your possible legal problems, now that your relationship with Ali is public knowledge.”
“Legal problems?”
“A potential statutory-rape charge.”
He flushed red all over. “It won’t come to that. It was consensual. She was nearly an adult.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Nina agreed. “But you should be thinking about the possibility.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Call Ali. Jeff Riesner said that someone contacted him. Was it Ali, and if it was, why did she do that? Why, at the very last minute? Would she talk to you about it?”
“Oh, geez. Call her? Her parents must be so pissed. Now that she had to go to court-” He took note of Nina’s face and a puzzled expression came into his eyes. “Would it help me get my kids? Could Lisa have stolen my file? It’s so complicated. I’m all confused. I get mixed up and I make mistakes.”
He has a big heart and a small brain, she thought, then mentally kicked herself. “Never mind, Kevin. It’s all right. I’ll find out another way. I just want to know if her appearance in court was somehow related to the loss of my files.”
“Why? Who cares at this point?”
“Well, there were two other files.”
“Oh, right. Big problems for you. Listen. I’ll talk to her. I want to talk to her. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I just don’t want to make things worse, is all.”
“Maybe I’m wrong to ask you, but I think it would really help,” Nina said. “You’re a police officer, Kevin. You can do this carefully. This might be useful to you in other ways, too. Maybe talking to Ali will help you find out whether the D.A.’s considering a charge against you. And we really need to find out what happened, how Lisa’s lawyer learned about Ali.”
“Why don’t you just ask Riesner?”
“Because he and I have a history. We don’t get along.”
Darkness shrouded Kevin’s face, and Nina thought, I have to be careful not to make Kevin any more angry. She knew it was tricky, putting him in contact with Ali. But she wanted to start fighting back, and Ali was a lead.
Kevin was settling in. He waved at the waitress, who swooped down in a flash.
“Ready to order?”
Nina checked her watch. “I told you. I have to go.”
“Don’t leave!” Kevin said. He sent the waitress away. “I’m so alone right now. Please don’t leave me.” He gave her those sad eyes. She could see how he might look in ten years. He would age fast, the slight pouches under his eyes and chin would coarsen his face, the sad expression would harden to bitterness, the extra bulk would lead to a big belly, and too much smoking would lead to wheezing breath and coughing spells when he woke up in the morning.
She hoped she was wrong, that he would find happiness with someone new, that he would see the kids regularly and develop a sane visitation schedule with Lisa. That he would quit smoking. She wished that she could fix all that had gone wrong for him.
But some people never got past the divorce. It cleaved their lives too deeply.
“Call me tomorrow. We’ll talk some more,” was all she could say.
“I’ll walk you back across the street. It’s dark.”
“Don’t bother. It’s the middle of town.”
“It’s no bother.”
When they got to the truck, Nina said, “Good night. Try to get some sleep.” She touched his arm.
Kevin fell onto her like a drowning man hugging a life preserver. Bending his head down, he broke into heavy sobs. The big cop cried on her shoulder. After a few seconds, she patted his wide back. She got into the truck, putting distance between them, reminding him that they still might turn things around later.
After giving the dog his dinner, she and Bob drove straight to Matt’s house, spotting Paul pulling up in his Mustang right out front. Bob ran for the house as she walked up to greet Paul.
He opened his arms and she rushed into them. Her arms went around him and she held him tightly, kissing his slightly stubbly cheek, smelling the leather he wore on cold nights. His mouth was warm and as she pressed against him she felt his instant readiness. He was attuned to her physically, and she, melting against him, was helplessly responsive.
“Paul,” she said. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“What is it, honey?”
“Just a hard day. I missed you.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m afraid I’m starting to depend on you.”
“Is that so bad?” He caressed her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I want you to depend on me.”
“All right, then,” she said, holding his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. A few droplets fell on them, and she released him slowly.
Paul smiled at her, then turned to the Bronco. He walked all the way around it, kicked the tires, patted its hood. “Good to see you again,” he told it as Nina described the impound yard and her words with Jean Scholl. The drizzle turned to rain, and Nina began to shiver. “In we go,” Paul said. “There’s some kind of party going on in there.”
“Wait. Can you help me with this thing?”
He pulled the big box out of the truck and they ran up the steps. Paul gestured toward the mailbox. “Mind explaining the box? And those balloons?”
“You’re crashing a baby shower.”
Inside the house, they found Matt and Andrea holding court in front of the fireplace, a fire burning, a dozen other people floating like confetti around the room along with wrapping paper, paper plates, and yellow-cake debris.
“Sorry we’re late,” Nina said, helping Paul to arrange the box within Andrea’s reach.
Her younger brother, Matt, and his wife, Andrea, were expecting a third child. Andrea had been married once before and had a child during that marriage, so this would be Matt’s second biological child. Since they already had Troy and Brianna, they didn’t require one sex or the other, feeling free to root for a different sex each day depending on where whim led them, although Nina imagined Matt probably wanted a son of his own. Wasn’t that hardwired, wanting a child of your own sex? When dreaming about another universe, Nina occasionally imagined a sister for Bob, a daughter for herself.
Matt ran a tow business in winter and took tourists parasailing in summer. Nina made sure he carried heavy insurance. He made sure his equipment met tip top safety standards and groaned about the bureaucracy.
Andrea worked part time at the local women’s shelter. Matt and Andrea were Nina’s best friends. Complicated, loving, loyal people, they had built a true marriage. Matt disapproved of Nina’s profession even more than her father did, but most of the time he kept his mouth shut about it.
Matt put a beer in Paul’s hand. Paul sat beside him and drank thirstily.
Andrea pointed at Nina’s large box. “What did you bring baby?”
“This is more for the parents.”
Andrea pushed her curly red hair back from her face and went at the present with a pair of scissors. “I know I should save pretty paper but screw it,” she said. “Oh, Nina! Wow! Wonderful! You remembered how I used to rave about these things.” She went over to Nina and gave her a kiss.
“I remembered it was the most-used present I ever got.”
Someone turned on some music, Burl Ives singing “The Little White Duck.” Someone popped champagne and someone else sang along in a pleasing baritone. Children shouted, marauding through the room in bursts.
While Paul, Andrea, and Matt took turns making a mess out of assembling the automatic rocking baby chair, Nina squatted on the floor, remembering baby Bobby swinging away in the dead of night all those years before, his bright eyes wide open, his soft-spun hair, silent as long as the rocker moved. During those long nights of his infancy, she had sat up with him, looking out her window, at peace.
Her mother had given her the baby chair. Funny she had forgotten that. She thought more often of her mother lately, maybe because lately there was always that idea about moving to Carmel with Paul oscillating like static in the background of her mind. The thought came: She would be closer to her aging father if she lived with Paul in Carmel. She would be closer to her mother’s grave.
Later, Paul headed for his hotel room at Caesars alone and Nina and Bob drove home at eleven o’clock, beat. “Uh oh,” Bob said as they swung onto Pioneer Trail. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
“I have an essay due tomorrow.”
“Oh, Bob, no. You shouldn’t have gone to the party.”
“A bunch of kids were gonna be there, Mom. Aunt Andrea asked me and Troy to play games with them and keep them out of the living room.”
“I’ll write you a note.”
“Ha, ha. Make me laugh. ‘Bob had to go to a party.’ How long since you were in school, Mom? I’m dead. Forget it.”
They argued about this until Nina gave in. Back at the cabin, they dialed into the Internet and looked for anything they could find about Thomas Dewing, a nineteenth-century artist.
“He paints women to look like pieces of furniture, Mom.”
“How insightful of him. I feel like a broken-down footstool at this very moment. Can we go to bed now?”
But Bob’s research had woken him up. He had other ideas. “Mom? Sometimes I miss my dad. I wonder what it would be like. To have two parents in the same place. I mean, that party. A new baby and everything and all of them together.”
Instantly, a gap opened in her heart. She thought of the men in her life. Kevin Cruz, the father about to lose his children. Jack, Bob’s absent ex-stepfather, and Kurt, his biological father, so far away in Germany. How confusing it must seem to him. How lonely. “Call Kurt,” she urged. “It’s morning in Wiesbaden by now. You’ll probably catch him at home. But make it short, it’s late.”
Bob made the call, spending nearly an hour on the phone. He would be so tired in the morning. She would set her alarm early to make sure he had enough time to wake up and get rolling. Listening from her bedroom to his pauses and happy laughs, she reminded herself that rates after eleven were the best they would be.
When she heard the thunk of the phone returning to its cradle, she went into Bob’s room to say good night to him and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for letting me call him,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue. “Sometimes I get low.”
The words struck like a whip. She said, “Everyone does, honey. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sometimes I feel alone. You work so hard.”
“Is there anything special you want to talk about?” She thought of Nikki. She hadn’t had time to think about Nikki and Bob. “Is everything all right at school?”
