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A pounding headache. Pounding at the door. Deborah didn’t know which was worse. She opened her eyes. She lay, still fully clothed, on her couch. The pounding increased to an earth-shattering crescendo.
“What? What?” She cringed at the sound of her own voice.
“Deborah. Open up.” Omar, her AA sponsor. Shame washed over her in sickening sync with her dry heaves. He would be so disappointed in her. She turned over and burrowed into the couch pillows.
“Deborah. Open this door. Now!”
She rolled over and sat up, then waited for the vertigo to subside. The smell of stale beer and smoke wafting from her clothes filled her nostrils. She threw a hand over her mouth as gorge rose in her throat.
“Deborah!”
“Okay! I’m coming.” She shuffled to the door and jerked it open. The brilliant morning sun pierced her to the bone, forcing her to throw a hand up to shade her eyes. The pounding in her head battered her even as a powerful thirst threatened to overcome her. She ran her tongue over cracked lips, trying to bury the craving. “What are you doing here?”
The sun shone on Omar’s shaved head. He looked more like an ex-con than a computer software specialist who was married to his laptop and drove a Lexus. “Chewing you out for not calling your AA sponsor last night.” He had the gravelly voice of a two-pack-a-day smoker even after eight years of smokeless sobriety. “Bringing you coffee and giving you a ride to church. It’s Sunday morning, in case you’re too hung over to remember.”
“Who called you?”
“Sergeant Martinez.” He handed her a tall brown cup. “Straight up, just the way you like it.”
Deborah groaned and smacked the open door with the palm of her free hand. “Wait until I see Luna. The rat. I’m gonna kick his butt.”
“Yeah.” Omar snorted. “Beat up the guy who saved you from drinking and driving and carted you home in the middle of the night. That’s the way to treat real friends. We’ll go to church, get some breakfast, and then go to a meeting. After that I’ll take you to get your truck.”
Deborah’s stomach lurched at the word breakfast and lurched a second time at the thought of facing her boss in the church parking lot. “I can’t go to a meeting. We’re trying to find a missing child.” She should’ve been focused on Benny last night instead of puking her guts out in her bathroom. She had to make it up to Daniel, find Benny for him. “I don’t have time for meetings.”
“According to Sergeant Martinez, you’re on medical leave.”
“Medical leave?” Deborah stuttered the words. “I was drunk, not sick. And it’s nobody’s business.” Not true. It was Daniel’s business. She had probably messed up any chance he had of getting back with Nicole.
“He’s worried about you, Deborah. When are you going to figure out that these people are your friends?” Omar fingered the tiny gold hoop in his earlobe as he glowered at her. She always disappointed the people around her. “Instead of grabbing a bottle when the going gets tough, grab me or one of your other friends.”
She would have to convince Sarge that she was fit for duty. He had to believe her. Deborah forced herself to meet Omar’s gaze. “Does Sarge—did he say anything else?”
“Your boss is a man of few words, but he sounded sick about the whole thing.” Omar’s tone softened a little. “You want to tell me about it?”
“No.” At least it was Sunday. The liquor stores were closed, and the bars wouldn’t open until after lunch.
“If you’re not going to tell me, you have to go back to the shrink tomorrow. Got it?”
Deborah had been seeing the department psychiatrist for more than six months. She had told the woman everything about her childhood, the molestation by her mother’s boyfriend, the alienation from her mother, everything—everything except about Daniel. “Got it.”
This time she managed to sound more confident. She’d go, for all the good it would do. The psychiatrist might be able to work miracles on her head, but Deborah hadn’t seen any signs that she could do anything for her heart.
“Are you going to let me in or make me stand out here while you change. You can’t go to church looking like that.”
The compassion in Omar’s eyes belied the irritation in his voice. Deborah took a breath and pulled the door open wider. “Come in.”
“Thank you.”
She still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that she had friends. If they knew what she had done to Daniel yesterday, would they still be her friends? She couldn’t be sure.
Daniel had sent Luna to look for her. He wasn’t mad? He should be mad. His foster child was missing and instead of helping find him, she was on medical leave. She’d let him down again. Instead of pickling herself with alcohol, she should have been looking for Benny. Daniel might forgive her, but how could God? One bad thing after another.I’m just bad God, bad. I’ll never be good enough.
Shuddering at the thought, Deborah splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom sink. As she squirted paste on her toothbrush, she practiced taking deep breaths and trying to smile. Why was she going to church? Because Samuel would never let her back on the team if she didn’t show she had the guts.
Besides, she’d rather confront Samuel at church, when his mood would be slightly more mellow—if you could use that word for Samuel’s clenched-jaw personality. She might have a chance—a small one—after the service.
Omar tried to make conversation on the short trip to the church, but Deborah could only focus on the impending confrontation with Samuel. At least Ray wouldn’t be there. He would be so disappointed in her. The closer they got to the church, the more she wanted to jump from the moving vehicle and run as far and as fast as she could.
