Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

She paused.

“Course that doesn’t bring Kenneth Leonard back to life. Poor guy. He finally decides to do the right thing and gets mowed down. Talk about bad timing.”

“Ironic,” Decker said. “Whole thing might never have been discovered if Azor hadn’t been murdered.” He exhaled forcefully. “And his murder had nothing at all to do with Fisher/Tyne.”

“It always boils down to a personal thing, doesn’t it?”

“Usually.”

Marge’s eyes met his. “Are you mad at me, Pete?”

“Mad at you?”

“For crapping out on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Marge sat down at Decker’s desk across from him. “When you called me over to help Bram, I hesitated. I didn’t want to do it.”

“It’s understandable. You weren’t gloved.”

“Neither were you.”

Decker shrugged. “Thinking about it later on, I wondered if I did the right thing by yelling at you to come over. There’d been rumors that he was gay. Suppose he was HIV positive.”

“Yet you didn’t think twice about it, did you?”

“Rightly or wrongly, no, I didn’t.”

“I really admire you.”

“Nothing to admire. Like I told Michael Sparks, I didn’t think, I just did what I’d been trained to do.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Decker smiled. “You’re imparting undeserved nobility to my character.”

Marge said, “His blood was clean.”

“Thank God,” Decker said. “I’m not saying Bram’s death has a silver lining. In fact, the whole thing is simply an ugly, useless tragedy. But…”

He swallowed.

“But it does give you pause for thought. Life is short. When Rina feels like joining the human race again, I’m going to take a few days off.”

“Don’t be too radical, Pete.”

“Nah, never. I’m Joe American Dad, Margie. Mr. Straitlaced, Middle-Aged Fart.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“No, actually, I’m not. But I gotta act the part.” He grinned. “Otherwise my boys’ll have nothing to rebel against.”

Ginger’s barking woke Decker up from a luxurious Sunday nap. He arose from his living room couch, rolling his shoulders to relieve them of stiffness. Stretched a moment. It hurt. He gave his hair a cursory comb with his fingers, then answered the knock on the door.

Eerie seeing Luke. At present, garbed in black, his weight loss, his longer hair, and his glasses, he looked indistinguishable from Bram. As if that entire ordeal had been just a terrible nightmare.

“Did I wake you, Lieutenant?”

“Uh…no; the dog did.” Decker smiled. “It’s okay.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad.”

“Sorry to bother you at home.”

“How’s your family?”

“Fucked.”

Decker said nothing.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth,” Luke said. “I could lie, say that Abram’s death made us closer, made us appreciate one another. But the sad thing is…we’re the same people. Worse. Because we lost our family glue. And the world lost a truly good man.”

He looked down, then up.

“Ain’t a day that has gone by…when I haven’t looked in the mirror…and pretended my reflection was him. Most of the time, when I reach out at it and feel that cold, slick surface, reality just slaps me across the face. But then there are times…times when my fingers melt with his…”

Luke rubbed his green eyes under his glasses. He smiled coldly. “Maybe that’s drugs talking.”

Decker waited a beat, then said, “What can I do you for, Mr. Sparks?”

“Actually, I came to see your wife. Is she home?”

Decker paused. “I’ll go get her. You want to come in?”

“No, thanks, I’ll just wait here.”

Luke tore into his thumbnail as he waited. A moment later, Rina appeared, a child of around three riding her hip. A real looker that woman was even with the scarf covering her hair. Made her even more desirable. He had a sudden urge to rip it off and see what was underneath.

“Hello,” Rina said.

“Mrs. Decker…” Luke’s eyes moved sideways. “Thanks for seeing me.”

Rina waited. Her husband was still with her. Luke glanced at him and said nothing.

Decker relieved Rina of the baby. “Come on, Hannah Rosie. Let’s go play in the orchard.”

“Your shoulder, Peter. Let her walk.”

“I’m fine.” To Luke, Decker said, “Excuse us.”

“Can I pick the oranges, Daddy?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, you can pick the oranges.”

“Can I throw the oranges, Daddy?”

“No, you may not throw the oranges.”

“Can I throw just…” The little girl held up a lone finger. “Can I throw just…one orange?”

“Maybe one. If you walk.”

“I walk.”

Luke watched them go. “Cute kid. Got a couple of my own that age.”

“I know.”

Luke was momentarily thrown off-kilter. “Bram told you?”

“Yes. And I met your son at the memorial service.”

“Oh…oh yes, that.” Luke looked away. “I’ve been going through my brother’s things…I came across this.”

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small wrapped package and an envelope. He handed them to Rina. “These were meant for you.”

Rina fingered the envelope, noticed the gum seal had been broken. “It’s been opened.”

“I opened it,” Luke said. “To see who it belonged to.”

Rina smiled softly. “Of course. That makes sense.”

He closed his eyes and opened them. “Actually, I did more than just read the name, Mrs. Decker. I read the entire card. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

Rina took out the card and scanned Bram’s compact writing. Dated years ago. It had been written while he’d been in residence in Rome right before he was due to be ordained. Obviously, he had nixed the idea of sending the card. She wondered why he had kept it. Whatever the reason, she was glad he hadn’t thrown it away.

Emotional words, filling her soul with a bottomless ache. Too much to absorb in front of a stranger. She’d reread it carefully when she was alone, able to break down in private.

“It was a personal note.”

“I know. I apologize. I was just so…shocked. I never thought of my brother as an emotional being, much less being in love.”

Rina looked at him, said nothing.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry I read it. Because it made me feel good…to think that Bram had experienced love and passion and fire and all that good stuff.”

He looked at her.

“I hope his feelings were reciprocated.”

Rina rubbed her wet eyes. “Thank you for bringing this over. It means a lot to me.”

“Does it?”

“You couldn’t possibly know how much.”

Luke stared at her. “Enough said then. I won’t pry.”

“Thank you.”

He paused, then said, “Do you know I was very jealous of your husband?”

“Jealous of Peter?”

“No, your first husband,” Luke said. “Bram and I had had a falling-out, weren’t talking much when he had hooked up with Isaac. I always felt we would have gotten back together sooner if your husband hadn’t gotten in the way. Because Bram loved him like a brother.”

“They were very close.”

“Anyway…” Luke clapped his hands. “I’m sure Bram would have wanted you to have the package. Even if it’s late.”

“Thank you.”

Luke bit a nail. “Pooch is his kid, you know.”

Wide-eyed, Rina stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“My son, Peter…he’s Bram’s kid. My daughter, too. I had chicken pox when I was twenty-two. An odd allergic reaction left me sterile. My wife and I tried all sorts of procedures for a long time. When nothing worked, I went to my brother.”

Luke looked away.