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A mother’s love for her child is like
nothing else in the world.
It knows no law, no pity.
It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly
all that stands in its path.
Agatha Christie
Em slid her key into the lock and twisted it slowly while holding the handle firm. It was late, after one in the morning, and she hoped not to wake anyone. If she did, they’d discuss the shooting all night, and both she and Becky needed their beauty sleep. Otherwise Em would be a royal bitch-on-wheels in the morning.
She eased the door open and noticed the kitchen light was on. As she slipped through the doorway, she observed Francine sitting on the couch, primed and ready for bear.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded in a strident voice which shot up Em’s spine. “You involve my daughter in a shooting, and then shove her away rather than protecting her?”
Em closed the door behind her as she faced her distraught sister-in-law. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“Hell, getting shot is part of your job. You’re trained for it. I never signed up for someone shooting my daughter, or you offering her as a target instead of you.”
“That’s not qui—”
“Mom, be fair.” Becky sat up, rubbing her eyes. She’d been asleep until her mother’s tirade disturbed the whole apartment. “She saved my life! If she hadn’t acted, I might be dead.”
Francine’s anger wasn’t assuaged. “And what about your gun? Are you carrying it now? It isn’t safe keeping a sixteen-year-old girl in a house with firearms.”
Em held her hand up, forestalling more shouting as she sank into her couch. “First, they took my gun to conduct forensic tests. Secondly, I have a gun safe just for that purpose.”
Francine shot her the dreaded mother’s all-knowing eye, raising one brow. “You’re saying you don’t have another in the apartment, or that you’re not ‘packing’ now?”
Em blushed. Seeing her response, Becky slapped her forehead and moaned.
“I ... uh, they gave me another,” Em admitted, lifting the flap of her jacket revealing her shoulder holster.”
“Pray tell, is that gun locked in your gun cabinet?”
Em’s blush crept down to her chest, causing a burning sensation to radiate all the way to the pit of her stomach. “Uh..., I just walked in the door. I haven’t had a chance to put it away.”
“And you’re telling me your gun is secured every second of every day?”
Em sat up straighter, returning Francine’s glare. “This is what I do. I’m required to carry a gun. I’m trained, familiar and cautious with firearms.” She took a breath, considering another way to explain herself. “If I was a contractor I’d have wrenches and hammers. If I were a doctor, I’d have a prescription pad. Just because I work with tools doesn’t mean they’re a threat.”
Francine’s eyes narrowed. “And when you bring an impressionable young girl into your house, do you leave your wrenches out in the open, or do you lock them in your precious gun cabinet?”
“Uh ... I keep it within easy reach because I never know when I’ll be called out on a case. But I’ve never allowed Becky in my bedroom and the gun safe is locked anytime I’m not in the house.”
“So you trust a curious sixteen-year-old not to sneak into your room to see what she can discover while you’re away? Have you ever lived with young girls, or have you lived like a man so long you’ve forgotten what being a girl is like?”
“Mom!” Becky cautioned, but her plea fell on deaf ears.
“If I’d realized you were so cavalier about guns and death, I’d never have brought Becky into this environment.”
The bedroom door opened and Lucy peered out, her hair uncombed and a frizzy mess. “Are you OK?”
Francine, not wanting her fury sidetracked, held her palm open fending off Lucy’s inquiry. Em straightened, squaring her shoulders and cocking her head to the side. “Really? Didn’t I suggest staying with someone better able to entertain a child? Didn’t I mention I was out at all hours and couldn’t spend time with you? What was it you said? Oh, yeah, something about how you ‘only trusted me to keep you safe against the dangers of the world?’”
Caught in a trap of her own making, Francine glanced down. “I didn’t know about the gun.”
“What, you thought I was a traffic cop, only keeping a whistle and some traffic cones in my bedroom? You force your way into the life of a homicide detective and don’t expect them to handle difficult situations?”
“Mom, she made sure I was safe. She insisted I leave only so I wouldn’t be questioned by the police.”
“That’s not what you said before,” Francine said, her words coming out strained, one by one.
“I couldn’t tell her to avoid the police in front of witnesses,” Em said.
Having determined Becky wasn’t merely covering for her aunt, her remark rekindled the flames of Francine’s righteous indignation.
“Heaven forbid your boss should learn you endangered the life of your own niece.”
Em leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as her hands drew to her hips. “You think it’s better Becky’s name gets listed on the official police reports of the incident. Reports which—in case you forgot—are public documents. Don’t forget the news crews who showed up. Wouldn’t they love the story of a female detective defending her innocent niece? How easy would that make your life? Her father wouldn’t have any trouble tracking her down if we shout her location on the cover of every newspaper in the country. What would you do to protect her then? Find the house of some little old lady terrified of guns? What would she do if Jeremy broke down her door, demanding you return or the police drag you back home?”
Francine’s anger evaporated like an early dawn’s fog under the onslaught of morning sunlight.
Lucy entered the room, holding her thin robe closed. “Em, don’t say anything you can’t take back.”
“Mom, you brought this on. Auntie Em did everything right. She didn’t plan on someone shooting her.”
The reminder her daughter’s life was threatened was the wrong thing to say. It tossed fresh kindling on the smoldering embers of her anger. Francine’s head snapped back up.
“And why is some crazy coot gunning for you? What the hell did you do to him that he’s trying to kill you? Sleep with his bag lady girlfriend on a park bench?”
“Ladies, please.” Lucy knelt beside Em, wrapping her arms around her.
A quiet knock on the door surprised them, but neither Em nor Francine dropped their competing glares. Their eyes were locked in a fierce embrace. Becky scrambled up, running to answer the door, dragging her bed sheets behind her.
“That’s a low blow,” Em whispered in a voice as cold as a harsh artic wind. “He was put up to it, taken advantage of by whoever is behind the crime I’m investigating. It was an assassination attempt, pure and simple.”
“Oh, and that makes it safe to expose Becky to? Maybe we can teach her an object lesson about the trustworthiness of bums on Manhattan streets?”
“Sorry, but I could hear you all the way from my apartment.” Amanda slipped in the door, trying not to attract attention. She kept her voice pitched low, attempting to minimize the noise and calm the combatants, though it didn’t lessen the volume of the argument. “I figured you might need help holding these two down, keeping them from ripping each other’s throats out.”
“Or she could learn about taking advantage of relatives, ingratitude, or possibly finding somewhere else to live at two o’clock in the morning?”
“I think we can use the assistance,” Becky said, leading Amanda into the apartment. “I’ll tackle my mother, but I think it’ll take more than the two of you to wrestle Auntie Em to the ground.”
“That’s a terrific idea. I’m sure Becky and I will be safer on a park bench than around you!”
“Ladies, I think we’re getting a little carried away.” Lucy continued stroking Em’s side, speaking in a soft, soothing voice.
Francine turned on her. “Screw you! Big surprise, the tart-of-the-week defends the chick cheating on her. As if I’d take any advice from you!”
“MOM!” Becky shouted. “Stop it. If I wanted to see this kind of fight, I’d have stayed home. At least Dad only hit me in the privacy of our home, rather than shouting so loud everyone on the floor can hear.”
Becky’s outburst seemed to calm them both. With their mutually escalating tirades defused, Lucy led Em to the corner, whispering soothing words while Amanda sat beside Francine, suggesting she take deep calming breaths.
“I’ll breathe easier when my daughter’s life isn’t threatened,” Francine hissed. Her voice was soft, but it was directed at Em, who stiffened.
“Who’d like something to drink?” Becky offered. “How about we open a bottle of wine? It might relax you.”
“NO!” Amanda and Lucy both shouted.
“OK, OK. How about some hot chocolate?”
“That’s better,” Lucy said, focusing on settling Em before she shot someone else.
Soon Amanda was leading Francine in breathing exercises while Lucy walked Em in circles, getting her anger out on the floor instead of her sister-in-law’s face. Becky brought out two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Neither woman could bear to refuse her peace offering, though they wouldn’t meet the others’ eyes in anything other than a cold stare.
“Now that we’re calming down, could we speak a little more civilly?” Amanda proposed.
Lucy cuddled her lover in her arms as she turned to pace in the other direction. “Em, without getting into the details of the scene outside, what happened afterwards? Are you off the case?”
Em halted her frantic pacing and sighed. “No. Normally I’d hand it off to someone else while sitting behind a desk for two weeks. Mike insisted I remain actively involved in the investigation.”
“Wait? You’re calling the police commissioner by his first name?” Amanda glanced from Lucy to Em. “How long has this been going on? What have I missed? She wasn’t sleeping with his wife while he watched, was she?”
Lucy shot her a look, but Francine jumped in. “Yeah, why don’t you explain why you’re so essential to this case you can’t be excused when someone tries to kill you. They know where you live. They can just wait outside the door and shoot whoever exits the apartment.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Em insisted, her voice a carefully controlled whisper.
“No? What, you asked and they gave you their assurances? According to you, you haven’t identified the suspects yet.”
“Oh, no, she didn’t,” Becky said, moving the mugs before someone threw one.
“All right, let’s try again.” Lucy smoothed Em’s hair, kissing her cheek. She kissed her thumb and held it in front of Em’s face. “Blow on this.”
Em’s head jerked back. “What?”
“Just do it. Amanda suggested it. It works.”
Em looked at Amanda and shrugged, leaning forward and blowing on Lucy’s thumb. Everyone held their breath and Em tilted her head.
“I do feel better.”
Amanda smiled. “No one understands why, but it’s a common tool for panic attacks. Something about how the brain functions causes you to calm when you exhale. That’s why drinking hot tea or chocolate works so well. It isn’t the steam, it’s blowing on it to cool it.”
“Sometimes it works,” Becky corrected her, returning the cups to their previous positions. “You should try it, Mom.”
Francine looked skeptically at her daughter, but when Amanda licked her finger and held it in front of her, she leaned in and blew. As she did, Amanda drew her target away, forcing her to lean farther forward. By the time she finished, her breathing resumed its normal rate, something the deep breathing techniques failed at.
“How do you learn that?” Becky asked.
Amanda shrugged, rolling her shoulders. “My career is stressful. Whenever I start getting crazy, I blow on my finger and it calms me enough to walk away.”
“And you couldn’t do it when Auntie Em first walked in the door?” Becky’s pleading tone caused everyone to smile. As they saw the ice melting, first Lucy, Em and finally Francine giggled. Soon they were all laughing.
Em leaned over her cup and blew on it. “Damn, that actually works, doesn’t it?”
“Watch the language, missy,” Francine said, raising her brow.
“Please, Mom. With everything said this evening, that’s the last thing you should be concerned with.”
Lucy attempted to get back on topic, steering the conversation in a different direction while addressing Em’s concerns. “So you’re off the hook?”
Em sighed again. “No. There’s the traditional investigation which will drag on for a couple weeks. The investigators tried to interrogate Benjamin, but Mike called Doug in so he could conduct the interview privately. I’m forbidden from interfering, though I gave him a rundown on everything I learned from him.”
“Benjamin?”
“The shooter. He’s schizophrenic. Someone offered him thousands to take a shot at me. If it wasn’t for Becky hugging me, you’d all be at my wake.”
“Really?” Becky asked, more intrigued than alarmed. “You mean, instead of you saving me, I saved you?”
“You got that right. If I hadn’t leaned over to hug you, my brai—yeah, you saved my life alright.” Em crossed the room, wrapped her arms around her niece and kissed her before picking her up and twirling her around. Becky’s laughs echoed in the small apartment.
“Hey, mind the furniture,” Lucy teased.
“So you haven’t discovered who’s behind it?” Becky asked when her Aunt returned her to the floor.
“Still no clue. We keep getting tantalizingly close, but so far, everyone is tight lipped. Benjamin is more than willing to talk, but doesn’t know anything. Even if he did, they chose him because no judge or jury would take his word for it.”
“Should we be looking for a new place to live?” Francine’s voice was soft, low key and spoken with concern rather than accusation. “A safe-house, maybe?”
Em shook her head. “We can’t. If I tell them you’re here, we’re all in a world of hurt. The NYPD couldn’t ignore the information and they’d report it to your hometown police who’d tell Jeremy. Instead we have to tough it out. I can still try to find someone else to take you. After all, you’d probably be safer without me around.”
“You could take my apartment.” Lucy winked at the others. “That would give me the excuse to move in.”
“I’d rather not,” Becky stated emphatically.
Francine thought about it for a second. “Despite still being angry, neither do I. While this is dangerous, so’s the alternative. It’s either jump into the fire or stay in the frying pan.”
“Good.” Amanda rubbed her hands together. “Now, please tell me all the hot gossip about you and this commissioner. What do you have on him?”
Em grinned, leaned back, and prepared to spend the rest of the night talking.
