Every Time I Think of You

by Tracey Garvis Graves

  “Jack Quick?” I asked.

  He didn’t stop walking. “Yeah?”

  I matched his stride and caught up to him. “Brooks McClain,” I said. “Desert News. Do you have a minute?”

  “Nope,” he said and walked out the front door of the police station, not bothering to hold it open for me.

  Thanks, asshole.

  I was a senior reporter for the Chronicle and hadn’t been treated this badly in a long time. I had so many contacts in San Francisco that I no longer cooled my heels on hard benches; I picked up the phone and made a call. So Jack Quick had either had a bad relationship with my predecessor, was a dick in general, or was tired and in no mood to talk to the new guy.

  I returned to the bench and hit Send on my story, then rubbed my eyes and yawned as I walked out to my Jeep.

  It had been a long day and all I wanted to do was go home, even if I wasn’t sure at that moment where home actually was.

  CHAPTER 7

  DAISY

  Shane carried Elliott into the house and deposited him in the spare bedroom bed. I had nothing but the clothes on my back¸ so Pam fussed over me, pulling a T-shirt and sweatpants out of her dresser.

  As I walked toward the bathroom to change, she said, “Let me make you something to eat. Or some tea.”

  “I’m too tired,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”

  Pam had set out a fresh towel and a brand new toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic. I washed my face and brushed my teeth.

  She was waiting for me in the hallway when I came out. “I don’t have my first client until eleven. I’ll make a big breakfast in the morning. Maybe you can eat something then.”

  “I will. I promise.” I hugged her, feeling her baby bump press against my stomach. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Of course, Daisy. Shane and I will help you with whatever you need.”

  I slipped into bed next to Elliott and fell asleep seconds after my head hit the pillow.

  My respite was short-lived. I slept fitfully and each time I woke up it took me a minute to figure out where I was and what had happened. The events of the evening would eventually come rushing back, and disoriented, I would remember that my grandmother was gone. I’d lie there, calmed by Elliott’s soft breathing, until I fell back to sleep. Then the cycle would start again.

  The digital clock on the nightstand read 6:03 a.m., which was when I quit trying to fall back asleep and instead started making a mental list: call work, make funeral arrangements, daycare for Elliott, new apartment. Overwhelmed by the thought of everything I had to do, I got up and walked into the kitchen.

  Shane was already up and sitting at the table drinking coffee. “Hey, Daze.” He rose and poured me a cup.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He offered me a sympathetic smile as I sipped my coffee and tried to clear the cobwebs from my brain.

  By now, the thought of my grandmother’s death had left me numb, or maybe I was all cried out. I’d started to compartmentalize things because I had other problems to solve. Making sure Elliott and I were in a safe place was at the top of the list.

  It was almost as if Shane had read my mind because he said, “You can’t stay in that apartment.”

  “I know.” I’d never feel safe there, not until they found the person responsible for my grandmother’s death. How could I return to my normal life, never knowing if someone would show up on our doorstep again? How could I be sure I was keeping Elliott safe?

  “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” Shane said. “You know that, right?”

  Pam and Shane’s home had three bedrooms. They used one of the bedrooms as an office, and Pam had big plans for turning the bedroom Elliott and I had slept in into a nursery. She was almost six months along and eager to start preparing for the baby’s arrival. They’d ordered furniture, and Pam had sounded so excited when she’d called me two days ago to tell me the crib and dresser had shipped and would be delivered next week. They’d picked out the room color and Shane was supposed to paint the walls this weekend. There was no way I’d stand in the way of their plans, no matter how much they protested.

  “Thanks, Shane.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to call around today and see if I can find another apartment. We’ll stay until I can sign a new lease, but hopefully that won’t take more than a few days. If you know of anyone who would be willing to help us move on short notice, I’ll gladly pay them.”

  “We’ll get it handled,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  When Pam woke up, she cooked the big breakfast she’d promised, and the four of us were gathered around the small kitchen table by eight. I fixed Elliott a plate and poured him a small glass of juice. He hadn’t let go of his army man, not even in his sleep or when he went to the bathroom after he woke up. I didn’t dare ask him to put it down.

  “I want to go home and see Nana,” he said.

  Stricken, I looked at Pam. She looked equally unsure about how to handle the situation. Ordinarily when faced with a child-rearing issue I was unfamiliar with, I’d reach for one of my parenting books or go online to find a solution, like when Elliott suddenly became afraid of the dark and I had to buy a special nightlight. Though I’d known my grandmother wouldn’t live forever, I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation so soon, and I’d done nothing to prepare for it.

  I pulled Elliott onto my lap and improvised. “Nana won’t be at home, sweetie. She isn’t going to live with us anymore.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Her body stopped working the way it’s supposed to and she died.”

  “She didn’t say good-bye,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “She didn’t kiss me.”

  I wiped the tears that ran down his face, wishing I could let my own flow freely but knowing it would only make the situation worse. “There isn’t always time for that,” I said, my voice catching.

  I’d already decided that Elliott was too young to attend the funeral, but maybe I could find a way to give him some sort of closure. “If you draw Nana a picture, I promise to make sure she gets it.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  I set him back in his chair and he picked up his fork and began eating his scrambled eggs, sniffing occasionally.

  Drinking two large cups of coffee on an empty stomach had made it churn. At Pam’s urging, I ate enough to settle it, nibbling on a piece of dry toast and eating most of my eggs. Physically I felt better, but my grief simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over at any minute. I pushed it aside because the number of things I had to take care of seemed staggering, and there was no one but me to handle them.

  At nine o’clock, Detective Quick called. “You can return to your apartment any time after noon. The cleaning crew is there now, but they should be done in the next hour or so.”

  I left the room so Elliott wouldn’t hear my side of the conversation. “Is it safe to go home?”

  “It’s doubtful that whoever did this is anywhere near the scene now, but do you have someone who can accompany you?”

  “Yes.” Shane had the day off and had assured me it would be no trouble to drive us home so I could pack a suitcase with enough clothing and personal items to get us through the next several days.

  “Don’t hesitate to give me a call if you think of anything I should know,” Jack said.

  “I won’t.”

  Next I called Jenny Nicholl, my supervisor at the hospital. Today was Thursday and I wasn’t on the schedule because I normally worked three twelve-hour shifts per week, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’d need at least a week off in order to complete everything on my list. I rarely called in sick or asked for time away from work, and I had plenty of vacation hours saved up if I needed them.

  “I saw it in the newspaper this morning, Daisy,” Jenny said when she answered my call. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Jenny.”

  “The story didn’t say much. Do the pol
ice have any idea who did this?”

  “Not yet.” I struggled to keep it together because I really didn’t have time to break down. “I need some time off. Elliott and I are going to have to move. We can’t stay in that apartment. I also have to make funeral arrangements and find someone to watch Elliott while I’m at work.”

  “You take all the time you need. And I’ll ask around. See if anyone knows of a good daycare.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “You take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Next I called the funeral home. I’d never made arrangements before, but I was sure they’d have someone to walk me through it.

  The funeral director I spoke with told me that my grandmother’s body hadn’t been released yet. “As soon as we receive it I can give you a call. It may be a day or two.”

  Of course. I’d forgotten to allow time for the autopsy to be completed. “Thank you. I’ll wait until I hear back from you.”

  Feeling like I was spinning my wheels, I opened the browser on my phone and looked up the phone numbers for the apartment complexes I deemed appropriate for a single mother to consider. I had no interest in living in a building that catered to a bunch of loud-partying twentysomethings or one that was known for drug deals of any kind. That didn’t leave me with much.

  I narrowed down the list to three family-friendly options. The first two I called were full—and I worried I might have to expand my criteria—but the third building had a two-bedroom apartment available for immediate rental. It was a hundred and fifty more per month than I wanted to pay, but I couldn’t put a price on our safety. I made an appointment to stop by and see the apartment that afternoon.

  Elliott was in the living room with Pam. He was sitting on the floor putting together a wooden puzzle when I got off the phone.

  “I called work and also made an appointment to see an apartment this afternoon. I can’t do anything about planning the funeral until probably tomorrow, at the earliest.” I sighed. “I feel so overwhelmed.”

  “I can only imagine,” Pam said, sitting down on the couch beside me. “It’ll be okay. I know it’s a lot to deal with. We’ll help you get through it.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Shane.”

  “You’d do the same for us.”

  “Of course I would,” I said. “Are you heading to work soon?”

  Pam owned her own business, a hair salon located near the town square.

  “In about a half hour. Shane said he was going to take you to your apartment.”

  “Yes. I’ll grab enough to get us through the next few days.”

  Pam glanced at Elliott and lowered her voice. “Do you think Scott had something to do with this? Maybe he got himself into trouble again.”

  Her question didn’t surprise me. If there was one person familiar with my marital history and its problems, it was Pam.

  “I don’t know, but he was the first person I mentioned down at the police station. He was the only person, actually. But if Scott is involved, why would he do it? For what gain? He of all people should know that my grandmother didn’t have anything worth stealing.”

  “But if it wasn’t a robbery, then what was it?” Pam asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’m scared that whatever it was, it was supposed to involve me.”

  *

  Shane drove us to the apartment. One end of the crime-scene tape had come loose from the side of the building, and it fluttered in the wind. The place that had been my sanctuary not long ago was now tainted, and I was filled with a sense of foreboding.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Shane said. “Whoever did this is long gone by now.”

  On a rational level, I agreed with him. And besides, it would be hard not to feel safe with Shane by my side. He was six feet tall and built like a linebacker. I’d grab our things and we could be in and out quickly.

  “Mama?”

  I turned around to see what Elliott wanted. “What is it, honey?”

  “I don’t wanna go in. The bad man might be there.”

  Shane glanced at me and turned off the radio so we could hear Elliott better. I kept my voice even. “What bad man, Elliott?”

  “The one who said mean things to Nana. He telled her to shut up!” Elliott started to cry.

  I opened my door and slid into the backseat, placing my arms around his trembling shoulders. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

  “Mama,” he said, running his fingers over the surface of his army man. “I want to stay in the car. Pwease.”

  “Of course,” I said, stroking his head. “You don’t have to go in there.”

  “Let me go in and make sure everything’s okay,” Shane said. “Then I’ll come back out and sit in the car with Elliott.”

  Elliott nodded. “I stay with Shane.”

  “Yes, you can stay with Shane.”

  I handed my key ring to Shane and he got out of the car. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  I unbuckled Elliott’s seatbelt and cuddled him, stroking his hair. He clung to me, but soon he calmed down, and I wiped his tears and kissed his forehead.

  “Have you ever heard that man’s voice before, Elliott?”

  “No.” He avoided eye contact and continued rubbing his fingers back and forth over his army man.

  It had only been an occasional toy before, and I couldn’t even remember where it had come from, but it appeared to have been elevated in status. Part comfort item and part talisman, it certainly worked well to calm him down.

  Shane returned a few minutes later and handed me my keys. “Go on in. I’ll stay here with the little guy.” He turned toward Elliott. “Can I get a high five?”

  Elliott smacked Shane’s palm.

  “You wanna rock out to some tunes while we wait for your mom?”

  “Okay.”

  “How about Led Zeppelin?”

  “I don’t know ’bout Wed Zeppwin,” Elliott said.

  “Then it’s high time I taught you.” Shane hit a button on the stereo, and as the first notes of “Rock and Roll” filled the car I made myself open the door. “You’ll be fine,” Shane said. “They did a good job. Lock the door once you’re inside, and then get what you need.” He pointed at his cell phone in the cup holder. “Call me if you have trouble.”

  “Thanks, Shane.”

  The apartment looked just like it had when I left for work on Wednesday morning. The toys were picked up and my grandmother’s knitting basket sat on the floor next to the couch. She always woke up early on the days I worked, and she’d tell me what activities she had planned for Elliott while we drank coffee at the kitchen table. When I walked back in the door after work around seven forty-five, Elliott would be bathed and fed and ready for me to read him a book before bed. The routine that I counted on, that I appreciated more than my grandmother had probably known, was about to change, which only added to my worry.

  I walked into the bedroom I’d shared with Elliott and pulled down our suitcases from a shelf in the closet. The silent apartment felt eerie to me, and there was a sterile smell I couldn’t place. Maybe it was the absence of the scented candles my grandmother liked to burn or maybe it was the cleaning supplies that had been used. Packing quickly, I zipped the suitcases and carried them down the hall.

  In the living room, the carpeting had obviously been scrubbed because there was an area near the coffee table that was lighter than the rest. When my brain processed the reason for it, my stomach rebelled and it took everything I had to keep my breakfast down. I thought about what my grandmother had endured and how scared she must have been. It wasn’t fair. Anger replaced some of the helplessness I felt at the injustice of it all, and I swore I wouldn’t rest until the case was solved. My grandmother deserved at least that much.

  I picked up the suitcases and locked the door behind me.

  When I got back to the parking lot, Shane’s SUV was rocking slightly as he and Elliott enjoyed their little dance party.


  “You’re going to make a fantastic father, Shane,” I said when I opened the passenger-side door.

  “Thanks. You know I’m always happy to help out with Elliott. He needs a man’s influence. Not that you’re not doing a great job on your own,” he said quickly, “because you are. There are just some things that you shouldn’t have to teach him.” He smiled to soften the point he was trying to make. “Like girls, and rock and roll.”

  His words might have stung if I hadn’t completely agreed with him. My grandmother had been both mother and father to me, and she’d done a wonderful job, but after I married Scott I’d been so happy that Elliott would grow up in a household with both parents. Yet here we were, right back in the same situation I’d grown up in, one person taking on the role of two.

  “Thanks. I’ll leave the musical influencing up to you. Just watch the volume and steer him away from rap, okay? Too many bad words.”

  “Deal,” he said.

  Shane drove across the parking lot to where I’d left my car the night before. I transferred Elliott’s car seat from his car to mine while Shane loaded our suitcases into the trunk.

  Then I buckled Elliott in, slid behind the wheel, and followed Shane home.

  CHAPTER 8

  DAISY

  I called Detective Quick as soon as we got back to Pam and Shane’s after digging his card out of my wallet. When he answered, I identified myself.

  “You said to call if I thought of anything,” I said.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “What is it?”

  “It might be nothing, but when we went to the apartment to pick up some of our things, my son became quite upset and said he didn’t want to go in with me. He said he was afraid the ‘bad man’ might be there. Does that help at all? I asked him if he recognized the voice but he said no.”