Having been warned more than once, Grant kept his insensitive label to himself and silently approached the group, removing his notepad and pencil as he walked. A sheet was over the body but the medical examiner lifted it as Grant reached his side. The face beneath the plastic was young. Too young to be so dead.
Standing nearby, Parker wiped his forehead. In his younger years, he’d been a full-back at UCLA. Now he was just plain fat, two-fifty if not more. The crazy heat wave they were having was about to do him in. He waved his hand toward the body. “You know him?”
Grant started to say no, then he kneeled and looked closer. “Yeah,” he said. “I do know him. That’s Tasha McKindrick’s boy. I think they call him Poppy.”
Parker yelled for one of the uniforms while Grant continued to stare. The boy couldn’t have been over ten because his mother was only twenty-four. Grant had arrested her last year for selling drugs. They lived in one of the nearby projects with two younger children but no dad. Grant pulled the cover back over the boy’s face and stood.
His stare lingering on the draped form at his feet, he thought of Kevin.
“What are we doing to our kids?” he muttered under his breath. “For God’s sake, what in the hell are we doing?”
“What are you doing talking to yourself again? You promised me you’d given that up.”
Grant raised his eyes to the woman who’d walked up beside him, her husky voice penetrating the gloomy fog of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard her approach, but that’s how Holly Hitchens did things. She snuck up on you, then pounced. They’d dated before he’d married Vicki and he had the scars to prove it. She was a hell of a cop, though.
“I make a lot of promises I don’t keep.” His eyes met hers and he shrugged. “You know how that goes….”
“I’m afraid I do. You always were lousy in that department, Corbin.” Her answer was pure Holly but her voice sounded strained. Then he realized she wasn’t looking him in the eye. Her gaze was usually so direct it hurt.
“What’s up?” He made his voice casual and ignored the warning bells going off inside his head.
She took a deep breath and met his eyes. For a second he thought he saw pity in her gaze but that didn’t make sense.
“I have some bad news, Grant.”
Her use of his first name threw him even more. She’d always called him Corbin, even when they’d been lovers.
He tensed and she spoke again.
“Division just called looking for you and I told them you were here. They gave me a message to pass on. It’s not good.”
“What is it?” he asked levelly.
“Something’s happened to Vicki. She…had some kind of accident down in Courage Bay.”
“A car wreck?”
“No, it happened at her home, but I don’t have any more details.”
“But she didn’t live in Courage Bay—”
“That’s all they said. That she’d been there, in her house, and something fell on her.”
“Is she okay?”
“No, Grant, she’s not okay.” Holly put her fingers on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, but she’s dead.”
Grant stared dumbly at the redhead, her words incomprehensible. Then something snapped in his hand. He looked down and opened his fist. The pencil he’d been holding was in two pieces.
Holly squeezed his arm. “There’s more.”
As a cop, he’d seen things that would test the strongest stomach but Grant had never been affected. When Holly spoke, though, the ground beneath him shifted.
“Kevin?” he managed to get out.
“He was hurt, too. He’s in the hospital at Courage Bay. They said he’s not injured too seriously but—”
Grant didn’t hear the rest. He was already running for his car.
ANDREA DECIDED her guardian angel must be working overtime. First, when she’d dashed back inside the house, she’d found Vicki’s address book in the kitchen and had been able to contact Grant Corbin’s office. Now, speeding to catch up with the ambulance, it seemed her luck was holding. Using the mobile phone she’d borrowed from Alex, Andrea released a sigh of relief when her father answered. Nine times out of ten, her mother was the one who picked up first, and Andrea wouldn’t have been able to give her the news.
A retired Navy man, Jack Hunt was the rock of the family. The rest of them, including Karen, Andrea and Vicki’s mother, depended on him. He started speaking before Andrea could say anything.
“Your mother’s out shopping again,” he said. “I swear, Andrea, I think she’s determined to spend every dime I make! As far as an inheritance goes, forget about it. I know you won’t need any help, but Vicki’s another story. She’s never been able to hold down a decent job and—”
“Dad… Dad, hold up for a minute, okay? I…I need to talk to you.”
He fell silent and Andrea told him what had happened. By the time she finished, she was crying, but he reacted as she’d expected. Stoic and in control. Only his voice gave him away and no one other than Andrea would have caught that.
“I’ll find your mother,” he said hollowly. “We’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we can.”
“We’re pulling in right now,” she said. “Look for me in the emergency room.”
Tossing the phone aside, she parked her Jeep and jumped out. Just as she reached the entrance, the ambulance driver wheeled Kevin’s gurney through the E.R. doors at full speed. One of the trauma nurses, Jackie Kellison, ran to meet them, the newest E.R. resident, Amy Sherwood, right beside her.
Andrea explained the accident as the nurse and doctor rolled the child into one of the examining rooms. Without his mother or father present, Andrea had no legal basis to sign for his care but in Courage Bay, lives counted more than the rules.
“Tell me where it hurts, Kevin.” Dr. Sherwood pressed her fingers against his belly while glancing down at his leg. When he didn’t answer, she looked at him and repeated her question. When he still said nothing, she looked at Andrea.
“He’s got some…communication issues.” Andrea searched her rattled brain for the term Vicki had used and finally came up with it. “His mother said the condition’s called ‘selective mutism.’”
The resident nodded once, then without missing a step, continued her examination, talking to Kevin all the while as if she fully expected him to answer.
She was still poking and prodding when Andrea’s parents bustled into the room.
Karen Hunt’s slim figure and blond highlights usually hid her real age of sixty, but the news of Vicki’s accident had added years. Her eyes were frantic and wild, her face pale and lined. Even her clothing was disheveled—she’d clearly changed before they’d rushed to the hospital and her blouse was misbuttoned.
She caught Andrea’s eye and shook her head minutely, a silent understanding passing between mother and daughter. This wasn’t the place for them to cry and console each other. Not in front of Kevin. For his sake, they had to stay in control of themselves. Nothing meant more than him right now, including their own grief.
Andrea acknowledged the message then moved away from the bed so they could get closer. Her mother grabbed Kevin’s fingers and began to talk to him softly, Jack Hunt going to the other side of the bed to place a beefy hand on the child’s shoulder.
Andrea slipped into the corridor, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
GRANT