Derek couldn’t stop stealing peeks at the shadowy shapes on the screen, certain he detected the curve of a nose or the thrust of an elbow. Two kids meant they might have a little girl like Marta and a little boy…well, hopefully with a sweeter temperament than his.
At the end of the session, the technician presented them each a photo of the twins to take home. “The babies’ first pictures,” she announced
Derek stared at his while Marta dressed. When she emerged, her forlorn expression tore at him.
“Let’s get a cup of coffee—tea—in the cafeteria,” he suggested. “You aren’t ready to get back to work.”
“Don’t you have stuff to do?” she asked.
“Nothing urgent. Besides, I’d rather lie low.” The atmosphere at the station had been tense since Monday’s altercation.
“Did Joel attempt to talk to Tracy?” Marta was well aware of the situation.
“I didn’t ask him to. It’s inappropriate, since they’re dating, and she wouldn’t back off, anyway,” Derek said.
Marta exited the elevator ahead of him. “I’m amazed they’re still involved.”
“Rumor has it she’s taking tips from his ex-wife.” The Voice office lay in the same strip mall as Connie’s Curios. “That must help in handling him.”
“Connie hasn’t mentioned talking to her. Besides, Tracy’s sharp enough to cope with Joel on her own.”
When they reached the cafeteria, Marta accepted Derek’s suggestion that she sit down and let him fetch the hot drinks. The staff had stuck glittery angels and red balls on an artificial Christmas tree in one corner, he observed. The place was nearly empty at this pre-dinner hour and, despite the decorations, appeared rather stark.
When he set the lemon tea in front of her, Marta stared at it unhappily, although she’d requested that flavor. “I could bring you peppermint,” Derek offered.
“Huh?” When she lifted her head, he saw tears brimming.
He felt a crazy urge to pull her onto his lap and soothe away her misery. “Did the ultrasound hurt, or is this one of those hormone things?”
She shook her head. “It’s because I can’t keep two babies.”
Her words hit Derek hard. Foolishly, he’d begun picturing himself dropping in to visit Marta’s place, playing with the children as they grew and helping pay the bills. “What would you do?”
“Brian, the attorney who helped with Skip’s adoption, probably knows some families,” she said glumly.
He sought a compromise. “If you arrange an open adoption, we could stay in touch.” He’d heard about mothers who remained in contact that way.
She blew on her tea. “I think a clean break would be easier on everyone.”
Derek glanced at the photo of two babies curled in eternal innocence. Hard to grasp that this might be as close as he’d ever come to holding them. “Do you have to decide now?”
“It is early in the pregnancy,” Marta conceded. “Why?”
“I guess I’m not ready to say goodbye when we’ve only just said hello,” he admitted.
She rested her chin on her palm. “Do you still want me to go home with you for Christmas? I’ll probably be showing.”
Derek didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
“Talk about arousing curiosity!” Her face scrunched. “They’ll ask questions.”
“My family respects my space,” he told her.
“But these are their grandchildren.”
He hadn’t considered that angle. The prospect of two more babies would be hard for them to resist.
Well, he’d deal with that situation when it arose. The fact was that, for the first time in Derek’s adult life, he actually looked forward to Christmas because he’d be sharing it with Marta. “The invitation stands.”
“Okay.” A tiny smile showed her relief.
His watch alarm sounded, and he swallowed his medication with the last of the coffee. The beep also reminded him to meet with a homeowners’ group about forming a Neighborhood Watch, which meant he had to leave.
Marta declined his suggestion that she accompany him downstairs. “I’m having another cup.”
Derek kissed her cheek. Although he wanted more contact, this was hardly the place. “Catch you later.”
“You bet.”
He took his photo of the twins with him.
*
Closing her eyes, Marta relished the memory of Derek’s eyes as he watched the ultrasound. That man possessed such depths of caring. He’d be a great dad if he broke through the emotional block that seemed to prevent him from enjoying a truly intimate relationship. Despite their friendship, she still didn’t understand the foundation of that wall.
However, she refused to torture herself with wishful thinking. She was too realistic to be misled by his request that she delay a decision and by his desire to spend Christmas together.
She had to prepare for what lay ahead: relinquishing their babies, and ultimately losing Derek. Not to his illness—she could cope with that—but to his fundamental need to be alone.
After finishing her tea, Marta summoned the energy to return to the shop for the rest of the day, then drove home. Inside the apartment, she peered into her refrigerator with chagrin. She’d stocked two jars of pickles because of a craving, plus a bottle of milk and a couple of yogurts, but nothing that resembled dinner.
“There’s always spaghetti,” she said aloud, and was hauling out a pot when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she opened the door.
“Chinese!” Connie held aloft a trio of take-out cartons.
“Ice cream!” Rachel displayed two half-gallon tubs.
“Best of all, we left the kids at home!” her cousin declared as they marched inside.
“Except the one in my tummy, which is very eager to meet your guy,” Rachel added.
Marta should have realized Connie would tell Rachel about the pregnancy. They’d probably informed Hale and Russ, too. While Marta hoped the news didn’t cause problems for Derek at work, she supposed the story would inevitably reach the police department.
“This is wonderful. Thanks, guys.” She displayed the ultrasound picture. “Here’s the latest scoop.”
Connie squinted at it. “Am I seeing double?”
“Oh, my gosh, twins!” Rachel whooped.
They set the table and gathered around, discussing due dates and children and plans. The other two women listened sympathetically when Marta mentioned adoption, and to her relief, neither criticized Derek.
No judgments, no attempt to control her. And no need for either to state the obvious: that come what may, Marta could count on her friends.
*
There were a few days in Derek’s life that he wished he could have skipped. For instance, the day he landed in a knife fight with the high-school bully and got expelled. Also the day when the neurologist delivered the news about his illness.
The day following Marta’s ultrasound fell into that category, too, for several reasons. One was his sheer discomfort when he walked through the station to his office and caught not only speculative looks but also Marta’s name coupled with the word pregnant.
The only person to actually allude to the topic openly was Hale, who placed a coffee-shop latte on Derek’s desk with the comment, “Sorry, no booze in there, but this oughta replace any vital fluids you lost.” That was as far as the good-natured cop cared to venture.
The day’s larger problem arrived in the form of the Villazon Voice. A photo of Ben landing a blow on Will’s cheek dominated page one. Police Chief Battles Son, read the banner headline.
Although no one could blame Derek for failing to dissuade Tracy, he believed he’d let the department down. Not only did his job call for riding herd on the media, but he also felt a personal responsibility to protect the chief.
The phone started ringing early and continued all day with requests for statements and interviews. A TV crew appeared in front of the station and, when the chief declined to speak on air, posed two news personalities on the steps to reenact the scuffle.
Unable to reach Ben, Will requested that Derek contact Yolanda to find out if the press had invaded her property, as well. Yes, people had showed up, she replied, and she’d taken advantage of the exposure to describe the merits of the tutoring program. As for Ben, he’d left for class and would probably lie low afterward.
Elsewhere in town, an L.A. station broadcast from outside Vince’s PI office, rehashing old scandals and confronting the former chief on his way to meet a client. Vince declined to comment on his successor’s troubles.
December was a slow period for news, Derek supposed. Without elections to claim the public’s attention and with the state legislature currently in recess, news shows had empty stretches to fill. Today, they were cramming them with annoying dispatches from Villazon.
As a countermeasure, Will accepted Derek’s recommendation to speak with a smattering of the more responsible newspapers and TV stations. That way, he had a chance to explain the situation in depth and apologize to the city for the indiscretion.
Derek monitored each interview, a precautionary measure that forced him to cancel his weekly hospital meeting. He missed dropping into the gift shop and wondered how Marta was feeling now about yesterday’s discovery she was having twins. Although he considered inviting her for dinner tonight, he had to work late and settled for a meatball sandwich from Alessandro’s Deli.
“The worst should be over,” Derek told his boss as they decamped around 8:00 p.m. Even the hardiest reporters had gone home. “Tomorrow, let’s hope they find some other target.”
“You did a terrific job.” The chief sounded drained.
“Glad to help.” Derek wished he had Marta’s talent for lifting burdens from other people’s shoulders. Will could use bucking up, and the widower had no one to go home to.
Neither did Derek. Arriving at his condo, he sank onto the couch but left the TV off. Much as he normally enjoyed channel surfing, he refused to subject his nerves to a glimpse of a news show.
Sleep crept over him. When he awoke, he stumped upstairs. In his dazed state, the hall seemed ridiculously long and the rooms seemed hollow.
Two chunky toddlers raced toward him crying, “Pick me up, Daddy!” Behind them, Marta emerged from the bedroom, hair tousled and face alight. “Hi, honey.”
He must be dreaming on his feet. Derek stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed. Although he’d intended to read, he was asleep in seconds.
*
He’d thought Friday would mark an improvement.
It didn’t.
The morning passed smoothly enough. As he’d predicted, the press had moved on to fresh pickings—overnight, the first heavy rains of the season briefly shut a couple of small airports and caused a mess on the freeways—and the chief spent the morning catching up on paperwork.
In midafternoon, Will slipped into Derek’s office and shut the door. Although the chief occasionally stopped by with a comment or question, he rarely stayed. This time, he moved a stack of folders and dropped into a chair.
“What’s up?” Derek asked.
“I want my meeting with you now to look completely casual,” Will began. “Nothing of what we say gets repeated to anyone. That includes my assistant and Frank or any of the other captains.”
“Okay.” Puzzled, Derek waited for illumination.
“I want you to reserve the meeting space for a press conference Monday afternoon, if it’s available.” The police used the community room at the adjacent library for such events. “Tell the librarian we’re holding a seminar. I’ll inform the mayor and city manager Monday morning.”
That statement rang ominously. “Inform them of what?”
“I’ve decided to resign.”
A chill ran through Derek. In the past year and a half, he’d developed a deep respect for Lyons. The man might lack the easy fellowship that had made Vince popular during his term, but he possessed unshakeable integrity.
“You can’t,” Derek told him.
The chief managed a faint smile. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s my professional advice.”
“The city hired me to solve its problems and instead I’ve created more. It’s best I go before this snowballs,” Will said gravely.
Derek wondered if a higher-up had applied pressure. “Is this solely your decision?”
“Yes. The city’s been damn reasonable about the whole business. No one’s pushing me.”
Good. “You’re a terrific chief and a decent man,” Derek insisted. “Your departure may leave the impression that you did something wrong.”
“Believe me, I’ve considered the effect this will have on my career.” Restlessly, Will shifted on the hard seat. “Forty isn’t old enough to be put out to pasture, but I have to consider my officers and my employers first.”
Once the press got wind of this decision, retraction would only arouse further hubbub. Derek had to persuade him to reconsider.
“This will hurt the department, not help it,” he argued. “I’m convinced somebody’s undermining us from the inside. How else could Tracy have learned about the drugs? It’s probably an officer loyal to Borrego.” He hoped by mentioning Vince to rouse the chief’s fighting spirit. “Your resignation plays right into their hands.”
“No matter who’s behind this, they’re damaging my relationship with my son. That alone is reason enough to quit,” Will replied steadily. “And I’m at fault for allowing my personal problems to spill over into public view. I’ve drafted both a letter of resignation and a public statement, which I’d appreciate your editing.”
Reluctantly, Derek accepted the papers the chief passed him. He wasn’t ready to give up. “Let’s put off the conference until Tuesday.”
“Why?”
He didn’t dare explain that he needed time to devise tactics. “It’s past Tracy’s deadline,” he improvised. “She’s caused enough trouble. I think she deserves a bit of a tweak in return.”
His logic amused the chief. “You have an admirably twisted mind, Sergeant. However, the longer we wait, the greater the chance of the news leaking.”
“If neither you nor I talk to anyone, how can it?” An answer occurred to him. “By the way, have you swept for bugs?”
“Yes. With today’s technology, though, a device can snoop from outside the building,” the chief noted. “That was one of the reasons I chose to have this conversation in your office, although there’s no guarantee of privacy anywhere.”
Derek searched for a second reason to justify holding off. “Plus, the mayor and city manager might not like to feel pressured. Best to allow plenty of time to confer with them.”
Although Will didn’t look pleased, he acquiesced. “I suppose you’re right. Once I decide on a course of action, I’m eager to put it in motion, but you make excellent points. Thanks for the counsel. Wise as always.”
“Adequate, anyway.”
As Derek rose to shake hands, he hoped he got a whole lot wiser, fast. Because by Monday, he had to figure out a way to derail this entire misguided train.