Page 80 of Noble Neighbor
Unfortunately, opening his email laid to waste to planning his future.
Rather, it plunged him straight into the past.
*
Five years ago …
“You joining us?”
Oliver looked across his desk at his captain, torn in two. Christie had a viewing after hours. A new client from out of town, she’d said at breakfast and asked him if he’d be home in time to watch Clement. Oliver didn’t like it when she had viewings in the evenings, but he had no valid reason to complain as his own working hours were erratic and long.
Besides, he knew the place she was talking about. She had taken him through it when she’d gotten the listing. It was in a quiet and safe neighborhood. She’d be fine.
And the arrests they’d made today were worth celebrating. It was the culmination of months of hard work. He deserved a celebratory drink with the team.
His wife never begrudged him the odd evening out,and she could easily find a sitter for Clement. Her parentslived a couple of streets away.
Oliver reached for the phone. “Let me make a call.”
“Ollie.” The deep sigh following her greeting almost had him changing his mind. Almost, but not quite. He looked at his fellow officers gathering jackets, getting ready to let their hair down, crack a pint or two.
“Christie … the guys …”
His partner leaned closer. “Be a sport, sweet-cheeks,” Louis yelled. “Give Oliver a break tonight. We did good today.”
“You made your arrests?” Christie asked.
“We did.”
“Then go, Ollie. Celebrate. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” He didn’t like the hesitancy in her voice.
One by one, his team filed out the door, his partner beckoning. He wanted to go, could almost taste the smooth chill of the draft sliding down his throat.
“Go,” she urged again.
“I owe you one, Chris-Chris.”
Christie chuckled. “I see a spa day in my future.”
“As many as you want. Thanks, babe. Go get yourself a sale and call me when you’re done. I’ll meet you at home, and we can have our own celebration,” he promised, ending the call.
*
“Hi, babe. You done?” Instead of hearing his wife’svoice when he answered her call, a sob reached Oliver’sears. “Christie?”
“D-daddy …” Another sob.
“Clemmie. What’s wrong?” Icy dread snaked up his spine, and Oliver stood, sending his chair toppling, drawing the attention of those sitting around him.
“T-the man … H-he hurt M-mommy. S-she … Daddy! M-mommy’s not moving.”
No. No. No.
“Son.” He swallowed down the rising bile. “Clement.Where are you? You and Mommy?”
Clement was crying now, but through his sobs, Oliverunderstood Clem had gone with Christie to the viewing. He turned to Louis and rattled off the address, trusting his partner to contact dispatch and request help.
