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“Need you…do me a favor,” Thomas whispered.
“Anything. Name it.”
“Take care of Kennedy for me. She’s going to take it hard.” He swallowed and added, “And our little girl. Please…take care of her.”
His eyes stinging, Nick said, “I promise, Thomas. I’ll take care of both of them.”
“You’re a good man.” A small smile lifted his mouth. “Despite what your ex-girlfriends say.”
Nick forced a laugh. “Always joking.”
His eyes opened wider, and Thomas said softly, “Tell Kennedy…” He drew in a rattling breath. “Tell her…best…thing…ever happened to me. Love her...” His eyes closed, and then he opened them even wider. Grabbing Nick’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip, he rasped, “Don’t let them hurt—”
The hand on Nick’s arm went slack, and Thomas gave a final gasp.
“Thomas!” Nick shouted.
“Back away.”
Nick
jumped out of the way and watched as the two EMTs worked frantically. When one of them said, “It’s no use,” Nick yelled, “What do you mean it’s no use? Do something. He’s a healthy man. He’s got a wife…a kid on the way. Do something!”
“I’m sorry…he’s gone.”
Nick looked blankly over at Lewis Grimes. “What happened?”
Grief filled his eyes as he muttered, “Robbery. Thomas tried to stop it.” He gestured to a black body bag. “At least he got the little bastard.”
The whistle of the kettle drew Nick back to the present. Feeling like he’d aged a hundred years in the last hour, Nick prepared the tea and headed to the living room. Kennedy sat on the sofa, staring into space. Julie was talking softly to her, but he doubted any of the words penetrated.
He’d seen this reaction dozens of times. Had been there himself. First, there was the denial. The push back against a truth so horrific, your mind refused to acknowledge its existence. Then came the inevitable numbing shock. That was actually a welcoming place. Everything went on shutdown. You didn’t think about the agony ripping at your heart. There was no knowledge of reality. You didn’t think, period. You breathed in and out. You swallowed, occasionally nodded at the soft murmurings around you, even though you didn’t comprehend the words. You just existed.
Nick had been eighteen years old when he had experienced that pain firsthand. His mother had been driving home from work, and some drugged-out bastard had decided to do a little target practice. Eight people had been shot. His mother had been one of three who’d died.
He had been home, cooking dinner, when the doorbell rang. Unaware that his life was about to be completely changed, he’d casually opened the door and faced two policemen. He still remembered their words, their solemn expressions…the sympathy in their eyes. He remembered the bellowing cries of their next-door neighbor, his mother’s best friend. He even remembered the dog across the street that barked incessantly at all the cars and people who’d showed up a few minutes later. Those kinds of details—innocuous and unimportant—were ingrained in his memory.
Years later, even when the pain had dimmed, Nick knew Kennedy would remember these odd, unimportant moments, too. They lingered like small dark clouds. Not necessarily painful but just little reminders of life in all its messed-up glory.
He held the hot tea in front of Kennedy, wrapping both of her hands around the mug until she had a good grip. Assured she did, he dropped into a chair across from her and watched her carefully. Soon, the shock would wear off, and the truth would hit her once more. Only this time the pain would be harder to bear, because denial was no longer something to fall back on.
An ache developed in his chest as he watched her struggle to hold it together. He’d been a homicide detective for two years now, delivered news of a loved one’s death to countless families. Though he’d always felt a measure of sympathy for them, he had always been able to hold himself apart. But there was no way in hell to separate himself from this tragedy. His best friend was gone.
Thomas had asked him to take care of Kennedy, and though it was something he would have done in the first place, the vow he’d made held extra weight. Nick would do whatever it took…give her whatever she needed, no matter what. From now on, Kennedy and her baby were his responsibilities. Whatever anyone said about him, no one could dispute that he took care of his own. And that’s what Kennedy was now. His.
* * *
