Julie Miller – Kansas City Christmas (страница 3)
“Coming to grips with the loss of yet another person you love.” Laced with a gentle understanding he didn’t deserve, the touch of her hand against his jaw was almost painful. “You were busy getting sober.”
For a moment, his eyes locked onto hers. “How…?”
Her pale mouth curved into a smile. “Your clothes smell clean. You trimmed that ratty beard. Your beautiful eyes are clear.”
“So I’m a bum who ignored my own mother in her time of need.” He turned away from her forgiving touch and intuitive gaze. “And you think
She brushed her fingers across his jaw again, ignoring his sardonic tone. “Your father would be so proud of you today.”
He could pull away from the gentle touch, ignore the kind words. But the sheen of tears pooling in her eyes and spilling over did him in. Edward caught the first tear with the pad of his thumb and wiped the trail of sorrow from her cheek. “Mom…I…What are we supposed to do? Just because I’m the oldest doesn’t mean I can make sense of any of this. I can’t make this right.”
“But you can make it better. You
“In a way, I can see one good thing about the girls not being here—I don’t know how I’d explain losing Dad to Melinda. She loved her granddaddy so much. I’m not eight and I wasn’t born with Down’s syndrome. And I
“They were crazy about each other, weren’t they? John always called Melinda his little angel.” Susan Kincaid leaned her cheek into Edward’s hand. “I hadn’t remembered that. That’s a comfort to know they’ll be together again.” Wishing he had a handkerchief, Edward brushed away the new fall of tears. “Oh, Edward. I miss him so much.”
Several minutes passed before her sobbing sounds became erratic sniffles and then softened into steadier, more even breaths. His shirtfront was damp and streaked with her makeup as she finally pulled away. Her face became lined with a frown of confusion as her fingers probed the front waistband of his slacks. “You’re not wearing your badge.”
His KCPD badge was locked in a metal box with his guns, gathering dust on the back shelf of his closet until he could decide if he would ever be ready to be a cop again. But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Kincaids were cops. The call to protect and serve was in their blood. That call had taken everything Edward loved. Today wasn’t the day to explain his guilt, however. A logical excuse would serve well enough. “I’ve been on leave since a year ago Christmas.”
Confusion briefly morphed into maternal concern. “Your doctor cleared you to go back on duty, right?”
“If I tended to my physical therapy the way I’m supposed to, then yeah, the doc says I could build up my strength and pass the physical. But I just don’t think I can…” He squeezed his fist around the brass carving on his cane. The stick of heavy walnut had become a mental crutch as much as an aid for the physical pain that would never completely leave his rebuilt joints. Images of Cara’s golden hair and Melinda’s effervescent smile blipped through his mind. His last mental snapshot of his family had seen that golden hair matted with blood and his daughter’s face lying pale and expressionless against the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget. But the task proved impossible, and he jerked his eyes open at his mother’s gentle touch on his face.
“Shh.” Susan Kincaid stroked his cheek and hair as though he was her little boy again, and she could soothe his hurts away with a maternal magic that somehow managed to salvage some pride while still making him feel better. Though this was no skinned knee they were dealing with today. “I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. I have plenty enough to worry about on my plate. Your brothers are set on investigating your father’s murder themselves.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Sixteen months ago, he’d have been leading the pack to find the killer himself. “Don’t worry about them, Mom. The department has protocols in place. They won’t be able to play any official role in the case.”
She arched one eyebrow as she pulled her hand away. “It’s their
Edward nodded. “You want me to talk some sense into them? I don’t know that they’ll listen to me.”
“They’ll listen. They look up to you, son. They trust your wisdom about the world.”
“Mom, I—”
“Shh.” She pressed her fingers against his mouth, refusing to hear his protest. Right. He was the leader of the family now. Man, were they screwed. “Just…remind them to keep their wits about them. And to watch their backs.”
His eyes settled on a strand of gray hair that had fallen over her cheek. The gray hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her. The woman who’d been the Rock of Gibraltar for them throughout their lives was more vulnerable, more fragile than Edward had ever imagined. An inevitable sense of resignation—that call to duty that he’d tried to drink into a coma—awoke inside him. It was grouchy and unsure—and maybe even a bit afraid to take on the world again—but his mother’s need had reawakened it.
Reaching out, Edward brushed the gray hair off her cheek and tucked it beneath the rich dark hair at her temple. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll help them however I can.”
She blinked away another bout of tears and nodded her thanks. “And one more thing?” Why not? “I don’t have your father’s badge.”
Edward tried to follow her unexpected tangent. Had it been buried with him? Did she want it back? Or had it simply been misplaced? “Where is it?” She shrugged. Okay. Not misplaced. “I’m sure the commissioner would issue a memorial copy—”
“No. You don’t understand.” Susan tugged at the front of Edward’s coat, then quickly smoothed it back into place. “I want the badge he carried with him as a detective and deputy commissioner for all these years. It was never recovered from the crime scene. I don’t know if it was lost during the struggle in the park when they kidnapped him from his morning run, or if one of those murderers kept it as some kind of souvenir.”
Edward reached for his cane, certain that she was asking the wrong son for this favor. “Like I said, I haven’t been a cop for a while. Sawyer or Atticus could—”
“Edward. Please.” Her brown eyes darkened with her plea.
A muscle twitched beneath the scar on his jaw. He’d barely gotten himself to the cemetery. He’d already agreed to talking some cautionary sense into his brothers. He wasn’t equipped to ask questions or search for clues or go anywhere near a police investigation—not when the consequences for getting involved were so high.
“I can’t have the man I love anymore. But he was truly one of Kansas City’s finest for thirty-six years. He left the military and became a police officer the year I found out I was pregnant with you. That badge represents the best years of our lives together. All that he did for this city, the man he was, the sons we raised. It represents so much more than just his job to me. Does that make any sense?”
He’d packed away everything that represented his wife and child when he’d lost them. But one thing he’d taken to heart from those first few sessions with his trauma counselor—every person grieved in his or her own way. While he wanted to erase every painful reminder of loss from his life, his mother wanted to cling to the memories. Edward understood what she was asking of him. He understood that he was asking it of himself as well, though he couldn’t be sure how he was going to make it happen, or when, or what it might cost him.
“I want your father’s badge. If it takes two days or two years or forever to track it down, I want it back.”
“Okay.” That single word hurt—down deep in his soul. Even though this assignment was an unofficial one, he was going to be a cop again.
“Okay? You’ll do that for me?”
Edward wasn’t in any kind of shape to be making promises to anybody. But he made this one to his mother.
“I’ll do it.”
With eight months of hard-fought sobriety inside him to filter his thoughts, Edward managed to keep a wiseacre response to himself as the teen with the bright smile behind the cash register chirped, “Merry Christmas!” and handed him his bags of groceries.
“Thank you for shopping with us, sir,” the girl went on, either genuinely caught up in the goodwill of the season or intent in her desire to impress her supervisor. Said supervisor, sporting a bit more weariness to his frozen smile, was pacing the bustling check-out lines, ensuring every customer had a positive shopping experience and would return to buy holiday turkeys and hams and whatever last-minute presents they might need in the upcoming two weeks.