James Grippando - Last to die

“You’re sure Tatum Knight is an heir?”

Nate spoke up, as close as he ever came to whining. “Come on, Jack, let’s go. We’re going to miss the kickoff.”

“Just a minute, buddy.”

Vivien said, “The boy’s right. We are going to miss kickoff. Call me in my office Monday morning. We’ll talk. And say hi to your daddy for me,” she said as she walked away.

“I will. Good luck tonight.”

“Go Cavaliers!”

Jack watched Vivien and her young son disappear into the crowd. The steady stream of spectators continued past him to their seats. Nate tugged at his arm.

“Hello up there!” said Nate. “Can we go watch the game now?”

Tatum Knight, an heir? Jack couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

Nate asked, “What’s that goofy look on your face for?”

“What goofy look?”

“You look like you just stepped in bat vomit.”

“I think maybe I just did.”

“Gross! Really?”

“No, I didn’t mean really.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing. You did it again!” said Nate.

Jack smiled. “So I did. Come on, let’s go watch football.” He put his arm around Nate and led him toward the bleachers.

Kelsey was getting to know Sally Fenning.

Kelsey Craven worked for Jack Swyteck. Her latest assignment was to pull together information on the two tragedies that punctuated Sally’s life, her own senseless shooting at an intersection and the murder of her daughter five years earlier. She wasn’t an investigator, so she’d gathered things that were publicly available, mostly from the Internet, such as newspaper articles and even an old Web site relating to Sally’s search for her daughter’s killer.

It wasn’t a full-time job, but a few hours a week was all she could give Jack. In addition to being Nate’s mother, Kelsey was a third-year law student at the University of Miami. Law was her second career, something she’d decided to do after divorcing the man who’d convinced her that a ballet dancer was too stupid to get into law school. She’d danced professionally for two years before a knee injury ended her career, then she’d gotten married and had Nate. From the day he’d walked it was clear that Nate would never be a dancer, but she followed her dream anyway and opened her own studio, sharing her passion with children, mostly little girls. She still taught dance but no longer owned the studio, having sold the business to pay for law school. She made a little extra money as a law clerk, doing legal research and writing for Jack Swyteck, P.A. Sometimes he sent her on fact-finding missions, like the one on Sally Fenning. This wasn’t the most intellectually challenging assignment, but it had turned out to be one of the more interesting ones.

Without a doubt, it was the only one that had ever made her cry. The doorbell rang. Kelsey put her notes and newspaper clippings aside, then rose from the table and went to the front door. Through the peephole she saw Jack with Nate’s head on his shoulder, the boy sound asleep. She opened the door and let him inside.

“Straight back to the bedroom,” she whispered.

Jack carried Nate down the hall, Kelsey right behind them. She hurried ahead to the bedroom, adjusted the dimmer switch so that there was just enough light to see, and pulled back the covers. Jack laid the boy on the bed, then spoke in a whisper.

“Sorry I kept him out so late.”

“No problem. It’s not a school night. I’m sure he had a great time.”

“A total blast.”

“Thanks for taking him.”

“You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met and held. It was suddenly awkward, as if neither one knew exactly how to say good night when it was just the two of them in the bedroom, no crazy Nate buzzing all around them. Jack said, “Guess I better get going.”

“Can you stay a minute?”

“I-uh, yeah. I guess.”

“I found some interesting stuff on Sally Fenning. We could have some coffee and go over it.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

Jack turned and headed for the kitchen. Kelsey tried to get Nate into his pajamas without waking him, but it was a losing battle. No matter how gently you tried to pull a T-shirt off a sleeping child, it always seemed to want to take his head with it.

“Mommy, stop.”

“Let me help you.”

“No, no. I’m a big boy. I can do it myself.”

“All right. You do it.”

“I need privacy.”

He was cranky, obviously overtired. She handed him the pajamas. “Take these in the bathroom with you. And so long as you’re awake, be sure to brush your teeth.”

He grumbled and marched off to the bathroom. Kelsey smiled to herself, though she was slightly saddened at the thought of her little boy all grown up and too embarrassed to get dressed in front of his mother. He was back in thirty seconds, wearing his pajama top backward.

“Good night, Mom,” said Nate, crawling into bed.

“Where’s my hug and kiss?”

He came to her and squeezed tightly.

“Oh, you’re so strong.” She broke the embrace and asked, “Teeth all brushed?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

His mouth tightened, as if amazed by the way his mother always knew. He lowered his eyes and asked, “Have you ever thought about…you and Jack.”

She lifted his chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Me and Jack, what?”

“You know. Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Yes. Jack is very good-looking.”

“He’s nice, right?”

“Extremely.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously, seeing where his little mind was headed.

“But there will never be anything romantic between us.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She wasn’t sure how to answer. It was a question she’d asked herself more than just a few times: Why not Jack? “Because he’s even worse than you are at trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not changing the-”

“Let me see those teeth.”

His lips parted slowly. The Oreo cookies were a dead giveaway. Kelsey pointed him back toward the bathroom. “March. And don’t forget the ones in back.”

He was groaning as he scurried down the hallway. He was a good kid who listened well, definitely the sole bright spot from her short-lived marriage. Her ex-husband was a smart and charming college professor who taught comparative studies. Unfortunately, the thing he liked to compare most was married sex to sex on the side.

Nate was practically sleepwalking when he returned from the bathroom. She put him to bed, and he was in dreamland before she left the room.

Jack was alone in the kitchen, enjoying the collage of photographs on the side-by-side refrigerator-freezer doors. It was a veritable time-line of Nate’s life, from birth to third grade, pacifiers to baseball mitts. Some were of Nate alone, but most were of Nate and his mom. They had the same big, hazel eyes, the same smile. Nate was looking more and more like his mother as he grew older, which was a good thing. All ballerinas seemed to have a handsome air about them when up onstage, and Kelsey was one of the truly beautiful ones who didn’t seem to dissolve into skin and bones when you got close.

“Did you see the latest one of you and Nate?”

Jack started at the sound of her voice. Kelsey entered the room, then pointed to a snapshot near the refrigerator door handle. It was Nate, Jack, and a life-size Tigger.

“Wow. I made the fridge,” said Jack.

“No higher place of honor in this house.”

“Like getting a star on Hollywood Boulevard.”

“Well, let’s not get crazy. It’s only Scotch tape and magnets. Today Jack Swyteck, tomorrow Derek Jeter. Know what I mean?”