Court shrugged. “He was a cop. He died.”
“What kind of cop was he?”
“He was a good cop, as far as I know.”
“Ya see? Some family…the bloodlines, they’re not all bad. Some are soft.Mostare soft. Good. You and me. We’re from the hard lines. The thorny leaves in the family tree is what we are. We can’t help it. We can’t change it. We can wish it weren’t so, but you, me, Charlie, my da. His da. We’re part of the hard line.”
Court took this all in, then said, “But why would your grandson be one of us? Maybe he’ll be a florist. A cop, a doctor.”
“Dunno that he would be like us. Dunno that he wouldn’t. All I can do for him, all I caneverdo in his whole life, is right now, stoppin’ any chance he goes after the bloke that took his da from him.
“I’ve a bloody righteous mission, mate. And the man with the most righteous mission, nine times out of ten, is the man who’s gonna win.”
“Win?You’re not going to win, Coyle. Whatever happens to me, you’re working for some people who aren’t just going to let you walk away when you’re done.”
“I’m thinking you’re right, mate. But I’ve made peace with that. I help my grandson stay off the hard line, and then everything that comes after will be what it will be.”
“Well then,” Court said. “I’ll see you out there. In the meantime…go fuck yourself.”
He hung up the phone, feeling angry and depressed and tired.
He climbed to his feet and headed into his cabin to get some sleep.
Forty-One
A steady, icy rain pelted the Noble Park neighborhood of Boulder, Colorado; the spray that kicked up from the all-season tires of the white F-150 had just settled back on the parking lot as Zack Hightower opened the door of his truck and rushed through the precipitation, entering Cara’s Bakehouse just after nine a.m.
His heart pounded. It felt like the world was falling apart right now; he’d dealt with so much danger and discord in the past couple of days, but somehow the opportunity of seeing his daughter again had his heart in his throat in ways that pitched battles on city streets in Washington, D.C., did not.
She was here this morning; he saw her as soon as he came through the door, her hair pulled back and her black sweatshirt, cut off at the neck, and baggy jeans billowing around her green apron like she’d stolen the clothes of a grown man. She had a line of people at her register and he joined them, did his best to glance left and right, even pretending to check his phone from time to time as he waited, working like mad to make himself appear like a normal human, when right now, he was anything but.
He listened to her voice as she talked to the customers and the other employees behind the counter; she laughed a couple of times, and Zack himself fought a smile.
His MRI was at ten a.m., and his doctor’s appointment directly after.The imaging center was a thirty-minute drive from here in traffic, so he was glad the line moved quickly, and then, with the same slight quiver in his knees he’d felt every other time he’d been in the presence of Stacy Hightower, aka Andrea Delaney, he made it to the counter.
Andie smiled when she saw him, then flashed a quick clandestine look to her right, in the direction of Cara, who was across the room stocking a shelf with bottled water. Zack read it as if Andie were a little worried that the proprietor of the store was going to see him, and equally worried about what Cara might say or do when she did.
“Morning,” Andie said. “What can I get you?”
He’d been gone four days; he hadn’t expected her to remember his order, but when he started to speak, she said, “The usual?”
“Uh, the usual. Exactly.”
“Cheese Danish, unheated, coffee, cream and sugar.”
“You got it.” He loosened a little. “How’s your day goin’?”
As she rang him up, she said, “Busy but awesome.” With a wide grin, she said, “I’m off at ten thirty, then I’m going snowboarding at Eldora Mountain.”
Zack had no idea where that was, and he’d never been on a snowboard in his life, but he found himself pleased that she was pleased.
He looked back over his shoulder, past the long line and towards the windows. “In this weather?” he asked.
She made a face as if it didn’t matter. “Nah, this’ll turn to snow any minute. Going down to the twenties. Gonna be some sick ice up there on the slopes.”
“Sick ice,” he said softly. Then, “Outstanding.”
He watched her pour his coffee and get his Danish, and he chastised himself for being so fucking proud of her.
