Flight

He looked away and shrugged, then said, “You want to see my hockey cards?” Without waiting for an answer, he got down on all fours and pulled a shoebox from beneath the bed. He pulled the sheet from the clothesline, then invited Frank to sit next to him on the bed, where he had already displayed several of his favorite cards. He began an impressive recital of not only player stats but observations on the players’ performances in recent games.

“Do you play hockey?” Frank asked.

“No,” he said sadly, then added on a more hopeful note, “I might get to play next year.” His face fell again. “But I don’t know. That might be too late. All the other kids will have a head start on me.”

“No, you can always learn to play. I just started playing last year.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I’m not a great hockey player, but I have a lot of fun. Do you ice-skate?”

“Yes. I’m a good skater.”

“And you watch the game. I think you’ll do fine.”

“Can I watch you play?”

“We’ll ask your mom. The games are pretty late at night.”

Seth smiled. “That’s one good thing about home schooling. I can sleep in!” He fell back onto his pillow, eyes shut, making snoring noises.

There was a knock at the bedroom door. “Seth!” Elena called through it.

He sat upright and called back, “Yes?”

She opened the door. “Are you hungry? Lunch is ready.”

Frank saw a slightly mischievous look come into Seth’s eyes. “It can’t be!” the boy said. “I didn’t hear the smoke alarm!”

“Come on, Mr. Smartmouth.” She saw the hockey cards and said, “You must really rate, Detective Harriman.” She didn’t seem especially happy about it.

Mistaking the cause of her displeasure, Seth hurried over to her and said, “I was just teasing, Mom. You’re a great cook.”

Her face softened and she ruffled his hair. “Oh, yeah? I did burn dinner the other night, so I guess I deserve a little teasing.”

“You were upset—”

She glanced nervously at Frank, then quickly said to Seth, “Matt’s back, and you know he has to take Aunt Yvette to the airport right after lunch. So hurry and wash up, okay?”

Seth started to sit next to Frank, then moved to take a seat by his mother. Elena managed a smile and said, “Go on, sit next to your guest.”

Seth patted her shoulder and stayed where he was, which made Yvette smile and say something to him in French, which seemed to please him.

“Merci,” he said quietly.

As they ate ham sandwiches made on thick slices of bread, Matt, Seth, and Yvette kept the conversation rolling. Arden talked about his visit to Bredloe, which had shaken him. He began to reminisce about the captain and their days together on the force. Frank noticed that these war stories were strictly G-rated, with a careful concern for Seth, who was clearly drinking in every word.

“I knew him when he was just a rookie,” Arden said. “He went up the ranks quickly — like you must have done, Frank.”

“I’ve only known him as a captain,” Frank said, skirting the issue of his own advancement. “I hope he’ll be able to come back.”

“They tell me he’s making progress,” Matt said. “If that’s progress…” He shuddered.

“Frank said the captain knew my father,” Seth said.

Elena shot Frank a look of displeasure, but Matt answered, “Yes, he did. Maybe if he gets better you can talk to him about your dad.”

Yvette looked at her watch. “We need to get going soon, I think, Matt.”

Matt asked if Frank could help him load Yvette’s bags into his car. “I’d do it myself, but my damn — er, I’m not supposed to lift anything heavy.”

“I’ll help you, Matt,” Elena said.

“Oh, hell no, Elena. You and Seth should spend time saying good-bye to Yvette — in fact, I’d enjoy spending a few minutes shooting the bull with Harriman about my old friends in the department.”

She eyed Arden skeptically, but allowed Frank to carry the suitcases.

“Yvette tells me you’re open-minded about Phil,” Arden said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I can’t imagine you’ll stay at your present rank if that’s the case.”

“You want to say something, or am I just going to get the B side of the record Elena keeps playing?”

Arden smiled. “No, I’m not as cynical as she is — and I’m damned cynical. I’m just afraid that you may not realize what you’re getting yourself into.”

“So I should follow your example and keep my mouth shut for a decade or so?”

Arden’s mouth flattened and his face turned red. But after a moment he said, “I suppose I deserve that — at least it must look that way from where you’re standing.”