My parents would like Malcolm and they’d love Hank. I could hear Mom cal ing Sweet Jesus al the way from Brownsburg, Indiana at the mere thought of me with a guy like Hank.
“Thank you for tel ing me al of this,” I said to Malcolm.
He smiled at me and his smile was just as drop-dead gorgeous as his son’s. “My pleasure.”
We sat for a while longer, talking about Denver weather and then we started talking about sports. He told me it took awhile for him to warm to the Rockies; he’d been a Mets fan. I teasingly congratulated him for at least remaining faithful to the National League. Then, I told him I thought there was nothing better in the world than eating a hot dog and drinking a beer in the humid sun at Wrigley Field. After I finished with that, Malcolm gave me another one of his smiles, making me think I’d passed another test.
Then Hank walked into the room and I stopped talking.
His eyes settled on us and he didn’t take them away as he walked across the room.
“What’d they get?” Malcolm asked when Hank arrived.
Hank grabbed my hand, pul ed me up, stood close and didn’t drop my hand. Malcolm rose as wel .
“Not much, they’re not talkin’. I cal ed the Chicago PD
yesterday to have them check Roxie’s apartment. Prints from the apartment match these guys and Chicago tel s us these boys are linked with a bigger operation. We’re waitin’
for reports on the prints they lifted in the hotel in Nebraska to check if we can place them there too. We don’t hold to check if we can place them there too. We don’t hold much hope for that. The place was a shithole, filthy, prints everywhere. They didn’t get much except partials from around the sink. It’l be Roxie’s word that puts them in Nebraska.”
After he said that, his mouth got tight at the thought of me and the sink.
I stared at him. I had no idea that anyone had gone back to that hotel in Nebraska and I certainly had no idea the cops checked out my loft in Chicago.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
It was Malcolm that answered. “The minute Vance found you, Hank and Jimmy’ve been runnin’ what’s become a three state investigation.”
Holy cow.
“Wel , Hank hasn’t been runnin’ it, at least not official y,” Malcolm went on as if I was going to hightail it to Internal Affairs and snitch on Hank’s efforts to keep me safe.
Before I could react to what Malcolm said, Hank tugged my hand.
“Let’s go,” Hank said, nodding to his father, obviously done talking.
“Where?” I asked.
He looked down at me. “Home,” he answered.
I pul ed my hand from his and gave Malcolm a kiss on the cheek. When I pul ed away, I saw Malcolm’s eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that didn’t reach his lips and I figured, somehow, I’d got another “A”.
Then I turned back to Hank. He grabbed my hand again and we left.
and we left.
When we got in the 4Runner and Hank had it on the road, he asked, “How’re you doin’?”
“Not good,” I answered honestly. “You?”
“I’m angry,” he said, just as honest.
“I can tel .”
Then, after a beat I sighed, huge and loud and looked out the side window, trying hard not to cry.
“Roxie,” he said.