Demi nodded. “So what are your parents’ names, Susannah?”
“Demi,” Mitra hissed, making a fierce face.
“What?” Then Demi blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Your parents were… You didn’t have a good relationship with your parents.”
Demi seemed to be the master of understatement, but she also looked upset, so Susannah smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’d be naming any children after my parents.”
“So you will have children.” Satisfied, Demi went back to her chopping.
Susannah considered protesting, then caught Mitra’s grin and closed her mouth.
“How are the clothes I bought working out, Susannah?” Mitra asked, deftly turning the topic. “Stacie was thrilled that you gave her that outfit back, by the way.”
“I figured she would be. Your clothes are perfect, thank you. But I’m nearly out.”
Mitra’s eyes widened. “How? I got you five outfits.”
Susannah grimaced. “They keep getting bloody.”
“Oh, yeah.” Mitra shrugged again. “Well, Johnny can clean them for you.”
“Johnny can clean anything,” Demi said. “An-y-thing.”
Their conversation shifted to the stains cousin Johnny had removed, then on to other cousins and so many family members Susannah gave up trying to keep them straight. Instead she enjoyed the pleasure of being in a warm kitchen instead of a restaurant, part of the conversation, instead of listening in on others from a table for one.
The meal was the same. Sitting between Luke and Leo, Susannah watched the quiet devotion his father showered on Mama. And there was laughter, so much she wanted to hold it all in.
“What does Lukamou mean?” she whispered to Leo. Mama had called Luke by that name more than once and every time he’d softened. That’s when Susannah realized she was seeing him being superglued back together before her very eyes.
“It’s a pet name,” Leo whispered back. “Like if someone called you SuzyQ.”
“But no one would,” Susannah said darkly and Leo chuckled.
“Luke’s real name is Loukaniko, by the way. Luke is just a nickname.”
“Loukaniko,” she murmured. “I’ll remember that.”
Too soon the meal was over. To think that they did this chaotic, wonderful thing every Sunday afternoon. No wonder Daniel loves it here so much.
“You come back next week,” Demi said with authority. “Even if Luke must work.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
Like a noisy herd, the whole family moved toward the door. Leo was waiting with her coat and purse. He helped her with her coat, then pressed her purse into her arms. Startled, her eyes flew up to meet his. Her purse was three pounds heavier than it had been before she arrived and she immediately understood what he’d done. “Leo.”
He caught her in a hard hug. “Feel safe,” he whispered. He pulled back, his eyes as black as Luke’s and just as intense. “Come back soon.”
Her throat tightened. “I will. Thank you.”
Mama caught her in another bear hug. “That matter we discussed on Friday night,” she said. “Your crossroads. Have you decided which path you’ll take?”
Susannah thought of the press conference, now only hours away. “I knew which direction I had to take then,” she said. “I just didn’t like it.”
“Then it must be the right one,” Mama said wryly. “As Leo says, come back soon. Luka, do not leave that dog in my house.”
Luke sighed long-sufferingly. “Fine. Come on, Dog.”
“Call her Darlin’,” Susannah teased. He’d not done so in front of his family.
Leo snickered. “Yes, darlin’.”
Luke glared at him. “It’s bad enough I have to take the damn dog,” he muttered. But when he lifted Darlin’ into the backseat of his car, his hands lingered to pet her head. “Good girl,” Susannah heard him murmur. “Good Darlin’.”
Her heart cracked open. I want him. I want this. They’re happy. I want to be happy.
He got into the car, eyes resting on his mother’s house. “Chase told me to go home, get recharged,” he said. “I just did. Thanks for giving up your sleep. I needed this.”
She took his hand, entwined her fingers through his. “So did I.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Let’s take the dog home. Then I have a team meeting before your date with the media. Are you ready?”
“Yeah. I’m ready.” And she found she really was. “Let’s go.”
Dutton, Sunday, February 4, 3:15 p.m.
Luke found Chase sitting on a bench in the outdoor break area, staring morosely at a pair of ducks that greedily pecked the ground. In one hand Chase held a bag of popcorn. Between his fingers was a lit cigarette.
“You don’t smoke,” Luke said.
Chase looked at his cigarette. “Used to. Quit twelve years, four months ago.”
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked, bracing himself for the next wave of bad news.
Chase looked up, no smile on his face. “Bobby just hit a baker’s dozen.”
Thirteen. Luke’s heart sank. “Monica’s dad?”
“No. No, he’s still missing, as is Judge Borenson.”
“The Davis kids were found, so who is it?”
“Jersey Jameson. He transported the girls from the bunker to Ridgefield House. He tried to clean, but we found one of Ashley Csorka’s hairs, along with traces of vomit.”
“She said she’d gotten sick in the boat,” Luke murmured. “Who was the thirteenth?”
“Kira Laneer.”
Luke sat on the bench heavily. “Garth Davis’s mistress. She’s dead?”
“Theoretically, yes. In reality no.”
“Chase, you’re not making any sense.”
He sighed. “I know. I’m tired. And now I know for sure I have a mole on my team. I mentioned Kira in the meeting this morning on purpose. She didn’t really call in a tip.”
Luke frowned. “You suspected one of us?”
“I suspected somebody. I had Ms. Laneer socked away in a safe house and good thing I did. Someone fired into her home a few hours ago. They hit a mannequin we’d put on the sofa. With a wig, it looked like her from behind. When my agents confronted him, he shot them.”
Luke closed his eyes. “And?”
“One stable. One critical. Shooter got away. One of the agents managed to get off a few shots. We think he nicked an arm, but it didn’t slow him down.”
“God, Chase.”
“I know. We made sure we’d watered the flower bed under that window really well. We got a good shoe impression in the dirt. Man’s shoe, size fourteen.”
Luke shook his head. “No way that’s Bobby’s size. I can’t even wear a fourteen.”
“No, she wears a woman’s ten. She wouldn’t have been able to run if she’d been wearing these shoes, plus the deformation was even in the impression. The shoe was fully filled with a size fourteen foot. We got pictures of the shooter, but he had a mask covering his face.”
“So every time we mention someone in team meeting, they get whacked.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“I can’t see it being any of us. Even Germanio.”
“Hank wasn’t there when we talked about Jennifer Ohman, the nurse. I’ve alerted my supervisors and we’ve brought in OPS.”
Luke winced. The Office of Professional Standards was a necessary evil, but every cop, good or bad, instinctively hated them on sight. “What are they going to do?”
“Investigate the hell out of everybody. The investigation goes on, but all cell phone and land line calls will be monitored.”
“So why are you telling me this? Does this mean you don’t suspect me?” Luke tried to keep the annoyance from his voice, but goddammit, he hated OPS.
“I don’t suspect any of you,” Chase said harshly. He took a long drag on the cigarette and started coughing. “Dammit, I can’t even smoke right today.”