Don't Go (27 page)

“I don’t need a shrink, thanks.” Mike felt a sharp cramp travel up his missing arm.

“What about at rehab? I saw online, at the VA website, that they have a support group there. You can call and set up the appointments, or see a professional on your own.”

“I know, I will. I just got home.” Mike tried to stay calm. “How’s the baby?”

Bob scowled. “Don’t dismiss my wife. She loves you. She asked you a question.”

“And I asked her one, and I love her, too.” Mike wanted to hear about the one good thing in his life, Emily. “I just want to know how the baby is. Is that a crime?”

Bob threw his topcoat on the chair, piqued. “What the hell, Mike?”

“The baby’s fine,” Danielle answered. Her lower lip trembled, but Mike couldn’t tell if she was hurt or angry, or both.

“Look, I’m sorry, Danielle. I appreciate everything you’re doing. Don’t think I don’t, because I do.”

“I understand, but you need help and you’re not getting it. Don’t you think you should have done that today, instead of going to that boy’s house?”

“That boy is a man.” Mike grimaced at the pain, or maybe at having to account for his time.

“But you’re making matters worse for yourself, don’t you think?”

Bob interjected, “That’s
exactly
what’s happening. I tell him to plead not guilty, he gives me a hard time. I tell him to let me do the talking to the Assistant District Attorney, and he picks a fight with her.” He pointed at Mike. “You’re worried about the enemy, Mike? You’re your own worst enemy.”

Danielle recoiled. “Don’t be that way, honey.”

“What way?” Bob threw up his hands. “We have to get on the right foot here.” He faced Mike again. “It only takes a second to get a criminal record, then what are you gonna do? Who’s gonna hire you then?”

Danielle placed a hand on Bob’s arm. “Honey, don’t pressure him. He’s not himself.” She turned to Mike. “Mike, we have to be honest with each other. Bob is right, we’re getting off on the wrong foot, but I know it’s not you, it’s the painkillers. The Oxycontin. You’re taking ten pills a day, when you’re supposed to be cutting back and taking half that.”

“How do you know how many I’m taking?” Mike recoiled, surprised.

“I saw the discharge instructions.”

“The ones on my dresser?” Mike felt his temper flicker.

“Yes, I had to clean in there, and I saw the papers, so I read them, because I’m worried about you. I’m trying to help you.”

Bob interjected, “We both are, but you’re fighting us.”

Danielle nodded, frowning. “I admit, I counted the pills. I had seen on the bottle that there were thirty when they were prescribed, and if you were taking one every twelve hours, as prescribed, you should have had a lot more left.”

Mike reddened, defensive. “Danielle, it’s one thing to see papers on my dresser and another to go in my medicine chest.”

Bob scoffed. “May I remind you that
your
medicine chest is in
our
house?”

Danielle’s eyes widened, plaintive. “Mike, I didn’t go in your medicine chest. I saw the pill bottle when you dropped the pills this morning. Remember, when we were on the computer? I respected your privacy, I did.”

Bob shook his head. “Neither of you have any business talking about privacy when you were hacking into Chloe’s email. That’s what started this whole thing.”

“We weren’t
hacking
.” Danielle glared at Bob, and he scowled back.

“You were, too. You shouldn’t have. You should have let it lie. You’re only adding fuel to his fire.”

Mike raised his hand. He didn’t want them fighting because of him. “Please, don’t fuss. I’m sorry I started this, and you’re right. Mea culpa.”

Danielle’s eyes shone wetly. “It’s okay.”

Bob faced him, but his forehead remained knit. “Apology accepted.”

“Good, thanks.” Mike wanted to move on. “Now, if somebody tells me where those things are from my old house, I’ll leave you both alone, so you can get to bed.”

“What things?” Danielle asked.

Bob cocked his head. “You mean in the storage unit?”

“No, you said you kept our personal things in the house, didn’t you?” Mike had thought about it on the ride home. “When you told me how Chloe’s laptop got broken.”

“Oh, right, there are a few boxes in the closet of my home office.”

“Can I look through them? Just tell me where. The office is next to my room, isn’t it?”

“Now? It’s so late.” Bob frowned, and so did Danielle, their foreheads like his-and-her masks of malcontent.

“Mike,” Danielle said, her tone gentle. “Don’t you want to get some sleep?”

“No, thanks. I don’t feel tired at all. It’s almost morning in Landstuhl.”

“But you’re home now.”

“I’m aware of that, but I’m still in its time zone.”

“Why do you want to look through the boxes?”

Mike was so tired of explaining himself. “Because Sara was murdered, and I want to know who did it, and I have a theory that Chloe’s lover killed Sara. If that’s true, it’s on me because I sent him an email, threatening him. So I’m going to look in every box upstairs and go through every single picture, credit card receipt, and old telephone bill to see if I can figure out who Mac702 is, because he got my wife pregnant and killed her best friend.”

Danielle shook her head. “Don’t you think the police will do that?”

“I don’t know what they’ll do, and there’s no reason I can’t help out. If I don’t find anything that helps in the boxes from the closet, I’ll drive over to the storage unit and look there. I won’t sleep until I know I’ve done all I can do. It’s all I can think about.”

“Can I just say that I’m worried that you’re, kind of, losing it? Getting obsessed, out of jealousy, with this Mac702?”

“If I am, I don’t care.” Mike flashed on Afghanistan, lying awake in his rack, night after night. “Chloe was all I used to think about and that was taken away when I found out she was pregnant, but this isn’t about me anymore. Now I want to know if Mac702 killed Sara. So I’m obsessed, it’s true, because I loved my wife and I loved her best friend, yes, I’m obsessed, completely.”

Danielle blinked, and Bob had gone quiet.

Mike realized they thought he was crazy, but so be it.

Maybe he was.

Chapter Forty-nine

Mike closed the lid of the third and last box, having gone through wedding photos, passports, old pictures, sketches, their marriage license, recent bills, their new wills, life-insurance policies, an old deed, an old house-insurance policy, and three baby albums that Chloe had made while he was deployed. None of it had contained anything that related to the identity of Mac702.

Mike sat cross-legged on the rug, sad and exhausted. Every task was made more difficult with one arm, and his stump was killing him, swelling from the activity, but he still wanted to look through Chloe’s black-lacquered jewelry box. She used to put receipts, bills, and anything she thought was important inside, and he lifted the lid. The jewelry glittered in the light of the desk lamp, a tangled pile of gold chains, earrings, and necklaces along with old photos, some receipts, and some sea-glass beads.

Mike’s throat caught at the sight. He had given her a lot of the jewelry and remembered it on her. The delicate rose gold chain that rested on her collarbones, the long garnet earrings that got tangled in her hair, the string of silvery Tibetan bells that jingled when she moved. He looked away, to the pile of wrinkly receipts on top of the rings. He checked each one, but they were from the bookstore, the dry cleaners, and a shoe repair. He was about to close the lid when he spotted an ornate gold bangle he hadn’t seen before. The gold had scrolled etching, gleaming with a richness that was unmistakably eighteen-karat.

Mike’s mouth went dry. He’d never seen the bracelet before and he hadn’t given it to her, and she certainly hadn’t bought it for herself. She didn’t shop much since Emily was born, and even so, this looked too expensive for her to have bought herself, or for Sara to have bought for her. At eighteen-karat gold, it could’ve cost a grand. He realized with a start that Mac702 must have given it to her.

Mike got up, grabbed a Kleenex, and wrapped it around the bracelet. The police might be able to get fingerprints from it, or they could go to jewelry stores in the area and ask if they sold any bracelets like it in November or December of last year, and to whom. It seemed like a great lead, and he’d bring the bracelet to the police tomorrow. He went to the door, buoyed by his success and getting his second wind.

He’d go through that storage unit, if it took him all night.

Chapter Fifty

Mike didn’t get home until early the next morning, but the kitchen lights were on, so he knew the household was already awake. “I’m home,” he said, hanging up his coat, and even that simple act set nerves jangling through his chest, shoulders, and neck. His stump needed to be rested and elevated, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon. He headed into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mike.” Bob sat at the table in his plaid robe, catty-corner to Emily in her high chair, and Danielle was on the baby’s other side, in her robe too, looking at him with concern.

“You poor thing, were you in that storage shed all night? Did you find anything?”

“Not there, no. Hi, Emily.” Mike smiled at Emily, who squirmed at the sight of him. She looked adorable in a fuzzy yellow sleeper with an embroidered giraffe, and her amber curls were flattened on one side, as if she’d slept on them.

“Aw, Emily.” Danielle leaned over to her. “Emily, it’s just Daddy. Daddy’s home. Say, hi Daddy.”

Emily’s eyes were a confused blue, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, and Mike remembered the boxes of her baby pictures from last night. There were so many photos he hadn’t seen before, and looking through them, he felt as if he’d vicariously experienced her growing from baby to toddler.

“Emily, it’s Daddy. I’m happy to see you. How are you?”

Emily blinked, puckering her lips and drawing backwards, so that her soft chin vanished into the folds of her neck. Her hands were slick with butter from scrambled eggs on her plate. “No,” she said, pointing at the window.

“No?” Mike asked, not understanding.

“She said ‘snow.’” Danielle gestured at the windows, where another few inches had fallen, clumping on the shrubs and filling in the deer tracks. “It’s hard to understand her if you’re not around her. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Bob chuckled. “Danielle’s the family interpreter.”

“Right, snow,” Mike said, but Emily was looking away. He crossed to the coffeemaker, slid out the pot, and poured himself a mug. An under-cabinet TV played the local news on low volume, and a weatherman in a bowtie stuck a yardstick into a snowdrift. Mike had practically frozen in the storage unit last night. “So how are you all?”

“Great,” Danielle answered, beginning to rise. “You want eggs or pancakes? Bob had both.”

“No, please sit. I ate at a diner.” Mike waved Danielle back into her seat. “Again, I’m sorry about last night.”

“We are, too.” Danielle smiled in a reassuring way. “It’s over. Families fuss, it’s normal.”

Bob sipped his coffee. “Perfectly normal.”

“Thanks,” Mike said, relieved. “Did you hear anything from Don or the police?”

“No.”

“I did find something in Chloe’s jewelry box, a bangle that I think she was given by Mac702.” Mike sipped his coffee. “I’m going to turn it over to the police today.”

“A bangle?” Danielle lifted an eyebrow.

“Really?” Bob brought his mug and plate to the sink. “What does that tell you?”

“I figure the police can go to the jewelry stores and ask if they sold any bracelets like it in November or December of last year, or maybe they can get fingerprints from it.”

“They can do that on
Castle.
” Danielle watched Emily, who was pressing scrambled eggs into her mouth. “The police can do so much, nowadays. They can get latent prints and even partial prints. They can even get fingerprints from paper, did you know that?”

Bob rolled his eyes, turning from the sink. “Nancy Drew, reporting in.”

“Hmph,” Danielle said lightly, smiling at Emily. “Emily, you finished your breakfast? Did you like that?”

“No,” Emily answered, then laughed.

Mike smiled. “Was that a no or a snow?”

“I think it was a no.” Danielle wiggled Emily’s foot in its non-skid footie. “You little sillyhead.”

Mike winked at Emily impulsively, and she tried to wink back, scrunching up her nose and squinting both eyes. It was so great and unexpected, he almost laughed. He winked again, and Emily winked back again.

Danielle looked over with a smile. “Emily, Daddy’s flirting with you. Can you wink? Wink back at your Daddy.” She winked in an exaggerated way. “Like this, see? Wink your eye.”

“I do it.” Emily scrunched up her nose and squinted both eyes, and they all laughed.

“Good job!” Mike said, completely charmed.

Bob kissed the baby on her head. “I gotta go grab a shower. I have to go to the office today, after church. Self-employment is a trip, isn’t it? You always have a job, but you
always
have a job. Tell me how the Eagles do, will you?”

“I can’t, I’m going to see about work, too.” Mike had been trading emails with Jim. “I’m meeting with Jim and Lyon at the office today.”

Bob smiled, pleasantly. “Good. Back in the saddle, eh?”

Danielle smiled, too. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Mike.”

“Thanks.” Mike sensed they were all on their best behavior. “I’ll know more after rehab about what I can and can’t do, but I want to understand my options.”

Bob patted his shoulder. “I hear that. You’ll come with us to church, right?”

Mike flashed on the church where he’d fallen, trying to hold Emily. He thought of Chloe’s casket. Phat Phil, Oldstein, and now Sara. “Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t been in so long.”

“So what?” Bob frowned. “You’re welcome, you know that.”

“What about Emily? Do you get a sitter?”

“No, we take her.”

“Emily goes to church?” Mike kept the surprise from his tone. Chloe would have approved, but he was getting a better idea. “Guys, why don’t you two go to church and leave Emily home with me? I’ll take care of her.”