When he first opened the door to her knock, he thought the
woman standing there was a crack whore. And then he
realized she was his wife.
Ex-wife.
For a second he could only stand there staring at her. A
bag of bones with stringy once-blond hair and drug-dulled
eyes that used to sparkle like sapphires. Yeah, she was
his ex. And a crack whore. The one didn't preclude the
other, though if anyone had told him that five years ago,
he'd have pounded him into taco filler.
"Hi, Jim," she said, face expressionless. She didn't
bother brushing the rapidly melting snowflakes from her
hair or her shoulders. "It's been a long time."
Four years. Four long years. And now she was back and all
he could feel was panic. "What do you want?" Not Tyler, he
thought silently. Please, God, not that. Not that she
would have a leg to stand on even if she had come for
their son. She'd signed him away to save her own skin.
After nearly killing him, she hadn't had much choice in
the matter. "Not even going to invite me in? Say it's good
to see me? Ask how I've been?"
"I don't particularly give a damn how you've been." But he
wasn't sure how much longer her stick-figure legs were
going to hold her, and it was chilly in the hallway. She
was so skinny she was shivering. So he stepped aside,
waved an arm and prayed Ty would remain blissfully sound
asleep in his room. The boy needed a mother, was desperate
for a mother. And Jim was working hard to find him one.
Just not this one.
Angela came inside, and he closed the door and locked it.
Looking around the apartment, she nodded slightly. "Nice
place. Way nicer than our old one was."
He shrugged. "I had to find a ground-floor unit. It's
easier on Ty."
She nodded, trailing her fingers over the gleaming
hardwood finish of a coffee table before sitting down on
the couch. He almost winced at her sitting on the
furniture, long experience with addicts making him
immediately think of them as dirty, possibly contagious.
And she was an addict. There was no question. He hadn't
seen her in four years, but he'd seen her name countless
times.
A second glance told him she wasn't filthy. She'd bathed
and her clothes had been recently laundered. He thought
she might have even run a comb through her hair. Not the
usual behavior of the street grunge he dealt with on a
daily basis.
"What are you doing here, Ang?" He took a seat in a chair
across from her, hoping she'd get straight to the point.
He just wanted her out of there.
She lowered her head. "I need a favor."
"Figures." He shook his head in disgust. "Are you even
going to ask how he is?"
Her brows drew together and she seemed momentarily angry —
the first hint of emotion he'd seen in those zoned-out
eyes of hers. But she bit back whatever she'd been about
to say and replaced it with, "How is he?"
"He's wonderful. But he's still suffering. Still in the
leg braces. Has physical therapy twice a week and hates
it. One more surgery to go, though. Just one more."
She nodded slowly. Didn't ask any questions. Why he felt
compelled to fill her in, he couldn't guess, but he kept
on talking.
"We've been through six nannies so far. But they move on,
you know. Get boyfriends, lives, less demanding jobs. He's
a lot. I'm taking every bit of time off I can get without
being fired. Not that I mind. I love being with him."
She drew a breath and studied her hands. Was he boring her
with this?
"He's sleeping. But if you want, you can look in on him."
"No." She said it a little too quickly. "That's not why I
came." He turned his head so she wouldn't see the hatred
in his eyes, focused instead on the photograph of Ty that
hung on the wall near his room. His twinkling eyes and
deep dimples and baby teeth eased the rage in Jim's heart.
And yet he couldn't help but wonder how Angela could not
want to see her own child.
Didn't matter. He was glad. Ty didn't need this pile of
human refuse in his life. "Right," he reminded
himself. "You're here because you need a favor."
She drew a breath, lifted her head. "That's right."
He lifted his brows and studied her. "Hell, Ang, you look
like what you really need is a month in rehab. What the
hell has happened to you?"
She averted her face. "You're using." He didn't make it a
question. It had been her damned drug addiction that had
almost killed their son. She'd been wasted on coke when
she'd fallen down two flights of stairs, taking their
newborn son with her. If he'd only been more aware, been
paying more attention....
"I'm clean. Have been for four weeks straight."
He looked at her eyes and knew better.
"Really. I mean it. I'm changing my life, Jim. I met a
guy — a man, a decent man. He's helping me. He...he loves
me."
So did I once, he thought. "He wants to marry me."
"Congratulations."
She drew a breath. "But it might not happen. There are...
problems. Legal problems."
He lifted his head slowly. Something about the tone of her
voice set off alarm bells in his head. "Who is this guy?"
"Vincent Stefano."
He shot to his feet the minute she said the name, stunned.
"What the hell is this, Angela?"
"He's a decent man, Jim."
"He's a porn king, Ang."
"But that's not illegal."
"No, not until it involves kids."
"He didn't do what you think he did. Those photos were
planted in his office, Jim. He was set up."
"Right." He paced away from her. Working on an anonymous
tip, he and his partner had executed a search warrant on
Skinny Vinnie's office and found an envelope full of
photos that made him want to puke. Kids. Young kids. "He's
a piece of dirt, and he's going away for a long time. So
don't make any wedding plans just yet." He closed his eyes
and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "God, how
could you be with a sleazebag like him?"
"I love him, Jim!"
"Then you're as sick as he is." He started toward the door.
"You don't understand," she cried, getting up and hurrying
behind him. "He's...he's not what you think. He's being
framed. And the only thing they have on him now is your
testimony."
"Is that what he told you?" He speared her with his eyes.
"He's a liar, Ang. I'm not the only cop who saw those
photos. And even if I was and I agreed to change my
testimony...that is what you're asking for here, isn't it?"
She couldn't hold his eyes, so she lowered hers as she
nodded. "Even if I did, there would still be the small
matter of those photos locked up safe and sound in the
evidence room. Your slimy boyfriend's going down, Ang."
She blinked slowly. "I don't understand. Vinnie said —"
"Just understand this — I wouldn't change my testimony if
your goddamn life depended on it. You got that? Because
these are kids. Kids, Ang. Kids come way higher on my list
of priorities than my drug-addicted ex-wife's love life.
Deal with it."
"Damn you, why can't you just listen?"
He went to the door, opened it wide. "Get the hell out."
"I have a chance to be happy, Jim. Don't take it away from
me."
"Yeah, it's all about you," he said, holding the
door. "I'm testifying against this puke because I can't
stand the thought of you being happy with someone else.
You keep believing that."
She leaned toward him, pressed her hands to the front of
his shirt. "Don't you care about me anymore? Even a little
bit?"
He closed his hands around her wrists to remove them from
his chest. "Care about you? You got high as a kite and
took my baby son down two flights of stairs, Angela.
Twenty-four stairs pounded his body. Twenty-four. You
broke his little legs in seven places, twisted up his
spine, split his head open, and he's still suffering from
it. Every time I take Tyler in for physical therapy and
listen to him cry in pain and beg me not to make him go
through it, I hate you more. That's what I feel for you.
Now get out. And if you come within a mile of my son
again, I'll find a way to put you behind bars. Maybe
they'll put you in the same facility with your boyfriend.
It's where you both belong."
She'd backed away from him as he'd pummeled her with his
words. When he finished, she lowered her head and moved
slowly to the door. "You never loved me. Not really. Not
the way he does."
"You think so? Tell me something, Ang, when did you meet
this slimeball?"
She frowned. "A few months ago."
"Before or after I arrested him?"
"A-after. But it's not —"
"And where did you meet him? Did he drive his Porsche to
one of the gutters where you sleep, one of the dives where
you drink, one of the filthy crack houses where you get
your kicks? Did he walk up to you in his designer suit and
ask for a date?"
She shook her head. "He...he...it's none of your business."
"Was he a john, Ang?"
Her eyes widened. "I know you've been selling it on the
streets. I'm a cop, you think I don't know? So he picked
you up. You, out of every whore out there. The ex-wife of
the cop who busted him. You think that's some kind of
coincidence?"
She blinked, tears springing into her eyes. "He...he..."
"He's using you to get to me. And it's not gonna work. You
wanna get clean, you do it yourself. Get into rehab. Stand
on your own two feet and take control of your life for a
change. But don't see this guy as some fairy-tale prince
to your Cinderella. He's trouble, Ang."
Her tears were flowing now. "You're wrong!" she
shouted. "You're wrong and I hate you. I hate you for
this!"
She surged through the door, ran down the hall to the
exit, getting to it just as the doors opened and his
partner stepped through in a whoosh of snow and wintry
wind.
Colby Benton sent a puzzled look toward the woman as he
stomped his feet and brushed at his sleeves. She ignored
him, pushed by him and out into the snowy Chicago night.
The doors closed and Colby gave his balding red head a
shake, brows raised as he met Jim's eyes.
"Tell me that wasn't a date with one of your mommy
candidates," he said. "And if it was, I hope it was a
blind date."
"Didn't you recognize her, C.B.? That was Ang."
Colby's brows went up even farther. "Crap."
"Yeah, that sums it up pretty well." Jim sighed, still
staring at the exit doors though she was long gone. There
was only the steady, swirling patterns made by the snow
and shifting wind in the glow of the outdoor lights. And
beyond that, darkness. Finally he shook himself. "Come on
in. I have to go make sure she didn't wake poor Tyler with
all her bull."
Jim turned and walked into his apartment with Colby on his
heels. He didn't have to tell his longtime friend to close
and lock the door behind him. They were cops, they did
some things automatically.
Jim stood for a long moment in Tyler's bedroom. It wasn't
dark. He always left a night-light on for his son — a
little blue cartoon hound-dog lit by a Christmas-tree
lightbulb. The same blue dog and numerous blue paw prints
decorated the bedspread, the sheets and the pillowcase. A
strip of wallpaper border halfway up the wall sported the
same character. There was even a blue "thinking chair" in
the corner.
And in the midst of it all, snuggled deep in the covers,
lay Tyler. Hair too thick and a little too long and
looking like a mixture of honey and amber. Eyes usually
sparkling with mischief and intelligence, and so big you
could fall right into them, but closed now as he slept. A
smile so bright it could light an auditorium. He lay with
his lashes resting on his chubby cheeks, hugging a stuffed
blue dog. Still sound asleep.
"He okay?" Colby whispered.
Jim turned, saw his friend in the doorway and
nodded. "Never even knew she was here," he said. He walked
softly out of the bedroom, pulled the door closed but not
all the way. Colby handed him one of the beers he'd taken
from the fridge, and the two headed for the sofa and sat.
"That's probably a blessing," Colby said. "He doesn't even
remember her, does he?"
"No. He only knows his birth mother had to go far, far
away and can't ever be a mom."
Colby nodded slowly, sipped his beer as he got
comfortable. "Any progress in finding him a new one?" He
asked it with a slight smile, as if he still wasn't
convinced Jim was serious about his ongoing project.
"I've crossed the first ten candidates off the list. Have
to find some new prospects before I can move on."
Colby blinked. "You're kidding, right? I mean, you're
really...auditioning women for this?"
"Dating. As far the women know, anyway. Hell, it's not
exactly honest, but I need to find out what they're about
before I make any kind of decision here. I need a woman
who can love him the way I do. That's a tall order to
fill. She's got to be willing to put him first in her
life, ahead of everything else. Family, career, friends —"
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