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I help her out of the car, her eyes flinching in the bright, fall daylight. We climb up the porch, and I unlock the door as Derek’s car door slams behind him. Ivan, I’ve noticed, has parked further down the street, remaining around but out of sight. I jostle the door open, and the rank scent of trash hits my nose.
I shake my head. This is going to be a long afternoon.
* * *
After a few hours,I managed to get my mom showered and changed into fresh, clean clothes. I started a load of laundry from the overflowing basket and put away fresh towels. My mom was able to eat a few crackers and down a bottle of water before I let her crash into bed. She is sleeping now, and I’ve finally gathered the strength to tackle the kitchen.
Derek has been sitting at the table, doing some work, and keeping me company. It’s strange—him going out of his way to offer a hand. He isn’t an awful person, but we didn’t have that type of relationship. He’s seen more of my messed up life than I’ve ever let him see before. I don’t know if that’s because I’m no longer ashamed or because I don’t care what he thinks.
“Is she sleeping all right?” Derek perks up from his spot at the table, watching me clear away the trash. Wine boxes and bottles line the kitchen counters, and the dishes are piled in the sink.
“Yes, I think she is going to be okay. I thought she was going to therapy, I got her to go to therapy, but something must have triggered her. She’d been making progress.” My thoughts flick to Antonio and I can’t help but wonder if she has spoken to him.
“That’s good, hopefully she will continue to go and keep getting better,” he says and smiles.
I glance around the kitchen. It was not this way the last time I was here. It was clean and organized, the fridge full of food, and the home inviting. This is what happens when the high of a new relationship ends. I grab a few wine bottles, intent on throwing them in the garage recycling, when my eye catches the label.
“That’s odd.” I pause, setting it down and pulling out my phone.
No messages from Luka.
I pull up the search and type in the name of the wine. An eerie apprehension washes over me as I read the results.
“What?” Derek stands, coming over to me.
“This is a $500 bottle of Italian wine.” My heart picks up speed in my chest. “She can’t afford this.”
Derek examines the label and then inspects some of the other bottles lined there.
“Huh. Maybe she had a friend or boyfriend bring it over.”
That’s exactly my worry.
* * *
“Doyou still like being at the Nineteenth Precinct?” I sip my cup of coffee and glance around the small Lake Mead coffee shop. Old town photos and license plates make up most of the decor at this place, but it’s my go-to when I’m in here.
After Derek helped me clean up the kitchen and take the trash out, he convinced me to come out for ‘stress relief’ nighttime coffee, as he called it. Ivan was not happy, but he followed us while maintaining his distance.
Honestly, I was grateful to get out of the house. I had it cleaned, and I left a note on the counter with the police paperwork. I let her know who to call when she got up and explained I loved her too much to leave any alcohol in the house. I also told her she needed to see the therapist immediately. I was finally comfortable enough to leave and hadn’t realized how hungry and thirsty I was until the smell of coffee beans alerted me.
“I do. The guys are great, and I enjoy the job.” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink before he continues. “You know, I was pretty worried about you when they couldn’t find you; I guess I didn’t understand how emotionally draining this all must be. I hate to say it, but I realize now.”
He reaches across the table, his thumb coming to stroke my hand. An odd sensation rushes through me, and I pull my hand back, an embarrassed smile crossing my face.
“I appreciate all your help today, Derek. For calling me and giving me the opportunity to come help her. You have no idea how wonderful you, Dale, and George were.”
I don’t want to come across as ungrateful, because they were all beyond helpful, and it was nice not to be alone.
“Kate, anything for you.”
Dread pools low in my belly, and my sip of coffee turns bitter. This is wrong. Being here with him feels—wrong. I don’t understand it; this wasn’t anything more than coffee, but it’s not him who I want to be here with. It’s—
“Kate.” Luka’s deep timbre booms at my side, and I startle, lifting my head to his voice.
It’s Luka.
Chapter38
