His mother was the first to be informed of what had happened. Realizing that she had been instrumental in his death, Annie was never the same. Neither were Zane and his younger brothers. All three of them had a love-hate relationship with their mother that went unchanged until the day she died—a little more than a year ago.
Because of that, because of what his mother had caused to happen and then never attempted to rescind, Zane had trouble trusting women—all women—and was particularly distrustful of reports of domestic abuse. It was far too easy to wield an accusation as a weapon and gain favor with a sympathetic presiding judge.
As he turned to knock on the next door, Zane became aware that the petite blonde had left the shelter of her apartment and was not just out in the hall, but standing right next to him. So close that he could actually smell her perfume. It slipped in and out of his consciousness like a seductive whisper.
That was all he needed, a distracting sidekick. “Afraid you’re going to miss some of the show?” he asked her.
She should have brought a sweater with her to prevent getting frostbite. The officer’s tone was that cold. What was his problem?
“I accused him, I should be able to face him,” she answered, attempting to approximate the same tone that Calloway had used.
She didn’t quite achieve it. Friendliness was more her byword. Cold hostility didn’t begin to enter the bargain. She thought of Harry beating his wife, secure in the feeling that no one would challenge him and the coldness came, belatedly.
“Why don’t you just wait in your apartment?” Zane suggested crisply. “If there’s anything to tell, I’ll fill you in when it’s over.”
When it was over, he’d leave, she thought, fairly confident that she’d pegged the officer’s mode of operation. He was the type to only keep the promises he deemed worthy of being kept.
She made no effort to budge. “Doing it my way saves you an extra step,” she answered with a bright, broad, forced smile on her lips.
Just then, the door to 5F opened in response to Zane’s knock. A slightly rumpled Harry McBride stood in the doorway wearing only pajama bottoms. He looked from the officer to her, an affable, slightly puzzled expression on his face. She’d never seen anyone appear so bemused and seemingly innocent before.
The man’d had practice, Alyx realized. Which made him diabolical.
“Hello.” Harry nodded at Alyx, then looked back to the policeman. “Is there something I can help you with, Officer—?”
“Calloway,” Zane told him, filling in the blank. “There’s been a report of a domestic disturbance taking place in your apartment.”
Harry seemed properly chagrined. “My fault,” he admitted freely. “I’ve got a tendency to get a little carried away when I get excited about something I’m talking about. I don’t realize how loud I can get sometimes.” He deliberately looked at her and said with a sheepish, apologetic smile, “If I disturbed you, I am really sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again,” he promised solemnly.
Alyx didn’t believe him. Not for a moment. Didn’t believe a word of Harry’s charmingly recited explanation or his promise to her. He was just going through the motions to get rid of the policeman. She’d bet her life on it.
“Would you mind if we spoke to your wife?” Zane requested.
Harry hesitated, seemingly concerned. “Abby’s had rather a hard day and she just now managed to drop off to sleep, but if you feel that it’s necessary to talk to her, I can wake her up for you.” With that, Harry turned on his heel, ready to go off to the bedroom and wake up his wife to accommodate the police.
Zane stopped the man before he went to his bedroom.
“No, that’s all right. Let your wife sleep. Just remember to try to rein in your ‘enthusiasm’ next time,” he cautioned the man. His business over, he saw no reason to put the other man out any further. “Have a good night, Mr. McBride. What’s left of it,” he added with a side glance toward Alyx.
With that, he turned away from the apartment.
“Good night,” Harry echoed behind him, shutting the door.
“And that’s it?” Alyx demanded, hissing the words at Calloway as the police officer began to walk away.
He stopped and deliberately pinned her with a less than charitable eye. “Unless you can think of something else.”
It was clear by his tone that he didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of any further input from her. His job here was done. He had a cold beer waiting for him in the refrigerator and he wanted to get to it.
“Unless I can think of something else?” Alyx echoed, staring at him in disbelief. “Yes, I can think of something else. How about talking to his wife? How about looking at his wife? One bruise one time means that she’s being clumsy. More bruises means that she’s someone’s idea of a punching bag. Women like that need to be helped, to be guided. Because after a while, they start to think that they deserve it.”
“Letting your imagination run away with you a little, aren’t you?” Zane asked.
Still out in the hallway, he cocked his head to listen. “Well, it looks to me like the battling factions have decided to call it a night.”
“They weren’t battling factions,” Alyx corrected tersely. “Battling factions would indicate that there were two sides. From the sound of it, Harry was the only one getting in his licks. All his wife was doing was whimpering pathetically like some wounded, frightened animal.”
Another woman “crying wolf.” She was wasting his time and he was tired. “Uh huh. Well, I don’t hear anything now. Look at it this way, maybe you scared him into acting responsibly.”
By the sarcasm in his voice, she knew the policeman didn’t believe that—and neither did she. Harry McBride was a bully who would continue being a bully as long as he felt that no one would challenge him and he could get away with it.
About to leave, Zane hesitated for a moment. It was always good to cover your tail. His father had taught him that while he was still on the force, still part of his life. There were times when he couldn’t help wondering how much more he would have been able to learn from his father had his father not cut his life so short.
Digging into his shirt pocket, Zane took out his business card. Handing it to the feisty, obviously dissatisfied blonde, he said purely for form sake, “If they start up again, call me.”
Did that mean he finally believed her, or was he just humoring her in an effort to make a quick getaway with a clear conscience?
In either case, she intended on taking him up on what he’d just proposed.
Closing her fingers over the business card, Alyx raised her eyes to his. “I’ll do that,” she promised, her voice even.
Zane barely managed to suppress a world-weary sigh. “I’m sure that you will, Miss Pulaski.”
“Doctor,” Alyx corrected the cocky police officer. He raised a quizzical brow, so she elaborated, “It’s Dr. Pulaski.”
