field trip to Saratoga Performing Arts Center. Cost, ten bucks. Permission slip for a field trip to the Mohawk Canal museum. Cost, five bucks. So much for getting her hair cut this week. A notice of upcoming field days-please make sure your child is adequately sun-screened. She dropped the forms on the table and poured milk into Genny's bowl, holding it away from herself to avoid splashing her uniform. 'I don't know why they bother to have school into June,' she said to Hudson. 'You're not spending any time there.'
She grabbed her checkbook from the tote and started filling out the forms. 'You should have given these to me last night,' she told her son, who was steam-shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. He nodded.
'Hey, Honey,' Granddad called from the family room. 'Come on in here and check this out.'
'I can't,' she said.
'Your police department's on the channel six news.'
Hudson and Genny both looked up, eyes wide. 'Finish your breakfast,' Hadley ordered, even as they slipped from their chairs and ran into the next room. 'I am not driving you to school,' Hadley warned, following them. 'You're out the door at five to eight whether you've finished breakfast or-'
She broke off. A streaked blonde in a pink jacket was breathlessly talking into a microphone in front of the MKPD. Before Hadley had a chance to hear what she said, the picture changed to dawn breaking over the Muster Field. 'This was the site where the second and third bodies were found.' The blonde, wearing a trench coat in this shot, turned to an 'area resident who witnessed the recovery of the victims.' She thrust the mic toward a heavyset man who seemed excited about his moment of fame, despite the early hour. He launched into a description of the events of Sunday afternoon.
'Mom, we didn't see any bodies,' Hudson complained.
'That's 'cause we went home like sensible people once they found the Burns boy,' Granddad said.
The screen switched back to the MKPD. 'Mom, look!' Hudson said. 'Maybe you'll be on TV, too!'
God forbid.
'Could this be the work of a serial killer?' the reporter asked the camera. 'So far, the Millers Kill police refuse to confirm or deny the possibility. But meanwhile, the residents of this far-flung rural township watch. And wait. And wonder. This is Sheena Bevins, WREB News.' The screen switched to the anchor.
'Mom, what's a serial killer?' Genny asked.
'Someone who puts poison in cereal.' Hudson leered menacingly. 'You may have already eaten it. Do you feel sick?'
Genny shrieked.
'Stop it,' Hadley said. 'Both of you, into the kitchen and finish your breakfast.'
Granddad shook his head. 'What's this world comin' to?' He heaved himself up out of his recliner. 'You any closer to solving this?'
'We've got nothing.' Hadley flopped her checkbook open against the top of the television and began to write out the field trip payments. 'We don't even have an identity for the first guy.' She ripped the checks out and folded them in the permission slips as she crossed the kitchen. 'Upstairs and brush your teeth, you two,' she said, zipping the papers into Hudson's backpack. She scooped up the bowls-still half full of milk and cereal, in Genny's case-and dumped them in the sink.
'I'll take care of those,' Granddad said. 'You better get going. They're going to need you at the station.'
Granddad was convinced she was one rung below the deputy chief at the department. He seemed to think her twice-weekly trips to Albany were some sort of high-level investigator's training, instead of Police Basic. Albany. Tonight. Shit. That meant she had to fill up her gas tank.
She ran up the stairs to her room, pausing just long enough to stick her head into the bathroom and say, 'Brush!' without checking to see what the kids were actually doing. She had five bucks and change in a mug on her dresser. She emptied it into her pocket and then took her gun safe down from the closet shelf. She didn't like to put on her belt before the kids left for school, but it couldn't be helped when they were running late. She unlocked the safe box, checked the gun just like her instructor had told her, and snapped it into its holster. She wondered if she would ever feel at ease with the thing. She made sure everything else was secure- baton, cuffs, radio mount, ammo pouch-then buckled it on. She twitched the rig around a few times to try to get more comfortable, then banged on the wall adjoining the bathroom. 'Finish up!' she yelled. 'It's bus time!'
Geneva bolted past her as she left the bedroom, with Hudson following. He eyed her rig. 'Ooh, Mom,' he said. 'Could I-'
She held up one finger. 'No. I don't even want you to ask. If you ask again, you're getting a consequence.'
He gave her a Look and slumped downstairs, muttering just quietly enough for her to ignore it. In the kitchen, the kids shouldered their backpacks and kissed their grampy, who had abandoned the morning news long enough to make coffee. The pills lay untouched in the cup. 'Take your medicine,' Hadley said. 'And no smoking!'
'I'm not smokin' no more,' he said, with the same expression Hudson got when he was lying.
'I'll try to get home at lunchtime and return the cans and bottles.' She kissed Granddad. The deposit money and what she had in her pocket should get her to Albany and back. She hoped. She shooed the kids out the door before her and tossed her tote into the back of the car. The bus rumbled to a stop and Hudson and Genny climbed aboard without a backward glance-which, she supposed, was a good thing.
She spent the five-minute drive to the station worrying about what she was going to do for child care over the summer. Granddad was going back to work sooner rather than later, and even in a small town she didn't want to leave Genny and Hudson home several hours a day. The Millers Kill recreation department had a seven-week day camp that sounded perfect, except that it was four hundred per kid. The sight of the TV vans parked in front of the station put an end to her pity party. There were three reporter/cameraman pairs on the front steps that she could see, bringing traffic to a near standstill as drivers on their way to work slowed down to rubberneck.
She pulled into the lot that ran beside and behind the station and killed her engine. She sat, hands still wrapped around the steering wheel, wondering how in hell she was going to get by those people without getting caught on camera.
VIII
A flash of copper near the asphalt caught Hadley's eye. Kevin Flynn's disembodied head rose from the edge of the parking lot.
'In here,' he said.
She didn't need to be told twice. She descended carefully so as not to slip on the leaves and ducked inside, Kevin treading on her heels. She was, she found, next to the evidence locker.
'They used to have cells on this floor in the olden days,' Flynn explained, tugging the heavy door back into place. 'This was the way they took prisoners out.'
In the enclosed area, Flynn towered over her. She moved forward, well away from his body space, out of reach. She had decided she was going to approach him with a kind of big-sister courtesy unless and until he hit on her again. Cold and standoffish was a turn-on for some guys, and while she didn't think Flynn was like that, she wasn't taking any chances. She figured if she treated him like everyone else on the force did-as if he were sixteen years old-he'd get over his crush fast.
