Keeper of the Bride

He, too, rose to his feet. “Why, you bitch…”

“Go ahead. Call me names. I can think of just as many to call you back.” With a whisk of her blond hair, she turned and walked out of the dining room.

George stared after her for a moment. Slowly, he sank back in his chair. “God,” he whispered. “What was I thinking when I married her?”

You weren’t thinking at all, Nina felt like saying. She touched her father’s arm. “Seems like neither one of us is any good at picking spouses. Are we, Dad?”

He regarded his daughter with a look of shared misery. “I sincerely hope you haven’t inherited my bad luck with love, sweetheart.”

They sat for a moment without speaking. Their supper lay, almost untouched, on the table. In another room, music had started up, the fast and thumping rhythm of an aerobics tape. Daniella was at it again, working off her anger by sculpting a new and better body. Smart girl; she was going to come out of a divorce looking like a million bucks.

Nina sighed and leaned back. “Whether it’s bad luck or character flaws, Dad, maybe some people are just meant to be single.”

“Not you, Nina. You need to love someone. You always have. And that’s what makes you so easy to love.”

She gave a sad laugh but said nothing. Easy to love, easy to leave, she thought.

Once again, she found herself wondering what Sam was doing. What he was thinking. Not about her, surely; he was too much the cop to be bothered by minor distractions.

Yet when the phone rang, she couldn’t suppress the sudden hope that he was calling. She sat at the table, heart thumping hard as she listened to Daniella’s voice in the next room talking on the phone.

A moment later, Daniella appeared in the doorway and said, “It’s for you, Nina. The hospital. They said they’ve been trying to reach you.”

Disappointed, Nina rose to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Gladys Power, the night nursing supervisor. Sorry to bother you — we got your phone number from your mother. We have a number of staff out sick tonight, and we were wondering if you could come in to cover for the ER.”

“Night shift?”

“Yes. We could really use you.”

Nina glanced toward Daniella’s exercise room, where the music was playing louder than ever. She had to get out of this house. Away from this emotional battleground.

She said, “Okay, I’ll take the shift.”

“See you at eleven o’clock.”

“Eleven?” Nina frowned. The night shift usually started at midnight. “You want me there an hour early?”

“If you could manage it. We’re shorthanded on the evening shift as well.”

“Right. I’ll be there, eleven o’clock.” She hung up and breathed a soft sigh of relief. Work was exactly what she needed. Maybe eight hours of crises, major and minor, would get her mind back on track.

And off the subject of Sam Navarro.

MARILYN HUNG UP THE PHONE. “She said she’d be there.”

Spectre gave a nod of approval. “You handled it well.”

“Of course.” Marilyn favored him with that satisfied smile of hers. A smile that said, I’m worth every penny you pay me.

“Did she seem at all suspicious?” he asked.

“Not a bit. I’m telling you, she’ll be there. Eleven o’clock, just like you wanted.” Marilyn tilted back her head and gave her lips a predatory lick. “Now, do I get what I want?”

He smiled. “What do you want?”

“You know.” She sidled toward him and unbuckled his belt. His breath caught in an involuntary gasp as that hot little hand slid inside his trousers. Her touch was delicious, expert, her technique designed to reduce a man to begging. Oh yes, he knew exactly what she was asking for.

And it wasn’t sex.

Why not enjoy the moment? he thought. She was willing, and he still had the time to spare. Three hours until Nina Cormier showed up for her shift at the hospital. Some quick amusement with Marilyn, and then on to more serious business.

She dropped to her knees before him. “You said you’d pay me what I was worth,” she whispered.

He groaned. “I promised…”

“I’m worth a lot. Don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“I can be worth even more to you.”

He gave a jerk of pleasure and grasped her face. Breathing heavily, he stroked down her cheek, her jaw, to her neck. Such a long, slender neck. How easy it should be to finish it. First, though, he’d let her finish…

“Oh, yes,” she murmured. “You’re ready for me.”

He pulled her, hard, against him. And he thought, A pity you won’t be ready for me.

IT WAS TEN-THIRTY by the time a weary Sam stepped through his front door. The first thing he noticed was the silence. The emptiness. It was a house that had somehow lost its soul.

He turned on the lights, but even the glow of all those lamps couldn’t seem to dispel the shadows. For the past three years, this was the house he’d called home, the house he’d returned to every evening after work. Now the place felt cold to him, like the house of a stranger. Not a home at all.

He poured himself a glass of milk and drank it in a few thirsty gulps. So much for supper; he didn’t have the energy to cook. He poured a second glass and carried it over to the telephone. All evening, he’d been itching to make this call, but something had always interrupted him. Now that he had a few blessed moments of peace, he was going to call Nina. He was going to tell her what he’d been afraid to tell her, what he could no longer deny to her, or to himself.

It had come to him this afternoon, a realization that had struck him, oddly enough, in the midst of searching Marilyn Dukoff’s apartment. He’d stood in the woman’s bedroom and gazed at the empty bureau drawers, the stripped mattress. And without warning, he’d been struck by a sense of loneliness so intense it made his chest ache. Because that abandoned room had suddenly come to represent his life. It had a purpose, a function, but it was nevertheless empty.

I’ve been a cop too long, he’d thought. I’ve let it take over my life. Only at that moment, standing in that empty bedroom, did it occur to him how little of his own life he really had. No wife, no kids, no family.

Nina had opened his eyes to the possibilities. Yes, he was scared. Yes, he knew just how much, how deeply, he would be hurt if she ever left him. But the alternative was just as bleak; that he would never even give it a chance.

He’d been a coward. But no longer.

He picked up the phone and dialed Nina’s father’s house.

A few rings later, the call was answered by a bland “Hello?” Not Nina but Daniella, the fitness freak.

“This is Sam Navarro,” he said. “Sorry to call so late. May I speak to Nina?”

“She’s not here.”

His immediate pang of disappointment was quickly followed by a cop’s sense of dismay. How could she not be there? She was supposed to stay in a safe place tonight, not run around unprotected.

“Mind telling me where she went?” he asked.

“The hospital. They called her in to work the night shift.”

“The Emergency Room?”