Marta fixed spaghetti for Derek that night and they ate in her small kitchen. He filled her in on the day’s events, which she found fascinating yet also disheartening.
Frank had furiously denied everything, and thanks to his popularity, half the officers took his side. Although angry, Will had declined to suspend the captain simply for providing tips to the media.
He also hadn’t fired Derek, but neither had he appreciated his subordinate’s taking matters into his own hands. “I feel like I betrayed his trust, and he’s been my strongest supporter. Aside from you,” Derek added.
Despite the compliment, Marta wished there’d been a more satisfactory resolution. “He’ll appreciate you more when he recovers from his shock. How did Joel react?”
“He’s furious. Accused me of seeking to advance my career at other people’s expense.” A grimace. “I guess I’m about the most hated guy in the department at the moment. Lower than Frank.”
“You did the right thing,” Marta assured him. “Everyone ought to be grateful.”
“It isn’t all bad news.” In the one bright spot, the chief had decided against resigning, pending the results of an investigation into the new evidence—the watch—that Yolanda had provided regarding the fire.
As for the recent discovery of drugs, Will had filled in one damning detail. The morning Ben returned the car to Will, Frank had reported a flat tire and requested a ride with Will to a city-related breakfast meeting they were both scheduled to attend. The captain had produced the bag, claiming to have sat on it.
“That sneak!” Marta snapped. “The chief ought to pin a medal on you.”
“Yes, but I promised to keep his resignation a secret, and then I disclosed it to his son.” Ruefully, Derek noted, “Also, Ben’s trumpeting how this proves Vince’s innocence, at least in connection with the leaks. You can imagine how well that goes over.” When he raised his water glass, a slight tremor revealed his stress.
Marta posed the question that troubled her most. “What will you do now?”
“I haven’t ruled out chucking the whole mess and stepping off the edge of the earth, figuratively speaking.” Derek toyed with his salad. “However, I’ll be damned if I’ll leave while Frank’s still posing as a victim. I’m seeing this through.”
“Hooray!”
He smiled. “Enough about me. How’re you?”
“You’ll never believe what happened. My father the miser can’t wait to be a grandpa.” She related the story, omitting her announcement about the adoption, since Derek had asked her to postpone that decision.
He enjoyed the tale of transformation, she could tell. He cared about her, perhaps more than he realized. If she pushed a little harder—told him how much giving up these children was going to hurt, reminded him of the adorable little creatures they’d observed at the ultrasound—he might break down and marry her. The man hovered halfway to that point already.
But she refused to manipulate him. When she walked down the aisle, if she ever did, she wanted the man waiting at the altar to glow the way Hale had for Connie. She deserved no less.
Despite their closeness, Derek ultimately found refuge in solitude. Until he freely abandoned it, until he could cherish her and allow her to cherish him completely, she had to respect the gulf that separated them.
After dinner, they cuddled on the couch. Tangling together, touching and kissing seemed to lighten Derek’s mood. If they hadn’t both been concerned about the effect on the twins, Marta suspected they might have ended up in the bedroom. She decided to ask the doctor whether lovemaking posed a danger.
They parted at last, aware that both had to work the next day and Marta required extra sleep. “Is there a chance Frank could escape repercussions?” she asked as Derek shrugged into his jacket.
“That depends. I believe this ends any chance of his ever becoming chief,” he replied. “But whether he’ll be charged with a crime remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I’ve made a bitter enemy.”
“I’m on your side!” Marta told him.
Derek squeezed her gently. “That means more than you know.”
When he was gone, she curled into bed imagining that he lay beside her. In her dreams, Derek held her all night.
*
’Twas the morning before Christmas, and all through the police department tongues were wagging. Fire marshal Gavin Light and investigator Andie O’Reilly had marched over from their offices next door and closeted themselves with the chief.
Derek struggled to focus on editing a press release about the success of the officers’ bicycle project for needy kids. They’d collected thirty-seven new or refurbished bikes to distribute through local charities.
He hadn’t heard from Tracy Johnson recently, although she always stopped by once a week to read the police log. She hadn’t printed anything regarding Frank, who’d remained on the job in the two weeks since the revelation about his misconduct.
Many of Derek’s fellow officers continued to treat him with frosty civility. Joel’s sarcastic remarks had, if anything, gained momentum.
A faint stir on the far side of Lois’s office drew Derek’s attention. The fire officials were departing.
His throat tightened. If the watch Yolanda had found proved a dead end, Frank’s only offenses would be indiscretion and the likelihood—impossible to prosecute—that he’d planted the plastic bag to frame Ben.
The bad guys sometimes won. Every cop knew that.
Derek reread the press release, ran it through spell-check and emailed it to a list of newspapers, radio and TV stations. If he got lucky, maybe one or two would use it.
Lois’s pink-topped head appeared in the doorway. “Chief. See. You.” She grinned playfully. Good news or simply holiday cheer?
“Thanks.” Derek followed her.
Behind the oversize desk, Will sat with hands folded atop a report. He went straight to the point. “They found DNA on the watch that matches Frank’s.”
Finally a break, although far from conclusive. “Have they interrogated him?”
“He claims he lost the watch earlier.” Will frowned. “Trusting fool that I was, I’d asked him to check on Ben’s welfare because my son resented any interference on my part. Frank had visited the premises previously, as a favor to me.”
“Which would explain how he knew Ben usually left the door unlocked,” Derek said. “There’s also Yolanda’s sighting of a man about Frank’s build, and her report of the dog carrying a shiny object the day of the fire.”
“None of that proves he’s an arsonist.” Will tapped his blotter. “I’m going to suspend Frank while we present this information to the D.A.’s office. Whether or not they’ll bring charges is another matter.”
The guy might yet skate.
“I’m glad you’re staying on permanently.” Derek had learned about that decision a few days earlier. “Sorry I disappointed you.”
“Excuse me?” The chief shot him a startled glance.
“For breaking my promise and telling your son you planned to resign. And for going behind your back about Tracy.”
“I never thanked you, did I?” Will rubbed his jaw absently. “You’ve taken a lot of heat for what you did. The truth is, I’m damn grateful. You’re one of this department’s greatest assets.”
The approval soothed Derek. He hadn’t lost this man’s respect, and that meant a lot more than easy popularity with his colleagues. “Thanks. Happy holidays.”
“Same to you.” They shook hands.
The day’s excitement hadn’t ended. An hour later, Frank emerged from the chief’s office in a rage. His insults and curses reverberated through the building.
Derek, buying a snack in the lunchroom, saw shock on the faces of the traffic sergeant and a dispatcher. Apparently they’d never guessed at the malice that lay beneath Frank’s gregarious manner.
To avoid a possible confrontation, Derek stayed put until the captain had slammed out of the station. Robbery-homicide detective Jorge Alvarez ventured into the lunchroom for coffee.
“Man, I’m glad they confiscated his gun. I was afraid he’d go ballistic,” he told Derek. “You were right about him.”
“Yeah, he’s a real hero.” Joel materialized, dour as usual. “One more step in your rise to power, eh, Derek? Maybe you can leapfrog into the captain’s chair and skip all that nonsense about testing for lieutenant.”
Despite a frown, Jorge’s only comment was an ironic, “Merry Christmas, guys.” He departed.
“I already told you I’m sorry for involving you,” Derek responded. “I had to find out where Tracy was getting her scoop.”
“And I look like a blabbermouth to you? Never mind. Mission accomplished—you’re the chief’s fair-haired boy now.” Joel brushed past him.
Derek gave up. While he hated to see a friendship of many years’ standing destroyed, the man refused to accept an apology.
At shift change in late afternoon, Rachel dropped into Derek’s office. “Russ and I are holding an open house tomorrow afternoon. It’ll run late so our friends can drop by after their shifts or family gatherings. You’ll come, right?”
“Sure.” His family’s meals were held in the morning, with dinner at midday. “Is Joel attending? I’d hate to spoil your party.”
“He’d better leave his attitude at home or Connie will tell him where to stick it.” With a wave, she breezed out.
Christmas. Who could tell? Maybe some of the spirit would spill over in unexpected ways.
*
Marta liked the Spanish colonial style of the Reeds’ house in Costa Mesa. Two stories high with clean lines and a red tile roof, it sported a tasteful array of holiday lights that pierced the lingering morning fog.
“You grew up here?” she asked as she retrieved her shopping bag from the rear seat. Although Derek had insisted that gifts weren’t necessary, she’d enjoyed choosing items from the boutique.
“We lived in an apartment when I was small.” He collected his assortment of wrapped books. “We moved here when I entered school. Now, tell me how you chose items for people you’ve never met?”
“You mentioned that they enjoy chess, films and museums, plus there’s a new grandchild. That gave me ideas.” Her choices included toys, a travel chess set, a calendar from a major museum and a box of all-occasion cards featuring scenes from classic movies.
“It sounds easy. Not for me.” Derek matched his pace to hers as they went up the walkway.
“The difference is that I enjoy picking out presents,” she explained. “When something’s a chore, you’re bound to have trouble.”
“That makes sense.”
On the porch, he rang the bell. The door opened within seconds.
“Hi.” A dark-blonde woman in her late fifties hugged Derek and introduced herself as Lainie. “We’re delighted our son brought a friend.”
Her gaze flicked over Marta’s high-waisted green dress. She was either too polite or too stunned to inquire about the bulge.
“It was kind of you to invite me,” Marta said simply.
In the vaulted living room, she met the rest of the clan: Derek’s handsome father, Andrew; brother Thomas, an attorney in the county public defender’s office; and sister Jill, an accountant who clearly doted on her four-month-old daughter, Minnie, and her husband, Aaron, a CPA.
Everyone greeted the new arrivals with cautious good cheer. Their wariness puzzled Marta.
Jill clarified the matter later as Marta helped her retrieve platters of hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen. “You must be good for Derek. He’s in a friendly mood.”
“What’s he usually like?” Marta couldn’t resist inquiring.
“Grumpy,” his sister admitted. “We’re all a little afraid of him, although I guess that’s silly. When I was growing up, he seemed like this big angry brother who was always yelling.”
Marta would have liked to learn more, but Lainie joined them and the subject changed. “Does your family live far away?” Derek’s mother asked as she checked on the turkey.
“No, but my dad and stepmother go to her parents’ home in San Diego.” Happily, Marta added, “They dropped in last night, so we had a little celebration then.”
She’d baked Harry’s favorite cookies, which he’d greeted with surprise and pleasure. He and Bryn had given her a luxurious bathrobe, cherry-red like one that Marta had treasured as a child. While the visit had been brief, she hoped for more frequent contact in the future.
During the meal at the Reeds’ house, conversation flowed across the dinner table. Marta didn’t talk as much as usual, partly so she could absorb more details about this family and partly to avoid accidentally mentioning Derek’s illness or her pregnancy.
Afterward, everyone returned to the living room. With flames crackling in the fireplace, they opened presents, exclaiming over each. Then the adults joined in the Christmas carols, accompanied by Lainie’s guitar.
Seated on the couch beside Marta, Derek laid an arm around her waist. Jill beamed and Derek’s father nodded approvingly.
Although Marta liked these people, she sensed the truth of what Derek had told her: that he didn’t quite fit in. While Derek helped his mother clear the coffee cups, the other three men discussed local politics. Jill came to sit with Marta.
“Derek is acting different today.” The young mother dandled her baby. “He’s actually enjoying himself. You guys should get married.”
“I think so too.” Quickly Marta murmured, “But don’t tell him.”
“I won’t.” The other woman sounded wistful. “I wouldn’t dare. I’ve always wanted to get closer, but I’ve never known how.”
That makes two of us. Out of respect for Derek, though, Marta held her tongue.
*
His back stiffened as he loaded the dishwasher. Derek tried in vain to repress the flash of pain, which must have shown on his face.
“You’re young to have arthritis.” His mother reached out to massage his muscles. She rarely touched him, Derek reflected as her fingers probed the tightness. “Have you seen a chiropractor?”
He couldn’t summon the will for subterfuge. “It isn’t arthritis, Mom. I have Parkinson’s.”
She stopped, out of sight behind him. “Derek, I’m so sorry. My father had that. Don’t you remember when you stayed with them in San Francisco?”
Derek searched his memory. Grandpa’s use of a cane hadn’t seemed remarkable. “I just thought he was old.”
Lainie circled into view, her eyes glistening. “How long have you known?”
“About a year.” He waited for the inevitable question about why he hadn’t revealed his condition sooner.
Instead, his mother said, “And you kept it secret. Because that’s the way we raised you, holding things inside.”
“But you aren’t like that with Jill and Tom.” He placed one more glass in the top compartment and closed the dishwasher door.
As a teenager, he’d accused her of loving his siblings more. She’d always denied it. Now she replied, “You’re right. Things were different with you that weren’t your fault, Derek.” Apparently uncomfortable at the disclosure, she began snapping lids on food containers. “I adore your friend Marta. Are you—I mean, is she—is she pregnant?”
“Yes.” To save his mother the trouble of inquiring, he said, “We don’t plan on getting married.”
“Why…why not?” Lainie asked hesitantly.
Had he really been so cranky that his mother expected a sharp retort to such a natural question? Abashed, Derek leaned against the counter. “Because I’m bad at relationships. Look at how cozy you and Dad are with the rest of the family. Even Aaron fits in better than I do. There’s something wrong with me and I wouldn’t wish that on Marta.”
Tears shone on his mother’s cheeks. “Oh, honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I should have told you sooner.”
“Told me what?” He hadn’t been prepared to discover some long-held secret.
“Just a minute.” She peered into the living room. “Good, they’re all busy. Marta and Jill have hit it off. Derek, sit down.”
As he complied, he remembered Marta’s suggestion that his birth might not have been planned. Okay, but since his parents had obviously wanted kids, what difference did that make?
Lainie perched opposite him. “Derek, you were an accident.”
“I’d drawn that conclusion.”
“Did you know we weren’t married?” She sounded breathless.
That he hadn’t guessed. “No.”
She twisted her hands. “We were both in law school. While we’d discussed marriage, we’d left it up in the air. Then suddenly we had to decide.”
Until Marta’s pregnancy, Derek might not have understood. Now he pictured these two towering figures as uncertain kids. “Did you consider giving me up?”
Tearfully, she conceded that they had. “In the end, I couldn’t let you go. Dad came around, but I had to drop out of school. When you were two, I returned to school and he started clerking for a judge. We rarely got enough sleep, and we fought constantly. We even separated for a few weeks.”
“Why did you get back together?” he asked.
“We missed each other.”
He’d had no idea. “You should have told me.”
“You were a baby! Later, we assumed we’d put everything behind us.” She swallowed. “That our tensions affected you didn’t occur to me. People used to say children are resilient. Maybe, but they’re highly sensitive to emotion, negative as well as positive.”
“Yet you had two more,” he pointed out.
“Once I finished law school and Andy started earning decent money, things got better. We decided to complete our family with one more. Tom was an easy baby and your dad longed for a daughter.”
“You wound up with two little sweethearts and one curmudgeon.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness.
“Two compliant children and one with a forceful temperament.” Lainie laid her hand on his arm. “Derek, I admire you tremendously. You have such strength and integrity. The qualities that drove me crazy in a toddler stand you in good stead as an adult. If I had to depend on one of my children in a crisis, I’d choose you.”
He scarcely believed he’d heard correctly. “I don’t deserve that. I’ve been nursing my adolescent resentment far too long.”
“You have a right to be resentful. We should have seen a counselor, as my parents urged. Instead, when you erupted, we bailed out and sent you away.” Lainie wiped a tear from her cheek. “A classmate of yours told me years later that you were fighting a bully that day to protect a younger child. When it happened, we simply accepted the school’s description of you as a troublemaker. Derek, I’m terribly sorry.”
She must have bottled up these regrets for ages. Like him, she hadn’t known how to breach the gap.
From deep in memory drifted a comment Dr. Wrigley had made during her sessions with Derek. Children who don’t feel loved come to believe they’re not lovable. They think they’re flawed.
His mother’s words quickly followed. If I had to depend on one of my children in a crisis, I’d choose you. He couldn’t imagine a stronger declaration of love.
“Thank you for telling me this.” Derek met her halfway for a big hug, an all-enveloping embrace instead of their usual tentative pat. “I love you, Mom.” His throat clogged.
“Be happy, son,” she said. “That’s all I ask.”
Now he had to figure out how to do that.