John Lescroart - Guilt

But she was shaking her head. 'It's against the rules, technically. I'm sorry.'

He sighed, heart-broken, met her eyes. At home, he' d showered and shaved, then dressed with casual elegance. He looked good and he knew it. 'Well, I certainly don't want to break any rules.'

The nurse looked into the adjoining spaces, around behind her. She leaned in toward him. 'I'll get you a mask,' she said. 'We'll make an exception. You'll have to wash your hands.'

They were going to be bundling the boy up right now. His mother had asked for him. Would Mr Dooher like to take the baby in to his wife?

'That would be great,' he said. 'I'd like that.'

What he'd do, he thought, was act like she'd never left him, like it had never happened. He would let her know that he understood what had happened – her emotions had gotten the better of her and she'd given into panic.

She'd be vulnerable right now and he didn't want to scare her away. He would be kind and gentle, solicitous. He had to prove to her that she could trust him. She had always been able to trust him. Whatever he might have done, he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.

But the situation would also work to his advantage. He'd walk into her room and she'd see him holding the baby. He had gotten to their son in the hospital without her knowing about it. She couldn't have stopped him, whatever she had done.

A message would get delivered there, now, wouldn't it? He wouldn't have to say a thing.

She would come back to him. They wouldn't ever have to mention these past couple of days. This was how training worked. There had to be periods of pain, of testing, of finding out how far the chain would go until you felt it choke.

Well, Christina had found out.

Dooher didn't remember the births or much of the infancy of his other children. He'd been putting in yeoman hours when they'd been born – in those days men went to work. They didn't change diapers.

So the size of this baby surprised him – so small, nearly weightless.

They had wrapped it tight, it arms cocooned in its blue blanket. The nurse he'd charmed earlier escorted him out of the nursery, reminding him to keep the neck supported, to cover the head and shield it from any drafts while they were in the hallway.

At the door to 412, Dooher turned to her. 'Would you mind if I just go in alone and surprise her?'

Who could say no to such a reasonable request?

Christina was looking past Glitsky. The door was beginning to open and it would be the nurse with her…

No. This couldn't be.

In her dreams, something like this would happen. But this wasn't a dream.

Dooher stopped inside the door. 'Well, look at this, a little impromptu party. Corporal Glitsky, of all people.'

No one said a word. Dooher made sure the door was closed behind him. His eyes swept the room and alighted on Diane Price.

'Who's this?' he asked.

Christina spoke up protectively. 'She's a nurse practitioner here, Mark. She helped with the labor.'

Dooher accepted this. 'Well, thank you very much.' A shift of focus. 'And how are you, Christina?'

She forced herself to speak calmly. 'I'm fine, Mark. It went all right. No real complications.'

'I'm glad.' A pause. 'Though it wasn't exactly how we planned, was it?'

'I'm sorry,' she said. Her eyes never left her son. 'I don't know what happened yesterday, Mark. I guess I lost sight of things for a minute.'

'I guess so. That happens sometimes. Moments of stress.' Another silence.

'Can I have my baby, please? I have to feed it.'

'Actually,' he smiled at her, 'it's not just your baby, it's our baby, isn't that right?'

'Of course, that's what I meant. It's our baby. I meant our baby.' She held out her hands. 'And he's hungry, Mark. Thank you for bringing him in, but I'll take him now, okay?'

He shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. Not quite yet.'

He didn't even recognize her!

Diane wasn't prepared for the wave of anger that swept over her. He looked – impossibly – the same as she remembered him from college.

And now he stared directly at her and saw nothing.

She wasn't there.

It all flooded back – the experience was etched in acid. Afterward, she had been curled up on the top of her bed, great pain down there. Too hurt for tears.

This couldn't have happened to her. Her blouse, torn open, had been still around her shoulders – a distinct memory. She remembered lying there in a fetal position, holding the scrap of her blouse collar in her fist, as though it offered some protection. He'd ripped the rest off.

He was pulling up his pants, tucking himself in. She could still hear the sound his breath had made. He'd said nothing.

When he looked down at her, just like now, she hadn't been there.

She found herself speaking in the same even tones Christina had been using. 'The baby needs to be fed, sir.'

He didn't like the diversion. Snapped at her. 'I'm talking to my wife.'

'The baby needs to be fed,' Diane repeated.

This time Dooher glared at her. 'Who are you? Do I know you?'

Glitsky broke in. 'Give her the kid, Dooher.'

A disappointed expression. 'Not right yet, private. Christina and I have a few things we've got to work out first.' He turned to her. 'I want you back home.'

Christina was glued to the child. 'I was upset, Mark. With the hormones, I guess. I got scared. Of course I'll come back. You're the father. I'd never think of raising the boy without his father.'

It seemed to anger him further. 'You're just trying to get your hands on this baby, aren't you, Christina? You'd say anything now, wouldn't you?'

'No, that's not true. But the baby is hungry, Mark. He hasn't eaten yet.'

Christina had re-introduced Diane to Glitsky, so he knew who she was. It would complicate matters if Dooher realized it. Glitsky had his gun inside his jacket. He'd drawn it only occasionally in his career, and had never fired it at a person.

If this turned out to be the first time, he wanted to know what was behind his target. He moved to his left.

'Stay where you are!' Dooher backed up a step. A wider angle on the room. 'Whatever you're trying to do, it's a bad idea.'

'I'm not doing anything.'

'You're moving. I don't want you to move.'

'And if I do, what then? Are you threatening to hurt your baby if I do, is that it?'

It didn't faze him. 'I'm holding my child, Sergeant. That's all. What are you doing here?'

'I heard you were here. I wanted to talk about Wes Farrell.'

A turn of his mouth. 'I don't know anything about Wes Farrell.'

The baby mewled quietly. Christina: 'Mark, please. Let me hold him.'

Glitsky looked to Christina, back to Mark. 'Let her have him, Dooher.'

He shook the baby, shushed at it.

'Don't shake him,' Diane said.

'You shut up. I'm talking to the Corporal here.'

Diane saw it clearly. He was going to wind up killing the child.

'All right,' Glitsky said. Talk to me.'

'I told you I don't know anything about Farrell. We were supposed to have a meeting today. He didn't show up.'

Glitsky was impassive. 'We found him. He wasn't dead. Not yet.' Christina was staring at Dooher. 'Oh God, Mark, not Wes. Not your best friend.'

Glitsky pushed at it. 'You thought the fall finished him, didn't you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

The baby began to cry.

'Please, Mark, let me take him.'

He shook his head at his wife, backed up another step, looking down at the infant. 'Shh!' At Christina: 'Wes wasn't any friend of mine. He's the one who poisoned you about me, who made you leave me.'

'So you killed him,' Glitsky said.

The baby wailed. 'Shh!' More roughly. 'Shhh!'

'Don't shake him, please. Don't shake him, Mark.'