Body Armor Page 7

  “Why? So he can run away again?”

  The thought made her heart heavy. “You don’t know that’s what he’d do.”

  “Don’t I? I’m a simple man, Anna. When I look at the world, I like to strip it down to its essence. I do the same thing when I look at people. People like Brody. When it came down to it, he took the coward’s way out and left town, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him do that to you again.”

  Anna frowned at him. “He’s not a coward, Frank. That much I know.”

  Frank was quiet then reached across the table and took her hands in his. The move was unexpected, but she didn’t pull away.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe I’m just being selfish. I tend to get that way when I want some thing.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You, babe. It’s always been you. You know that.” He ran his thumb along her knuckles. “We never quite took the way I hoped we would, and I know I wasn’t much of a father to Adam. But maybe we can try again.”

  “Frank, don’t…”

  “My apartment seems so empty without the two of you. I keep thinking that if you give me a chance, maybe we can get it right this time.” He paused. “In fact, I know we can.”

  Anna gently pulled her hands away. She might not love Frank, but she did care for him, and she had no desire to hurt him any more than necessary.

  “You had your chance to get it right last night,” she said softly. “But you wouldn’t even take half a minute to come in and say good-night to Adam. Why would anything be different now?”

  His expression sagged. It obviously hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d made a mistake last night.

  She thought about Brody and Adam making chocolate chip pancakes and could not even imagine such a scene with Frank in the lead. His interest in Adam had been perfunctory at best. A means to an end for him. A promise that had remained unfulfilled.

  The problem hadn’t been that he wasn’t much of a father. It was that he hadn’t even tried to be a father at all.

  “I’m sorry, Frank. I know you mean well, but I just can’t be what you want me to be. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

  Frank did a slow burn. She could see that despite her attempt to be gentle, it hadn’t worked.

  His humiliation was clear.

  She was about to say something, a conciliatory gesture to help ease his pain, when there was a sharp knock on the door and Joe Wilson stuck his head in side.

  Frank didn’t look pleased. “What do you want?”

  “Carpenter’s a wash. I can’t get anything out of him. I say we just book the creep and throw him in a—”

  “Cut him loose,” Frank snapped.

  “What?”

  He looked at Anna, and she knew that he was doing this for her. He got to his feet. “We’re cutting them both loose and calling it self-defense.”

  “But what about—?”

  “We’ve got no evidence to connect either of them to the electronics guy, and unless and until we do, they walk. You got me?”

  Wilson pulled back slightly, jarred by Frank’s abrupt ness, but he didn’t argue.

  “Sure,” he said. “Consider it done.”

  Frank turned to Anna. Softened.

  “You be careful out there, babe. And tell that boyfriend of yours, if he gets you hurt, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  Then he pulled the door open, pushed past Wilson and left the room.

  Chapter Ten

  It was long past dark by the time they got to Anna’s house.

  She had called ahead to her mother, and after a series of disapproving sighs, Mom finally agreed to have dinner waiting for them.

  Sylvia Sanford and Brody once had a terrific relationship. She’d known how much both Owen and Anna had loved him, and the feeling had carried over to her. She’d welcomed Brody as a second son.

  During high school, Brody’s own parents—who both worked for an airline—had traveled a lot, often leaving the seventeen-year-old at home to fend for himself. Brody had no siblings to spend time with, so he’d been lonely inside that big house, and Sylvia often invited him over for dinner.

  This was long after Dad died, and Anna remembered that once the plates were cleared, Mom would always bring out the cards and give the three of them a hopeful look, wanting to play a game of Hearts.

  All Anna and Brody wanted to do was spend time alone, but Brody always obliged Sylvia, sometimes even insisting on a second round when the first was done.

  When they got older and Brody graduated from the Cedarwood Sheriff’s Academy, Mom was in the very front row, smiling and clapping as he received his badge. And when Brody had asked for her daughter’s hand in marriage, Sylvia cried.

  “I wish Walt could be here,” she’d said then pulled him into her arms and hugged him for a full minute.

  Anna had watched them from the top of the stairs, unable to keep from crying herself.

  During the “crazy days”—as Mom often called them—when Brody’s life was ripped apart by finger-pointing and relentless hounding by Internal Affairs investigators, Mom had been one of his staunchest supporters.

  So when Brody had disappeared in the wake of it all, after telling Anna that he “needed to get away for a while,” it had been Mom who defended him. She’d told Anna and Owen that he would be back, to give him the space he needed to heal.

  That space, however, had stretched much wider and longer than any of them had expected. After months of no contact, after the wedding date came and went and they finally realized that Brody wasn’t coming back after all—not anytime soon at least—Mom finally broke down.

  She felt betrayed, she’d told Anna.

  Bewildered and betrayed.

  Brody was, she’d said at the time, dead to her. And after this pronouncement they all began to wonder if perhaps he really was dead. Nobody knew where he’d gone. Owen had had no luck contacting him. And that dull ache they felt in his absence eventually grew more tolerable.

  Adam’s birth and Anna’s marriage to Frank had helped, of course, but like Owen, Sylvia had never particularly liked Frank and his presence in their lives was no substitute for the real thing.

  Bottom line, despite the betrayal, the broken trust, they all still loved Brody, and he was never very far from their hearts and minds.

  They had learned, however, that the line that separated love and hate was a very thin one indeed.

  ANNA KNEW THAT HER mother’s fury was at least equal to her own. So getting her to agree to serve dinner to Brody tonight had been a minor miracle.

  When they got home she remained stoic but civil, even sat down at the table with them. And to Anna’s surprise, she had cooked Brody’s favorite—meat loaf with mashed potatoes and gravy—which led Anna to wonder just how angry her mother really was.

  Maybe the protests had all been for show. Now that the initial shock of his return had been absorbed, perhaps in the wake of their tragedy, Brody’s staunchest supporter was willing to forgive—if not completely forget.

  Anna’s father, who was one of the most well-read men she’d ever known, had once said something to her that she’d always remember. She must have been ten years old at the time, and she had just caught her best friend stealing money out of the piggy bank in her room. The betrayal had been devastating, and she remembered crying in her father’s arms, telling him how much she now hated the girl. Her father, who had been fond of quoting poets and writers and famous politicians, suggested Anna find a place in her heart to forgive her friend.

  When Anna balked, her father shook his head and said, “Without forgiveness, sweetie, there’s no future.” Then he’d tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead and promised her that the sooner she learned to forgive, the faster she’d heal.

  Many years later, Anna found those words—or words very similar—in a book of quotations boxed in the attic, attributed to the Reverend Desmond Tutu.

  Without forgiveness there is no future.


  Seeing them again only reinforced the sentiment behind them, and Anna now wondered if she should take heed.

  Maybe the good reverend—and her father—were on to something.

  THE CONVERSATION AT dinner was stiff but cordial. They stuck to small talk, mostly because they were all too raw to talk about anything else.

  After a while they began to loosen up, lapsing in to reminiscences about their younger years—before the “crazy days” came upon them—when Brody and Owen were playing football at Cedarwood High and Anna was on the cheerleading squad.

  There was a kind of sweet melancholy to the moment, punctuated by knowing glances, and the elephant in the room was the empty chair across the table.

  After a while, Mom finally gave in and nodded to that chair, a broken smile on her face.

  Her voice wavered as she spoke. “He missed you so much, Brody. We all did.”

  Brody nodded absently then spent a long moment staring at the food on his plate.

  When he finally looked up again, he said, “This may be a bit hard for you to swallow, but the Sanford family was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I threw it all away.”

  Without hesitating, Sylvia said, “Neither can we.”

  And suddenly they were all laughing, her words so unexpected yet so true, they found themselves doubled over. It was, Anna thought, a cleansing of the soul. A regeneration of the spirit. A brief but welcome return to what they’d once been.

  As the moment subsided, a small voice said, “Why are you guys laughing?” and they turned to find Adam standing at the foot of the stairs, only half awake and rubbing his eyes.

  Brody took one look at him, broke into a wide smile and patted his lap. “Come here, tiger.”

  To Anna’s surprise, Adam didn’t hesitate. He scooted across the room, climbed into Brody’s lap and snuggled against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Anna felt a hitch in her throat.

  She glanced at her mother and Mom had that knowing look in her eye, the one that told her it was time for some housekeeping. The world wouldn’t be right until Anna had swept all the corners and dusted all the windowsills.

  But Anna wasn’t sure she was up to it just yet. She had to wait for the right moment.

  “I’m hungry,” Adam said, his eyes on all the food.

  Sylvia frowned at him. “You already had your dinner, young man. You’re supposed to be asleep.”

  “How come you guys get to stay up?”

  “That’s a good question,” Brody said, ruffling Adam’s hair. “After the day we’ve had, we should all probably go straight to bed.”

  Adam looked up at him. “Are you gonna sleep in the chair again?”

  Another good question, Anna thought. Now that Santa and his partner were dead, was it still necessary for Brody to keep vigil, or was the threat against her gone?

  They didn’t know exactly what the two thugs had wanted from her and why, or what Owen’s involvement with them had been, and they certainly didn’t know if there were other bad guys in the picture.

  So was she safe now?

  She definitely felt safer with Brody around, but until they had more answers, she doubted she’d be able to completely relax.

  Before they left the sheriff’s office, Frank had made noises about continuing to investigate. He’d even reluctantly agreed that the events of the day may cast new light on Owen’s suicide, but Anna knew from hard experience that Frank’s word could never be completely relied upon.

  “I think,” Sylvia said to her grandson, “that we can probably find a spare bed. Maybe Uncle Owen’s old room.” She turned to Brody. “Would that be all right with you?”

  The offer was not an insignificant one. Mom had just extended the ultimate olive branch, and the look on Brody’s face told Anna that he was both humbled and grateful.

  “More than all right,” he said softly. “I’d be honored.”

  UNLIKE MANY PARENTS after their children leave the nest, Sylvia had not turned her son’s room into a study or TV room or sewing den. She’d kept it pretty much the same as Brody remembered it, complete with posters on the wall, gaming console, TV atop the battered oak desk and the stack of comics piled knee-high in one corner.

  Brody went to the stack, pulled an X-Men off the top and leafed through it, once again remembering the day he’d first met Anna and how she had taken his breath away the moment he saw her.

  As if by magic, she appeared in the doorway carrying fresh sheets and blankets. Laying them atop the desk chair, she crossed to the bed and began stripping away the linen.

  Brody dropped the comic book back on the stack and moved to help her. “You get the rug bunny squared away?”

  “He’s all bundled up with his sheriff’s car in his arms. I swear he’s practically attached to that thing.”

  Brody smiled. “I’ve gotta give you credit, kiddo. You and Frank really did something special there.”

  Anna smiled wistfully. “Me and Frank.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say something more then stopped herself. Her eyes clouded for a few brief seconds, then she seemed to shake away whatever it was that was bothering her. Brody knew her and Frank’s relationship was none of his business. He wasn’t sure why he’d even asked her before. He didn’t really want to know about it.

  Bundling the soiled sheets, Anna dropped them to the floor then reached past Brody for the fresh ones.

  Heat radiated off her skin, and the close proximity of her body was just too much to resist.

  He impulsively caught her waist in his arms, turning her toward him, looking into the face he’d cherished since he was seventeen.

  She was startled by the move, but she didn’t seem to mind. They stood there, saying nothing, the air between them charged with electricity. Brody considered that he might be risking a slap to the face, but he didn’t care. He pulled her close, pressed his lips to hers—and they didn’t tighten, didn’t resist.

  She seemed to need this as much as he did.

  The kiss felt so familiar, so right, that he realized it was as unique to her as a fingerprint of a wanted man. No woman he had kissed before or since felt the same. The softness of her lips, the scent of her breath, the feel of her tongue against his…

  They were all distinctly Anna.

  His Anna.

  “Mommy?”

  They abruptly broke away from each other. Adam stood in the doorway, once again rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to have noticed what they were up to.

  “I can’t sleep,” he said.

  Embarrassed, Anna involuntarily fluffed her hair and straightened her clothes then started toward her son. “I’ll read you a story.”

  Brody caught her arm.

  “No,” he said. “Let me do it.” He looked at Adam. “Would that be okay with you, champ?”

  The boy’s face lit up. “Yeah! Can we read X-Men?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Grabbing the comic book from atop the stack, he slipped past Anna—their gazes connecting—and followed Adam to his room.

  Several minutes later, Anna appeared in Adam’s doorway and said good-night. Brody saw the faraway look in her eyes and knew that the moment between them had passed. She’d had time to think about what just happened and decided it was a mistake.

  At least that’s what he thought he saw. He wasn’t a mind reader.

  Maybe she was just sad.

  There was a lot of that going around these days.

  Chapter Eleven

  The men in the sedan had been watching the house for over two hours.

  They’d seen lights go on and off, first downstairs, then upstairs, and they knew they were witnessing the routine of a household getting ready for bed.

  “None of this makes any sense,” the passenger said. “We should’ve done this days ago.”

  “We shouldn’t be having to do this at all,” the driver told him. “If Chercover and Sakey had done t
heir jobs, we’d have that button by now.”

  “And what makes you think she’s got it?”

  “Because I saw it in the pipsqueak’s eyes.”

  “Whose eyes? Sanford’s?”

  The driver nodded. “He wasn’t cooperating. It didn’t seem to even faze him that I was about to put a bullet in him, like he’d made his peace with God or something. But right before I pulled the trigger, I asked him if he’d given it to her and he kept shaking his head, telling me ‘no, no’—but I could see in his eyes he was lying.”

  “And that’s what you’re going on? His eyes?”

  “Trust me,” the driver said. “She’s got it and she knows it, and it’s hidden somewhere in that house.”

  “It better be. It’s almost Christmas Eve—and you know what that means.”

  “We’ll make it. Don’t you worry.”

  “Tell that to Chercover and Sakey.”

  “Chercover and Sakey were cowboys. Tearing up Sanford’s apartment, tossing Caldwell in the river, making that ridiculous play in the parking lot. All that trouble and they wound up dead. I told them we needed to finesse this thing, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “Like you finessed it with Sanford?”

  The driver said nothing. Just turned and looked at the other man.

  The passenger held his hands up. “I’m just sayin’. If you’d let me have a crack at him, I would’ve gotten him to talk.”

  The driver shook his head. “Not without consequences. If he’d had any suspicious marks on his body, that would’ve opened up a whole new kettle of worms. And we can’t afford that.”

  “Yeah? What do we do when they figure out who Chercover and Sakey really are?”

  “It’ll be long past party time by then,” the driver said, “and we’ll be very rich men.”

  “So you keep tellin’ me.”

  “You don’t believe me? I’ve already got a buyer lined up ready to drop two mil on those schematics. If I can find another bidder, we can name our price.”

  “Not if we don’t get that button.” He gestured toward the house. “And I don’t relish stumbling around in the dark, looking for a needle in a haystack. Especially when I’m not sure the needle’s even in the haystack.”