“Just one girl,” Nick said. “One very special girl.” He punched Hank playfully on the shoulder. “But thanks for the sandwiches, and the help. It was good to hear the news from you.”
“My pleasure,” Hank said. “I’ve been pretty worried about you with all that claptrap going on. Glad it’s over.” He stood up and stretched. “Guess I’ll go home and spend the night with my wife.”
I wish I could say that,
Nick thought
. Maybe someday soon...
“Good night, old man.
See you at the office tomorrow.” He laughed. “Hey, that sounds real good. See you at the office tomorrow!”
“Thank her for me, too.” Hank picked up his jacket and ambled out the door, tipping his hat.
Nick waited until he drove away before he picked up the phone. Conscience stinging him, he called his buddy Charley. He should have heard back about the computer trace by now. After what Suzanne had done, he owed her an answer about those emails.
He got his friend on the second ring. “Hey, Charley, it’s Nick Sansone. Checking up on the—”
“Oh, man, your friend definitely has stepped in something,” Charley said without any introduction. “Yesterday afternoon, we finally deciphered the last piece. You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Try me.”
“The emails came from a cell phone that belongs to Councilman Morgan’s kid. What the hell’s going on?”
Nick gave him the briefest of explanations, all the while his nerves burned hot at the thought of Morgan putting his boy up to these tactics. The man just didn’t learn. Bad enough to send paid goons out to deliver his messages. Suborning his own son should be a crime in itself.
After he got Charley off the phone, he dialed Suzanne’s number. One of the girls answered, Riviera maybe. “Is your mom home?”
“Sure, just a minute.”
In the background, he heard the girl calling for Suzanne, who picked up an extension, probably in her office. The original connection cut off as Suzanne answered. “Hello?”
“What have you been up to?” Nick said, trying to sound angry. He would never have asked her to put herself at such risk, especially not on his account. He didn’t intend to let her off the hook easy.
“Up to? Now what’s happened? More trouble?”
“Where you’re concerned, there’s always trouble.”
“Funny, that’s what I always say about cops,” she said. He heard the smile in her voice.
“Don’t even try to put me off, Suzanne. I can’t believe you’d…” He sighed. She obviously knew why he’d called. “Hank was just here. He told me everything.”
“Oh.” An awkward silence followed.
“Can you get away tonight for awhile? We can go out somewhere to talk. You can explain what the hell you thought you were doing, you crazy woman!”
“You’re the second or third person to call me crazy today,” Suzanne said. “I’m going to start believing it pretty soon.”
“Well, can you?”
“Of course. Let me make sure the girls have everything they need, then I’ll meet you...at Frederick’s?”
“Sounds good. See you in an hour?”
“Fine.”
Nick hurriedly showered and dressed, wearing what he knew was her favorite aftershave, and debated stopping by the grocery store to buy some roses. Nah. He’d leave that for later. Right now, he just wanted to get his hands on her. In every possible way. She’d managed to redeem him, single-handedly
.
The conversation they’d had with that Pittsburgh Press reporter must have ignited something in her. He’d seen the fire in her eyes when he insisted on waiting until the investigation had run its course. He’d assumed everything would turn out fine. Maybe it would have. But maybe it wouldn’t.
She’d changed it all.
He arrived at Frederick’s before she did and chose an isolated corner booth, so they’d have a chance to talk without interruption. The place was a neighborhood bar along Route 19, quiet and casual, mostly inhabited by regular patrons who liked the simple red vinyl booths and the bartender’s pretty wife Beverly, who waitressed most nights. Bev came over as soon as he was seated. “What can I get you, handsome?”
“A beer. No. Make that an orange juice,” he said.
Better keep my head clear.
“Straight?” As he nodded, Beverly made little clucking sounds and went over to pass Fred the order. She was back with a tall, icy glass of orange juice almost immediately.
Several minutes later, Suzanne came in the door, wearing dark narrow pants and a black turtleneck, wrapped in a large puffy knitted shawl of multicolored earth tones. Nick slid out of the booth and came across the room to take her in his arms. She returned his embrace, pressing up against him. He could tell she didn’t want to let go any more than he did.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered near his ear. Her warm breath stirred him in a way he knew they couldn’t act on in public.
He reluctantly released her, but left his arm around her shoulder while they walked over to the booth. “Zinfandel?” he asked.
“What’s that?” She peered at his glass. “Orange juice?” She shrugged. “That sounds good.”
“Bev, another?” Nick called, and the woman nodded in reply. He slid close to Suzanne, leaving his arm where it was. “So.”
She smiled mysteriously. He waited, just enjoying the feel of her next to him, until the server brought the second glass of juice. “So.”
“I heard today we were right. Charley traced those emails to Morgan’s son’s cell. So either the kid sent them, or his dad used the phone. Either way, I’ll pass on that information to the local department. They’ll be pressing charges against him.”
Suzanne’s smile faded into shadows. “Morgan is an idiot. I can’t believe he’d set his kid up like this. Maddie’s brokenhearted about him.”
“I agree. But he’s not the only idiot I know.” He studied her, thinking he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Hank tells me the Three Amigos are history, because you went out to East Liberty to find this girl. That could have had very bad consequences.”
“Why can’t you just say thanks without nagging me about taking risks? Just once, Sansone, it would be awfully refreshing.”
His fingers squeezed her shoulder. “No, babe, I meant to say that I’m just amazed. You never fail to surprise me, counselor.”
The way her face lit up showed him that pleased her. “I hope not, Detective. I don’t want to be boring.”
“I don’t think you’ll bore me for some time to come, dear Suzanne.” He kissed her, then held her tightly. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”
When he released her, she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m the one who should thank you, for all you’ve done for my girls, and for me.”
“You all mean the world to me.”
She smiled. “Back at you.” Her eyes sparkled, and he cut off her next words in the most pleasant way he could think of. That kiss led to another, and soon they left Frederick’s and retired to Suzanne’s house to hold each other close through the night.
****
The next morning, Nick marched into the stationhouse, his head held high. He personally watched with satisfaction as Washington, Malron and Vasquez emptied their personal belongings into boxes, then were escorted from the police headquarters building. Still uneasy that the matter was really over and done with, he felt out of place in his office, worried he’d somehow changed in the weeks he’d been away.
Chief Reickert had been so guilty about his lack of support that he’d offered Nick an upcoming plum assignment: escorting an extradited prisoner to California. The trip would take a week, and all his airfare and hotels would be paid by the city. “You deserve to get away,” Reickert had said.
Nick was looking forward to the trip. It would be a good chance to wipe the slate clean, get all the lingering depression and frustration out of his system, and start fresh with Suzanne when he returned. Too bad she couldn’t go with him, but this was business. From now on, he intended to keep business and his private life separate.
****
The girls had gone to a Saturday afternoon basketball game, and Suzanne paced through the empty house restlessly. She’d run laundry, shaken the rugs, and even emptied the clogged trap under the bathroom sink. The only office work she was interested in was a pending call from Greg Morgan’s attorney approving the settlement she’d proposed. Under the gun with the criminal charges for stalking and threatening her, as well as the harassment by communication charges, she guessed he’d have to accept. But she didn’t think any news would come through until Monday, when the corporate attorney-types returned to work.
In quiet desperation, she broke her own resolve to leave the dishes for the girls to do when they returned, and washed them, setting them in a wooden rack to dry. She looked out the window across the yard as she worked, the snow piled a foot deep waiting for next week’s January thaw. She couldn’t wait until the tulips she and Nick had planted in the fall would stick up their bright, cheery heads.
How long ago that was!
The winter had been shot through with drama, thanks to Nick’s personnel problem and her own dealings with the Morgans. But both those matters were concluded, and it was time to face the future.
Nick’s commandeering style still irritated Suzanne from time to time, but he’d done much to scale it back. She’d begun listening to second thoughts she had during her intake interviews, and refusing to take some potentially dangerous cases, now that she’d seen how vulnerable she could be. So there was hope.
Hope also defined her relationship with Nick. Still wary of commitment, their time together over the past months had convinced her his love was sincere. She’d found hers was, too. He’d become a part of her life. Now that he was gone, she missed him.
He’d been on his assignment only a week, yet it had seemed so much longer. Ten times a day she wondered when he would call, or wished he were there during an empty hour. What had she done before they’d met? She must have had other activities which filled those moments, because she surely had never spent so much time staring off into space as she had these last few days...
A click of a door latch closing somewhere in the house brought her daydream to a standstill. She turned and dried her hands quickly, listening for a greeting or footsteps, but heard neither. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she was alone, miles out in the country, and her gun was...where?
In her home office, out of reach. Looking around, she realized she had no real place to hide in the kitchen, though she could run out the back door, if she could only make herself move. But she couldn’t. A sharp knife was in reach. She grabbed it, holding it in front of her, watching the doorway in horror.
Nick’s head suddenly popped around the corner. As he spotted the knife, he stiffened. “What’s happened?”
“What’s happened? An idiot’s entered my house, apparently. Holy mother, Nick. If I’d been armed, I could have killed you!” She dropped the knife to the counter and he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her. Suzanne wanted to punch him, but his arms felt wonderful around her. She slipped hers around him, familiarity guiding her hands, and buried her head in his broad chest.
“I didn’t think,” he said. “Has there been more trouble? Have you heard anything from Morgan?”
Suzanne shook her head, her cheek feeling the texture of his flannel shirt. Nick’s hands moved on her back, massaging her, releasing pockets of tension. Deep sounds of pleasure escaped her throat as he worked. Her neck received the same treatment, and as it let go its tightness, her head eased back against his shoulder. Nick tipped her chin up and kissed her, a kiss born of a week’s frustration and need, and relief of coming through the fire.
Feeling the emotion echoing through her, Suzanne was possessed by an overwhelming urge to take Nick to bed on the spot. She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, slipping her hands inside to brush through the dark hair of his chest. He shivered and stopped kissing her long enough to ask, in a thick voice, “What about the girls?”
“They’re not here,” she whispered. “Won’t be back for hours.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Feeling wanton, she led him up to her peach-toned bedroom, where they undressed each other at a pace like pouring honey, and slipped into her bed, letting their suppressed emotion and fear and anger transform itself into steamy passion. Afterward, they held each other, heat radiating from their bodies, all thought chased from their minds, gradually drowsing into blissful sleep.
Sometime later, the door slammed downstairs and woke Suzanne. She heard her daughters’ excited voices and footsteps coming toward the stairs and started to get up, but Nick reached out sleepily to pull her back under the covers.
“It’s too late,” he murmured. “You’ll never get dressed before they get here.”
Embarrassed, she realized he was right. The footsteps headed straight for her door.
Riviera burst in, pigtails flying, calling, “Mom! Where’s Nick?” As she surveyed the room, she diagnosed the situation and blushed beet red. “Oh, look. There he is,” she said, and disappeared. Hope passed by, looked in quickly, said, “Hey, Nick,” then giggled and mercifully shut the door.
“Oh, my God,” Suzanne said, burying her face in the pillow. Nick chuckled, and she smacked him on the arm. “How can you laugh?”
“Because your face is hilarious. Not like they haven’t figured out the score between us, my darling. Now come on, let’s get dressed. I missed my girls.”
A few minutes later, they came downstairs to join the girls in the kitchen. Hope poured some cola into two glasses. Riviera opened a bag of chips. When the adults appeared, she poured the contents into a bowl so they could all share, and they came to be enfolded in his arms, one on each side. Nick broke into a huge smile.
“I think they missed you, too.” Suzanne said. She took some fruit juice from the refrigerator.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I brought you?”
“You brought us something?” Riviera asked. “What is it? Where is it?” She took his hand and pulled him back toward the front door. Hope smiled at her mother, then followed the others to the truck, not wanting to look too eager. They returned in a matter of minutes with new T-shirts sporting California designs. Nick had chosen one for each girl in her favorite colors and with her particular causes in mind, with a Hollywood logo for Riviera and an environmental issue for Hope. How did he remember all these things?