Lies Still Told, page 19
Still, he played Rena’s video, this time watching the whole thing. While she’d thought that the two women were the key parts, he wanted to make sure they weren’t missing anything else. But when it was all over, he thought she was probably right. Tawny Lane had visited three times during the year. A minister from a local church had gone twice. Four different men had each come once. They were all members of the Vietnam veterans group that Badger belonged to.
When he was done, he was no closer to figuring out what it was about the two women that was driving him crazy. Still, he shut off his computer. He’d let it rumble around in his head tonight and tomorrow. When he came back to work on the twenty-sixth, he’d go after it again then. The judge had issued the order to the Wild End Tavern, and Ferguson had hand-delivered it to the bar. So hopefully, he’d also have that to look at as well.
Chapter Sixteen
Rena generally enjoyed going to her mother-in-law’s house. Had accepted early on that the Morgans enjoyed getting together as a family. Had rarely even bothered to defend the ritual when A.L. chose to wonder aloud about the numerous reasons that Gabe’s mother could come up with to cook a pot roast.
She liked Gabe’s sisters and appreciated that, from the beginning, they’d made her feel like part of the family. She still liked Gabe’s brother, Danny, even though he’d made things super awkward the previous year when he’d attempted to kiss her in the pantry of his mother’s house. She’d fended him off, but the damage had been done. Gabe, who knew her so well, had guessed at what had happened and handled it better than most. It was a secret that she, Gabe and Danny would take to their grave—and maybe after, if the Morgans all ended up at one big table in the hereafter. If Mrs. Morgan had her way, and if lighting candles at church held any sway, that was likely.
But tonight, Christmas Eve, Rena was not looking forward to dinner. It would be the first time she’d seen any of them since the shooting. She’d gotten a few texts afterward, mostly expressing gratitude that she was okay. But when the phone had rung, she’d taken a chicken’s way out and let the calls roll over to voice mail. More than once. To the point that the family had started calling only Gabe. He’d had to give the explanation of what had happened and provide updates on how Rena was doing.
Were they disappointed in her? Not that she wouldn’t come to the phone but, more important, in what she’d done? Did they think she’d made a bad decision?
Worse, were they paying a price? Even to Gabe, she’d not been able to express that fear. Had Danny’s kids gotten hassled at school because they had the same last name as the cop who killed the teenager? Had Gabe’s mother’s friends suddenly stopped calling her? Was Rena going to see something in their eyes tonight that said that their lives were different now because of her?
If they asked about the shooting tonight, she had the easy out. She’d simply tell them that she couldn’t talk about it while she was on administrative leave pending investigation. They’d buy that without argument. But because they were family, and because they loved her, they might push a little. Might say that they didn’t care about the particulars of the shooting, but they did want to know how she was doing.
And she wasn’t sure she was up to the task of keeping up the brave front. Because, in truth, she wasn’t doing all that well. Going to the holiday luncheon had been tough. It had been sweet in that she’d seen a lot of her fellow officers, who’d offered support. And her discussion with A.L. about the video had felt really great. She had made a good find, and it was a big boost to her confidence to know that she might have helped the investigation along. But standing at A.L.’s desk and not being able to sit in her own chair and go through the files on her own desk had been much harder than she’d anticipated.
The oddest thing had been that leaving there today had almost been harder than on the day Faster had original suspended her. Today, it had seemed more…final.
A.L. would tell her that she was being crazy. That the luncheon happened every year and had nothing to do with her. He would be right, but he would also be wrong. Because it seemed to her that people had been saying goodbye to her today. Were they reading the newspaper articles and thinking that the facts didn’t look good for her? Were they thinking that it was likely that the Review Board would get caught up in the politics of the moment and that a decent cop was going to get the short end of the stick? Were they thinking of her in the past tense?
“We should go,” Gabe said, interrupting her musing. And her procrastination. She’d still not made the dip to go with the relish tray that Gabe had gotten ready. It wasn’t hard to make. Just had to add the seasoning packet of ranch dressing to a container of sour cream. But she’d just not been able to make herself do it.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, pushing her chair back. “Bad to be late when you’re the ones bringing appetizers,” she added with forced gaiety.
He reached for her hand. “You don’t have to put on a brave front for me, Rena.”
She stilled. “I do,” she said softly. “I think I do.”
“Why?”
Could she tell him? Could she be that truthful? “Because you would hate it to know how terribly sad I really am. And I don’t want that for you. So I pretend. Even for you.”
He sighed and drew her close, tucking her head under his chin. “If I could do anything, I’d change what happened that night. You’d have never gone to that store. You’d have come home that night from work, like every other night.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell your mother that I was there to buy her gift.”
“She’ll never know.”
She would not. Gabe had gone to a store yesterday and bought her a necklace. Rena was grateful for that. She might never be able to look at a teapot again.
“I don’t want you to have to pretend for me,” he said.
“I love you,” she said simply.
“I know.” He kissed her. “Rena, every good thing that has ever happened in my life since the day I met you has been better because you’ve been there to share it. Every bad thing has been more bearable because you’ve been there to help carry the load. I want to be that person for you. I…I need to be that person for you.” He paused. “And when you don’t let me be that person for you, you’re not being fair to me.”
When he put it like that, she understood. And Gabe had already proven time and time again, through multiple unsuccessful rounds of IVF, that he was made of pretty stern stuff. “I don’t mean to sell you short, Gabe. I’m sorry. But right now, all I can say is that I’ll be okay. Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after. Regardless of what happens. I’ll be okay because I have you. Us. I just need to stay focused on that.”
“You’re going to be okay because of all that and because the Review Board is going to do the right thing and get you back to work. I know it, Rena. I just know it.”
She hoped he was right. But it was out of her hands. They needed to deal with the present. Needed to celebrate Christmas with his family. “Five minutes and we’re out this door.”
He let her go, and seven minutes later, the dip was done, and the food was loaded in the car. On the drive over, he reached for her hand. “If anyone says anything to you tonight that upsets you, let me know.”
“Your family is the best, they really are. And right now, they are probably all sitting around your mom’s table, discussing how they have to be careful to not say anything that might upset me. Because that’s the kind of people they are. The reason I love all of them.”
“Don’t tell Danny you love him,” Gabe said wryly.
“He made one pass,” she said, waving a hand.
“One too many,” Gabe said.
“You and I can’t possibly regret it more than he does,” she said.
“You’re right. By the way, I did hear that he’s dating again. My mom said that she’s a very nice woman. They met at some kind of parents’ thing at the school. She has a daughter.”
“Oh my gosh, are she and the daughter coming tonight?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s serious enough yet to warrant spending the holidays together,” Gabe said.
“Still, I’m happy for him. He’s been a widower for almost three years. It’s time for him to date again.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. He didn’t say more until he turned the final corner to approach his mother’s house. “You know, I thought about Danny a lot in the first few hours after the shooting. You were still at the police station, giving your statement. I was wandering around the house, thinking that if things had gone just a little bit differently, I’d be like Danny, a man who lost his wife way too early. It was…terrifying.”
She put her hand on his knee and squeezed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“It puts things into perspective quick. I want us to start thinking again about a child. Really look at the possibilities of adoption. I want to share a child with you, Rena.”
They’d been close months ago when they’d identified a woman who was willing to be a carrier for them. Gabe’s sperm, Rena’s egg and the woman’s uterus. But ultimately, Rena had pulled the plug on the deal because the woman had had a personal relationship with a dipshit. A criminal dipshit. Once the deal had been called off, it had seemed that Rena and Gabe had each retreated to their private caves to lick their wounds. This was the first time Gabe had brought up the topic of a child again.
“I’m ready,” she said. “We’re in the same place.”
He parked the car. Then leaned in to kiss her. “We share a heart. How can we not be in the same place?”
She smiled. “Corny.”
“As corny as they come. We better get inside. Little makes my mom happier than having all of us there.”
“I’d stand on my head to make your mom happy,” Rena said.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that. Try juggling first.”
In the end, she didn’t have to juggle or evade any really difficult questions. As she suspected, the family was careful. They hugged her tight, told her how happy they were that she was safe and didn’t ask any questions.
About that. They were full of them when Gabe mentioned that he and Rena would be attending the mayor’s New Year’s Eve fundraiser. His sisters wanted the details on her dress. “I don’t know,” Rena said. “I haven’t had a chance to shop.”
“I have one. It would be perfect,” his youngest sister said. “Black, long, off one shoulder. Sexy. I’m sure it will fit.”
It probably would. They had a similar build. “Are you sure?” she asked, not able to tell them that she was still waffling about going.
“Absolutely. I’ve only worn it once. It’s been dry-cleaned and is just hanging in my closet.”
“Sold,” Rena said. Well, that was one worry off the table. The rest of the evening flew by as they shared dessert, opened presents and chatted in front of the gas fireplace while they killed time waiting for church services to start. Shortly after ten, cars were started to give them a chance to warm up for the ten-minute drive.
Then it was the whole kit and kaboodle sliding into a pew. Gabe’s mother, Gabe and Rena, his two sisters and their husbands and their four children, Danny and his two boys. They took up a whole row. The children’s choir was singing, their voices sweet and light. Rena caught a glimpse of a little one’s wide-mouthed yawn. It was late for the kids to be up, but it was a tradition at this church that the kids sang during Christmas Eve Mass.
Was it even possible that in five or six years, she and Gabe could be watching their child? Gabe had surprised her tonight with his sudden admission. The IVF process had been so difficult and after the last disaster, they’d agreed to hold off on any baby discussions for a while. After all, Gabe was starting a new job. Their income was less now.
The reasons not to add a child into the mix were compelling.
The reason to was less defined, less articulated. It was more of an ache.
When the last prayer was said, and the final hymn was sung, parishioners exited the church, many of them chatting and talking with friends. Rena and Gabe hugged and kissed the other family members, wishing them a Merry Christmas and a good night. Then Gabe’s mom struck up a conversation with the priest, who had come out to bid his flock goodbye. Rena and Gabe stood off to the side. They’d driven his mom to church and needed to take her home.
When the priest, who had gone to school with Gabe, waved him over, Rena decided it was a good time to bow out. “I’ll get the car,” she said, grabbing for the keys in Gabe’s hand.
She walked across the big parking lot, noting that it had mostly emptied out. Less than twenty cars remained. She was surprised when she heard raised voices. Across two rows and down twenty feet.
What the heck? Instinct had her edging closer. But she stopped when she saw who it was.
A.L.’s dad and uncle. Arguing in the church parking lot. Literally in each other’s faces. She was close enough to make out the words.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” This from A.L.’s dad.
“I know a fucking problem when I see one,” was Uncle Joe’s response. “And right now, he’s a fucking problem.”
Good grief. Rena looked around, hoping there weren’t any little kids within hearing distance. She didn’t see any.
“I’m done talking to you about it,” Uncle Joe said.
“What’s that mean?” A.L.’s dad demanded.
“You figure it out. You’re so goddamned smart.” With that, Uncle Joe got into the vehicle he was standing next to, started it and took off, leaving A.L.’s father standing in the cold with his mouth open.
After a few seconds, A.L.’s dad got into his own vehicle and left, going the opposite way. Rena watched him until she could no longer see his taillights. What the heck was that about? The two men had been in church together. She’d seen them across the way, sitting in their usual spot. But something had set them off.
She got into her car and drove up to the front door. Gabe’s mother waved at her, said something to the priest, and then she and Gabe walked over to the car. “Curbside service,” she said, getting in. “I could get used to this life.”
Rena smiled. But she wasn’t happy. Witnessing the interaction between Francis and Joe McKittridge had left her unsettled. She couldn’t help feeling that this had something to do with the Platt Waymann case, something to do with A.L.’s commitment to investigating the man’s murder. Now that she’d seen it, she wasn’t sure what to do about it. Should she tell A.L.? He’d be pissed if he found out that she’d seen something like this and hadn’t passed it on. Right? But it was Christmas Eve. She looked at her watch. Actually, now it was very early on Christmas Day.
This could wait. She wasn’t going to ruin A.L.’s holiday.
A.L. rolled over when he smelled the coffee. He opened his eyes and saw it on the bedside table. “Oh, now that’s beautiful,” he said.
“Me in my Christmas jammies or the coffee?” Tess asked, standing next to the bed.
He put a hand under the silky camisole. Her skin was warm and soft. “Both.”
She shrugged and climbed into bed next to him. She had her own cup of coffee. “I’m still not cooking breakfast.”
“That’s on me. You did last night.” It was the first time he’d ever had baked macaroni and cheese with lobster. And it had been delicious.
“It was pretty good,” she said. “It was funny, at one point, when you were cutting up the lettuce for the salad, and I was chopping the asparagus, it reminded me of how we met. And how far we’ve come.”
They had met when he and Rena had tracked Tess to a remote cottage. She’d been hiding, from herself, from life, post-amputation. What she hadn’t realized was that she was set to be the next victim of a serial killer. He and Rena had had to break the news. It hadn’t gone spectacularly well, but in the end, they’d had to eat, and the three of them had worked together to prepare a meal. “We should have called Rena,” he said.
She shook her head. “Three would have been a crowd. You know, later.”
Indeed. After dinner last night, they’d cleaned up the kitchen, watched an old movie on television and gone to bed. Where three would definitely have been a crowd. They’d not exchanged gifts the night before, deciding that they would do that on Christmas morning.
“I need to call her and see what her dress is like for the mayor’s fundraiser,” Tess said. “Marnee and I are going shopping tomorrow in Madison.”
She was driving to her daughter’s apartment later this afternoon and spending the night. She was excited about that. He could relate. He was looking forward to seeing his own kid. He talked to or texted her most every day, but those were fast words, conversation in bits. He wanted a chance to slow down, to catch up with his little girl.
They needed to talk about college. Going wasn’t a question. Where was the big if. She had yanked his chain with talk of New York or Los Angeles or some other East or West Coast fantasy. But those conversations had occurred mostly prior to John being visible in the picture. A.L. wanted to know where her head was these days. When he’d asked Jacqui, her responses had been cryptic and unsatisfactory. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
He finished the last of his coffee. It would be the first cup of many. “I guess I’ll start the bacon.”
She rolled into him and put her head on his chest. “Are you terribly hungry?” she asked.
He gave her a side-eye. “Sounds like a loaded question.”
“It would be a great Christmas gift,” she said, reaching under the covers.
It was morning. He didn’t need a lot of encouragement. “We still need to do that. Exchange gifts,” he said, kissing her collarbone.
