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She was a good cop. She could do this.
T he beaten mother was gone by the time Ramsey made it back to the office. Kim was nowhere to be seen, either. Ramsey sat down to write up his suicide from the day before while he ate the cold fried-chicken sandwich he’d bought from the shop downstairs.
Even stale, it was better than the nothing he’d brought from home that morning.
As if on cue—because he was eating bad—his cell phone rang and his father’s number appeared on the screen. His first instinct, to push the end-call button and send Earl Miller to voice mail, almost saved him.
“Yeah, Dad, what’s up?” He answered the call just before it switched over.
“You busy, son? I waited until lunchtime, hoping I wouldn’t be interrupting a meeting or something, but I know that when you’re on a case time of day means nothing.”
Ramsey bit into his sandwich. Chewing just to be stubborn in response to the voice inside of him that was telling him that he shouldn’t eat that stuff.
“I’ve got a minute,” Ramsey said. “What’s up?”
“Thanksgiving’s next week.”
The last swallow of his sandwich stuck in his throat. “I know.”
His father always asked. He never nagged.
Or pushed.
“We’d really like for you to come home and celebrate it with us.”
His mother must be getting worse. Did Earl think this might be her last Thanksgiving with them?
Heart racing, Ramsey tried to corral his thoughts. His mother was losing her mind. Not her physical health. She wasn’t even seventy yet. And she’d always been healthy.
“I can’t, Dad.”
“I told your mother that’s what you’d say. But think about it, would you, Ramsey? It’s really important. To both of us.”
“I have a wedding to go to that weekend.” Until that moment, he’d been dreading the event. Partially because he wasn’t sure he could spend any more personal time with Lucy Hayes without her figuring out how much she turned him on.
“A wedding?” Earl’s tone changed. “Anyone we know?”
“No. A…victim’s sister is getting married. She invited me and another cop.”
“Did you get the guy?”
He blinked, fighting against the knot in his chest. If someth
ing was wrong with his mother…
“What guy?”
“The one who victimized the sister of the girl getting married.”
An image of Jack Colton flashed in his mind’s eye. As far as his father knew, the “guy” could have been a “girl.” “Not yet, but I’m closing in on him. Hopefully I’ll be able to wrap it up this next week.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Saturday.” Time enough between Thanksgiving dinner and the wedding to make it back from Vienna. “But I’m on call Thanksgiving Day,” he said. He’d volunteered. Just like he did for every other holiday. Everyone else, including Kim, had family to be with over the holidays. “Holidays seem to make crazy people crazier,” he said, and then wished he hadn’t. They made his mother worse, too, but she wasn’t crazy. And he didn’t want Earl to think he thought so.
There was a pause on the line. Ramsey could make out the distinct tones of his mother’s voice, but he couldn’t make out the words. Then Earl said, “How about the week after Thanksgiving? Can you get away then?”
“What’s wrong, Dad? Is Mom sick?”
