There was more commotion then, the sound of several pairs of feet coming up the stairs to Pop’s, but when I turned back to the door, Calvin opened it as if he were expecting visitors. Pop didn’t budge from my side even as his place was soon filled with our two friendly detectives, a few uniformed officers, and an inspector with the FDNY whose name I didn’t pay attention to. He looked kind of like Santa, though.
“Mr. Snow,” Santa stated, looking directly at me.
“Huh?”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
I nodded. At least, I think I did. I was so out of it and so fucking tired.
“Can you tell me where you were when the explosion went off?” Santa started.
“In the stairwell, I think.”
“And prior to that, did you smell smoke? Gas?”
I don’t remember smelling anything.
I realized I hadn’t said that out loud when Calvin was standing at my other side once more and lightly touching my shoulder. “Seb,” he prodded.
“Oh. N-No. No, I don’t remember a smell.”
“Did you see any suspicious individuals in the building?” one of the uniformed officers tried. “Or outside when you came home?”
I shook my head. “No. The building just—” I shrugged and raised my hands, as if that motion would explain it for me.
The interview was apparently over soon after that. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I had no answers, no insights to help them. I could barely recall the entire incident myself. Calvin must have sensed that and known I was entirely useless. He talked with the officers while ushering them to the door, and I noticed too late that Quinn had gone as well.
Pop was standing then. “Is there anything else we can do tonight?”
“No,” Calvin said.
I turned to look at Calvin and got to my feet. He still had his coat on, standing near the door, and his posture made him look uncomfortable. “Don’t leave.”
He hesitated.
“Pop, he can stay, right?”
“Of course he can.”
Calvin’s rigid stance eased. “Thank you.” He slid his coat off. Always polite. Waiting for permission.
Pop moved away from the couch and went toward his bedroom. “I’ll make my bed up.”
“Dad, I’m not taking your bed. I can sleep on the couch,” I insisted, walking toward the kitchen and Calvin.
“Are you sure, kiddo?”
“Age before beauty.”
Pop cracked a smile. “I’ll get some extra pillows and blankets, then.”
When he had vanished into the dimly lit room, arms slid around me and Calvin pressed against my body. I turned in his embrace and pressed my forehead against his shoulder.
He had pulled himself together pretty quick after the moment we’d both had. But that was Calvin. He always bounced back fast, especially since he had to be seen as a commanding officer when Santa and his helpers were here.
Calvin let out a long breath and tugged his fingers lightly through my hair. “I promise you, I’m going to find who did this.”
“I believe you.”
