“No, no, you go on, dear. Have Paul show you his workshop.”
The men left the kitchen, quickly followed by the girls, retreating to the living room to catch the end of the game. Suzanne cleared the table, pausing before the window over the sink to admire the view. As dusk set in, the moon appeared, hanging just over the horizon, reflecting off the snow in a silent and peaceful landscape.
Her mother wiped and stacked the dishes for Suzanne to dry, methodically moving from soapy water to rinse, a ritual that was the product of fifty years’ practice. The two worked in silence, washing and wiping, until the kitchen was restored to its normal sparkling appearance. “The girls seem happy,” her mother remarked. “Like normal sisters. You never had that problem—or the joys of sisters, either. I always regretted that we couldn’t have another child. Everyone should have a sibling.”
Suzanne dried her hands on the damp dish towel and hugged her mother. “I’m sure I did just fine without, Mom.”
“You’ve done well, honey.” Maureen held her close. She whispered, “I like him.”
“Good. So do I.”
Maureen let go and put the last few plates away. “He’s more educated than I thought.”
“Well, you never know when a police officer will need to quote Shakespeare on the beat.”
Really? After the entire dinner conversation, that’s what her mother noticed?
Mother and daughter sat at the kitchen table again, and Suzanne felt the presence of ghosts of déjà vu. This table had hosted marathon nights of canasta, neither willing to quit until the other was thoroughly beaten, the planning of Halloween parties in the big, dark wooden barn, shared confidences, The Talk about sex, worrying over her dad’s health.... But always a very safe and peaceful place, compared to Suzanne's daily life of telephones, emergencies and court calendars.
Maureen took a sip of her cooling coffee. “So we’ll bring the girls home Saturday night?”
“That will give us time to get homework done. Sure, thanks.”
The group in the other room broke into cheers. Apparently their team had won. A few moments later, Nick came into the room, one arm around each girl. Hope and Riviera seemed ecstatic. Paul shuffled in behind in his worn slippers. “Nothing good ever came out of Detroit,” he muttered.
“What a nice looking family,” Maureen said, her eyes fastened on man and girls. Paul came up behind Suzanne and patted her on the shoulder before leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
“Don’t let this one get away, okay?” he warned her.
Et tu, Dad?
“Right.” She looked at Nick, feeling tears sting her eyes. It was a nice looking family. Maybe one of these days…
Nick cleared his throat. “Suzanne, the Weather Channel said something about more snow later. We’d better—”
Saved!
“Right. We’d better.” She got up quickly, careful not to run the chair over her father’s instep. Riviera and Hope gave Suzanne hugs and kisses, and then, to Suzanne’s amazement, did the same to Nick before they returned to the television. Odd to see them treat Nick like a father.
His approval rating seems to be unanimous. Why am I the only one who’s reluctant?
Chapter Eighteen
Nick entered the month of December delighted with his life. Despite the attempts of Jojo Washington to get under his skin, he’d navigated the retirement dinner without losing his temper. And he’d Met The Parents. They really seemed to like him, too. He couldn’t ask for anything more in his life.
What an irritation, then, halfway through that first week of the month, when he got hauled into Reickert’s office for a dressing-down.
The summons was scrawled on a pink message slip on his desk when he returned from an investigation of a theft in mid-afternoon. Having his problem children on temporary assignment might make the squad room more pleasant, but it also left him shorthanded. He found himself on the streets more than he’d been in a few months. It felt good to get out, work hands on, instead of juggling paperwork all day like the rest of the bureaucrats.
But when the chief called, you went.
He stuck his head into Reickert’s office. “What did you need, Chief?”
The old man didn’t get up. “Take a seat, Nick. And close the door.”
Well, that wasn’t a good sign. What the hell…
Nick did as he was told, suspicion making him hyperaware of everything going on around him. It was just the chief, no one from Internal Affairs. So it couldn’t be a mistake he’d made on the street. So what then?
Reickert seemed to be fumbling for words. Not one to waste time, Nick leaned forward, hands on his knees. “What’s going on?”
The old man cleared his throat. Twice. “Nick, I’m getting some pressure here. You know I’m not one to bow down to city hall, but…” He trailed off, his expression one of helplessness.
Was Reickert in some kind of trouble? Nick had never seen him like this. “You want me to talk to someone, boss?”
“Actually, we’d all be better off if you quit talking to someone.” Reickert had the good graces to look embarrassed as Nick guessed the subject of the discussion.
“Seriously? This is about Suzanne Taylor?” Even the thought of Morgan stooping this low raised his blood pressure.
“Now, Nick, I’m sure she’s a fine woman, and you have every right to see who you want to see,” the chief sputtered. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, but—”
“Damned straight you’re not.” Fury gave way to disbelief, then segued to a sort of morbid curiosity. “What is it Morgan said exactly?”
The chief stiffened as Nick used the councilman’s name. “I didn’t tell you that’s who it was.”
“You didn’t have to. What did he say? Did he threaten her?” Now that it was confirmed, Nick’s thoughts began to spiral off into what-ifs. Surely Reickert wouldn’t have bowed to any open threats. He would have reported those immediately, like he should. Nick studied his boss, seeing Reickert slumped in his chair, as if he were ashamed to even be there, more like he wished he could vanish under his heavy oak desk.
By God, he’d better have.
“He didn’t threaten anyone, Nick. Th-That’s the thing. He didn’t really
say
anything so much as implied it. You know our budget’s up for approval before the council, and we’re in a bad way with the economic downturn. We need every dime just to keep everyone on that we have now, and we may still lose some of our part-timers.” He straightened up a little, at least looked him in the eye. “I can’t let my troops down. All I’m asking is for you to cool it off for awhile, at least till after the budget passes at the first of the year.”
Incredulous, Nick stared at him. “You’re serious. This is all about money. Money?”
“Money’s what keeps this place running and keeps the citizens of Pittsburgh safe. You’re damned right I’m talking about money. I’m asking you for a personal favor. Just hold off seeing her for another three weeks, till the budget passes. I’m asking you to take one for the team. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Stunned, Nick leaned back in his chair, wondering if he’d stepped off his world onto another planet that morning without noticing. “You’re going to let that man run the private lives of your officers, because he doesn’t want the world to know what kind of consummate asshat he is. That he’s an abuser. And an abuser of power.”
And a whole lot of other things I better not say under the circumstances…
Reickert shrugged. “You can do what you want, Nick. I’m not taking any action either way. Like I said, I’m just asking this as a personal favor. Three weeks. Doesn’t seem like such a hardship to me, considering all the good it’ll do for thousands of people.”
No, I guess you wouldn’t think it was a hardship.
Nick felt sick inside, like he’d eaten broken glass. How would he explain to Suzanne that after the successful dinner with her parents, that quintessential step to the next level of a relationship, that he couldn’t see her? He sure as hell couldn’t tell her it was because of Morgan. She’d go off on some legal white steed, all dressed in her white knight armor, ready to joust. He eyed Reickert, not trusting himself to respond. He hated politics. He hated bureaucratic garbage. He hated lying. This mess was the bastard offspring of all three. Clearing his throat, disgust filtering into his mindset, he sat straight in the chair. “Is that it?”
Reickert’s chin sagged. “Sorry you’re caught up in this. Three weeks, Nick. I promise.”
Nick growled and shoved himself up from the chair. “We’ll see.” He stalked out of the chief’s office and back to his own. Clara Malron looked up as he came through, her face lighting with interest at his scowl.
How was he going to deal with Suzanne?
He pushed the door closed, gaining some small satisfaction as it hit the frame hard enough to rattle the glass. Plopping into his chair, he leaned back, tension settling right into the muscles of his neck. The last thing he wanted at this point in time, this precarious point, would be to jeopardize what looked like a hopeful development. He’d enjoyed his day with Suzanne’s parents, and they’d seemed to accept, no, welcome him with open arms. Suzanne’s father Paul had practically added him to the family roster already.
But now I have to avoid her?
What might work? Nothing about a conflict of interest; anything in that line would pique her professional curiosity, and he’d seen her work.
She never gave up on that kind of thing.
Not like he could fake a three-week trip away. Maybe a contagious disease? That could be dangerous, if she was the drive-out-to-drop-off-chicken-soup type. He didn’t think she was. Well, at least not just yet. But he couldn’t take the risk.
For now, he’d have to stall her with murky, vague complaints about the budget process or something. Not like that was a lie, exactly. This was tied right to the budget.
Nick was more upset that he’d been left in this position by the weakness of his boss.
Shame on Chief Reickert for not having the backbone to stand up to Greg Morgan.
The respect he’d carried for the chief all these years took on a tarnish, and faded a little. The man in charge was supposed to protect his officers, not leave them vulnerable to attack.
He’d go along with this request, just this once, because of the long-term association and deference he had with Reickert. But it wouldn’t happen again.
****
Suzanne finished reviewing the last file she’d brought home and rubbed burning eyes. What the hell time was it? Exhausted, she glanced at the clock. Half past midnight.
Well, no wonder.
She carried her empty teacup to the kitchen, setting it in the sink. All the locks around the downstairs were fastened and chained. Flipping off the last light in the hallway, she headed upstairs.
She turned off the hall light, but not before she caught the sudden extinguishment of the light in Riviera’s room. A frown edging onto her face, she opened her daughter’s door, finding the room dark and her daughter ensconced under her thick pink comforter. “Riv?”
Nothing.
“Riv, I saw the light.”
Still nothing.
Annoyed now, she turned on the light. “I’m not playing around. What are you doing up?”
Riviera stirred, then peered out from behind the edge of her bedclothes. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll go to bed now.”
“What were you doing?” Not homework, Suzanne surmised. Otherwise, she’d have been protesting up on side and down the other. She glanced around the room. The laptop was missing. “Where’s the computer?”
Riviera sighed. “Here.” She pulled it out from under her blankets.
The admission fired Suzanne’s annoyance into full-blown irritation. “You know better. Bedtime was ninety minutes ago. Are you gaming this late?”
“I’m not!”
Another admission. Sometimes it was almost unfair to her kids that she was a lawyer. “Then what?”
“I…” Riviera bit her lip, looking down at the computer. “It’s just…I mean… Joss wouldn’t let me get off. He needed to talk, Mom. He’s having a hard time with his parents, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”
“Tell you what. If he needs therapy at midnight, he can call the crisis line. Give me the computer. You need your sleep so you can get up for school in the morning.”
“But, Mom—”
Irritation was moving up the scale to medium hot. “You want to argue with me? I can keep the computer for a week.”
Riviera pouted. “No.”
Suzanne took the laptop, feeling it warm in her hands. The kid must have been burning up the modem lines for hours. “Get some sleep, dear. Life as you know it will continue in the morning.”
Her daughter didn’t reply, but Suzanne heard the under-the-breath muttered reply as she left. A little smile crossed her face.
Complaint department’s down the hall
. Although the fact that her daughter had a boyfriend, a normal life, was somewhat reassuring. Everything was so dramatic at that age, seeming to encompass life and death in a split second. The instantaneous nature of the Internet didn’t help parents out in the least. As far as she was concerned, her job as a parent was to make the kids toe the line.
If only she could make her clients do the same.
Chapter Nineteen
Nick struggled with those next weeks. He’d even had to turn down an invitation from Suzanne to come to her house for the weekend, explaining—lying—that he was on a stakeout detail. Not being honest with her made him sick to his stomach, and frankly pissed him off, especially when he didn’t know if she’d ask again. Winning her trust had been such a huge part of his effort to date her.
And now he was letting it all go, for the money to sustain his department.
The Tuesday before Christmas, he arrived early, and took the stairs two at a time, travel mug in hand, briefcase in the other, ready to start the day on fire. The squad room seemed to be unnaturally quiet, especially for morning, but he greeted his co-workers and continued to his office. Through the open blinds, he noted speculative eyes upon him. The eerie feeling increased as two dark-suited officers from Internal Affairs came off the elevator and headed for his office.