Five

Michael could hear them talking quietly on the porch, their voices barely above a whisper, but he didn’t need to listen. He discerned everything he needed to know the moment he recognized Leon Maddox through that sun-beaten windshield.

Sabrina was leaving.

He’d known it would happen—that she’d leave him eventually. He’d known, even if she hadn’t. He’d called them all orphans, but that was a lie. She had a family. People who loved and needed her. A life—a real life. One he never had a place in. One he couldn’t compete with. He knew that. Understood it. Accepted it, even. But accepting it didn’t make it any easier right at this moment.

He dragged the broom across the wood, carefully catching shards of glass and bits of congealed cheese sandwich in its bristles. He extended the handle, reaching underneath the converted larder to make sure he picked up everything he’d broke. Inside the cabinet, loose bullets rattled and rolled across its bottom. He’d have to reorganize it after the kids went to bed. He didn’t like them to watch him handle guns unless it was absolutely necessary.

The creak of the porch steps brought his head up and he watched as Maddox and Sabrina stepped down into the yard, heading for the river. Most men would’ve fixed that step to stop its creaking by now, but not him. The back step leading to his home creaked on purpose. So he’d be able to hear someone approaching the back door. Someone who meant to kill them. It would give away their position so he could kill them first.

That’s the kind of life he had to offer her.

He stooped, carefully sweeping the pile of debris on the floor into the waiting dustpan before dumping it in the trash. He stood there longer than he should’ve watching Sabrina and the old man stroll along the water. For a moment, he was able to convince himself the message he’d brought was a good one. That Val and her cop husband had had another baby. That Sabrina’s old partner, Strickland, had gotten married. That her old Homicide captain, the one who hated her, had been hit by a bus.

“She’s leaving us, isn’t she?”

He turned to see Christina standing in the doorway. She looked the same way he felt. Powerless. Resigned.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He moved toward the pantry to store the broom and dustpan. “I hope not,” he said, looking at her for a moment.

“You’re lying.” She cast her glance farther out the window to where Sabrina stood talking with Maddox near the hood of his truck.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he said, hanging the broom and dustpan from their respective hooks before closing the pantry door. Come to think of it, Christina was the only person in his life he hadn’t lied to at some point or another.

“No,” she said, her tone hard and quiet. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“I promised you a long time ago that I would never lie to you. I don’t plan on starting now.” He closed the closet door and turned toward her. “How do you feel about pancakes for dinner?”

Instead of answering she rushed him, throwing her arms around his waist to bury her face in his shirt. “I don’t want her to leave, Michael.” She looked up at him, her chin digging into his sternum. “Don’t let her.”

He passed a hand over her dark hair and shook his head. She’d lost so much because of him. Her mother. Her father. And now this. Another loss he was powerless to stop.

He wanted to lie to her. Tell her he’d do as she asked. Make her believe he had the power to make Sabrina stay. Instead, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders, gripping them before setting her away.

“What if her family needs her?” he said, hunkering down to look her in the eye. It was his worst nightmare—that Sabrina’s association with him could bring her family to harm. “Maybe her brother or her sister is in trouble. Maybe she’s the only one who can help them.”

“I don’t care. She chose us.” Christina set her jaw and glared up at him. “She doesn’t get to take it back.”

“I wish it were that easy … but if we love her—really love her—then we should want her to do the right thing, even if that thing hurts us.” He dropped his hands away from her shoulders and straightened his stance to look down at her. “That’s who she is. She’s the person who does the right thing, no matter what. It’s one of the reasons we love her so much.”

Behind him, he could hear the engine in Maddox’s truck turn over and catch, rumbling to life under its worn hood. The porch step creaked a moment before the screen door wheezed on its hinges. “Go play with Alex,” he said to Christina, his tone telling her there was no room for argument.

“I want chocolate chips in my pancakes,” she said, a small act of defiance before she turned and stomped from the room, each footfall so heavy the dishes in the larder’s matching hutch rattled with every step. Sabrina was a purist. She hated chocolate chips in her pancakes.

“I’m not going.”

He turned to find Sabrina standing just inside the kitchen, her back pressed against the doorframe. The manila envelope was in her hand, unopened.

Behind her he could see Maddox’s tailgate bumping across the bridge. He had the insane urge to blow it up. To kill the old man for what he’d done. For taking her away from him.

She took a step toward him, moving to the side so she could shut the door, blocking his view of the truck’s retreat. Like she could read his mind. Like she could see murder on his face. She tossed the envelope onto the counter like it didn’t matter.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m not—”

“Christina wants chocolate chips in her pancakes.” He moved toward the refrigerator, pulling it open to retrieve eggs and butter. It was still too early to make dinner, but he needed to move. Needed to do something so he didn’t grab her and lock her away to make her stay. “Any objections?”

Her mouth closed and she shook her head. “No. Chocolate chips are fine.” She dug her hands into the front pockets of her cargos—a sure sign he was making her nervous. That she had more to say but was keeping it to herself because she knew he didn’t want to hear it. Not yet anyway.

He watched her hands for a moment, the way they twisted in her pockets, before turning away from her. It’s funny how people who love each other pick up one another’s habits. He wondered how long it would take her to break his after she was gone.