Emily Littlejohn - Inherit the Bones

“My mom does nails, on South Street. You might have seen her shop-Speedy Salon?”

Oh, shit. I felt my cheeks grow hot.

He grinned. “You should see your face. I’m kidding. Although I went to state school and I ended up fine.”

I blew out my breath. “Jokes are going over my head these days, Darren. I never cared about stuff like this before, but now I have crazy aspirations for the Peanut, like she’s going to go to Harvard and then medical school and then be the first female astronaut on Mars. I guess it’s true, kids will break your heart before they’re even born.”

“The Peanut?”

I nodded. “That’s what we… um, Brody and I, that’s what we call her.”

“And Brody is?”

Baby daddy didn’t sound exactly right. “He’s my partner… my boyfriend?”

Darren started to say something but Fitch arrived with a cardboard box, steam escaping from the side, and a bill. I looked at the box and knew I’d never make it home without tearing into it.

“Would it be all right if I actually ate some of it here?”

I signed the bill and left an extra large tip and when Fitch saw it, he gave an exaggerated sigh and said, “Well, I guess that would be okay. Thanks, doll!”

I opened the box and inhaled the heady air. Darren watched with amusement as I ate two pieces slowly, in silence.

“So, you and Brody, not married?” he asked. He reached over and took a slice of my pizza and folding it in half, took a bite. He took a second bite, and with the third, the slice was gone.

“No, we haven’t done that deed yet. We’re… well, to be honest, I’m still working out some issues. And don’t ever touch a pregnant woman’s pizza, if you value your life.”

He ignored me and reached for a second slice. “I thought all you young fillies ever dreamed of was the big white dress and the fancy affair.”

“That’s a pretty broad stereotype, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “So, what’s the hold up? He’s got cold feet? Thinks he can do better?”

“You don’t know anything about me or my relationship. Brody very much wants to get married. I’m the one with cold feet. Haven’t you ever been spooked before? Jesus, where does it all go?”

I happened to know that Chevy’s Double Triple Threat was a stuffed double-crusted, two-layer pie the size of a tractor tire. I couldn’t believe he’d eaten a whole one and was now starting in on a second slice of my pizza.

He looked at me and blinked. “Where does all what go?”

“The food you eat.”

“Fast metabolism, I guess,” he said with a shrug, and finished off the slice. A glob of tomato sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth and without thinking, I leaned forward and wiped it off with my finger.

Without breaking eye contact, he took my hand and for a moment, I thought he was going to lick the sauce right off my finger.

Instead, he wiped it with a napkin and then released my hand and I pulled back.

What the hell was going on? I’d been with Brody almost five years. We were expecting a child together. I wasn’t the sort of woman who even entertained the thoughts that were now flying across my mind like rolls of thunder and lightning, booming and sparking every which way.

I blamed it all on Celeste Takashima. I wasn’t about to cheat on Brody but if I did, he could hardly point a finger. He set the standard long before I ever lay eyes on Darren Chase.

I said, “I should get going. I need to rest before… tomorrow.”

“Nicky’s funeral? I’m planning on going as well,” Darren said. He stood and watched me gather my purse and the pizza and then push myself up out of the booth. “I’ll see you there, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Sure.”

Then we stood there, in a Technicolor sea of hoodies and low-rise jeans, staring at each other, until finally I broke eye contact and turned and walked out of Chevy’s Pizzeria and Arcade.

And found all four tires on my car slashed.

We drove up the canyon in silence. It was too late to get a tow, so I left my car at Chevy’s and reluctantly, but with little choice, accepted Darren’s offer of a ride. The inside of his Subaru was as beat as the outside, with a missing dashboard panel, broken cup holder, and seat covers that were heavy with fraying, fringy threads.

I ran my hand under my thigh and over a small tear in the cloth, poking my finger against the seat’s squishy interior foam cushion.

“You ever think about fixing this up?”

I was in a dark mood. The slashes on my tires were deep and I knew I would have to replace all four. Not only had someone been in my house, and scared me in the dark of the library, now they were messing with my ride. I knew it would be an expensive repair.

Darren glanced at me. “She runs fine, Gemma. I know she’s not much to look at, but the engine’s strong. I can’t really afford a new car right now. Sometimes it’s more important what’s on the inside than the outside.”

How this guy kept making me feel like a jerk, I didn’t know.

“I’m sorry. Thanks again for the ride, I appreciate it.”

He turned on the radio and found an oldies station. The upbeat music of the Temptations filled the car, and I found myself humming along.

“Do you need a lift to the funeral tomorrow?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’ll call Mac Neal-do you know him? He’s got an auto shop on Fifth?”

Darren nodded slowly. “I think I do, that little gray building? Set back from the road?”

“That’s the one. He’s great,” I said. “Oh, up here on the right.”

Darren pulled the car into the driveway. In front of us, the house was dark and quiet. He put the car in park but left the engine running.

“I think I should go in with you.”

He must have seen the look on my face because he rolled his eyes. “Gemma, your tires were slashed. Someone’s been on your property, in your house. Your boyfriend is in Alaska. I don’t think you should go in there alone. This has nothing to do with me wanting to get you in bed.”

My cheeks flushed. He wanted to get me in bed?

“I do have this,” I said, and opened my handbag and flashed him my gun. Before we left the parking lot at Chevy’s, I had grabbed it from the trunk of my car.

Darren looked doubtful. “I don’t know. I’d feel terrible if something happened to you while I sat out here like an idiot.”

“How about I go in, and look around real quick, and I’ll come back and wave at you if everything looks okay?”

I gathered up my things and was out of the car before he could protest. The thought of Darren in my house, this late at night, was somehow more terrifying than the thought of a killer inside waiting. Besides, I was a cop. I was more prepared to take on an intruder than a high school basketball coach ever was.

I strode to the front porch, deliberately not looking back at the Subaru, and fished my keys out of my bag. The cool, heavy weight of them in my hand brought a sense of normalcy to the situation, and I stuck the silver house key, with its purple fob, into the lock and pushed the door open.

As I’d expected, the house was quiet.

I felt, and sensed more than anything, that there was no one, except for Seamus. He looked at me with heavy eyes from his spot by the kitchen door. He stood and passed gas and then waddled over to the back door and sat and waited. I went room to room and turned on a few lights but kept most off; I didn’t like the sense that Darren was out there, watching me walk through my house.

Finally, I went to the front door and waved. He honked twice and backed out of the driveway. I closed the door and slid the wooden chair we keep in the foyer across the tile and angled the back of it up and under the doorknob. It wasn’t much but it would make a racket if anyone tried to get in.