Callahan And McLane: Targeted Part 24

She bit her lip and lowered her voice. "I was worried about you. Several people are worried. It's not like you to not return calls."

He took another drink, still staring at her with reddened eyes. She gazed back. He's hurting.

"I shouldn't have come."

"That's right."

He wants me to get p.i.s.sed at him. "What is going on, Zander? I came here because I give a c.r.a.p about you."

He looked away.

"Did you know it crossed my mind that I might find you staked to your G.o.dd.a.m.ned wall?"

His gaze flew back to hers.

Now I have his attention.

"That's right. You went dark when officers are dying. What was I supposed to think?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think," he mumbled. He set the gla.s.s down on the counter with a loud clank and wiped the back of his hand across his nose.

"No, you didn't think." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the table in the dining nook. "Sit. Tell me what happened." She pushed him into a chair and took the one next to him, giving him her full attention.

"Nothing happened."

"Yes, something happened. This isn't you. You don't get smashed and avoid your coworkers. What happened today?"

"It's the date . . . it's my date." He stared at his hands on the table.

Tomorrow was Halloween. October thirtieth meant nothing to her. "I don't know what you mean," she said slowly. "What happens on October thirtieth?"

He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers, his eyes red and moist. "My wife died on October thirtieth. Our baby, too. This is the one day a year I let myself f.u.c.king fall apart. I can get through the rest of the year if I know I have permission to crumble on October thirtieth. But today I wanted to push through it just this once so I could work the case. I didn't make it."

Ava wanted to cry. His anguish had ripped holes in the air in the room.

I yelled at him.

She put her hands over his on the table. "You never talk about it. I didn't know." Her voice cracked. She'd known his wife was dead, but she hadn't known about a baby. "I didn't know you had a baby."

"We didn't. She was pregnant when she died. Later they told me it'd been a girl."

Her heart broke. "You never told me."

"You never asked."

"I was trying to respect your privacy. I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would." Her shoulders sagged. He was her friend and she'd let him down.

"I'm being unfair," he said. "You're right. I didn't want to talk about it. I avoid thinking about it at all costs."

"What was your wife's name?" she asked softly, watching his face. "I've never heard you say it."

"Faith. Faith Alexandra Wells." He stared at her hands on his.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

He swayed slightly in his seat, and she wondered if she should just put him in bed.

"We tried for years to get pregnant," he said. "It finally happened, but they found the cancer early during her pregnancy. They suggested we abort the baby so they could treat it more aggressively."

"Oh, Zander." She hadn't thought her heart could break any more. "How horrible for the two of you."

"I told her to do it." He looked at Ava, his eyes hard. "She refused."

"No one should ever have to make that decision."

"You've got that f.u.c.king right." He looked back at the kitchen and his gla.s.s on the counter. "I need my drink."

"In a minute," said Ava. "What happened?"

"She refused to have an abortion and she died."

"She would have survived if she'd given up the baby?"

He seemed to shrink. "Probably not. Her cancer had invaded several organs by the time they found it. Stage four. They said treatment might extend her life a little longer."

"And that wasn't good enough for her," Ava said, understanding the horrible decision his wife had made. "She was going to die no matter what."

"We could have had more time," Zander said urgently. "Maybe a new treatment could have been found in those extra months, maybe we could have gone somewhere else, where the drugs didn't have to go through the trials and approvals." His words slurred, and his chin dropped to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Zander." She'd never seen him so defeated. He'd always been the quiet rock. Dependable. Steadfast. Driven. When she needed something, she never hesitated to ask. He always came through for her.

"She never knew it was a girl," he whispered.

"Oh, she knows, Zander. She knows."

"We'd agreed on the name Zachery for a boy and Fiona for a girl. I think about my daughter every day. Would she have looked like Faith?" His eyes begged for her to agree.

"No doubt."

"I have to pull out Faith's pictures to remember what she looked like when she was healthy. Those last few weeks at the hospital, she didn't look like herself, and those images are burned into my brain. She was swollen everywhere, a horrible caricature of the beautiful woman she'd been." He covered his eyes. "My memory of her is fading. Sometimes when I'm at work, I'll try to remember the exact color of her hair and I can't. I hate myself for it . . . I'm forgetting her and she doesn't deserve that. Yesterday I couldn't remember what the color of her eyes looked like."

"How long has it been?"

"Eight years."

"I would expect the memories to have faded a bit, Zander. But as long as you have her photos, you don't have to rely on your memory."

"But I remember everything! Why can't I recall the woman she was instead of that horrible sick body she was at the end?"

Ava fumbled for an answer. "I don't know." Guilt swept through her. "I'm sorry I kept pressuring you to accept dates, Zander. I didn't know you weren't ready."

He waved an unsteady hand in the air. "I've dated."

"Oh." Ava frowned. "You seemed so reluctant. I always a.s.sumed it was because of Faith."

"I know she didn't want me to be alone. She told me that. She knew she was going to die, Ava. She made me promise to look for someone who made me feel alive." He looked away sheepishly. "I've turned down all your suggestions because . . . well . . . because they came from you," he finished quietly.

She pulled back, stung. "You don't think I'm a good judge of character? I wouldn't set you up-"

"It's not that," he stated, meeting her gaze. "It's because I wanted it to be you."

She froze, feeling her heart pound in her chest. A tiny part of her had known, but for him to state it out in the open when it was clearly too late . . .

He gripped her hands. "Don't run away."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I can feel you pulling back. I just f.u.c.ked everything up, didn't I?"

"No. Nothing has changed."

"You're lying to me."

Blood pulsated in her ears. "I'm not. I knew . . . sorta, I think. I think I chose to ignore it. Even Mason knew . . . he was okay with it."

"What?"

"Mason likes you. He knew you wouldn't make a move on me because you'd respect his friendship."

Zander looked away. "He's right."

"You're still my friend, Zander . . . oh, my G.o.d. Was it the talk of the wedding venue the other day that was bugging you?" He still had a firm hold on her hands. She tugged, but he didn't let go.

"Yes," he said simply. "It's getting closer. Before there was always a chance that the two of you wouldn't last. But now I can see you're meant for him. Not for me."

"That's right," she said softly. "I love him like nothing I've ever experienced before. He's part of me. I suspect you know the feeling I'm talking about."

"I do." He gazed at the table.

"Can you live with this relationship?"

"I have no choice."

"Do you want off our case? Would that make it easier?"

He looked back up at her, holding her gaze for a long time. "No and no. I don't want to lose what we have."

"Me neither."

His doorbell jangled.

"That's Mercy Kilpatrick."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Christ. How many other people are coming?"

"Just her. We were both worried about you. You're lucky I didn't send over a squad of patrol cars first. I probably should have."

He pushed back his chair. "Send her home. I'm going to bed." He eyed the freshly opened bottle of vodka. "I'm done with that. Take it with you, would you? And I'll be at work in the morning. Good as new."

"Thank you for telling me about Faith and Fiona, Zander."

The doorbell rang again.

"Can you handle Mercy? I don't want to see anyone else tonight." He headed for his stairs.

The slump of his shoulders worried her, and she decided to shock him out of it. "Isn't Mercy single?" she nudged.

He stopped and turned to stare at her, his jaw dropping. Then he spotted her small grin and swore under his breath. "Screw you, McLane." He continued his unsteady trek toward his stairs.

She watched him go, satisfied she'd gotten a reaction out of him but ready to rush forward if he couldn't manage the staircase. He carefully stepped his way to the top, and she went to answer the door. At least she'd seen him smile when he realized she was joking about the other agent.

But she'd never forget the soul-deep pain in his eyes when he'd said his daughter's name.

26.

He scrolled down through the local news station's website, looking for new information on the murders of the cops. The other night had been a close one; he'd f.u.c.ked up. He hadn't expected Lucien Fujioka to fight back.

He'd incapacitated each man before he'd known what was happening.

Luckily he'd been armed. He'd been armed for the other encounters, but he'd never had to actually fire the gun. Fujioka had nearly gotten the upper hand.

He'd placed the mask on the kitchen floor when Fujioka was out of the room. Confused, Fujioka had picked up the mask when he returned. The floor creaked as he stepped into his swing with the bat. Fujioka heard it and turned. The bat didn't fully connect and Fujioka lunged at him. They'd fought. He'd knocked the slightly dazed cop down and fired.

The sound had been deafening.

He'd fled, leaving the mask still in Fujioka's hand.

An ad blasted from the news station's website and he turned off the volume. He wouldn't screw up like that again.

His list had one more name.