Chapter Twenty-one

Sam hadn’t heard a word on the case all morning. She’d talked to Aaron twice and learned that nothing was going on at work. With the exception of the fact that Williams had told everyone about how she’d drawn a gun on him.

“You want to talk about it?” Aaron had asked.

“No,” she’d snapped before adding, “It’s a load of crap.”

“I figured,” he told her, but she knew there were plenty of people in the office who were eating the rumors up and loving it.

And to make matters more frustrating, the space heater that had exploded on her had also disappeared from the closet in her office where she’d put it. So now there was no way to find out if someone had tampered with it. She’d had Aaron call facilities to check and see if anyone knew where it was, but they’d never seen it. Sam again wondered if Williams wasn’t the obvious suspect.

She was supposed to be on the case full-time, but she wished now that she’d gone to the office even if just to pass the time. At least she could have told Williams what a shit he was. Instead, she was stuck staring at the walls, going crazy.

She’d paged Nick twice and called his house three times, only to hear the familiar sound of his answering machine. She hadn’t left a message. He knew she was trying to reach him. She’d tried to sleep, but her nightmare had left her with a twisted gut and an inability to rest at all. Instead, she’d done something she had been intending to do for years. She had pulled out the small cardboard box and was sorting through the stack of Polly’s letters. She dreaded the thought of coming back to these after so much time, wishing she had read them all those years ago.

But when Sam had gotten the first one, Polly was so happy at a time when Sam had felt so destitute, she’d been unable to handle her own loneliness. And now Polly was dead. She should’ve reached out to her sister, tried to save her. But the letter had not asked for help. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Sam untied the stack and removed the only opened letter from its envelope. With dread clawing at her, Sam read it again:

 

Sammy Jean,

Who knows if you’ll even get this letter, but Daddy asked me to write you to see if you’d come home. He’s really sick, you know. Doc Brewster says it’s his heart, but I don’t understand much more about it. He’s supposed to stop drinking, but he doesn’t. Mostly, he doesn’t want to tell us. He thinks we’re still kids. We’re not. I’m almost twenty. My birthday’s in three months, if you forgot. I finished up at NW Miss. Community College in Senatobia. I’ve thought about a four-year college, but I got offered a full-time job at the Wal-Mart. I’ve been there for about three years, so they’re offering me a job as an assistant manager. Pay’s real good, so I can’t see turning it down for college.

Dad asks about you sometimes, when Mom’s not around. Mom doesn’t want anyone to mention your name since you left, but Dad does. She’s real mad at you, saying you made up all that stuff about Daddy. I’m sure you had your reasons. Idon’t think he’s mad or anything. I’m sure Mom would forgive you, too, if you just come back and tell her you’re sorry.

When he asks, I tell him you’re a big shot out in California and that you’re real busy. He smiles. You know, I moved to the basement after you left. Funny being in your old room.

Jimmy’s moved to Atlanta, chasing Tammy Smith. Mom needs me now, especially since Dad is sick. And Wayne is here. Do you remember Wayne Austin? He lived over on Church, just a couple blocks down. We’ve been going out for nearly a year. He’s a little like Dad. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But he loves me. And I love him. I just found out I’m pregnant, so I think he’s going to ask me to marry him. I haven’t told Dad yet. Mom says not to tell him. She says it would be bad on his heart. I hope you have some kids by now.

I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than being a mom. Take care. Maybe you can bring your family back here. I know Dad would like to see you. And Mom too, even though she wouldn’t say so. Call us. Do you still have the number?

 

Sam read the familiar phone number and felt the tears drift down her face as she pictured their father drunk, chasing Polly down the stairs. Jimmy had left, Sam had left, but Polly had stayed. She even took care of their father. Polly put up with all of it, bought the line of bullshit her mother fed her. Her mother had never forgiven Sam for refusing to live her mother’s lies.

Sam had left them and when she’d gone, she’d told her mother why. She’d told her with Polly and Jimmy in the room how screwed up she was. Sam had convinced herself she’d risen above it, and taking the moral high ground, she called her father sick and dysfunctional, called her mother weak for putting up with it. It was something only an eighteen-year-old could do. And her mother had never forgiven her, had erased Sam’s existence from the family tree. Sam wondered where her mother was now. Was she dead?

She remembered the day Polly’s letter had come. Sam had been through a battery of tests, and failed each one. The doctors had explained the results with grim faces. They had used words she didn’t understand, identified organs she didn’t know existed. “Due to previous trauma,” she remembered one of them saying. It was the only time Brent had even looked at her. Through the rest of it, he had nodded without a word.

On the drive home, he was silent. He dropped her off at their house, changed his clothes, and disappeared. Polly’s letter arrived in the mail that day. Divorce papers and a letter from Brent’s attorney the next. It was over like that. Alone again.

She looked down at Polly’s letter.I tell him you’re a big shot out in California and he smiles. She shook her head. She was no big shot. She wasn’t even sure she would have a job next week.I hope you have some kids by now. I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than being a mom. Oh, Polly. Sam shook her head. It should’ve been me instead of you. You should be raising your boys.

Gripping the letter, she wished she could cry. The guilt, the anger, the physical pain, none of it would come loose. Instead, it had seeded deeper into her belly, sinking roots there. She stared at the other letters, the unopened ones. She should have been stronger. She should have been able to handle what was in them, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

 

Sam sat in her car and watched Rob’s team practice through the fence. She was parked opposite the outfield, and she could just barely make out Rob in the lineup. All the kids wore baseball pants that had long since stopped being white, despite the bleach and hot water that went into cleaning them.

The team was supposed to have finished up ten minutes ago, but they had a tendency to run over. A line of cars waited, mothers mostly in SUVs, talking on cell phones. Sam wondered who they were talking to—stockbrokers, friends, husbands, therapists? Sam had no one to call. She tried not to think about Polly or her family.

Nick wasn’t on the field today, and she knew he was tied up with the case. She knew it was keeping him busy, but she hoped he would call her soon to give her an update. She felt certain he knew more about the accusations that were circulating around the station. She wished he hadn’t told her. Not knowing what the evidence was made her feel like her job and her reputation were flying in the wind.

Seeing him last night at the crime scene, she had yearned for a chance to speak privately. It was the wrong time, but she would have been comforted by just a moment alone with him. Ridiculous, but it was how she felt. How long had it been since she’d been close to a man? Or to anyone, for that matter?

Brent had been too distant to get close to. When they were married, she didn’t think she needed to share herself completely with another person. She was private. Privacy was one thing, but the complete lack of intimacy she’d had with Brent was another. Only she hadn’t realized it at the time.

Even as a child, she’d blocked herself off from other children because she didn’t want them to know what happened at her house. She’d never confided in them, couldn’t share the little secrets that created friendships between young girls.

Sam’s own secrets hadn’t been so little. She had fought to protect Polly, to shelter her. She remembered the small silver ring Polly had given her before she left Mississippi. Seeing it in the box of letters from Polly had brought back a barrage of memories that Sam had kept carefully tucked away—things she still didn’t feel prepared to deal with. She would probably never feel prepared to deal with them. Today, she had started to deal with what was there. She’d let it go too long.

Distracting herself from thoughts of Polly, Sam pulled out the list of the names of people who had worked the two homicide cases and went over it again. She’d put check marks next to Corona and Williams.

She knew her sense of desperation was a result of the situation at work. She needed to get answers. She would have to face Corona on Monday. He was commuting to the Sacramento office for the remainder of the week. The blackout would surely come up then. Corona would’ve heard Williams’ version of the story at least.

She stared at Williams’ name again, wondering what would have happened if the security guard hadn’t shown up.

A litany of questions followed that one. Was Williams the one who had shut the electricity off? Was he responsible for the threats? Had she really made such an enemy of him? Did he really blame her for his mistakes? Had the latest fiasco with the D.A. been too much for him? Aaron had told her that people thought she was difficult. That was fine by her. But was she difficult enough for someone to want to hurt her? That subject was another one that she wanted to discuss with Corona, but it wasn’t something she was willing to discuss over the phone. Since she hadn’t really needed to be in the office for the past two days, she’d been doing most of her work from home. It was pretty clear that Corona supported the idea of her lying low for a while. As much as she hated it, she couldn’t blame him. There was no other link between the cases but her. As hard as she searched, she couldn’t find anything else to tie them together.

She glanced at the field, where Rob’s team was still in full practice, and then at the clock. They were twenty minutes late. The line of cars waiting had grown, and it wouldn’t be long before someone’s parent got out of a car and told them it was time to quit. Sam could wait. She liked to watch the kids’ enthusiasm, and the quiet gave her time to think.

Within a few minutes Rob opened the car door and got inside.

“How was practice?” Sam asked, revving the engine and starting down the street.

“Fine,” Rob muttered.

Sam turned the car toward home. Something was tickling the back of her mind, but she couldn’t drag it to the surface.

“I thought I was getting a ride home with Jason’s mom,” Rob said, breaking into her thoughts.

“I’m working from home for a few days, so I thought I’d pick you up. I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

“Nah. Jason’s mom is a bitch anyway. Are you staying home because Der’s sick?”

“No,” she said. “And please don’t use that word. I’m working from home because of the case I’m on with Nick out here. It doesn’t make sense to go to work in the city.”

Rob nodded slowly and then turned to look out the window. “Are you and Nick dating?” he asked, his gaze locked on the passing streets.

Sam watched him for a minute before responding. He didn’t turn to her. “Would that bother you?”

Rob glanced over and shrugged. “I don’t know. I really like him, but I don’t want to date him.”

Sam smiled.

“I thought maybe you were gay,” he added in a low voice.

Sam’s mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his boldness. “You thought I was a lesbian?”

Rob shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I agree, but no, I’m not—a lesbian, that is. How come you never asked?”

He shrugged again. Sam wondered if they had a class on shrugging at school. Her nephews shrugged better than anyone she’d ever seen.

“If you have questions, you should just ask,” she said.

“You do a lot of strange stuff.” Rob shrugged again. “Maybe all adults do things.”

“Like what?”

“Like that folder of coupons you keep.”

“A lot of people clip coupons.”

“But you don’t ever use them.”

She didn’t have a good answer to that one. It was true. She’d never brought the huge folder of coupons to the store with her, never used a single one. Instead, she clipped them, filed them, and kept them stored the way some people probably kept emergency cash on hand. Once a year or so, she’d clean out the file, throw away the expired coupons, and keep going. “True,” she finally said. “Is there anything else?”

Rob shrugged, and Sam wondered if she couldn’t have a harness fitted for him that would keep his shoulders from doing that. “You sleep in flannel sheets all year,” he said. It was more a statement than a question.

“I guess I get cold easily.”

He nodded. “It’s still weird.”

“As for dating,” she continued, returning to the original subject, “I haven’t found anyone I really like.”

“But you like Nick?”

It felt like such a loaded question, but she found herself nodding. “I think so. I’m not sure. I’m not sure I’m very good at relationships.”

He stared at her and nodded. “Me neither. I liked this girl Penny at school, but she didn’t give me the time of day. Then, when I stopped liking her, she was all over me. Girls are weird.”

Sam laughed. “That’s for sure.”

“What about that Brent guy?”

Sam had never discussed Brent with the boys—she had answered their rare questions, but they’d never met him, never seen pictures of him. Sam didn’t even think she had any left. “Brent wasn’t a very nice person,” she said out loud, thinking he was actually a cold, heartless prick. She was thankful to be able to admit that the destruction of their marriage wasn’t solely her fault. “Nick’s a much better person. Does it make you uncomfortable since he’s your coach?”

“No. But don’t jerk him around.”

Sam didn’t mind that Rob protected Nick. Maybe he would give Nick the same lecture about not hurting her, but she doubted it. Rob was right. She didn’t want to hurt Nick. She cared about him. She wanted to get to know him, to let him know her. It was the first time she’d ever wanted someone toknow her.

Polly’s face flashed through her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut for an instant to push it away. Even Polly hadn’t known her. As she opened her eyes, she saw a flash of reddish-orange pass in front of the car—a jacket. She hit the brakes, but nothing happened.

“Shit!” She pumped harder, frantically slamming her foot to the floor. The car didn’t even slow. “The brakes don’t work!”

“Watch out!” Rob screamed.

Sam looked up and caught the face of a child through her windshield, his body only twenty feet from her bumper. “Oh, my God!”

Slamming her foot onto the emergency brake, she swerved the car to the right. The face got closer.

“You’re going to hit him!” Rob yelled.

Jerking the steering wheel to the left, Sam swerved across the other lane and jumped the curb. She could smell burning rubber as the tires screeched on the pavement. She hit a tree and lurched forward. The airbags popped open and she felt the nylon burn against her arms.

Shaking herself, she grabbed Rob. “Are you okay?”

He moaned. “Yeah. What happened?”

Her heart racing, she shook her head. “I don’t know. The brakes didn’t work.” She ran her hands across his face and head, looking for blood. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“My shoulder’s stiff, but I’m okay.”

“Don’t move, Rob. I’m going to call an ambulance.” Sam unfastened her seatbelt and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed 911 with shaky fingers and waited until she heard an operator. “This is Sam Chase from the Department of Justice. I’ve had a car accident. I’m at Walker Avenue and Oak Knoll Loop in Walnut Creek. Send an ambulance.”

Just then, she remembered the flash of color in front of the car. The child. She dropped the phone and pushed herself out of the car. As she ran across the street, a horn blared and she jumped back, barely missing being run down.

She found a small boy hovering beside a tree, his head down. She knelt beside him. “Are you okay?” Oh, please God, let him be okay.

The boy was shaking and didn’t answer.

She pulled him back from the tree and held him in her arms so she could see his face.

Wide brown eyes stared at her, and he flinched at her touch.

“Where does it hurt, sweetie? Talk to me.”

He trembled at the sound of her voice, and she scanned him for injuries. He couldn’t have been older than six or seven. She thought of little Derek when he had come to live with her. So small, so fragile, he had seemed so afraid of everything. “Please talk to me.”

He blinked hard and nodded.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded again.

“Did I hit you?”

He pointed to his stomach. She lifted his shirt, but she didn’t see any marks on his white skin. Still, she couldn’t be sure.

“Your stomach hurts?”

He nodded again, a single tear running down his cheek.

She began to rock him. “Okay, it’s going to be okay.” She looked down the street for the ambulance, wondering how Rob was, praying this boy wasn’t hurt, cursing the ambulance for taking so long.

In the distance, she heard sirens. People had started to gather on the sidewalk, but she ignored them, waiting for the police to arrive.

“Are you all right?” one man asked.

Sam exhaled, pointing to her car. “Can you check on the boy in that car?”

The man ran across the street. When he returned, he told her, “He’s got a sore shoulder is all. You call the police?”

She nodded.

“I can see the ambulance now.”

“Thank God,” she whispered. She ran her hand over the boy’s forehead, pushing his sandy brown hair off the soft skin. He had closed his eyes, and the sight of his face made her panic. “Look at me, buddy. Hang in there.”

His eyes fluttered open and he gave her a weak smile.

She smiled back, relief like a giant breath of clean air. “You feeling a little better?”

He nodded.

“I want to have a doctor look at you—just to be sure.”

“I’m okay,” he said in a tiny voice. “You just scared me ’cause I thought you were going to hit me.”

Sam rubbed his head and nodded. “I thought maybe I was too.”

The ambulance pulled up to her, and the two techs came running.

Sam motioned to the boy first. “Something happened with my brakes and I swerved to miss him. I wasn’t sure if I hit him. He seems startled but not hurt. Still, I want someone to take a look.”

One of the techs knelt beside her with a medical kit. “Your head okay?”

Sam frowned and touched her forehead. She felt warm, thick blood. “It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt.”

The tech returned his attention to the boy. “What’s your name, buddy?”

The little boy looked at her, and she nodded.

“Mason.”

“Okay, Mason, does anything hurt?”

He pointed at his tummy again.

The second tech brought a wooden board, and the two of them lifted Mason onto it.

“I’m okay here,” the first tech said. “What’ve you got in the car?”

“I think it’s a shoulder injury from the impact,” Sam explained. “It’s my nephew. He was wearing his seatbelt.” She crossed the street more carefully than the first time and pulled open the passenger door.

Rob opened one eye and smiled. “I always knew men were better drivers.”

The tech laughed and Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Chad,” he said.

“Rob,” her nephew answered.

“I hear you’ve got a sore shoulder.”

Sam stepped back as the tech went to work on Rob. Her pulse no longer racing, she found her cell phone and started to page Nick. She added the numbers 911 to the end of her page and her cell phone rang less than a minute later.

“What’s going on?” he said when she answered.

“I’ve had a car accident. The front of the Caprice is pretty well smashed. I need someone to tow it to the station, and I want a mechanic to look at the brakes.”

“What the hell happened?”

She felt herself start to shake and fought it off. “I don’t know. One minute I had brakes and the next minute I didn’t.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No. I almost hit a kid, but I think he’s fine. I think we’re all okay.” But we could’ve died, she thought. She couldn’t get herself to say it out loud.

“I’ll get someone to come get it. Where are you again?”

She repeated her location. “I’m going with Rob to the hospital. He’s hurt his shoulder, so they’re going to need to do some X-rays. Call me when someone’s seen the car.”

“I will. Keep me posted on the shoulder, too. That’s one of my star players.”

She smiled. “Right. I almost forgot.” She started to hang up when she heard his voice again. “What?”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, letting her breath out. “I think we’re fine. But something’s wrong with the car.”

“I don’t care about the car.”

“Thanks, Nick. We’re okay.”

“You be careful.”

Sam rode in the back of the ambulance with Rob on one side and little Mason on the other. She’d spoken to Mason’s mother and assured her that Mason seemed fine, if in shock. The tech hadn’t found any signs that he had been hit, but they were taking him in for routine X-rays anyway. His mother would meet them all at the hospital.

They pulled in at the emergency entrance and Sam could see Mason’s mother, pacing frantically. When the ambulance doors opened, Sam called the woman over, confirmed again that everything was fine and watched as they wheeled Mason inside, his mother with him. Sam followed Rob into X-ray and tried to wait patiently while the nurses paged a doctor to assist them.

 

Two hours later, she’d given her statement to a police officer who looked vaguely familiar, and the doctors had confirmed that Rob didn’t have any broken bones. Little Mason was fine, too. The doctor had put a suture on her forehead where she’d apparently hit something in the accident, although she swore it didn’t hurt. They put Rob’s arm in a sling.

Exhausted, Sam took Rob’s good arm and the two of them walked out of the hospital.

“What happened to the brakes?” he asked when they were outside.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You think someone did that?”

She met his gaze. His eyes were cool and serious, and he looked older than he was. “I’m not sure, Rob.”

“Mrs. Austin, you look like you’ve had an accident.”

Sam looked up to see Derek’s physical therapist coming through the hospital parking lot. She ignored the use of the boys’ last name. “Hi, Patricia. Just a little fender bender,” she explained awkwardly.

“Everyone’s all right?”

“Fine, thanks.” Sam forced a smile and looked toward the cab waiting at the curb. She just wanted to go home. “Good to see you.”

“Derek’s doing great, by the way.”

Sam turned back. “I’m glad. Thanks.”

The physical therapist said something Sam didn’t catch.

Sam turned back. “I’m sorry?”

“He’s doing really well,” the PT said again, waving as she ran off.

Sam opened the door of the cab and let Rob climb in first. “Two thirteen Oak Tree Road,” she said, leaning back in the seat, exhausted.