“It’s too soon to be waiting tables. Can’t you chop lettuce or something?”
Doretta curled up her nose. “Yuck.” She pushed open the screen door.
“Teagan knows where I live?”
“She goes by here all the time. Knew right away when I said it was the bright blue house in the twelve-hundred block.” Doretta let the door swing shut.
“You know very well I feel special living inside this house,” Florene called.
When Doretta entered the back door of Sonya’s Steak House, she saw the permanent frown on her boss’s broad face grow deeper. Sonya was a strong rugged woman from years spent pulling lumber at a mill in the Cascades. She escaped that and bought the easy job of feeding the public. She lived in a state of constant crabbiness, knew it, and didn’t care if anyone else cared.
Doretta liked her. She hung her jacket on a hook inside the employee’s cubbyhole. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I should fire you.”
“Sure you should, but I’m a great waitress.”
“Don’t mean crap.”
“My friend was killed in her apartment last night, and I helped care for her baby.”
Sonya’s square jaw dropped. “That counts, what happened?”
“The cops don’t know, and I can’t imagine who. . . .” Doretta’s eyes misted.
Sonya patted Doretta’s arm. “I’ll cover for you if you want to leave.”
Her boss’s offer came so unexpected Doretta wasn’t sure if she heard right. “I’m good for a few hours.” She tied her white apron over her black uniform.
Sonya raised her brows. “Did you shorten your hem again?”
“Every inch up is more tips in my pocket.” Doretta sashayed through the swinging doors into the dining area decorated with wine-colored upholstery and knotty-pine walls. Mr. and Mrs. Walach sat at their usual dimly-lit table. He winked at Doretta.
“Mrs. Walach, your devil of a husband just gave me a wink with an attitude.”
The round woman leaned nearer to Doretta. “Worry only if it’s a double one.”
Doretta’s throaty laughter died when a sleek guy dressed in chinos and a herringbone sweater entered the lobby and stared at her. Her hackles rose at what his self-satisfied grin implied.
“Leave now.” Her harsh whisper echoed when she brushed by him and into the kitchen.
Doretta stopped beside the counter where her boss tallied receipts. “Reggie is in the lobby, and I don’t want to see him,” she hissed.
Sonya peeked through the swinging door. “He’s been here every night asking about you.”
“Get rid of him.”
“He’s pretty sexy with that gold chain and diamond stud.”
“Zirconia, and he’s as fakey as his stone. A rotten no-good womanizer. Shit and double shit, how did I let him sweet talk his way into my bed?” Confronting him appeared unavoidable. Doretta sucked in her tummy and tried to control her anger. She marched out of the kitchen and straight at him. “When I tell someone to get lost, they stay lost. I’ll have you arrested for stalking.”
“And I’ll have you arrested for being too dammed beautiful. Tell me, does my boy look like me or you?”
“You don’t have a boy.”
“He’s mine, Doretta.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
Reggie sighed. “How come I’m letting you talk mean, when there’s a blonde babe waiting outside in the big Mercedes? She’s probably a lot friendlier than you.”
Doretta shook her head. “Only you would know that.” Her words dripped poison, but she couldn’t resist checking to see who he was talking about. She pulled the door open and saw a black Mercedes, the woman inside a shadowy figure.
Doretta felt Reggie behind her and spun. “Keep your distance.” His laughter drove her to the phone on the desk and she punched 911.
Reggie shot her that same irksome grin and pushed through the door.
“Sorry,” she said into the receiver. “There’s no emergency now.” She replaced the phone in its cradle and checked outside.
Reggie was gone.
So was the woman.
Erica caught her breath when the entrance door of Sonya’s Steak House opened and Doretta peered out at the Mercedes. For an instant, the safety of her disguise meant nothing. Now was not the time to be spotted. But the surveillance paid off. Doretta was back at work and Levi would be with a sitter. Who? Maybe he’s in that silly blue house, she thought, and dropped the gearshift into drive.
The stupid nurse will fight for her grandson.
“No problem.”
Not much frightened Erica and the nurse posed no threat at all. What did cause spears of terror was Derek alone needing a playmate.
The steakhouse vanished in the rearview mirror.
Black endless clouds closed off any light from the moon or stars. Headlights, street lamps, and homes provided the only shadowy illumination. Through undraped windows, Erica watched families, stole a peek at their happiness, and suffered in her desperate need to see. Repressing the emptiness in her womb only made it worse. Derek’s fluttering movements had been a promise. A dead one. Her left forearm enclosed her flat abdomen in reproach. Never again would it swell with such a promise.
In one picture window, Erica saw a father playing horsey-back with a small boy, and a shudder stiffened her neck muscles. She pulled the tresses of the wig forward, blocking all peripheral vision and concentrated on the wet pavement ahead.
Erica punched off the headlights, and the alley behind Florene’s house plunged into blackness. Her eyes adjusted and she made out a spot wide enough to park by the back gate. Leaving the engine idling quietly, she slipped toward the rear door. The spike heels of her pumps sunk into mud and released with loud sucking sounds. She froze in mid-step and listened. A car door shut. It sounded like it came from the front of the house.
She kicked free of the shoes. Cold mud squished into her hose. Cursing inwardly for not having her boots, she dashed for the street.
Taillights disappeared around a corner.
That can’t be Doretta.
“I know that, Iska. Don’t you cat-laugh!”
Erica peered through a partially curtained window. No one. A rose bush prevented a good view. She sidestepped in the dark. A sharp pain hit her toes. She tripped, grabbed the window ledge, and caught herself before touching the horrid blue siding. Wincing in pain, she kicked a coiled water hose out of the way.
Inside, Florene relaxed in an overstuffed chair, watching television.
No baby. Erica scanned every angle.
Where is Levi?
Erica slipped away in the dark.
Don’t leave Mother’s shoes.
In the dark, she searched for the black shoes, finally found them and stole through the back gate, knowing that Levi must soon travel to where Derek played in a field empty except for himself. She drove the lonely streets to Doretta’s apartment by reflex, the way memorized while making plans. Wide tires parted puddles that splashed in rooster tails behind the Mercedes. The headlights illuminated a brown paper bag crumpled by the curb. It was soppy wet. Were the kittens inside? The pitiful furry little creatures? Erica again felt the tiny bones.
Chapter 20
In the safety of a cloud-hung night, Erica studied the dark windows of Doretta’s third-floor apartment, same as a cat stalks a bird, intense, motionless and sharp-eyed. “The bitch can’t even stay home with her baby?” She stepped from the side of the Mercedes and caught her bare toes on the curb. More pain shot through her sore foot. “Damn, stupid garden hose.” Frustration throbbed in her temples. Why was she so messed up? Couldn’t even think straight.
“Iska, what’s wrong with me?” she groaned. “How could I forget my boots?”
She swore fluently when Iska purred, your mother’s clothes.
Her tabby was right! Mother never had a thought that made sense her whole miserable life. Erica yanked the honey-blonde wig from her head and slung it into the Mercedes. T
he wet hose stripped from her legs with a sucking sound. She tied one of the muddy nylons around her ribs beneath the jacket. She wedged the handgun next to her skin and straightened the long white gloves on her forearms. They glared even in the dark. She shoved them back down to her wrists. How could Mother wear such hideous things? They’d burn in the fireplace just as soon as her fingerprints didn’t matter − that would be when the boys were united.
Indecision evaporated into the blessed darkness, a perfect night for an ambush.
An iron staircase to Doretta’s apartment angled up the north side of the house. Erica stole upwards. The mesh steps sharply indented the soles of her feet, and the stairs rattled in a few places despite her stealth. At the top, she peered into a dark window – no sign of anyone. She picked the lock and stepped inside. Sweetness of vanilla candles tickled her nose and she fought the sneeze away. Her watery eyes adjusted to the gloom. A couch and chair to the right, several doors to the left.
Paper rustled. “Who dat?”
Erica’s hand found her 9-mm. She stood ready.
A rush of wings. Claws gripped her shoulder. She brushed at them. A squawk. A rush of wings. Erica flipped on a light switch, saw a white cockatiel hanging on a curtain rod, and switched the light off.
It set off screeching, “Damn you,” and swearing blue words that were shameful. Doretta wasn’t such a nice person after all. Erica’s heart calmed, she crossed to the window and searched for an angle to view the street. None. The only signal of Doretta’s arrival would be the rattle of metal stairs and who could hear that with the bird acting like a nut.
Erica cased each of the four rooms. The noise raked against raw nerves. She scrounged for meat in the refrigerator and found only a package of bologna. Who ate this stuff? Her nose curled. She threw a piece at the cockatiel. He snatched it out of the air, gave her a beady glare, ate it and settled down on the curtain rod.
In the baby’s room, Erica retrieved a leftover shopping bag from under a pile of clothes and stuffed it with tiny shirts, newborn-sized diapers, bibs and receiving blankets. The size of a pair of teensy socks surprised her. Laughing, she added them along with a couple of toys. The teddy bear like Derek’s rested in a rocker. She placed it carefully on top of the other things. Not long now and the boys and their things would all be together, sharing and laughing and playing. Maybe then, the hammer blows echoing in the night would end.
Metal rattled as someone hurried up the stairs. Quickly, Erica slipped into a closet, leaving the door cracked. A key turned in the outside lock. A squeak. Lights flicked on in the living room. She strained to hear movement.
“Hello, bird.”
Male voice? She hadn’t anticipated a boyfriend. I should’ve, she thought, and steeled her nerves before stepping from the closet and into the living room.
“Who are you?” Erica demanded.
The man jumped. “Beautiful lady, you scared me shitless.” He patted his chest near his heart. “But since I live here now and then, you’d better introduce yourself. I’m Reggie.”
“Get out, now.”
His eyes ran over Erica’s body. They stopped at her feet. “Why are you all mucky?”
“Ever heard of mud baths?”
Reggie grinned wolfishly. “You soak in it?”
If he wanted to play dirty, she’d show him dirty. “It’s chilly in here.” Shivering, she crossed her arms and squeezed them together. The jacket lapels gapped, baring a good portion of her.
His eyes devoured her chest and his grin widened. “We ought to get acquainted.”
She smoothed the jacket back into place and in a low throaty tone said, “I’m Doretta’s friend now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You see two beds?” She stepped near him. “If you don’t leave, I’ll phone Doretta. You can hear what she has to say, and from what she’s already said about you, it won’t be to your liking.” Mentally, Erica willed him to go. Only the babies had to travel to the peaceful place. She considered pulling her gun and forcing him out, but he’d call 911 as soon as she shut the door.
He locked stares with Erica. “I don’t believe it.”
She read the coward inside of him. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Doretta. You probably wanna hear how we . . . .” She licked her lips again, slower, with more tongue.
Reggie shuddered and stepped back.
Erica hissed.
He fled through the door.
She hugged herself and chuckled at the clanking footfalls shaking the metal stairs. He was just a typical undeveloped male, all show and no guts at all.
The bastard would fly if he could.
“Iska, I played naughty, but it got rid of him.”
Iska had already departed and Erica’s lonesome laughter went unheard, same as her tears over the lost chance to train a supreme leader went unshared. So many other times, she laughed or cried alone, preferring it that way. She looked at the bird. “Where are the bitch and her brat?” The question nibbled at her mind and she lifted the phone from its hook.
Teagan answered.
Using a sweet southern drawl, Erica asked, “May I speak with Doretta, please?”
“Caller ID says you’re calling from her phone. Who are you?”
“A classmate. She told me if I arrived early to let myself in and call her at this number.”
“I’m expecting her soon. May I take a message?”
“Tell her I’ll be at her place.” Erica dropped the receiver into its cradle before Teagan could respond and hurried down the jingling steps.
Chapter 21
Puzzled, Teagan hung up the phone. Doretta never said a word about a visit from an old friend. Nothing made sense. Hadn’t since Pai died.
The boys, swaddled in receiving blankets, lay on a quilt in the middle of her living room floor, nursing pacifiers, oblivious to everything, enjoying their own world. Levi squirmed, pushed his arm free of the blanket, and spit out the pacifier. Teagan reached down and tickled his chin. “You sound just like a piggy-wiggly.” Gathering him up from the blanket, she carried him into the kitchen, ran hot water over a bottle of Doretta’s breast milk and dribbled a few drops onto her wrist. “Perfection, Master Levi.”
He slurped at the milk as she wandered back into the living room to the beautiful oak rocker Mac bought after learning about the pregnancy. The graceful chair had been sitting on the windy pier beside some crates of fish. He called from the hull of his undulating trawler, “Best, to rock your baby slow and steady. Good for the digestion.” He belched and disappeared before she could thank him.
She yelled after him, “I will rock him my way!” Would he ever think she could do anything without him explaining how to? She carried the rocker to her pickup and kept it dusted and polished with loving care.
Rocking Levi at the speed of mild surf, she absent-mindedly moved him to her shoulder, when he spit out the bottle. She recalled how Mac had tried to talk her out of the fish business. They were standing on the dock by the hull of his trawler. The wind pushed against the water and them. She had been fourteen and confident about a dream of helping the small independent fishermen have a market that paid a fair price for their catches.
Mac leaned into the air currents, “Girl,” he had said. “Takes a lot of sacrifice to build a market and earn a living from it.”
The wind whipped her hair and she pulled the strands from her eyes. “I want to have a place to sell your catch. It isn’t fair big companies are forcing everyone to sell to them. Spencer and Eddy lost their boats because of it. And now I hear cruise ships are taking over the moorage.”
His eyes lit. “That’s exactly how I want you to deal with unfair. Instead of whining, do something. Seems you’ve learned that. Me and the mates aren’t going anywhere, so earn yourself a business degree, come back and open that shop. We’ll sell to ya.”
The clock on the mantel chimed at the half hour. Surprised, Teagan glanced at the time
and muttered to Levi, “Your mother better hurry up.” She carried the full little body to the window to search the well-lit parking area for Doretta’s Toyota. She cupped her free hand around her eyes to deaden the reflection in the glass and scanned downward into the night for anything out of the ordinary. Dry leaves, caught in rough places on the carports, appeared like black holes in the shingles. Beyond them, rusty orange warning cones forbade entrance to the carports. Of all times for the manager to decide to resurface the asphalt behind the carport this was the worst. She had been forced to leave the pickup in the visitors’ lot across the street, lug Charlie, Levi and Jimmy all the way around the gooey blacktop and come up the sidewalk. Together, they weighed a ton. She never should have agreed to pick up Levi at his grandmothers. How did Doretta manage to talk her into it?
“Well Levi, your sweet-talking mother can just darn well haul in the baby carriers and diaper bags. She deserves severe punishment.” Teagan flashed back to the clinic and remembered chiding Pai for arriving late. Sadness welled. Her eyes smarted as she searched for Doretta’s Toyota among the cars parked along the lot’s perimeter. A Mercedes in the back corner caught her eye. “Levi, see the fancy car. Kinda looks like Erica’s.” Teagan shook her head. “Can’t be.”
The doorbell rang.
“How could I miss seeing your mother?”
Still holding Levi, Teagan squinted through the peephole and recognized Detective Lute. “Oh, God, not again,” she whispered and opened the door.
“May I come in?” Lute slouched with his weight leaning comfortably on his right leg.
“Is Doretta all right?” Teagan held her breath.
“As far as I know. Why?”
“Because she’s late, and it’s flippin’ scary to see you through the peephole.”
Lute’s eyes dropped to Levi. “Watching her son?”
Teagan stood firmly in the doorway. “Should I worry about why you’re here?”
“I promised to update you on the investigation.”
“You could’ve called.”
Maternal Harbor Page 15