Someone Like You

“Just so we’re all clear. Now, you are welcome to reschedule. I would imagine in your line of work, your time isn’t always your own.”

Mac had been in law enforcement for over a decade and he’d learned a lot about people. One thing that had been easy was spotting those who didn’t approve of what he did for a living. Just his luck—Hollis was one of them.

“I appreciate your flexibility,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s part of my job.” The corners of Hollis’s thin mouth turned up, but not in a friendly way. “In addition to our meetings, I’ll want to speak with Emily from time to time. I won’t make appointments for that. I’ll simply drop by.”

Of course. All the better to see if Mac screwed up.

“She’ll either be with me or her day-care provider. I’ve already given your office that information.”

“I have it right here.” Hollis opened a file. “Beverly Cooper, a local resident. Fifty-three, single. A bit eccentric, but considered to be a good person. No criminal record.”

Mac’s temper flared. The little twit had investigated Bev? He wanted to say something. He wanted to do something. But he sat quietly and reminded himself that he’d made the choices that had brought him to this place. He had no one to blame but himself.

“You’re familiar with the terms of the custody agreement?” Hollis asked. “You must maintain legal employment, meet regularly with me, maintain a suitable house for your daughter and see that she is provided for. In addition you’re not to commit any criminal acts or even be charged with any criminal acts.”

“None of that is a problem.”

“I’m glad we’re clear.” Hollis closed the folder and leaned forward. “Mac, I’ll be blunt with you. I don’t think men in law enforcement make good fathers.”

This was one of the few times Mac hated being right. “What is that opinion based on?” he asked, even as he had to grind his teeth to keep from reacting.

“Personal observation. Men on the edge have trouble relating to their families, especially their daughters. Too much tension, too much violence, has a way of changing a person. Look at your own situation. Based on what I read about the testimony, it was your time in the gang unit that caused your divorce and your separation from Emily.”

Mac hated that the kid had a point.

“So how are things going with her?” the social worker asked, his voice low and gentle.

Mac thought about Emily not speaking to him, about her monochromatic food issues and her emotional distance.

“Just peachy,” he said easily. “Couldn’t be better.”

Hollis sighed. “Whatever you may think of me personally, I do want to help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“All right. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

MAC SAT ON THE EDGE of his daughter’s bed. They’d survived the first twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t count that as a victory, but at least it hadn’t been a total disaster. Em didn’t talk that much when he was around, but at least she hadn’t mentioned leaving. He didn’t think he could stand that.

“How was your day?” he asked, knowing he probably shouldn’t.

“Okay.”

“What did Elvis think of Beverly?”

Her mouth curved up slightly. “He liked her.”

“Elvis always had great taste in women. I think she’s pretty fun.”

“I like Jill.”

He thought of the slender beauty next door. “I know.”

“When we played dress-up tonight before dinner, she let me be the princess and she was my lady-in-waiting.”

“That was nice of her.” He shifted so he could stroke his daughter’s hair. “I’m glad you’re here, Em. I’ve missed you so much.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. He waited, hoping she would say something. After a few seconds, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Sleep well, kiddo.”

“Night.”

He turned off the lamp and walked out of the room. A night-light glowed, illuminating his way. When he was in the hall, he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. She still hadn’t called him Dad or Daddy. She’d avoided addressing him as anything. Was she punishing him, or had he simply lost the right to be called that?

Not sure of the answer, he walked downstairs. The silence filled the space like a living creature. He stood in the center of the living room and wondered what happened next. How did he fix things with his daughter? How did he work his job, satisfy Hollis, heal the emotional breach and figure out what to do next?

Footsteps on the porch gave him a more immediate task. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open. Jill smiled at him.

“I know you didn’t eat. I tried not to care, but I couldn’t stand it, so I brought lasagna.”

She stood with the single bulb adding a warm caramel cast to her dark hair, a foil-covered plate thrust out like an offering.

“I never could resist a woman with food,” he said, pushing the door open wide. “Want to keep me company?”

“Sure. Is Emily in bed?”

“Yeah.”

She gave him the plate and followed him to the kitchen. This house was similar to her aunt’s, with a couple hundred more square feet and a bigger lot.

“Can I offer you anything?” he asked. “Beer, wine, Pop-Tarts?”

She laughed. “How about wine? I’ve only had one glass and that was about three hours ago, so I’m probably safe.”

“Not looking for a repeat of yesterday?”

“I think not. I like to keep my passing out to a minimum.”

“Probably a good policy.”

He grabbed a bottle of cabernet from a small wine rack on the counter and opened it. When he’d poured them each a glass, he sat across from her and removed the foil. The delicious smell made his stomach growl.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten,” she told him.

“Em was full when I brought her home and it seemed like too much trouble to fix something just for me.”