Page 21 of Two Kinds of Stranger

‘Then I’ll put a bullet through his head. Kevin took me to the shooting range. I know how to use that thing,’ she said, pointing to the gun in the lockbox.

‘I get it,’ I said. ‘But Amy is scared. Hell, you’re all scared and I don’t blame you. This guy sounds dangerous. Maybe Amy should come stay with me for a while.’

‘No,’ said Christine. ‘I want her here where I can keep an eye on her.’

‘I haven’t spent a lot of time at Dad’s recently. I miss our nights together eating pizza and watching Detective Palumbo.’

‘Columbo,’ I said.

‘Right, it would be good for us to—’

As much as I loved hearing this, before Amy could finish her sentence, Christine had brought me down to earth.

‘What you really want is to spend more time in the city. I don’t want you running around Manhattan on your own,’ she said to Amy, and then, as an afterthought, ‘No offense, Eddie. But she’s sixteen and she’s not responsible yet.’

‘But, Mom—’

‘I don’t need to fight with you too,’ said Christine.

Backing away, her hands raised in surrender, Amy left the kitchen and pounded upstairs.

‘Teenagers. . .’ said Kevin.

I wanted to say a lot more. That I could keep Amy safe better than anyone, but I held my tongue. There was an atmosphere in the house now. I wasn’t welcome. It was emasculating for Kevin, having his wife’s ex-husband come in as the protector, and as for Christine–there was too much history there. Too many old wounds and broken promises between us. And there was no doubt that my presence brought danger to those around me. It was just a fact.

Silence filled the kitchen. Hard as concrete. Freezing everyone on the spot.

‘I should go,’ I said. ‘But, look, if this guy comes around again, I would appreciate a call. Maybe there’s something I can do. If you want, I can get Bloch to come and check up on you. I know Amy likes her.’

My investigator, Bloch, pronouncedBlock, had met Amy a few times when she visited me on weekends. I was alwaysworking on something and that meant Bloch was too. It’s funny how some people just take to Bloch. She doesn’t say very much, but when she does, people listen. Not good with people, but brilliant with logic, science and deductive reasoning. Somehow, she got on well with Amy. Maybe young people have an honesty that Bloch appreciated. She didn’t have to decipher intentions and emotions through subtext.

‘Thank you, that would be fine. But there’s really no need. We’re okay,’ said Kevin, before Christine could object. I felt for Kevin. He was a good man, way out of his depth. No point in me making him or anyone else feel worse about that. The fact that he’d gotten himself a gun showed me just how afraid Kevin was feeling.

‘I can see you got this covered, Kevin. I feel better knowing you’re looking after Christine and Amy. I’ll take off – sorry to intrude,’ I said.

Kevin and I shook hands at the front door. Here was a regular, straight-up guy who loved Christine and had grown to love Amy like she was his own daughter. It had taken me a while, but I was glad. Christine was happy. Amy was happy. They were well looked after and cared for in every way that I couldn’t quite manage. And, more than anything, they were safe.

Until now.

I had almost reached the Mustang when I heard Christine’s boots on the gravel again.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry,’ she said.

I stopped at the car, turned around.

‘It’s okay. I know it’s a stressful time. Kevin is doing his best. You’re lucky, you know? He’s a good guy.’

She stepped closer, put her hands on my shoulders. I felt that warmth from her touch the way I did when we’d first met.

‘Thank you for saying that. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Thanks for coming over. Amy shouldn’t have called. I guessshe got scared. She admires you, you know? She follows your cases, you know that?’

I didn’t.

‘Look, if this gets any worse, then maybe she should come and stay with you. Thanks for the offer. But don’t go doing anything about this man Cross. Just leave it alone. Okay? I’m sorry for how I was in there. We split up because I couldn’t live that life. I couldn’t spend my days looking over my shoulder, worried about you pissing off some crook who would come after us. I thought I’d left that life behind. I thought I was doing the right thing. . .’

I got the impression she wanted to say more, that part of her still loved me, that maybe she had made a mistake getting divorced. Or maybe that was all in my head.

She leaned in, kissed me on the cheek, then turned and left.