“He kind of already did,” Elena answered.
Lincoln dragged the chain out from under his collar, the braided silver rings heavy on the end. Before leaving Apex, Carter had insisted Lincoln hold them for safekeeping until he returned from his assignment. “We pretended to be married for our cover.”
“Liked it, did you?”
“I really did.” More than liked arguing with Carter every morning, flirting with him, kissing him, working with him. And Lincoln thought Carter would work well with the rest of his family too. “I think you’d like him. All of you. That’s the scary part.”
“You just put away a serial killer known as Dr. Fear,” Gabby said. “How scary can this be?”
Elena wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing. “I want you to be happy, Dad.”
Trina hugged him from the other side, her smile soft and warm, encouraging. “We all do. When’s he back in town?”
“Soon. He was wrapping up last we texted.”
“Hold a second,” Gabby said, fingers flying over keys in the background. “He lands at DCA at ten tonight.”
Tonight. Carter would be home tonight.
“Do you need his home address?”
“No, he gave me a key before we left Ap— Wait, how did you?—”
“Don’t ask, babe.”
“We’re on board,” Trina said. “The question is, are you?”
He didn’t have to think about his answer. “Yes.”
Elena squeezed him tighter, Trina clapped, and Gabby’s full, warm laugh echoed over the phone. “Good,” she said, “Now, go get your man.”
Lincoln celebrated with them, so lucky to have these three incredible women in his life. Now, if he could just be lucky in love tonight, his life and the celebration would be complete.
Carter unlocked the metal screen door of his Logan Circle townhome and winced as it creaked open. Flight delayed out of SFO, it was past one in the morning here. The neighbors were no doubt cursing him for making a late-night racket. Probably were before tonight for his failure to keep up the place, but he’d been gone so much this winter, his arm had been broken, and now spring was just around the corner. At least he was out of the cast and sling; he could assess the state of things in the daylight tomorrow.
He inserted his key into the main door and pushed it open, thankfully without further sound effects. He shut it behind him, tossed his duffel down the stairs toward the lower-level bedroom, and reached for the light switch.
The lights came on, before his fingers touched the switch.
His hand shot to his side and he cursed, reminded his weapon was still in its flight case in his bag. He opened his mouth to shout, neighbors be damned, and inhaled the aromas of fresh-baked biscuits and burning wood. He willed down the blood rushing in his ears and listened, detecting the crackle of a fire and then music notes.
The opening bars of Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe,” followed by the beautiful lyrics in a much-missed voice floated down the stairs.
Stairs that were covered in pictures.
Carter toed off his boots, left them in the foyer with his laptop bag, and approached the first step. And the first picture. Of a middle-aged couple, the woman with dark curly hair stuck to her sweaty face, the man with green eyes and brown hair sprinkled with gray in a hospital gown beside her, both of them smiling huge. Between them, a baby slept, wrapped in blue blankets, a patch of dark curls matted on his head. Carter patted down his curls and moved to the next step.
The same woman in a dress, the man in a suit, wearing a yarmulke, and the same baby in their arms with a light blue yarmulke to match, the Star of David stitched in dark blue, the tiny cap nestled in a thicker patch of dark curls.
The next step up. The couple standing beside a packed full car, Good Luck, Sun Devils, in shaving cream on the back window. They were dressed casually, jeans and Arizona State T-shirts, smiling, the baby in their arms in a Sun Devils jumper, his eyes open, green, like his father.
My father. And mother. Me and my family.
As the stairs continued up, there were more pictures. Yearbook photos, class rosters, work applications, ASU staff photos. Other candids from the school and local newspapers.
And on the top step, a small laminated card. A replica of a birth certificate.
Jacob Farb, born January 2, 1988, in Tempe, Arizona, to Arial and Hannah Farb. Carter picked up the card as Lincoln finished the song. “This is me,” he said.
