The Listener

“No, no. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

Lena chuckled. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It can be, then again, who knows?” She rubbed her eyes wearily and spoke. “What’s up?”

“Well, two things, actually. I’ll give you the easy one first.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I think you can handle it. I wanted to remind you about the open house next week. You’re still coming, aren’t you? To Angel’s Attic?”

Maria drew a blank, then Lena’s words registered. She and Lena both volunteered at the local women’s shelter. Always short on funds, the home for abused women and children ran a secondhand store called Angel’s Attic but it never had enough money. To supplement the budget, a buffet dinner and auction had been planned. “Oh my gosh, the benefit! That’s next week?”

“Monday night. It’ll be at the shelter. Starts at six and everyone’s included. You can bring Chris.”

“Thanks for reminding me. Things have been so nutty around here, I had completely forgotten.”

“No problem…now for the second reason I called.” Lena paused for a moment as if gathering herself. “I wanted to know how it went with Ryan today. I’ve been worried.”

Maria remembered his angry eyes. “Well, he wasn’t happy. He thinks the leave is going to ruin his career.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’ll ruin his career if he keeps going like he has been.”

“I tried to explain that, but he wasn’t buying. He’s in complete denial about everything.” Maria twirled her glasses thoughtfully. “When you called and set up his initial appointment you mentioned something about the way he approached his job. I can’t remember exactly what you said then, but I have a feeling it was important. Can you tell me again?”

“You probably don’t remember because I didn’t know how to explain it. It might not have even made sense,” Lena answered. “The only thing I can say is that he does his job with perfection. Too much perfection.”

“He’s too perfect?”

“He’s like a robot. He hits the target every time.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yeah,” Lena said softly. “It is. A good sniper depends on more than perfect aim. And until Ginny died, Ryan had it all—compassion, intelligence, insight—and excellent shooting. Now all he’s got is his steady hand. That bothers me.”

“He’s in a lot of pain.”

“I understand that, I really do. I knew Ginny, and I saw them together…but he’s too important to the team for me to let this pass. The decisions he makes are significant. People’s lives hang in the balance.” Lena’s voice lost the sympathy it’d held and hardened into resolve. “You’ve got a challenge in front of you, Maria, and it’s not one I envy. But something’s got to be done about him and you’re our only hope. I have to have a thinking, feeling man behind that gun, not just a machine.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE SAND was rock hard. It scoured his bare feet as he ran blindly down the beach in the midnight darkness. Anyone else would have needed more than the water’s phosphorescence to guide him, but Ryan Lukas had made this trip once a day—sometimes twice when things were really bad—for the past eighteen months; he had the route memorized. He required nothing but time. He pounded down the shore in silence, his breath contained, like everything else, in the tight rhythm he allowed himself. Forty-five minutes later, the final pier loomed, a blacker shadow. He made a wide turn and headed back, his toes sinking into the softer, wetter area that marked the edge of the surf.

Usually when he ran, his mind emptied. He ran for that very reason. Only when his body was in movement was he able to find a certain kind of peace. It wasn’t the ordinary calmness he’d known and taken for granted before but it was as close as he could get to the feeling and still be awake. For the most part, he lived outside his body. He went to work, came home, cooked his dinner…did all the things he had to without any of them registering. Only when he ran did he feel as he once had. Tonight, even that eluded him and he cursed in the darkness.

But he went on just the same.

His heart thundering, he reached the lights that marked the deck of the house he rented, right behind the dunes. He didn’t think of it as home. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It was simply the place where he slept and ate when he wasn’t at work. His gaze slid sideways toward the patio and he cursed.

As always, the dog was waiting. A full-grown German shepherd, he had the patience of a stone statue and the eyes of a sad saint. He tracked Ryan’s progress, but his stare was the only part of him that moved. He didn’t have a name because Ryan hadn’t given him one. When he got up every morning, the dog would be in the same spot in the kitchen. By the back door. Ryan would let him out and ten minutes later, he’d always return.

Ryan hated the animal. Each day, he vowed that day would be the last. He’d take the dog to the pound and forget about him. It never seemed to happen, though. Instead, Ryan would fling some kibble into the bowl in the corner then wash and fill a second one with fresh water. With quiet dignity, the animal would accept the offerings then reposition himself by the door for the rest of the day. On the rare occasions when Ryan was in the house for any length of time, the shepherd was his shadow, a silent, black presence that glided through the emptiness, always near but never touching.

Ginny had given the dog to Ryan for his birthday. The day before she’d died.

Slowing down, he jogged past the lights another hundred yards until he was finally walking instead of running. At that point he turned and splashed into the surf, his sweat-drenched body seeking the cool relief of the water.

He swam parallel to the beach, his strokes sure and steady. In the beginning, he’d always headed out, the lights of the beachfront homes shrinking as he put as much distance between himself and them as he could. Then he’d realized the danger in that. The temptation to keep going—until he couldn’t—was more than he could handle. Something deep inside him had made him stop and now he swam this way. Along the edge of the surf but not in it. Near the beach, but not too close. Out as far as he could…but not too far.

His strong broad strokes brought him quickly to the point where the lights twinkled. He stayed still and treaded the water, reluctant to get out, his mind going back to the woman he’d talked to today. Maria Worley. She obviously had no idea what she was doing to him. His anger sharpened as he thought about the leave. If he didn’t work, he wasn’t sure what would happen to him, but he knew one thing: It wouldn’t be good.

He emerged from the surf, salty rivulets running down his chest as his feet found purchase in the sand. He was halfway to the deck and the waiting dog when he paused and looked back over his shoulder. The Gulf waters called to him. He listened for a bit, then he continued to the deck, dismissing the temptation.

For now.

MARIA PULLED the Toyota up to the curb and shut off the engine, her gaze cutting across the seat to the other side of the car. Christopher was slouched down as far as he could possibly get, his earphones crammed so tightly into his ears, it looked painful. Despite that fact, the music still leaked out. Nine Inch Nails. “The Day the World Went Away,” his favorite. He probably wished it was “The Day His Mother Went Away.”

“We’re here,” she announced in a fake cheerful voice. “Let’s go.”

Pretending he couldn’t hear, he ignored her, his ploy so obvious it was might have been amusing under different circumstance. He was punishing her for the decrees she’d issued. Friday Maria had rescheduled all of her patients, spending the time instead at his school, talking to each of his teachers as they’d become available. She’d spoken to his counselor as well. Caring and thoughtful, they’d all tried to be helpful, but no one had a magic answer. As usual, Maria was on her own. Finally, after thinking about it long and hard, she’d forbidden him to go anywhere after school for the rest of the month. She’d also reinstated a rule she’d relaxed last year. He had to call her the minute he got home. He was supposed to do that before, but she’d eased up on that. No more.

He’d been so desperate to get out of the house, he’d actually agreed to come with her to Angel’s Attic. Now that they were here, Maria found herself second-guessing her decision. He was being so obnoxious she almost wished he’d stayed home. At least then she’d be able to have a good time.

She shook her head at her thoughts—what kind of mother was she?—then reached over and patted his arm. He turned to look at her and she nodded toward the house. “We’re here.”

He opened his car door without speaking and climbed outside.

With a sigh, Maria followed and they headed up a sidewalk already growing crowded. Someone had strung a line of Japanese lanterns along the railing of the front porch and in the warm spring evening, their lights twinkled brightly. They were miles from the expensive beachfront subdivisions but the air held a sea breeze all the same. Maria’s eyes went over the guests. They ranged from previous tenants of the shelter to cops to a group of teachers who helped run the home for battered women.

As Christopher headed for a side yard where a pickup game of basketball was taking place, Maria made her way to the dozen or so tables that held the auction items. Displayed were a variety of things that would be sold to raise money for the shelter, including a fishing excursion, dinner for two at the Marina Café and a hundred dollars worth of groceries from Delchamps, the local grocery store. It would be a silent auction; people had already filled out slips and left them in baskets by the items. The winning bids would be announced after dinner. Maria walked slowly down the line trying to decide. A full day at the new spa for her or two-hour Jet Ski lesson for Christopher? Maria reached for the slip in front of the Jet Ski offering just as Lena walked up.

“Hey! I didn’t know you liked to ride those things!” Lena smiled and nodded toward the photo of the purple-and-yellow Jet Ski on the table. “I’ve got one. I’ll teach you how to use it anytime you want.”

Maria returned Lena’s smile then acknowledged Andres, her husband, who waited patiently beside her. They’d had a few problems before their marriage last year, but they seemed so happy and contented now, Maria felt a sudden touch of envy. She and Reed had never stood that way, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, their eyes meeting frequently with silent messages that told everyone how much they really loved each other.

“This is for Chris,” Maria said, holding up the ticket. “But if I win, things would have to change before he could even think about redeeming it.”

Lena smiled sympathetically as Andres made a clucking sound. “What’s the problem, chica?”

Andres was Cuban, and the Spanish term of endearment rolled off his tongue with ease.

Maria shook her head. “Let’s just say if he continues as is, he’s going to show up on the Most Wanted list for forgery.”

“Uh-oh…that sounds bad.”

Maria nodded her agreement to Lena’s pronouncement just as someone across the room called to Andres. He excused himself and headed off and the two women turned back to each other.

“You know why Chris is doing all this, don’t you?” Lena asked.