Chapter 9: : Chapter 9

By noon the next day, the Littlefield brothers contracted the bathroom job—which would include new lighting, new faucets, double sinks, a tub/shower combo, and a pair of floating shelves. They installed the three interior doors while talking football with the man of the house—a rabid Ravens fan—who hobbled around with his cane and stabilizing boot.

After examining the work, Bill Haver shook his head. “Well, damn it all.”

“Is there a problem?” Nash asked him.

“She was right. They look good. And now she’s going to come home, take a look. She’s gonna say: Bill, these new doors make the rest look bad. We gotta do the rest now. I know that woman,” he said with another head shake. “Been married forty-eight years, so I know that woman. She’s gonna want the closet doors switched out, and all the rest. And she’s gonna want them before Christmas.”

He shook his head again. “I know that woman.”

“I bet she’d be happy if she came home and you told her we’d have them in next week.” Theo added a flash of grin.

“Yeah, she would.” Now Bill smirked. “I’m going to beat her to the punch and tell her I came up with it, and got you going on it. So, best do a count and measure then.”

He opened and closed one of the new doors, nodded. “You boys do good work. I’ll write you a check.”

From there they moved on to fix a leaky faucet for Pink Hair and Freckles. No charge.

“I’m starving,” Theo announced when they walked back outside.

“Yeah, I could eat. Why don’t we grab a burger, and I’ll order the doors and hardware for Bill and Rita? With any luck Mrs. Moose will’ve settled on what she’s after, and we can pick it all up at once.”

“We did a good morning’s work. And this afternoon? More demo.”

“That downstairs john’s a gut job.”

“And what’s more fun than a gut job?” Theo asked, then answered. “Not much. Oh, wow, there she is! She’s coming out of High Country Kitchen.”

Nash didn’t have to ask who, not with the dazzled look in his brother’s eyes.

She was a beauty with a sparkly black cap over a long fall of golden-brown hair, a black coat open to a just-below-the-knee red dress paired with tall black boots.

She had a purse the size of a baby elephant on one shoulder, and a large take-out bag in her other hand.

When she spotted Theo, she smiled, and Nash imagined his brother’s heart rate spiked through the roof.

“Well, hi,” she said.

“Hi. Thanks again for the help yesterday. We got the tree. Oh, this is my brother. Nash, this is Drea.”

“Nice to meet you.” She held out a gloved hand.

“You, too. You work for All the Rest. We’ll be doing some work for them.”

“So my father told me.”

“Your father?”

She smiled back at Theo again. “Dean Cooper. My father. He said you’d already started demo on the old Parker place. I guess that makes it the new Littlefield place.”

Nash knew his job as wingman was to make nice and disappear.

“It’ll take a while before much of anything looks new. I’ve got to place that order,” he said to Theo. “See you inside. Good to meet you, Drea. Give our best to your father.”

“I will. I won’t hold you up,” she said to Theo as Nash walked down to the restaurant. “And I have to get this food to the hungry horde at the office.”

“Right, but … Could I buy you a cup of coffee sometime?”

“Coffee?”

“Or dinner. Maybe a trip to Barbados.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “I’ve never been there. Sounds tempting, but…”

“Are you with someone? I should’ve asked that first.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t say you could buy me dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at By the Lake. Seven o’clock.”

Everything in him sang, joyfully.

“Great. Where is it?”

She passed him the take-out bag, then took a map and a marker out of her purse, and outlined the route.

“Great,” he said again, and pocketed the map. “I could carry these up for you.”

“That’s all right.” She took the bag back. “I’ve got it. See you tonight.”

He watched her walk away, then floated into the restaurant on puffy white clouds.

Nash already had a table, and worked on his phone.

“I’ve got a date with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Quick work. I ordered already—burgers, fries, Cokes. You usually go for the cuties. Like Pink Hair and Freckles. The bouncy ones.”

“Bouncy?”

“Yeah, the kind that see a friend, squeal.” Nash mimed bouncing a ball on the table. “Bounce, bounce, bounce. This one strikes as smooth.”

“I don’t know what it is. It’s like getting hit by lightning. I like it. I’m taking her to dinner tonight.”

“Just some brotherly advice? Hold off on the proposal, at least until dessert.”

On top of the world, Theo flashed a grin at the server when she brought their Cokes. “Thanks. We did a good morning’s work, got a gut job coming, and I’ve got a date with Dreamy Drea.

“I’m having a real good day.”

When their mother mentioned the date, Sloan began to fret. She’d talked herself out of digging into the Littlefields, and now regretted it.

She spent an hour after dinner doing just that. Not through official channels, but you could find out a lot through other means.

What she found out had her fretting more, then waiting downstairs while her parents watched TV in their bedroom until she saw the headlights.

At eleven-twenty-three.

She stepped outside into the rush of night air, and called her sister.

“Sloan? What’re you doing? Is something wrong?”

“You tell me. Come in here.”

She’d done some fancy fishtail braid with her hair, Sloan noted. And wore heels—high ones—with a short, snug black dress.

“What are you thinking?” Sloan demanded.

“What are you thinking?” When she stepped inside, Drea loosened the scarf around her neck. “You didn’t actually wait up for me?”

Because the amusement in her sister’s voice burned, Sloan ignored it. “You went out with someone you don’t even know.”

“Sloan, here’s a little clue. The point of dating is to get to know someone.”

“Did you know he’s a lawyer? What’s a New York lawyer doing in Heron’s Rest hammering nails?”

“Starting a business with his brother.” The amusement vanished like smoke. “You did not run a background check on Theo.”

“Not an official one. I can google some stranger who’s after my sister.”

“You know, I only had one glass of wine with dinner since I was driving. I’m about to have another.”

She clipped her way back to the kitchen to pour one. “I had a really good time,” she added as Sloan came after her, more slowly. “A nice dinner with an interesting, attractive man. So what?”

“Did you know they’re loaded? I mean seriously loaded?”

“He didn’t mention it, but I gleaned, since he was wearing Hugo Boss, knew his wines, got his law degree from Columbia, and grew up in a swanky area of Connecticut.

“Want some?” Drea held up the wine bottle.

“No. Listen—”

“No, you listen first. You’re working yourself up over me going to dinner with someone you can’t pin down. I’m torn between being really pissed off and amused. I’m going to take the middle ground there. I like him. I liked talking with him. I liked finding out he’s a crazy fan of the Marvel Universe. You know how I feel about Captain America.”

“You were going to marry him.”

“Since, regretfully, that’s not going to happen, I enjoyed spending a few hours with a very attractive man. And?” She jabbed out a finger. “That’s attractive on more than the physical, where he gets tops marks. I understand his tight bond with his brother, admire his work ethic and their mutual ambitions for their business.”

“His brother’s some Wall Street honcho.”

“Not anymore.”

“They’re like fourth-generation rich. No, wealthy. Wealthy’s a step up from rich. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“This is what they want. He didn’t spend the whole time talking about himself, which is a major point in his favor. But I got enough. Family pressure’s my opinion. He didn’t talk about his parents much, but when he did it was ‘he,’ ‘she,’ ‘they.’ Not ‘my mom,’ ‘my dad.’”

“They’re divorced.”

“I gleaned that, too. I didn’t push there because it’s clearly a sore spot. He loves it here.”

“He’s barely unpacked.”

“They vacationed here when they were younger. Once at least, from what I got. It’s why Nash bought the house, wanted to start the business here. And Theo, in his words, horned his way in. Nash is his family, and he wanted his family. He wanted a chance to build his own, or help build their own. I admire that.”

“You’ve already got a thing going.” Sloan pointed at her. “I know you. One date, and you’ve got a thing going.”

“He’s the first man I’ve had dinner with in … I can’t remember, who started a thing going. So deal with it. We’re going kayaking Sunday afternoon.

“Now I’m going to bed. We’ve got a lot of weekenders coming in.”

She walked toward the mudroom door, paused. “I could tell you to mind your own business, then you’d say that I’m your sister, so your business. And round and round. Instead, I’ll remind you you’re not the only Cooper who can take care of herself.”

She paused another moment. “And I’ll add he’s an excellent kisser.”

Sloan just sighed as she heard the outside door open, close. “Of course he is.”

She had her follow-up with Dr. Vincenti, and clung to the bright spot. She was cleared to drive again. Short distances for now, but at least she’d be mobile.

Of course, her car remained in Annapolis, and since work stayed off the table, no access to her official vehicle.

But she could borrow her mother’s car, her father’s truck.

The rest seemed like a long road of tiny steps.

She promised herself she’d take one the next day. Borrow the car, drive into town. She’d walk, do some Christmas shopping that wasn’t desperate online purchases.

She’d see people, talk to people.

“I know you’re a little disappointed,” Elsie said as they drove home.

“Not really. Honestly, not really. And not at all surprised.”

“He gave you good marks—on everything but the weight.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are. I’m going to hitch a ride to work with Drea tomorrow and leave you the car.”

She didn’t even have to ask. “Thanks. I’d really like to drive into town, do some shopping.”

“I’m a homebody, to the bone, but if I’d been stuck all this time the way you have, I’d go stir-crazy. You hardly ever complain.”

“Oh, you don’t hear inside my head. It’s an endless bitch fest.”

“And you can bitch out loud to me whenever you want. I wish you would.”

Sloan laughed. “You want me to bitch?”

“Yes, I do. Start now.”

“Okay, here’s a list. I miss being able to roll out of bed, take a run or hit the gym before work. And I miss work. I miss the purpose. I miss feeling strong. I knew that was important to me, but not how important until I lost it. I miss being able to go out at night when I feel like it, meet up with friend, or a date. I miss sex. I miss looking in the mirror and thinking: Well, you look pretty hot today, Cooper. Go get ’em.”

She glanced over. “Too much?”

“Not even close.”

“Okay. I miss feeling useful. The job gives me that. Every day, I felt useful.”

“That would be the worst part. Not to feel useful. But you are and have been.” Reaching over, Elsie rubbed a hand on Sloan’s arm. “I can wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but you’ve been so useful to your dad and me.”

“Helping with the dishes? Peeling vegetables?”

“No. We’ve had this time with you. We’ve been able to watch you come back over these weeks. You’ve let us see how hard you try. I never wanted you to join the NRP.”

“But…” Shock struck and spread. “You never said. Ever. You always supported me there.”

“Supporting my daughter in what she wants doesn’t mean it’s what I wanted for her. My girl wearing a gun on her hip every day? No, not at all what I wanted, and I can’t count the number of times I had to stop myself from trying to push you in another direction. But if I had, I knew I could push you away. I’d never risk that.”

“It’s been hard on you.” Shifting, she studied her mother’s profile. “I didn’t know, I never thought.”

“Sometimes—and I wouldn’t have wanted you to know. But having these weeks, watching you try, seeing how hard you’ll work to get back? It’s changed my mind. It’s not just what you wanted to do, but what you were meant to do. So now, I want it for you, too.”

She shot Sloan a smile. “So you’ve been very useful. And by Christmas? You’ll be that much closer.”

“I should bitch out loud more often.”

“Are you up to it if I get off in town, catch that ride later? You can drive yourself home.”

“I will be. Mom.” She had to stop and take a breath as emotion swamped her. “God, you always know just the right thing.”

“Not always. But this way, we can both feel useful.”

Twenty minutes later, Sloan sat behind the wheel. Maybe it was silly, she admitted, but the act of driving a car, even for a few miles, made her feel better.

One more step, she thought as she turned up the radio and navigated the roads. Everything looked bright and sparkling, the sheer, cold blue of the sky, the deep green pines with the carpet of snow at their feet. The white-smothered peaks shining in the mirror of the lake.

When she caught sight of a hawk, she pulled over just to watch it circle against that pristine sky.

She’d mark today as a turning point, she told herself as she drove on. She’d consider it the end of the beginning.

When she got home, she pulled into the garage. Instead of going through its mudroom entrance, she went back outside. After a four-hour round trip, she could—and should—walk.

This time she didn’t push for steps, but studied the hills, the way they rose up, the way they swam in the lake. She watched the birds, listened to their calls. She spotted deer tracks in the snow.

And realized when she stopped, she’d passed her last mark.

Backtracking, she counted.

Fourteen steps more.

After pumping a fist, she walked home.

Tired, she thought, taking stock. But not exhausted, not really shaky.

Inside, she lit a fire, then started to sit down, update her spreadsheet. Then remembered her low marks on weight gain, so went to the kitchen instead.

She made herself a grilled cheese sandwich, then took it to the living room and ate while she updated. Then gave herself a mental pat on the back when she managed to eat it all.

She washed the pan, then accepted she needed to sit awhile. Maybe even take a nap.

She sat, picked up her crocheting because she’d discovered it not only gave her something to do but lulled her.

She’d managed a few stitches on her newest project when someone knocked on the door.

Assuming delivery, she nearly ignored it, then made herself get up and answer.

“Cap!”

She found herself enveloped in a hug by a man who smelled like the forest.

“Let me have a look at you.”

“Come in first. Let me get your coat.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it. I know the rules.”

The visit brightened her day a little more.

At six-five, her father’s oldest friend, Travis Hamm, hung his parka in the closet, tucked his uniform hat in with it.

Then stood, giving her a long study out of eyes the color of faded denim.

“You cut off your hair.”

“Impulse. I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, you’re looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“I sure hope so. Sit down. I’ll get you coffee.”

“No, you sit, too. I’ve already had a gallon of it today. Where’s Mop?”

“He’s job dog today. Mom had to drive me down to Hagerstown for my two-week follow-up, and Dad decided to take him along.”

“How’d that go, the follow-up?”

“Not bad.”

He sat, stretched out endless legs, crossed his big feet at their booted ankles. “Your dad told me what happened on Thanksgiving. I was sorry to hear it.”

“It’s healing up. I’m healing up. Hey, if I don’t screw anything up, I can start using five-pound weights next week. I’m nearly up to a mile and a half round trip on walks outside.

“And I’ve crocheted two scarves. Now I’m making this.”

She held up a long strip of soft white wool.

“What is it?”

“It’s going to be a baby blanket.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Got something to tell me?”

She laughed, and that still hurt a little. “Not for me. You know Joel—he and Sari are having a baby next spring.”

“Good for them. Good for you, too.”

“I’ve been bored brainless, Cap. Fighting off the bitchy with it. This helps with both. Tell me what’s happening, what you’ve got going. I was thinking of calling and asking you about the Janet Anderson investigation.”

“I wish I had good news on that. Or any, really. We assisted in the search, but it’s not our case. I’ve gotten updates. No trace of her. Nothing. The family’s put up a reward. Twenty-five thousand for bringing her home. They’ve done interviews, made statements pleading for whoever took her—and there’s no doubt that’s what happened at this point—to let her go.”

“I’ve followed what I can. The husband looks sick, devastated.”

“They were married just over a year, together for three. Saved up, bought a nice little house. Everybody who knew them—family, friends, neighbors, coworkers—says they were crazy about each other. No pissed-off exes on either side, no trouble, no nothing.

“She drove to the grocery store. The investigator figured she went for butter because she had a recipe out and didn’t have enough in stock. And nobody saw a damn thing.”

“Somebody’s holding her, sold her, or she’s already dead.”

His eyes on Sloan’s, Travis nodded. “That’s the hard truth. I wish I could say different.”

“What about other abductions in the area? Her age group?”

He smiled at her. “Can’t stop, can you?”

“I guess not. And it happened when I was down. It keeps pulling at me.”

“Nothing that hits the notes, no. As it happens, I came to see you, and also to talk to you about work.”

“Oh? Something I can help with while I’m on the DL?”

“No, but something maybe when you’re off it. I understand why you went where you went, and I know you’ve done good work there. If you’d consider a change, I could use you.”

“Oh. Cap.”

He held up a hand. “I don’t want to pressure you, and I won’t. I will ask you to think about it. You know Sergeant Masters.”

“Sure.”

“He put in his papers. He’s got thirty in, and he’s buying an RV. He and he wife want to hit the road, travel the country.”

“Really?”

“Their kids are grown. One out in Montana, another up in Michigan. They plan to take off, head south for a long vacation starting the first of February. I need another good officer. I need another sergeant.”

“I’m a corporal.”

“I can offer you your next chevron. You’ve earned it. It’s a big change. I just want you to think about it. You decide you’re not interested, no harm, no foul. I don’t need to know either way until after the first of the year.”

“The first of the year,” she murmured. Everything was next year. “You really caught me off guard with this.”

“I expect I did. I haven’t said anything to your dad about it. This is just you and me. Mull it over.”

“I will. Of course I will.”

“I’m not offering this because you’re family to me, I want that clear between us. I’ve kept tabs on you since you joined the department—because you’re family. You’re good police. Smart, capable, and damn well dedicated. I wouldn’t make this offer to anyone who didn’t meet those standards.”

He pushed to his feet. “Now, I’ve got to get back. If you have any questions about this, you just give me a call.”

“I’m so thrown off, I can’t think of any.”

“I bet you will,” he said, and when she rose, hugged her again. “It’s good to see you looking more like Sloan, even with the new hair.”

He gave her a light pat, then got his coat, fit on his hat. “No pressure. I mean that.”

“Okay, and I will mull it over. It’s a lot to take in.”

Since she couldn’t think of anything else, Sloan sat down and let it all roll over her.

Normally, she’d take a long walk to think it through, but that was too big a physical push. Instead, she went with another of her go-to methods. She opened her laptop and began lists pros and cons.

Number one pro, the promotion. Who knew how long it might take her to make sergeant in her current unit after two months’ medical leave?

Number one con, leaving her current unit—and most especially Joel.

The lists grew on both sides until she realized she’d started to argue with herself.

Putting that aside, she texted Travis.

I do have some questions. If it’s all right with you, I’ll write them out in an email so you can answer when you’ve got the time.

His answer came back in under two minutes. (Another on the pro side.)

That’ll work.

Then she had to debate whether to address him in the email as Travis or Captain. (One for the con side.)

Stick with Cap, she told herself.

Which explained why he’d brought it to her now, she thought. There would be a vacancy in February, and she could fill it.

She listed them, and ended the email with another note of appreciation for his confidence in her.

When she sent it, she noted the time. And realized she’d been awake and active for hours.

Not a single nap!

Doing a mental check, she found she didn’t feel the physical drag that meant she needed one.

Her parents would be home in a while, so she’d do something wild.

She’d make dinner.

In the kitchen, she checked for ingredients, supplies. She’d never known her parents not to be prepared, and wasn’t disappointed.

Taking out a large bag of frozen red sauce, she got to work.

It felt good to do something productive. Something not just for herself, for her recovery. For company, she switched on the TV.

When she had to sit down, she didn’t bitch at herself. She just sat, sipped some water, watched a pretty, perky woman with amazing red hair transform a very sad main suite into a calm and stylish oasis.

“Nice job, Red,” Sloan said, then got up to set the table before texting her sister.

Come in when you bring Mom home.

Okay. Why?

For me to know, you to find out.

Fine. Leaving in about twenty.

“Perfect.” Sloan signaled her acceptance with a thumbs-up emoji, then got back to it.

A half hour later when they came, she had a bottle of good Chianti breathing, wineglasses out, and the meal ready.

Elsie took one look at the kitchen, another longer one at Sloan. “You made dinner.”

“Well, you’d already made the sauce and the bread. I just defrosted them. It’s Italian night at the Coopers’. Lasagna, also known as Sloan’s Kickasserole, insalata mista, and garlic bread.”

“Smells good, looks good.” Drea accepted a glass of wine. “You’re feeling feisty tonight.”

“Why not? I got a doing-good from the doctor, drove a car again, walked fourteen—count them—additional steps, didn’t fall asleep on the couch. Oh, and Travis stopped by. It was good to see him. When do we expect Dad?”

“He should be on his way.” Elsie walked over to take a good look at the lasagna. “This looks just right, Sloan. Thanks.”

“You’ve all been taking care of me, and doing a reasonably good job of pretending not to be taking care of me. Tonight, table’s turned.”

“And a pretty job of setting that table. Why don’t we all sit down and enjoy this wine?”

“See?” Sloan tapped a finger in the air at Elsie. “Taking care of me, pretending not to. But sitting down works.”