Indelible (39 page)

“That's right,” Hoss said. “How'd you like it if I
let it out that you and Robert were more than friends?”

Jeffrey snorted a laugh.

“For all I know,” Hoss continued, “maybe you were.”

“Right.”

“You two fuckbuddies?” Hoss goaded, desperation pouring off him. “You want everybody in town to hear that? You want your mama to find out? Maybe somebody'll tell your daddy down at the prison?”

“You can tell my daddy yourself when you see him, you pathetic old fuck.”

“You watch that mouth.”

“Or what?”

“I protected you!” Hoss yelled. “You think your father would have done that? You think that worthless bastard would've helped you?”

Jeffrey slammed his fist into the desk. “I didn't want your help!”

“You sure as shit needed it!” Hoss screamed back. Blood dripped from his nose, but he kept screaming, his face turning red with anger. “I raised you, boy! I made you the man you are today!”

Jeffrey jabbed his thumb at his chest. “
I
made me the man I am today. I made myself despite you.” He felt dirty being this close to him. “I thought you were a god. You were everything I wanted to be.”

Hoss's lip quivered, as if he wanted to take Jeffrey's words as a compliment.

Jeffrey made himself clear. “You molested a teenage girl. You took a mother from her child.”

“I didn't—”

“You make me sick,” Jeffrey said, walking toward the door.

Hoss put his hand on his desk as if he needed the support. “Don't leave like this, Slick. Come on.” His tone took an edge of desperation. “What are you gonna say? What are you gonna tell people?”

“The truth,” Jeffrey said, feeling his calm return. What he saw before him was no longer his mentor, his surrogate father, but a criminal, a lying old man who had destroyed the people he was meant to protect.

“Come on, now,” Hoss said, begging. “You can't do this. You'll ruin me. You know what'll happen if you go out there and . . . please, Slick. Don't do this.” He took a step forward as if to stop Jeffrey. “You might as well put a gun to my head.” He tried a weak smile. “Come on, son. Don't look at me that way.”

“Look at you?” Jeffrey asked, putting his hand on the doorknob. “I can't even stand to see your face.”

He did not slam the door behind him, but in his mind, Jeffrey heard a resounding crash. Sara stood up, wringing her hands.

He did not know what to tell her. There would never be the right words to describe how he felt. Rudderless, that was a good one to start with. He had lost the thing that gave him direction.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and the concern in her voice was better than anything she had ever done for him.

“He came to see me after Dad was arrested,” Jeffrey told her.

“Hoss?”

“I was at Auburn, just about to graduate. I remember everything about it,” he paused, picturing the multicolored leaves on the trees that beautiful fall day. Jeffrey was sitting in his dorm room, trying to figure out how he would pay for his doctorate if Auburn accepted him into the program. He wanted to be a teacher, something respectable with a steady paycheck. He wanted to give something back.

“He knocked on the door,” Jeffrey continued. “Nobody knocked. They usually just came in. I thought somebody was playing a joke.” He leaned against the wall. “He kept knocking, and I finally opened the door and there he was with this look on his face. Told me Dad had taken a plea. Turned on his friends so he wouldn't get the death penalty. You know what he said?”

Sara shook her head.

“‘Some kind of coward,'” Jeffrey finished. “He told me I had to be a man now, that playtime was over. Playtime, like that's all I had been doing in college, just having fun. He handed me this application. It was already filled out.”

“The police academy?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I just took it and signed it and that was it.” For the first time in his life, Jeffrey found himself wondering what would have become of his life if he had told Hoss no. He would not have met Sara, for one. He would probably still be living here in Sylacauga, dealing with the same snide remarks and secretive looks that had chased Robert away.

He said, “I don't know how I'm going to do this.”

“I'll be here as long as you need me.”

“I can't even think about it,” he told her, and that was the truth. How could he do this? How could he repeat what Hoss had told him?

“It'll be fine,” she said, just as a gun exploded in Hoss's office.

Sara must have opened the door. Jeffrey did not feel like he could move. Yet, somehow, he managed to turn around. Somehow, he was facing Hoss's office.

The old man sat in his chair, one hand on the flag from his brother's coffin, the other holding his revolver. He had put the muzzle of the gun flat to his head and pulled the trigger. There was no question in Jeffrey's mind that Hoss was dead, but still, when Sara went around the desk and pressed her fingers to his neck, he managed to form the question with his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she told him. “He's dead.”

3:50
P.M.

“S
hit,” Lena hissed, trying not to jerk her hand back as Molly stuck a needle into the cut.

“I'm sorry,” Molly apologized, but she was looking over her shoulder at Sara and Jeffrey, not Lena.

Lena watched as Jeffrey was loaded into the ambulance. “Will he be okay?”

Molly nodded, though she said, “I hope so.”

“What about Marla?”

“They've got her in surgery. She's old, but she's strong.” She looked back at Lena's hand. “This is going to sting.”

“No shit,” Lena answered. The knife slicing open her skin had not hurt as much as the freaking needle.

“It'll block the pain so I can suture you.”

“Just hurry,” Lena said, biting her lip. She tasted blood and remembered her split lip. Molly jabbed in the needle again. “Christ, that hurts.”

“Just a little more.”

“Christ,” she repeated, looking away from the needle. She saw Wagner talking to Nick, both of them staring at Lena and Molly as they sat in the back room of the cleaners.

“There,” Molly said. “It should start numbing up in a few minutes.”

“It'd better,” Lena told her, feeling phantom pains from the needle. She looked through the front windows again, seeing the mess in the street. There were at least fifty GBI agents swarming around, none of them knowing what the hell they were doing. Smith was dead and Sonny was locked in the back of a squad car on his way to Macon, where he would probably have the shit beaten out of him. There was a special place in hell for cop-killers.

Lena watched Molly open the suture kit she had taken from the ambulance. “Where are the kids?”

“Back with their parents,” Molly said, laying out the kit. “I can't imagine what it was like for them. The parents, I mean. My God, when I think about it, my blood runs cold.”

Lena realized she had been clenching every muscle in her body, and she relaxed as her hand started to numb.

“Better?” Molly asked.

“Yeah,” Lena allowed. “Thanks for doing this here. I hate going to the hospital.”

“That's understandable,” Molly said, using a syringe to wash out the gash. “You only need three or four sutures. Sara's a lot better at this than I am.”

“She's tougher than I thought.”

“I think we all are,” Molly pointed out. “You had me fooled when we went into the station.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, though the compliment rang false. She had been terrified.

Molly used a pair of long tweezers to pick up a curved needle. She dug it into Lena's skin, and Lena watched, thinking how odd it was to see her flesh being pierced and feel nothing but a dull tugging as the thread went through.

“How long have you been dating Nick?”

“Not long,” Molly said, tying off the thread. “He kept asking Sara out. I guess I was the door prize.”

Lena laughed as she tried to imagine Nick and Sara together. “Sara's about ten feet taller than he is.”

“She's also in love with Jeffrey,” Molly reminded her, as if that was not obvious. “Oh, God, I remember the first time I saw them together.” She tied the suture. Lena felt the same dull tug as she punctured the skin again. “I've never seen her so giddy.”

“Giddy?” Lena echoed, thinking she had heard wrong. Sara was one of the most serious people she had ever met.

“Giddy,” Molly confirmed. “Like a schoolgirl.” She tied off the second thread, making a neat knot. “One more, I think.”

“I've never thought about him that way.”

“Jeffrey?” Molly asked, as if it surprised her. “He's gorgeous.”

“I guess,” Lena shrugged. “That'd be kind of like dating your father, though.”

“Maybe for you,” Molly said in a suggestive tone. She dug into the skin one more time and tied off the third suture. “There you go,” she said, cutting the thread just above the knot. “All set.”

“Thank you.”

“The scar shouldn't be bad.”

“I'm not worried about that,” Lena said, flexing her hand. The fingers moved, but she could not feel them.

“Take some Tylenol when it starts to hurt. I can have Sara call in something for you if you like.”

“That's okay,” Lena said. “She's got more important things to worry about.”

“She wouldn't mind,” Molly offered.

“No,” Lena assured her. “Thanks.”

“All right,” Molly said, wrapping the suturing kit. She gave a groan as she stood. “Now, I think I am going home to a large glass of wine and my children.”

“That sounds nice,” Lena said.

“My mother has kept them away from the news. I don't know how I'm going to tell them about this.”

“You'll think of something,” Lena told her.

Molly smiled. “Take care.”

“Thanks,” Lena answered, sliding off the table.

Nick passed her as she walked toward the front of the cleaners. He said, “We'll need to debrief you tomorrow.”

“You know how to find me.”

Wagner was leaning against the front counter, her cell phone plastered to her ear. When she saw Lena, she said, “Wait a minute,” into the phone, then told Lena, “Good work, Detective.”

“Thanks,” Lena said.

“You ever want to run with the big dogs,” Wagner offered, “give me a call.”

Lena looked out into the street, watching the local
agents strutting around like they had saved the day. She thought about Jeffrey, and how he had given her a second chance. Being honest, it was more like a fifth or sixth chance.

She gave Wagner a smile. “No thanks. I think I'll stay where I am.”

Wagner shrugged, like it was no skin off her back. She went back to her call, saying, “We'll obviously need to interrogate him tonight. I don't want him talking to the other inmates and figuring out he needs a lawyer.”

Lena pushed open the door with her good hand, nodding to some of the men in the street. She belonged here. She was a part of them. She was Frank's partner again. She was a cop. Hell, maybe she was more than that.

She walked toward the college. Now that the standoff was over, the rent-a-cop from campus security was standing sentry at his car. He tipped his hat to her as she walked by, and Lena, feeling generous, nodded back.

There was a welcome breeze in the air as she walked up the main drive to the student dorms. Lena touched her fingers to her belly. She wondered what was in there, what kind of parent she could be. After today, she was beginning to think that not everything was impossible.

The campus was pretty empty, most of the kids probably glued to their televisions or sacked out on their beds, thankful for a day without classes. Downtown was still blocked off, but Lena figured in a few hours they would start to file out, rubbernecking, trying to absorb some of the drama that
had unfolded today. They would call their parents and cry about how horrible it was. The dean would be handling more calls from angry parents, like this kind of thing could be controlled by anybody.

Ethan's dorm this year was quieter than the one he had lived in when Lena had first met him. All-night parties and weekend binges were not exactly his style, and he had managed to befriend the professor in charge of assigning dorm space and gotten placed in a quieter hall.

She climbed the three steps up to the concrete porch, passing a few students as they left the dorm. Ethan's room had been a closet at some point, and even though the university had no qualms about stacking students in dorms like sides of beef, they had not had the gall to make him share. He had measured the space once while Lena watched, surprised that at eight feet by eleven it was bigger than they both had thought.

She knocked on the door before opening it. Ethan was sitting in bed with a book on his lap. The little television on the bookcase showed the news, the sound turned off.

He asked, “What are you doing here?”

“You wanted me to come by after work.”

“Wanted,” he said. “Past tense. Not anymore.”

Lena leaned against the door. “Do you know what kind of day I've had?”

“Do you know what kind of day
I've
had?” he shot back, slamming the book closed.

“Ethan—”

“‘I'll take care of it,'” he interrupted. “That's what you said. ‘I'll take care of it.'”

“I didn't mean—”

“Are you pregnant?”

She stared at him, feeling an ache in the pit of her stomach. For the first time since she had met him, Lena did not want to be alone, even if it meant being here on Ethan's terms.

“Are you going to answer me?”

She finally said, “No.”

“You're lying.”

“I'm not,” she insisted, making things up as she went along. “I started my period after we talked. It must have been the stress.”

“You said you were going to take care of it if you were.”

“But I'm not.”

He got off the bed and walked toward her. She felt herself relax until she saw his clenched fist coming up and slamming into her stomach. Lena doubled over from the pain, and he put his hand on her back, keeping her down, whispering, “If you ever ‘take care of' anything that's mine, I'll kill you.”

“Oh,” she cried, trying to breathe.

“Get out of here,” he said, shoving her back into the hall. He slammed the door so hard that the bulletin board he kept outside crashed to the ground.

Lena reached out for the wall, trying to straighten herself. Pain shot through her gut, and she felt tears well into her eyes.

Two students were at the front of the hall by the doorway, and she walked past them, trying to keep her spine as straight as possible. She maintained her composure until she was behind the dorm, hidden in the woods where no one could see her.

She leaned against a tree, letting herself sink to the ground. The dirt was wet underneath her, but she did not care.

Her cell phone chirped as it powered up. She waited for the signal, then dialed in a number. Tears streamed down her face as she listened to the ringing on the other end.

“Hello?”

Lena opened her mouth to speak, but she could only cry.

“Hello?” Hank said, then because probably no one else called her uncle in the middle of the afternoon bawling like a child, he said, “Lee? Honey, is that you?”

Lena choked back a sob. “Hank,” she finally managed. “I need you.”