The Off Season (17 page)

“You’re in no condition to know what you need. Or want. If it had been Renee who walked through that door—”

“That would’ve—it would’ve been bad,” she said, certain Renee would have gone nuclear, regardless of how clear she’d made it that she was completely finished with her ex. “Especially after—I should’ve told you before.”

“Told me what?” he asked.

Too shaken to hold back any longer, she said, “The two of us had a huge argument last night. Right outside the hospital as I was leaving work.”

“A fight about what?” he asked, mouth tightening in a look of annoyance. “I thought she was done with blaming Lilly, especially now that Jacob’s so much better.”

“She did apologize for scaring her,” Christina told him. “And she asked to come back to work for me. I gather she could really use the money.”

Harris nodded.

“But I told her I’ve asked my sister to watch Lilly. Or more to the point, that I couldn’t hire her back again, not after what I saw.” Christina related the rest of the conversation, giving him every difficult detail until her face was burning.

But in the back of her mind, she knew she was using the subject to fill the empty space between them. Hard as it was to talk about Renee, it was still easier than coming to grips with how she felt about what had just happened. And how she ached for him to pull her into his arms and kiss away the doubt and terror that were eating her alive.

Harris had a hell of a lot to answer for in his life, but reaching for a woman drugged on pain meds, kissing her when it was obvious she was still reeling with the shock of an attempt on her life, ranked right up there, especially when the town he’d sworn to safeguard had a killer on the loose.

The killer of the first police officer Seaside Creek had lost in its long history.

As the person who knew Christina best, it had made sense for him to question her as a potential witness—or it would have if he could have made himself ignore the way he felt whenever he was with her. Forget the way he’d begun obsessing over past mistakes and speculating about how different things might’ve turned out if he’d followed the instincts that kept telling him how right they were together.

But he couldn’t forget, no more than he could roll back time to change things. And he couldn’t risk blurring the line between the personal and the professional again. Not unless he wanted to lose what little respect he had for himself. Or complicate an already difficult relationship with another woman, with whom he’d share custody of his son for years to come.

“For what it’s worth,” he told Christina, “I think you’re right about Renee needing some help coping. I thought it was just me she’s been so pissed at, but I see now, her anger’s spilling over.”

“Will you talk to her about it?” Christina asked. “The counseling, I mean.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, “for Jacob’s sake. I don’t want her frustrations slopping over onto him, too.”

“You can’t think she’d hurt him. She loves Jacob.”

“I’ve never thought it for a second.” His ex certainly hated and blamed Harris for her problems and poor choices, but he’d never seen her be anything but loving and protective of their son.

“And I really can’t imagine her being violent,” Christina said. “Certainly not the kind of violent that could involve attacking Officer Fiorelli or setting a house on fire with Lilly and me inside.”

He tried to think about it logically, to distance himself from the anger, frustration, and regret he felt toward Renee.

“You’re right,” he said. “For one thing, she called me earlier, said she’d heard about the fire and Fiorelli’s murder. I didn’t have much time to talk, but she seemed genuinely relieved to hear that you and Lilly had escaped and that the doctors were saying you’d be all right. And even if she was faking her concern, she’d never risk losing custody of Jacob. Especially not now, with him just out of the hospital.”

Christina studied him, her brown eyes thoughtful. And beautiful, in spite of all the nicks and bruises she had picked up and the ash that dulled her hair. “Do you still love her?” she asked.

If anyone else had asked, he would have ducked the question or snarled and told her it was none of her damn business. Instead, he admitted, “I don’t know that I ever really loved her. I tried to very hard, figuring that if I went through the right motions, did the right things, the rest would come.”

“Why?” she asked. “I mean, why get involved with Renee in the first place? The two of you—I mean, she’s always been very pretty, but her personality and yours—”

Harris snorted, remembering how he’d been warned off by more than one friend about the sharpness of Renee’s tongue and the swiftness of her judgments. “By the time I’d finished with the surgeries, the rehab, and the award ceremonies they insisted on, all I wanted was to get back home, back to normal. The people here, God love ’em, gave me a hero’s welcome, a job, even this great old house they took up a collection for and renovated themselves, but I didn’t have a home, not really. And with my family all gone, I guess I just set out to sink down whatever roots I could to keep me from flying off the edge.”

She nodded, a pained look tightening the flesh around her eyes. “I wanted—wanted to tell you how very sorry I was to hear about your parents after their accident. And how—how relieved I was to find out you weren’t with them when it happened.”

“Thanks, but I should go now,” he said, his words suddenly hard as chips of flint. He couldn’t bear her sympathy, especially when the emptiness he’d felt without her had been the reason he’d enlisted. The reason he hadn’t been there when his mother had most needed him, to stop his father from insisting on driving to his own dying brother’s bedside, despite having a blood alcohol three times the legal limit. Harris had carried the weight of that guilt for fifteen years now, blaming himself, and sometimes, at his lowest points, Christina.

Do your job now. That’s all. And whatever the hell you do, don’t make the mistake of touching her again.

“I’ve gotta get back to the station,” he explained. “I have an investigation to get back to. In the meantime, I’ve got the staff here keeping a close eye on any visitors, and I’ll send an officer over to watch your room as soon as I can spare one.”

“I imagine they’ll cut me loose with a prescription this afternoon—Lilly, too, if everything checks out all right. Then I can get back and—”

She blinked hard, her eyes stricken.

“What is it?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Max. My dog. Did he—did the firefighters find him?”

He shook his head, an unwelcome pang of sympathy hitting hard. “Not that I’ve heard. But it’s possible—maybe somehow he found his way out. Animals sometimes—”

“I didn’t even want him. He was Doug’s idea. Doug’s dog. But I ended up being the one who fed him, the one who sneaked him treats and made time for him—and pretty soon, he was mine, heart and soul.”

Harris thought back to the flash he’d seen just before he’d spotted Fiorelli’s car. A flash that could’ve been a greyhound.

He considered telling Christina but remembered how cold and wet it had been that night, how often patrols found animals on the road killed by passing traffic. He’d tell his guys to keep an eye out just in case, he decided, but as for offering her false hope, somehow it seemed too cruel.

“I’m sorry, Christina. I’ve got a soft spot for big dogs, too.”

She nodded in answer, looking so miserable that he quickly changed the subject.

“Will you go to your mom’s place?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s kind of a mess right now, with the renovation stuff, but she’s got that on hold anyway until she’s back home to supervise the contractors.”

“Can’t blame her there.”

“Me neither, not after all the issues she’s had,” Christina said, “but the old place is still home, and after what we’ve been through, home’s what we all need.”

“So Annie will be coming with you?”

“Under the circumstances, I’m sure my mother won’t mind.” Christina’s mouth puckered as she thought about it. “Well, maybe she will a little, considering how long it took her to get Annie to move out in the first place.”

Harris snorted, but the comment reminded him of a question he had for Christina. “What was your sister doing in your rental car last night?”

“She said she’d cover a sick friend’s shift at the Shell Pile last night, and I didn’t want her going out in that little beater of hers.”

He stared at Christina, trying to figure out whether she was lying to him. Or whether she’d been lied to. “You sure she said the Shell Pile?”

“Definitely the Shell Pile. She said they were trying to stay open till midnight if the weather held. Why?”

“Because the board of health shut the place down last week. They can’t reopen until they get everything back up to code. Owner told me it’ll be June at least, if he can score the credit he’ll need for the upgrades.”

“But—I must be confused,” Christina said, color flaming in her cheeks. “Maybe from the anesthesia. Or the—”

“Or maybe because your sister deliberately misled you about where she went.”

Christina blinked hard, then shook her head. “I’m sure it’s a mistake, that’s all. Or at worst a white lie. She could be seeing someone, maybe someone she’s worried I won’t think is good enough. But then, who could be? She’s my baby sister.”

She smiled, clearly trying to make out like it was no big deal. But if Christina was trusting her sister with her child, there were things she ought to know.

“You know that bar’s got a reputation, don’t you?” he asked before carefully stepping into what he knew would be a minefield. “You know your sister does, too?”

“What?” she demanded, her eyes blazing. “First you’re accusing her of lying, and now what? You’re saying she’s—she’s—”

“Not drugs or solicitation or anything like that—”

“
Solicitation?
Annie’s no prostitute.”

“I told you I’m
not
saying that. But there’s been a lot of flirting. Stirring up fights. And hanging out with men with less-than-stellar reputations. Including Reginald Edgewood.” Harris scowled at the mention of his least favorite city council member.

“Who?”

“You might not remember him. He was older than us by ten, twelve years, but he was a legend, always talking himself out of trouble, wheeling and dealing his way to the right side of every pissant trade or hustle.”

“Wait a minute,” Christina said. “I think I met him a few weeks ago at this hospital fund-raiser that the head of my department twisted my arm to go to. While Mrs. Edgewood was giving this emotional talk about living with heart problems, he was trolling the edges of the room, trying to chat up all the doctors about investing in some new harbor development he’s building.”

“That’s him.” That was Reg Edge’s biggest deal yet, a large resort marina, which would supposedly include luxury homes and a yacht basin. “You don’t want to do that. Trust me. Federal permit problems out the wazoo.”

“Don’t worry. He already struck out by asking to meet with the financial decision maker in my family.” She rolled her eyes.

Harris shook his head. Definitely Reg.

“But this guy was way too old for Annie. And she wouldn’t want anything to do with a married man—”

“I’m afraid that when it comes to men, your sister doesn’t always make the wisest choices.”

Christina’s face had gone an angry red. “Apparently, it’s a weakness that runs in the family.”

Her tone left no doubt whose choice in men she was referring to. Or that she had any intention of repeating her mistake, despite her earlier lapse.

Though he’d come to the same conclusion, it still pissed him off enough that he fired back. “So, you figure that you got that from your adoptive mother or the one who left you . . . 
Katie
?”

“What the hell?” she exploded. “Who told you that? Oh, never mind. I don’t want to hear it. Just get out. Leave now.”

Realizing he’d let his pride talk, that he’d blindsided her with something so personal, it should have been handled with asbestos gloves, he said, “Shit, Christina. That was—”

When she grabbed the call button and stabbed at it repeatedly with a finger, he knew that he was only making things worse.

“Okay, I’m leaving. And I’m sorry. That was a low blow, and I didn’t—”

“Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t mean it. Just go. And don’t come back.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After everything he’d done for her, everything he’d dared, the bitch only cried when he told her. Cried and shouted at him, “I never wanted this! It has to stop and stop now.”

Beneath the level of the café’s table, he balled his fist, the unfairness of it making him want to pound her pretty face in. Her soft face, all pink and wet and splotchy, with no trace left of the coldness when she’d first said, “Hell,
yes
, I’d like to kill her.”

“You
told
me,” he reminded her, keeping his voice low so the other diners wouldn’t stare. Not that he gave a damn about what they thought, but he couldn’t afford the risk that one of them would reach for a phone. “You said you wished you had the guts.”

“But I didn’t mean for you to—you never understand me,” she cried, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Never have and never will. I think—I need this to be over.”

“Okay. No more,” he said quickly, just to get her to shut up. Because some things, once put into motion, took on a life of their own. A life no weak-willed woman could ever understand. He unfolded his right hand and slipped it inside the pocket of the jacket, fingering the hilt of a weapon he couldn’t seem to make himself give up, the way he had the gun. There was power in a cop’s blood, a raw-edged rush he’d never felt in his life, and he imagined that it lingered on the knife, no matter how he’d scrubbed it in bleach water.

The little bitch must have seen it, too, for her eyes were wet and bulging. Scared, he thought. Or maybe . . . was she angry instead? He’d never been that great at reading faces. All he knew was that this particular expression usually meant noise.

“I don’t mean just that,” she said, smearing her mascara badly in an attempt to blot her eyes with a napkin. “I mean—I mean us. We have to end this. It was fun at first, but now this—” She cut herself off and sat up straight, reared back from him a little. “You’re happy about it, aren’t you? Proud of what you’ve done?”

“What
we’ve
done,” he protested, though he was secretly pleased she had seen it. Understood what he was capable of. Once she had the money, he’d need her to remember. Need her to leave control of it to him.

“No.” As she pushed back from the table, the chair legs made a scraping sound that turned heads and drew their waitress’s eye. “I didn’t. This was your choice. It’s one thing, playing tricks on her, making her wish she’d never—but you’ve gone way too far. As always. That’s why this time I’m done with you. We’re finished.”

“You’re done with me?” He slapped the tabletop with both hands, making the silver next to his plate jump. Forgetting that they were in public, he exploded. “You’re fucking backing out on this
now
?”

“Don’t make a scene,” she whispered, raising shaking hands. “I didn’t mean it.”

But it was already too late, for he recognized the brisk stride of the manager heading his way. He’d seen that same determined walk many times before. To save face, he pretended not to see and instead pulled out his wallet. Plucking loose a couple of twenties, he dropped them on the table, then said loudly, “Let’s find ourselves another spot. Food’s crap here, anyway.”

Knowing what was good for her, she followed along meekly. Understanding that she didn’t get to say when this was over. She’d already long since crossed that bridge. There could be no turning back.

“Here she is,” crooned Annie as she carried Lilly into Christina’s hospital room the following afternoon, once the pediatrician and the doctor overseeing Christina’s treatment had both decided they were ready to be released. “With her hair all clean and shiny, and her beautiful new clothes.”

Christina smiled, knowing the adorable tunic and striped leggings had been chosen from among the hand-me-downs brought in by one of the nurses, whose own daughter had outgrown them. But as much as Christina appreciated all the help her coworkers had offered, she couldn’t help being reminded of the days she and Annie had spent in a Philadelphia hospital three decades before. Days when donated clothing, stuffed animals, and offers of adoption had come pouring in, in response to media coverage featuring the “lost girls” photos.

She still remembered how the nurses had vied to see who could brush her hair—as blonde as Lilly’s back then—or sneak her a homemade cookie and carry her to see her baby sister in the nursery, the way Annie carried Lilly now. Christina remembered how, with more adult attention than she’d ever known, she’d been giddy with excitement those first days after their rescue, as happily distracted as her daughter looked now as she wriggled her way down from her aunt’s embrace.

“Mommy, look!” Lilly cried, excitedly pointing out the sparkly cartoon princesses adorning the tops of both her hands. “I got stickers!”

Squatting beside the bed, Christina clutched Lilly in a one-armed embrace, so happy to see her daughter whole and smiling that hot tears leaked from her own eyes.

“I love you, baby. Thank God,” she said, careful to keep her bandaged left arm, now in a sling, from being squashed between them. “Thank God.”
And thanks to Harris,
she thought, cringing at the memory of how she’d ordered him from her room after he’d called her Katie.

“Why you crying, Mommy? Where your stickers?”

“They don’t give them out to grown-ups,” Christina managed as she wiped her eyes.

“I share.” Lilly solemnly peeled off a Pocahontas and pressed it onto Christina’s top, right over her heart.

“Thank you so much,” Christina told her, kissing the crown of Lilly’s head before carefully tucking the paper princess, who had lost most of her sticky backing, safely inside the sling.

Annie pulled Lilly’s jacket out of a shopping bag and said, “This stank like smoke, but the housekeeping department washed it for us.”

“Everyone’s been wonderful. I hope you thanked them for me,” Christina said, grateful that she wouldn’t have to scramble to buy Lilly another one immediately. And grateful for her sister’s help, too, though she was dying to get the chance to question her in private.

“I did,” said Annie, who wore the same clothing she’d had on the night of the fire. The same night she’d lied about her whereabouts. Fresh and clean as the outfit looked, someone must have washed it for her as well. “So, are you ready?”

“Just waiting for the nurse to print out a prescription with my discharge instructions.”

But it was a different nurse who came in—the short, plump Sheila Handy, who sometimes picked up extra shifts in the ER.

“So this is your little darling. Isn’t she precious?” she said, her silvery ringlets and broad hips so grandmotherly that rather than shrinking away, as she sometimes did with strangers, Lilly immediately warmed to her, showing off the stickers the other nurses gave her.

Blue eyes beaming up at Sheila, she asked, “You have stickers, too? For kids?”

“Of course I do,” said Sheila, clearly not caring that she was being played. “Would you like to come see my collection at the desk? I think I might have a couple of kitties. And a puppy sticker, too.”

“I have a puppy! Maxie!” Lilly blurted out, prompting Christina to exchange a stricken look with Annie, with whom she’d shared the news about Max when she’d stopped by the room last night.

“Okay if I borrow this little peanut for a minute, Mama?” Sheila asked.

“Sure thing. Just don’t go too far, please,” said Christina, who had on the clean yoga pants, long-sleeved T, and athletic shoes she’d kept stashed in a gym bag in her locker in the naive hope she would find the time to head over to the nearby YMCA after her shifts.

Once Sheila left with Lilly, Christina asked her sister, “So, you haven’t told her about—about the dog?”

Annie shook her head. “Of course not. I figured—I thought it would be best coming from you . . . once we know for sure.”

Christina prayed that whatever death had come to their sweet big boy had come without fear or pain. And that she could find some way to break the news of yet another loss to Lilly.

Not wanting to dwell on the heartbreak, Christina changed the subject. “So did you call and ask Mom’s neighbor whether she still has a spare key to the house?”

“Oh, I didn’t need to. I—um—I found my old key in my purse,” Annie said, a flush coloring her fair face. “But I won’t be staying. After I drop off you and Lilly over there, I’ll head over to Kym’s apartment.”

“What? Why?”

Annie shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “She says I can crash on her couch. She’ll let me use some of her clothes, too. We’re almost exactly the same size, right down to our shoes. Isn’t that crazy? We could almost be sisters.”

“You know what’s crazy?” asked Christina, oddly miffed by the comment. “You’re bailing on your real sister when I need you the most.”
Just like Renee warned me.

“I’m not bailing,” Annie said, looking tired and close to tears. “It’s just—I swore I was never sleeping in that house again. I can’t go crawling back now.”

“I know you and Mom have had your issues, but don’t be ridiculous. All your things were burned, for heaven’s sake. And I really do need your help with Lilly, especially until I’m able to lift with my left arm again.”

Annie hesitated, her gaze darting to the cell phone she was holding. “I’ve tried to call her three times,” she said, her mind still clearly on their mother. “I figured someone had to let her know you and Lilly were in the hospital, and her client’s house is toast.”

Christina grimaced before she picked up on Annie’s phrasing. “
Tried
to call her, you said?”

“It went straight to voice mail. I left a message one time, but I don’t know if it went through. Or if she’d bother listening if she saw my number.”

“Phone systems can be different overseas. Her cell’s not working, that’s all.”

“You don’t think maybe Mom’s got me blocked?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” That didn’t sound like their mother at all.

“She said it was for my own good, that she was cutting off my rent because she really loves me.”

“Mom does love you, Annie. More than you can ever know.” Maybe it took motherhood, whether by biology or a binding contract, truly to comprehend the willingness to do the hard things, from holding a screaming toddler for a vaccination to cutting off a daughter financially when her adolescence had long since passed its expiration date.

“She said she’s determined to make me a responsible, contributing member of society,” Annie recited. “Like you.”

Christina winced, hearing the pain in her sister’s voice.

“We all contribute in our own way,” she assured Annie before adding, “and I know you have a lot to offer. Too much to let yourself get sidelined by the wrong man.”

Annie looked up, her blue eyes stricken. “Wrong
man
? What?”

“I know you weren’t at the Shell Pile the other night,” Christina said, “so I figured you must’ve been with someone—someone you didn’t want me judging—”

“I—no.” Annie shook her head rapidly. “You have it all wrong. I told you I was covering for—”

“Don’t dig yourself in any deeper. Please.”
Can’t you see how badly I need to forgive you?
“Just tell me why.”

Looking at her with pained eyes, Annie laid a hand on her own chest. “So now you’re saying I’m a liar, too? I thought—I figured you were the one person I could always count on. The one human on the planet who would always take my side.”

“Oh, save it,” Christina said, realizing that she was being manipulated, with no more finesse than Lilly was using to coax more stickers from a nurse eager to fuss over her. Only Annie was no two-year-old, and Christina was no willing participant in the game. Or was no longer. “I know for a fact the Shell Pile’s closed for repairs.”

“Did I say I was going to the Shell Pile? Are you sure? Because I meant to say Harpoon Hattie’s. That’s where Kym’s been working these last few months. They get a lot more local traffic in the winter.”

Clamping her jaw, Christina looked away, not buying her story for a moment. And shaking with fear that Annie’s lie could somehow be linked to the fire that had taken place only a few hours after she’d left the house. Had Harris questioned her yet? Or was he about to?

“Please don’t be mad, Christina. I’ll tell you everything—I promise.”

But at that moment, the nurse returned with Lilly and Christina’s discharge instructions and prescription. So for now at least, Annie’s
everything
would have to wait.