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“Severe case of a nasty strain of the flu.” She smoothed his sheets and fluffed his pillow. “I’m surprised. You always get your flu shot—you hate missing work.”
“You make that sound like a character defect.” Another wave of anger added to his lightheadedness. “Some people think being a hard worker is an attribute.”
“It is. It’s one of the things we have in common.” She plucked at the sheet again. “Look, Daniel, I don’t want to argue, I just want you to get better.”
“How are the kids?”
“Worried about you.”
“Chris wants to come live with me.”
“Daniel—”
“I know. It’s impossible. As it is, Benny spends most of his time at Lily’s or with Marco. I’m not there enough for him. But Chris was so upset with you.” Daniel stopped, each breath causing his chest to hurt. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to make it happen if you plan to continue to see that man.”
“It’s not like you make it sound. Joshua just stopped by to make sure I was all right after the wedding.”
Daniel coughed. “Another man in my house, checking on my wife. Did you tell him I abuse you or something?”
“Of course not. And it’s my house. We just talked.”
“You kissed him, Nicole. Coworkers don’t kiss. Did he spend the night?”
She gasped. “You’re intentionally trying to hurt me now because I hurt you.” Nicole backed away from the bed, her face set in angry lines. “Not that it’s any of your business, we haven’t even had a date yet.”
“It is my business. You’re still married to me. Chris should live with me.” Daniel’s anger raged as hot as his fever. “I could get a housekeeper. Get a bigger apartment. For when we get Benny home. We’re gonna get him home and they would be like real brothers.”
He began coughing again. “I’m going to be sick.”
Nicole grabbed a disposable container from the bed stand and thrust it at him.
“Get away from me.” He desperately wanted her to stay, but it would only hurt in the long run, when she left him for good. “Just get out! Get out!”
“Daniel, stop. You’re making it worse.” She pushed him back against the pillows. “You shouldn’t get excited. You need to rest. We can talk about this later.”
“I don’t need you here. I have family here.”
She turned and rushed to the door. He vomited into the tray. “By the way.” His voice sounded harsh and raspy in his ears. “By the way, I quit my job. I meant to tell you at the counseling session. I quit my job.”
She stopped, her hand on the door, but she didn’t turn around. A second later, she slammed through the door. It swung shut behind her.
Chapter Twenty-three
Kim Glover handed a tall tumbler of lemonade to Cooper and then turned to Alex with a second glass. He sipped and let the cold liquid slide down a parched throat. He could barely hear the foster mother’s offer of homemade brownies over the noise emanating from the hallway of a house that looked as rumbled as its owner. It sounded like several children were playing a rousing game of Hokey Pokey. How had Nina Chavez fit into this noisy, homey environment, apparently very different from the one she’d been born into?
He set the glass on the corner of a coffee table covered by folded laundry and got down to business. “What can you tell us about Nina Chavez?”
“Nina was one of our easy-to-handle foster children, but she wasn’t here long enough for me to establish a real bond. Only about a month, I think. Sweet little thing, afraid of her own shadow.” Sadness blurred Mrs. Glover’s chubby features. “I always wondered what became of her. Did something happen to her?”
It would be nice to avoid answering that question. Alex glanced at Cooper, whose lifted eyebrows saidbe my guest. “Were you afraid something would happen if she went back home?” He was ninety-nine percent sure the little girl in the grave was Nina Chavez. Sweet little thing, afraid of her own shadow, and dead. “Did you see signs of physical abuse?”
Mrs. Glover shoved aside a doll and a stuffed rabbit so she could sit down on the love seat across from them. She had a smudge of flour on her cheek and the house smelled like cinnamon rolls baking. “You always wonder, Detective. These children are in the system for a reason. CPS doesn’t take kids out of the home on a whim.”
“You have a lot of experienced with CPS and foster children?’
“My husband Fred and I have been foster parents for almost twenty years,” she said with an expressive shrug. “We know all the games biological parents play. We know the whole gamut of ways they inflict pain—physical and emotional—on kids.”
“What specifically—”
