Senseless (20 page)
Bobby rushed down the stairs and bolted into the room. For the first time the kid seemed filled with pure joy. For an instant she marveled. He was acting like a kid. A strong urge to protect Bobby welled inside her. She would safeguard what she could of his childhood.
His close proximity to Micah sent tension coiling around her chest. Micah had done nothing to her, but he was a Cross and as her mother used to say, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
When the boy darted into the safety of the kitchen she finally could say, “The best thing you can do for me is just leave King’s and never come back.”
“I want to make it up to you.”
“That’s impossible.” A customer yelled “Waitress” and she gratefully glanced toward the group of women who now looked anxious to pay and leave. “Micah, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Before he could respond, she moved to the table of women. She barely registered what they said. Instead, she was aware of Micah’s gaze on her. It seemed to bore into her and leave her skin tingling with worry and fear.
Mindlessly, she handed the women the check and waited as they argued over who was going to pay. When one woman finally pressed a credit card into her hand, she smiled and turned.
Micah had left.
She prayed she never saw him again, but deep in her heart she sensed the Cross family wasn’t finished with her.
Friday, April 7, 12:15 P.M.
Angie was running late when she arrived at Branford’s Coffee Shop. Another late night. A little too much wine to block out feelings that haunted her. And she ended up with another morning that was too short on time. She’d not had breakfast and now that she was out of court she was starving.
Bells jingled above her head as she dashed through the front entrance past packed tables to the front counter. A tall, slim man with blond hair, ice-blue eyes and pale pockmarked skin smiled at her. “Do you suppose you can cut your day any closer?”
“Brad. “ She dug in her huge Prada purse and fished until she found her wallet. She slapped a ten on the counter. “I’ll get the usual.”
“Afternoon, Ms. Carlson.” He lifted a coffeepot, filled a to-go cup and then dumped two sugars into the hot brew. “So what got you this time?”
“Don’t ask. And instead of a ham sandwich, just make it a plain bagel and toss in a ginger ale.”
“Ginger ale? You mock cola drinkers.”
“Today, I take back every smart-ass comment I’ve ever uttered about cola drinkers.” Just the smell of the coffee sent her stomach tumbling. She’d not have bought a coffee at all if he’d not poured it.
He nested the lid on top of the cup. “You feeling all right?”
Angie wrinkled her nose. “Just got a bug. I’ll live.”
Brad nodded. “I hear there’s one going around.”
She smiled. “I heard that too.”
“I’ll set you right up. My mom says extra ice and the carbonation are a sure cure for a bad stomach.”
“Bless you.”
He turned to fill her soda. She checked her watch and cursed that she’d overslept. What the hell ate at her lately? Control seemed to be slipping from her fingers at every corner.
Brad glanced back and set her soda on the counter. “Fresh bagels are in the back. Be right back.”
“You’re a god.” Angie slumped down on an empty counter stool and took a sip of the soda. Her stomach protested then eased a fraction.
“Maybe it’s the hair of the dog that you need. Sodas are for kids.” The comment came from the man sitting on the stool beside her.
Surprised, she glanced up, feeling defensive and ready to tell him to back off. But the sheepish smile on his face stopped her short. He was cute. Shoulder-length brown hair with auburn highlights, an open-collared button-down and long slim hands that wrapped around a coffee mug. “Thanks for the advice.”
He shrugged. “I’m not one to throw stones. I’ve been there a lot myself lately.”
She sipped her soda. “What do you mean?”
He winked and dropped his voice a notch. “Hung over.”
Angie faced him, trying to ignore the way her stomach groaned at the slightest movement. “I’m not hung over. I’ve got a bug.”
“Right. Right. What’s it called? The vodka virus?” He pretended to study her. “Or the white wine syndrome.”
She glanced back toward the kitchen door hoping Brad would bring her bagel so she could leave. She wasn’t sure why she should care what a stranger thought about her, but she did. “Very funny.”
“It’s no crime to drink a little too much now and again.”
“You’re wrong about me.”
It troubled her that he had cut right to her darkest secret.
Secret.
The word put such a torrid spin on everything. She didn’t have anything as tawdry as a
secret.
It wasn’t like she was an alcoholic. She’d had a few too many glasses of wine last night. And maybe the night before.
The man sipped his coffee. “I do that too.”
Brad appeared at the dinner bar with a paper bag. “Here ya go.”
Angie glanced at the ten on the counter, no longer willing to wait for change. “Thanks, Brad. See you tomorrow. ”
“I’ll be here.”
The stranger held up his cup to her. Small lines creased the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “You have a good day. Remember what I said about the hair of the dog.”
Angie snatched up the bag and started to leave. She walked two steps before the need to defend her actions took over. “Just for the record, Mr….”
He set his cup down. “Walters. Jim Walters.”
The guy didn’t look like a Jim Walters. The name sounded too plain for him, but who was she to question a decision his parents made well over thirty years ago. “Well, Mr. Walters, I do not have an issue.” She lowered her voice. “I am not hung over. I have a bug.”
“I hear ya.” His eyes twinkled in away that charmed and irritated. It had been a very long time since someone had looked past the tailored suits and the schoolteacher bun to see her as a woman. Feminine pride rose up. Just her luck it would happen on a day when she felt like crap. “It’s okay. Really.”
She leaned toward him, ready to argue her point again, when she realized she must look like the biggest fool. “Okay, fine. I had a little wine last night.” The truth sounded too harsh so she softened it with an innocent lie. “I settled a big case last night and I did have a few too many with my partners.” That was a lie. She drank almost the entire bottle alone in her house.
Walters winked. “Like I said, the hair of the dog will fix what’s ailing you.”
For a brief second the walls dropped. She was so tired of pretense and arguing shaky cases. “Honestly, hemlock sounds better.”
He chuckled. “Aspirin and ginger ale. Pain relief and hydrate. You’ll be as good as new by dinner.”
A faint smile curved the edge of her lips. “If I live that long.”
He picked up his cup, pausing by his lips. “If you do live until dinner, would you like to break bread with me?” He sipped his coffee, so relaxed and confident.
“Did you ask me out on a date?” Angie didn’t hide her shock.
Walters set his cup down softly on the saucer. “Yeah, why not?”
Automatically, she shuffled through her brain trying to remember the last time she’d been asked out, couldn’t remember and then immediately came up with six reasons why she didn’t want to go out with him.
“Let me guess,” he said easily. “You’re a lawyer.”
“You can hear the debate in my head right now, can’t you?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Sorry. I’m just out of practice.” But before one more objection could rear its head, she heard herself saying, “Sure. Dinner sounds good.”
His impish grin managed to ease her hangover. He rose. “Great. Seven?”
She tipped her head back so that she could maintain eye contact. “Perfect.”
“Now are you going to tell me your name?”
Laughter bubbled inside her, clanging against the insides of her throbbing head. “Angie Carlson.” She pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to him. “You can text me later with a place.”
He studied the card, flicking the edge with his index finger. “I’ll text you later, Ms. Angelina R. Carlson, Esquire.”
“Great.”
Beer sloshed all over Eva’s hand, making her curse and snap the tap closed. Annoyed she’d zoned out, she set two overflowing beers in front of a couple of customers, so hard the beer again sloshed on her hands.
“Whoa,” a guy said. He was a regular named Doug. He looked like a thinner version of John Belushi. “What’s eating you?”
His buddy Pete grinned. “Must be that time of the month.”
The look Eva shot Pete and Doug wiped the smiles from their lips, however the twinkle in their eyes remained.
“Ah, come on, Eva, don’t be such a sourpuss. We got wives. We get it.”
Doug and Pete were basically good guys and they tipped well. She sure wasn’t going to get into it with them. “Right, I’m the Wicked Witch. I get it. Better I retreat now before I explode or something.” To soften her entire demeanor, she gave each a fresh beer. “On the house.”
Without a word she turned her attention to the crate of clean glasses waiting to be restocked. She started pulling glasses from the dishwasher and stacking them on the glass shelf behind the bar.
Lisa and Sara’s deaths. Micah’s visit. Seeing Kristen. Life kept dragging her back to those missing moments when Josiah died. Two weeks ago, she would have fought the journey back to the past as she chanted “Eyes forward.” But she now believed that unless she sketched in those missing minutes, the future was in peril.
“So what’s a gal got to do to get a beer around here?” Sally’s gravelly voice had Eva turning back toward the bar.
Despite her mood, Eva smiled. “For you, anything. How’s it going?”
Silver bracelets dangled from Sally’s slim wrist as she brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Hanging tough. But you don’t look so good.”
Eva set a soda in front of Sally. “Long day. You want the regular?”
“Thanks, doll.” Sally sipped her cola. “Tell Mama Sally about it. ”
The edge of Eva’s mouth tipped into a smile. She could count on one hand the number of people she liked. Sally numbered among them. She punched the order into the computer. “I’m doing fine.”
The sun had etched deep lines into Sally’s face, giving it a sagelike quality. “Yeah, and I’m a rock star diva. Where’s my guitar?”
Eva smiled wearily, so tired of not trusting and of keeping her past hidden. She’d wanted to push it aside, but the old wounds had been clawed open and wouldn’t be ignored. “I saw a friend from college today as well as a guy I knew back then.”
Sally cocked a brow. “Ah, college. I’m still not too old to have forgotten that. That’s the kind of encounter that can go either way. Good or bad?”
“Not well.” She picked up a rag and started to wipe the counter. She wished she could wipe the past as easily as a spill. “Real bad.”
Sally pushed her drink aside and leaned in. “Want to tell me about it?”
The words danced on the edge of Eva’s tongue. “It’s a can of nasty worms.”
“I’ve never run from nasty. Really, kid, whatever you say ain’t gonna scare me away.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Sally’s eyes hardened with startling intensity. “Not from me.”
Eva stared into the sharp blue-gray eyes and knew Sally was no quitter. Eva sensed she could toss her worst secrets out on the table and Sally wouldn’t flinch. “I went to talk to this woman about something that happened in college.”
“That’s old news, isn’t it?”
“You’d think, but the past has a way of hanging on sometimes.”
“Tell me about it. ”
“If I had a bit of common sense I’d have left well enough alone.”
“But you don’t have any sense,” she said, teasing.
“I’m all out. Anyway, I tried to talk to her and discovered she’s kind of rewritten history. She says what happened was all my fault.”
“Was it?”
Eva hesitated and then answered truthfully, “I blamed myself for a long time but not anymore.” To this day she could still not remember killing Josiah, but she knew she must have acted in self-defense. “I didn’t ask for anything that happened to me.”
Sally’s voice grew very soft. “What happened?”
She’d never talked about the rape. There’d been one officer who’d been kind, but once Darius had heard about the kindness, he had the officer removed from the case. From then on she’d received no counseling. “I was raped.”
Sally silently stared, her expression unreadable. “I’m sorry.”
If Sally had shown pity, as her sister had, Eva would have completely lost it. Still, Sally’s silence charged the air with emotions that without warning triggered tears she’d fought to control for so long. A tear spilled down her cheek and she swiped it. “God, it’s been over a decade. You’d think I’d be over it all by now.”
“It’s a hard thing to let go of, honey.”
“I’d really believed that I’d stowed away the trauma of that night. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for anything. But talking to Kristen today … I felt violated all over again.”
“How so?”
“She called me a liar. She said I asked for what happened.”
Sally’s brows knotted. “Why would she be so cruel?”
“I got a little too close to her own secrets.”
“Secrets?” Sally remained silent, but she leaned forward slightly as if waiting for a punch line. And as much as the whole story begged to be told, Eva couldn’t.
“Hey, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”
Sally shrugged. “Don’t get yourself in a twist, kid.”
Eva ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I shouldn’t have gone to see her.”
“Why did you? ”
“Because college acquaintances of ours were murdered. I thought she might know something.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Nothing I can prove. And she’s about to leave for New York and make a whole new life for herself. ”
Sally sipped her cola. “Enough of the past. What have you done for Eva today? ”
“What do you mean? ”
“Have you heard from the scholarship committee?”
“They turned me down. ”
“That makes no sense. You’re as smart as a whip.”
“Smart isn’t always enough.” Eva grabbed a nearly empty bowl of peanuts, dumped out the contents and refilled it.
Bobby pushed through the kitchen door and brought a box of napkins to Eva. Cleaned up, with fresh clothes that King had dug out of his attic, the boy looked like a different kid. “King said to bring you napkins and to tell you I’m going to feed the kitten again.”
Eva smiled. “Hey, I could use another bottle of olives. And there’s open tuna in the fridge for the kitten.”
Bobby nodded. “I’ll get it right away.”
As he turned to go, Sally said, “And who is this new guy?”
Bobby glanced back at Sally nervously, but instead of stopping to speak to her, he scurried back into the kitchen.
Eva frowned, suddenly remembering her mother’s lessons on politeness. She felt as if she should bring Bobby back and have him speak to Sally, but he wasn’t her child and she sure wasn’t any kind of mother. And Sally was a social worker at heart and very likely to call Social Services if she knew about Eva’s record. “Sorry about that. He forgets his manners.”
Sally shrugged, her gaze still on the door through which the boy disappeared. “No sweat. Whose is he?”
Eva liked Sally but didn’t know her well enough to know how she’d react about Bobby. “He’s King’s foster son.”
“He’s cute. Reminds me of my son.”
That shocked her. “You never told me you had a son.”
