Val left work at 6:00 p.m., a mere hour after the official end of her shift. That made it the earliest she’d slipped away in the last two months. Despite the long days worked by everyone on the WAVE Squad over the summer, multiple sexual assault and rape cases had piled up unsolved. The usual pattern for these types of cases had reared its ugly head: Women declined to testify against their attackers—too often, boyfriends or family members. Cases got thrown out for lack of evidence. Dangerous perps pled down to trivial, lesser charges. Too many others sitting in the backlog, making the overtime hours expected, if not compulsory.
But she’d made plans for the evening with her lifelong best friend, Beth. Their relationship had grown strained in recent months, and they hadn’t hung out together since Beth almost became the victim of a serial killer back in April. Almost five months. Val swallowed a lump rising in her throat. The two of them hadn’t suffered a dry spell like that since junior high. They needed to break that pattern. Hence, drinks tonight.
The Clay Pigeon, where they’d arranged to meet, was a ten-minute walk from Clayton Police Headquarters. The Pigeon, Clayton’s oldest bar, opened minutes after Prohibition ended—or a decade before that, if one believed local folklore. According to legend, the town’s criminal organizations congregated there in the 1920s with corrupt politicians and cops on the take, cutting deals to decide who lived, died, suffered, and prospered. In recent years, The Pigeon evolved into a thriving meet market for hip twenty- and thirty-somethings, vying to see and be seen. Beth frequented the place enough to know the manager, the wait staff, and even some of the cooks on a first-name basis.
Val arrived a few minutes before their appointed time. As expected, she found Beth already ensconced at an outdoor table against a black metal rail that separated the establishment from the sidewalk. Beth sipped what looked like a mojito from a cocktail glass. A glass of red wine sat ready for Val at her seat. Beth stood when Val reached the table and embraced her, holding on for an unusually long time. “So good to see you, girlfriend,” she said, patting Val’s back. “I’ve missed you.”
“You, too.” Val squeezed her tight. “I can’t believe we didn’t make it to the beach together even once this summer. First time ever?”
Beth released her from the embrace and sat down, not making eye contact. Her sleeveless blouse revealed a deep tan that suggested she’d made it to the coast without Val more than twice. The blonde highlights in her long, brown hair seemed more prevalent, not a single strand out of place. “God, I’m so thirsty,” she said. She downed the contents of a sweaty water glass in front of her, then held it up and called to the server. “Troy?”
The server, a fit, blond guy in a form-fitting T-shirt bearing the cartoon image of a sassy, tuxedo-clad pigeon, scooted over with a frosty pitcher for a refill. “Another Nojito for you?”
“Just the water, for now.” Beth turned to Val. “I ordered us some apps already.”
Val wondered if she’d heard the server correctly, but Beth continued on before she could ask. “Your hair’s getting long, for you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it past your jawline.”
Val nodded, pushing her straight, light-brown locks away from her face. “I’m overdue for a haircut. You look terrific, as always. Your skin’s practically glowing.”
Beth laughed. “That’s from sweat. We should’ve sat inside for the air conditioning.” She fanned herself and glanced around. “What are you looking at?” she said to a guy at the next table, who jerked his gaze away from Beth’s chest.
Val smirked. Beth’s top, a low-cut V-neck, showed ample cleavage. Perhaps because of the sexy top—Beth referred to them as her “hunting clothes”—she looked even more voluptuous than usual this evening.
“How about you?” Beth said to Val. “You look amazing, as always. Still working out?”
“The usual. Running three or four times a week and keeping up with the jiu-jitsu. The gym, when Gil can join me. But that man and his high-calorie meals! I’m going to be enormous if this keeps up.” Val grinned. “Well, you always said I needed to beef up a little.”
Beth laughed. “He cooks, too? Damn, you found a good one. Lucky girl.”
“That I did,” Val said. “How about you? Still playing the field, or have you settled on a regular boy toy for a while?”
Beth’s breath caught, and she swirled the ice in her otherwise empty cocktail glass. “Funny you should ask.” She signaled Troy again for another refill.
“Why ‘funny’? Wait, have you gotten back together with Josh?” Beth broke off her engagement with Josh back in April, to Val’s great relief. Josh, in Val’s opinion, wasn’t good enough for her.
“How did you—? Valorie Dawes, I swear, you’re lucky you don’t live in Salem. They’d burn your ass at the stake for witchcraft.”
Val laughed and covered her mouth in surprise. “That, or I’ve known you most of your life. So, you got back with him. What sparked that?”
Beth shrugged, her lips pursed. “Bumped into him with some friends, having drinks one night, and…” She sighed. “I don’t know, Val. I’m an idiot.”
Val cocked her head to one side and reached for Beth’s hand. “Nonsense. If you love the guy…”
Beth’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. I did, before all that crap happened.”
“When we talked in June,” Val said, “you said you didn’t miss him one bit. That was two months after you kicked him to the curb. What changed?”
Beth shrugged. “Seeing him that night, it all came back. All the feelings, all the, ahem, desire,” and she blushed. “Before I knew it, we picked right up where we’d left off.”
“How long?”
“Since late July. Six weeks or so.”
Troy returned with their appetizers—beef roll-ups, Swedish meatballs, and hot wings.
“Damn, that’s more meat than I eat in a week,” Val said. “You must be hungry.”
“I’ve been craving these all day.” Beth scooped half of the meatballs onto her plate.
“Your Nojito,” Troy said, handing Beth a fresh drink. He turned to Val. “Another glass of wine?”
Val shook her head and slid her half-empty glass aside. “Did I hear him right?” Val said when the server left. “You’re drinking a mocktail?”
“Cutting back on my booze.” Beth avoided meeting Val’s eyes.
“So,” Val said with a teasing grin, “No alcohol, craving meat…the last time this happened, you were running for homecoming queen at UConn. What’s up? You pregnant or something?” She laughed, but Beth’s reaction cut her mirth short.
“Damn you!” Beth chewed a huge bite of meat and swallowed. “You have to stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” Val stopped mid-reach, her hand hovering over the appetizer plate. Unease settled in her stomach. “Beth. What are you telling me?”
“I don’t need to tell you anything, apparently,” Beth said. “You’ve already spoiled my big news.”
Queasiness arose in Val’s stomach. She slid a wing onto her plate and gripped the edge of the table. “Beth, are you saying…you’re p—”
“Pregnant.” Beth grabbed another Swedish meatball. “Yes. Dork. You were supposed to wait and let me tell you.”
Val fought to breathe. “Sorry about that. I was just kidding around, I promise. But…for real?”
Beth nodded.
“With Josh, I take it?”
Beth made an of-course-you-moron face at her.
“Wow. That’s…amazing.” She wanted to say, “I’m happy for you,” but Beth’s morose expression pre-empted her. In a low voice, she asked, “How far along?”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Six weeks, duh.”
Val’s insides melted and seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Six weeks…the night they got back together. “Does he know?”
“As of last night, yes.”
Val hesitated, then asked. “How’d he take it?”
Beth shrugged. “He nearly fainted. Then he proposed. Again.” She laughed.
“That’s wonderful!” Val clapped and stood to reach for a hug, but Beth remained morose and rooted in her chair. She sat again. “So…what did you say?” Unease washed over her a second time.
“That’s the worst part.” Beth chewed another chunk of hot wing. “I told him yes.”
“And that’s bad because…?”
“Because it’s stupid. To get married over a kid? No. Not gonna happen.”
Val sat back, letting her gaze wander while she collected her thoughts. She caught the guy at the next table staring at Beth’s boobs again and glared at him until he looked away.
“So…I’m confused,” Val said after several seconds. “You said yes, then what? You changed your mind?”
“Yup.” Beth sipped her water. “He didn’t take that news well.”
Val collapsed back into her seat. “So, you’re not getting married.”
“Not getting married, not having a kid.”
“I see.” Val heaved a deep breath. “So, you’re going to…” She let the sentence hang.
“Get an abortion, yes.”
“Wow,” Val said. “How are you feeling about…all of this?”
Beth gazed at her plate, drummed her fingers on the table. “It is what it is.”
Val grasped for words. “Well,” she said after too long, “that feels like the right decision for you…I think.”
Bite, chew, swallow. “Glad you approve.”
“Beth! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…well, I’m still catching up with you on this. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m just irritable about it.” Beth sipped her water and forced a smile, which faded in an instant. “I talked to the clinic this morning, and they said I should do it soon.”
“Makes sense,” Val said, still numb.
“And that I should bring someone with me. For support.”
“Josh?”
Beth’s face showed irritation. “Remember the part about him not taking this well?”
“Right. So…” Val’s cadence slowed as the realization dawned on her. “You’d like me to join you?”
Beth gazed up at her, tears forming. “Would you?” She sniffled. “I was going to ask my sister, but she’d tell our mom, and Mom would never understand. She’d insist that I keep it, and—”
“Of course,” Val said. “Whatever you need, Beth. Anytime. Always.” She stood, circled the table, and held her friend in a long, tight embrace.
“Thank you,” Beth said through tears. “You’re the best friend ever.”
“No, you are,” Val said, chuckling.
Beth laughed, too, and held her tighter. They remained in that embrace long after their food arrived, the world dissolving around them in the settling dusk.
The news from Beth left Val rattled and full of nervous energy. Instead of going for a run, her usual go-to for releasing stress, Val drove to her dojo for the drop-in jiu jitsu session they held every Tuesday. Traffic snarls made her late for the start of the 7:00 p.m. class—the other participants were already stretching and warming up on the mat when she arrived—and she still needed to change into her gi.
Val changed quickly and joined the others in the warm, well-lit room. She’d stretched for only a minute or so when the sensei strolled over.
Master Daisuke, a wiry man with wisps of white hair streaking his balding scalp, stood an inch or two taller than Val’s five-foot-six frame, and despite her slender frame, he probably weighed less than her. His face always reflected calm, even in the most stressful circumstances. He folded his hands and bowed. Val returned the gesture.
“I am happily surprised to see you tonight,” Master Daisuke said. “After so many months of, shall we say, irregular participation, suddenly we have you for an extra night. Or did I misremember your schedule, Miss Valorie?”
“No, Master, you are correct,” Val said. “Wednesday is my usual night. I felt I needed some additional training.”
“This pleases me,” he said. “Your experience and leadership will be most welcome, as many inexperienced learners are here tonight. May I count on you to assist?”
Val blushed and bowed again. “I would be honored and humbled to serve.”
“Excellent. Allow me to introduce you to our other group leaders.” Daisuke signaled two men standing nearby with a quick wave of his hand, reminding Val of the way Queen Elizabeth greeted her subjects.
The larger of the two men nodded back, a burly guy with military-short brown hair whose loose black belt allowed his gi to yawn open over his hairless, muscular chest. Val recognized him as Rick “Tank” Steiger, an exuberant personality with a loud voice. Tank had served Daisuke as an instructor for several years. Over that time, he’d risen in stature to become Daisuke’s administrative assistant, taking over the business and financial aspects of running the dojo.
Val had never warmed up to Tank. On a few occasions, she noticed him giving the men more individual attention and more advanced personal instruction. He also favored the men in promoting them to higher belt levels, and in awarding points and victories when they sparred with women. On occasion, he let a remark slip about the female students being more “fragile,” but he’d always apologized, and he often complimented Val’s work at the gym.
Tank nudged the man next to him, a shorter, thin, blond-haired man in his twenties with the beginnings of a pale mustache, and the two strode over to Val and Daisuke. “How can we help you, Master Daisuke?” Tank asked.
“A new assistant will help us tonight,” Daisuke said. “Miss Valorie, I believe you know Richard?”
Val and Tank exchanged quick nods, then she extended her hand to the smaller man. Up close, she realized she’d underestimated his height, revising her guess to about five-foot-nine. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said.
“Steve Raymond,” the man said, “but I prefer Stevie Ray. Like the guitarist.” He mimed an air guitar and sang a few off-key notes from “Tin Pan Alley.”
“Uh, sure,” Val said. “Good stuff, Stevie.”
Daisuke gathered the participants into a circle and introduced Val, Rick, and Stevie to the group. “Rick will demonstrate some new techniques, then we will divide up by skill levels to practice,” the Master said.
On cue, Tank demonstrated a new technique for takedowns on Stevie. The maneuver, designed to disarm an opponent in close quarters, began with grabbing one’s opponent high on the body. while twisting and executing a sharp heel-kick to the back of knee. Though Tank performed the takedown in slow motion, Stevie grunted in obvious pain when his chest hit the mat.
To Val, the move seemed more aggressive than anything Daisuke had ever taught them. She recalled Tank saying that he preferred a more “modern” style, one that resembled competitive mixed-martial-arts in style. Daisuke always favored a more traditional, defensive approach.
The eyes widened on the face of a young Asian woman next to Val named Maya. “They want us to master that?” she asked Val.
“We’re expected to know the move,” Val said. “So, yes, I guess we’ll be practicing that tonight, among other things.”
After Tank and Stevie taught a few more kicks and takedowns, Daisuke divided the class into working groups by belt color. Tank took the most experienced participants, wearing black and brown belts. Stevie took the beginners, in white belts, and Val led a small group of intermediates wearing blue and purple, Maya among them. Master Daisuke roamed the gym, observing and commenting on their technique.
When Maya’s turn came to practice the takedown, Val paired off with her. Though Val stood three inches taller, Maya’s thicker, rectangular frame gave her a ten- to fifteen-pound advantage over Val’s one-hundred twenty-five-pound, wiry body. Val remained passive while Maya executed the technique.
Watching nearby, Tank tsk’d and shook his head. “No, no,” he said, leaving his group while they took a brief break. “It’s not all about your strength. Use your opponent’s weight and momentum against them. And keep it tight. You should be able to executive this move in a phone booth. Try again.”
Maya’s expression showed annoyance mixed with humiliation, and she paused a moment before replying. “My opponent wasn’t moving.”
“Help her out, Dawes,” Tank said. “Make a move toward her, as if to attack.”
Val complied, and Maya took her down with greater intensity. Val’s body thumped to the mat with uncomfortable force, and it knocked the wind out of her.
“Good, good!” Tank said. Maya beamed with pride. “Now you, Dawes.”
Val bristled at Tank’s intrusion into her group and at his arrogant assumption that he could instruct her. But she realized he was right—she needed to learn the move as well. She executed the takedown, albeit with less force than Maya. The girl’s softer, rounder body landed with a gentle “thump” on the mat.
“Harder!” Tank barked. “Unless you think your opponent in the ring—or on the street—will behave like a crash-test dummy like pretty little Maya here.”
“What an asshole,” Val whispered.
“That’s how we learn, right?” Maya said. “Tough coaching.”
Val shook her head and said nothing. They got up and Val tried again.
“Better,” Tank said. “Keep practicing.” He returned to his group, complaining about their “laziness” for watching him work with Val and Maya instead of continuing to practice. Stevie Ray laughed at first, then caught Val’s irritated expression and made a big show of rolling his eyes toward Tank.
Val rolled her eyes back at him and turned her group’s attention to the other moves they needed to practice.
When the class broke up and participants headed to the locker rooms to change, Stevie Ray stepped into Val’s path and smiled at her.
“Nice work out there, Valorie,” he said. “You’ve got some skills.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I used to be a regular here. How about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
“I moved here a few months ago,” Stevie said, “to work with Tank. He and I have been friends since, I don’t know, junior high? How about you? How long have you been taking lessons?”
“Since I was ten. You?”
“When I turned eighteen. So, not as long as you.” Stevie Ray cast his eyes downward. “Look, all this exercise got me thirsty. I wondered if maybe you’d like to catch a drink with me after class?” His words came out in a nervous rush.
“Thanks, but I have a boyfriend. Anyway, I wouldn’t want anyone suspecting you of favoritism, right?” Val smiled to soften the rejection, but his downcast expression told her the disappointment hit him harder than expected.
“Yeah, right.” He forced a laugh. “Well, he’s a lucky guy.”
Val trudged off toward the women’s lockers. Pushing the door open, she glanced back at Stevie Ray, his rejected-puppy-dog look still trained on her retreating form.
She waved, gave a half-hearted smile, and escaped into the locker room.
Long after darkness fell, Val parked her Honda Civic next to Gil’s blue Ford Explorer in the driveway of his modest split-level ranch on a narrow cul-de-sac in northeast Clayton. He waved from the living room, sitting on the sofa in front of his flat-screen TV, watching the Red Sox-Yankees game. Which meant he hadn’t minded having the night off from her. Much.
“How was dinner with Beth?” Gil asked once Val came indoors. He eased his husky, six-foot, two-inch frame off the couch and wrapped her in a tight embrace, following up with a long, passionate kiss. So, maybe he minded a little.
“Emotional.” Val dropped her purse on an end table and collapsed next to him onto the sofa. “You’ll never believe the news.”
Gil flicked off the TV, which meant his beloved Red Sox were getting crushed again by their Bronx rivals. He fixed her with an intense gaze from his big brown eyes and ran a paw through the waves of his thick black hair. It had grown out over the summer—time for a haircut.
She didn’t mind. His thicker mane made him even more handsome, somehow.
He held her hand. “Was it as bad as expected? Wait, let me guess. Beth and Josh eloped.”
“Worse,” Val said. “Wait. How did you know they’d gotten back together?”
Gil laughed. “Lucky guess. What do you mean, ‘worse’?”
Val blew out a long breath. “I’m…not sure she’d want me to tell you.”
He furrowed his brow. “What, you think she expects you wouldn’t tell me? I mean, whatever you want to do…” Gil’s voice trailed off, and he sipped on a half-full beer glass resting on the coffee table.
Val considered that and shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, I want to hear what you think. Just between us, though, okay?”
He mimed zipping his lip. “Scout’s honor.”
She settled in under his muscular arm and snuggled up next to him. “So, yes, Beth and Josh got back together. Then she…oh lord. I’m not sure I can even say it.”
“Broke up with him again?” Gil guessed.
Val sat up and glared at him. “Yes. Except that’s not the end of it.”
“Good grief, Val. Tell me already. The suspense is killing me.”
She gulped. “They…got pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Gil emitted a low whistle. “Crap. Now what?”
“She asked me to accompany her to the clinic tomorrow afternoon.”
His mouth dropped open. “She’s getting an abortion? Tomorrow? And she told you about it tonight?”
“Tomorrow’s a consult with the doctors,” Val said. “She expects to undergo the actual procedure next week.” Val heaved a huge breath. “Beth’s still in her first trimester, so not a big deal, medically. Emotionally, though…” Her voice trailed off.
Gil patted her leg, concern etched on his face. “Seems like it’s affecting you almost as much as Beth.”
Val leaned into his warm body, resting her head on his shoulder. The dull ache that lodged in her chest after hearing the news from Beth wouldn’t go away. “I can’t help but speculate,” she said, her voice tight, “that if she and I hadn’t drifted apart this summer—”
“Val, you can’t blame yourself.” He wrapped both arms around her and rested his chin on her head. When he spoke, his words vibrated through her body. “Beth’s a big girl, capable of making her own decisions…including whether and when to use protection.”
Val sat up straight, anger flaring. “Beth didn’t get decide to get pregnant, and this wasn’t some fling. She and Josh were engaged at one time, Gil, and they used protection…I think. I mean, she’s been on the pill for years.”
“Pills fail, and condoms break,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” She cuddled back into his arms. “Sorry for snapping. I’m just upset about it all.”
“No, I’m sorry for implying that your friend was irresponsible. Accidents happen. The important thing is that she’s being pro-active now and not making rash decisions.” Gil gave her a tighter squeeze. “Besides, she has the best friend a person could ever want to help her through this.”
After a moment, his body went rigid. Val turned to see his face. “What’s the matter?”
Gil licked his lips. “Which clinic?”
“Planned Parenthood. Why?”
He took a deep breath, let it out in a rush. “A bunch of calls came through Dispatch today about trouble over there. Anti-abortion protests getting nasty, screaming obscenities at women and doctors going in and out. Things got serious enough that we sent two units over to maintain a safe distance.”
Val sat up again. “Do you expect them back tomorrow?”
Gil shrugged. “Hard to say. The clinic asked for an injunction to halt the protests, but the courts have sided with the protesters’ free speech rights.” He paused. “I’d hate for either of you to get caught up in any of that. If you or she got hurt…”
“What other options are there?” She whipped out her phone and searched “Family planning clinics near me.” A short list of options appeared. Three in Clayton, including Planned Parenthood, and a few others at least an hour’s drive away.
“As far as I can tell, they’ve left Safe Haven alone,” he said, reading over her shoulder. “I’ll check the database in the morning, if you’d like.”
“Please. Although it’s too late to reschedule tomorrow afternoon’s appointment. I’ll talk to her about moving the procedure itself. Assuming their reputation checks out and all.”
“They’re good,” Gil said. “Holistic medicine, drawing from both eastern and western medical traditions.”
Val shot him an inquisitive look. “How would you know?”
He looked away. “My information may not be up to date.”
She sat up straighter. “Are you saying you’ve had experience with them?”
He hemmed and hawed for a moment. “I mean, I’m a man, so…not me personally.”
“A friend?”
Gil heaved a deep breath. “You could say that.”
Val considered him a few seconds longer—his evasiveness, his sudden awkwardness with the topic. “A more-than-friend?”
He coughed into his fist, then leaned over, elbows on his knees, and nodded. “You recall I was engaged a few years ago.”
“To Jessica, yes. She…got pregnant?” A new, heavy weight settled in Val’s stomach.
“We…had a scare,” Gil said, choosing his words with care. “For various reasons, she didn’t want to get treatment in New Haven, where we lived, so she explored options up here. It turned out to be a false alarm, but I learned a few things.”
“I…didn’t know. I mean, I understand, you two were engaged, but…Gil, what would you have done if…um…”
He smiled, one shoulder lifting and falling. “Hard to say. The situation helped precipitate our breakup, in a convoluted sort of way.”
Val’s chest tightened, and heaviness spread throughout her body. “So, it wasn’t entirely about Jessica worrying about you coming home safe at night.”
Gil blinked, his eyes glistening with unspent tears. “She wanted me home safe, for her and the baby.”
Val rested her hand on his, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prodded, “You wanted the baby?”
He cocked his head left and right, as if making up his mind. “Neither here nor there, I guess. Anyway, I’m happy with the way things turned out. Leading me to you, I mean.”
The giant ball of tension in Val’s gut seemed to melt a little. “Me, too.” She yawned, and exhaustion washed over her. “Take me to bed,” she said. “Please.”
He grinned. “Any time.”
Val play-punched him in the ribs. “To sleep, mister. After this discussion tonight, I might not get back in the mood for a month.”
A look of mock-horror crossed his face, and it made her laugh. She drew him in close.
Funny how she got right back in the mood, after all.