Lisa Scottoline - Daddy's Girl

Wow.

"Natalie!" Angus hollered the moment he saw her. He burst into a grin, and his bright blue eyes lit up. He cut through the students, swept her into his woolly arms, and planted on her lips the same soft, warm kiss she remembered from when they'd made love. She kissed him back as he held her close, blowing their cover even as the students began to shout and hoot, and when they kissed again, Nat felt a warmth that burned soul-deep, spread inside-out to her skin, and told her that she was, finally, safe.

Weeks later, Nat had started the next chapter in her life, seeing Angus and teaching with new confidence. Her celebrity status had intensified, with more news articles every day and reporters from the New York Times, CNN, and Court TV sitting in on her classes, bringing cameras that made even Chu raise her hand. Paul was on the mend, eating a restricted diet and even talking more softly, but she didn't feel completely happy until she heard that Barb Saunders had recovered and left the hospital, too.

Nat took a sunny Sunday afternoon to see Barb for the first time, driving to her house with the window down, the wind ruffling her short hair. It felt great to have her old color back, though she didn't think she'd grow her hair long again; it was the wrong proportion for her height. Her bruises and cuts had healed, and the evil scratches on her chest were long gone. She felt like herself, in jeans and a black cotton T-shirt, with a green Barbour for warmth. Her life had come back together, and she had made amends, too, restoring the Kia and cell phone to Bill and writing the Neon owner a fat check. It was money well spent, and she put it all behind her, enjoying the cool breeze coming in the window, carrying the earliest scents of spring.

The snows of winter had melted, and the dull browns of the Chester County countryside were vanishing before her eyes. New grass sprouted in patches of kelly green, bushes burst into leaves of forest green, and the buds of the trees were the tart hue of Granny Smith apples. Horses that had been blanketed during the winter showed their gray dapples, chocolatey browns, and rich chestnuts, making painterly splotches as they grazed in the fields. It was a lovely drive, and she couldn't wait to see Barb. Angus couldn't come because of work, but she preferred the visit to be girls-only, anyway. It had started with her and Barb, and it should end that way, too.

She took a different route to avoid driving past where Officer Shorney had been killed. She didn't need the reminder, today or ever. The bad guys had gotten theirs, and everybody called it justice, but Nat knew better now. Justice didn't compensate for the loss of human life. Justice was an intellectual concept, inevitably trumped by emotion. Justice was the word we used when we couldn't have what we really wanted, which was everything back the way it was. Justice was only a consolation prize.

She reached the house, pulled up in front, and parked, delighted to see Barb sitting in a plastic beach chair on the lawn, laughing as she watched her boys ride trikes, bikes, and Razors in the driveway. Barb had lost weight in the hospital, and it showed in her face, her cheeks sunken slightly. Still she looked happy. Her blond hair was clipped back and she wore a light blue windbreaker over her jeans.

"Hello, gorgeous!" Nat grabbed her stuff, got out of the car, and walked across the brown-green grass, which was lumpy and soggy under her loafers. "You catchin' some rays?"

"Damn right. It's the life of Riley." Barb patted an empty chair next to hers, with a grin. "Jen's inside, making us all dinner. Pot roast and potatoes."

"What a good sister."

"She's doing the laundry, too. I'm milking this for all it's worth." Barb laughed, and so did Nat.

"These are for you." Nat handed her a bouquet of flowers, and Barb sniffed them with a sweet smile.

"Thanks so much. I love roses."

"Me, too. How're you feeling?"

"Better, day by day." Barb set the roses on her lap and gestured at the boys. "They're doing better, too. We'll get through this."

"I know you will." Nat had come to say something. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

"No need to apologize."

"That night, they followed me." Nat's throat caught. "I led them to you."

"Stop. You didn't do anything wrong. You had a message to deliver and you delivered it, for Ron. Now, that's enough." Barb patted her arm.

Tell my wife. It still bugged her why he had said that, but she wasn't about to bring it up all over again. "It seems so long ago."

"I know." Barb managed a smile, and Nat couldn't wait any longer to give her a surprise.

"By the way, I have a gift for you and the kids. It's from the students and faculty at the law school." Nat reached in her purse, retrieved an envelope, and presented it with a flourish.

"What's this?" Barb opened the envelope, and her eyes widened at the check. "My God! I cant take this."

"You have to or we'll sue you."

"It's too much." Barb's eyes glistened, and Nat swallowed the lump in her throat.

"It's for the kids. Take it, please, from all of us."

"Thank you so, so much." Barb folded the envelope and put it in her pocket, and both women fell silent a minute, holding back feelings. They knew it was the time for going forward.

"I got oatmeal cookies for dessert," Nat said, handing Barb the Whole Foods box.

Barb grinned, the awkward moment gone. She undid the tape and opened the lid. "These look awesome."

"They are. I eat three in a sitting."

"Life is short. Have dessert first." Barb picked up a cookie and took a big bite. "Grab one before the little monsters do." She called to the kids, "Cookies, guys!"

"Thanks." Nat took a cookie, and the boys jumped off their bikes and came running.

"Mom, mom! Can I have a cookie?" the littlest one yelled, running up in too-big jeans.

Barb caught his arm before he jumped into her lap. "Calm down, mighty mite. Say thank you to Professor Greco."

"Thank you!" the kids called out in unison, wisely dispensing with the professor part and grabbing the cookies.

"You're welcome," Nat said, laughing. They ran back to their bikes and hopped on, then tried to eat and ride at the same time, crashing into each other. "Multi-tasking, I see."

"Always." Barb shielded her eyes with her hand, watching the littlest one, whose red trike was heading for the curb. "That's far enough!" she called out, weakly.

"You want me to yell for you? I'm a teacher."

"That's okay" Barb watched him, her eyes flinty with sunlight and concern, and Nat watched with her, eating the sweet, oaty cookie. At the end of the driveway sat a few large rocks, painted white, and the little boy was on course to plow into one. Barb made a megaphone of her hands. "Honey, don't ride there. That's Daddy's garden, you know that."

"Okay," the little boy shouted, sticking the cookie in his mouth and freeing his hands to steer back onto the driveway.

"What's Daddy's garden?" Nat asked, and Barb broke off a piece of cookie.

"A flower bed that Ron made with the kids. Tulips and daffodils, bulbs that come up. He used to say it was his special garden because it grew automatically." Barb spoke sadly. "It wasn't true, though. He spent plenty of time weeding it. He painted those rocks, too, with our house number."

Nat eyed the rocks, which were white. She hadn't seen them in the winter because they'd been covered by snow, but now they stood out, by themselves.

"Ron was always worried that an ambulance would get lost out here. He painted the numbers really big, and the paint's reflective."

"Excuse me a minute." Nat was already standing up. She walked toward the white rocks, acting on the strangest hunch.

"What?"

Nat walked around the rocks and stared at the numbers: 524. Each number was painted in black on its own rock. Tell my wife. It's under the floor.