of Skip’s favorite days of the year. He’d always said he’d eat the big turkey dinner every day if he could.
“He’s supposed to be calling me nonstop to ask if I got the turkeys yet and to remind me he’s paying for them,” Tracy said, sniffling. “I keep waiting for that call.”
Sam laughed even as she blinked back her own tears. “And every year, you’d have to tell him, ‘Dad, they’ll be rancid by Thanksgiving if I get them now.’”
“Right,” Tracy said, laughing. “Every year. Same conversation.”
“Remember the year you forgot to cook the giblets for him?”
“God, yes. I thought he’d disown me.”
“So gross. Who eats that shit?”
Together, they said, “Skip Holland.”
“I miss him so much, it makes me ache,” Sam said.
“Same. I just had this conversation with Brooke,” Tracy said of her nineteen-year-old daughter, “when she asked me how long it would take until it didn’t hurt so badly anymore.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her it would probably always hurt a little because there’s a hole in our lives where he used to be, but he wouldn’t want us to let the pain get too big. He’d say he had a good life, and he wants the same for us.”
“That’s really perfect. Mind if I use that if I need it with Scotty?”
“Go for it. It’s the truth. I’m sure of it. That’s what he’d want.”
“It is.”
“I know you’re dealing with the added grief of discovering Conklin’s involvement and that other officer. What’s his name?”
“Hernandez.”
“Yeah, him. That has to compound the loss for you.”
“It doesn’t help. That’s for sure.”
“I have no doubt that you and everyone involved will get justice for Dad.”
“If it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Nick took the malaise of his mother’s unexpected reappearance with him to work, dragging after a restless night of not enough sleep. He’d been plagued by old dreams of his childhood and the many days he’d sat by the window of his grandmother’s small apartment, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. The scent of Chanel No. 5, the scent of his mother, had wafted through the dream, revolting him. He hated that scent and the reminders of disappointment that came with it.
What was she doing going on TV to talk about him when she hadn’t talked to him in months? Not since the last time she’d surfaced like algae in a pond to stick her nose into his business during Christopher Nelson’s reign of terror, which had led to the murder of Sam’s ex-husband in a plot that had shocked Nick to his core. His mother’s involvement had only made it worse. The person who should’ve been protecting him had once again let him down. He ought to be used to it by now, but he never had figured out a way to protect his heart from her cruelty.
It pissed him off that she still had the power to hurt him. By now, he should be long over her ability to crush him, but if last night was any indication, he was a long way from over it.
Terry was waiting for him with the morning security briefing and other matters that required his attention, which kept his mind occupied and off the thing he didn’t want to think about. “So about that interview your mother gave last night,” Terry said when they’d completed the rest of the items on Terry’s usual morning list.
Nick braced himself. “What about it?”
“Trevor is juggling a bunch of inquiries for more information about your relationship with her after the statement from last night.”
“Sam does some of her best work when my mother is involved.”
“She does. I’m really sorry you have to deal with her like that.”
Nick shrugged, as if his mother regularly devastating him was no big deal. “It is what it is. I learned a long time ago not to hope for her to change.” His personal cell phone rang. “Ah, look who it is. My dad is probably in a rage today too.” He took the call from Leo Cappuano, who had been just as absent as his mother when Nick was a child but had made a concerted effort to be better in recent years. “Hey, Dad.”
Terry waved as he stepped out to give Nick some privacy.
“Nick…” Leo was sputtering, which was unusual. “I’m just beside myself. What the hell is she thinking?”
“I believe she’s not thinking so much as profiting.”
“Disgusting. I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make it stop.”