In the Shadow of the Shield (Secret Lives Series Book 2) (2 page)

“What the
hell
was that?” Donnie bellowed from the doorway.

Diana spun around in her chair so quickly, it tipped backward and she sprawled onto the floor. Her husband made no move to help her up. He looked at her, his expression a mixture of absolute horror and rage. She jumped to her feet, tossing a quick glance at the clock on her desk—barely one in the morning. Donnie wasn’t due home for another hour at least.

“Donnie! What are you doing home so early?”

The horror slipped away as his mood morphed into full blown rage. Donnie clenched his fists and took a step toward her. “Pretty sure that is not the question we need answered right now! Who the hell is
big man
and why were you talking dirty to him on the phone?”

Diana steeled herself. This confrontation had worried her for years, and now here it was. All the blood rushed from her brain to her abdomen. Lightheaded, she swayed a little on her feet, catching herself with the corner of the desk. “How…how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough!” Donnie bellowed again. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“He is—he’s no one. Just a guy.”

“Just a guy?” Donnie demanded. “She said ‘just a guy.’ Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better! You need a hell of a lot more of an explanation than that, Diana!”

“Can you please calm down, Donnie? It’s not what you think.” He was angrier than she had ever seen him in twenty years together.

“Not what I think? I walk in and my wife is having phone sex with some guy she calls ‘big man,’ and it’s
not what I think
!”

“Do you have to repeat everything I say?” Her own anger began to build.

“I haven’t repeated
everything
, now have I, Di?” The words came out in a low growl. His eyes had started doing that bulging thing where he looked like the fancy goldfish Jackson kept in a bowl in his room. Donnie had far surpassed angry when that happened.

“Look, I wasn’t talking dirty to him. Okay, well, I was, but not in a sexual way…”

“It sure as hell sounded sexual to me!”

“Donnie! Would you just
listen
to me and stop treating me like some perp you arrested?”

“Diana…” His voice held a warning. The same warning she knew it held when he pulled in a crack dealer or a drunk driver that had fled a hit and run.

“Would you please sit down and let me explain?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll stand. You start talking.
Now
!”

She sighed heavily. All these years, she never really expected this to happen. “I was talking dirty, but not to get turned on. It’s my job, Donnie.”

“
Your job
?”

“Yes. You always work on Saturday nights. Several years ago, I was reading the want ads in the paper thinking about getting a part-time job, and I found this ad.”

“What sort of ad?” He uncrossed his arms and then re-crossed them. Diana knew the moment realization hit him. His eyes double bulged as his already red face deepened to a dark crimson. “
What sort of ad?
”

“I think you already figured it out.” She dropped back into her desk chair, throwing her hands in the air in defeat.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Okay. Fine. It was an ad for a 1-900 operator.”

“A sex line! My wife works for a damned
sex
line?”

“A 900 number, Donnie. It specializes in lonely men over the age of fifty.”

“So, I risk my life on the streets every night to keep the city safe, and provide for my family, and my wife uses that time to get all kinky with strange men on the telephone?” He turned and slammed his fist into the wall. The drywall crumbled into dust upon impact. “Holy shit! What the son of a bitch hell!”

He clutched his fist to his chest, letting out a long string of curses. Diana ran toward the door, but Donnie stepped in front of her.

“Where in the hell are you going? We aren’t done here!”

“Donnie, you need ice on that. You probably broke your hand!”

“I’m fine!”

Even as he insisted, his hand turned a lovely shade of purple. The first two knuckles swelled to twice their normal size, and Donnie winced as he tried to open and close the fist.

“You are not fine,” she stated quietly. “But if you want to do this now, then fine. I work as a 900 operator on Saturday night. The line makes $3.99 per minute. I get half of that. It’s good money, safe, and I didn’t have to worry about a babysitter when Jackson was little.”

“A babysitter? You said a few years ago. How many is a
few
?”

“Ten,” she whispered, staring at the rug.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. It sounded like you said ten years.”

She looked up at her husband. His eyeballs had receded back into their sockets, but his face had stayed scarlet while his breaths came in ragged gasps. It could have been from the pain as much as the anger, but she guessed it was the latter.

“I did. It’s been ten years.”

“How did I not know you were doing this for a
decade
?” Donnie demanded, eyes getting large again.

“The job is flexible.”

“
Flexible
?”

She reached out and touched his arm. “It’s okay, Donnie. I did it for us.”

“For us?”

“You have no idea how much money I have socked away for our retirement. You could retire now, if you wanted to.”

All of a sudden she remembered the phone call earlier in the evening. “Donnie? Did something happen at work tonight?”

“Don’t change the subject, Di.”

“I’m not, I swear. A man called tonight—”

Donnie snorted. “So I’ve heard.”

“Donnie! Just listen! He knew you. He said you were ready for something.”

Her husband stood there and stared at her, disbelief replacing some of the anger. His color slowly lightened to a bright pink, but his breathing didn’t seem to slow.

“Say something, Donnie.”

Donnie’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face went pale, his eyeballs rolled back into his head, and her six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound husband hit the floor with a crash.

“Donnie!” She ran to him, automatically feeling for a pulse. His heart beat erratically in his chest, but it was beating. She grabbed her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Chapter Two

The paramedics had all known Donnie. She tried to explain away the hole in the wall as an accident, but knowing eyes told her they didn’t believe her, despite the kind words that were murmured by their owners.

“What’s taking so long?” Jackson paced in front of her. They were the only people in the little waiting area.

“I don’t know, honey.”

“What did you do to make him so mad?” Her son stopped walking and tried to stare her down, but Diana shook her head.

“Jackson, your father and I have had arguments before. There’s something else wrong with him.”

“Yeah, he got pissed and punched a hole in the wall because you two had an argument.” Jackson dropped into a chair facing her. “It must have been a doozy.”

“What goes on between your father and I is really none of your business, son. But for what it’s worth, it’s not the first hole he’s punched in a wall either. Your dad had—has—quite the temper.”

“Why did you do that?” Jackson jumped to his feet again.

“Do what?” Diana asked, confused.

“Say ‘had’ instead of ‘has’.”

“I don’t know. It was a mistake.”

Jackson pulled out his cell phone and plugged the ear buds he wore around his neck into it. Cranking his music so loud Diana could hear it, he dropped back into his seat and closed his eyes. Normally she would tell him to turn it down so he didn’t go deaf at seventeen, but she let it slide this time. There were other things to worry about.

She leaned her head back against the wall behind her chair and closed her own eyes, letting out a long sigh. What
was
taking the doctors so long? Donnie was as strong as a bull—a fist to the wall shouldn’t have dropped him like that. He had been breathing hard, his face had also been unusually red—even for an angry Donnie—but nothing that should have kept him in the E.R. for so long.

Relax, Di. He’s going to be fine.

“Mrs. Massey?” a soft voice called. Diana’s eyes shot open, and she jumped to her feet.

“Here. That’s me.”

An older man, shorter than her by at least three inches and clothed completely in scrubs, walked toward her, his expression grim.

“Mrs. Massey. I am so sorry, we did everything we could.” His grey eyes were soft with compassion as Diana struggled to comprehend what he said. Vaguely, she sensed Jackson standing beside her.

“What do you mean? Is his hand that damaged? Will he need surgery? Physical therapy?”

“His hand?” The doctor looked confused for a second. “No, ma’am, I don’t think you understand. Your husband suffered a cardiac event. We weren’t able to bring him back. I am so sorry.”

“Cardiac event? What does that even…?”

“He’s dead, Mom!” Jackson blurted, tears running down his face. Her son ran from the waiting area.

“Jackson!” she called after him, still not entirely grasping the situation.

“Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. Massey? You aren’t looking so well.”

She felt cold. And dizzy. Sitting seemed like a very good idea. Diana dropped into the hard plastic seat. “How?”

“We are running some blood work, but I suspect exposure to some sort of toxin. His CO
2
levels were very high.”

“We were having an argument. He punched the wall. That’s it. Now he’s—now you tell me he is
dead
?”

“We did everything we could. I have to get back now. Again, please accept my condolences for your loss. I cannot even imagine what you and your son must be feeling.”

The little man left the room as quickly as he had appeared. She should go find Jackson. Her brain said ‘move,’ but the rest of her didn’t seem to get the message.

“Diana!” She looked up to see her friend Cyndi Mills standing in the doorway with her husband Jason. Donnie and Jason worked together. Cyndi ran to her and dropped down in the chair next to her.

“What happened? Is Donnie okay?”

She looked at her friend, unable to speak.

“Diana? What did the doctor say?” Jason asked.

“He—he’s gone.”

“The doctor? It’s okay, I can go find him if you want me to,” Cyndi said as she took Diana’s hand.

“No. Not the doctor. Donnie. He’s gone. He died.”

“What? I just saw him at work not two hours ago! He was fine,” said Cyndi’s husband.

“I know, Jason. He was fine when he got home, I think. I don’t know.” Diana dropped her head in her hands. It all seemed so unreal. One minute they were arguing over her job, the next Donnie was dead.

“Have they told you anything else?” Cyndi asked.

“The doctor said it appears he was exposed to some sort of toxin. His CO
2
levels were very high. I don’t understand.”

Jason had his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. “I think I do. Shit. Pick up the phone, L.T.!”

She became even more confused.

“Hey. It’s Mills. That house over in Lynnhaven we were at tonight? Remember the stink I told you Massey smelled? Get it secure. I think there’s been a meth lab in there.”

A meth lab
?

He fell quiet for a minute before he spoke again, in much more subdued tones. “Yeah, I’m at the hospital now. Massey’s gone, L.T. They think he was poisoned, and he is the only one who went inside that house.”

Diana watched Jason’s expression change from one of sadness to one of determination.

“Get that place locked down. I’m heading over there to find the son of a bitch who owns it.”

Jason disconnected the call and dropped the phone in his pocket. “I am so sorry, Di. If there is anything I can do, let me know. Right now, I’ve got to get out of here. Cyndi? Can you let the doctor know Donnie is a detective and he may have spent time in a building where they were making methamphetamine?”

Cyndi nodded. “Yes. I’ll go find him right away.”

“What’s the rush? My husband is already dead.” Diana lost it then. The tears fell unchecked, accompanied by heavy, body-wracking sobs. She heard Jason leave and felt Cyndi’s arm around her. Her friend smoothed her hair and whispered a prayer in her ear. All Diana could focus on was the last conversation she and her husband had. Her big, sweet, bear of a man had died thinking his wife was a cheating tramp. How would she ever live with herself?

“Diana?” Cyndi spoke quietly, trying to get her attention. She opened one red, swollen, tear-filled eye and looked at her friend.

“What?”

“Does Jackson know?”

Jackson!
She had completely forgotten about her son.

“Yes, he knows. He ran out of here very upset. I have to go find him!”

She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her weight, and she collapsed back into the chair.

“You stay here, I’ll go find him.”

“He drove his own car. He’s probably long gone.”

“Do you know where he would go? I can have Jason go after him.”

“He probably went to his girlfriend’s house. He spends all his time with her.” As if on cue, Diana’s phone chirped, indicating a new text message. “That’s probably him now.” She fished the phone from her purse and looked at the screen through watery eyes. “Yup, his girlfriend says he just got there. He will be okay there. She comes from good people. He won’t want to see me anyway. He probably thinks all of this is my fault.”

“How could this be your fault?” Cyndi pushed her friend’s hair back from her eyes and offered her a tissue.

“Donnie and I were having an argument right before he—when he collapsed.”

“So?”

“I know how my son thinks. In his mind, the argument gave him a heart attack, and if I hadn’t been arguing with him, he never would have died.”

“He will understand when the doctor gets the blood work back. Your son loves you.”

“Yeah, I know. He wanted to know what we were arguing about, but I told him it was none of his business. What if this is all my fault?” Her head dropped into her hands again.

“Why would you even think that? Jason said he was in a meth lab today.”

“A possible meth lab. And that doesn’t hold a candle to what we argued about.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, Di.”

“He walked in on my last call.”

“Your last—oh!” Cyndi’s eyes opened wide as understanding hit her. “Your last
call
!”

“The final thought my husband had about me was that I was a cheating whore. How will I ever live with that?”

“I don’t know, Di. I can’t even begin to imagine what you are going through right now, but I promise you this—you
will
get through it, and we will all be there to help.”

Diana nodded, but the sound of her heart breaking drowned out her best friend’s words. Then, of course, there was the phone call—the one she couldn’t tell anyone about without running the risk of hurting Jackson even more.