it on many occasions. But now, without the option to go over to her uncle’s house and play a game of cards with him, she felt lonely. Forsaken.
No way she was going to call her ex, Matt. He was a conman, plain and simple. He was someone else’s problem now.
She wondered what Luko was doing tonight. After all, it was Friday. He was probably out with friends or on a date. Didn’t she overhear him sweet-talk a woman on the phone before leaving the lab the other day?
She was at a loss for what to do or who to call.
She sat down in the middle of her living room, folded her legs, and then leaned her head into her palms, elbows resting on her knees.
Get a grip, Kate!
She took a deep breath, looked up and tried to focus on facts, not the harmful feelings brewing within her.
She glanced around and tried to be grateful for what she had. She’d rented this loft not too long after her separation. It was small but cozy; perfect for her. The open concept only hid the bathroom. She could reach her bedroom by climbing up a small set of stairs along the wall. The bed rested against the back, and, through the glass balustrade, she could view her fireplace and kitchen below. The living room opened onto a small balcony, which offered a beautiful view of the city at night. It was just big enough to fit a small patio set for two or a barbecue, but Kate had decided to install a full-size hammock instead. It was huge. In fact, two people could probably fit in it, but she liked it because it comforted her. The mesh fabric wrapped itself around her, offering a full-body hug.
She stood up, walked outside to her balcony, and rested in the hammock for a while, closing her eyes, and listening to the sounds of the city on this warm summer evening. A large oak tree was nearby. She could hear its inhabiting birds chirping to one another. After a half hour, she felt the need for a distraction, so she returned inside and closed the patio door.
She turned on the TV and flicked through the channels, hoping to find a funny movie, but it was in vain. She watched the news for a while. They mentioned her uncle’s case, but nothing she didn’t know already. Once the news anchor moved on to another topic, Kate turned it off and switched on the radio instead, opting for the soft rock station, or whatever they called the one that sounded like elevator music.
Nothing too loud or too upbeat, but nothing that makes me jump off a bridge either.
Kate walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, got the chilled vodka and ice tray out of the freezer, and made her first drink of the night. She added a dash of 7UP, drank it on the spot, and then made a second one to take back with her to the living room.
“Aunt Lucy, Mom, Dad, little Bobby,” Kate said out loud, staring at the wall in front of her. “If you can hear me, I need your help. Please guide me so I can free Uncle Kenny.”
She shook her head.
Am I losing my mind? I’m talking to ghosts. Again. But who knows what happens to us after we pass? It’s worth a try.
She smiled as she recollected the stuff she’d done after her parents’ death. She’d seen psychics, used a Ouija board, and tried everything she could to get in touch with them, but to no avail.
“Sometimes talking out loud can help,” the psychotherapist had told her. And sometimes—with increased frequency these days—she did just that.
She grabbed her cellphone to play another round of that stupid, addictive candy game. When she ran out of lives, she got annoyed by the prompt suggesting she ask her friends for more lives.
What friends?
Why didn’t she have friends? A friend would be nice right about now. She reached for her phone again. She texted Luke:
Hey, what are you up to?
Not expecting a reply right away, she returned to the kitchen and poured herself another drink. She grabbed the bottle and brought it back with her to the living room.
When she plopped down next to the coffee table, her phone buzzed with a new incoming text:
Nothing interesting, u?
Same. Want to come over?
Sure, what’s ur address?
238 Maple Pl. Apt 3B
OK, b there in 15
:)
Luko arrived with a bag of chips and a four-pack of draft Guinness.
Kate invited him in. He took off his shoes, and she gave him the grand tour, which took a whole fifteen-seconds.
“Nothing much to show,” she said. “I don’t need much room. Here’s the patio.” She opened the door to let him out on it.
“I like it,” he said after taking a minute to admire the scenery.
She returned to the living room, and he followed.
He pointed at the vodka bottle on the coffee table. “I see you’ve got a head start on me.”
Kate wondered how drunk she looked. “Well, it’s not a habit, but I needed to unwind tonight.”
She sat on the love seat and tapped on it, inviting him to sit next to her.
A three-person couch would have been too big for the room, so she’d bought a love seat and a single padded chair. Usually, it felt awkward to sit next to someone on this couch, but sharing the love seat with Luko felt right.
“Did you have a good week at work?” she asked.
“Busy, but okay. How’s your uncle doing?”
“I haven’t had a chance to...” she started, but felt shameful about lying to him. “No, that’s not true, I didn’t feel brave enough to go see him because I’ve failed him. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t want to disappoint him and break his spirit.”
Luke stared into her eyes. Kate felt the need
to look away. He lifted her chin with his index finger, but Kate kept her gaze down.
“Katie, look at me.”
She obeyed, ashamed of exposing her green eyes that were probably turning red. She could feel them filling with tears.
Luke spoke softly to her as he moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Right now, he doesn’t need you to free him. Kenny just needs you, your company, your support. He needs hope right now and for you to visit him, to make him realize that you care. That’s what family is for.”
Kate turned away again, and a few tears escaped from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She knew Luke was right.
“I’ll go see him tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Kate blinked, surprised by his offer. “No,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be okay.”
Luke let go of her shoulder, adjusted on the couch, and reached for a beer. As he popped it open, he said, “Now, enough of the pity party. Let me tell you a good story I heard in the lab today.” He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders to bring her closer to him. “Do you know the best way to determine the sex of a chromosome?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“You pull down its genes.”
She snickered and shook her head. “Silly.”
“Here’s another one: a frog sees an ad for a psychic and wants to know his future, so he calls in. The psychic tells him he’s going to meet a beautiful young girl who will want to know everything about him. So, the frog asks the psychic, ‘Where will I meet her?’ The psychic says, ‘In biology class.’ ”
Kate pulled out of his embrace and pushed him on the chest.
“That’s horrible,” she said, though she laughed even as she reproached him.
“Maybe, but we’re all geeks and nerds in the lab. And to be fair, all the samples we’re analyzing have a pretty negative backstory attached to them, so we try to keep it light and positive whenever we can.” He got up and walked into the kitchen. “Where do you keep your glasses and bowls?”
“On your right, over the sink,” she called out. “Bowls are in the next one to the right.”
“Thanks.”
He came back with two glasses stacked on top of each other, the top one filled with water. He had a bowl in the other hand.
“Here’s some water for you,” he said before pouring his beer into the empty glass. While the foam settled, he opened the bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips and dumped them into the bowl.
“It’s Friday night. I thought you’d be out on a date with a boyfriend or something.”
She laughed for a brief second. “Not me. Haven’t been on a date in years.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, assessing her. “The little pig-headed, freckled girl I knew, with the big gap between her front teeth, turned into a beautiful woman. You’re obviously smart and independent. That major canyon between your teeth has disappeared. I don’t see why you’d be here alone on a Friday night if it weren’t by choice.”
Kate felt her cheeks warm up.
Was it due to his compliment or the vodka?
Maybe a bit of both.
She smiled, sipped the water he’d brought, and then leaned against him. It was odd to have him here. Odd, but nice. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. She closed her eyes for a second, contented for the first time today.
When Kate awakened, Luke’s face was close to hers, and she could feel his arms moving from underneath her back and knees. She was now in her bedroom. Had he carried her upstairs?
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered when their eyes met. “You’ll be more comfortable in here.”
He pulled the comforter over her and was heading back downstairs when Kate called out to him.
“Luko...”
He returned to her side.
She reached for his hand. “Come here and lie next to me.”
“I should really go home now.”
“Just for a minute.”
He hesitated then lay next to her, on top of the comforter.
She turned to face him. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For nothing and everything.”
She brought her index finger to his jawline and traced it; his beard felt a lot softer than she’d imagined. He closed his eyes, and she outlined his lips, feeling the left corner of his mouth rise into a smile. After letting out a slow breath, he opened his eyes, pushed her hand down to her side, and then gently grabbed the back of her head before leaning closer to kiss her.
His lips were warm and firm; demanding yet kind. She felt her heartbeat increase as her body responded to his kiss. She moved closer to him, but the comforter was in the way. His lips parted, and she let her passion ignite, fueled by long-harbored feelings for him that she didn’t realize existed.
One of his hands went down her back and then up, underneath her tank top. She wanted to touch him as well. Needing to feel the warmth of his body against hers, she kicked the covers down to the foot of the bed. Luke lay on top of her. She started tugging at his T-shirt, but he stopped and pulled it over his head, exposing his chest.
She let her hands run along his firm pecks, stumbling across the odd hair here and there, her fingers brushing down his stomach. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him closer.
His hands slid up from her hips to get her top off. Kate arched her back slightly to help him but was surprised when his hands flew away from her and gripped his hair instead. He sat up.
He’s stopping?
“No, I shouldn’t.” His voice was rough and laced with passion and confusion.
“What?” Kate asked.
He pushed further away. “Sorry, Katie. I can’t.”
Luke got up, looked for his T-shirt, and then put it back on, inside out with the label sticking out below his chin.
He knelt beside the bed, next to her. “Good night, Katie.” He placed a peck on her forehead, got up, and then said, “I’ll let myself out.”
Kate lay there unmoving as she heard the door close.
What happened? How did I screw this up?
On Saturday morning, Kate awoke to the sound of her alarm ringing in the distance. Her head felt like a nuclear bomb had detonated inside it, but she fumbled her way out of bed and downstairs toward the annoying sound.
She finally found her phone in the living room, turned the alarm off, and then threw it back on the table. It landed next to a half-empty vodka bottle, a bowl of now-stale chips, a glass of water, and a half-pint of Guinness.
Luko came over, she hazily recollected. We made out, then... What the heck happened?
While the details didn’t quite form a complete picture, she remembered he’d left suddenly. She checked her phone for a possible text message from him.
There was one unread message:
Hey, pretty thing, how’s it going? Want some company?
No name. Unknown number.
She had no idea who had sent her that message.
She had Luke’s number in her phone, so this message wasn’t from him.
She texted back:
Who is this?
Kate grabbed the beer glass and took it to the kitchen to dump it in the sink. She returned to the table, about to fetch a few more items when she realized she was in no mood—and no state—to clean up right now.
Her phone beeped with a reply to her text message:
An Italian-blooded horse. At your service.
Argh, Smitty.
It was too early for this. How did he get her number? Her head rumbled like the Red Line speeding through the tunnels. She drank the glass of water sitting on the table and then went back to sleep.
Three hours later, she woke up feeling slightly better, although angry with herself for her behavior and annoyed at not knowing what the fuck had happened.
Relationships were too freaking complicated. Wasn’t this why she had sworn off men after her divorce?
There was no way she would ever understand and be in-sync with another human being.
She showered then popped a couple of acetaminophens to get rid of what was left of her hangover. She picked the first thing from her closet and ended up dressed in capri pants, a light blouse, and flip-flops. She looked in the full-length mirror hung by the door and decided to tie her hair into her standard, low-maintenance ponytail, before wondering if her outfit was appropriate for jail. She Googled the Nashua Street jail visiting policy and found out that rubber bands and flip-flops were not approved.
I’d better adhere to their rules.
She untied her hair, traded her footwear for loafers, grabbed her car keys, and then headed to see her uncle.
Kate went through the visitor-pass process reasonably quickly before sitting down and waiting for Kenny to appear. As soon as she saw him, it dawned on her that Luke had been right. The energy radiating from Kenny’s smile could have powered a small village. There was nothing to fear about how he would react to her lack of progress. All he needed was a friendly face.
He sat down and started speaking. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d heard him spew so many words in one sitting.
“The lawyer I got, George Hudson, did I tell you his dad was wrongly accused? That’s how he became interested in the legal system and why he later became a lawyer.”
“Was he responsible for freeing his dad?” Kate asked, trying her best to match her uncle’s enthusiasm.
“No, his dad was sentenced to death when George was still young. He hadn’t finished law school yet, but the real killer confessed about a year later.”
“Later? You mean... after he had already been executed?”
“Yep.”
“That’s awful.” Kate looked down, not wanting to meet her uncle’s eyes right now. She was glad the death penalty had been abolished in Massachusetts.
The Last Hope Page 5