CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
C HAPTER T WENTY -S IX
Feeling useless, Renata watched Claire melt down. She couldn’t imagine finding out her entire life was fabricated, that she was a whole other person. Then, the first time she saw her biological family, her mother lost her shit on a bender.
She pulled the sheriff aside. “How about I take Claire to visit her cat instead of sitting around the station? She can have dinner with me and my mom. It might make her feel normal for a few hours.”
“Are you sure you want to give up your evening?” Sheriff Taggert asked. “You’re about to go off duty, and tomorrow is your day off.”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I didn’t have any plans except some yard work.” Renata never had plans. “My mom will enjoy the company, and she’s good with teenagers.”
“OK, then,” the sheriff said. “Check in with me later. Don’t say anything to Claire, but she might not be going back to the same place.”
“All right.” Renata sent her mom a quick text. Then she waved to Claire. “Wanna get out of here for a while?”
“Yes!” Claire jumped to her feet.
“Let’s go.” Renata led the way to the rear of the station. She and Claire climbed into her Jeep. As Renata drove out of the employee lot, she spotted two news vans driving into the front parking lot. “Keep your head down. Press.”
Claire ducked sideways.
Renata kept one eye on the rearview mirror until the sheriff’s station was out of sight. “You can sit up.”
Claire turned to look through the rear window. “Thanks. Where are we going?”
“My house. I thought maybe you’d like to see Chunk.”
Claire smiled. “I would love that.”
“I am not the best cook in the world, and I’m hungry. What kind of fast food do you like?”
“Could we have pizza?”
“Of course! I have a place on speed dial. What do you want on it?”
“Veggies?”
“My favorite.” Renata ordered the grilled vegetable pie. She added a quart of chicken pastina soup and garlic knots to the order in case her mom couldn’t stomach pizza today.
“Can I put down the window?” Claire asked. “I could use some air.”
“Sure. Good idea.” Renata turned off the AC and lowered her own window. She turned on the radio. “Put on whatever you like.”
Claire fiddled with the stations for a few minutes, then settled on a Taylor Swift song. Renata wasn’t a die-hard Swiftie, but “Shake It Off” felt appropriate. She rested her elbow on the doorframe. The hot wind whipped her hair and reminded her of summer day trips to the beach.
Claire leaned back, sang along, and tapped out the rhythm on the armrest. It was the first time Renata had seen the girl almost relaxed. She turned down a side street toward the pizza parlor. A dark SUV made the turn behind them. Renata made a few additional, unnecessary turns, circling a block. The SUV disappeared.
Coincidence? Lots of people drove dark SUVs. Renata leaned toward cautious and took Claire into the restaurant with her when they picked up the order. Then she kept watch all the way back to her mom’s house.
The drive was short, and Renata pulled into her driveway ten minutes later. She shifted into park, then paused. “My mom is sick. Cancer. They caught it early. Chances are she’s going to be OK, but the treatment is hard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. I didn’t want you to be shocked because she looks ... well, sick, but it’s not contagious.”
Claire nodded. “OK. I appreciate that.”
“Then let’s go inside so you can hug your cat.” Renata climbed out of the vehicle.
Claire helped her carry the food into the house.
Renata called, “Mom?”
“In the sunroom,” her mom answered.
Renata led Claire through the house. They set the pizza box and take-out bag on the counter in the kitchen, where her mom had set the table for three. Her mom and the cat were in almost the same position they’d been when Renata had left that morning. “Have either of you even moved today?”
Her mom laughed. “Yes, we did. But it’s so nice out here, even though my garden is in terrible shape.”
Chunk agreed, purring, stretching out, and flexing his murder mittens.
Renata introduced Claire. “This is my mom, Teresa Zucco.”
“Hi, Mrs. Zucco.”
Renata’s mom scoffed. “Teresa, please.”
Chunk spotted Claire, heaved himself to his feet, and ambled over to say hi. Claire was all smiles as she scooped him onto her lap and hugged him close. The cat purred louder.
“He missed you,” Teresa said.
“Maybe,” Claire said into Chunk’s fur. “But he likes everyone. Thanks for taking care of him.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ve enjoyed his company. But now I’m starving.” Renata’s mom held out a hand. “Little help.”
Renata pulled her to her feet. “Then let’s eat.” Renata retreated to her room to change into shorts and an oversize T-shirt. She considered her gun safe, but instead opted to switch her weapon to a holster that nestled the gun at the small of her back, the most comfortable and discreet on-body carry she’d found for her petite frame. She tugged the hem of her shirt over the gun.
When she returned to the kitchen, her mom and Claire were dispensing pizza and chatting as if they’d known each other for years. Chunk begged like a dog at Claire’s feet. The girl tore off a tiny piece of pizza, and the cat ate it with gusto. Her mom enjoyed the company so much she ate an entire slice of pizza, and Renata vowed to make sure they socialized more regularly. After dinner, her mom and Claire attacked a puzzle on the dining room table while Renata cleaned up. Chunk climbed onto the table and stretched out on top of half the pieces. Laughing, Claire moved him.
But Renata’s mom quickly tired. “I’m sorry, Claire. I need to rest for a bit. We’ll do more of the puzzle later, OK?”
“Yeah. OK.” Claire sipped her Coke.
After her mom left the room, Renata sat down at the table and squinted at the puzzle box. “A thousand pieces?”
“It’s a hard one too.” Claire pulled edge pieces from the box.
“I can see that.” Renata started collecting pieces that seemed to be the same shade of green. “Thanks for distracting my mom. She needed that.”
“So did I.” Claire’s mouth flattened, tiny lines fanning out that had no business forming on a teenager.
“Want to talk about it?”
Without looking up, Claire asked, “Do I have to go back to that foster home?”
Suspicion crawled up the back of Renata’s neck. She fought to keep her voice neutral. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t like him .”
“Him?”
“The foster dad.” Claire shuddered.
“Is there a specific reason?”
Claire paused. “I just don’t like the way he looks at me. It makes me uncomfortable. I can’t explain it. He didn’t do anything.”
Renata bristled. “How about I call the sheriff and see what your options are?”
Claire’s shoulders curled forward, and her voice went meek. “OK.”
How terrible would it be to have this little control over your life?
“Give me a couple of minutes. There’s ice cream in the freezer. Help yourself.” Renata picked up her cell phone and walked out the back door into the yard. Weeds crowded the raised herb and vegetable garden. Her mom hand-watered her plants, but she didn’t have the energy to pick weeds, and she refused to use chemicals. Renata made a mental note to work on the beds when she had a day off.
A black fake wrought-iron fence surrounded a yard the size of a baseball diamond. This was her mom’s haven. Before cancer, she had done almost all the maintenance herself. Despite the fact that the yard behind them was empty, Renata appreciated the ornamental trees and shrubs along the fence that provided privacy. In front of the shrubs, flower beds were usually full of annual blooms, but this year the beds sat empty and forlorn. The grass should be lush and soft, but the drought had killed it. They’d have to resod the whole lawn in the spring.
Renata wandered across the crunchy dead grass and scrolled on her phone for the sheriff’s number, hoping to catch her boss before she left for the press conference.
A door opened and closed. “Renata, is that you?”
“Over here, Mom.”
Her mom walked across the grass. “It’s still hot out here.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Renata said. “But the weather has to break soon. It’s almost September.”
Her mom faced her. “I overheard what Claire said about the foster home. She can’t go back there. Kids have good instincts.”
“I know.” Renata lifted her phone. “I’m calling the sheriff now.”
“She could stay here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here.”
“Someone might be after Claire,” Renata explained. “She’s been pursued.”
“All the more reason for her to be somewhere safe.” Her mom didn’t blink. “I still have my Glock and the license to carry. I might be sick, but I’m not useless.” As a retired cop, her mom could carry concealed as long as she maintained her certification, which she did.
“I know you’re not. I don’t like you taking risks.”
Her mom gave her a Look. “I served the NYPD for twenty-five years. I know what risk is, and I’m willing to take it on to protect that child. She needs someone to look after her, in more ways than keeping her physically safe.”
“And you are the perfect person to do that.” Renata sighed. Teresa Zucco had raised Renata as a single mom after her husband had bailed on them when Renata was a baby. There weren’t many problems her mom couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tackle.
“Yes, I am.”
“OK,” Renata relented. “But it isn’t up to me. I have to call the sheriff. Then she’ll set all the balls rolling. You’ll probably have to talk to the judge to get an emergency approval.”
“I know how the system works. You’d better get on that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Renata dialed her boss. Even though her mom had volunteered to put herself in danger, the knot of anxiety in Renata’s belly loosened. Her mom went back inside while Renata made her call. The sheriff sounded relieved after Renata explained the situation. As she ended the call, a twig snapped beyond the fence line. In the yard next door, the neighbor’s ninety-pound pit bull, Baby, burst into a barking frenzy.
Renata dropped into a crouch, her hand automatically reaching for her weapon. Her heart burst into a sprint. Baby’s dog tags jingled as he paced the fence. Renata parted the branches of a towering rhododendron. She spotted the dog. Baby snuffled and snorted along the bottom of the fence separating his yard from the one where the noise had originated.
He spotted Renata and trotted over, but one ear remained cocked at the adjoining property. Renata followed the dog’s focus. She stepped behind the bush and sidled along the fence. When she reached the corner, she ducked behind the narrow trunk of a dogwood tree and peered through its branches. She saw nothing but weeds in the empty lot. She looked back at the dog. Baby sat, his posture relaxed, his skinny tail thumping on the ground. The threat was likely gone.
Renata walked along the entire rear fence line, stopping at an area where the weeds had been trampled flat. Empty beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground. Teenagers? Renata examined the ground more closely. The weeds were flattened all the way to the base of her fence. She spotted something small and black waving in the breeze. A single black thread was caught in a screw in the fence. Someone had stood, leaning on the fence, maybe facing her yard. Renata lined her own body up with the prints and assessed the view. Through the branches of the dogwood and above the trimmed azaleas, she could see directly into the dining room, where Claire was at the table, working on the puzzle.
It was clear that people—likely teens in this neighborhood—had been using the empty lot to hang out and drink beer. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Baby, and the dog was usually quiet. Despite the likelihood that the intruder hadn’t been a true threat, Renata couldn’t shake her uneasiness.
She was about to turn away when she spotted a black item in the shadows of an oak tree. Renata hopped the four-foot fence. Her heart stuttered as she identified a baseball cap with the words A-P LUS C LEANING on the front.