Maternal Instinct (10 page)

Nell nodded encouragement.

He rubbed his hands over his thighs. "Somebody—I think one of the secretaries—said she'd gotten a call from downstairs. Some crazy had a semiautomatic and was shooting the place up. We should get out."

"Did anybody?" Hugh asked.

"We argued about whether it was a hoax. And if it wasn't, how the hell we could get out. What if the elevator stopped at the wrong floor and the guy gunned us all down standing there? And the stairs… I mean, maybe he'd hear us and take us down in the stairwell." He made a sound. "It just sounded so … out there. Couldn't be happening."

"What did everybody do?"

His laugh was choppy. He didn't want to meet either of their gazes. "Argued some more. Could we disable the elevator? Lock the doors to the stairs? Somebody was sure they couldn't be locked, that they're designed to be fire escapes, and somebody else thought we should leave them unlocked if people flee from downstairs—although why the hell would they come
up?"
Now he did look at them, as if for answers. Neither had them.

"We talked too long. We suddenly saw that the elevator was rising. Everybody dove into their offices. I felt like an idiot, but I pulled binders out of that cabinet to make space. Jerome…" He rubbed his hands on his thighs again and rocked slightly. His face worked. "He'd already gone back to work. It was a goddamn joke, he said. He had work to do."

"And then?" Nell prompted gently.

"I heard the elevator door, then footsteps." St. Clair was sweating again. "I was scared
sh
—" He swallowed the obscenity with an apologetic glance at Nell. "I tried to squeeze in that damn cupboard without the metal clanging. I heard this one sound. Not even a word. Just the beginnings of a strangled yell, and then a gunshot." His body shuddered at the recollection. He was rocking again, sweating, staring inward. "I should have done something. Jumped the bastard. I just crouched there."

"Did the footsteps continue into your office?"

He shook his head. "I didn't even hear him leave. I know there was another gunshot. I guess that was when he killed himself. At the time, I thought he'd gotten someone else."

"You stayed there," Hugh said unemotionally. "You didn't leave the cupboard until we came."

"I was afraid." He blinked hard.

Nell stirred. "As we said at the time, sir, you did the smart thing. You weren't armed. What could you have done?"

"That stupid son of a bitch," he said softly. "A joke."

He knew nothing else. He hadn't looked at a clock or worn a wristwatch; Nell noted that he didn't have one on now.

He saw them out a different man than had greeted them, diminished by shame, she thought, as much as grief. Nell saw him pinch the bridge of his nose when he thought she wasn't looking, and she knew he would cry when they were gone.

She rode down the elevator with her partner in silence. Only when they were in the squad car did she turn her head.

"What was that about?"

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You were rude from the minute we walked in."

"You're imagining things. I was never anything but civil." He paused. "Unlike you."

"What?"
She stared at him incredulously.

"Find him attractive? Or was it just his condo you liked?"

Temper simmering, Nell snapped, "I cannot believe you just said that."

Suddenly Hugh's teeth showed. "You were flirting, damn it!"

"I was not flirting!" she shouted. "And he's not a suspect!"

"Which is it?" he asked silkily.

She rarely had an impulse toward violence. Now she did. "I have no interest in St. Clair. I admired his view."

"Ah. Is that what it was?"

Rage gave her a headache. "I said or did nothing that you would have even noticed if I were a man. Just because I'm a woman, you assume—"

Anger glittered in his blue eyes. "Today is the first time I've assumed anything."

Clutching the steering wheel until her knuckles ached, she snapped, "I wouldn't say that. Just because I was drunk—" Appalled, she slammed to a stop. Too late.

Hugh's face changed, although she couldn't have guessed what he was thinking.

Until he said gutturally, "So it was my fault?"

"No," Nell whispered. "I didn't mean…" She
wanted
it to have been his fault. She wanted somebody to blame.

"Then don't say it." He bit off every word as though they tasted bad.

She made a ragged sound. "We aren't going to talk about this."

The movement taut and even violent, he shoved his legs out in front of him and turned his head to look out the window, as though the sight of her was unbearable. "Then don't."

This was her fault. She couldn't deny it.
She
had violated her own rule.

It was a minute before she could reach for the key to start the car with a nearly steady hand. She knew where they were going next, thank God, so she didn't have to speak to him.

She tried to cover
the purchase of the pregnancy kit with a basket full of other items—shampoo and conditioner, makeup, a cute
scrunchie
for Kim's hair, a can of olives that had been on sale at the end of an aisle, magazines randomly chosen.

The clerk, flirting over her shoulder with another teenager, paid no attention to the pregnancy kit. She and lots of her friends probably had sex all the time, Nell thought tartly, and therefore had frequent cause to check for consequences.

When Nell unlocked the back door at home and let herself in, she heard a flurry of movement from the living room.

"Mom?" her daughter called.

"Who else?" Nell retorted, carrying the groceries she'd also bought on the way home into the kitchen.

"Hi!" Kim bounced into the kitchen, her smile glowing. "Did you have a good day?"

Nell eyed her with suspicion. "What—"

Colin Cooper slouched into the kitchen.

"Oh," Nell said without enthusiasm. "Colin's here." His presence explained the rustling from the living room and Kim's brilliant smile. They'd been making out and had to rearrange clothing and limbs before Mom appeared. Nell forced a pleasant tone. "How are you, Colin?"

The rangy, six-foot boy, currently sporting spiky orange hair, jerked a shrug, his gaze sliding to Kim. "I'm good," he said, something smug in his tone.

Nell just bet he was. She gritted her teeth and turned to put groceries away.

"Cool!" Kim said, pulling the
scrunchie
out of the drugstore bag. "Is this for me?"

Nell lunged the few feet across the kitchen and snatched up the bag. "This is all mine." She sounded … odd, breathless, eliciting a startled glance from Kim. Nell tried to smile. "The
scrunchie
is a consolation prize."

"Oh." Kim
blinked
. "
Jeez
,
Mom
.
Did you think I was going to steal your makeup or something?"

No, my home pregnancy kit.

"Don't be silly." This time, Nell admired her own light tone. "Would you put those groceries away while I go change out of my uniform? Then I'll get dinner on. Colin, can you stay?"

"Um … well, I guess." He craned his neck to try to see into the grocery bags. "I mean, I don't know…"

She interpreted his hemming and hawing correctly. "We're having hamburgers and potato salad."

His face cleared. "Oh, cool. Yeah! Sure!"

Safely in her back bedroom with her bag, Nell locked herself in the bathroom. She opened the box and read the instructions. Simple enough. She could do it right now. It didn't take that long.

Except… She did have to go back to the kitchen, make dinner and pretend everything was fine. Probably everything
would
be fine. But, just in case, she'd need time alone to deal with the fix she was in. She wouldn't want to face Kim, let alone the boyfriend.

Later, she decided, and shoved the bag in a vanity drawer underneath a tray of makeup. Relief at having an excuse to procrastinate mingled with a new serving of anxiety.

The evening seemed excruciatingly long. Colin wolfed his food and gave monosyllabic answers to Nell's questions, leaving the burden of conversation to her and Kim, who looked anxious and defensive whenever Nell tried to elicit any response from him.

After he'd finally—thank heavens!—left, Kim whirled to face her mother. "You don't have to interrogate Colin every time you see him!"

Floored, Nell said, "I was making conversation."

"Oh, sure," her daughter sneered. "'So, you're not working this summer, Colin?'" she mimicked. "'Jobs can be such good experience. Are you looking at colleges yet? Are your parents hoping you'll go to college?'"

"It's bad to talk about what he hopes to do in the future? You and I talk about it all the time!"

"That's different! You're my mother! You're not his!"

"Amazingly, I am aware that I didn't give birth to him," Nell said dryly. "Even if he is around enough for me to start wondering."

Kim made a furious sound. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No," Nell said on a sigh. She should; she remembered well enough what it was like to be a teenager. But in this case… "No, I'm afraid I don't."

"You embarrassed me! Like, is he supposed to give some kind of correct answers before he's acceptable as a boyfriend?"

"I never said…"

"You didn't have to!" Kim snapped, big eyes accusing on her mother's face. "I am
so
humiliated."

Nell had had enough. Jaw tight, she said, "You know, I'm not crazy about him. It's true. But in this case, I was trying to be nice. I also asked about the paint job Colin's doing on his car, when football practice starts, and whether his parents have started the addition on their house. By the time I asked about college, I was getting desperate for topics. But you hear what you want to hear. So go ahead,
be
humiliated. But while you're wallowing in it, clean the kitchen, too. I," she concluded acerbically, "am going to bed."

"Mo-
om
!" Kim whined. "I already put away the—"

Nell walked out.

Ten minutes later, she stared at the tiny strip of paper, turning a rosy, optimistic hue.
No. Please, no.

Her stomach lurched and she dropped the strip, falling to her knees in front of the toilet. She wanted to throw up but couldn't. Instead, she laid her head on her crossed forearms and cried.

Chapter 5

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^
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H
ugh guessed
he'd blown it the other day when he accused Nell of flirting with that chicken-livered St. Clair. Maybe she hadn't been, the way she said. Maybe she had, and it wasn't any of his business. Either way, he should have kept his mouth shut.

She'd essentially not spoken to him since. She showed up every morning and did her job. If he asked a question, she answered. Usually he had to ask it twice. She'd have her head turned and be staring out the side window of their unit, either in a snit or ten thousand miles away, he wasn't sure which. The second time, he'd raise his voice, and she'd turn a vague gaze his direction. He always had the feeling she didn't quite see him.

Didn't want to see him.

Truthfully, he was starting to get a little pissed about it. Why was it okay for her to give him hell when she didn't like something he did, but he was supposed to trot docilely into the doghouse because he did the same?

To hell with her! he thought irritably, when she ignored his latest attempt to start a working dialogue.

He growled words better unspoken under his breath.

Nell turned that blank stare on him. "Did you say something?"