The Officer And The Renegade

“Shh!” she whispered at his outraged cry. Anxious, she glanced toward the stairs. “Kyle has to be told, too, but not like that.”

Her father wasn’t listening. His face diffused with color, he glared at her as if she’d just announced she’d stolen a nuclear warhead and had it tucked away in their garage freezer. “Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t have a right to know? You lied! You lied when I asked if you two had been...well, you know.”

“I know. And, Dad, if you want to be honest, you knew, too. But I didn’t come out and announce anything for the simple reason that the one person who needed to know about my condition refused to talk to me. Had I said something to you, you would have turned right around and told him.”

“Am I missing something? What would have been wrong with that? You were a kid. You needed all the help you could get.”

“Great. Then he would have done the right thing, even though he hated me. Do you think I could have survived that? Would it have benefited Kyle to have a convicted felon as a father? No, it was better to take Ally up on her invitation and leave Redoubt.” Her old school friend’s gesture had been a lifesaver. “As for Jim, you’re being too hard on him. He has a big noble streak in him and he did fall a little in love with me. Enough to want to help me. But just as he realized he couldn’t be the cop his father and grandfather had wanted him to be, he learned he couldn’t stay married to me. A short time before Kyle was born he met Janet. I wasn’t blind. I could see how it was between them—maybe better than I otherwise would have, because I had experienced something equally strong with Hugh. There was no way I was going to stand between them. Even as I was packing to go to the hospital to deliver Kyle, I told Jim that he needed to divorce me and marry her.”

“And to think I believed you when you told me that you and Kyle kept your maiden name to simplify paperwork.”

Taylor saw emotion work on her father’s face and felt another pang of regret. “I’m sorry, Dad. I played it the way I thought fair and easiest on everyone.”

“Damn it, I should have known,” he replied, now more angry with himself. “I should have. You were a wreck before you left. But I thought you were upset because Hugh refused to see you after his arrest. Then learning he would be sent away for up to twenty years...”

“That’s all true.”

“And the boy did bear a strong resemblance to Jim.”

Jim’s Irish background had been an asset, and had their relationship worked out, it’s doubtful anyone would have ever guessed. What’s more, his father’s middle name had been Thomas. Thinking of the Patrick family, she felt a wave of amusement and sorrow; they had been a lively bunch to be around, and were disappointed when she and Jim discreetly met with them to admit their dilemma, and that they were divorcing.

“At first glance, Kyle did look like Jim,” she told her father. “But all you have to do is compare his baby pictures with Hugh’s, or have them stand side by side now....” She bit her lip. “That’s why I was so upset when I first heard he was here. Dad, he’s going to know the instant he sees the boy.”

Her father struck the coffee table with his fist. “Good! I hope it knocks his feet out from under him.”

“Prison did that more than enough.”

“Hey, you tried to tell him, but he acted the stubborn mule!”

“And here for a moment I’d begun to suspect you were plotting to get us back together.”

He did well at ignoring her gentle sarcasm. “One has nothing to do with the other. Only, what if I was? You two were nuts about each other. Don’t tell me feelings that strong die easily?”

Her father was turning into a sweetheart in his senior years. Potentially a troublemaker where her head and heart were concerned, but a sweetheart. “Do you hear what you’re saying? One minute you sound as if you believe he did deserve to go to prison, and the next you’re aglow with the idea of a family reunion.” When her father guiltily avoided her gaze, she grew more exasperated. “Dad, regardless of what I think, my decisions can’t be based on what I might want. I have to consider Kyle. He’s at a vulnerable stage. How can I announce that his real father missed his birth and all thirteen of his birthdays because of a murder rap?”

“It would be a helluva lot more sensible than what you have been telling him.”

“What? That I’d made a mistake once that had nothing to do with Jim, and that I was sorry for shortchanging him? That’s the truth.”

“Is it? Hugh was a mistake?”

“You know who I was referring to,” Taylor said with a speaking look. “In any case, Kyle has taken our divorce well.”

“Give him a bit more credit. He might take the rest well, too.”

“You’re romanticizing things again. All he’ll hear is that I lied to him—and that I’ve been a hypocrite because I’ve always been hard on him when he’s lied to me.” She exhaled as a whole swarm of possibilities spawned to attack her conscience. “I don’t know who’s going to end up being more upset—Kyle, Hugh or Murdock Marsden.”

“I don’t get a spot in this?”

“No. Because you triggered this whole disaster. You know. Dad, I meant what I said before. When Mr. Marsden finds out that my son is also Hugh’s child, he’s going to see a conflict of interest and demand you fire me.”

“Let him try. He’ll have to explain why a cop I fired for excessive behavior is now a valued addition to his crew.”

Good grief! Was there any news that wasn’t a potential land mine? “In other words, any way you look at this, there are going to be explosions going on around here from now on.”

“We’ll cope. You tell Hugh, honey, before he finds out from someone else. Tell him...and Kyle. They need time to get used to the idea before the rest of the community hears about them.”

Taylor saw a bigger hurdle. “You swore me in, Dad. Redoubt might not have the crime ratio of Detroit, but I have a responsibility to this community. The first thing I need to do is to get downtown and reassure everyone that there’s someone on the job. The rest has waited thirteen-plus years. It will have to wait a few more days.”

It had to.

Her father considered that. “I see your point...and for your sake I hope you have the time, but hurry, Gracie. If either Hugh or Kyle hear about this first, it might cause a break between you—”

Before he could finish there was a slam and a crash upstairs. Both Taylor and her father were startled by the violent sound. Taylor recovered first and hurried upstairs.

“Kyle? Are you okay? Kyle?” His bedroom door was locked. There was no sound coming from beyond the thin plywood, either. “Kyle! I need to know you’re in there, son, otherwise I’m going to have to force the lock.”

“Taylor...you’d better get, down here!” her father called from below.

Something in his voice told her that there was a good reason to put off forcing her way inside. Wondering what else would go wrong today, she hurried downstairs to see that her father had hobbled to the dinette window.

He pointed. “Look.”

Taylor crossed to him and saw her son racing down the road, heading toward town as if a pack of ravenous wild dogs was chasing him. “Heaven help me,” she breathed. “He heard.”

“He’s your son all right, Gracie. You used to be a grade-A sneak, too.”

Did she need this? “Where do you think he’s going?” she asked, already retracing her steps to get the car keys she’d thrown onto the coffee table along with the hat.

“If I was thirteen and had finally found out who my father was...?”

Taylor didn’t wait to hear more, she simply burst out the kitchen door and ran for her father’s truck.

Three

“It wasn’t the smartest thing you could do. But at the same time I don’t blame you. That rooster deserved becoming soup.”

Hugh attached Esmerelda Calderone’s loading receipt to the clipboard on the wall and reached for a brown grocery sack sturdy enough to hold five pounds of chicken scratch. He began scooping from the larger bins framing both sides of the warehouse doors, while trying to-shut out the feeble crone’s voice. She might be only their fourth customer of the day, but at the same time she was the fourth to think she had a right to comment upon his return to Redoubt.

“You were always a good boy, Hugh Blackstone. And everyone knows who was the bad hombre when young Marsden died. Bad, bad blood in that one.”

Hugh kept measuring and scooping. Before long the sun was going to be inching into the warehouse; and the temperatures would climb high enough to slow-bake his brains. He hoped the humpbacked woman was gone by then, otherwise he couldn’t guarantee to hold his tongue. As it was, he was tempted to tell her that she should save her breath because he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought anymore.

“How are your grandsons, Mrs. C.?” If he couldn’t stop her one way, at least he could redirect her focus.

She raised an arm that was almost as thin as the handle on the push broom he’d set aside to wait on her. “Eiyeeee. Little Manuel is wonderful. He’s with the archdiocese in Philadelphia. Can you believe that? My Emilio’s firstborn becoming an important man in the church. As for Roberto—” her expression grew more whimsical “—he’s now Mr. Rob at the Crimson Curl in San Francisco and paints people’s hair purple and green. A strange boy. I think maybe chickens are easier to raise.”

She could say that again. Hugh didn’t weigh the sack he’d filled almost full. It would register way over, but he knew the old woman lived on social security and what her kids could afford to give her on the side, so he simply taped the sack as though that was normal procedure. Maybe Blackstone Feed and Supplies would go bankrupt, but it wouldn’t be as a result of giving away a few cents worth of extra grain.