Obsession (8 page)

I can’t.

A sob broke through his clenched lips.

Your daughter, Alex.

Your daughter.

“Maggie,” he whispered to the silent house, finally crossing that line and admitting she had been real. Maggie. He swiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

The guilt was constant. Eating at him. He’d learned early on that the emotion would stay with him forever.

He’d been chasing the scum of the earth in a field, all alone, while his daughter slipped from the safety of Tess’s womb into the harsh realities of the world. He was cuffing the dirtbag when his daughter drew her first and last breath.

He returned to the police station, pumped up on adrenaline, ecstatic he’d gotten his man, while Tess lay in a hospital bed, devastated at the loss of their daughter.

Even though he received a royal chewing out for not calling backup and not following officer safety procedures, his fellow officers slapped him on the back and demanded he tell the story again and again—while his daughter’s cold body lay in the hospital morgue.

He happily complied, drunk on his success.

While Tess cried all alone, unable to find him.

Hours later the dispatcher remembered to call him. He raced to the hospital, his stomach twisting in fear. He couldn’t lose Tess. He prayed for God to save Tess instead of the baby. They could have other babies, just please, God, don’t take Tess.

But God hadn’t listened. He’d taken the baby—and Tess too.

He looked up at the ornament that mocked him, a tangible reminder of what an awful father he had been. Secretly he’d been relieved when Tess hadn’t been able to get pregnant a second time.

It got to the point that he couldn’t stand to come home to her haunted eyes and pleas for another child. He’d worked more, took on extra shifts, extra details. Said yes to things he should have said no to.

No wonder she’d asked him to leave. Just as he’d been a horrible father, he’d been a lousy husband, turning away when she needed him the most, closing his eyes to her pain, his ears to her cries.

He hung his head in shame and guilt. Always the guilt. Unrelenting guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just…is.

Alex pushed up from the couch and limped silently to the window. Snow was falling again.
It’s not your fault.

The need to hold Tess, to feel her curled up next to him, drove him to the bedroom. She lay half on his side of the bed, half on hers, hair covering her face, hand curled under her cheek. He pulled off his jeans and nudged her over. He took her in his arms, burying his nose in her hair, fighting the tears and guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Tessie,” he whispered into the darkness.

It’s no one’s fault, Alex.

Would she have lost the baby if he’d been there? Margaret. Maggie. His daughter.

It just…is.

What if Maggie had lived? Where would he and Tess be then? Was it fair to Maggie to end their relationship? Was it fair to either of them?

I love you. And that’s a good place to start.

He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on Tess. Love had gotten them here. Maybe love would be enough see them through.

Chapter Thirteen

The winter storm may have stopped, leaving mounds of snow and ice in its path, but a storm was still raging inside Tess. She filled the sink with hot water and squirted in dish detergent, absently swirling her hand through the bubbles.

The last three days had been like a honeymoon. By unspoken agreement, she and Alex had locked themselves inside, ignoring the phone, emerging only to let Othello out and raid the refrigerator.

Since the storm ended Alex had taken to prowling the rooms, bored and frustrated. He still used the cane, but didn’t lean on it as much as before. She scrubbed the bowl, using more force than necessary.

Her thoughts had driven her to the kitchen to create and bake. Alex didn’t have that luxury. He couldn’t return to work yet and she could see in his tormented eyes that the thought ate at him.

She shoved the bowl under the faucet and rinsed off the soap. She couldn’t lose him again, yet didn’t want to go back to the life they’d had before. She wanted him the way she’d had him the last two days—to herself, without the pressing weight of his career.

Yet, deep down she knew that wasn’t possible. Alex was a cop. It wasn’t what he did, it was who he was. Already he was restless with a need to do something other than toss the ball to the dog and watch her bake.

Large warm hands crept up her back and under her shirt. Her head fell back onto Alex’s shoulder and she put the bowl on the drying rack. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his beard rasped against her skin, causing heat to curl low in her belly, making her legs weak and her breath rush out of her.

“Been baking?” he asked between kisses. He turned her around, his hands rubbing her back. Brown eyes darkened when he didn’t feel a bra. “Storm’s over.”

She pushed away from him. “Yes, storm’s over.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He stepped back and held his arms out to his sides. “Hey look, ma, no cane!” He spun in an awkward circle, sort of half-hopping, half-shuffling.

“Do you think you should be doing that?”

The bright excitement in his eyes dimmed and his hands dropped to his sides. “What’s wrong, Tessie?”

She shook her head and sighed. “I’m just worried you’re overdoing it.” Moving too fast. Moving away from her.

He pulled her back into his arms. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Let me work through it with you. I can’t save this marriage alone.”

She laid her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed her back. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you’re thinking. I thought you’d be happy I could walk without the cane.”

“I am happy.”

“You don’t want me to go back to work.” He pulled away and looked in her eyes. “I have to go back, Tess. You know that.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be like before, I promise.”

She looked away, crossed her arms under her breasts and felt the heavy weight of Alex’s stare. “You’ve said that before,” she said softly.

He sighed. “Tess. Shit.” He turned away, ran a hand through his hair. “I screwed up before. I know that.” He turned back to her. “This time will be different, I swear.”

The back of her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. “I want to believe you. I really do.”

He took a step forward. “Trust me. I love you, Tessie.”

“Oh, Alex. I love you, too. I just… I’m afraid.”

He gathered her in his arms. “I am too, Tess. More afraid than I’ve ever been. I’m so damn scared I’m going to blow it. I can’t lose you again.”

She laid her cheek on his shoulder and didn’t know what to say. It seemed an impossible situation, with both of them losing.

***

Alex stood at the doors of the police station and watched Tess’s van turn the corner. A mix of emotions churned inside him. Excitement to be walking back into the PD, even if it wasn’t to work, and fear that he was losing Tess all over again. They hadn’t accomplished anything. She was still afraid to trust him, and sometimes he wondered if she
should
trust him.

He pushed through the doors and stashed his cane behind a decorative palm. It was one thing to hobble around the house without it, but he knew he wasn’t quite ready to ditch it totally even though he was amazed at how quickly he was healing. It’d been nearly three weeks since his shooting. According to the doctors’ timeline, he shouldn’t be this far along for another month or so. Which gave him hope that he’d be back on the road much sooner than even he’d expected.

He made his way toward the report writing room. He’d told Tess he had a meeting concerning the investigation. No way would he admit the truth.
So what does that tell you, Juran? You haven’t changed one bit. No wonder she doesn’t believe anything you say.

It was better she didn’t know or she’d worry, and he didn’t want her worrying. She’d done enough of that already.

He pushed open the door and stepped in. Uniformed officers were sitting on desks and in chairs, others were leaning against walls, waiting for roll call. It was the usual chaos—friendly ribbing, mild curses and ringing phones. A spitball sailed passed his ear. Two officers were engaged in a minor wrestling match in the far corner.

He missed this place—missed the camaraderie, the jokes only another officer would understand, and the feeling of knowing he had a purpose in life. An ache of longing to once again be a part of this brotherhood hit him low in the gut and his fists clenched in frustration. This was what Tess feared the most. This connection, this need to be with these men more than with her.

Tony, still in uniform, entered from a door on the other side of the room. He stopped to talk to a few officers, jabbing them in the arm in a friendly gesture and laughing with them. He spotted Alex and gave a laid-back salute.

“Juran’s here,” he said.

Everyone turned to look. Alex leaned casually against the doorframe to take the weight off his aching knee.

“Hey, Juran, you back for good?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not yet, Harrison.”

Harrison groaned good-naturedly. “Give us a break, Juran. We’re having withdrawals. We need a dose of Tess’s cookies.” They all laughed, including Alex. The guys loved it when Tess baked a batch of cookies for them and complained when, for the six months they’d been separated, there hadn’t been any.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked, knowing and anticipating the answer. He wasn’t disappointed. Police officers were complainers by nature. Every one of them broke into a chorus of the wrongdoings of the department and the shittiness of life in general.

Some things never changed and he was damn glad of it. It was like coming home.

Tony wound his way through the group. “You sure you still want to do this?” he asked under his breath.

Alex nodded.

“Okay, then, bro, just let me change and we’ll be on our way.”

“Hey, Juran, what’s the deal with all the calls to your house lately? Seeing the bogeyman around every corner?”

The room went silent. Alex’s smile slipped. Tony stopped, his gaze going to Alex.

“Way to go, asshole,” someone muttered.

“Better watch it, Bertram. Juran chews up and spits out FNGs like you.” Harrison scowled at the younger officer. An FNG himself—frigging new guy.

“Hey,” someone else called out. “Remember that one? What was his name? Abbott?”

Harrison’s face brightened and he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it. Claimed to be an ex-Marine. Juran rode his ass so hard the guy quit. Upton said he cried when he put his notice in. Said Juran was too hard on him.”

“Is that what everyone thinks?” Alex asked, his voice quiet. “You think I’m seeing things? Making things up?”

Another uncomfortable silence fell until someone said, “Hell no, Alex.”

Alex pushed away from the doorframe and shot his coworkers a disgusted look. “Maybe when your wives are threatened and your homes vandalized, you’ll understand.”

A throat cleared, feet shuffled.

Alex searched the faces of his fellow officers. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, Blankenship.”

He walked out, painfully aware that his limp was more pronounced than usual.

***

Tess pulled her glove off with her teeth and rummaged through her coat pocket for Alex’s keys. She’d been meaning to come to his apartment and pack up the rest of his clothes. With Alex in his meeting, now was as good a time as any.

She stopped in front of the door marked 404, unlocked it and pushed it open. The place smelled of stale air and curry from the apartment next door. A lone ray of light shone through the half-closed drapes, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and a secondhand couch in front of an old TV perched on a microwave stand.

This was where Alex had lived for the past six months? There was nothing here to make it a home, just a stopping-off place to eat, shower and sleep. How depressing.

She shook off her thoughts and headed into the kitchen with the intention of cleaning out the refrigerator. A mug sat next to the sink, cold coffee and mold congealing in it. Tess threw it away, mug and all. She opened the refrigerator and peered in, not surprised to see a bottle of beer and a shriveled carrot, but puzzled at the six-pack of root beer. Alex didn’t even like root beer.

A sound came from the living room, as if someone was walking around in there. Tess closed the refrigerator door and cocked her head to listen but only heard canned laughter from the TV next door. She poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Tony? Alex?” The surge of the furnace kicking on and the tick of the water heater answered.

Tess shrugged, ducked back into the kitchen and opened the freezer to find three plastic takeout containers of desserts she’d baked for local delis. They were covered in frost and the dates on them were from the beginning of December.

“Oh, Alex.” Her heart hurt a little more as she reached for the desserts, then pulled back, deciding to leave them for now. Root beer and her desserts. What was that all about?

She gathered the rest of the trash and set the overstuffed bag beside the kitchen door to take out later, then headed toward Alex’s bedroom. She stopped and stared at the front door, frowning. She was almost positive she’d shut it.

So why was it standing open?

***

“Don’t worry about them,” Tony turned the key in the ignition.

Alex looked out the side window. “That’s what they think, isn’t it? That I’m making things up. Seeing the bogeyman.”

“Nah. Well, just a few. You know, the new guys. But we’ll set ’em straight.”

“What are they saying?”

Tony merged into traffic, but kept silent.

“Tell me what they’re saying.”

His partner’s lips thinned.

Alex gripped his cane between his legs. “They think I’m nuts. That I’ve gone off the deep end. What’s gonna happen when the shooter turns out to be the person doing this, Tony? What’s gonna happen when he breaks into my house one night and I call for backup? They’re not going to show and it’ll be up to me.” Barely leashed anger had him tapping his cane. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck
them
. I don’t need ’em. I can protect Tess without their damn help.”

“Look, Alex, cops talk. They come up with wild theories. Today you’re the hot topic. Tomorrow it’ll be someone else. You know the drill, just wait and someone else will do something stupid to take the heat off you. Besides, it’s not all of them, just a few idiots who don’t know any better.”

“So you think what I believe is stupid?”

Tony shook his head, pulled over and threw the car in park. “Look, man, I believe you, okay? You’re my partner and I trust your instincts.”

Alex looked at the dingy gray warehouses. The snow and the darkening day made everything eerily quiet. He looked toward the place where he’d been shot, cold apprehension curling in his gut. Did
he
trust his instincts?

***

Tess frowned and closed the door with a firm click.

Nothing but the wind, Tess.

Wind in an inside hallway?

She pushed the thought away. She must not have closed it tightly enough and when the furnace clicked on, the change in pressure forced it open.

She entered the bedroom, intent on grabbing what clothes she could and getting out so she could pick Alex up from his meeting.

An old comforter from the first days of their marriage lay in a ball on the floor. The covers and sheets were pushed back as if Alex had just climbed out. She touched the cold sheets, imagining him sleeping here. She couldn’t picture Alex living alone here, watching the TV in the other room, preparing for work. Undercover work. She hadn’t even asked about his undercover work. What if that’s what he wanted to go back to instead of patrol? Wearily she rubbed her eyes. They both wanted the marriage to work and that was a definite step in the right direction.

She picked up the comforter and smoothed the sheets, thinking that the last time he’d lain here was the morning before he was shot. Life was so damn unpredictable. One moment he was working, the next he was shot. One moment they were married, the next…

She shook those thoughts away and pulled out a few shirts and a pair of dress pants from his closet, then dropped to her knees and crawled in to search for the duffel bag he always kept on the floor of their closet. Her fingers found the cloth strap and she tugged. Shoes, a tie and a family of dust bunnies came with it. She scooped all the shoes out, searching for his dress shoes, muttering to herself when she couldn’t find the mate.

She reached toward the back of the closet for a lone shoe. The floorboard shifted behind her. She froze. Swallowed. Closed her eyes. Ragged breathing reached out to her, in counterpoint to her own unsteady breaths.