“Let me tel you what’s goin’ on,” Malcolm said to me.
I looked at him. His eyes were open and unguarded and infinitely kind. I realized two things straight off. One, this man had raised two pretty fantastic sons and an amazing daughter and I could tel the reason for that was because this was a good man. I also realized that he had been dragged into the mess that was the last week of my life right along with everyone else. The first thing humbled me, the second thing embarrassed me.
I tamped down the embarrassment, focused and said quietly, “I’d like to know what’s going on.” His eyes registered approval of my comment and I felt like I passed an important test. Not only that, I got an “A”.
He started talking. “They’re interrogating those men.
Jimmy Marker and Danny Rose are doing it. Jimmy and Danny are veterans, good at what they do and friends.
Hank can’t be involved because of you.”
I nodded, he continued.
“Hank’s watchin’, two way mirror. First, we want to know what happened to Flynn and if he’s stil at large. Then, we want to know who they’re workin’ for and why they came after you.”
I nodded again. I wanted to know al of that too.
“Hank wants you here, where he knows you’re safe and he can get to you. Wil you do that for him?” I swal owed, wondering if Malcolm knew how huge his question was.
Then I nodded again.
He patted my thigh.
“Good girl,” he said.
I did it again, passed another test and got another “A”.
I took a deep breath and he continued.
“This is a family affair, Roxie, in more ways than one.
Now, I’m gonna explain how that works. No one kidnaps a cop’s girlfriend out of his house then puts her in the path of a bul et. The whole department is gonna work until we get these guys and make you safe. Lee and I’l do whatever we can to that same end. You have my promise on that.” I tried not to focus on the fact he cal ed me Hank’s girlfriend, instead I focused on something that was even scarier. I liked this man; he was Hank’s dad and made Hank into what he was now and what he was to me. I didn’t want him to think badly of me.
“I’m sorry al of this is happening,” I said to him. “You must think –”
He squeezed my knee and interrupted me. “No offense, honey, but you don’t know what I think.”
I waited, quiet, knowing he wasn’t done and, for some reason, even more scared.
I may have passed a few tests but someone had shot at me that day. That probably wasn’t number one on a father’s list of the kind of girl he wanted his son to be with; especial y a son like Hank. It occurred to me I could be Hank’s “Bil y”, the girl that made his parents wince and get sad faces when they saw us together.
He continued.
“The only thing I want in this life is a piece of happiness for those I cal my own. I know my boy, he doesn’t fuck around when there’s somethin’ he wants, excuse my language.”
I did a hand gesture to excuse his language. It wasn’t his using the word “fuck’ that was making me freak out.
“It’s pretty damn clear Hank wants you and that boy doesn’t make stupid decisions. He’s smart, he’s control ed and he’s decisive. If he wants you, there’s somethin’ to want and that’s al I need to know.”
I looked at him, feeling funny. It wasn’t a bad feeling, it was a good one, a really good one and that scared me even more.
“You remind me of my dad, he doesn’t bul shit either,” I told him.
“Sounds like I’l like your dad,” Malcolm said.
He said this like it was a done deal that he’d meet my dad. I had visions of Malcolm meeting Dad and it made my heart skip a beat.
Mom and Dad had never met Bil y’s parents, neither had I. Bil y never even talked about them; he would close up the minute they were mentioned.
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 .