Twilight (14 page)

“Are you in trouble?”

“No. Cal, really … it’s an old house. Glass breaks. I called before I thought.” She twisted her hands. “Besides, if someone did break in, they know now I have nothing to steal.” She wished he would stop looking like that. How could she explain? How could she tell him what a failure she’d been, what a farce she’d been living? That it wasn’t over, that she had been oblivious, ignorant, irresponsible.

Though his gaze didn’t shift, he answered flatly, “I’ll sweep up. Can you find some cardboard to seal the window?”

She dumped a box that held the children’s shoes in the coat closet and brought it to him. He pulled it apart and taped it to the window frame. She was ashamed of the comfort she took watching him work. The way he moved, the way the muscles flexed in his shoulders … He handed back the tape. “Get someone out to replace that glass tomorrow.”

She nodded.

“So did you torque someone off? Serve Maple’s rotten fish or something?”

She smiled faintly.

“Seriously. Did you turn down a proposition?”

“Only yours.” She tried to speak lightly.

“That wasn’t a proposition.”

“What was it?”

“A kiss. Just a kiss.”

Laurie dropped her face into her hands. “I can’t think.” She didn’t want to. Why would Brian break her window? Was it Brian? And why was she protecting him? Or was it herself, her pride?

Cal took hold of her arms. “What do you want me to do?”

She shook her head, still covering her face.
Hold me. Stay with me. Say the things you used to say that made everything all right. Take away the time and the hurt and the mistakes
. She said nothing.

He rubbed his hands gently up her arms and across her shoulders, soothing the stress from her muscles. “I can stay here tonight.”

“No.”

“I mean sleep on the couch. It’s a sleeper, isn’t it?”

She stepped back. “It’s not necessary.” She wanted it too much.

He tugged on her hair. “Forget necessary.”

Her thumb tapped on her thigh. “Thanks for coming. I just needed a friend.” She was surprised it was true. As she walked him to the door, she realized she had never considered him a friend. From the start he had engendered emotions too potent to be friendship. Now she saw through his jesting to something solid in his core. She wished she’d seen it sooner.

Cal’s jeep fired grudgingly in the frigid air. He shouldn’t be leaving. He should have called the police and ignored Laurie’s protests. He had a bad feeling about this. Prank? Accident? Windows didn’t break themselves. If he didn’t have such bad history with Sergeant Danson, he’d go to the station now. He considered it, then shook his head. She’d asked him not to. And maybe she had her reasons.

But Laurie’s tension had been thick as butter. Yeah, it was possible some kook had his eye on her. But from her reaction, her evasion, he guessed she’d brought this trouble with her. He also guessed—and this part wasn’t hard—that the answers would not come easily.

Mildred was sharp, and she’d pegged something he missed. Laurie was afraid. Of what? Or who? Her ex? Maybe. It was the logical starting point. She’d been very hazy on the details of their split, reluctant to discuss him at all. She didn’t look battered, but what did he know?

He popped the jeep in gear and jerked forward. Easing up to the light before his turn out of town, he saw a dark Firebird kill its lights at the end of the block. He noticed because, other than his own car, it was about the only vehicle on the road. The light changed, and he cruised through the intersection and turned onto the two-lane highway that led out to the sticks and increased his speed.

Suddenly a car darted onto the highway from the old utility road, and Cal yanked the wheel to avoid it, veered, and spiraled off. His jeep banked off the side, then rammed into the far edge of the ditch with a shower of gravel and a sickening thud. His forehead smacked the frame, and lightning shot across his vision.

He blinked, stunned, as something ran into his eye, then turned to see a car tearing down the highway without lights. The Firebird? Jamming the jeep into reverse, he ground the tires until they bit and lurched the jeep back to the road.

His head swam, and when his vision cleared, there was no sign of the other vehicle. He swiped the blood from his eye with the back of his hand, and felt a sharp, slicing pain in his forehead. Dropping his head back against the headrest, he groaned.

Laurie tried to sleep, but it was like trying to breathe under water. Why hadn’t she called the police? What if it was Brian? His audacity appalled her. Were there no limits? She may have strayed far from Grams’ hopes for her, but she had not stooped to illegal, destructive— She heard a sound and froze.

A moment later the heat came on in the radiator. She released her breath. If Brian thought he was above the law, if he wanted to risk his own life, that was his business. She would neither participate, nor condone, nor look the other way. She had Luke and Maddie to consider. They might be irrelevant to Brian, but they were everything to her.

How could he even think … But she couldn’t begin to get inside Brian’s head. How did you understand someone who thought life was a game? Who’d been handed everything, including the physique and charisma to mislead the most scrutinizing eye?

Oh, how she’d fallen for his deception. But no more. Maybe she shouldn’t have interfered, should simply have left. But there was the principle of it. She hadn’t gone to the police then, though she should have, but she’d been married to the man six years, long enough to know his threats were real. And how could she ever explain to Luke and Maddie?

No, she’d done what she had to do. If Brian was angry, let him see her face-to-face. She’d tell him again just exactly what she thought of a father who—

Maddie let out a high whine and started to cry. Instantly Laurie was out of bed and rushing to her side. “Don’t cry, honey. Mommy’s here. What’s the matter, baby?” She scooped her daughter up, covers and all, and dropped to a seat on the bed. “It’s okay, Maddie.” She looked frantically about the room for anything that might have startled the child. All was still.

Maddie opened dewy eyes. “A bad bird came in.” She wrapped her arms around Laurie’s neck. “It took Fluffy.”

Laurie spotted the dog in the rumpled covers. “No, look, Maddie. Here’s Fluffy, safe and sound.” She pressed the stuffed animal into Maddie’s arms. “It was only a dream.”

“I want to sleep with you.”

Laurie kissed Maddie’s head. “All right.” She carried her back to her own bed and climbed in with her. As Maddie nestled to her chest, Laurie found a drowsiness she hadn’t before. She fell asleep dreaming of birds crashing into the kitchen window. Maybe it wasn’t Brian at all.

Cal’s head throbbed like a hammered two-by-four when he awoke, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. He touched the tender spot, new blood dampening the crust. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten home last night. Obviously he hadn’t gone farther than the bed. Annie whined, thumping her tail and licking his ear. As he rose, pain shot through his forehead and up the back of his neck. Annie cocked her head, watching.

“Now I know how you felt a couple of days ago.” He staggered to the door and let her out, then changed direction to the kitchen. It would take more than coffee this morning. Morphine would be good. He groped through the cabinet, popped eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen, and drank from the glass he filled at the sink. He dropped his face into his hands, held his head until the vertigo passed, then saw the blood on his fingers. That it was still running meant the gash probably needed stitches.

He made his way to the bathroom mirror and confirmed his suspicion. After washing away the gore, he held a wad of cotton to his head while he dressed, then went to see Doctor Klein. He had seen the same doctor since he was twelve and wasn’t surprised by the reception he got. He should have come last night; he was asking for infection; he ought to be in bed.

Four stitches and a whole lecture later, Cal left. It was a compromise. He wouldn’t go to bed, but he’d take work easy today. No clowning around, Cal grinned to himself. And no driving, except to and from the station. That was okay. His neck and shoulders hurt like someone had worked him over with a crowbar, though everything was numbing nicely with the prescription pain-killer.

At the station, he slipped behind the cluttered desk and called Laurie. He caught her just going out. “Laurie, do you know anyone around here with a dark-colored Firebird?”

“I hardly know anyone here anymore. Why?”

She hadn’t paused at all as he’d expected her to. “One ran me off the road last night.”

Now she was quiet. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Oh, Cal …”

“Listen Laurie, can I take you somewhere tonight?” Now the silence was longer than he liked. If she refused he’d have to patrol her house. This wasn’t about him anymore—about what he wanted for them. Laurie was in trouble. If at least she were with him … “Come on. What can it hurt to take in a show or something?”

“I can’t ask Mom to keep the kids when I’m not working, and I don’t trust a sitter with … this other business.”

“How about Cissy? You could bring the kids there. She’d pay
you
.” The pause stretched. Had he pushed too hard? Had he read more into her call last night than she intended? What if she didn’t want his help?

“All right. Call me this evening.” She hung up.

Yes!
He’d gotten through. Eyes closed, he clenched his fist. If she were in trouble she might not want to tell him, but he’d get it out of her one way or another.

“Hallucinating, Morrison?” Rob walked in.

That was as close to a real jab as Rob had given him since his release. It felt good. Cal grinned. “Got a date.”

“Been that long, huh?”

“Stuff it, Kilmer.” Cal straightened in the chair. His sudden motion and the pain-killers made his head swim.

Rob leaned close. “What happened to you? You look a little peak-
ed
.”

“Your concern is touching. I had a run-in last night with a black Firebird. Some nut who thought he owned the road.”

“Huh. Hope you gave as good as you got.” Rob tossed a sticky pad on the table. “Rita left a message.”

Cal tore off the top sheet and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. When Rob left, Cal took out the note and dialed the behavioral health center. “Dr. Rita James, M.D., Psychiatry, hope to the hopeless and pillar of the fallen, please.” He leaned back, crossed his ankles on the desk, and waited.

Rita came on. “Why does my receptionist always know it’s you?”

“Why, Dr. James, need you ask?”

“Cal, are you on something?”

“Tylenol Codeine.” He pulled the bottle from his pocket. “Courtesy of Dr. Klein.”

“What for?”

“Head injury.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I found a ditch with my jeep last night. The doctor laced my forehead and shelled out the drugs. Now, per our agreement, I’m letting you know.”

“How many?”

Cal shook the bottle. “Two left. But I’ve had so many already I could be seeing double.”

Rita clicked her tongue, and he laughed.

“Just kidding. I’m well in line, Doctor.”

“The trouble with you, Cal, is you don’t take mental health seriously.”

“That’s because I’m already on
the dark side
.”

Rita huffed. “I’m not taking the bait, Cal. This is your official follow-up check-in call. Are you doing all right? No more incidents?”

“If you mean have I found myself under the table fighting imaginary fires, no, not lately.” Not since he’d shown Laurie what he could do.

“Good.”

“Wanna play poker Friday?”

She laughed. “Sure. I could use a few bucks.”

“Pass the word to Reggie, will you?” He hung up.

It wasn’t a bad idea using the day to catch up on paper work. That end of his job was not his long suit, and it was more of a mess than he thought. Enforced stability was the only thing that kept him at it. It hurt too much to stand up.

Six hours later he called it a day. He’d been dozing for half of it anyway. According to the prescription he was due another pill, but he wanted to be sharp tonight. He left the pain-killers in his pocket and headed down the stairs.