Twilight (28 page)

He rubbed his hand through his wet hair and turned off the water, angry and frustrated. He couldn’t protect himself from every possible scenario, couldn’t stop his own subconscious thoughts. There was only one way to kick this thing—and that was in the teeth.

He toweled his head and dressed without shaving. With a pat to Annie’s neck, he grabbed his jacket and went out. The jeep fired sluggishly in the cold, but he was too worked up to let it warm for long. He put it in gear and drove to the station.

Frank was in his office and looked up, brows raised, when Cal walked in. The gum he was chewing to keep from wanting a cigarette filled his cheek like a small animal. He laced his fingers and leaned forward in the chair but didn’t speak.

Cal came to a stop before him without the normal greeting, just, “Put me on the line.” He saw his words hit home, though Frank neither whooped nor laughed.

“Active when?

“Just fit me in the rotation.”

Frank leaned sideways to see the clipboard. “That’d be Thursday.”

“Fine.” Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the office. His uniform would be in the locker downstairs where he’d left it. But this time he wouldn’t wear a clown suit over it. The only thing he’d add would be fire protection gear. He turned to go.

“Cal?”

He looked back over his shoulder.

“Welcome back.” Frank showed the gap between his front teeth.

Cal smiled in return, but it was a little like smiling down a freight train with your ankles chained to the rails. He went out, sucking in the winter air with purpose. It was the right thing. It had to be. Hiding behind a clown face hadn’t helped. Maybe suiting up in turnout gear would. At any rate, he didn’t know what else to do.

He got into his jeep and drove. Though he’d carried the address in his wallet and had an open invitation since leaving the psychiatric center, Cal hadn’t seen Reggie’s house until he pulled up in front of it. Modest. That’s what he’d call it in lieu of less tactful terms. It was near the place they’d met for the prayer meeting and pretty much on a par with it, though he imagined Reggie could do much better with what he earned at the center and Suanne’s income as well.

He climbed out of the jeep and leaned against it. Did he want to do this? Before he could climb back in, Reggie caught sight of him from the window and waved. Cal pocketed the keys and headed up the walk, parallel planks over wood mulch. He halted at the stoop to make way for the aluminum screen door to swing open.

Reggie held it there with one muscled arm for Cal to enter. “Throw another chop on, Suanne. We got company.”

Cal stopped just inside and looked at the Coca-Cola clock on the wall. “I didn’t know it was suppertime. My body clock’s messed up.” He knew Reggie would understand. Post-traumatic stress wreaked havoc with the sleep cycles.

“No problem. There’s always room for more.”

“I don’t want to interrupt. We can talk another time.” Cal leaned toward the door.

Reggie’s hand came down on his shoulder, his sore shoulder. “Bro, I’ve been expectin’ you.”

“You have?” Cal ignored the pain. “What, you got a memo from the Big Man?”

Reggie laughed. “Not this time. I just surmised you’d be wantin’ to talk.”

“You surmised …”

“Frank called Rita, Rita called me. Said you went back on active duty.”

Cal slacked his hip. “Already? I just left there.” Reggie grinned.

For the first time, Cal resisted. “Should I hire a billboard, let the whole town know?”

“Nah.” Reggie shrugged. “They already know.”

Cal dropped his chin to his chest and forked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing like newly mown hay.

“Well, come on in and close the door.” Suanne swung her hefty arm at them. “You’re letting out the heat.”

Reggie closed the door obediently. “Suanne, honey, this is Cal Morrison. Cal, my angel wife.”

She was a plump, saucy sort of angel with red pouty lips and knowing eyes. “Well, take off your coat, honey, and stay awhile. You like pork chops?”

Cal nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“That’s good, cuz you’re gettin’ one.” She sashayed back into the kitchen.

“Isn’t she a dream?” Reggie’s eyes were locked onto the space she’d just vacated.

Cal studied him a moment, a pang starting inside. “How long have you been married?”

“Fourteen years.”

And their affection was tangible. “You’re a lucky man, Reg.”

“Not lucky; blessed. And I thank God ever y day for that woman.”

Cal looked around the room, furnished with Herculon couch and recliner, not unlike his own. The bookshelf looked like the devotional end cap at the grocery store. The paneled wall had one oil print landscape in a cheap wood frame, and an old Magnavox TV with rabbit ears stood in the corner. But the place was clean and tidy.

“Come and sit, bro. Suanne’ll call when it’s time to set the table. That’s my job. That and the dishes. You can help with both.”

Cal took a place on the couch, and the recliner conformed to Reggie’s bulk.

“So, now, what’s on your mind?”

Cal sent him a wry smile. “I figured you’d tell me. The way news travels, you must know more than I do.”

“What I know is you’ve gone back active.”

“And what does Dr. James think of that?” Cal rubbed his palm along the Herculon arm.

“She didn’t say. Only if I talked to you, to have you call. She wants to know you’re doing things in the right order.”

“My forte?”

Reggie smiled. “So why are you back?” He wasted neither time nor words.

“Running away didn’t help. Maybe facing it will.”

Reggie shook his head. “Only one way to change things. Put your trust in God.”

Cal wasn’t surprised. Maybe he’d come to hear that. At any rate he’d expected it. “I have to do it on my own, Reg.”

“You remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

Reggie grinned. “The Apostle Paul. Yessir. It took a major wallop to get his attention, bro.”

“The Apostle Paul.”

“You see he was on the road to Damascus …”

Cal listened, half polite, half interested. Actually more than half interested. Reggie was a natural raconteur, but it was more than that. Something in Cal wanted to hear, wanted to know what power Reggie had found that changed him. Right now, Cal would change into white mice if it would make a difference.

Laurie was still smiling from the tickle time with Luke and Maddie as she walked downstairs. Nothing eased her heart so much as the unrestrained laughter of her children. She’d even allowed them to pummel her with the pillows before tucking them in and sharing enough kisses to get them all through the night.

It sapped her deepest reserves to keep up the front for her children, to not let them see the toll fear and grief were taking. She had called Mother six times through the day to make sure the children were all right. It would be so easy for Brian to go there, to take them and vanish, though she suspected his threat was more to control and torment her than any real desire to take his children.

Mother had grown suspicious.
“Is something wrong?”
What could be wrong in her mother’s fantasy world of perfect husband, perfect life?
“I just miss them today.”
Yes, she’d lied. She couldn’t shatter Mother’s dream. Her marrying Brian was the only thing Mother had wholeheartedly approved, the only time Laur ie had felt truly accepted by both her parents. She had arrived. In spite of her faults, her deficiencies, she’d actually made them proud.

Her throat ached. It was all an illusion, but one she clung to even now. She’d lost Cal, driven him away. Maybe she should try to reach Brian, apologize for her stupidity, her pettiness. Maybe she shouldn’t have cared that he chose a little excitement, illegal and immoral though it was. He was her husband. Isn’t that how Cal saw it too? And God?

She had left God out of her decision to marry, run from Him as she had from Cal. Like a cat after a glittering bauble, she would topple the tree to get it. And when she landed with shattered glass ornaments and tangled wires, there was no one to blame but herself. If it were only herself, she might have stayed in the destruction. She deserved it.

But there was Luke and Maddie. What if they had found the cocaine? What if as they grew, Brian allowed them to experiment, as he’d obviously done. What if they were caught with it, if they overdosed? Let them think her the unkind, unforgiving one. She would not risk their lives.

Their little voices upstairs grew still, and as the silence deepened, her weight of fear and uncertainty returned. She looked around, searching every shadow. She hated this house. If she could pick up and leave, she would. But how could she? She’d hardly scraped enough together to keep them all fed and warm. And where would she go?

No, like it or not, this was the scene she had to play. She drew a breath and reached for the kitchen light. She’d left the dinner dishes until after Luke and Maddie were tucked in for the night. But she shuddered every time she entered the kitchen these days. She flicked the light on.

“Hello, Laurie.”

She stifled the cry with her fist, certain it had carried up the stairs, praying the children hadn’t heard. Why was she even surprised? She had sensed him there, this man she’d married but scarcely knew anymore. Looking into his handsome face, she saw a stranger, something she’d acquired along the way but didn’t recall how. She drew a ragged breath. “What do you want?”

Brian motioned her into the kitchen. They would talk; she would explain; he would leave. If he made trouble, there was the gun in the high cabinet over the refrigerator. But how would she get to it?
Don’t panic, just do what he says
. She’d reach the gun if she needed to. But as she entered, she saw two other men. One, a Latino with sharp dark eyes and hair pulled into a high, tight ponytail, was almost expressionless and stood in front of the refrigerator. The other man, with blond-tipped spikes and chain collar, was pure L.A.

“Hello, Mrs. Prelane.” A spark of recognition ignited when he spoke.
Alex Dieter
. He had the kind of ruined voice you couldn’t forget, the kind a crowbar to the larynx left marred. Or at least that was the story Brian had given her when she’d met the man at a party. She remembered him now, but she hadn’t known Brian had any close association with him.

Dieter smiled, each tooth thin and spaced alone. The effect was ghoulish in the overhead light of the kitchen. A wave of fear passed through her. What was Brian doing with men like this? Why would he choose them for companions? Did he always have to be on the edge?

Dieter waved a hand decked with diamond cluster rings and a thick silver bracelet with a golden gecko. “You have something for me?”

She drew herself up, willing the fear from her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you that in my note.” She looked to Brian hopefully.

He gave her nothing. Hollow-eyed with stress lines beside his mouth, he seemed agitated, angry. Of course he would be. If they could just talk alone. Why had he brought these henchmen? And how … She glanced at the door behind them. Her brow furrowed.

Dieter laughed, a terrible sound in his broken throat. “If you’re going to add dead bolts, you ought to lock them.”

Laurie thought back to the hours just past. Could she have left it unlocked? Yes, Luke had searched the backyard for his shoes. Then she’d rushed them out the door to Mother’s and still arrived late for work. She hadn’t checked the door when she came home, just brought them upstairs for their bath. Her breath escaped. She wasn’t used to living in fear.

But she felt it now. Her eyes darted to the high cabinet.

Dieter’s smile turned nasty. “Where is it?”

Her heart jumped, but she realized he didn’t mean the gun. Why did Brian let this punk do his talking? She shook her head, looking confused, playing stupid. If she lunged for the cabinet, the Latino would stop her. Why hadn’t she kept the gun on her? Because she didn’t want the children to know.

“Just give it to him, Laurie.” Brian’s voice was tense. He didn’t know what she’d done; he didn’t understand.

“I don’t have it.”

“Who does?” Brian edged closer, muscles taut. “That boyfriend of yours?”

Cal? She pictured the swollen welt on Cal’s shoulder. Now she knew it
was
Brian who attacked him, scaring him off, forcing away her only source of protection and comfort. She was lucky Brian hadn’t cracked Cal’s skull. “He knows nothing about this. I hosed it down the pool drain before I left.” She saw the blood leave Brian’s face, making a stark contrast between pale skin and jet black hair.

His throat worked, the larynx jumping up, then dropping. “Not even you could be that stupid.”

His shock transferred to her. What was he saying? What … She now realized Brian was not in control here; he was afraid.

“You wouldn’t be that stupid, would you?” Dieter flicked out a silver stiletto blade. “Not when you have such lovely children, Mrs. Prelane.”

Laurie’s eyes jumped from the knife to Dieter’s face. Icy fear shot through her, silencing her. A quick glance at Brian affirmed his matching fear. It was real, tangible. What had he done? What had she done?
Luke. Maddie
.