Monday, November 27, 5:20 p.m.
Mia opened her eyes when Solliday stopped the SUV. They sat in front of a convenience store. "Why are we here?" Mia asked stiffly. Every square inch of her body ached like she'd been put through a meat grinder. But worse yet would be having to tell Abe that the bastard who'd shot him was still on the streets.
He lifted a brow. "I had three cups of coffee waiting for your pal."
Mia winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would take that long." They'd sat for two hours when DuPree finally showed up with his arm in a sling. Still they'd waited for Getts, the shooter, until she'd spotted DuPree sneaking out the back door. He'd taken off at a run and she'd had no choice but to take him down. Even with his arm in a sling, he'd been a fighter. "You should have interviewed the girls at the sorority house."
"What, and miss the fun?" he said dryly. "Watching you take down a drugged out SOB twice your size was worth the price of admission, even if you didn't catch Getts."
"Slimy little sonofabitch," she snarled softly. "He must have made us."
"You'll get Getts. And you can sleep tonight knowing his pal's in a six-by-eight."
He looked positive and sincere. In fact, he looked damn impressed. Maybe she'd been given a second chance to make a first impression. "Thanks for driving through that back alley and cutting DuPree off. At least I can give my partner that tonight. Let's get to the sorority so you can get home."
He got out of the SUV. "Later. The second reason we're here is that I'm starving and you need something in your gut so you can take some more medicine for that pain. It's a wonder you didn't dislocate your shoulder. What do you take on your hot dog?"
"Anything except ketchup. Thanks, Solliday."
All day she'd walked beside Reed Solliday, feeling small. Now she could watch him as he walked through the store. He moved with a fluid grace unusual for a man his size. And watching Solliday move, she thought of Guy. The comparison had been inevitable, she supposed. It had been a while since she'd thought of Guy LeCroix, which was telling in itself, but now she remembered with stunning clarity.
Guy had moved just like that. It's what had attracted her from the beginning, that panther grace in a big man. He'd thought he loved her, but ultimately, wanted far more than she could give. She didn't really miss him, which was also telling. But she hadn't wanted to hurt him either. She hoped he'd found what he was looking for with his new wife, that he was happy. Since Guy the well had been relatively dry. She'd seen a few men here and there. Mostly there. Nobody serious.
Thinking objectively in the quiet of her mind, she could admit none were better looking than Reed Solliday, even though he did look like Satan when he did the eyebrow thing. Although that little goatee of his did frame a nice mouth.
Mia imagined a mouth that nice would prove an asset in certain areas. As would that panther grace.
Mrs. Solliday must be a very content woman. For a split second, Mia felt a twinge of wistful envy for Mrs. Solliday, whoever she was. But quickly she squelched it. She didn't do cops. It was her life's mantra. But he's not a cop. "He's close enough," she murmured aloud. Still, a girl could watch. Reed Solliday was a very watchable man.
He was at the counter now, paying for their food. The clerk frowned, then dumped a handful of change into the sack Solliday held open. Shaking his head Solliday opened his door, and corralling her wayward thoughts, Mia took the food from his hands.
"My biggest fear is that Beth will bring home a guy like that and I'll have to pretend to like him," he grumbled, settling into his seat. From the sack he pulled a handful of packets. "The condiment pumps were empty. You'll have to make do with these."
"I'm sure I've had worse. Come to think of it, I have worse every time Abe picks the place we eat. He's into that vegetarian crap. Thank you." Mia ripped open one of the mustard packets while Solliday opened the center console between the seats. Nestled among a half dozen cassette tapes was a mason jar half-filled with change. Solliday poured the change from the sack into the jar and closed the console lid.
Mia blinked at him. "Wow. You've got to have ten bucks in change in that thing."
"Probably." He took one of the hot dogs and proceeded to eat it plain.
Appalled, she gaped. "No toppings? Not even mustard?"
He looked at the hot dog with distaste, hesitating. Then he shrugged. "I have trouble manipulating small items."
The jar of change now made sense. "Like pennies and nickels?"
He took a bite and made a resigned face. "Yep."
"And mustard packets?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Give me your damn hot dog, Solliday. I'll put on the mustard."
He handed it over. "Relish, too?"
She shook her head. "Relish, too. Why didn't you just ask?"
He shrugged again. "Pride, I guess."
"Given your assessment of me this morning, I should think it would be shame," she shot back and he laughed. He had a nice laugh, deep and rich, and his smile changed his face from Satan to… well, wow. For a moment she stared. Wow. Then with a hard blink she dropped her eyes to the carton in her lap. Mrs. Solliday was a very lucky lady.
"Touche, Mitchell. Although for the record, as of this afternoon I'm duly impressed with your capability. I haven't seen a move like that since high school."
She handed him his food. "Let me guess. Linebacker?"
"Tight end. But that was a long time ago."
They ate in silence, then Mia folded her wrapper. "So what happened?"
He eyed her over the last bite of his hot dog. "None of your business."
She laughed. "Touche, Solliday. Give me your trash, I'll throw it away." When she climbed back in the cab, he was pocketing his cell phone. "Emergency?"
"No. I just needed to call home."
Mia sighed. "I'm sorry again. You have a family to get home to."
"My hours are as flexible as yours. I have somebody to take care of Beth when I have to work at night. Take something for your shoulder."
So there was no Mrs. Solliday. The sudden thump of her heart was merely interest, Mia told herself, not relief. She popped a few pain relievers, wondering what had happened to his wife, but stopped herself from asking. "So where are we going now?"
"Greek Row."
It would be a while before they got there. "Can I look at your notes again?"
He handed her his notebook. "So what nice thing did you do for Carmichael?"
"Somebody close to her was murdered last year. Abe and I were primary. She was pretty hysterical and I stayed with her until she'd gotten through the worst of it. It was no more than I'd do for any victim's family."
"Obviously more than she expected."
"I guess. Anyway, I've become her personal news source. Every time I turn around that girl is there. But she gave me DuPree. If I get Getts, she'll be on my Christmas list forever." She scanned his notes. "Was the bed made in the spare bedroom?"
He looked surprised. "Yes, why?"
"When I was in school, I studied at the kitchen table. I don't think I would have used somebody else's bedroom, for sure. What was Caitlin doing studying up there?"
"Maybe she got sleepy."
"That's why I asked about the bed. But she could have slept on the couch. Sleeping in somebody else's bed, especially when you've expressly been told not to live in… That's just…" She searched for the word. "Cheeky."
His lips twitched. "Cheeky?"
She shook her head with a smile. "Don't laugh at my adjectives. It's like she was playing Goldilocks, studying and sleeping where she wasn't invited."
"There was a desk in the bedroom. With a computer."
"Ah. We should have it taken in. Check for e-mails and web surfing."
"1 talked to Ben when you were processing DuPree. He said Unger took the computer this afternoon. They'll try to check for e-mails, et cetera, before morning."
"Okay. So walk with me. Caitlin's studying or surfing the web or something. She hears something, comes downstairs and he's there. They struggle in the foyer. Maybe he rapes her. At some point he shoots her. But he doesn't burn her to utterly destroy her. Unless he thought she'd be burnt to ash and he's just a novice. Are we dealing with a novice?"
"I don't know. He had the solid accelerant device down just right. But I've been thinking about the sheer spectacle of the explosion__He went to a lot of trouble to be noticed.
That seems immature, almost childish. But his method was sophisticated. I'd be surprised if he hasn't done it before." He hesitated. "Or if he doesn't do it again."
"Are we talking serial arsonist?"
"It's crossed my mind," he admitted. "His MO was so well planned. So grandiose. I can see him thinking it would be a shame to only use it once."
"Shit. So all we really have is a dead girl and some pieces of a plastic egg."
"And a shoe print. Ben says the lab said it's a size ten, by the way."
"Which makes him no different than thousands of guys in Chicago," she grumbled. "So unless we find something new or he strikes again, we're dead in the water."
"Unless we're wrong and somebody went to the Doughertys' with the express intention of killing Caitlin. Then her sorority sisters may be some help."
"One can only hope," she muttered.
Monday, November 27, 6:00 p.m.
"Oh my God." Judy Walters rocked herself on the edge of her bed.
Mitchell was crouching next to Caitlin's roommate, looking up into her face. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But I need you to pull yourself together, Judy. I have some questions and you have to help me. Stop crying now."
Her gentle tone softened the implacable demand and had the girl struggling to control her tears. "I'm sorry. Who would shoot her? Who would do that?"
Mitchell sat on the bed next to Judy. "When was the last time you saw Caitlin?"
"Saturday… about seven at night. We had a party and it got loud. I thought she was going to Joel's apartment for the weekend." She looked stricken. "Oh, God. I have to tell him." She tried to get up, but Mitchell laid her hand on her knee.
"Not yet. Caitlin's father said she'd broken up with Joel."
"She just told them she did so they'd get off her back. Her dad didn't like Joel."
"Why not?" Reed asked and was surprised to see the girl's wet eyes flash in anger.
"Because her dad's a control freak cop. He was always telling Caitlin what to do."
Something flickered in Mitchell's eyes, but was quickly controlled. Her dad had been a cop. Reed wondered how much she and Caitlin had in common. "Did she spend the weekend with Joel very often?" Reed asked.
"Yes. But there's no way Joel did this. He loves her."
"Judy, do you remember what Caitlin was wearing that night?"
"Jeans, a sweater. It was red." She started crying. "I gave it to her."
Mitchell patted her shoulder. "We'll see ourselves out." When they'd reached the SUV she spoke. "Did you find any metal rivets or snaps from her jeans near the body?"
Reed opened the door on her side. "Ben said they found metal buttons in the foyer."
She climbed into the cab. then turned, her eyes grim. "Then he raped her, too."
"What next?" he asked.
"Let's go find out how much Joel loved her."
Monday, November 27, 6:40 P.M.
Joel Rebinowitz's roommate was pre-law and proud. Zach Thornton stood between Mia and Solliday and the bathroom door, through which came the sounds of Joel's sobbing. "He's not going to say another word to you without a lawyer," Zach snarled.
Mia sighed. "God save us from baby attorneys. Look, kid, move yourself out of the way, or I'll haul your ass in for obstruction."
"You can't do that," he said belligerently.
"Wanna bet?" Zach's belligerence faltered. "I didn't think so." She rapped on the door. "Joel, come out. We need to talk to you and we're not leaving until we do."
"Go away, dammit." Joel's voice was ragged. "Leave me alone."
Mia looked at Solliday. "You want to go in after him?"
Solliday grimaced. "Not really. But I will."
Thornton changed tactics, his expression gone drastically sincere. "You just told him his girlfriend is dead. Burned beyond recognition. What do you want from him?"
"The truth," Mia responded. "Joel, five seconds or my partner comes in after you."
Joel staggered out of the bath room, his face pale and his eyes swollen from crying. "I'm not talking to you and I'm not going downtown with you."
Zach nodded, back to smug. "You want him, get a warrant."
"Joel, help us clear you so we can focus on the real bad guys."
"The real killer," Zach jeered. "Right."
Mia lifted on her toes, putting herself inches from Thornton's face. "Shut. Up. Or I swear to God you will spend the night in a cell. I am not bluffing. I have had enough of you. Sit down and shut up or you'll find yourself surrounded by bullies named Bubba who want to be your best buddy, if you know what 1 mean."
Solliday whistled softly. "It isn't often they get pretty boys tossed into their cage."
Mia swallowed a smirk as Zach sat down on his bed without another word. She turned to Joel, soberly. "Joel, help me find who did this. When did you last see her?"
"Saturday night. Seven o'clock or so. She said there was a party at TriEpsilon that night but she needed to study. I told her to stay here, but she said if she did we'd… well, she wouldn't study. She didn't want to give her father the pleasure of seeing her fail." He closed his eyes. "This is all my fault.'
"Why do you say that, Joel?" Solliday asked.
"She partied with me too much. I should have backed off like her father said."
Either this kid was innocent or he was a damn fine actor. Mia was pretty sure it was the first one. "Did you hear from her at any time that night?"
"She IM"d me at eleven. She said she loved me," he ended in a ragged whisper.
Mia glanced over at Solliday, saw they were in agreement over this kid. "Where were you all evening, Joel?"
"Here until eleven. I IM'd her back, then met some friends at the arcade." He rattled off six names and she had little doubt they'd corroborate his story.
Mia hated to press him at this point, but it was necessary. "Did anybody else want to hurt her? Anybody following her? Anybody making her uncomfortable?"
He sagged against the wall, dropping his chin to his chest. "No. No. No."
"One more question, Joel," Solliday said. "When you didn't hear from Caitlin all day yesterday or today, weren't you worried?"
His head snapped up, fury in his eyes. "Of course I was. But I thought she'd gone home. I couldn't call her at her parents' house. She'd told them we were through. I figured she'd call when she could. When I didn't see her in class this morning I asked around. Nobody had seen her. I called her parents, frantic. Left two messages on their answering machine. But they'd rather see me in jail than tell me that she was dead," he finished bitterly. "God damn them."
Under the circumstances, Mia could see his point of view.
Back at Solliday's SUV she shook her head. "If I ever have kids, I'm not going to interfere."
Solliday opened her door for her, as he'd been doing all day. "Never say never. I can understand both sides. Father wants the best for his daughter. Daughter wants to run her own life. I don't think Joel's involved."
"Neither do I. I think our guy chose the Doughertys' house. Either he stalked her there, or he happened on her and took advantage of the opportunity."
"And Burnette could still be the real target." He closed her door, then came around to his side. The engine was roaring to life when she heard his deep chuckle. "'Bully named Bubba who wants to be your best buddy." It's poetic. Can I use it?"
She smiled at him, oddly at peace for the moment- "Be my guest."
It was quiet during the drive back to the precinct, both using the time to check their voicemail. He stopped the SUV next to her car. "Wow," he said. "Nice."
Mia looked at her little rebuilt Alfa Romeo fondly. "It's my one splurge." Then she slid down to the ground, turning to look at him. "Barrington made Caitlin's ID official."
"And the lab found an instant message in the cache of the Doughertys' computer. Time corresponds with Joel's story."
"Then we make some progress. How about meeting at eight tomorrow in Spinnelli's office? He has this thing for eight o'clock meetings."
"I'll see if I can get the lab report on the samples I took before then," he said, "and I'll meet you at your desk. The Doughertys left me a voicemail saying they were getting into O'Hare at midnight. We can talk to them after we're done updating Spinnelli."
"I'll ask Jack to come to the meeting tomorrow, too. He can tell us what he found when he analyzed the carpet. At least we'll be able to better picture where things occurred." She was quiet for a minute, then sighed. "I was seeing my partner go down."
It took him a second. "You mean this morning when you were staring in the window? What happened that night?"
"We wanted these guys for a homicide in South Side. Getts and DuPree. It was a drug thing that got out of hand and they killed two women caught in the crossfire." She sighed. "Anyway, we got a tip they were hiding out in an apartment, but they weren't."
"It was a setup."
"Looks that way. But I saw them. And they shot Abe."
"And you, too," he said and her lips curved sadly.
"Just a scratch. While I was gone Spinnelli reassigned the case."
"To the two guys he sent this afternoon. They stood back while you took DuPree."
She smiled at the disbelief she heard in his voice. "It was… a gift, actually. They let me have the collar. They knew how much it meant to me."
"I guess I understand that. Look, I'm sorry about this morning. It's just that the jacket and the hat made you look… unsavory."
"Unsavory?" she asked with a grin.
"Don't laugh at my adjectives," he said, his voice light.
"Okay." She sobered. "My good jacket had a rip where the bullet hit my arm and it was nasty with blood." Mostly Abe's blood. "I have to get another paycheck before I can afford a new coat." Her smile was self-mocking. "Spent all my cash on the car."
One brow lifted. "What about the hat?"
"Sorry, the hat stays 'cause it's comfy. Just hope it doesn't rain. See you."
She'd started to swing the door closed when he stopped its path. His eyes held sympathy, but they also held respect. "I'm sorry about your partner, Mitchell. And your father." He leaned back, settling himself behind the wheel once again. "Eight o'clock."
She closed his door and got into her own car, feeling calm and keyed up all at the same time. She started the engine, cursing the cold air the heater spit out at full blast. She still had to see Abe. What she'd say when she got there was anybody's guess.
Monday, November 27, 6:40 p.m.
"This was fun." Brooke had nursed that one beer for an hour and a half.
"Told you it would do you good," Devin said smugly.
Brooke's heart fluttered, but she was determined the beer would not make her lose her good sense. Devin had laughed and joked, but no more with her than with the other teachers they'd met at the bar. Brooke was surprised just how many teachers gathered for happy hour. Evidently she wasn't the only one stressed over the job.
"When do they all go home?"
He looked surprised. "It's Monday night. We stay and watch the game."
"The game."
"Monday Night Football. The game. Please tell me you're joking."
"Nope. My family didn't do sports."
Devin slid down in his chair, getting comfortable. "So what did you do for fun?"
"Scrabble. Risk. Trivial Pursuit."
His lips twitched. "And I thought I was a nerd."
I don't think so. The thought left her light-headed and she mentally scrambled for words to untie her tongue. "The librarian says you're using your math powers for evil."
He threw back his head and laughed. "She's just mad because I keep winning the pool." He lifted a brow. "You should join the pool. I could make you a fortune."
His laugh made her warm all over. "A fortune, huh?"
He shrugged. "Well, at least you'd only lose five bucks."
She sighed. "Five bucks is a fortune."
He looked philosophical. "Nobody gets rich being a teacher. You knew this, right?"
"That I knew."
"But other stuff you didn't?"
"I had dreams of helping kids learn to love books. It's not working out that way."
"Manny and the fire really has you worried, doesn't it?"
"I hate the thought that I could be pushing him to do something terrible."
Devin sighed. "Brooke. You can't make anybody do what they don't want to do. All of these boys have issues. For Manny, it's fire. For Mike, it's stealing."
"What about Jeff?" she asked glumly and he rolled his eyes.
"Nobody understands Jeff. I've been trying to get through to that kid for months. There's something cruel in him. Unfortunately, he's one of the brightest kids I've met."
Brooke blinked. "Jeff?"
"Yeah. Kid's a math whiz. If he weren't in juvie, he'd be getting scholarships."
Something inside Brooke rallied. "His record will be sealed when he's eighteen. None of this should affect his chances for getting into a good school."
"Doesn't matter. That kid'll be arrested within a month of getting out of Hope."
Brooke felt her temper flare. "How can you say that? How can you give up on him?"
Devin signaled the waitress for another beer, then looked back at her, regret in his eyes. "I didn't give up on him. He's the one giving up on himself. I'd give my eyeteeth to change it, but I've seen it too many times. So will yon "
"I don't want to become jaded like…" She brought her temper to heel.
"Like me? Good. But be careful, Brooke. These boys are dangerous." He lifted his eyes to the television mounted over the bar. "Looks like they're calling for snow."
It was an abrupt topic change, but effective. Brooke gathered her purse and coat. "I'm sorry, Devin. I was out of line."
He looked sad. "No, you're right. I am jaded. Unfortunately you have to be or they get to you. I find myself torn between wanting to save them and wanting to lock them all up forever. Sometimes they scare the hell out of me." He eyed her coat. "You're not staying for the game?"
She was starving, but Christmas shopping had taken a big bite out of her budget. No eating out until January. "Nope. Gotta get home and prepare tomorrow's lesson."
To her surprise he came to his feet and helped her with her coat. "It's dark outside and the neighborhood's not the best. I'll walk you to your car."
Monday, November 27, 7:45 P.M.
Reed grunted at the sudden sharp elbow in his gut. He glared down at his sister who glared up with equal fervor. He dropped the plate back in the sink. 'That hurt."
"It was meant to. Sit down before I really get mean." Lauren gave him a mock glare. "We have an agreement. You don't keep up your end very well. Sit down, Reed."
Reed sat. "You pay the rent on time and take care of Beth. That's enough."
"The deal was cheap rent for babysitting and cleaning. Shut up, Reed."
The cheap rent on the other side of Reed's duplex allowed Lauren to work part-time while she took classes at the university. Her flexible schedule meant Reed never had to worry about who was watching Beth when he had to work. In his mind, it was more than a win-win. Still, Lauren had her pride. "Did Beth ask you to take her shopping?"
Lauren laughed. "She did. Big man like you afraid of a few racks of clothes?"
"You see racks of clothes. I see monsters with price tags for fangs. So will you?"
"Of course. If you want, I'll even pick up a few things you can put under the tree."
Christmas. "I've never waited so long to do my shopping before. I just don't know what she likes anymore." And the knowledge left him… bereft somehow.
"She's not a little girl anymore, Reed."
"So you keep telling me." He cast a wistful look up at the ceiling. Just a few months before, nothing could have pried Beth from the Monday night game. But now she always excused herself after dinner, saying she had studying to do.
"I never thought growing up meant she"d start disliking all the things we used to like."
Lauren shot him a sympathetic look. "You've had it easy. A girl who could tackle, jump, and check as well as any boy. But tomboys grow up and start liking frilly stuff."
"Tomboy" made him think of Mia Mitchell and her "comfy" hat. "Not all tomboys. You should meet my new partner."
Lauren eyes widened with surprise. "You hired a woman down at OFI?"
"No, she's a homicide detective."
She grimaced. "Ooh. Nasty."
Reed thought about Caitlin Burnette. lying in the morgue. "You have no idea."
"So tell me more. What's the new chick like?"
Reed gave her a censorious look. "If I called her a chick, you'd hit me."
Lauren grinned. "That's what I love about you. You're such a smart man. So dish."
"She's an athletic kind of woman." Who'd been able to respond to every challenge thrown her way that day, whether it was a grieving father, a two-hundred pound crackhead, or an arrogant baby lawyer. She'd dealt. Very capably, in fact. "That's all."
Lauren rolled her eyes. "That's all. So what's her name?"
"Mitchell."
Again her eyes rolled. "Herfirst name."
"Mia." And he found he liked the sound of it. It suited her. "She's a real pistol."
"And? Is she a blonde, brunette, redhead? Short, tall?"
It was his turn to roll his eyes. "A blonde. And small." The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. His shoulder twitched as the image flashed into his mind of her blond head resting there. Like that would ever happen. Somehow he couldn't see Mia Mitchell leaning on anyone. That the thought had even crossed his mind was disturbing in and of itself. Don't even consider going there, Solliday. She's not for you.
Lauren had sobered. "Too small to watch your back?"
In his mind he saw her taking down DuPree. "She'll be fine."
Lauren was watching him carefully. "She obviously made an impression on you."
"She's my partner, Lauren. That's all."
"That's all," she mimicked. "I'm never going to have any more nieces and nephews."
Now his mouth dropped open. "What? Whatever made you think you would?" He shook his head. "Have your own babies. Not me. Not again. I'm too old."
"You are not old. You just act like it. When was the last time you were out on a real date? And not a meeting with one of Beth's teachers or a visit to the dental hygienist."
"Thanks for reminding me. I need to schedule a teeth cleaning."
Her fist shot out of the suds to sock his arm. "I'm serious."
He rubbed his arm. "Ow. You keep hurting me tonight."
"Well, you keep pissing me off. When, Reed? When was your last date?"
That he'd entered into willingly? Sixteen years ago when he'd taken Christine out for coffee after the classical poetry class he'd dreaded until the night he'd met her. Afterward she'd read her own poetry, just to him, and he'd lost his heart right then and there. "Lauren, I'm tired. I've had a long day. Leave me alone."
She was undeterred. "You haven't had a date since… Christmas three years ago."
He shuddered. "Don't remind me. Beth hated her." So did I.
"Beth's support is important. But you're a young man. One of these days Beth will be grown and you'll be alone." Her mouth drooped. "I don't want you to be alone."
Her words hit him hard, the picture of Beth grown and gone too real in his mind. But Lauren cared. So Reed swallowed back a curt command for her to mind her own business and kissed the top of her head. "I like my life, Lauren. Get Beth some jeans that don't make her look twenty-five, okay?" He retreated, her glare boring into his back.
Upstairs, the loud pounding of Beth's music assaulted his ears through her bedroom door. This, he supposed, along with everything else, was part of her growing up. Still, he wished it weren't happening so fast. He knocked on the door, hard. "Beth?"
The music abruptly stopped and the puppy yapped. "Yeah?"
"I just wanted to talk to you, honey."
The door opened and her dark head poked out high, the puppy's low. "Yeah?"
Reed blinked and suddenly had no idea of what to say. Her brows went up, then back down, bunching in a frown. "You okay, Dad?"
"I was just thinking that we hadn't done anything together in a while. Maybe this weekend we can go… to the movies or something."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"
He laughed. "Because I miss you?"
Her eyes flickered. "One of my friends invited me to a sleepover this weekend."
He tried to swallow his disappointment. "Which friend?"
"Jenny Q. You met her mom at open house at the school last September."
Reed frowned. "I don't remember. I'll have to meet her again before you can go."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. She and I are also doing a science project together for school. You can take me there tomorrow night and meet her mom then."
"I can take you? How about 'Please, Dad? And don't roll your eyes at me," he snapped when she did just that. He sighed. He hadn't come to fight with her, but it seemed to be happening a lot more lately. "I'll meet her tomorrow."
Beth's frown softened. "Thanks, Dad." She closed the door with a soft click and he stood staring for a long moment before going on to his own room.
Where he stopped and sighed. Muddy paw prints still ran across his sheets. He remade the bed, then sat on the mattress and picked up Christine's picture. Christine had been… the one. He missed her. But I like my life just the way it is. The way he'd made it. Although, sometimes he did wish there was someone to talk to in the quiet hours. And there were, he admitted, the physical aspects as well. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. Lauren hadn't needed to remind him of that.
He'd never sought anyone to replace Christine. What woman could? She'd brought beauty to his world, nourished his soul. But his body had needs. He'd thought, in the early years after Christine's death, that he could… vent his need discreetly with women who weren't interested in long-term relationships. He'd quickly found there were no such creatures on the planet. Every woman who'd promised no strings, had ended up needing them. And each one had been hurt because Reed was a man of his word.
Unfortunately no strings plus no hurt equaled no sex. So he'd gone without. Not pleasant, but not the end of the world everyone made it out to be. There was discipline after all. The lessons he'd learned in the military had stood him in good stead. He liked his life. His quiet life. But tonight the quiet seemed more intense than it usually did.
He set Christine's picture down and pulled open the night-stand drawer where he'd kept the book hidden for eleven years, nestled under the stack of birthday and father's day cards. Carefully he pulled it from its place of safekeeping and caressed the cover with the pad of his thumb. It was no bigger than the palm of his hand. But so full of her. He let the hook fall open to the page that was most worn She'd called it simply "Us."
Pale shoot of golden green, supple stem and tentative leaves too new to be certain.
Held tight in a fist of craggy rock that shadows shelters.
holds the angel hair roots firm, beating back the wind, softening the drops of rain to a kiss.
Huddled against the rock's stubbly face, she unfurls her fronds, drinking in morning light.
Nourished by his mineral core, she grows lush in the life he offers her until it is unclear who saved whom.
Her canopy, now the roof above his head.
His stony crevice, her very foundation.
A light knock on his door had his pulse rocketing. He put the book away under the cards, feeling foolish. It was just a book. No cause to hide it like a guilty secret.
No. It wasn't just a book. It was a memory. Mine. "Come in."
Lauren stuck her head in, looking unhappy. "I'm sorry, Reed. I pushed too far."
"It's okay. Let's just leave it alone."
"Well… Good night." She closed the door and Reed sighed.
Then chuckled, because from out of nowhere came the mental picture of Mia Mitchell on her toes in the face of that arrogant little lawyer-boy. "Bully named Bubba who wants to be your best buddy," he murmured. Somehow he suspected a poetry reading wouldn't be her ideal first date. Mia Mitchell would want to go somewhere physical. Football, hockey. If I asked her out, we'd go to a game, he thought, then shook his head at his own meandering. He would never ask her out.
There would be no first date with Mia Mitchell. She was definitely not his type. He took a long look at Christines picture. She was his type. His wife had been grace and elegance with a sparkle in her eye when she felt mischievous or fun. Mitchell was brash and bold, every movement packed with pent-up energy, every word laid bare of nuance.
His gaze rested on the drawer where the book lay hiding. The words there had been Christine's heart. And his own. He couldn't see a woman like Mia Mitchell appreciating the delicate balance of words and emotions. Not that it made Mia a bad person. Not at all. Just not his kind of woman.
Not that it mattered. Theirs was a temporary business relationship. When he found Caitlin Burnette's murderer he would be back to normal. Which was just the way he liked things. He gathered the dirty sheets. He had time to do a load of laundry during halftime. Football, leftover pizza from the weekend, and a beer. It was a good life.
Monday, November 27, 8:00 p.m.
Beth Solliday took off the bathrobe she"d hastily donned at her father's knock and stepped in front of her full-length mirror. Her eyes critically analyzed the balance of color and style in the outfit she'd chosen for the weekend. Jenny Q had ordered it for her online. There was no way her father could know she'd bought it. She'd skipped lunch for two months to pay for this outfit, but it would be worth it.
She dialed Jenny. "It's Beth." She grinned. "I mean Liz."
"Are we on?"
"Laid the foundation. I told him he'd met your mother already last fall."
"Fine. I'll tell my mother that she met him. She never remembers anything."
"Good. See you tomorrow night."
"Bring the goods."
"Oh, I will." Beth hung up, did one last twirl. Then she changed into her pajamas and hid the outfit. Soon she'd step out. Experience life. She wasn't a little girl anymore.