All Fall Down

Melanie shuddered, remembering her terror, the way she had second-guessed her every decision. Her ex-husband was a prominent lawyer, a partner in one of Charlotte’s top firms. He could have wrested custody away from her without even breaking a sweat—he still could. As it was, he had pulled strings and gotten her application to the CMPD academy denied.

She had left him anyway. For herself. And Casey. She hadn’t been the person Stan needed or wanted, though for a long time she had tried to mold herself into that woman. One who needed a man to lean on, one who was satisfied to sit back and let her husband call the shots while she tended to house and home. She had failed miserably. And in the process had become a person she had neither known nor liked.

Their marriage had become a battleground. And a battleground had been no place to raise a child.

“You can do it,” she said again, fiercely. “I know you can, Mia.”

Mia shook her head, her expression defeated. “I wish I were like you. But I’m not.”

Melanie drew her sister into her arms and held her tightly. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this. I’ll get you through this. I promise.”

6

When Melanie and Casey arrived home an hour and a half later, after a quick stop for fast food, they found Ashley waiting for them. Melanie wasn’t surprised to see her. A drug company rep, her territory the Carolinas, she often dropped by Melanie’s on her way back into town.

“Look who’s here, Casey,” Melanie said, drawing to a stop in the driveway. “Aunt Ashley.”

McDonald’s Kid’s Meal forgotten, the child bolted out of the car the moment Melanie got his safety buckle undone. “Aunt Ashley! Look what I got from Aunt Mia! A megaman!”

Melanie smiled as she watched her son launch himself into her sister’s outstretched arms. Her sisters had always been the most important people in her life and their love for Casey warmed her heart.

Melanie collected her purse and the Kid’s Meal, then crossed to the two. “Hey, sis, have a productive trip?”

Ashley lifted Casey, propping him on her hip, then turned to Melanie. She smiled. “You know pharmaceutical sales—drugs, the wave of the present.”

Melanie laughed. Her sister was a paradox. Although extremely successful at what she did, she was a believer in natural and holistic healing. Whenever one of them got sick, she suggested herbs, roots and teas instead of one of the miracle drugs she made a living selling.

They climbed the front steps to the house. “You could have let yourself in. Less mosquitoes.”

“I know.” She hiked Casey higher on her hip. “But it was too pretty a night to wait inside.”

Melanie unlocked the door and flipped on the foyer light. They made their way to the kitchen, turning on lights as they went. It was a small house, a cottage really, with two bedrooms, family room and kitchen. Though it would practically fit in the master-bedroom suite of her ex-husband’s home, Melanie loved it. In her opinion, what it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Located in one of Whistlestop’s older neighborhoods, it had an abundance of windows, hardwood floors throughout and high ceilings.

And best of all, she had paid for it herself, no help from her ex or anybody else.

“Did you eat?” she asked her sister as she got Casey settled at the breakfast counter. “I was going to throw together a salad. I have enough for two.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She shrugged out of her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “I had a late lunch with a doctor.”

Melanie glanced at her sister and frowned, noticing how thin she looked. Slightly taller than her and Mia’s medium height, Ashley had also been blessed with a more curvaceous build. Tonight, however, her tailored trousers seemed to hang on her. “Have you been ill?” she asked.

“No. Why?” “You look thin.”

Ashley cocked an eyebrow. “Compared to what? The way I usually look?” “No, silly. Too thin.”

“There’s no such thing.” She crossed to the refrigerator. “Have any cold beer?”

“Think so. Help yourself.” Melanie unwrapped her son’s cheeseburger, laid it and his bag of French fries on a plate and set it in front of him, snitching a fry as she did.

“Juice, Mom.”

“Milk,” she countered. “Then juice if you’re still thirsty.”

Casey only grumbled a bit—he knew it would be a losing battle—and dug into his burger. Melanie poured him the milk, then retrieved the salad fixings from the refrigerator. “You heard about Joli Andersen?”

“On the radio.” Ashley poured a beer into a chilled mug, took a sip and made a sound of appreciation. “Nothing like an ice-cold beer at the end of a long, hard day.”

Melanie grinned. “You sound like a commercial.”

“I do, don’t I? Maybe I missed my calling.” She took another sip, then set the glass on the counter. “So, tell me about today.”

Melanie tore off a hunk of iceberg lettuce, washed and patted it dry, and began ripping it into pieces over her bowl. “What do you want to know?”

“Just the basics. You know, was it really gruesome? Did you kick major CMPD butt? If you ruined your shoes when you threw up.” The last she said with a laugh, but at Melanie’s expression, brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Mel, I was just teasing. You didn’t really—”

“Totally humiliate myself? Try again. I puked my guts out in front of everybody.”

“Oh, sis, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I—” A lump formed in her throat, and she cleared it. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, Ash. And to everyone else it was … no big deal. Business as usual, I guess.”

She began peeling a cucumber, no longer because she wanted to eat but for something to do with her hands. “They talked about what happened to that poor girl so cavalierly. With so little, I don’t know, care. That’s what finally did it. Until then I was holding it together, focusing on the job.”

Ashley gave her a quick hug. “Tossed cookies or not, I know you were great. My sister, Super Cop.”

Melanie smiled and shook her head. More than anyone else, Ashley had supported her decision to become a police officer. She had always seemed to understand not just Melanie’s want to do it, but her need to as well. “I’ll tell you this, Ash, the work was fascinating. There was this guy at the scene, a profiler with the FBI. The way he worked was amaz—”

“Mom, what’s the FBI?”

Melanie looked at her son, realizing not only that he had been listening, but that he was fascinated. “It’s a law enforcement agency, honey. A big, important one.”

“That’s what I thought.” He stuffed a French fry into his mouth. “Are you talking about that lady?”

Melanie frowned. “What lady?”

“The one who was muttered.”

Murdered. “What do you know about that?”

“I heard Aunt Mia talking with my teacher.”

Ashley made a sound of disgust and Melanie glanced at her son’s plate—it was clean save for the pickles he’d peeled off his burger and a hunk of the bun. “Honey, are you finished?”

He nodded, then yawned. “Can I watch TV now?”

She leaned across the counter and wiped his mouth with a napkin, feeling a pinch of guilt at having kept him up so late. “Sorry, sweetie, time to hit the sack. It’s already thirty minutes past your bedtime.”

“But Mom—” he dragged the words out, part plea, part whine “—I’m not tired.”