Luke said. “You on your cell?”
“Yeah, but reception’s sporadic. Still trying to dig out from the blizzard. Landline’s down too, but I have a feeling I’ll be moving out soon.”
“Where to?”
“Maryland.”
There was a long pause. John let the silence linger, unwilling to divulge more.
“What’s up, Callahan?”
“Nothing. Just…” Just what? Helping out a friend? Stepping into something he should probably walk away from? “Just following through on something that happened down here.”
“Where exactly are you headed?”
“Once you get me that information, I’ll know. Oh, and I need you to run a plate for me.” He recited the Corolla’s license plate numbers from memory. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And check on murders in the past week. Not gang related. At least I’m pretty sure its not gang related. White guy. That’s all I know.”
“Callahan, what the hell’s going on?” Luke’s voice was pitched low, probably so Kate wouldn’t hear.
Something stirred inside him. Something he’d buried long ago in the hopes of never feeling again. Excitement. The thrill of a new mission. It was like a long-dead part of him was coming back to life. “Like I said, just following up on some things.” The smile that spread across his face felt alien. Yet it felt good, too.
When he ended the call, he stared out at the landscape and mentally prepared himself to leave his mountain. Something he hadn’t done voluntarily in a long, long time. And something he thought he’d never do again.
Back inside, he checked on Hope, then thawed some frozen steaks and made dinner. It was a good thing they were leaving soon. Food was running low and toast and steak weren’t going to feed that baby of hers.
Thinking about the baby made all kinds of strange feelings churn inside him. It was a constant reminder that she had a life to get back to, people who worried about her, loved her, missed her. The idea that he would return to his cabin after their trip to Maryland to be alone once again should have comforted him, but instead it left him sadly depressed.
He shook those thoughts away, condemning himself as the world’s biggest idiot. He lived in the woods for a reason, steered clear of women for a reason. To think he could keep one small pregnant woman as his own was not only foolish, but possibly deadly.
You don’t really believe that.
Yes. Yes, he did. Something inside him scoffed and that small sound left him shaking so hard he dropped into a kitchen chair to regain the strength in his legs. He stared at his scarred hands, a visual reminder of what he’d been through. One glance in the full-length mirror in his bathroom was proof enough why he needed to stay tucked away in his corner of the mountains.
“When you’re ready to emerge, you’ll emerge,” one doctor had said.
“You’ll kill yourself if you keep going this way,” another had said.
Who had been right?
Two days ago, he’d thought it was doctor number two. Now he wasn’t so sure.
***
Dinner was a series of sounds. Forks scraping against plates, ice tinkling in glasses. The hum of the refrigerator and the crackle of the logs in the next room. No conversation. No banter back and forth. For a man who ate all his meals alone, it nearly drove John crazy.
After dinner, they settled on the couch and the silence followed them, perching on the cushion between them. Hope seemed lost inside herself and John didn’t know what to say to her.
“Do you know what it’s like to grieve, yet not know who you’re grieving for?” she finally asked.
“No.”
She curled into what he now considered her corner with the blanket draped over her legs, her hands on her belly slowly rubbing circles. He watched her hands and wondered if she even realized what she was doing.
“I have no memories of the person who was killed, yet know I need to grieve for him. It’s one hundred—one thousand—times worse not to know than to know and
“Yeah, but reception’s sporadic. Still trying to dig out from the blizzard. Landline’s down too, but I have a feeling I’ll be moving out soon.”
“Where to?”
“Maryland.”
There was a long pause. John let the silence linger, unwilling to divulge more.
“What’s up, Callahan?”
“Nothing. Just…” Just what? Helping out a friend? Stepping into something he should probably walk away from? “Just following through on something that happened down here.”
“Where exactly are you headed?”
“Once you get me that information, I’ll know. Oh, and I need you to run a plate for me.” He recited the Corolla’s license plate numbers from memory. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And check on murders in the past week. Not gang related. At least I’m pretty sure its not gang related. White guy. That’s all I know.”
“Callahan, what the hell’s going on?” Luke’s voice was pitched low, probably so Kate wouldn’t hear.
Something stirred inside him. Something he’d buried long ago in the hopes of never feeling again. Excitement. The thrill of a new mission. It was like a long-dead part of him was coming back to life. “Like I said, just following up on some things.” The smile that spread across his face felt alien. Yet it felt good, too.
When he ended the call, he stared out at the landscape and mentally prepared himself to leave his mountain. Something he hadn’t done voluntarily in a long, long time. And something he thought he’d never do again.
Back inside, he checked on Hope, then thawed some frozen steaks and made dinner. It was a good thing they were leaving soon. Food was running low and toast and steak weren’t going to feed that baby of hers.
Thinking about the baby made all kinds of strange feelings churn inside him. It was a constant reminder that she had a life to get back to, people who worried about her, loved her, missed her. The idea that he would return to his cabin after their trip to Maryland to be alone once again should have comforted him, but instead it left him sadly depressed.
He shook those thoughts away, condemning himself as the world’s biggest idiot. He lived in the woods for a reason, steered clear of women for a reason. To think he could keep one small pregnant woman as his own was not only foolish, but possibly deadly.
You don’t really believe that.
Yes. Yes, he did. Something inside him scoffed and that small sound left him shaking so hard he dropped into a kitchen chair to regain the strength in his legs. He stared at his scarred hands, a visual reminder of what he’d been through. One glance in the full-length mirror in his bathroom was proof enough why he needed to stay tucked away in his corner of the mountains.
“When you’re ready to emerge, you’ll emerge,” one doctor had said.
“You’ll kill yourself if you keep going this way,” another had said.
Who had been right?
Two days ago, he’d thought it was doctor number two. Now he wasn’t so sure.
***
Dinner was a series of sounds. Forks scraping against plates, ice tinkling in glasses. The hum of the refrigerator and the crackle of the logs in the next room. No conversation. No banter back and forth. For a man who ate all his meals alone, it nearly drove John crazy.
After dinner, they settled on the couch and the silence followed them, perching on the cushion between them. Hope seemed lost inside herself and John didn’t know what to say to her.
“Do you know what it’s like to grieve, yet not know who you’re grieving for?” she finally asked.
“No.”
She curled into what he now considered her corner with the blanket draped over her legs, her hands on her belly slowly rubbing circles. He watched her hands and wondered if she even realized what she was doing.
“I have no memories of the person who was killed, yet know I need to grieve for him. It’s one hundred—one thousand—times worse not to know than to know and
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