the last pin and the door dropped to the floor. 'I held you in these hands,' he said, dropping the hammer to show her his hands. 'I walked with you at night when you wouldn't stop crying, I made sure you had your lunch when you went to school, and I loaned you the money to make the down payment on this house.'
'I paid you back every goddamn penny.'
'This here's the interest,' he said, wrapping his hands around the edges of the door. He lifted it with a heavy groan.
Lena watched, incredulous, as he carried the door out into the hallway.
'Why are you doing this?' she whined. 'Hank, stop it.'
'No more secrets in this house,' he mumbled, straining to set the door against the wall. He turned to her, saying, 'I'm laying down the law here, child.'
'I'm not doing any of this,' she said, throwing the list at him.
'The hell you say,' he countered, catching the paper before it hit the floor. 'You're gonna do every goddamn thing on this list every day, or I'll have a talk with your boss. How's that?'
'Don't threaten me,' she said, following him back into the bedroom.
'You take it as a threat if you want,' Hank said, yanking open one of the drawers in her bureau. He rummaged through her underwear, then slammed the drawer closed and opened the next one.
'What are you doing?'
'Here,' he said, pulling out a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. 'Put these on and be downstairs in five minutes.'
Lena looked at him, and she noticed for the first time that Hank was not dressed in his usual jeans and loud Hawaiian shirt. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a beer advertisement on it and a pair of shorts that looked so new they still had the creases in them from being folded in the package. Brand new sneakers were on his feet, white socks pulled up to just under his knees. His legs were so white that she had to blink several times to see where his legs stopped and the socks began.
'Downstairs for what?' she asked, crossing her arms.
'We're going running.'
'You're going to go running with me?' she asked, not believing this. Hank was about as out of shape as a geriatric in a wheelchair. He did not even like walking to the mailbox.
'Five minutes,' he said, leaving the room.
'Bastard,' Lena fumed, contemplating whether or not to go after him. She was so mad she couldn't see straight, but still, she took off her pants and slid on the shorts.
'Fucking prick,' she mumbled, slipping on the shirt. She had no choice, and that was what was pissing her off. If Hank told Jeffrey half of the stuff he knew about Lena's behavior, Lena would be out on her ass so fast her head would spin.
Lena allowed herself a glance at the list. It started off with 'exercise every day,' and ended with 'eat normal meals for breakfast, lunch, and supper.'
From deep inside somewhere, she pulled up every curse word, every expletive, she had ever heard in her ten years as a cop and directed them all toward Hank. She finished with '… fucking motherfucker,' then grabbed her sneakers and went downstairs.
Lena sat in Jeffrey's office, staring at the clock on his wall. He was ten minutes late, which had never happened as long as Lena could remember. She should probably be glad he wasn't here yet, because Lena needed to sit in order to recover from her morning run with Hank. He was a tough old man, and she had found herself being outpaced by him from their first step outside. Lena had to admit that some of her dogged determination must have come from her uncle, because he seemed to be like Lena: Once he got something in his head that he was going to do, nothing would stop him. Even when Lena had lagged behind, her lungs about to explode, her stomach churning from all the amino acids her muscles were giving up, he had simply jogged in place, his jaw set in an angry line, waiting for her to get over it and get moving.
'Hey,' Jeffrey said, rushing into the office. His tie was loose around his neck and he carried his jacket over his arm.
'Hey,' Lena said, standing.
He motioned for her to sit down. 'Sorry I'm late,' he said. 'Traffic.'
'Where?' Lena asked, because the only traffic in town was around the school, and then only at certain times.
Jeffrey did not answer her. He sat at his desk, buttoning his collar with one hand. Lena was not certain, but she could have sworn she saw a red mark on his neck.
She asked, 'No word on Lacey yet?'
'No,' he told her, tying his tie. 'I talked to Dave Fine on my way in. He's got the notes from his sessions with Mark.'
'He's just going to hand them over?' Lena asked, and not for the first time she was glad she had not talked to the pastor about her problems.
'Yeah,' Jeffrey said, smoothing down his tie. 'I was surprised, too.'
Lena crossed her arms, staring at her boss. There was something different about him. She just couldn't place it.
'He's going to meet me at the hospital at ten,' Jeffrey said, then looked at his watch. 'I'm already late.'
'I thought you wanted me to go with you?' Lena asked.
'I want you to get Brad and take Mark to his house,' Jeffrey told her. 'Get him some clean clothes, let him take a shower, whatever he needs to do, then take him to the hospital.'
'Why?'
'His mother took a bad turn last night,' Jeffrey said. 'Fine thinks she'll probably be gone this morning.' He tapped his fingers on his desk. 'No matter what he did, I'm not going to keep that boy from seeing his mama one last time before she dies.'
Lena was touched by this, but she tried not to let on.
Jeffrey jabbed a finger at her, as if in warning. 'I mean it about Brad, Lena. You're not to be with Mark alone. Do you understand me?'
She thought to protest, but he was right. She did not want to be alone with Mark Patterson. There was something about him that was too raw. Perhaps she identified with him too much.
' Lena?' Jeffrey prompted.
She cleared her throat, then answered, 'Yes, sir.'
As usual, Brad drove through town at exactly the speed limit. Lena tried to quell her impatience at the same time she tried to ignore Mark sitting in the back seat. Without looking, she knew that Mark was staring at her. Both she and Jeffrey had agreed that it would be best to let his father deal with telling the boy his mother would probably be dead before the end of the day, but sitting there in the car with Mark less than two feet behind her, Lena felt like she was doing something wrong. Even with the safety guard between the front and back seats, she felt like Mark might come through the fence and grab her, demanding to know what was going on.
For Mark's part, whatever medication the doctor had given him last night seemed to work. He was back to his usual surly self, standing too close to Lena when she cuffed him, making a suggestive noise as she led him to the car. Lena wondered what had brought the change. Mark had seemed nearly catatonic the day before.
'It sure is hot out,' Brad said, taking a left off of Main Street.
'I know,' Lena agreed, wanting to keep up the small talk. 'It's hotter now than it was last year.'
'That's the truth,' Brad answered. 'I remember when I was little, it
