The Frailty of Flesh (10 page)

Craig nodded and sank into his chair, bumping his foot against a box as he did.

The Harrington case files. He sighed, glanced at his watch. They’d have to wait, unless he wanted to take them home. There was no way he was going to risk running into Zidani again after the day he’d had.

He pulled out the box he’d been going through earlier and opened the lid. On top were the files he’d been looking at, the ones with the reports and crime-scene photos. All the case notes, interviews, leads tracked down…All of that still waited in the folders below.

Craig realized he’d spilled a bit of information when he was talking to Emma Fenton, but she’d reciprocated. Legal action. It explained Zidani’s interest. Anything that could taint Steve would help Zidani keep his job, and he’d no longer be “acting sergeant.” The promotion would be finalized.

After a minute Craig stood, picked up the second box and stacked it on top of the first one. It wasn’t until he was outside, boxes propped between his body and the Rodeo as he dug in his pocket for his keys, that he realized he hadn’t talked to Ashlyn.

He opened the door, put the boxes on the front passenger seat and got in.

They’d talk when she got home.

Ashlyn pulled into her parking spot and stopped her car. She leaned back in her seat, listening to the drumming of rain on the roof. First it came down slow, erratically. Then it built to a steady rhythm, the kind of long, dug-in rainfall that demanded you take it seriously, coming down thick and fast.

Thick enough to distort her view of the house. Through the water she could see the warm glow from inside. Craig was home. He hadn’t waited to talk to her at the station. She knew that, because she’d checked at his desk before heading for her car.

She closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples, wished the rain could wash away her headache. What was it about the nausea that was making her head feel like the inside of a mixing bowl with the beaters set on high? Her stomach wasn’t even that agitated; it just sent a clear message that it was set to trampoline mode, that any time she even thought about eating it was ready to bounce up some lingering remnant from a previous meal to remind her it wasn’t accepting contributions at the moment.

Throughout the day she’d felt Tain’s gaze on her, sensed the unasked questions. If she couldn’t shake this quickly…

She sighed and opened the car door. The idea that she wasn’t in control of her own body, that she couldn’t even coerce its cooperation, bothered her. There had to be a way for her to handle it.

The rain was cold and she felt a shiver run down her spine, but could still only manage to walk to the door. By the time she was inside and had hung up her coat the chill had seeped through her clothes and skin, right to her core.

The house was quiet. No music, no sizzle of the wok or whirring of the microwave to guide her to Craig. The only clue was the light spilling over from the living room. Her legs protested as she forced herself to walk down the hall, telling her they only had enough strength left to carry her upstairs to bed and that if she went this way she’d have to figure out another way to get to her bed, because they’d have called it quits for the day.

In the corner of the room, on the far side of the fireplace, the half-decorated Christmas tree stood, performing its fiber optic light show. Ashlyn had thought it would be so much easier having a fiber optic tree. No need to fiddle with strings of lights, to try to evenly disperse them throughout the branches. Just plug it in and hang the decorations. What could be simpler? They kept saying tonight they’d go to the mall or the afternoon of their next day off together, and then a case would get in the way. Always her case, never his. Not since Lori had died. She felt a sudden urge to make tree decorations a top priority. Part of her knew she wouldn’t really feel it was Christmas until they had a tree decorated and had done something festive, but it was more than that. It wasn’t something she could explain, but she was overwhelmed with a compulsion to make sure the routine holiday traditions didn’t go undone.

Craig was in the living room, sitting on the chair beside the fireplace, two boxes on the floor, files stacked precariously on the coffee table. He said nothing as she sank down on the couch, but continued reading the report in his hands. Then he thumbed through a stack of folders on the table, pulled one out and flipped it open. After a moment his frown deepened and he set it down with the report on top of it.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. Ashlyn knew that look.

“What’s wrong?”

His head snapped up and he stared at her for a moment before the color returned to his face. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“Craig, really,” she said as she picked up the blanket that had been tossed over the far end of the couch and spread it over her legs. She put her head on the armrest. “You were so deep in thought you would have missed the second coming, trumpets and all.”

“Hardly. This isn’t even the first time tonight I’ve turned to find you watching me.”

She sat up, the blanket slipping to the floor. “You’re talking to some woman, in public, right in front of the building I work in, and I’m not supposed to notice?”

“I talk to women all the time. It never bugged you before.”

“Who said it bugs me now?”

He glanced at her as he gathered the folders and put them back in the box. “Take a look in the mirror. You’re choked.”

“Not for the reason you think! You’re the one who’s being defensive. You looked upset when you were talking to that woman, tense. I was worried, not jealous.”

“I can handle her.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

They sat for a moment, the beating of rain intensifying, drowning out even the crackle of fire.

She heard him exhale and from the corner of her eye could see him scratch his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I guess I was distracted, and it’s been a lousy day and that’s no excuse. Are you hungry? I was thinking of making a stir fry.”

The words alone were enough to make her stomach protest, and she shook her head and raised her hand. “No. Thanks. I think I’ll just go to bed.” Whether it was the promise of sleep or the thought of her stomach reacting to the sizzle of vegetables on a wok she wasn’t sure, but she found the energy to get up and start walking to the stairs.

He followed her. “Come on, Ash. I’m sorry for snapping at you. You don’t have to punish me for it.”

“Believe it or not, the whole world doesn’t revolve around Craig Nolan. I’m just tired.” She turned to look at him. “You aren’t the only one who had a lousy day.”

He stood perfectly still as he looked at her. No flicker of emotion on his face, nothing to suggest what he was thinking. After a moment he nodded. “Okay.” Then he reached behind her head with his hand and kissed her forehead. For a moment he stood with his cheek pressed against her temple before letting her go. “Get some rest.”

She turned quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and climbed the stairs.

It took a moment for her to get her bearings when she opened her eyes. Somehow, her body knew it wasn’t late. She also knew she was in her own bed, the one she shared with Craig. The thing that struck her most was what was missing from within her. For the first time in days her head wasn’t throbbing and her stomach didn’t feel as though someone was using it as a juggling ball.

Rain was still falling, though the drumming had lost its intensity, settling for a soft tapping on the roof. A flicker of light was enough for her to get her bearings and see that Craig was standing by the window, rivulets running down the glass.

She slid off the bed, walked over to where he stood and wrapped her arms around his chest. Some of his tension seemed to dissolve as soon as she rested her head against the back of his shoulder.

The light shimmered on his bare skin.

“Candles?” she asked.

“The power went out.”

“What time is it?”

“Not late. Just after ten. I brought you some dinner, in case you’re hungry.”

She realized then that she could smell the food, and even that wasn’t bothering her stomach. “That’s a good sign.”

He turned to face her. “That I brought you dinner?”

“That the smell isn’t making me queasy.”

“If you’re feeling better you should eat. You haven’t had much of an appetite the past few days.”

“Later.”

His thumb stroked the small of her back as he bent down, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re really feeling okay?”

“Well…” She smiled. “I feel pretty good, but I could still feel better.”

It wasn’t until she saw his relaxed grin that it occurred to her it had been a while since she’d really seen him happy, but she willed herself not to think about that. As they made their way to the bed she realized it hadn’t been a few days that she hadn’t been feeling well, but at least a few weeks.

She pushed that thought aside as well, and just concentrated on being with him completely.

Craig’s body was moving slowly, but his brain was still wrapped in the fog of a deep sleep. It registered the dark stillness of the room and the fact that it was not yet morning. His hand had picked up the phone so he must have heard it ring and answered, but all he could bring into focus was the sound of a woman’s voice on the other end and words, “Somebody broke in.”

“Again?”

“I-I’m scared and…again?”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shook his head. It wasn’t his stepmother’s voice. “Who is this?”

“L-Lisa. Lisa Harrington.”

Things were starting to come into focus, although his body was still moving ahead of his brain. His pants were on and he was searching for a shirt before he even managed to reply. “Did you call 911?”

“Uh, no. Look—” A high note of panic hadn’t just crept in to her voice, it had taken over completely. “Can you come? I don’t want just any cop and it’s…it’s about Donny.”

In the bed, Ashlyn rolled over and looked at him. He sighed. “Okay. Give me directions.”

Lisa rattled off the address, but he stopped partway through writing it down. Same house. She’d never moved after Hope’s murder. The directions were simple enough, although she didn’t live in his jurisdiction.

“You know where I live, Lisa. It’s going to be at least three quarters of an hour, maybe a bit more.” She was south of Langley and even at this time of day, without traffic, it would be a solid forty-five-minute drive.

“It’s okay. I, uh, I’m sorry for phoning at home. I don’t know who else to call.”

His annoyance dissipated as he told her he’d be there as soon as he could and hung up. The waif he’d met not even twenty-four hours earlier looked barely capable of standing up, never mind fending off an intruder, and when people were scared they didn’t think straight. He could call Langley RCMP—he should call them—but he’d spent enough time looking at the Harrington file. In a manner of speaking, he was even assigned to it. Zidani had ordered him to review the details. If Lisa was right, and this was connected to Donny’s parole hearing…

But how would she know that?

Ashlyn sat up and started to climb out of bed.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as he kissed her forehead.

“That case I was looking at files on earlier? There’s been a break-in and it might tie in to that. I have to go check it out.” A glance at the clock, which was back on, told him it was just after 4
A.M.
“I doubt I’ll be back before you’ve gone to work. Can we try for lunch or dinner today? Date at the mall, pick up the Christmas decorations? You said something about friends of yours getting a special ornament for every Christmas they share.”

She nodded.

“Maybe we could do something like that.”

“Sounds good.” Ashlyn smiled, but her words were heavy with sleep. Craig gave her another kiss and left.

When Craig arrived at the Harrington residence, even in the predawn light he had a clear impression of a tiny house that had grown tired of standing at least a decade earlier, and that was probably being generous. The roof sagged, the screen door was partially unhinged, one of the steps leading to the small porch was cracked. The light was one of those motion-sensitive wall-mounted, battery-operated lights, and the bulb inside must have been the lowest wattage possible, because when Craig turned off his vehicle he couldn’t see much more than a faint glow on the metal screen door, which dangled ineffectively in front of the entrance.

He skipped the broken step with ease. Lisa opened the door before he even raised his hand to knock. Her right hand was wrapped in a towel that was covered with blood.

“What happened?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, Craig said, “We should call for paramedics or get you to a hospital.”

“No. It looks worse than it is. I just cut it on some glass.”

“At least let me take a look.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Lisa held up her hand to stop him from following and disappeared down the hall. When she returned her hand was clumsily wrapped in a bandage. “See? Fine.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he decided not to push it for a moment. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”