“Meaning what?” Rage boiled in Teagan’s chest.
“Easy, Ms. O’Riley.” Lute stepped between them. “CPS will take good care of the baby. Meanwhile let’s sit down. I have more questions, and maybe I can answer some of yours.”
Teagan obeyed only because there was no other choice.
A rumpled, weary woman rapped on the open door and stepped through. “I was called to secure an infant.”
Hal shoved Jimmy into her arms.
One of Jimmy’s tiny arms worked free from his receiving blanket, and he waved it, sobbing frantically.
“Just leave,” Lute said to the woman. “I’ll call Linda in the morning.”
The woman quickly walked away.
Jimmy’s wails carried back through the door, growing dimmer.
Teagan bolted; instantly Charlie squalled in fear.
Doretta grabbed Teagan’s arm. “Give me Charlie and calm down.”
After placing her baby carefully into Doretta’s arms, Teagan spun to the detectives. She wanted to beat at them, but she held back, knowing she’d never reclaim Jimmy if she couldn’t control herself. “How do I get him back?” she cried.
Lute met her eyes for a quiet moment. “Ms. O’Riley, I’m going to call a woman I know at CPS. She’ll work with you in the morning, and maybe she can help with a temporary custody order.”
“What time?” Teagan demanded.
Halstead flipped open a notebook. “Did you know the victim’s family?”
“Put the notebook away,” Lute said. “That’s enough for tonight. They can give their statements downtown tomorrow.”
“What time?” Teagan demanded again.
At the door, he gave Teagan a long authoritative look and added, “You will be at the Public Safety Building by ten o’clock.”
Teagan closed the door behind him. She punched the key on the doorknob, twisted the deadbolt, and rattled the chain into place. She ran to the window. Palms on the glass, she searched for the social worker carrying Jimmy. A set of taillights bounced across the speed bump. They turned right and disappeared. She leaned her forehead against the cool of the glass, feeling utterly helpless. It was the worse feeling she ever experienced. Her share of tussles happened on the piers and on board the fishing trawler. She’d always managed to stick up for herself. This was totally different. Nothing she could’ve said or done would’ve changed a thing.
“I can’t believe they took Jimmy,” Doretta cried from where she sagged against the wall. Charlie tucked tight in her arms.
Struggling to find a handle on her desperate inadequacy, Teagan yelled, “Damn my temper. I just made everything worse.”
“I don’t think so. You’re just fighting mad from helplessness, and Detective Lute knew that. But the other cop is a heartless bastard. Insinuating we killed Pai for Jimmy! That’s so sick I can’t believe it.”
A bad taste, leftover from the scene Lute just witnessed, soured in his gut. He ran the stairs to the ground floor and pushed outside.
Hal leaned against the fender of Lute’s car, smoking a cigarette. “Could you believe the way those two broads acted?”
Lute stopped on the curb and gazed upwards, searching for a star that might show through the low hanging overcast. “Hal,” he muttered. “It was pretty rough on them to learn about their friend, and have you cart the baby from the nursery like that.”
“We couldn’t leave the kid and you know it. They might be involved with the murder somehow.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Basic rule number one.” Hal held up his thumb. “Everyone is suspect.”
Lute swiveled and searched the dark sky to the north. “Ms. O’Riley seems like a nice gal who just wants to help.”
Hal snorted. “She has a hell of a temper.”
“Doesn’t mean she committed a crime. She’s right the baby should be where he’s loved and not in the system.”
“He’s too tiny to know.”
“Maybe not.”
Chapter 15
Bryan stretched his legs and the soles of his feet pushed up against the arm of the couch. The resistance felt good. He pushed again. The muscles in his legs tightened. He felt strong.
Early light steeped the room in shades of heather. Outside the cabin, wind whipped the forest. Pine cones pelted the metal roof. Thunder rumbled, trees groaned, and the plinking of cones came faster. A smattering of raindrops hit the steel roof, increasing, tinging like marbles spilled on metal.
He tossed back the covers, opened the front door, and stepped out onto the covered porch. The storm looked meaner than it sounded. Yesterday’s rain was only the forerunner of today’s assault. Late September in the Rockies should be brilliant with Indian summer. His spirit weakened, disappointed really. The hike into Quartz Lake and walking the shoreline where he and Teagan spent hours lallygagging would have to wait. Frustrated he went back inside, stoked the coals in the stove and added wood.
Soon the favorite smells of burning birch and boiling coffee filled the cabin. Returning to Grandfather’s chair, Bryan waited for the coffee grounds to settle, waited to drink caffeine. He lazily glanced at the walnut bookcase. More Poe? His eyes found several sagging shelves. Fix them? He spotted spider webs. Scrub the place? Nothing appealed to his now lethargic state.
He studied the graniteware pot, trying to figure the instant the last bitter ground would seep to the bottom. The wood in the firebox snapped. Cinders hit the inside of the stovepipe. He switched on the radio and twisted the knob. Searching for news, he heard only static. Bryan laughed. Instead of peace and serenity, the high country was a pounding rain storm and buzzing radio; and recapturing the memory of Teagan’s red hair stirring in a gentle wind outlined against a sky-blue lake gone into gray, damp dreariness.
The hot coffee tasted rich and his spirits rose enough to know spending the day in Grandfather’s chair would not alleviate concern over TJ showing up at Fiona’s. He should’ve gone right into town, instead of yielding to her order to stay put and give an old lady some peace. Well, her life is going to liven up today, he thought. They would spend the afternoon playing gin rummy like they had years ago on rainy days.
A couple of hours later, Bryan parked beside his grandmother’s cozy house. Fiona opened the door as he sprinted through the downpour. Mitzi wiggled against his leg the instant he stepped inside.
He stroked the happy poodle and she jumped into his arms. Over her head, he grinned at his grandmother. “You wanna beat me in gin?”
Fiona walked back into the kitchen. “I haven’t time to play cards.”
Bryan followed her, realizing this was the first time she denied him something or didn’t seem overjoyed at his presence. She crossed directly to the counter where a large baron of beef sat on a roasting rack, scooped her fingers into a bowl of pungent spices and rubbed them into the raw meat.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “That’s a big chunk of red meat.” He almost sounded like Cherylee.
“Got company.” Her answer sounded short, close to exasperation.
“You have a gentleman friend coming for dinner?” He tried not to sound too surprised.
Fiona set the bowl of spices on the cupboard. “My friend is upstairs.”
Bryan’s jaw dropped. Did he feel embarrassed?
“Don’t look so shocked. TJ’s in your room.”
“You invited that kid into this house?” Then her statement really registered, and Bryan bolted for the stairs. Running up them two at a time, he burst through the bedroom door.
The room was just like he’d left it, except the window gaped open. He stared out through the rain and saw no sign of TJ fleeing, only two gouges in the wet lawn where he jumped from the roof. Bryan closed the window and locked it.
A quick inventory of his closet revealed his missing letterman’s jacket, but that was all as far as Bryan could tell after so long. With nothing more to check, he clamored back downstairs.
Fiona sat in her place, fingers interlocked
, hands resting in front of her on the table, acting like nothing unusual just happened.
“Company’s gone,” he said and pulled out his chair. He leaned back in it and pretended he didn’t care either. When she continued to silently appraise him, he was at a loss for words. Her faded eyes seemed strained with something he couldn’t understand.
“Better tell me why TJ was here,” Bryan said softly.
“After I called you, I couldn’t get his lost look out of my mind. I’ve been too tired to become involved with anything or anybody.” She lifted her chin a little. “And I’m sick of feeling exhausted and worthless. So I went searching for him.”
“I think it’s more than tired. What’s wrong?”
“A slow kind of cancer that saps everything.”
Bryan always wondered how he would react when his grandmother’s mortality faced him. In this moment of her confiding, he knew he could handle it calmly for her sake. She wouldn’t want pity. Later, he’d rail at the unfairness, spill his grief on a mountain top.
“How long?” he asked humbly, thankful for the strength given by Fiona. She met his every boyhood crisis with a sharp wit and salty tongue. She’d meet death the same way, and he intended to help her.
“The Good Lord allows what He allows.” The tilt of her chin told him she didn’t feel sorry for herself, only disgusted at her weakness.
“Let’s take the roast to the cabin and cook it slow in the wood stove,” he said.
“What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
Her fast change of subject told Bryan that her dignity remained intact, and she was helping him maintain his. “I haven’t been able to think about it. I know I’m tired of juggling teachers, students, and school boards.” He purposely omitted that whatever he did, he had to learn if it included Teagan.
Fiona’s eyes brightened. “Let’s buy ice cream.”
“You can tell me about TJ on the way.” Bryan knew she wouldn’t have much to relay. What information could she have?
Fiona adjusted her glasses. “He’s still in his teens.”
“I guessed nineteen or twenty.”
“That’s a poor guess for someone who works in schools. I asked for his ID and according to the date on his driver’s license, he just turned seventeen.”
“What does the TJ stand for?”
“Terence Jonathan Cavalier, a real desperado.”
“Cavalier?” Bryan thought for a moment. “I’ve heard that name lately. It escapes me where. Guess it doesn’t matter, but something else does – he stole some of my clothes.”
“He was very touched when I handed them to him.” Fiona sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. TJ is a stranger in an alien land. It’s too bad he ran again, would’ve done you good to learn why he ran in the first place.”
“I just gave him a ride, and don’t plan on feeling guilty about it.” The questioning depth in her eyes made more guilt grow in Bryan, and he had no intention of allowing the feeling to stay.
She sat quietly. At first, Bryan figured she was letting him stew in his own juices, but it seemed different. Her silence was harder than when she talked about the cancer. Facing a distant death was one thing, but losing her to pain – he could think of nothing worse.
To break the unbearable silence, he asked, “Are you in pain?”
“Some, but talking about it doesn’t help. Bet you can’t guess how I found TJ yesterday.”
“You looked in a rabbit hole?”
Fiona chuckled. “Figured if I was hiding, I’d want a dry place to do it. Found him on a bench in the mall’s food court.”
“You figure he’s heading for Canada now?”
“He wouldn’t be hitchhiking. Too easy to spot. If it was me, I’d go to that big truck stop on West Idaho and watch for a trucker with Canadian plates.”
“I’ll go pack the meat,” he finally said. “You pack plenty of clothes and bring your medications.”
“If you’re not bringing me back, that U-haul worries me. Better, put your stuff in the garage and take your time. I need a nap before we leave.” She scuffled from the room, the spring in her step replaced by forced movement.
Bryan vowed to keep her at the cabin as long as possible – give her the place she loved, like she shared it with him so long ago. He’d bring her pine cones to smell and pure spring water to quench her thirst.
After putting the roast in a plastic bag, he washed a few dishes and moseyed outside to the U-haul. Unloading was a chore he didn’t relish – seemed a halt to his flight from obligation.
The side door of the single-car garage stuck, and he pushed with his shoulder to break it loose. Light filtered through a dirty window. He shoved aside some dusty boxes from a corner. He searched for a broom among the handles leaning against the far wall: shovels of varying shapes, two hoes, a pick, and finally, an old corn broom. A familiar box caught his eye. Could it be? He opened it and smiled.
Inside the box was the cedar wreath Teagan made Fiona the Christmas before leaving on the salmon trawler. The dusty scent clearly smelled of Seattle’s cedar trees. Teagan had begged him to drive to the mountains to gather cedar. She pestered to go higher into the snow-topped Cascades until the road turned to slush. They parked on a wide spot and climbed, sinking ankle deep in fresh snow.
Feeling like the worst of thieves, he snipped short fragrant boughs from the mature limbs of virgin cedars. The limbs snapped back into place, and unless you knew where the cut was, the trimming was invisible; same as he couldn’t catch sight of where their love severed, yet cuts in their relationship happened. She had written faithfully. And he answered. But he caved in to loneliness and settled for Cherylee. Guilt stopped him from answering Teagan’s phone calls, claiming she chose the separation. It was his excuse for embracing the available instead of dealing with the widening chasm between them. She left physically, but he left emotionally. Could the hurt between them ever heal? He slipped the lid back over the wreath, leaving it inside the dust-coated box.
Bryan piled the last of his stuff into the corner, locked the U-haul to the Jeep’s hitch, and shot a couple of hoops with the old basketball he found under a tarp. He contemplated a swing in the rope-dangling tire, but more than likely, Fiona waited on him.
Upstairs, her suitcase sat by the bedroom door; she perched on the edge of the bed with Mitzi beside her. “Just taking a look at the room where I lived my sleep time.” Her watery eyes stayed focused on a picture of wild daisies in a mountain meadow. She cleared her throat. “Oh quit with the long face. I’m just being maudlin.”
Bryan hated it, but knew her peace of mind was worth any price. “Okay, Grandma, here’s what we’ll do. After we return the U-haul, we’ll try to find TJ and do what we can.”
Her face brightened. “I need to do one last bit for mankind.” Chin high she walked through the doorway with Mitzi in her arms.
Several eighteen wheelers rumbled in the diesel island at the Exxon station. One driver pumped fuel and two more talked beside the cab of a Safeway freighter.
Bryan hadn’t really expected to find TJ that easy.
Fiona waved from the Jeep. Her motion clearly saying, get your bums inside.
TJ loitered near the back, munching a candy bar. He turned as Bryan approached. His face blanched and his eyes darted for an escape route.
“My grandmother wants me to help you,” Bryan said.
“Why?”
“Beats me, we’re on our way to a cabin in the mountains. There’s room for you, but it’s your call.”
TJ stood mute.
“You have a better offer?” Bryan asked.
Chapter 16
The three-story, concrete and steel structure of the West Precinct dominated the Denny Triangle neighborhood. It was one of Seattle’s latest major expenditure of taxpayer’s dollars – twenty-seven million of them. Erica stood under one of the tender maples, lining the street in front of it and wiped a film of sweat from her forehead. The wood-trimmed roof across the f
ront was stupid three years ago and just as stupid today. Trees and wood might look aesthetic, but why soften the look of a cop shop? Anyone needing to go inside was either in trouble or making trouble. Why beatify that?
Erica placed her hat back on her bristled hair and entered a building humming with energy. A cluster of officers silently appraised her approach. They returned to comparing stories after she passed. Several snickers followed her, but she chose to ignore them – this time.
“Sarge,” called a rookie, sitting at a computer terminal, face flushed and uniform damp at the pits and down the back. “I need help with this report.”
Erica used a chunk of her limited time to explain how to key information from his notepad into places deemed acceptable by the Brass. Time pressed, but she stuck with him and made sure he understood. She would not be bugged again.
Ignoring his gratitude, she crossed to an open computer terminal and tapped a key to cancel the screen saver. She blocked the room’s hubbub by single-minded concentration and typed in Teagan O’Riley. The search engine pulled up a driver’s license from the state bureau. The six-digit number popped onto the screen. Next, she entered the number into outstanding warrants, hoping for at least a few parking tickets. She searched for anything that would nullify Teagan as temporary custodian and make certain Jimmy was placed in a foster home. Then armed with forged transfer papers, she’d take the boy.
She scrolled screen after screen with sharp jabs of the enter key. “Come on, come on,” she whispered through clenched teeth. There must be something besides Teagan’s single status. Years ago, CPS would’ve considered that stigma enough – not anymore. No traffic violations or accidents turned up either. Not a blemish against the slut. Erica closed her eyes and searched her memory for any word Teagan uttered about her life. Nothing came except the inane conversations among the four of them as they waited at the clinic.
“Back on duty already?” Captain Schroeder asked behind her.
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