Page 47 of The Drowned Woman
Leah crouched down to peer under the sheet. A rush of pride made her put her hand to her chest—Emily, who often had trouble remembering to be kind and polite, she was so busy trying to be grown-up, had given Nate her bunk and had taken the mattress on the floor. She’d even shared a few of her new favorite stuffed animals, which were arranged along the railing and the nightstand to stand guard over them.
Blinking back tears, Leah fought the urge to crawl in beside the children. Emily’s snores were deep and steady, while Nate slept on his belly, arms and legs thrown out as if they were growing too fast for him to keep them tucked under the covers. Leah leaned forward, head brushing the sheet overhead, and gave them each a kiss on the forehead before backing out and quietly closing the door.
Ruby stood in the hallway, holding her glass of wine, watching. “I was gonna go out, meet some friends, but with the rain and all, guess I’ll stay in. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
“Thanks for picking them up from school. I told them to call me next time so you won’t be bothered.”
“No bother.” Ruby took a step down the hall but turned back. “They’re good kids.” Then she walked away, leaving Leah to decipher her tone. Did she mean, good kids unlike Leah, who Ruby had abandoned time and again when she was a child? Or that Leah was failing at making certain Emily knew she was a good kid, now that she had to juggle twice the parenting duties and all the disciplining?
It was hard to know with Ruby. With her nothing was ever the simple truth—most of the time, it was nothing even close to the truth. Ruby’s life had always revolved around Ruby—and her constant need to be the center of attention—which was why Leah was so puzzled by her comment. Maybe she was wrong, maybe Ruby was finally growing up. Or at least trying.
Puzzling over her mother’s intentions and realizing she might never understand Ruby, Leah went back downstairs and retrieved the evidence boxes from the Subaru, carrying them inside to the kitchen table.
Luka needed Ian’s files, but there was something else more important to Leah. Before tackling the computers, she tore open the small plastic envelope and retrieved Ian’s wedding ring. It was too wide for her to wear on her finger, but she retrieved a spool of braided silk thread from the mudroom where her great-aunt Nellie used to tie bouquets of flowers. Leah hung the ring around her neck, the gold metal chill against her skin.
Then she found the box with Ian’s computer, unpacked it and plugged it in, but couldn’t bring herself to turn it on. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table listlessly eating a lukewarm bowl of leftover chili, not really tasting it as she stared at the dark screen.
She yearned to see what was in the computer—it was as much a part of Ian as his fingers or toes—but was also afraid that it wouldn’t feel real, that seeing his words glowing on the screen would be a letdown, a reminder that he was never coming back. Finally, she dared tap the power button. The machine whirred to life with the soft exhalation of someone startled from a dream.
Tears ambushed her as the home screen filled with a photo of her and Emily. She was reading Emily a bedtime story, snuggled on Emily’s old bed in their old house, surrounded by all her favorite old stuffed animals and dolls. The same bed Ian had died on.
Guilt bowed her shoulders and she had to close her eyes to stave off the dark tsunami of grief that ambushed her. She choked back bile, the chili turning rancid, churning through her gut. How long would she feel this way? The rest of her life?
A gentle rapping at the kitchen door had her jerking her head up. Luka stood there, waiting on the back porch—only company used the front door. She pushed her chair back, stood, and opened the door. The rain had finally stopped—his coat was dry and the pitter-patter that had been a constant these past few weeks as it drummed against the metal roof was silent.
“Nate up?” he asked as she stood aside to let him into the kitchen. He held a Batman knapsack in one hand—Nate’s clothing, no doubt.
“No, they’re both asleep.”
“Already?” He seemed disappointed as he set the knapsack on a chair.
“He was asleep by the time I got home so I didn’t have a chance to talk to him. How much are you going to tell him? About why you want him to stay here?”
“Not sure. I’d love it if I never have to tell him anything. It’s overwhelming to me—what’s a kid going to think or feel? I mean, how do I even start to explain?”
She motioned for him to sit as she brewed them both cups of tea. Luka was a fan of Nellie’s cinnamon and rosehip blend and it was Leah’s favorite as well. “I think,” she answered as she waited for the water to heat, “a kid like Nate needs the truth more than anything.”
“Right. Which truth? The one where a killer reached out after seventeen years to tell me he murdered my fiancée? Or the truth that as a cop there might always be people—past, present, and future—willing to target my family to get to me?” He leaned back, his gaze vacant as he stared at the embossed tin ceiling tiles overhead. “Honestly, I never dreamed I’d ever have a family to worry about…”
The kettle whistled and she poured the water through the strainer into their mugs, releasing a soothing aroma. “Luka Jericho, lone wolf cop prowling the streets.”
He grimaced at her words. She returned to the table and took her seat, setting a mug before each of them.
“But now I’ve got Pops and Nate to worry about.” He sat up, raising his mug to inhale deeply and then take a sip. “Maybe I’ll wait before talking to Nate. Make sure I have not only the truth but also more than that—a plan, a way to move forward so he feels safe. Kid’s just so damned vulnerable right now. Those Homan kids and that Ms. Driscoll aren’t making things any easier.”
“I have a confession to make,” she said. “I went to the school. Was ready to give Ms. Driscoll a piece of my mind.”
“And?”
“I’m not sure how, but she put me in my place so fast, I felt like I was the kid.”
He nodded. “Right. I know the feeling. I barely got a word in edgewise.”
They sipped their tea in silence. Then Luka said, “You know, when the school first called, there was this jolt through my gut. I heard ‘bully’ and ‘Nate’ in the same sentence and my first instinct wasn’t to argue or disbelieve—it was disappointment.”
“Because you thought he might have done it?”
“Yes. No… Because I was afraid I’d already let him down. That if he had bullied someone it was because I hadn’t taught him better. And then I was angry. How could I have already given up on a kid—my sister’s own flesh and blood—as quickly as the rest of the world had. As if he were disposable, not worthy. So I rushed to the school determined to stand up for Nate—”
