Hide Away (A Rachel Marin Thriller) Page 11

  It took time for the family to blend, but once they did, they blended like a fine Bordeaux. Tally watched over Claire’s children like they were her own, and they allowed her into their own little worlds. She introduced them to her partner, John Serrano, and they loved hearing Serrano regale them with tales of demons and dragons. At least some people appreciate my taste in literature, he said. They had him over for dinner half a dozen times a year, and he always brought over a delicious bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Claire beamed every time Serrano helped himself to a second plate of her delicious osso buco.

  One terrible night, Claire’s youngest, Bobby, came down with meningitis. One moment the five of them were snuggled up watching a movie on the Disney channel, kettle corn peppering the sofa, and the next moment Bobby was on the floor, convulsing. They rushed him to the Mackenzie North pediatric unit, all the while Tally unsure of how large a part in this medical emergency she should play. She was Claire’s girlfriend, not Bobby’s mother, and the kids were still coming to terms with their relationship. So while Claire stayed at Mackenzie with Bobby, Tally remained at Claire’s house and watched Penny and Elyse. The three of them sat by the phone with tear-streaked faces, hour after hour, praying Bobby would pull through.

  Claire texted constant updates. Tally’s heart stopped every time her phone chimed with a new text.

  His fever hit 104 today

  He can’t hold down any food. They’re feeding him through an IV. I can’t cry in front of him.

  And Tally would text back platitudes—Stay strong, we’re praying for him—because she simply didn’t know what else to say.

  Bobby was in intensive care for two weeks. Two weeks straight, Tally was scared to death. Scared for the child. Scared for the future of her relationship. It had been a long time since she’d loved someone the way she loved Claire, and if something happened to Bobby, it would never be the same.

  How was it possible to feel fear and selfishness at the same time?

  Tally cried nonstop. Hid it at work. Hid it from Serrano. He knew something was up but knew enough not to ask. Cops cried, but not in front of each other.

  During the two weeks when Bobby was touch and go, Tally cooked for Penny and Elyse every night. She did the laundry, cleaned the house when they went to bed, and said a prayer for Bobby before she closed her eyes. Tally figured it was the least she could do as her girlfriend sat by her son’s bedside at the hospital, praying the virus wouldn’t take his life. All the while, Tally was petrified both of doing too much and not enough and was never quite sure where the line was for either.

  The night Claire brought Bobby home from the hospital, the family celebrated and cried until they had no tears left. Then, when they put the kids to bed, Leslie and Claire made love with a quiet intensity and urgency. And from that day forward, they had known they would never be apart again.

  Driving now, with Serrano silent in the seat next to her, Leslie Tally thought about those haunting nights, waiting to hear from Claire, steeling her resolve if the dreaded call ever came that Bobby had passed away. Thank God it never had. But Tally remembered that fear, that sadness, that anxiety. And it hadn’t even been for her own blood.

  When John Serrano’s life had cracked in half, Tally had been his partner less than a year. She hadn’t known him well. She had given him the same platitudes.

  It’ll get better. Even though she had known it never really would.

  She’d thought he would leave the force. Especially after his rift with Constance Wright. She’d even hoped, for a brief time, that she would be reassigned to a partner whose baggage didn’t weigh them down. She regretted those feelings, because now Tally couldn’t imagine working with anyone else. John Serrano felt like family the same way Bobby, Penny, Elyse, and Claire felt like family. Not her blood, but it didn’t matter. And family took care of family.

  “John,” Tally said. “Talk to me.”

  Serrano offered a weak smile. “I don’t remember the last time you called me John.”

  “I whip it out for special occasions. Hey, don’t let what that Marin woman said get to you. She doesn’t know anything, and she’s clearly got a screw loose.”

  “I know. You’re right,” Serrano said. But it was lip service. Serrano was in pain.

  As they crossed Parker Avenue, heading uptown toward the precinct, Serrano said, “Hey, pull over here.”

  “Why?” Tally said. Then it hit her. “John, come on. You’re going to Voss Field, aren’t you?”

  “It’s been too long since I visited. I need to see it.”

  “We need to write up our report on Nicholas Drummond. The lieutenant will be expecting it first thing tomorrow. I need you, partner. Going there tonight won’t do you any good.”

  “It’s not about good or bad. It’s just something I need to do. Do me a solid, Leslie,” Serrano said. “You write up the report tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “All right. Don’t stay out past curfew,” she said.

  Tally pulled over at the corner of Parker and Willoughby. Snow was dusting the windshield, collecting at the edges of her vision, where they were swept aside by the wipers. Serrano got out of the car, leaned in, and said, “Thanks.” Then he shut the door and walked off.

  Tally watched as Serrano walked to a bodega on the corner, his hair immediately carpeted with falling snow. Tally couldn’t watch. She’d seen this story before. Alcohol and melancholy went hand in hand.

  Tally put on her blinker and drove off. She let one tear slide down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. One tear in private. That’s all she’d allow herself. She couldn’t drown in other people’s sorrows. John Serrano had an ocean of sadness he had to swim every single day. It wasn’t her job to continually toss him a life raft when he drifted.

  One of these days, Tally thought ruefully, Serrano would go under. She couldn’t let him drag her down too.

  CHAPTER 12

  By the time Rachel got home, she was cold, wet, shivering, exhausted, and scared. It was well after 8:00 p.m. She’d called Iris while running to the car from the Drummond house, praying she wouldn’t slip and break her neck while doing so, pleading with her sitter not to leave her children home alone.

  When Rachel opened the front door, she saw Iris standing in the foyer, her coat already on, purse slung over her shoulder. Rachel knew at that moment they’d never see each other again.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I love your children,” Iris said, her voice full of regret. “But you need to find someone else to take care of them.”

  The comment cut through Rachel like a blade, searing her from stomach to eyes.

  “Please,” Rachel said, her voice trembling. “I’m begging you, Iris. We need you.”

  “You’ve always been kind to me, Ms. Marin. But we’ll have this same conversation next week. And the week after that too. I already said goodbye to Eric and Megan. They don’t understand. But that has to be on you to explain it to them, not me.”

  “I’ll pay you more,” Rachel said. “Just name your price.”

  Iris shook her head. “This job isn’t always about the money.”

  She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Rachel. Rachel hugged her back weakly, feeling like every last bit of energy had been siphoned from her body. She remembered how hard it had been to find Iris. Demand for good, responsible nannies in Ashby far outpaced supply. With Iris’s impeccable credentials and referrals, Rachel had agreed to pay her fifty dollars more per day than what other families were offering. Rachel couldn’t have just anyone watching her children. Not after what they’d been through.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said.

  “I am too.” Then Iris picked up her umbrella and walked out of their lives.

  Rachel took a deep breath and went upstairs to face her children. Her mind was racing. She’d need to find a stopgap solution. Another sitte
r. Eric wasn’t old enough to watch Megan alone, and given his tempestuous attitude recently, she wasn’t sure she’d even trust him.

  Megan’s door was cracked open. She was lying on the floor with a carton of markers and pages of colorful paper spilled out in front of her. One such page read Sadie Scout and the Mystery of the Easter Egg Hunt. Rachel smiled. She loved that her daughter’s imagination was churning at such an early age. Both she and Eric had been bookworms, devouring every book they could get their hands on. It warmed Rachel’s heart to see her making something of her own. For a moment, Rachel stood in the doorway, marveling at this small, gorgeous girl feeding her bottomless imagination.

  “I hear you, Mom,” Megan said, still scribbling. She didn’t turn around, just grabbed another page and continued coloring. Then, dramatically, she flipped onto her back and craned her head up. “You try to be all sneaky, but I can hear you.”

  “You’re like a little sonar machine,” Rachel said, smiling warmly.

  “Somar? What’s that?”

  “Sonar, not somar. It’s a device that can pick up the smallest, tiniest sounds. Sounds nothing else can hear.”

  “So I’m like a radar.”

  “You are. My beautiful little radar.”

  Megan thought for a moment. She seemed to like the idea of being a radar.

  “Iris said she isn’t coming back,” Megan said. “Is that true?”

  Rachel’s heart felt heavy. She sat down next to Megan and put her hand on her daughter’s leg. Megan wasn’t crying. That saddened Rachel. Megan was used to saying goodbye.

  “Yes. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

  “How come she’s not coming back? I asked her, but she didn’t really say much. She said you would tell us.”

  Rachel sighed.

  “Mommy messed up. Mommy messed up big-time,” Rachel said.

  “How did you mess up?”

  “Iris has her own family. Her own life. Not just you and Eric. And, well, Mommy made it hard for Iris.”

  “Why did you make it hard for her?”

  “Mommy didn’t do it on purpose . . . Mommy just lost track of time. She wants so badly to not just be a good mommy but also a good person. It wasn’t Iris’s fault at all. She loves you two.”

  “Then why did she leave? Why does everyone go away? Iris? Even our friends. And Dad.”

  There it was. The gut punch. Tears welled up in Rachel’s eyes. She hugged Megan tight and stroked her hair.

  “Oh, sweetie, your father didn’t go away, you know that. He still loves you from up on high.”

  “But he’s still gone. And now Iris is gone.”

  “You know that’s not the same thing,” Rachel said.

  “How?” Megan said. She sat up, stared at her mother, defiance flaring in her eyes. “How is it different? I’m never going to see Iris again just like I’m never going to see my friends or Dad again. You told us that before we moved here.”

  “You’ll always have memories of Iris,” Rachel said softly, “just like we still have memories of your dad.”

  “I don’t have memories of Dad,” Megan said. “I was a baby. I don’t really remember anything. Sometimes it feels like I never had a dad.”

  “Oh, baby, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You had a wonderful dad, and he loved you with all his heart. He still loves you, just from somewhere else.”

  “I miss him so much. How can you miss someone you didn’t really know?” Megan began to cry.

  There was no agony greater than seeing your child in pain. Rachel gathered her daughter into her arms and held her close. Her face grew hot as her daughter’s tears wet her blouse.

  “You can miss your daddy. I miss him every single day.”

  “It’s not fair,” Megan said. “I hope that man who took Daddy is dead.”

  “Megan,” Rachel said. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “I do. I hope they caught him and killed him.”

  “Baby, you should never talk like that.”

  “It’s not fair that he’s out there and Dad’s not.”

  Rachel stayed silent. There was nothing she could say to make the hurt go away.

  Besides, I agree with her.

  “Hold on to those memories,” Rachel said. “And if they ever get fuzzy, come talk to me. I’ll make them whole again. I remember every moment like it was yesterday.”

  Rachel kissed Megan on the cheek and stood up. “I’m going to see how your brother is doing. I hear there’s a new Wimpy Kid book out. I’ll bring you home a copy tomorrow.”

  “That’s a bribe.”

  Rachel laughed. “How do you know what a bribe is?”

  “Iris taught us. Eric told her he would do his homework if she let him play fifteen more minutes on his computer. She said he was bribing her.”

  “See. You really are a radar.”

  Megan smiled. Rachel kissed her cheek one more time and went to see Eric.

  Her son’s door was closed. She knocked—a habit that was hard to learn. One day he was her little man; the next day he wanted “privacy.”

  “Yeah?” he said. Not the warmest welcome, but she was used to it. Rachel entered his room.

  Eric was sitting at his computer, playing a game with so much going on it made Rachel’s eyes hurt. He was tapping away at the keyboard while a soldier with biceps the size of Buicks and a gun the size of a confectionary oven was massacring aliens that looked like giant gobs of purple-green phlegm with teeth.

  “I didn’t say you could come in,” Eric said.

  “You said ‘yeah.’ I took that as an acknowledgment of my presence.”

  Eric shrugged. He paused the game right as one of the phlegm creatures was being blasted into intergalactic space goop. He swiveled his chair around. “So I guess Iris is toast.”

  “She’s not toast. We just decided it was time for her to move on.”

  “You’re lying. She quit.”

  “Yes. She quit.”

  “So what are you going to do with Megan when she gets home from school?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet.”

  “I can watch her when I get home.”

  Rachel laughed. “Not yet you won’t.”

  “I bet I’m cheaper than Iris was,” he said.

  “And how exactly do you know how much Iris cost?”

  “I saw you paying her one day. You were counting out twenties on the counter.” Eric paused. “It was a lot of twenties.”

  “It costs a lot to convince someone to take care of two monsters like you and your sister.”

  “So what are you going to do?” he said.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Eric didn’t seem disturbed by Iris’s departure. She knew it would hit Megan hard. But she supposed Eric was older, didn’t need as much attention. He came home from school and went right to his room. But she knew he had also been pushing his emotions away, burying them. She worried his emotions had calcified. Megan had been younger when they’d left. Eric had friends. A life. And he had to say goodbye to all of it.

  He was six when their lives were turned upside down. Young, but old enough to remember the way things used to be in a way that Megan did not. Losing Iris after everything he’d been through wouldn’t shake him. He’d lived through worse.

  But Rachel wanted him to be upset. She wanted him to be a normal kid. To be affected the way other kids would be. But after the horror he’d experienced, those “normal” wires had been frayed. Eric was a good kid. No, a great kid. But Rachel was waiting for him to exhibit all the erratic behaviors that she had as a child, the reckless and capricious behaviors of a growing boy. She wanted Eric to get in trouble. Throw a baseball through a window. Drink a beer. Moon a tour bus full of nuns. Eventually break a few hearts.

  It was hard for Rachel to complain that her son came home, did his homework, played around on his computer, and went to bed. But she felt his youth had been stolen well before its time, leaving a thirteen-year-old shell of a boy in its w
ake.

  Rachel looked at the computer screen. “What on earth are you playing?”

  “Galactic Warfare Brigade 11.”

  “Eleven? Does that mean you already played the first ten? When do you have time for homework?”

  “How are my grades?” Eric asked. “Because until my grades start to suck, you can’t tell me to do anything. Plus number twelve will be out next month, and I intend to play that one too.”

  “How do you pay for these games?” she said.

  “I don’t. I belong to an online group, and they post pirated versions of games and movies and music where you can get it for free.”

  “Isn’t that stealing?” Rachel said.

  “They don’t need the money,” he replied.

  “Imagine you made a game. Spent years of your life working on it. And then someone stole it. What would you say?”

  “That I should have been more careful.”

  Rachel sighed and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know where you learned this behavior.”

  “Can I unpause the game now? Or do you have more to say?”

  Sometimes, at moments like these, she could visualize herself slapping her son. The casual cruelty was shocking. She took a breath. Eric was hurting. Lashing out.

  “All right, Galactic Commander. Get back to shooting Play-Doh or whatever those purple things are.”

  Rachel went to leave but paused. There was a gentle thumping noise coming from outside his window. It sounded like someone rapping on a glass door. Not a gentle tap, though. Determined. Eric appeared to notice it too. He got up and looked out the window.

  He leaned forward, a confused look on his face. Then the confusion turned quickly to alarm.

  “What is it?” Rachel said. She joined him at the window and looked down. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw what he was looking at.