Friends and Lovers (19 page)

“Daddy.” Wes chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Get used to it.”

Sherry looked up and smiled at Lauren. “Robin’s kicking. Do you want to feel him?”

Lauren rushed over, and Sherry took her hand and placed it on her hard belly. Lauren’s face lit up and she laughed.

“That’s so cool,” Lauren said with a big smile and pulled back her hand.

“If you think that’s something, you should have felt him a month ago. He was all over the place, but he’s run out of room now. It must be cramped. Poor Robin can’t be comfortable hanging upside down with his head wedged. I know it doesn’t feel pleasant for me.”

“No doubt.” Wes shuddered and handed Lauren her wine.

“Well, if I get a vote, I’m ready to get this party started.” Sherry looked at the apple juice in her hand and sighed.

* * * *

After dinner, Sherry shooed the guys away, her motive clear as day to all of them. It was time for some girl talk. Lauren braced herself for it, not exactly sure what to expect. Working in tandem, Sherry rinsed the dishes and Lauren loaded the dishwasher but a cloud of tension hovered in the air between them.

Finally Sherry turned to Lauren and asked, “Does he make you happy?”

They both held the last plate and neither was letting go.

“Yes. Very happy,” Lauren admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Good.” Sherry sighed and released the plate. “I can’t believe I was so blind. How did I miss this?”

“I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You could have told me.”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Sherry laughed, her hands flapping out from her sides. “I like you together. Don’t get me wrong, I love you both apart, but you’re really great together.”

“You think?” Lauren straightened up and shut the dishwasher.

“What…trouble in paradise?”

“We had another argument on the way over. Wes doesn’t want me to go to Will’s hearing tomorrow.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No.” Lauren rubbed her temples. “But he doesn’t understand.”

Sherry laughed. “Lauren, Wes is a cop. Trust me, he understands.”

Lauren smiled and reached for her wine. “You’re right. Am I being unreasonable?”

Sherry’s eyebrow went up, the expression so much like her brother’s it was uncanny. “You tell me.”

* * * *

Wayne Coulter got home from work at half past six and carried his dinner into the kitchen. He set the fast food bag on the counter and went looking for ketchup and mustard in the fridge. Finding the mustard empty, he threw it at the garbage in the corner. The bottle bounced off the mounded top and joined the other bags and bottles littering the floor. He left it there and hooked a six pack of Bud with one finger and carried everything into the living room and over to his La-Z-Boy recliner.

Toeing off his shoes without untying them, Coulter kicked back in the chair and picked up the remote. The footrest sprang out to support his legs as the television glowed on.

A half hour later, Wayne made his way into the bathroom, bringing the extra napkins with him. There was a multicolored stack of napkins sitting on the edge of the vanity—some stamped, most not. He added to the pile, growing angrier by the second because using napkins for toilet paper had given him a hemorrhoid. Not good when you drove a truck for a living. It would have been nice if the bitch had done the shopping before she left.

Glaring down at the gun catalogue on his lap Wayne fumed about his diet of late. For three days now he’d been backed up, unable to move his bowels, and he could almost feel his arteries constricting from all the fatty shit he was eating, but what was a man supposed to do?

Eventually giving it up as another lost cause, he stood and hauled up his pants. He had to wash his hands with the cheap-assed strawberry scented shampoo Sylvia left behind and dry them on his trousers because every fucking towel reeked now. To make matters even worse, he was out of socks and underwear too. This particular pair of boxers was on its third wearing already, the second time he turned them inside out and this morning he went sorting through the clothes on his bedroom floor looking for the cleanest of the dirty. There was no point in turning them around. Who the fuck was going to see them anyway?

Wayne picked up the can of beer next to the sink and took a long swallow, staring at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror when he finally lowered it. He looked like shit. His skin was slack, his stubble was becoming a problem because every razor in the house was dull, and he was overdue for a haircut.

Slapping off the light, Wayne wandered out and frowned at the television. What was this shit he was watching anyway? Crap, everything was crap. He set his beer on the end table and went into the bedroom and fished under his pillow for his gun.

* * * *

If Wes could rank all the things he hoped to hear from Lauren, “Wes, I’m not going to Will’s hearing,” would come in at number two. He got his wish on the way home. Maybe now she could finally sleep through the night. Unfortunately, just shy of two AM., Lauren woke Wes with a ghostly moan.

No matter how quiet her soft wails sounded to him, Wes understood Lauren was screaming in terror on the inside. He pulled her tight against him and wrapped his arms and a leg around her. Soothing her with gentle murmurs, he got Lauren to settle back to sleep. Wes wondered how she coped on those rare occasions when she returned to her apartment. She probably sat up half the night with the television to keep her company, using it to distract her from her demons. There was no way she would ever admit it, but Lauren’s exhaustion spoke volumes.

Awake, Lauren was a strong and sassy woman, a true advocate and fighter for those who needed a champion, but at night, locked in her own head, it was clear she was losing her battles and finding herself just as vulnerable as the women she helped.

* * * *

The sun was coming in low and long through the bedroom windows when Lauren woke to Wes’s breath on her ear.

“Come on, sleepy, time to wake up.” He whipped the covers back and caressed her naked bottom.

She grumbled and dragged his pillow over her head but Wes pulled that off too.

“Lauren, we both have to get to work, but it’s Thursday—two more days, that’s all.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No.” Wes nuzzled into her neck until she rolled away and sat up.

“All right already. I’m up,” she said irritably.

He laughed. “I might even believe it if you could open your eyes.”

Lauren peeled her lashes apart and frowned up at him.

“That’s better,” he said with a big smile.

“You’re way too perky in the morning.”

“Funny, you’ve never complained about that before,” he said roguishly.

She reached for his pillow and tossed it at him, missing.

Wes laughed on his way out. “Your shower’s waiting, babe.”

Lauren dragged herself into the bathroom and stepped into the tub. Hot water rained on her face and she stretched into it, smoothing it back from her forehead and down her hair. Wes walked into the bathroom a few minutes later and snaked his hand around the door, giving her breast a friendly squeeze. In a much better frame of mind now, she smiled and pressed into his palm.

“You’re so easy,” he said, chuckling softly.

“Never used to be.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now come on, your coffee’s getting cold.” He stood back and held open a large bath towel.

Lauren turned off the shower and stepped out, and Wes wrapped the towel around her. Stretching up on her toes, Lauren gave Wes a wet kiss and they nuzzled noses.

“Thanks again for backing down today,” he said, roughing her skin dry.

Lauren sighed. “What choice did I have? You wouldn’t let it go. I still think you’re making too much of me going to the hearing, but I hated seeing you all stressed out. And,” she added grudgingly, “you’re probably right about his chances of getting paroled this soon.”

“Probably?”

Lauren smiled. “The jury’s still out.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m not giving up. I’m just giving myself more time to revise my tactics. Can you deal with that?”

He studied her long and hard. “It depends on what you come up with.”

She laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Lauren, I appreciate this.” Wes kissed her tenderly then left so she could dress and make-up her face.

* * * *

Sometimes the planets really did align, Wayne thought with satisfaction. The shelter harboring his wife was a secure location so it took him several frustrating days to find their address. He never could have done it on his own. Just when he was about to give up he remembered, belatedly, that he worked for a delivery service. Duh! The shelter wasn’t on his route but it turned up in the company system. It was a piece of cake to access what he needed. His family was going to be back together by tonight.

Of course someone must have talked Sylvia into leaving him, but Wayne was damned if he could figure out who to blame. There was a point when he feared his own sister may have been responsible for interfering in their lives, but when she called looking for Sylvia a few days after her disappearance, those suspicions subsided. He even toyed briefly with the possibility that Sylvia had left him for another man, but it was hard to imagine that since she didn’t even
like
sex. Only when Wayne saw Sylvia riding around with a strange woman was he finally able to put that lingering suspicion to rest.

It was a quarter to eleven on Thursday morning when Wayne pulled his delivery van against the curb in front of the unremarkable house and parked. He could almost taste the home-cooked meal Sylvia was going to make tonight. He released his seat belt and bent to pick up the two priority mail packages—one sealed and intended for Security Title, the other bulky and sliced open at the back.

Maybe he’d have Sylvia make a roast chicken with garlic mashed potatoes. Comfort food, yeah, comfort food would be good tonight.

Taking both packages, along with his handheld signature capture unit, Wayne dropped to the pavement and strolled up the driveway. He recognized the car parked out front immediately and his face contorted with a grim smile. It did nothing to improve his mood.

The suburban neighborhood was quiet at this time of day. No doubt most of the residents were at work. The morons probably didn’t even know this place was here.

He walked up the steps and pressed the bell. A black woman peeked out and nodded to him, buzzing him inside.

She smiled when he walked in. “No Gary today?”

“He finally took vacation,” Wayne lied, not knowing or caring who the hell Gary was.

“Well, good,” she said, holding out her hand for the envelope.

Not giving her a chance to notice it wasn’t meant for her, he thrust the signature unit on top of it, diverting her attention away from the address. It worked like a charm.

She signed her name and asked, “So where’d he go?”

“What?”

She held the unit out to him but he didn’t take it. “Gary? Where’d he end up going?”

He scowled. “Bumbfuck, Indiana. How the hell should I know?”

An impressive amount of white showed around her brown irises. “What was that?”

Wayne slipped his hand into the bulky package and pulled out his gun, pointing it at her. “No, I think you mean what is
this
?”

She dropped the signature capture onto her desk and her hands shot into the air, her posture as rigid as a statue. “What’s going on?”

The woman he’d seen with his wife came out of the inner office with a frown. “Jackie?” She froze, her eyes locked on the gun pointed at her assistant. Then her eyes slid to him and she asked, “What do you want?”

Despising the woman on sight, his lip curled unpleasantly. “I want my wife and daughter. Where are they?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

He knew she’d lie. “Sylvia and Hope Coulter.”

She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! I saw you with Sylvia. I followed you in your car. Now, where is she?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she repeated.

Frustrated, he squeezed the trigger, putting a bullet hole in the filing cabinet right next to her. Both women jumped and screamed like a couple of monkeys.

“Try again.”

Chapter 18

Lauren shrank back as the gun swung around on her.

“Who else is here?” the man snarled. “And don’t even think about fucking with me or I’ll put a hole right between your goddamned eyes next. I don’t have time for this shit.”

Lauren’s brain scrambled in all directions at once as she stared at the waving gun pointed her way. She was terrified it might go off again, and it didn’t matter if it happened accidentally or not. Clearly, the man had only a tenuous hold on his self-control on a good day, but seeing the reckless way he was brandishing his pistol, it took every ounce of strength she had not to dive for cover behind the desk.

Facing him down with more bravery than she felt, Lauren said, “There’s a woman and her little boy downstairs. That’s everyone, I swear.”

He swung the gun back at Jackie. “Get up.”

Using the gun, he waved Lauren over to Jackie’s side. His long, deliberate glare at Jackie was downright chilling. Not only was he a misogynist but apparently a racist as well. They stood rigid, shaking with fright while he walked backward and threw the deadbolt on the front door.

“Go on,” he ordered, driving them down the steps ahead of him.

Young Jeri Reynolds was on the floor trying to interest her toddler in blocks, but Simon was more interested in whatever made the most noise and he added to it with his voice. No wonder they didn’t hear the shot and screams upstairs.

Lauren and Jackie walked stiffly into the playroom. When Jeri saw their faces, her smile crumbled. She caught hold of her son’s arm and tugged him into her lap. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the gunman following Jackie and Lauren.

“Get down on the floor next to her,” the man ordered.

Jackie and Lauren sank to the carpet on either side of Jeri.

Coulter looked directly at Jeri, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who else is down here with you?”