Merciless (Alexandria Novels 2) - Page 37

Micah raised a brow. “I was two then, and I have no memory of this woman. But it wouldn’t be a stretch to say my father had a mistress. He had many.”

“Would your mother have known Fay?” Malcolm asked.

Micah frowned. “Hard to tell what Mother knows and doesn’t know.”

“Would you be willing to visit her with us and ask her a few questions about the woman?”

“She’s refused my last six visits. And I doubt she’d speak to either of you. She would talk to Eva.”

Garrison’s jaw tightened, and a small muscle pulsed. “No.”

Micah smiled and shifted his gaze to Garrison. “How is Eva doing? I think about her a lot. I worry about her.”

Garrison looked relaxed, but Malcolm knew tension rippled through his partner’s limbs. “No need to worry.”

If Micah sensed the tension, he didn’t care. “You two are still together, I assume?”

Garrison grinned, a sign of danger. “So you won’t visit your mother with us?”

“It would be a waste of time.” Micah’s eyes narrowed barely a fraction.

“Do you have any papers, records, or diaries that might have belonged to your father? Something that might have referenced Fay?”

“My father burned all his personal papers before he died.” Micah shifted his attention back to Eva. “Is Eva still working at King’s? I’ve been meaning to visit her. She’s come so far. I hear she graduates in the spring.”

Garrison’s grin did not waver. “Have a nice day, Mr. Cross.”

“Can’t you answer a few simple questions about Eva? Deep connections run between us.”

For a split second, fury blazed in Garrison’s eyes. “No, they do not.”

I’ll meet you at King’s. Seven o’clock.

The text Olivia had sent Malcolm had been uncharacteristically brief.

Normally, Olivia sent chatty texts that highlighted tidbits from her day.

The kids had music today, and their winter-program songs sound great.

Had a faculty meeting at lunch … so boring.

After bus duty, I’m off to the gym.

But not today.

This text sounded like an order.

Malcolm had been back in town for three days, and he’d yet to see his girlfriend Olivia. They had spoken on the phone a couple of times, but with the Day investigation going full throttle, he’d not been able to break away. This terse text reminded him he owed her a meal and a visit.

When she’d chosen King’s he’d almost said no. They’d never eaten there as a couple. King’s was where he ate with cops. And until this moment he’d been careful to keep his personal and private lives separate. But she’d been complaining that he compartmentalized too much, so he’d said yes.

He had arrived on King Street a few minutes early, found a great parking spot, and realized he had time for a quick shower and shave. So he’d jogged across the street to the deco building and climbed the steps to his third-floor apartment.

He pulled off clothes as he crossed the large Spartan room, furnished with a huge couch and a wide-screen television. He jumped in the shower and ducked his head under the hot spray. It felt good to get the grime of the day off him.

Ten minutes later he had showered, changed into khakis and a dark turtleneck, and shrugged on his leather jacket over his brown leather gun holster.

He paused at the kitchen bar, flipped through his mail, and then glanced through the picture window toward King’s. There was a time when seeing Olivia sent a thrill of excitement through him. Not tonight. And that surprised him. He liked Olivia. She’d done nothing wrong.

“Fatigue,” he muttered.

He saw Olivia push through the front door of King’s.

Malcolm dashed down the steps and shoved through the pub’s front door just after seven. The place was packed, each table and booth filled with a variety of customers: tourists, squeezing in the last of the fall-season tours; folks who worked in the shops nearby; and a handful of cops.

Olivia had gotten a booth in the back. She raised her hand to catch his attention.

Smiling, he nodded and moved toward her, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. Her dark hair smelled of roses and crayons; her pale skin felt so soft to the touch. “You smell like an art project.”

She kissed him back. “Hazard of being a kindergarten teacher. We began our section on Halloween and the letter T today.”

He liked hearing about the kids in her classroom. He slid into the seat across from her. “So is that towheaded kid learning to stay in the classroom?”

“Andy. He and I drew a line across the threshold yesterday. We discussed that it’s the line he’s not supposed to cross.” Kindergarten had been Andy’s first experience with formal school. For the last few weeks he’d taken to running out of the classroom and down the hall when the mood struck.

Malcolm laughed. “And that worked?”

“He’s very proud of his line. In fact he showed it to his mom today.”

He traced circles on the table with his thumb. “I got to feel for the little guy. He’s got a lifetime of rules waiting for him.”

She feigned sadness. “Look who’s talking; the man who never met a rule he liked. You’re the worst for following rules.”

“I follow them.”

“When you make them.”

He shrugged, no hint of apology in his demeanor.

A waitress, a cool blonde with a perky face, arrived at the table and laid menus in front of them. “What can I start you folks off with?”

Malcolm sat back in the booth, dearly wishing he could order a beer and knowing he had too much work in front of him to allow the luxury. “Coffee.”

Olivia smiled. “White wine.”

“Mind if I go ahead and place my order? I’ve got to get back to work soon,” Malcolm said.

Olivia, ever calm, smiled. “Sure.”

“Number six,” he said without opening the menu. “Mustard on the side.”

Olivia glanced at the waitress. “Give me the same.”

“You don’t like red meat,” Malcolm said.

“Oh, well, that’s what I get for hurrying things along. Just a salad then.”

As Malcolm watched the waitress walk away he couldn’t help but scan the room for Angie. She came in here for dinner a lot. But not tonight. Disappointment tweaked.

“You must eat here more than I realized,” Olivia said.

“Food is good. And you know Garrison dates a gal that works here.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing this part of his life with her.

The

waitress reappeared and served Malcolm his coffee and Olivia her wine. He sipped, grateful to have something to do. A coworker had once told him he had ice water in his veins. He wished now that were so.

Olivia sipped her wine. “Look, Malcolm, I’m not one to beat around the bush.”

And he’d appreciated that about her. “Sounds ominous.”

“Not really. It’s time we talked.”

“About what?” Damn. The M-word.

She sat back in her seat, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It just seems like if we were really that close, we would talk more about what you do.”

“I like to keep you away from that kind of stuff. It’s not nice or pretty, and I don’t want that hanging between us.”

“But I don’t mind hearing your problems.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to talk about them.”

She stared at him as if trying to peel away his skull and peer into his brain. “Where do you see us going?”

He wished he’d ordered that beer now. “I see us together down the road.”

“‘Down the road.’ Is that code for, I see us getting married one day?” She enunciated each word, and he had the sense that she’d used the same tone with Andy when she’d drawn the line over the threshold.

He met her gaze. “I still haven’t thought that far.”

“Well, I have. I love you, Malcolm. I’ve told you that often enough. I know you’re not a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy, so I’ve not worried so much that you never say it back. But we’ve been together nine months. And I still remember the panic in your eyes when I mentioned marriage a couple of weeks ago.”

He arched a brow.

She pressed her palms on the table. “Nine months is long enough for me to know I want marriage, Malcolm. A family. A home. I want more than to just be your girlfriend.”

Tension rippled through his body. He did not want to have this conversation any more than he had wanted to have it the last time. “Your timing is really bad, Olivia.”

“I know. You’re on a case. But the fact is that you’re on a case most days. Cases are a fact of life for you. So now is as good a time as any.”

“What are you asking?”

Tags: Mary Burton Alexandria Novels Suspense
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