She relinquished the bag with a sigh. “Christopher, this is important, okay? I understand that things aren’t the way you want them to be right now, but you can’t come up with solutions like this. It’s not acceptable.”
He opened his mouth to argue but she held up her hand and stopped him. “Tomorrow we’ll sit down and discuss this some more and I’ll decide how I’m going to handle it. I’m going to visit with your teachers, too. At the very least, you’re grounded until further notice.”
He was protesting before she even finished speaking. “That’s so not right—”
“No!” She spoke louder than she intended and he fell silent. She shook the report in her hand. “Forging my signature like this is what’s not right, and you’re going to suffer the consequences. Now go to your room and start your homework.”
His backpack bouncing behind him, he ran out of the living room and pounded up the stairs. Maria dropped to the couch and covered her face with her hands.
THE PHONE RANG shortly after eight. Maria pulled off her reading glasses and reached across her desk to answer it. She’d been going over Ryan Lukas’s report one more time, but she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t really paying attention; she was thinking instead about Christopher and wondering where she’d gone so wrong. What kind of psychologist was she if she couldn’t even control her own kid?
“Maria? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Lena McKinney’s voice reached through the fog of Maria’s thoughts and brought her back to the present. Their relationship had started out as a professional one, but it had slowly evolved into a more personal connection and Maria was glad. She admired Lena tremendously; anyone who could manage the kind of men she did possessed more psychological skills than Maria.
“No, no. I was just thinking, that’s all.”
Lena chuckled. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It can be, then again, who knows?” She rubbed her eyes wearily and spoke. “What’s up?”
“Well, two things, actually. I’ll give you the easy one first.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I think you can handle it. I wanted to remind you about the open house next week. You’re still coming, aren’t you? To Angel’s Attic?”
Maria drew a blank, then Lena’s words registered. She and Lena both volunteered at the local women’s shelter. Always short on funds, the home for abused women and children ran a secondhand store called Angel’s Attic but it never had enough money. To supplement the budget, a buffet dinner and auction had been planned. “Oh my gosh, the benefit! That’s next week?”
“Monday night. It’ll be at the shelter. Starts at six and everyone’s included. You can bring Chris.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Things have been so nutty around here, I had completely forgotten.”
“No problem…now for the second reason I called.” Lena paused for a moment as if gathering herself. “I wanted to know how it went with Ryan today. I’ve been worried.”
Maria remembered his angry eyes. “Well, he wasn’t happy. He thinks the leave is going to ruin his career.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’ll ruin his career if he keeps going like he has been.”
“I tried to explain that, but he wasn’t buying. He’s in complete denial about everything.” Maria twirled her glasses thoughtfully. “When you called and set up his initial appointment you mentioned something about the way he approached his job. I can’t remember exactly what you said then, but I have a feeling it was important. Can you tell me again?”
“You probably don’t remember because I didn’t know how to explain it. It might not have even made sense,” Lena answered. “The only thing I can say is that he does his job with perfection. Too much perfection.”
“He’s too perfect?”
“He’s like a robot. He hits the target every time.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Yeah,” Lena said softly. “It is. A good sniper depends on more than perfect aim. And until Ginny died, Ryan had it all—compassion, intelligence, insight—and excellent shooting. Now all he’s got is his steady hand. That bothers me.”
“He’s in a lot of pain.”
“I understand that, I really do. I knew Ginny, and I saw them together…but he’s too important to the team for me to let this pass. The decisions he makes are significant. People’s lives hang in the balance.” Lena’s voice lost the sympathy it’d held and hardened into resolve. “You’ve got a challenge in front of you, Maria, and it’s not one I envy. But something’s got to be done about him and you’re our only hope. I have to have a thinking, feeling man behind that gun, not just a machine.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE SAND was rock hard. It scoured his bare feet as he ran blindly down the beach in the midnight darkness. Anyone else would have needed more than the water’s phosphorescence to guide him, but Ryan Lukas had made this trip once a day—sometimes twice when things were really bad—for the past eighteen months; he had the route memorized. He required nothing but time. He pounded down the shore in silence, his breath contained, like everything else, in the tight rhythm he allowed himself. Forty-five minutes later, the final pier loomed, a blacker shadow. He made a wide turn and headed back, his toes sinking into the softer, wetter area that marked the edge of the surf.
Usually when he ran, his mind emptied. He ran for that very reason. Only when his body was in movement was he able to find a certain kind of peace. It wasn’t the ordinary calmness he’d known and taken for granted before but it was as close as he could get to the feeling and still be awake. For the most part, he lived outside his body. He went to work, came home, cooked his dinner…did all the things he had to without any of them registering. Only when he ran did he feel as he once had. Tonight, even that eluded him and he cursed in the darkness.
But he went on just the same.
His heart thundering, he reached the lights that marked the deck of the house he rented, right behind the dunes. He didn’t think of it as home. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It was simply the place where he slept and ate when he wasn’t at work. His gaze slid sideways toward the patio and he cursed.
As always, the dog was waiting. A full-grown German shepherd, he had the patience of a stone statue and the eyes of a sad saint. He tracked Ryan’s progress, but his stare was the only part of him that moved. He didn’t have a name because Ryan hadn’t given him one. When he got up every morning, the dog would be in the same spot in the kitchen. By the back door. Ryan would let him out and ten minutes later, he’d always return.
Ryan hated the animal. Each day, he vowed that day would be the last. He’d take the dog to the pound and forget about him. It never seemed to happen, though. Instead, Ryan would fling some kibble into the bowl in the corner then wash and fill a second one with fresh water. With quiet dignity, the animal would accept the offerings then reposition himself by the door for the rest of the day. On the rare occasions when Ryan was in the house for any length of time, the shepherd was his shadow, a silent, black presence that glided through the emptiness, always near but never touching.
Ginny had given the dog to Ryan for his birthday. The day before she’d