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“Yeah, I got that,” Shaun says, miffed.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, using my elbows to prop myself up in bed. “I’ll call first thing in the morning and reschedule. I had a crazy day at work today. I can’t believe it slipped my mind.” It’s then when I notice a white binder in his hands.
“I’m on light duty,” I explain. “Digby assigned me to look into a cold case.”
Shaun flips on the overhead light. I squint at the harsh brightness that showcases the network of purple veins that lie just below the surface of the skin of my swollen breasts and taut belly. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and reach for my clothes. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my pregnant body. I’m not, but it’s foreign to me, nearly unrecognizable.
“This is about Eve Knox,” Shaun says. He’s still dressed in his dirt-stained work clothes, but his hands are spotless, fingernails scrubbed clean. He smells like fresh-mown grass.
“And?” I say, playing dumb.
“And, do you think it’s a good idea for you to be looking into your best friend’s murder?”
I knew that Shaun would have these concerns. Shaun never knew Eve. He was older than us, ran with a different crowd but he knew she was my best friend.
“It can’t be good for the baby,” Shaun says again, knowing this is his best argument. I slip my shirt on but leave my pants next to me. It will take too much effort to thread my legs through them.
“Have you seen these pictures?” he asks.
“You shouldn’t have opened it,” I tell him and hold out my hand so he can help hoist me to my feet. With a groan I stand and reach for the binder and he places it across my palms.
“I didn’t know what it was at first,” he says. “Jesus, Maggie, if I could go back and unsee them, I would. It’s bad.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought them home,” I tell him. I’ve seen dead bodies before and Shaun hasn’t, should never have to. “You go ahead and shower first.”
“But you knew her.” Shaun begins to shed his clothes. “How can you look at the dead body of someone you knew?” He turns on the shower and the bathroom begins to fill with steam. I don’t know how he can stand it on such a hot day.
“It’s my job,” I say simply.
“I don’t think you should do it,” Shaun says again as he steps into the shower, submerging his head beneath the stream of water. His insistence surprises me. Shaun isn’t new to this rodeo. He knows what I do for a living. I was a cop when we met and started dating. The fact that I’m pregnant shouldn’t make a difference.
“Turn that handle to the left a few notches and I’ll join you in there,” I say as I once again remove my shirt and the rest of my clothes. Shaun turns the knob and as the water cools I step in next to him. Close quarters for two people and the beach ball between us.
“I just don’t want you to be stressed out,” he says, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear but what he really is saying is, We have to keep the baby safe. We can’t let anything bad happen to this one.
“The fastest way to stress me out is to tell me not to be stressed,” I say as anxiety rises in my chest. “Everything is going to be fine.” I, more than anyone, know this isn’t necessarily true.
Shaun nuzzles my neck. “If it gets to be too much just promise me you’ll stop. You’ll just walk away.”
“I promise,” I say to appease him, but I know I won’t be able to walk away.
An hour and a half later, Shaun is sleeping and I’m wide-awake sitting on the family room couch with Eve’s files in front of me and the TV playing softly in the background. I start reading again.
There are interviews with the librarian at the public library and the shop owners on Grinnell Avenue who saw Eve the afternoon of the twenty-second. They all reported that Eve was looking for her sister and that she seemed distracted but not upset. Nola was always running off, getting into some kind of trouble.
A familiar image pops up on the television screen. There I am in all my pregnant glory talking to the camera. The chyron at the bottom of the screen reads, New Evidence Discovered in Twenty-Five-Year-Old Murder Case of Grotto Teen.
“Oh, Jesus,” I say out loud. “Here we go.”
The house phone begins to ring and I rush to get to it before the sound wakes Shaun. “Hello,” I answer breathlessly. No response on the other end. I hang up and before I sit down, it rings again. I lift the receiver. “Hello?” I say and again nothing. Irritated, I lower the receiver and go back to the sofa. My abdomen contracts, a brief squeeze and release, the baby’s way of telling me it’s time for bed. Not just yet, I tell her. Before I can sit down the phone rings again. “Yeah,” I say when I answer, in no mood for this nonsense. This time a voice on the other end responds.
“Home wrecker,” comes a harsh whisper. “You should be ashamed of yourself, sinner.”
“You must have the wrong number,” I say. “Don’t call again.” I move to hang up the phone when the voice speaks again.
“This is the right number,” the voice hisses. “You’ll pay for what you did.” It’s impossible to tell if the person on the other end is male or female but they’re clearly angry.
“You’re threatening a cop,” I say. “Don’t call back.” I hang up again and this time I leave the phone off the hook. I don’t have time for stupid, random prank calls. I flip off the television and return to the files.
