Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

Decker was still breathing hard. “How do you know the bullet was for you? It could have been meant for him, you know.”

“Perfectly true. I’m sure he has scores of enemies. But at the time, you had enemies, too. He acted quickly, Peter. It was strictly by instinct. And now it’s over… all of it. So I guess we’ll never find out.”

Again the room fell silent.

Rina said, “Come back to bed. It’s only five. You can still catch a couple of hours of sleep.”

He let out an absurd laugh. Sleep was elusive under optimal conditions. Under these circumstances, it was damn nigh impossible. He longed to be next to his wife, to feel her body against his clammy skin. Still, he resisted, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

She held out the covers. “C’mon, soldier. Life is short. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” He hesitated, then quickly slipped under the welcoming duvet, trying to calm his nerves as adrenaline shot through his body. “I’m just… shocked. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because a family was in distress. I thought it would have been a distraction. It was a judgment call. If I made the wrong decision, sue me.”

Decker slumped against the pillow. “Now here’s a sobering thought. I compromised your life by dragging you along. And that bastard saves you.” His laugh was bitter. “God almighty, I actually owe the son of a bitch!”

“I’m sure he evened the score in the warehouse. So consider the slate cleaned.”

Again he laughed-hard and angry. Suddenly tears welled up in Decker’s eyes. Before he could blink, they were running down his cheeks. “If anything had happened to you…”

“But nothing did happen to me.” She leaned into his body and threw her arm around his chest. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too.” His body was quivering with what might have been, his nerves raw and tender. He was still angry, of course, but not quite as angry. The bastard had been good for something other than plugging him with holes.

God had His reasons.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, love you, love you.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Decker burst into laughter, hugging her fiercely. He remained entwined with her, neither of them talking, allowing the contact of skin against skin to speak volumes. Holding her… feeling the rhythm of her heart until he heard her breathing slow and lengthen as she drifted into sleep. Gently, he disentangled himself and rose from the bed.

“Where’re you going?” she said sleepily.

“I’m getting dressed.”

“It’s not light yet.”

“I’m meeting Cindy for breakfast.” He stretched lethargy from his aching bones. “I might as well get an early jump. I’ll take Hannah to school.”

“Are you sure…” Her voice was already in dreamland.

“I’m sure.”

“And later on, you’ll help me with Omah?”

“What?”

“My grandmother?”

Oh, that . “Yes, of course,” he said. “Anything you want.”

“I didn’t die. Stop being so nice.”

He felt himself chuckle. It was a legitimate expression of joy. Though still burdened by his abject failure-that wasn’t going to disappear overnight-he felt lighter than he had in months. In an instant, a searing holocaust of hatred was reduced to… well, maybe a bonfire, burning hot and bright, but controllable. Her confession had opened a pressure valve, and for the first time in weeks, he could see again with impartial eyes.

He took a bullet for me.

Potent words. They gave him a whole new perspective on things. Now, maybe, maybe, he could concentrate enough to do his friggin’ job.

Iwas running late,going over the canyon and into the Valley: poor form because Dad had made a special effort to meet me. By the time I got to the deli, it was past nine, and Dad was already sitting in a booth, sipping coffee, reading the Calendar section of the Times. My father was a handsome guy with a full head of hair, although there was lots of white where once it had been orange. His mustache still had color. It was full and bushy and made him look like the macho guy he was. His cheeks were smooth and without shadow as in a recent shave. He had on a white shirt and a dark blue tie. His brown eyes went from his watch, then over the top of the newspaper. When he saw me, he put down the paper and smiled. But there was irritation in his expression.

I slid in on the opposite side, gasping for breath. “Sorry I’m late.”

Dad took off his glasses. “No problem. Bad traffic?”

“Not really. Just a late start.”

At least, I was honest. I picked up a menu and buried myself in the process of selection. “How’re you doing, Lieutenant?”

“Fine. I heard you had quite a night.”

“What do you mean?”

Dad looked at me with skeptical eyes. “The baby?”

“Who tells you these things?” I snapped. “Do you have spies planted in each station house?”

He checked his watch. “We’ve been together eighty-three seconds and already you’re sniping at me.”

I felt my face go hot and covered it with a laugh. He was right. “I’m sorry. Let’s start again.” I leaned over and pecked a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for taking time to meet me. You’re very busy and I appreciate it. And I’m sorry I’m late. How are you?”

This time, Dad’s smile was genuine. “I’m fine, thank you very much. You look nice.”

“This old thing?” I was wearing a dark blue blouse over blue trousers and a camel jacket.

“Well, you put it together with panache.”

“Thank you, Daddy. I’m sorry I grumped at you.”

“S’right. I only found out about the baby because I went into work early today. The police grapevine was in full force because babies in Dumpsters are always big news. How’s she doing?”

“As of one last night, very well. Now all we have to do is find the mother.”

“We?” Lieutenant Decker’s eyes twinkled. “You don’t trust the gold shields?”

“Last night, I talked to the detective in charge-Greg Van Horn. You know him, right?”

“Greg’s a good guy.”

“A bit past his prime,” I said. “His words, not mine.”

“He must be close to retirement.”

“I think he dreams of golf clubs. Anyway, he said he didn’t mind if I did a little door-to-door searching on my off-hours.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind at all. But even if you find out something, he’ll take the credit. What are you getting out of it?”

“Goodwill from a seasoned detective who admires you, and satisfaction of a job well done. Also I care about the baby. I’m the reverse mallard duck. I’ve imprinted on the kid.”

Dad gave me the courtesy of a laugh.

“I really hope we find the mother soon. She’s probably not in a wonderful state herself.”

“You mean medically?”

“Medically, emotionally. Any ideas, Decker?”

I always called him Decker when we spoke the trade. Still, he smiled at the address.

“First tell me what you know.”

“We think it’s someone local without a car because we found a pool of blood where we think she gave birth.”

“How much blood?”

“I didn’t quantify it, but Greg didn’t think it was enough to be a homicide, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Decker shrugged.

“I agree with him, Loo. I mean, why kill the mother but not the baby?”

“Sadistic killer? A botched abortion? A bleed-out like Rina had with Hannah? She almost died on the operating table. A girl in an alley wouldn’t stand a chance. It all depends on how much blood you found.”