On the Line (15 page)

“Or she just does it more than we thought,” Kelsey said as her shoulders drooped.
She leaned her head against Patrick’s shoulder and eyed Janelle. “What was my puppet
like?” she asked softly.

Janelle inhaled deeply, unsure what Kelsey would think of the puppet Zach made to
represent her. She slowly released the breath. “He put a suitcase in your hands.”

Kelsey’s eyebrow rose and her head lifted slightly. “Is that all?”

“Why?” Patrick asked.

“Because she’s gone so much,” Janelle answered Patrick then looked at Kelsey. “What
were you expecting?”

Kelsey was silent, her eyes focused to the upper corner of the room as her teeth
rubbed against her bottom lip. “I don’t know. Just worse, I guess. Things feel different
now that he knows I gave him away. I guess I was expecting something along those
lines.”

They fell silent for a little while as a few tears slid down Kelsey’s cheeks. Patrick
put his arm around her, comforting her as she quietly cried. When she could no longer
watch, Janelle stood and walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine,
and took a long sip.

Giving Zach up had not been an easy thing for Kelsey to do. They both knew that Janelle
had been the driving force in the adoption. They’d both
agreed that it was the best
thing for Zach, and they’d agreed to tell him at some point. But they’d never planned
on Richard’s descent into madness. They’d never expected him to reveal the truth
in such dramatic fashion.

Sometimes, she really hated that man.

“So what happened next?” Patrick asked.

Janelle looked up to see him helping Kelsey lower herself onto a stool, then they
both turned expectant gazes on her.

“Nothing, really.” Janelle shrugged as she set the wine glass on the counter. “Andrew
wanted to have Zach use the puppets to act out a few scenes, happy scenes from birthdays
and stuff, but after Zach had created the puppets and explained his choices, we were
out of time.”

“Do you think I could come with you for the next session?” Kelsey’s eyes were wide
and pleading.

Janelle frowned. “I don’t know, but I can ask.” She took another long sip of her
wine. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Kelsey asked.

“Because you know that what Richard told him about you wasn’t positive,” Janelle
started. “And the way Zach sees you right now is colored by Richard’s words. It may
make you uncomfortable or sad.”

“Janelle’s right,” Patrick said as he placed his chin on Kelsey’s head and his arm
around her shoulder. “Just trust the process and know that Zach still loves you and
everything will work out.” He planted a kiss on the crown of Kelsey’s head as she
looked down.

“Does he? It doesn’t feel like it,” Kelsey muttered.

“You know he does, Kels. He adores you. He’s just confused right now,” Janelle reassured
her sister, as she hoped her words were true. She prayed constantly that the damage
Richard had done was reversible, otherwise she didn’t know what she’d do.

Janelle finished her glass of wine and considered another until she noticed Kelsey
looking at her. She raised her eyebrow, waiting for the question she could see her
sister considering.

“Have you called Nathan today?” Kelsey asked and Janelle picked up the wine bottle.

She poured her second glass, re-corked the bottle, and put it back in the cabinet
behind her then turned back around. Only after she had picked up
her glass and downed
half of the wine in one swallow did she look at her sister again.

“No.” She wasn’t in the mood for further explanation.

The look on Kelsey’s face told her she wasn’t getting away with that.

“When was the last time you actually spoke to him?” Kelsey asked.

“Spoke to him or had a conversation? Those are two entirely different things,” Janelle
said as the warmth of the wine began to seep into her veins. She should probably
stop drinking.

“Either,” Kelsey said as she narrowed an eye on the wineglass, “or both, whatever.”

“We haven’t had an actual conversation since he left me at the hospital,” Janelle
answered. “But I spoke to him on Friday at the police station. Kind of.”

“Kind of ?” Patrick questioned as he sat down next to Kelsey.

“Yes, kind of. He didn’t seem too keen on talking to me. He ignored my attempt to
start a conversation and sort of blew me off,” Janelle said and felt tears building.
She didn’t realize they could cause such a pain in her chest. “So I haven’t tried
to call him since then.”

Kelsey tilted her head and frowned. “Really? That’s it?”

“What else would there be, Kelsey? He didn’t answer any of my calls for a week and
when he finally saw me again, he pretended I didn’t exist. He obviously doesn’t want
to talk to me about anything, so yeah, that’s it.” Janelle’s volume increased as
she spoke and she paused to get her racing heart under control.

“Can you really blame him, though? I can’t,” she finished softly. “I let him believe
I cared about him,”
which I did
, “and then ended it so quickly that we both got whiplash.
And when he found out about the baby, I lied. So many times I knowingly lied and
told him it wasn’t his. For what?” Janelle looked at Kelsey and frowned. “I don’t
blame him for hating me Kelsey, but I have a head start on that. No one could possibly
hate me more than I hate myself for what I did to him.”

“J—”

Janelle held up her hand. “I’m going to bed.”

She dumped the remainder of her wine down the drain, left her glass in
the sink,
and went upstairs, ignoring Kelsey’s and Patrick’s stares and gaping mouths.

Nathan sat cross-legged in the hallway, bouncing McClane’s tennis ball against the
wall in front of him. Night had fallen, but the only light in the house came from
the glow of his cell phone on the floor in the circle of his legs.

She hadn’t called.

He’d explained everything to Mason at lunch after they’d seen Janelle at the police
station. His brother had pointed out that he was going beyond following orders and
was simply being rude. Mason had suggested that Nathan at least explain to Janelle
why he couldn’t talk to her. He’d also pointed out that Captain Little wouldn’t know
if Nathan and Janelle shared a phone conversation or two. After the meal, Nathan
had considered calling her, but he wasn’t sure if he could start the conversation
without coming across angry. He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to begin,
so he’d decided that he would answer the phone the next time she called.

The problem was, it had been four days and she hadn’t called once.

Not that he could really blame her. He hadn’t been able to have the conversation
he’d wanted to have with her, so he had resorted to not saying anything. Probably
not the wisest course of action. But then, until the investigations were over, he
couldn’t risk being near her. It would bring unwarranted questions about Richard’s
death. Neither he nor she had anything to do with it; but, as Captain Little had
pointed out, any association between them now could be seen as suspicious and one,
or both, of them could be accused of murder.

He caught the ball and looked down at the silent phone again.

The only conclusion Nathan could draw was that Mason was probably right. She’d seen
his behavior at the station as rude and inconsiderate, and he’d done serious damage
to whatever remained of their relationship. How could he fix that without going against
his captain’s orders?

The phone rang and he looked down at it. He didn’t recognize the
number, but there
was something familiar about it. He picked it up and pressed the speaker button.

“Hello,” Nathan answered.

“Hey, Nathan, it’s Patrick.”

A smile slowly crept across Nathan’s face. This might be the solution he was looking
for.

Ten

Nathan placed his case on the table then laid his rifle and shotgun beside it. He
flipped up the latches on either side of the lid and lifted it, revealing his two
personal handguns. Carefully, he picked them up from their padded resting spots in
the top of the case and laid them on the table beside the larger guns. He picked
up the padding and looked into the case, at the ammunition and the empty cartridges.
Nathan was looking forward to spending the next few hours at the nearly empty shooting
range, honing his skills and relieving some stress.

It was a clear, spring day. The air smelled clean and fresh, and Nathan took a long,
relaxing sniff. He hoped he’d be able to clear his head, settle his nerves, and get
rid of his cabin fever. The investigations were taking longer than they should, especially
the one into Richard’s death. That case should have been closed already. Even if
they didn’t think it was exactly suicide, Richard’s death came at his own hand, because
of his own actions. Any other reasons they might find came as a direct result of
everything Richard had done.

“A shooting range?”

The corner of Nathan’s mouth lifted slightly as he looked up and watched Patrick
climb out of Kelsey’s Jeep. Patrick closed the door and then closed the distance
between them, stopping on the other side of the T-shaped table.

“Why not? It’s just as good a place as any.” Nathan pulled out two pairs of earmuffs
and two pairs of safety glasses. “And it’s great for stress relief.”

“I suppose.” Patrick stared at the guns, his mouth turned down in a frown.

When he reached for one of the handguns, Nathan noticed a slight shake in Patrick’s
hand. Nathan had forgotten the last time Patrick had touched a gun was in the cabin.

“Man, I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “If you’d rather not shoot, we can find somewhere
else to chat.”

With a gun in his hand, aimed downward and away from them both, Patrick looked at
Nathan and shrugged. “No, I’m good.” He checked to see if it was loaded and placed
the gun back on the table and put on a pair of safety glasses. “Shooting isn’t something
I do often, but I was trained for an action role a couple of years ago and was taught
how to handle a weapon.”

Nathan nodded, and the two of them loaded all of the cartridges then put them in
the guns.

“What are we shooting at?” Patrick asked, and Nathan looked out at the plinking range.

There weren’t many targets available, so he retrieved a few items from his truck—an
empty soda bottle, an empty milk jug, and his favorite target, a bright-orange, rubber
pyramid. “This should do it,” Nathan said as he threw all of them as far as he could
onto the range. He walked back to the table, motioned to the guns, and looked at
Patrick. “Guest first.”

Patrick put the ear protection on, picked his gun—the rifle—and walked to the shooting
line in front of the table. After he squeezed off a few rounds, Nathan took his turn.
After all of the guns were empty of ammunition, they took off their muffs and began
to reload.

“How are you doing?” Nathan asked.

“Good, I suppose,” Patrick answered. He looked at the cartridge in his hand. “You
know, I barely remember what happened that night.”

“Really?” Nathan set his full magazine down and placed his hands on the table. “What
do you remember?”

Patrick set everything in his hands down and looked over the range. “I remember being
scared to death when I heard her begging him to kill her instead of Zach.”

Nathan shuddered. He hadn’t heard that Kelsey had tried to bargain with her life.
Given the situation, he imagined Janelle would have done the same thing, and a cool
chill went through him.

“When I heard the gunshot after I got Zach out of the house, I just went
into automatic
survival mode.” Patrick picked up a reloaded handgun and walked to the firing line.
“I was so relieved when I heard her voice after I crawled into the house.” He fired
at the rubber triangle and it danced across the ground. “All I could think was that
I had to stay alive so I could make sure she survived.” Patrick shot the last few
rounds and walked back to the table and set the gun down.

“Did you shoot him?” Nathan asked coolly.

Patrick met Nathan’s stare, his eyes empty and devoid of anything. “I honestly don’t
know,” he answered and shrugged. “But I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”

Nathan picked up the rifle and stepped to the firing line and pulled the trigger.
When his ammunition was used up, he returned to the table. “Me either,” he agreed
softly.

“I’ll bet,” Patrick said with a slight lift to his lips. “Which brings me to the
reason I called you.”

Nathan had wondered when they would get to that. Patrick had accepted Nathan’s invitation
to join him in part because he didn’t want Kelsey or Janelle to overhear their conversation.

Patrick laid the rifle’s newly loaded cartridge on the table and placed his palms
on either side of it. His eyes narrowed on the table’s surface like he was considering
what he wanted to say. “I want to know what’s going on between you and Janelle, or
where you would like to see things go.”