by Amy Wallace
He wanted his cowboy boots. Stetson, and some of Sara’s true Southern sweet tea.
His partner’s typing on the other side of the partition halted. “Clint? Remember graduation? Those were the days, weren’t they? No heating pads necessary after assessments.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were coming up on a birthday or something. Thinking about your creaking joints, old man?” Clint stood and leaned against the partition. “Hey wait. You are coming up on a birthday aren’t you?”
“Leave it to you to remember things like birthdays. I’m trying to forget.” Steven returned to typing.
“Come on now, you know Sara and I wouldn’t forget. James is looking forward to the party too. Don’t get all grumpy on us and ruin it.”
“All right. All right.” Steven held up his hands. “I wish you had planned a surprise party though, so I could be spared this constant bother from your whole family By the way, the over-the-hill e-card from your kids was a real highlight of my day.”
Clint laughed.
Steven shook his head as he pulled up the dancing Kentucky blue teddy bears in tutus. “I should have hit Delete and not even acknowledged it.”
“Yeah, well, you always were a softie, weren’t you?”
“Whatever.” Steven pulled another file from his top drawer and added it to his completed case notes stack. “Don’t forget, I beat your stellar record today. On the range and on the track.”
“Old men live in their pasts, partner.”
Steven turned to face him. “Want to try again tomorrow?”
Clint chuckled. “No way am I going to rain on your parade. Sara and the kids are joining me to do some hunting for all things black tomorrow. Just the ticket to throw your mammoth birthday shindig on the twenty-third.”
“You’ve got some nerve. I’d have expected a respectful lull in the smack talk. You just wait ’til I tell Sara about our times today.”
Steven and Sara would make Clint’s old bones creak all the louder with their joshing. He could take it, though, given that Sara’s eyes still lit on fire when he stepped out of the shower.
“Hey, before I forget: When are you going to call Gracie and invite her to the party?”
Steven grimaced. “I’m not. The thing with Angela at the park last Saturday cooled Gracie’s interest.”
Clint’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”
“She didn’t want to hear my explanation and suggested we keep our focus on James.” Steven leaned back in his chair. “Decoded, that means ‘Get lost, buster.’ I’m not begging for another chance.”
The faraway look in Stevens eyes told a different story “You just can’t get her out of your mind, can you? Been there, done that, got the ring to prove it.”
Steven shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Not if she’s crossed me off her list.”
Nodding his head toward the picture of Sara, Steven, and himself taken a decade ago at their graduation ceremony, Clint exhaled long and slow. Sara had beamed between him and Steven, but Angela hadn’t been interested in joining the celebration. Clint had tried to get her to warm up to them. She never did. That still stung Steven even now.
More so, since Angela had arrived on the scene again. If Clint didn’t step in and do something fast, Gracie would disappear under the weight of Angela’s memory.
“Don’t give up, partner. You know Sara’s first reaction to me.” Dr. Sara O’Toole’s daunting green eyes and fiery red hair had made even the pain of a broken wrist disappear.
“Wait. Let me see if I recall that story.” Steven cleared his throat.
Michael Parker joined them. Clint wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Here’s how it went—you immediately impressed Doctor Sara with your brave handling of that old sports injury, and she fell madly and totally in love at first sight. Right?” Steven laughed at his own parody.
They both knew full well that was not how it happened. Clint had pursued Sara for months after their first meeting in the Anderson ER. Phone calls, cards, and flowers. She finally gave in and went out on a date.
The rest and two kids was a sweet success story One Steven needed too.
“My point, wise guy is that you should ask Gracie out again. For your birthday party Don’t let that spark I see in your eyes go out so easily.” Clint leaned against Steven’s desk. “Gracie’s a keeper. Just like Sara.”
Michael folded his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again?”
Clint affected his worst Irish brogue. “You might just find yer big ol’ pot o’ gold.”
Steven and Michael both rolled their eyes. “Right.”
Michael went back to his desk.
“You gonna call?”
“Yes, Clint. If it’ll get you off my back.”
“I’m just covering your six and your thick skull. My job, you know.”
“Thought that was God’s.”
Clint grinned. The God-talk about Angela three weeks ago must be working, at least a little bit. “Hey, make the call soon, or I’ll invite Gracie myself.”
He settled back at his desk and checked for updates on the Browns’ phone record warrant he’d filed for yesterday Something good had to give in this case and in his partner’s personal life. Soon.
Clint put his money on God and Gracie. Between the two of them, at least Steven’s hardness toward God was toast.
24
Steven’s phone buzzed.
“Kessler.” He maneuvered off I-395 toward Pentagon City for the short trek to Russell Road.
“Got a line into SIS,” Michael said. “A chatty Cathy by the name of Thomason remembers both Harry and Gordon Landridge. He also elaborated on what Sir Peter was reluctant to share.”
“You mean they’re being cooperative now?”
“That and staying away from any further videoconferences.” Michael chuckled. “Thomason said the tip that reopened the arms case consisted of cell phone transcripts from Harry’s last conversation with Gordon.”
“Tell me you’re already working that cell number.”
“As we speak, boss.”
“Still nothing from the surveillance at the Brown home?”
“No. It’s been a week. Charlotte will check on her son soon. You wait and see.”
Steven hoped so. Charlotte or Gordon had to slip soon, or this case could drag for eons. All he needed was one bite, one physical lead, and he could reel in this investigation and hand it off to the Assistant US Attorney for prosecution. “You talked to Sir Walter yet about the Landridge family?”
“No. Thought you’d want to take that one.”
Steven pulled into Hope Ridge Academy’s parking lot. “More like no one else wants to two-step with the angry ambassador.”
“You got that right.”
Michael was a straight shooter. Steven liked that. He didn’t like that he’d get stuck going one more round with Sir Walter. But now they had a blueprint. Unpack and prove the motive. Bring in the bad guys.
Not a slam dunk, but possible. Finally, a ray of hope in this case. “Thanks, Michael. I’ll tangle with Sir Walter soon.”
The sunny afternoon skies made him smile as he scribbled a few notes before heading in to pick up James and see Gracie. She’d agreed, with some reservation, to attend his birthday party next week.
Maybe turning thirty-six wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Hello, Stevie.” Angela appeared suddenly at his door. “I have an early birthday present for you.” She stood by his Explorer in her two thousand-dollar power suit.
On second thought, with birthday presents from Angela, turning thirty-six with his sanity or heart intact might not happen. Steven clenched his jaw. “What?”
“Court-ordered temporary visitation rights.” She extended an official-looking document through his open window with her perfect French-manicured nails. “Read it and weep.”
He took the papers and read through them. He s
hould have known Gracie’s “yes” and his upcoming birthday party wouldn’t hold a candle to the facts of his life. Things like dead children and custody battles. Those made up his reality.
His nightmare.
“So now you’ll have to introduce me properly to my son.” Angela motioned to the front office doors of Hope Ridge. “We’ll start with placing me in his file and working out a schedule for me to pick him up from school.”
“Why don’t you and Mr. Cue Ball lawyer go have a few drinks to celebrate instead? I’m not letting you be alone with my son. Not until a court says I have to.”
“They have.”
Steven stepped out of his SUV and shoved the papers back into Angela’s hands. “No. This says you have the right to see James, not unchaperoned visitation. Big difference.”
She stiffened. Her stupid heels made her taller, so she almost met him eye to eye. “Marcus will be with us. He’d like to get to know his stepson too. And he’ll make a great father. Unlike you.”
Steven closed his eyes and tried to remember that Angela had a heart buried somewhere inside. His neglect of his wife and not sharing the hell of chasing drug lords and doing hostage rescues with the Hostage Rescue Team at Quantico had hurt Angela so badly she wanted revenge. Revenge intended to draw blood.
His.
And his son’s.
At least that was Clint’s take on the situation. And his partner thought facing lies and extending forgiveness would solve everything and wrap it up with a neat little bow. No way.
Black suits and uniformed children passed in a blur beyond Steven’s SUV. The occasional mother in a tennis outfit flitted near them. Many of the suits were his colleagues. Not the place for a scene.
“I’m sorry I did so much wrong in our marriage. I wish I could change that. But I can’t.” He stepped closer and felt her retreat even though her feet stayed still. “Don’t punish James to get back at me.”
“This is not about you, Steven. The world does not revolve around you and your playing Superman.” Her voice softened. “I just want to know my son.”
He searched her dark brown eyes. The eyes he’d fallen for and had never recovered from. He knew then how right Clint had been, and a new emotion vied for first place against the guilt raging in his gut.
Sorrow.
Gracie’s second week of school drew to a close with a tired smile.
It’d been a good Friday. Her students were settling into a routine, and they’d even managed to remain calm on the craziest day of the week.
“Mrs. Lang?” Akemi tugged on her coral sundress. “Will you play pick-up sticks with James and me, please?”
Gracie knelt down and hugged Akemi. In just under two weeks, the shy little girl had started to invite people into her play. It was a joy to watch. Even more of a joy to be included. No matter how many candles on her birthday cake, being welcomed into a group made Gracie feel wanted. Special.
She settled into a child-sized chair with the last two students waiting for their parents. James dumped the multicolored sticks onto the center table. Akemi went first and managed to untangle three sticks before making one move.
James tried for the hardest stick first. Some things had to be genetic. Gracie smiled as the little boy dislodged two difficult red sticks from the pile.
She just touched a yellow stick when a knock on the door made her jump and spoil her turn. “Oh, well.” Ruffling James’s hair, she stood. “Your turn, Akemi. I’ll try again in a minute.”
Gracie opened the door and fought the urge to slam it closed. Instead, she plastered on a welcoming smile. “Hello, Steven. Angela.”
“Hey, Gracie.” Steven’s smile looked plastic. Like a large part of the raven-haired model standing next to him. “I know the two of you have met already. But I needed to let you know, Angela is being added to James’s file, and she may be picking him up from school in the near future.”
Steven’s ex stepped closer to him. “So. You’re my son’s teacher. How quaint.”
“Angela.” Steven’s voice came out as a low growl.
Gracie felt dizzy with all the electricity exploding around her. “I’ll gather your son’s things and let him know you’re here.” She shut the door and took a few deep breaths. “James, it’s time to go.”
“Can I finish our game?” His pleading blue eyes held no hint of the way his world was about to be turned inside out.
She felt like a traitor, but no amount of protective instincts could shield James now. “Maybe on Monday. For today, it’s time to go home.”
Akemi waited with her hands in her lap and smiled at James.
Gracie extended her hand and walked with him to the door. As they stepped into the hall, he moved back against her leg. “Hey dad.” He looked into Angela’s face. “Why are you here?”
Tension and Angela’s thinly veiled temper sucked all the oxygen from Gracie’s personal space. She returned James’s tightened grip on her hand.
Steven knelt down and opened his arms, keeping his eyes fastened on Gracie.
James stepped into his father’s embrace. “I want to finish my game with Mrs. Lang.”
“This probably isn’t the best time or place, but this …” Steven motioned to Angela. “This is your mother, James.”
The little boy’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Angela knelt also, snuggled into Steven’s side, and opened her arms. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you. Can I give you a hug?”
At least she’d asked, unlike other plastic people who demanded their due attention from teacher and child alike. Gracie wanted to escape the scene unfolding before her—Angela’s strong musk perfume, her perfect proportions, especially the intimate space she occupied with Steven, talking to their son.
Who would never be Gracie’s son.
“ … we’re going to take, Angela, I mean, your mom, out to dinner tonight.” Steven stood and settled James in his arms, his ex-wife right in time with every movement.
“Can Mrs. Lang come?” James’s sad eyes locked on to hers. “I really want her to come too.”
Gracie’s mouth felt like cotton, and her face burned with the fiery darts shooting from Angela Carter’s eyes. God, a little help here would be good. No words came.
Steven cleared his throat. “I’m sure Gracie will join us another time.”
She nodded. “I’ll see you on Monday, James.” She turned to Angela. “Nice to see you again.” Turning toward the door, she entered her classroom and quickly shut out the perfect little family scene in the hall.
She wanted nothing more than to run home and collapse into Mark’s arms. But that wouldn’t happen. Ever again.
How in the world would she survive the mammoth ache growing in her heart?
25
A week hadn’t touched the knot of fear in her stomach.
Gracie and her doggie shadow had managed an early morning run, a few loads of laundry, and cleaning the bathrooms that weren’t in need of cleaning. Usual Saturday chores. But everything else was so far from normal.
In a few hours she’d have to face Steven again. Alone.
She checked the clock above the spotless white sink and sighed. Spotless had never described her kitchen when two sets of pint-sized hands and feet kept things looking lived-in. When tiny handprints and mud tracked in from a full day of summer play She’d take that look any day.
Leaning back onto her white Corian countertops, she debated calling Beth or Leah. Beth would put on her cheerleader voice and try to psyche Gracie up for an evening of romance with Steven. A place she wanted to avoid.
She called Leah instead.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Gracie opened one honey oak cabinet after another, gathering ingredients.
“Hello to you too.” Leah laughed into the phone. “All butterflies and smiles about your big birthday party date tonight?”
“More like I want to avoid the whole thing.”
To keep her mind occupied and her hands busy
Gracie bustled around the kitchen with the phone tucked between her shoulder and cheek, working on a peach cobbler. A gift for the Rollins family Southern hospitality still reigned, even if she lived near Washington DC.
“Don’t you dare. I think you need to decode what’s going on with Angela and Steven and go from there.” Leah said. “Then give him the thoughtful gift you agonized over and let his gorgeous smile warm your toes.”
Gracie groaned. Thinking about Steven’s smile and searching blue eyes didn’t help her rumbling insides. “What if he’s still in love with his ex-wife? She’s like a dark-headed Barbie doll with a law degree. I can’t compete with that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I feel like I do.” Gracie chopped soft, fuzzy peaches. Their smell settled her nerves a little, reminding her of Mom and home and all things sweet and safe. “I mean, it seems like I’m being swept into a relationship that’s more like a tornado than the enjoyable companionship I’d hoped for.”
“No man, not even a handsome FBI agent, will ever come close to what you had with Mark. You two were college sweethearts. You filled a room with honey just looking at each other.”
Gracie’s chest constricted and her eyes watered. “Leah, don’t.”
“You know I love you, but you need to hear this. God doesn’t have you there anymore. And you can’t compare now with then. Or yourself with another woman.” Her best friend’s words were soft and painful.
“Care to explain God again? Why He took my family and left me with this confusing mess? James is a joy and reminds me of my son. Steven has a pull that’s … that’s …” She struggled to find the right words. “Irresistible. Deep melancholy and electric at the same time. But I can’t … I don’t know what to do.”
Leah’s background noises changed from Saturday morning cartoons to her backyard full of bird sounds. “I don’t have an answer for the whys. It’d be pat and bad theology to say God allowed your family to die so you could step into Steven’s family and help them. God is far too complex for human reasoning like that.” Leah’s voice dropped lower “It’s what you’re thinking though, isn’t it? You’re trying to figure it all out and line it up logically.”