The Off Season (9 page)

“It’s that case from last night,” Fiorelli said instead. “It can wait, though, if you need to—”

“You got something on our vandal?” Harris asked, forcing himself to switch his focus to what had happened at Christina’s. “Tell me we’ve got video.”

“Get this. They were dummy cameras. Not hooked to a damned thing. Alarm company said there’s been some issue with the working units, and these ones were just in place till the replacements could be installed.”

Had someone who knew about the camera problem decided to seize on the opportunity? “So this alarm company, they local?”

“Ocean City,” Fiorelli said, naming a larger shore town about a half hour to the north. “And I’ve got a call in to OCPD, checking out their techs already.”

“Good work,” Harris told him, impressed to see him taking the lead for once, instead of dragging his heels or outright hiding from anything that smelled like work. “We’ll want to check and see if any of our last few B&Es and trashed houses used the same security company, too.”

“Already on it, and Alphabetty got the hot doc’s prints late this afternoon, too.”

“Christina Paxton’s, you mean?” All the sensitivity training sessions in the world would never scratch the surface of this man’s political incorrectness.

“Yeah, caught her at home a little while ago so Del could exclude her prints and run the others through the system.” Del—Marco Del Vecchio—was a day-patrol guy who’d been cross-trained as a CSI. Because they didn’t have the budget for anybody full-time. “But you know we won’t get squat, just like with the burglaries.”

“More than likely, you’re right.” Harris stepped aside for a white-haired woman clutching a small handbag, then continued, “Unless somebody got sloppy, or the thing with the car was really personal.”

Fiorelli grunted something about not liking their odds.

“So, assuming we get a goose egg on the prints, what do you have?” Harris asked him.

“A big, fat zero. That’s what I figured, just like the other cases.” But then Fiorelli puffed up a little, sticking his chest out like a banty rooster. “Or at least that’s what I figured until I started digging into the hot doc’s background.”

“Christina’s? What did you find?” Regardless of how upset she’d gotten with him last night under questioning, Harris couldn’t imagine that she was somehow involved in trashing her own Mercedes. “She’s a respected physician, a single mom. I can’t imagine she’s got time to get herself into some sort of—”

“Whoa, whoa. What the hell? That’s not what I’m saying. I’m tellin’ you I found a motive, that’s all. A damned good reason someone might want to give your sainted lady doctor a rough time. And maybe more than that.”

Harris shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve seen people, plenty of them, outright killed for less.”

The following morning, Annie stopped by the house on Cape Street with a bag of doughnuts and a huge smile, her hair hanging like a beautiful blonde veil behind her. “Got your favorite. Cinnamon. Even though
everybody
knows that honey-glazed rule.”

“You didn’t get my voice mail?” asked Christina, who’d pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a dark-green cashmere sweater. She would have still been in bed, except Lilly was up early, and Max was eager to go out. “Sorry, but I don’t need you to watch Lilly. I’m taking a personal day.” Between the need to get the house’s alarm system and phone line repaired and her bone-deep dread of running into Renee again at the hospital, Christina had been forced to concede to necessity.

As Annie slipped out of her jacket, annoyance quirked one corner of her mouth. “No, I didn’t get your voice mail. Who even listens to those things, anyway?”

“I sent a text, too.”
Because I knew you’d say that.

“No, you didn’t.” Annie dug her phone from her purse and groaned down at the screen. “I could’ve slept in.”

“But then there wouldn’t be fresh doughnuts.” Christina snatched the bag from her and opened its top, the faint warmth and sweet, yeasty aroma easily overpowering her recent resolution to eat healthier.

“Doughnuts!” Lilly came running in from the family room, her blue eyes alight at the rare treat.

Christina’s stomach lurched at the sight of the toy in her daughter’s hand—the same green plastic T. Rex with which Jacob had playfully pretended to menace her. Since coming home from the hospital yesterday, Lilly had been playing happily with the toys he’d left behind. There had been no more mention of the accident, and Christina was afraid to bring it up. Afraid Lilly would say something even more alarming than she had on several occasions already.

A few minutes later, she had Lilly in her booster seat, where she was blissfully singing to herself while working on the powdered-sugar doughnut from the bag and a sippy cup of milk. Rather than sitting at the table, the sisters were standing, eating their doughnuts with coffee, in Christina’s case, and hot brewed tea in Annie’s, while leaning up against the counter.
Grazing like animals,
their mother would have put it, having tried and finally given up on breaking them of the habit of eating on their feet as teens.

Missing her mom’s voice—even her occasional scolding—Christina hoped she was having a great time with her friends. Her thoughts quickly soured as they veered from adoptive to birth mother, or the stranger who’d called Annie, claiming to be the woman. And acting as if she had some right to ask forgiveness, a concept that turned the bite of doughnut into an unappetizing lump in Christina’s mouth.

Swallowing, she wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I forgot to ask, with everything that’s happened: Did you ever check your phone’s call log for that number? You know, from that woman who—”

“I know which woman,” Annie said, setting her half-eaten second doughnut on the counter.

Looming hopefully nearby, Max raised his black nose like a periscope.

“Go lie down, boy,” Christina ordered, knowing from experience that the big dog would get sick if he gobbled down anything so greasy. “Outta here.”

Lowering his ears, the greyhound gave her his most tragic look before trudging over to lie near Lilly’s chair. In the hope of falling crumbs, no doubt.

“The phone just said ‘Private Number.’”

Christina bit back a curse. “But no more calls since then, right?”

“No, thank God.”

“Good.” Christina hadn’t heard any more mysterious voices last night, either. But with the monitor unplugged, the home line disconnected, and her cell set to automatically reject anonymous calls, harassing her from afar would be much harder.

Unless this woman decides to come again in person.
Chills erupted at the thought. Though Christina had no proof that the voice she and Annie had both heard was related to the vandalism, the suspicion floated, like the fragile tentacles of a jellyfish, just beneath the surface.

As if she’d read her sister’s mind, Annie asked, “Have you heard any more about what happened with your car?”

After Christina had called Annie for a ride yesterday, she’d ended up telling her sister about the damage. But not about the woman on the baby monitor—not yet. She couldn’t bear to admit to the things that she’d been hearing, since Annie knew about her issues of two years before.

Besides, Christina was supposed to be the one who had her life together, in spite of how so much of it had recently imploded.
And the crazy things you’ve heard your daughter saying.

Her stomach quivering, Christina glanced at Lilly, who was chattering at the green T. Rex as she attempted to feed it chunks of doughnut.

Reassured that she wasn’t listening, Christina lowered her voice to answer Annie. “I suspect the investigation’s on hold, with Harris tied up with Jacob right now.”

“I imagine so.” Annie winced. “Have you been following the paper lately?”

“I have.” Christina remembered reading the editorial in the local weekly suggesting that Seaside Creek’s reputation and economy were at risk unless the
grossly undermanned
police department was beefed up and the vandalism stopped. The following week, a slew of outraged letters had followed, decrying the thought of higher taxes to benefit a bunch of
rich, big-city snobs
—one of the more polite descriptions of the absentee homeowners whose property had been damaged. Several had suggested that if Police Chief Bowers couldn’t find a way to get his job done on the budget he’d been given, they ought to find someone who could. “Maybe people’ll lighten up on him once word gets around about Jacob.”

Annie snorted. “For about ten minutes, maybe. But after that, Harris had better get somebody behind bars fast, or he could go from hero to zero in no time flat. If what I’m hearing is true, I might even run into him at the unemployment office.”

“What you’re hearing from whom?”

Her sister shrugged. “Around town, that’s all. What’s it matter?”

Christina sighed, suspecting she was right.

Annie hesitated, chewing at her lower lip. “I hate to bring this up,” she said, “but with Renee in this situation, I’m thinking it could be a long time before she’s available for child care.”

“Renee’s never watching Lilly again.” Christina thought of her daughter’s terrified sobs echoing off the tile of the hospital restroom. “Not after the way she acted yesterday.”

“You know I’ve never been Renee’s biggest fan, but she had to’ve been out of her mind, with poor Jacob in a coma.”

“I understand that. I do,” Christina whispered. “And I feel terrible, absolutely sick, about what happened. But I’m not taking any chances, so I’ll be looking for someone new. Someone I can trust with Lilly.”

“It happens I’m available,” Annie ventured, “and I’d absolutely love to help out on more than just a fill-in basis.”

“What about your temp job?”

“That’s over.” She shrugged and waved it off. “I mean, you can’t believe how boring—but me and my best girl, Lilly? We always have a blast together.”

It was true, Christina thought. Annie doted on her only niece, loving it when people, fooled by their similar coloring, mistook Lilly for her own child when the two of them were out together. And Lilly adored her aunt, too, but why wouldn’t she? Annie was all things fun, wrapped in a pretty package. Never too tired or sad or harried to get down on the floor and play.

Yet Christina still had reservations. “I thought you were tied up moving this week.”

Annie had been telling everyone that the landlord was jacking up her rent again, but the truth, Christina knew, was that their mom had finally had enough of bailing out her younger daughter on the first of every month. Telling Christina that Annie would never “grow up and get a real profession” if they didn’t both stop enabling her carefree lifestyle, their mother had adopted a strict tough-love policy. No more financial help.

Annie made a face. “Oh, that. Well, you try finding a decent place around here on a budget. I’ve even looked at renting a single room in a house, but the ones I can afford are total—hey, I know.” Her expression brightened. “What if I stayed here? You’ve got like
tons
of room. What are there? Five bedrooms—or six—in this place?”

She said this as if she had just thought of it, but Christina recognized the telltale signs that she’d been planning this: Annie shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze slipping off to the right. She’d been waiting for this chance—the chance to live rent-free, with her sister picking up the tab for food and utilities. But was it really enabling Annie if Christina needed her, too?

To stall for time before she had to answer, she stuffed her mouth with another bite of doughnut.

“Come on, Christina. I could be a real help,” Annie pressed. “I’ll keep the place picked up and feed her balanced meals. No more doughnuts or any junk food without your approval. And when you come home late, I’ll have something ready for us. It’ll be fun—like having a 1950s wife of your own.”

Christina couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I can just picture you in heels and one of those ruffled aprons.”

Though another sister might have resented the thought of serving as her more successful sister’s domestic help, Annie was grinning. “I can think of a few old boyfriends who would’ve paid big bucks to see that.”

“What about the latest?” Christina asked, trying to sound casual. But if she decided to use her sister for more than a stopgap substitute, she needed to assure herself that Annie wouldn’t be having any of her sometimes questionable choices around Lilly.

Annie looked her in the eye. “I’m taking a break from men right now, trying to focus on my course work.”

“You’re taking classes again?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Yeah.” She shrugged. “I’ve decided to switch majors and get my degree in business. Even Mom thinks it’s a good idea.”

“That’s great, Annie,” Christina said, wondering whether her sister’s commitment to completing school would hold steady this time. “But keep in mind, your moving in would only be a temporary solution. In a month or two, I’ll be looking for my own place—a condo or a small house.” She emphasized
small
, having neither the time nor the inclination for a lot of upkeep—or a permanent roommate.