Chapter 7.

Gradyscrawled his initials at the bottom of the weeklyreportand tossed itatop the other bits of departmental busywork. Nothing put him in a foul moodfaster than paperwork. He would rather face a hyped-up maniac with nothing buthis bare hands than read anything more complicated than a menu.

He rotated his head, trying to work out the kinks. On his way to the office,he'd stopped by his place, fed the cat and changed clothes. Trouble had beenreally upset which is why the little beggar was now sleeping in his carryingbox in the corner of the office. He'd thought about callingRia from his placeto ask permission to bring another houseguest, then changed his mind.

Which was his ego's way of saying hewimped out.

In the large area beyond his gla.s.sed-in office, the day-shift detectives wereworking the phones or dealing with interviews. Catching his eye, one of hisguys lifted a thumb and grinned. Grady acknowledged the best wishes with asmile and a nod. He wasn't sure how the word had spread, only that it had, andwith the usual lightning speed that never failed to amaze him.

When things shook down closer to a normal routine, he planned to throw aparty for the entire squad. In one way or another each man and woman whoworked under him had offered support.

In the beginning, when he'd been mostly raw nerves and raging temper, they'dhung in without even a whisper of mutiny. G.o.d knew they'd had every right togo over his head to the bra.s.s and get him kicked out of his command for cause.Instead, they'd quietly covered for him when he made mistakes, divvied up hisroutine paperwork, settled their own scheduling problems.

Feeling like a martyr about to be staked out for the buzzards, he picked uphis pen and reached for the next report in the folder. At the same time thephone rang. Grateful for the reprieve, he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up on the second ring.

Dr. Alberta Roth had a sultry voice that evoked images of damp sheets andsteamy s.e.x. The reality, however, was far more prosaic. In fact, when they'dmet face to face in Calexico, the pudgy, gray-haired matron with shrewd blueeyes had reminded him of his grandmother Hardin. On a personal level he'dtaken to her immediately. After an hour of watching her gentle Jimmy out of aseries of tantrums, he'd wanted to beg her to come home with them.

"Sorry I wasn't in when you called earlier, Captain. I was playingracquetball with my husband." A laugh bubbled through the wire. "Just betweenus, I whipped his little candy b.u.t.t."

Grady choked out a laugh. "My ex-wife used to whip me regularly on the tenniscourt. Had me begging for mercy by the third set." Mostly because he'd beenwatching her bottom. Half the time he'd staggered off the court so aroused hecouldn't wait to get her into the shower.

When the doctor spoke again, the gloating wife had become a briskprofessional. "So much for my athletic prowess. Why don't you tell me why youcalled?"

Grady cleared his throat. During the last meeting he'd had with her and the social worker handling Jimmy's case, Dr. Roth had given him three names ofchild psychologists, all within a day's drive of Indiana. After he'd leaned onher a little, she'd admitted that her first choice would be a former studentintern who now practiced in Chicago.

"First thing this morning I phoned Dr.McCurry's office to set up anappointment for a consultation, but according to his receptionist, he's bookedsolid for the next month."

"Aha. You want me to give Patrick a call and get you in sooner, I take it?"

Grady's chair protested as he leaned back. "Yes, ma'am. That's exactly whatI'm hoping."

"Is Jimmy acting out?"

"I'm not sure that's the right term, but things have been pretty rocky sofar. Jim and I, well, I wasn't around much so it made sense he wouldn'tremember me, but he and his mama were like a team, you know? Right from thebeginning, he was his mom's son. They were, uh, bonded, I'd guess you'd callit. Did everything together. I know he was only three, but-" He broke offbefore he was tempted to dump his own tangled emotions on her.

"He didn't remember her?" the doctor prodded gently when the silencelengthened.

"No, ma'am. It's been rough on her. I hate to call my own son a spoiled brat,but-" He cleared his throat, but the taste of guilt remained. "If it was somelowlife threatening her, I'd know what to do, but this is way out of my area.I figure we need some professional help."

"I see." There was a pause during which Grady watched Detective FirstGradeDeeAnn Gregory stride with her usual impatience through the bullpen mazetoward her ownneat-as-a-pin desk in the far corner. Grady and Dee's husband,Terrell, had gone through the academy together. When Terrell had been killedin the line of duty,DeeAnn had immediately applied to the department herself.After a rough start, she'd turned into a darned fine investigator.

"As I recall, Captain," Dr. Roth continued briskly, "you said that yourdivorce from the child's mother was an amicable one. However, it's been myexperience that even the most comfortable relationships undergo strain intimes of high stress. Perhaps James is picking up on some undercurrentsbetween the two of you and reacting to those."

"If you're asking me ifRia and I are snarling at each other, the answer isno."

"No offense, Captain, but children are far more perceptive than those of uswho consider ourselves grown-ups. Studies have shown that they can pick upeven the smallest signs of friction."

Grady sawDeeAnn approaching his office and shook his head. She held up afolder, mouthed "later" and he nodded.

"Riaand I are doing okay so far," he said,rubbing ahand over his neck. "Wehave to hammer out some kind of custody arrangement, but that can wait."

"Where is the boy now?"

"With his mom, at her place."

"In familiar surroundings?"

"No, not at all. The house where he grew up was sold after we split.Ria has asmall place in the city now. Is that a problem?"

"Not necessarily, although research into similar cases has shown fairlyconclusively that the more reminders of the patient's past life the better."

"Riadid save his toys and books, things like that. But when she tried to gethim interested in going through theboxes, he pitched another fit. Rat-out toldher to stop bugging him."

He heard the sudden crackle of static. A storm somewhere in the heartland, hefigured. Coming their way. The clouds were alreadyforming, broodingblacksuckers that blocked out the sun.

"Has he talked much about the couple who posed as his parents?" she askedquietly.

"Some, on the trip home, mostly. I got the feeling they pretty much let himdo anything he wanted."

"Unfortunately I had that same feeling." She sighed. "Well, first thingsfirst. I can't promise to convince Patrick to juggle his schedule, but I'lltry. In the meantime, I suggest you establish a routine with the boy and stickto it. Restrict the number of people he has to deal with to those who'd oncebeen special to him in some way. You and your ex-wife, of course, and anyclose family members."

"I have a big family, Doctor. Four brothers and a sister. Things can get alittle hectic."

"Then perhaps you should keep things simple for the moment." She sighed. "Isthere someplace where the three of you often went together? A park perhaps, ora restaurant?"

He glanced at the framed snapshot ofRia and Jim building a sand castle on asunlit day at the lake. Sunbeams were trapped in her hair, and she waslaughing as she looked into the camera.

"My folks have a cottage on a lake about a half hour's drive away. We used tospend part of every summer there. In factRia was packing our things for atwo-week stay when Jimmy was abducted."

"And the boy knew that?"

"Sure. We'd even gotten him his own fishing rod."

"I think that's it, Captain, your best chance at sparking his memory."

"Taking Jim fishing?"

"Among other things, yes. The three of you need to go to the lake and do allthe things you did before. Try to replicate your previous stays as closely aspossible."

"That might be a problem," he admitted, his voice tight. "Riaand I haven'ttold Jim we're divorced. Things were pretty hectic last night, and then todayhe wasn't in the mood to listen to anything either of us said."

"Maybe that's for the best. In fact..." She paused and he could almost hear thewheels turning in her head. When she spoke again, her voice was suddenlyenergized. "Don't tell the boy about the divorce. Not yet. Don't let anyoneelse tell him. Wait until he's more secure before you ask him to deal with yetone more demand on his resilience."

Grady cleared his throat. "I slept onRia's floor last night, Doctor. Jimdidn't see me, but he might. He's bound to figure out something's not right ifhis folks aren't-" He broke off, embarra.s.sed as h.e.l.l. The woman on the otherend probably knew more about s.e.x than he ever would, given the stories hefigured she'd listened to over the years, but still...

"I take it this amicable divorce doesn't include a continuation of s.e.xual relations between the two of you."

He scowled. "You take it right."

"Fake it."

He blinked. "Pardon?"

She chuckled. "You heard me, Captain. Pretend. Buy twin beds if you have to,but make sure you and your ex-wife sleep in the same room."

He nearly groaned. It had been bad enough just sleeping under the same roofwithRee . He wasn't sure he'd come out of this sane if he had to listen to the soft sounds of her breathing night after night without being able to touchher.

"You really think this will work?"

"The literature cites several instances of remarkable results in other cases of amnesia." There was a pause, thenshe continued in a softer tone, "Your sonneeds you, CaptainHardin. And he needs his mother. More now, I suspect,than heever did before. But I feel I must warn you, it'svery possible he might alwaysthink ofyou as the one who stole him away from his parents. He might actuallyhate you."

"He already does. Told me so a couple of times already. He blames me forputting his ... parents in jail."

"Hate and love often share the same s.p.a.ce in a person's heart."

He thought about the cases of domestic violence he'd rolled on when he'd beenin uniform. He'd never quite gotten his mind around the idea that a man couldbeat his wife b.l.o.o.d.y one moment, then swear up and down he only did it becausehe loved her so much.

"Are you saying I should stay out of my son's life?"

"No, that's the last thing I think you should do. Just the opposite, in fact.James was definitely intrigued by you, but then, young males tend to befascinated by other powerful males, especially ones like yourself who have anedge of danger to their persona."

Grady frowned. Was that good or bad? he wondered. "And his mom?Ria , I mean?Do you think he could come to hate her, too?"

She sighed deeply. "I don't know, Captain. I simply don't know."

Grady pulled into the driveway and parked behind his dad's vintageStudebaker. Fat raindrops pelted his head and shoulders as he raced from thedriveway to the shelter of the back porch. The door was unlocked, the way ithad always been. He smiled a little when he walked past the irregular spot inthe kitchen wall where he'd put his fist through the lath plaster. At the timeit had been his brother's face he'd been aiming to pound, but Kale hadalwaysbeen a step faster, even then.

It had taken him half a blockbefore he'd caught uptothe smirking b.a.s.t.a.r.d andsent him sprawling into Mrs.Genarro's prized peony bush. Kale had ended upwith a broken nose, and he'd ended up with a month's restriction anda soreb.u.t.t.

His mom hadclucked over both her boys, dispensing icefor her firstborn's noseand iodine for her second son's splitknuckles-along with copious hugs. His dadhad giventhem both h.e.l.l-Kale for taunting his brother about flunking firstgrade again, and Grady for being suckered into losing his temper.

His dad had shown him how to patch up the damage, then had taken him out forice cream, just the two of them. Mason had talked, about baseball and fishingand the difference between winners and losers. By the time Grady had packedaway two banana splits, he'd decided to take another stab at the exercises thespecial ed teacher had given him.

Ithad taken him four years to catch up with the rest ofthe kids his age. Inspite of the hours of study he'd put in every night-twice as many as hisbrothers-he'd nevermade better-than-average grades, but he'd won the battleforhis self-respect.

The kitchen was empty. In all the years since he'd beenwalking through theback door, he'dnever failed to feel asense of comfort and warmth in this room.According to his mom, her kitchen was the heart of the house. The placewherehungry bodies were fed and aching souls were soothed.

His mom had been baking, and the scent of ginger and spice hung in the air.He grinned when he saw the gingerbread men lined up to cool on the bakingsheet on thecounter.Jimmyloved gingerbread men almost as much ashe did. Hisstomach growled, but he fought off the, urge to filch a bite.

"Anybody home?" he called as he went through the swinging door into thedining room.

"Grady!" His mom's voice came from above, and he headed for the stairs offthe old-fashioned entry hall. "Mason, wake up. It's Grady."

Grinning because it was good to know he would always be welcome in this placeno matter how many times he messed up, he rested his hand on the square newelpost and waited for his mom to appear at the top of the stairs.

It took less than a wink before she was rushingtowardhim, her smile as happyas he'd ever seen it.

"This is such a wonderful surprise," she said as he caught her up in a hug.It gentled him some to breathe in the clean scent of plain soap that had beenone of his earliest memories. Then as now it promised security and love. Hisgrin dimmed as he wondered if Jimmy would ever feel similar feelings for hismom again.

As soon as he set her on her feet, Sarah was looking behind him, her eyes asbright as stars. "Is Jimmy with you?"

"Nope. Does that mean I have to leave?"

"Don't be a smart-a.s.s, James Grady," she ordered before tucking her arm inGrady's. "Come sit in the kitchen while I pack up the treats I made for thelittle angel. I want to hear everything that happened from the moment you leftfor California. Don't leave out a thing."

Thirty minutes later Grady finished both his story and the bottle of beer hisdad had handed him as soon as he'd settled into the bench built into the breakfast nook.

"Of course you can have the cottage for as long as you want it," his mothersaid after exchanging looks with his dad.

"Sounds like a d.a.m.n minefield to me," Mason mutteredbefore tipping thelong-necked bottle to his mouth for a long, satisfying swig. "Pretending to beman and wife. Seems like a sure way to get yourself in a tangle."

"Hush, Mason. Grady knows what he's doing." Sarah furrowed her brow. "WhatdoesRia think?"

Grady felt a sudden burning in his belly. The beer had been a mistake. "Ihaven't discussed it with her yet."

His father lifted his left eyebrow, the skeptical one each of his sons hadcome to dread. "Any idea when you might get around to it?"

Grady studied the label on the bottle as though his life depended onmemorizing it. "I figure I'll pour her a gla.s.s of wine as soon as Jimmy goes...o...b..d, and then when she's feeling nice and mellow, I'll work theconversation around to it nice and slow like."

His dad's eyebrow edged higher. "I'd make that gla.s.s a big one, and do youredging at a snail's pace."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mason. You knowRia's still in love with our boy. Itsticks out all over her whenever they're in the same room together."

Grady had never wanted to believe anything more in his life. "How come if sheloves me so much she acts like I have something catching whenever I try totalk to her?" He picked at the label with a fingernail clipped too close to domuch good. But it helped him concentrate.

"For heaven's sake, you men can be obtuse sometimes." His mother got up fromher seat across from him and started packing up the gingerbread men.

"What about it, Pop? Are we obtuse?" Grady asked, meeting his father's amused gaze.

"Don't know about you, son, but I figure I have to be,seeing's how your momhas this all-powerful need to tell me at least a dozen times a day that what Ijust said wasn't what I meant at all."

His mom waved a graceful hand. "Don't pay any attention to your father,sweetheart. He's just in a funk becausethe Cubs have lost seventeen straight."

"Eighteen," Mason grumbledbefore getting up to snag another beer from thefridge. Grady wasn't surprised whenhis dad neglected to offer him one, too.Mason was scrupulous about never having more than one when he knew he wasgoing to get behind the wheel, and he'd hammered that rule into each of his sons.

"Cottage phone's not hooked up," Mason said after chugging a satisfying thirdof the bottle. "Something's wrong with the wiring."

"Mice," Sarah muttered, glancing over her shoulder. "The same mice yourfather promised to trap for me this spring."

"Didn't figure there was any hurry, what with darn near every member of thisfamily hauling around cell phones." He slanted Grady a grumpy look. "Where'syours?"