Deadly Dreams (12 page)

“I can imagine.” She could, too well. There had been two occasions in the past when she’d feared she’d be doing the same for Hannah. Twice when her latest scumbag husband had nearly beaten the woman to death. After the last time, she’d made sure the man would never harm her mother again. Having her eventually die of old age would be a blessing, after the death she’d barely been delivered from.

But this man wouldn’t understand that. Few would.

“I’ve been using the hoop occasionally.” She gestured toward the battered rim. “Didn’t realize anyone would be around. I won’t bother you again.”

His smile was back. He waved away her response. “No problem. I just wanted to see who was out here. Never expected it to be you, though.” He shook his head. “Chandler the Handler, Big Ten Player of the Year, in my driveway. Wow.”

Embarrassed, she began making her escape. “Thanks for the use of the hoop. Maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

His face lit up like a kid’s at Christmas. “That’d be great. I’d like that.”

As she turned to walk swiftly to her mother’s house, it occurred to her that snippets of her past had a way of ambushing her when she least expected it. Basketball was all that had saved her at one time. But she doubted she could go anywhere else in the state and be recognized as a former NCAA all-star athlete.

As memories went, that one seemed harmless, if distant. And she wondered as she walked back into the house when that part of her life had begun to seem so very far away.

“I’m sorry, Nate. Tucker isn’t here.”

A splinter of ice-cold fear pierced his heart. Nate stared hard at Debbie Lipsky’s freckled face and prayed he’d misheard her. “Not here?”

“Kristin came for him about an hour ago.” She looked uncertain. Debbie had been babysitting Tuck for three years. She knew some of the backstory about his mother. “She usually does pick him up, and you didn’t mention that you’d be back for him.” Her voice faltered. “Should I have called you first?”

His throat felt tight. It took effort to force an even tone. “No, that’s all right. Sounds like Kristin and I just got our wires crossed. How was his day?”

But he wasn’t really focused on the journal the woman showed him. She kept careful daily notes on all the children in her care. His mind was on her earlier words.

So Kristin was back. She hadn’t been home this morning. Hadn’t been answering her cell. No surprise there. He’d gotten Tucker up earlier than usual in order to get him to the babysitter on time. In turn, Debbie saw that he got to school each morning. He hadn’t seen this sort of behavior from his sister in over a year.

But he’d seen plenty of it before that.

He left after assuring Debbie once again that she’d done nothing wrong. And then drove home with a baseball-sized ball of lead sitting in his chest. He’d been to hell and back with Kristin, but those times were behind them.

He had the thought and tried the entire trip home to convince himself that it was true.

But the wave of relief that hit him when he pulled into his drive and saw Kristin’s slightly dilapidated red Mazda in the open garage called him a liar. She must have been dropped off at home, then taken it to pick up Tuck. The fact barely registered. His muscles tensed at the thought of another confrontation with his sister. Kristin’s journey on and off the wagon had been a long and arduous one. And trust was harder to rebuild each time it was broken.

They both had cause to know that.

He parked in the drive and, hearing Tucker in the backyard, headed in that direction. The gate in the six-foot fence he’d erected around the perimeter took a moment to open. He’d made sure the lock was Tucker proof. Sometimes it gave him a bit of trouble, too.

The picture that met his eyes when he walked through the gate had some of the tension easing from him. Utter normalcy. At least on the surface. Tuck was swinging, his face tipped skyward, a beatific smile on his face. Kristin had her arms folded across her chest as she watched him. It was chilly enough for a jacket. The child had a hoodie zipped up but Nate’s sister was wearing jeans and a tee. Her long hair, as dark as his own, hung loose to her shoulders.

Experience had taught him to play the scene low-key. “Hey.” He strolled up to his younger sibling.

“Hi.” Her glance slid by him.

“I just left Debbie’s. I didn’t know you were picking Tucker up.”

“I pick him up every afternoon.” The words were couched in defensiveness.

He could feel his muscles tighten again. “You do.” He gave a slow nod. “Thing is, you usually drop him off in the morning, too. You didn’t, so I didn’t know what to expect this afternoon.”

Her lips tightened. “Let it go, Nate. Just this once, let it go.”

He blew out a breath, wished for a beer. “Know what time I got home last night? Close to midnight.”

She looked at him then, her eyes wide and worried. “Midnight? I thought . . .” Biting her lip, her words trailed off.

“How long was he alone?” It took a great deal of care to make sure there was no censure in his tone.

“I figured you’d be home anytime. I never dreamed . . . Was he asleep?”

His gaze held hers. “What do you think?”

Kristin hugged herself tighter and returned to watching her son. “I would have asked if you’d been here.”

“He can’t be left alone, Kris. No five-year-old can, but Tucker especially. He needs constant supervision.”

“Do you think I don’t get that?” When the boy frowned and looked in their direction, Kristin smiled and waved at him. Then she lowered her voice. “I needed a break. Sometimes I just need time for myself. If that makes me weak, if that makes me
unfit
, then there you go.”

It was like feeling his way in a minefield. He was never certain which words would result in detonation. “Understood. He can be a handful at times. But there’s a list of trustworthy babysitters next to the phone. You could have called one . . .”

She laughed, an ugly, bitter sound that was so at odds with her youthful looks. “Not from Tucker. At least not only from him. I needed a break from
you
.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit coat. Was reminded when the jacket pulled open that he hadn’t taken off the shoulder harness and weapon to lock them in the trunk as he normally did. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sinking sun and said nothing for a few minutes. Because it was never wise to arm Kristin with more ammunition to use against him, he wouldn’t let her know how deeply her words wounded.

“Well,” he managed finally. “You’re not exactly the first woman to tell me that. Although the last one used a bit more finesse.” His attempt at humor fell flat.

Her jaw was quivering. And he felt his usual flare of panic at the thought of a female’s ensuing tears. “I’ve been checking in to classes at the local community college.”

Staggered, he could only stare at her. “What? When?”

She lifted a shoulder, rubbed fiercely at one eye. “Think I want to work at KFC for the rest of my life? I thought I had a good chance at a couple scholarships they offer. Actually thought that for once in my life, something would go my way. I was wrong. I didn’t get either of them.”

It took a moment to gather his fragmented thoughts. He had no idea she’d even considered returning to college. “Honey, if you want to enroll for classes, I can help with tuition . . .”

“I don’t
want
your help!” Her tone was no less ferocious for being quiet. “Don’t you understand how tired I am of Saint Nate riding to the rescue? Of depending on you for
everything
? You cast a damn large shadow, big brother, and I’ve lived in it all my life. I’m sick of it. Sick to death of being the fucked-up mess of a sister that the perfect all-star, hero big brother has to rescue.”

His own temper bubbled to the surface. “Watch your mouth around him.” He wasn’t going to get drawn into the familiar argument. It never failed to tug on dual emotions of anger and guilt. And he was
trying
, for chrissakes. Shouldn’t he get credit for that?

“That’s right.” Her mouth pulled down wryly. She shoved the tips of her fingers into the pockets of her jeans. “You’re the responsible one. You’re the only one with Tucker’s best interests at heart.”

“Well, I’m not the one that walked out and left a disabled five-year-old alone at night,” he snapped. He cursed himself as soon as the words left his tongue. As soon as he saw the bleak expression in his sister’s eyes.

“You ought to be thanking me. Last night just gave you more material for your lawyer’s case file. You are going to tell him about that, right? Use it to try and take my son away from me for good?”

His throat was tight. “That’s not what I want.” What he wanted was to believe Kristin was off alcohol forever. That she was ready to make the kind of decisions that meant she could be trusted with Tuck’s welfare. That Nate and she could shake free of the slights of their childhoods and have a real relationship.

But if he’d learned one thing, it was that you didn’t always get what you wanted.

She walked by him. He heard her a moment later fumbling with the lock on the gate. But he didn’t go to help. She’d made it pretty clear what she thought of his assistance.

Bleakly, he watched his nephew swing higher and higher, and wondered why the most complex, intricate case at work always seemed simple in comparison to his family dynamics.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he jerked around, already going for his weapon. Seeing Hans behind him, Johnny relaxed, but only a little. “Motherfucking Christ. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

The older man had the balls to laugh. “Shit, you’re jumpy. If this place makes you so nervous, let’s go inside.”

They were in the alley next to their usual bar. Johnny didn’t want to be seen inside again so soon. He knew paranoia had him by the short hairs, but shit, the situation called for a little paranoia.

And what he had to tell Hans couldn’t be overheard by anyone.

“You came alone, right?” He peered past Hans into the street in front of the tavern. The others were spooked enough. They didn’t need to hear this. Especially Jonas.

“Christ.” Hans eyed him carefully, the humor fading from his expression. “What’s going on? I’ve never seen anything get you this worked up before.”

“Worked up?” He gave a short laugh, dug in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He’d been chain-smoking waiting here for Hans to show up. “Yeah. You might get worked up, too, after you hear what I have to say. You told me to check in with Sean, right? And you were going to call Johnson. You ever do that? Get in touch with him?”

Hans accepted the cigarette Johnny offered and the light. Drawing in deeply, he exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Tried. The cell number I had for him was disconnected. Haven’t had time to track down his new one yet.”

“Don’t bother. He doesn’t have a new number.” Johnny broke off to light his own cigarette. Noted with a tinge of disbelief that his hand was shaking. Just a little. “He’s dead.”

“What?” Hans’s jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Shaking his head, Johnny told him the rest. “Car accident eight months ago. Went off a bridge on a gravel road in the next county. His widow has no idea why he was even there. And get this.” He used the cigarette to point for emphasis. “The newspaper reports it as a ‘fiery car crash.’ If the accident didn’t kill him, the fire afterward sure as hell did.”

“Fire.” Hans stared at him through a drift of smoke. Then he shook his head. “Okay. That happens. Cars go up after a bad wreck. Took a couple of those calls myself, back in my rookie days.”

“Yeah, I would have thought the same thing if I hadn’t tried calling Sean first. Same deal.” Just the memory had ice water washing through his veins. “Cell number belonged to someone else. Couldn’t find a new one for him, so I went to the Internet, right? Think I’ll use white pages and start tracking him down. His name pops right up on the search page.” Because he needed the nicotine, he took a long drag before continuing. “In the obituaries.”