didn’t reply.
“Dump the guilt trip. Your behavior was suspicious,” Zach said. “She was right about both men.”
“I was trying to do my job and keep her out of trouble. I’d think that would garner a little appreciation.” He sighed. “If you two are done interrogating me, I’ve got a mess of people at the ticket counter to sort through.”
Violet started to follow him.
“No, no,” Bill said, holding up a hand. “You go on home now. You’ve had a bad day and Liz is here to start her shift. Go get some rest.”
Vi watched him leave, a troubled crimp on her mouth.
“You believe him?” Zach asked.
“I’ve known them for a long time. His wife, Rory, has been sick—breast cancer—and she hasn’t responded well to treatments. He’s shouldered a lot of the load with his two boys. Maybe he really was preoccupied, trying to keep me out of it.” She broke off to look at Zach. “Do you trust him?”
“I’m not wired to trust people. Occupational hazard, but I do agree with him that you should go home. I’ll take you.”
She brushed back her hair with an impatient hand. “I don’t need a chaperone. I can take the bus home or call a car service.”
He braced himself for battle. “My car’s faster. I have a shiny red siren.”
“Your seats smell like a wet beagle, and you have a shift to finish. Go back to work.”
He folded his arms. “My vehicle was detailed yesterday, and Eddie has recently been bathed with special shampoo. He practically reeks with the scent of a spring meadow. I’m walking you to my car and driving you home. You don’t get to have a say in that, so grab your bag and let’s go.”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re pushy.”
“I’m right, as usual.”
Vi arched an eyebrow. “Pretty high-and-mighty for a guy who can’t ride a bike and breaks things on a regular basis.”
“I can ride a bike, I just don’t want to, and it’s been two whole days since I busted anything.”
“Uh-huh, but the last one at the diner was a doozy. You knocked over a wait stand and broke six dishes and a coffeepot.”
“Four. Your mother said it was four dishes.”
“My mother lied to make you feel better. I’m not as kind as she is.”
“Get your bag, Vi,” he said with a chuckle. He felt her staring at him. “What is it now?”
A gentle smile lit her face. “You laughed. I haven’t heard you laugh since...” The smile faded. “I mean...for weeks.”
He lifted a shoulder and grabbed for Eddie’s leash. Violet had always been able to make him laugh with that combination of edgy humor and intelligence, matching him tease for tease. He knew a lot of great women—pretty, smart, ambitious—dated many of them, but none like her. There was something just...better about her, which he could not pin down. Probably she seemed different because he’d known her since she was a gap-toothed first-grader. Still, Violet was irreplaceable and if he and God were on speaking terms, he’d say a prayer of thanks that she was unharmed. Anger bit hard at him.
He and God weren’t friends anymore. Zach deserved to encounter shipwrecks in his life, he’d probably caused most of them with his combination of impulsivity and stubbornness, but Jordy... God should have looked out for Jordy. No, he and God were no longer on speaking terms.
Shoving on his hat, he strode out of the room, grateful to have Vi clipping along in her pumps right next to him.
* * *
Violet kept her pace quick in spite of the twinges in her back and her throbbing cheekbone. She would not let Zach see her discomfort, especially the inner turmoil simmering below the surface like a monster fish ready to suck her under. She didn’t want to speak of her feelings, not the real, raw, deep-down ones. Not to Zach.
He has too much on his heart already. I can’t add to his burdens. Besides, they had their roles: he the jokester, overprotective big-brother type, and she the in-control, stand-up-to-anyone tough girl. She intended to keep it that way for both their sakes.
Bad enough that everyone was no doubt waiting at the diner, talking about what had happened. Her father would press for her to move into the cramped bedroom at the house in Rego Park where she’d grown up, but that would be going backward and she would not allow herself to give in to the fear. The airport attack was upsetting, traumatic, but it wasn’t going to derail her progress. Her college classes were starting up again in a matter of weeks, and this time she wasn’t going to take a break until she had that business degree firmly in her possession.
She was grateful that Zach did not seem to be in a talking mood as they exited the terminal and climbed on a shuttle. They made their way to the parking structure where Zach’s car occupied a reserved police spot. Inside the garage the gloom felt smothering, the acrid scent of gasoline and exhaust making her stomach flip over. Eddie shook his muzzle as if to clear away the barrage of odors.
The silence grew tedious as they stepped into the garage elevator. She noticed the steely look on Zach’s face. Claustrophobic, though he staunchly denied it. It brought her back to a day when the two of them, teenage rebels cutting school to go to the beach, had discovered a massive drainage pipe and stupidly gone in to explore. The deeper they’d gone into that cement tube, the sweatier and more panic-stricken Zach had become until she’d thought he was going to pass out. Grabbing his wrist, she’d led him from the pipe to a spot of sand where she’d held him around the shoulders until his breathing quieted.
“Sorry, Vi,” he’d said, mortified, forehead pressed to hers.
She’d squeezed his fingers, kissed him on the cheek, made a joke and never mentioned the incident again. It was her gift to him, a secret kept, a silent pact from two childhood friends. And he’d kept her secrets, too. In eighth grade Gil Fisher had stolen her journal from her locker. Violet wasn’t a writer, but inside were her sketches of the boys she’d had crushes on, complete with colored hearts around them. Gil was prepared to share her private drawings with every kid in the school until Zach got a hold of him. Whatever he’d said to Gil she would never know, but Gil had promptly handed back the journal and none of them had ever spoken of it. She wondered for the millionth time if Zach had seen the last picture in the journal, a picture she’d sketched of him.
As the elevator shuddered upward, the tight line of his jaw indicated that he was gritting out the ride. She wished she had the nerve to take his hand again and tell him she still understood, had his back through whatever would come. She yearned to comfort him about Jordy’s death. How the touch would comfort her, too, still the wobbling in her stomach and the trembling in her knees. But they had roles to play, didn’t they? Instead, she watched the buttons light the way to the third floor and stepped out next to him.
Violet sighed. “Satisfied? We made it to your car safe and sound. Box checked. The first part of your job is done.”
He frowned. “You’re not just a job, Vi.”
He didn’t look at her when he said it, and she
