so young anymore.”
“Thirty-three is not old.”
“Dad, I’m thirty-five now.”
“You are?”
“Oh, stop teasing. It isn’t funny.”
“I’m sorry. But I had to see if you could muster up a smile. You know, you’re still our baby.”
She sighed and squeezed his arm and watched Charley tugging on Sally’s hand as they all passed a shoe store and a B. Daltons, his four-year-old nose leading them straight to the food court.
Everything seemed surreal to Grace when they found a table and Sally went to get pizzas and Cokes. The last time Grace and Charley had been here was over the long December break from her classes at CU. The mall had been so crowded, Christmas shoppers everywhere, and Charley had been delighted at the carolers and beautiful displays of decorated trees and huge candy canes and reindeer and elves and snowmen. He’d ridden on the big Wonderland train set up in the middle of the mall, and he’d sat on Santa’s lap and been so brave. Bob had taken a whole roll of film, and Sally had sent Grace and Charley copies in January. They’d been so happy.
Grace ate her pizza and looked at Charley and her parents and recalled that Bob and Sally had not always been so pleased about her foray into foster motherhood. Of course they had wanted her to marry and have children of her own. Five years ago, before Charley had even been born, she had dated an associate professor at CU, and Sally had pressed and pressed over the phone.
“Are you two serious? Do you think it’s in the realm of possibility that you might marry? He’s such a nice man, Grace, an old-fashioned gentleman.”
Yes, Grace had thought, he had been very nice. Shy and reserved and terribly proper. And boring. At 10:00 p.m. he watched the news and at 10:20 he always went to sleep. At 6:05 a.m. he got up. At 6:15 he showered. At 6:20…
But that was water under the bridge, and at least she had learned something about herself—she’d never be able to make a life with a man who lived by the clock. Even for plain-Jane Grace, he’d been too dull.
And then Charley had come along. A gift. A miracle. She’d taken him on summer break to meet her very skeptical parents, who’d so much wanted a grandchild of their own flesh and blood. And then they’d seen Charley. Watched him crawl, giggling and drooling around the kitchen and backyard; gotten to know all his baby vocabulary, seen the sun twinkle on his curls, and they’d fallen in love. Just as she had.
And now…
“Gramma likes ice cream, don’t you, Gramma?” Charley was saying, pizza smeared on his cheek and chin.
“Actually,” Sally said, catching Grace’s disapproving eye, “I really really like chocolate chip cookies.”
“His teeth are going to rot out of his head,” Grace admonished. She’d never allowed him so many sweets.
But Charley, clever little Charley, piped up. “I promise I’ll brush all my teeth—” he pronounced it teef “—extra special tonight. I promise.”
Sally bit her lip and got teary.
Bob shook his head sadly. “Goddamn courts,” he muttered.
“Bob.” Sally collected herself and stood up. “Come on, Charley,” she said, taking his tiny hand, “we’ll go find those cookies. I can smell them from here. Can you smell them?”
“Oh, yes, Gramma, I sure can.”
When they were gone, Grace looking protectively after her baby, Bob covered her hand with his. “I’ve got a plan,” he said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
Grace snapped to attention. “Dad, I can’t let you get involved. I just need some advice.”
“I won’t be involved—well, not too involved—and believe me, I’ll be covering my tail all the way.”
“It’s asking too much.”
“Look, I’ve called a friend. He—”
“Who? Who’ve you called?”
“If you’ll just let me finish?”
“I thought you weren’t going to get involved. I—”
“I made a call. That’s hardly a crime.”
“Still…”
“His name is Luke Sarkov. Do you remember him? I helped him out when he got in some trouble. Long time ago.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, you were pretty young, and he didn’t come over to the house much. The point is, I got him on the force, and we’ve kept in touch over the years.”
“He’s a policeman? But then how can he…?”
“He’s not on the force anymore. But he’s a top-notch investigator. Best there is. He can help you.”
Not on the force anymore, she thought, and she wondered why this man had left the police. Was he old enough to be retired? “Dad, I don’t know.”
“Trust me on this.” Bob leaned closer. “You need to get something on Kerry Pope, right?”
“Yes. That would go a long way toward showing the court that…”
But Bob was shaking his head. “You don’t want to just show the court Kerry’s past history, which they already damn well know. You want something definitive on her, something horrific.”
“But, Dad, what if…? I mean, that’s all fine, but as you said, the court knows her history. And maybe she can hold herself together for a time now. And if that’s the case…”
“Honey, honey,” Bob said, “you’re out of your element here, okay? I just want you to put your faith in this man. He was a good, tough cop, as smart and streetwise as they come.”
Was a good cop? “Is this Luke, ah, Sarkov retired, too?”
“Listen,” Bob put in, “none of that matters. What counts is that he’s the man for this job.” He held her gaze. “Will you please trust me on this?”
“Of course I trust you, Dad. My God, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I…”
“Sh,” Bob said. “We’re your parents, Grace. We’ll do what it takes to protect you, to ensure your happiness. You should know that.”
Like I’m doing for Charley, she thought once more.
Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “This is for you. It can’t be traced, okay?”
“Okay.” She looked it over and nodded. “Okay. Good idea.”
“And we’re going to switch cars this afternoon.”
“But…”
