Operation: Normal (12 page)

"Cheeseburger, mustard and pickle only," I answered without hesitation. "Fries. Coke.
Be sure and ask for ketchup. Oh, and get Kayly an applesauce."

Struggling with a grin, Zach ordered for me, our sister and himself. Once we got the
food, he drove to the park near my apartment, where we'd eaten before. This time, though, we sat
on a bench near a small fountain. Zach held Kayly while he ate, a juggling act he never quite
mastered. Every time he tried to take a bite, she opened her mouth and watched the food all the
way to his lips.

That made us both feel so bad that I fed her pinches of bun, meat and fries in addition to
the applesauce and baby food from her bag. She managed the real stuff pretty well. She also
sucked on a pickle, shuddered from the sour, then cried for more. Zach couldn't stop
laughing.

In spite of the carb and caffeine boost, I felt totally lousy by the time we got back to the
apartment. I tried to fake it, but Zach could tell, I think. At any rate, he offered to watch Kayly
for a while so I could take a painkiller and "get some Zs," as he put it.

I guess I should've felt odd about heading to my room to do just that. I mean, I'd known
Zach, what? Four whole days? But I didn't feel a bit uneasy about having him in the apartment,
minding Kayly while I slept. I realized I hadn't lied when I told Heath I trusted Zach. I did.
Completely.

Thinking of Heath made me wonder how he was handling the whole Minka-Greg date
thing, happening tonight. Assuming, of course, he knew about it and was in love with her, as I
suspected.

I knew I should call her and offer some moral support, but at the moment I didn't have
enough energy. Promising myself I'd do it the minute I got up, I stole a moment to add today's
slang entries to Zach's list in my diary, then crawled under the sheets and closed my eyes.

I woke with a start sometime later without a clue as to how long I'd slept. I glanced
toward the X-Men clock on my dresser, only to find it missing, which meant it was probably a
casualty of yesterday's robbery. That also made me sure that the person who'd trashed the
apartment--and I was pretty darn sure it was Sylvie--did it to spite me, personally. Disgruntled
about the clock and feeling guilty for abandoning Kayly to Zach for so long, I walked into the
living area. But a quick glance around revealed no six-foot-something hottie anywhere.

"Zach?"

No answer.

My heart started thudding as a possible scenario popped into my head. I'd totally
misjudged him. He'd kidnapped Kayly. Turning on my heel, I charged into Mom's bedroom and
immediately saw my sister's bag and spare diapers sitting by her crib. Zach wasn't exactly a
dunce where babies were concerned. So he knew he wouldn't get far without her
accessories.

Baffled, I walked back to the living area, and that's when I saw the toe of one of Zach's
Docs, just visible beyond the leg of the couch. I moved to where I could see better and found him
stretched out on the floor on his side, sound asleep, his head on a throw pillow. Tucked safe in
his arms, Kayly snoozed, too.

I scolded myself for thinking badly of him.

Pressing my fingers to my mouth to hold back the emotion that threatened me constantly
these days, I watched my sister and her brother for quite a while. Clearly meant to be, I decided.
I just hoped my mom agreed when she got home on Sunday.

Since I hadn't checked the mail since Wednesday, I made a quick decision and headed to
the first floor to get it. Two elevator rides and a quick visit with Buddy later, I returned to find
Zach and Kayly still asleep. I looked at the kitchen clock and noted that Zach had pretty much
given me another day. I'd loved every minute of it.

In spite of his assurances to the contrary, I hoped his job didn't suffer. I wondered briefly
if that's why he acted so strange when I called him last night. He'd been deeply involved in a
work project he'd been neglecting, and I interrupted him...again. That theory made perfect
sense.

I had a pretty good stack of mail, probably because I forgot to check the box on
Thursday. I didn't know how that happened. Maybe I subconsciously feared another threat letter.
I know I set everything down on the bar today and walked away from it before I eventually felt
ashamed of myself. I picked up the stack and went to the desk to get Mom's fancy letter opener. I
could just see Zach's head and shoulders from where I sat. Naturally I inspected every envelope
carefully, but saw nothing evenly remotely suspicious, until I came across a letter addressed to
me.

Curious, I pulled a single sheet of white paper from a nondescript envelope with a
postmark. I had it half unfolded before I realized it had alphabet cut-outs glued on it. Stunned, I
double-checked the name on the envelope even though I knew it was mine.

Mom's letter opener landed on the tile floor with a clatter. Zach started violently and sat
straight up, leaving Kayly curled in a tiny ball of sleep beside him. He spotted me, sitting at the
desk. Our eyes met.

"What?" he demanded, getting up and walking over to where I sat at the desk.

My hand shook as I handed him the folded paper that I hadn't read yet.

His expression wary, Zach opened the letter. He made a choking sound.

"What?" I demanded, reaching for it. "What?"

Zach took a quick step away, refolding the thing so I couldn't read it. "You opened this?
After that jerk-ass cop told you not to?"

"It was addressed to me, Zach."

"What?"

I picked up the nondescript envelope and showed it to him.

"Fuck!"

Startled by his fury, I couldn't respond.

"This is about you."

Gulp. "Apparently."

"
You
, Ally." Zach sucked in a breath. "You need to call your dad."

"We don't have a relationship, remember?"

"What, exactly, does that mean?"

"It means he's called me twice in my whole."

"When?"

"T-this week, actually," I stammered.

Zach's gaze narrowed. "Oh, yeah? And what did he want?"

"To find out if I was okay."

He thought about that for a second.

"What?" I demanded, irritated by the look on his face.

"I'm just thinking how coincidental it is that your long-lost dad has suddenly called
twice the very week you get threat letters and find the apartment trashed."

My jaw dropped. "You mean you think he had something to do with this?" I shook my
head. "No way. Now give me that letter. I want to read it."

Zach stuck it behind his back.

My heart began to pound really hard. "Zach..."

"It will only--"

"
Now!
" I held out my hand.

He took one look at my flushed face and slapped the folded note onto my palm.

I fumbled to open it again and read,
Watch your back, bitch
.

"I'm going to die."

Zach grabbed me by the shoulders. "Not on my watch. We'll go to the police right now
and figure out what all this means. Wake up Kayly, will ya? I don't want to startle her."

I turned to follow orders and froze. My little sister, already awake, had crawled to the
coffee table, grabbed hold of the leg and pulled herself to a standing position. She clung to the
table top, wobbly as heck, but grinning proudly at us.

I gasped and grabbed Zach's arms. When he looked at me questioningly, I pointed to
Kayly, which made him turn. He smiled at his little sister and glanced back to me. "First
time?"

"Out of her crib," I told him with a nod. Poor Mom. She'd missed it. But I hadn't, and
my heart suddenly felt a whole lot lighter.

"I'll get her. You get her stuff and your camera and those prints, too. We'll give them to
the police even though they probably wouldn't be evidence admissible in court." Zach walked
over to his sister and picked her up. When he realized I hadn't moved, he said, "Chop-chop,
Ally."

"'Chop-chop'?"

"Means hurry. It's British. Now would you, please?"

"You collect foreign slang, too?"
Good grief.

"Only British. Oh, and Spanish, naturally. Hurry!"

I pivoted and jogged to Mom's room, where I grabbed Kayly's bag, stuffing extra
diapers and a change of clothes haphazardly into it. Then I walked to the kitchen and filled her
sippy cup and a couple of bottles. Who knew how long we'd be at the police station?

Police station.

Everything hit me at once like a great, huge punch to the gut. My knees buckled. I sat
right down on the floor near the fridge, trembling like a cell phone set on vibrate and trying to
come to grips with the fact that someone somewhere really and truly hated me. And they might
actually have been inside my apartment, trashing it! It was just so...bizarre. I was a total nobody.
And my parents were basically nobodies, too.

"Ally, move it!" Zach called, apparently unaware that I sat not fifteen feet from him,
hidden behind the bar.

"Over here."

"What in blue blazes?"

In a heartbeat he stood looking down at me. "What are you doing?"

I shook my head, unable to speak as emotion bubbled up inside and brimmed over into
noisy tears that splashed onto my blouse.

Zach handed me Kayly, then pulled us both up and sort of marched me to the couch. I
sank down on to it. He took Kayly, looked all around, then stuck her in her walker.

"Take some deep breaths or something," he said when he got back to me.

"I think...I'm going...to hurl."

"No you're not. Breathe, Ally. Breathe."

I breathed, or tried to. It wasn't easy with my teeth chattering.

"You're going into shock." Zach strode from the room and headed down the hall,
returning seconds later with my Mom's huge bedspread, which he draped over my shoulders and
tucked around me. "Don't move."

I watched, shivering, while he walked to the kitchen and began searching the cabinets
for something. He pulled a mug from a shelf, filled it with water and stuck it in the microwave.
While that heated, he located instant coffee.

I despised the stuff. Smelled incredible. Tasted like dirt. But when Zach thrust a hot mug
into my hands a couple of minutes later and said, "Drink," well, I did. He tone did not invite
debate.

Man, was it nasty. But it did the trick. I felt my toes and fingers begin to thaw. My face
began to flush, too, but not from the coffee. Zach now knelt in front of me, briskly rubbing my
arms through the blanket as if the friction might result in heat.

Believe me, it did, but probably not in the way he intended. His gaze, so intent, yet
caring, sent an electrical charge clear to my toenails. His warm breath fanned my cheeks. His
mouth, about two inches from mine, begged to be kissed. I could not drag my gaze from those
lips of his.

"Better?"

You have no idea.
Somehow I managed a nod.

"Good. Where are your shoes? We need to leave now."

Ten minutes later we got out of Zach's car in the visitor parking area at the police
station.

"I want to speak to someone besides Officer Cranford," Zach said, when the lady at the
front desk asked what she could do for us. He held Kayly. I held her bag. "It's about a threat
letter."

She looked at us over the top of her bifocals, but did not argue, instead ushering us to a
room filled with desks and what I assumed were cops, some in uniform, some not.

"Sergeant Pitt, these young people need your assistance."

Sergeant Pitt, who looked to be in his mid-thirties and wore plain clothes, could've been
Mr. June on the Cops for Kids calendar that came out every year as a fundraiser for a local
children's charity. He was that cute. And buff. Way buff.

I guess I must've reacted in some way to his appearance. At any rate Zach gave me a
sharp look.

"Gary Pitt. What can I do for you?" Sergeant Pitt asked, his gaze shifting from Zach to
me to Zach.

Without introducing himself, Zach carefully dug the envelope out of his back pocket
and, holding it by the corner, thrust it at Sergeant Pitt with a curt, "We've both touched this, but
you might not want to."

Frowning slightly, Sergeant Pitt reached into his desk drawer and pulled out gloves,
which he slipped on. He then took the envelope and pulled the folded sheet from it. He quickly
read the note. "You're Ally Mills?"

"Yes."

He looked at Zach. "And you're?"

"Zach Thomas. Her half-sister's half-brother." He shrugged. "It's complicated."

"So this cutie is your half-sister?" Sergeant Pitt directed the question to me.

I nodded. "Her name is Kayly."

"Where are your parents?"

"Well, my mom is in London until Sunday."

"But she knows about this?" He indicated the letter he still held.

"Not exactly. I haven't told her about either of the letters. I-I didn't wa--"

"You got another one?"

I exchanged a glance with Zach. "Wednesday. I called 9-1-1, and Officer Cranford came
to my mom's apartment. He took the letter."

"What's your mom's name?"

I told him.

"What about your dad? Where is he?"

"I don't actually know."

Officer Pitt took this in stride. "What's his name?"

"Clint Wilson."

"Clint Wilson?" He said the name as if he recognized it.

Zach and I exchanged a quick glance.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Maybe." Sergeant Pitt stood and motioned for us to follow him into another office,
small, but presently vacant. There he pointed out chairs for us to sit in. He shut the door firmly,
then sort of perched on the edge of the desk directly in front of us. "Did your dad get his masters
in Justice Policy at UT San Antonio?"

"Yes," I told him, a bold-faced lie...or maybe it wasn't. I mean, my mom attended
UTSA. It made sense that she'd met dad there. "So you do know him?"

"I do. We worked together on a case in Houston a few years back when I was a
rookie."