Protecting The Single Mom

Luke walked through the room with an open bottle of sparkling wine. “Gabe’s vineyard is very proud of their first sparkling crop.” He smiled at Cate.

“Oh, Luke, wine isn’t a crop,” Cate joked.

“Why not?” He foisted a wounded look onto the bottle with its gold foil label.

“It’s a batch,” handsome, black-haired Gabe said, breezing through the clusters of guests with empty glasses and another bottle.

Luke winked at Cate. “You watch the kids for me? I have to help pour.”

“Sure.”

Cate had known Luke when he was married to his first wife, Jenny. She’d sold them their lovely bungalow house. She’d also resold it for him after Jenny died. It all seemed impossible to her that Jenny could be dead. And now, Luke was as happy—or happier—with Sarah, who’d been one of the first friends Cate had met in Indian Lake.

“Mom!” Danny called as he looked up from the sleeping baby. “Come here. Don’t you think Zeke is cute?”

“He is,” Cate replied, approaching to look at the baby. “Is his name Zeke? I thought it was Angelo. After his grandfather.”

“Oh, no,” Annie and Timmy chimed together.

“It’s definitely Zeke,” Annie stated.

“Definitely.” Danny and Timmy nodded.

“He’s got a lot of black hair.” Danny grinned proudly. “Like me.”

Gabe walked up, put his arm around Cate’s shoulder and said, “You get yours from your mother, Danny. Zeke’s hair is like mine. I’m told a baby’s hair can fall out and grow back another color.”

Danny’s blue eyes widened. “No way. Is that true, Mom?”

Cate nodded. “Actually, yes. When you were a baby, you were a towhead. Er, blond.”

Danny shook his head. “That’s just crazy. Why would I do that?”

Cate shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have been someone in the family.”

“Well,” Gabe said as he scooped up baby Zeke, “I have to take him to his momma.”

Cate was aware Danny appeared slightly reluctant to release the baby. “She probably needs to change him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny said. “Mom, when can we get a brother for me?”

Before Cate could answer, Annie chimed in. “Good luck with that,” she groaned. “We’ve been asking our mom that for months.”

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “She’s not listening to us at all.”

“But you guys have each other,” Danny replied. “I don’t have anybody to play with.”

“Sure you do. Sarah said you can come play with Timmy and Annie after school anytime you want.” Cate held out her hand. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t you want a cupcake or a petit four?”

Timmy jumped off the sofa. “Maddie made them special for us! Let’s get Beau.”

Danny took his mother’s hand as Annie scrambled off the sofa as well and raced away. “Mom, do you think that’s a good idea letting the dog have cake?”

Cate stifled a laugh. “I think if Sarah says it’s okay, it’s fine. Just take one cupcake.”

Danny grinned. “Sure, Mom.”

Cate knew that mischievous look on her son’s face. He was up to something. “Only one treat. No cookie. No petits fours. Just the cupcake.”

“Aw, Mom!” Danny stomped away as if his shoes were lined with lead.

Sarah stood next to Cate. “He’s adorable, Cate. The kids love him to pieces, and they all play so well together. Honestly, anytime you have to show a house or do an open house, we’d love to have him stay with us.”

Cate felt her smile of gratitude bloom. “Sarah, you don’t know what this means. Ever since his regular babysitter moved, I’ve been in a quandary. He hates day care, because all the kids are younger than he is. He’s only six, but he thinks he’s fifteen. He’s growing up so fast.”

Sarah smiled wistfully. “I know what you mean. Annie is so much the young lady now, it scares me. Her piano playing is astounding and her voice... Last week she asked me if she could enter the Indiana Junior Miss Pageant.”

Cate’s jaw dropped. “For real?”

“Uh-huh. You know? I think she’d win.”

“But that’s...so much, er, notoriety. I mean her photo would be everywhere. She’d be on television,” Cate replied, trying to suppress a wave of niggling fear.

“Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. Oh, absolutely,” Sarah said.

“So what are you going to do?” Cate put her fingers to her lips as if to stifle her fearful words. Cate hated that her buried demons crept up on her at times like this. Sarah’s decisions had nothing to do with her—or Danny. She and her son were safe. Secure. She’d made certain of that.

“We’ll go for it. The one thing that Luke and I agree on is that we don’t want to hold the kids back from anything within reason. Too many people go through life trying to do the sensible thing. When it’s all said and done, they wish they’d taken more risks. If the kids fail, at least they tried.”

Cate kept her gaze on Danny as he and Timmy sat on the floor with Beau, petting him. Danny was the happiest, most well-adjusted little boy she’d ever seen. She loved him beyond measure and would do anything for him.

Cate knew all about risks. She could write volumes about the determination that came from terror. Half the people in this room didn’t have the first clue about life-and-death risks. Except Luke, possibly.

He never talked about his time as a navy SEAL, but Cate had always been curious.

She supposed her caution was because she’d taken a lot of risks for Danny. Risked her life. She still risked her life for him. Daily.

No one knew that. And they never would.

“Mom! If I can’t have a baby brother, can I get a dog like Beau?” Danny asked, getting up from the floor.

He had white icing on his lips. Cate wiped his mouth with the napkin she held. “A dog? I’m not sure. But, I will think about it.”

“Promise?” Danny asked excitedly.

“Yes.” It might be time he started learning some responsibilities. “You could help out by feeding and walking it.”

Timmy patted Beau’s head. “Don’t forget cleaning up the poop. Mom wouldn’t let me do that till I was seven. I have to wear plastic gloves,” he said matter-of-factly.

Danny nodded seriously. “I could do that.”

Cate laughed. “Yes, you could.” She ruffled his hair. “We better get our things. Tomorrow is a school day.”

“I know,” Danny said dejectedly as he gave Beau one last pet.

“I have to say my goodbyes, Danny. You stay there,” Cate said, going into the kitchen where Sam Crenshaw and Gina Barzonni were pouring coffee. Ever since Gina’s husband, Angelo, had died of a sudden heart attack, Cate had noticed that Liz’s grandfather, Sam, always seemed to be at Gina’s side. Cate wouldn’t be surprised if there was something romantic brewing between the two.

Sarah was at the sink washing dishes.

“Sarah, I have to take Danny home,” Cate said. “It was a wonderful party. I think Danny would be happier if Liz let him take the baby with us.”

Gina laughed. “He’ll have to stand in line. That baby has got half the town wrapped around his tiny fingers.”

“You can say that again.” Sam smiled, pulling Gina closer to him and giving her a look that was so loving and intimate, Cate nearly winced. No one had ever looked at her like that.

She knew she’d never give anyone the chance to, either.

Sarah dried her hands. “Let me give you some cookies to take home. Luke will go nuts if I keep all this sugar in the house.”

“Thank you, Sarah. That’s so kind. Assure Luke that I’ll dole them out carefully. No sugar overload at my house.”

Sarah placed six oatmeal-and-raisin cookies inside a plastic container and snapped the lid shut. “Actually, they’re fairly healthy. I made them myself.”

Cate went to the living room and hugged her friends one by one.

Mrs. Beabots tugged on Cate’s hand and whispered, “Anytime you want to bring Danny over, I wouldn’t mind watching him. He’s such a good boy.”

“What a nice thing to say, Mrs. Beabots. I’ll do that.”

“See that you do,” Mrs. Beabots replied. “Being around the little ones keeps me young.”

Cate squeezed her hand and went to get her purse. Though she and Danny were the first ones to leave, she noticed that others were starting to say their goodnights, as well.

Cate buckled Danny in and reversed out of the drive.

Her house was on the west side of Indian Lake, though not on the lake itself. They were close enough so that she and Danny could walk to the beach, but she didn’t have the sky-high property taxes.

The 1930s Craftsman-style bungalow was Cate’s third house in town. The same week that she’d landed her first real-estate commission, she bought her first house. It had been a matchbox, but she didn’t care. It had been a start, and they hadn’t needed much since Danny was a baby then. She’d traded up until she’d finally bought this house. It was sturdy, in a good neighborhood and shouted respectability. The house was the antithesis of what Cate felt in her soul.

She would do everything in her power to make certain her son had a good life. A happy home, security and friends.

So far, Cate had provided all that.

But Danny was getting older and asking a lot of questions. Ones that she couldn’t answer or didn’t dare to.

As was her custom, she parked in the detached garage. Waiting until the automatic garage door lowered, they got out of the car. She locked it and they exited the garage through the side door, which Cate also locked, double-checking the handle to make sure it was secure. They walked the short sidewalk and up the back steps. Cate unlocked the door and they entered the kitchen.

She turned on the light, reengaged the lock and threw the inside bolt. Again, she tried the handle to make sure the door was tightly shut.

“So, Mom. Can we talk about what I was talking about?” Danny asked as he took off his jacket.

Cate glanced out the window. “What? I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did you ask?”

“A baby brother? Remember? When can we get one?” Danny stood with his hands on his little hips, his face earnest and concerned.

“Sweetie, in order to do that, I have to have a husband. And that could take a long time. Then he and I would have to decide if we want anyone besides you. Honestly, I’m very happy with the current arrangement.”

Danny shook his head. “That’s not how it works.”

“It’s not?” She couldn’t wait to hear his take on this one.

“No. You go to the attorney’s office. I saw a sign for one on Main Street. You get the baby there.”

“Who told you this?”

“Jessica. She’s in my class. Her mom can’t have any more babies. So they went to the attorney. Now she’s got a sister. I don’t want a sister. I really want a brother. Can you tell the attorney that?”

The laughter that threatened to explode from Cate was next to impossible to choke back, but she had to. Danny was so serious. This was a complication she hadn’t ever calculated. Cate knew Jessica Anderson’s parents. She’d sold them their house six months ago. She’d wondered why they’d wanted so much extra room. Now she knew.

“Sweetie, I’m pretty sure that getting a baby like Jessica’s parents did would be very expensive. Right now I can’t afford a baby that way. Plus, I also believe because they had a mommy and a daddy, the adoption went fairly well for them.”

“Hmm. Yeah. Jessica has a daddy.”

“A father is an important ingredient for an adoption.”

“But not for a family, right? Because we’re a family. Even if my daddy died. And he never got to see me.”

Cate’s heart went out to her little boy. There was so much he was missing because he didn’t have a father. Sure, there were thousands of boys without a father, but she’d never planned to be a single mother. She’d wanted the dream. A knight in shining armor. Happily-ever-after. Still, she’d been granted the most perfect child a mother could ever want.

Danny was her blessing. She’d take that.

“Yes. He never got to see you, but I know he sees you from heaven. Don’t you think?”

Danny smiled, as he always did when they talked about his father. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Time for your bath and pajamas. I’ll run the water. You pick out a book for me to read to you.”

“Okay!” Danny rushed off to his bedroom as Cate went to the bathroom.

She turned on the water, testing the temperature. She could feel fingers of gloom pulling at her. She always felt this way when Danny mentioned his father.

Brad Kramer could be dead. Should be dead if there was justice in the world, but she didn’t know for certain. She didn’t want to know.

“Mom! I found my raptor! He was under my pillow all this time!” Danny raced to the bathroom stark naked and jumped in the tub before she had a chance to slow him down.

Using a plastic tumbler, Cate doused his thick dark hair and built a foamy lather with tearless shampoo. Danny pretended his dinosaur was diving into the sea while she scrubbed his back, arms and legs. She rinsed his hair and took a towel from the wicker stand.

Danny hummed one of the songs he’d learned at school while she dried his hair and helped him into his pajamas. He was the sweetest thing, and it took a great deal of self-control to keep her kisses to less than a dozen every night.

He raced to his bedroom and scrambled between the covers. “Here,” he said, handing her a Shel Silverstein book. “You like this one.”

“My mother read that to me when I was a little girl.”

“Uh-huh. And she’s with Daddy in heaven.”

Cate felt a twinge of sorrow as she always did when she thought of her mother, who had died when Cate was seventeen. That was the year she’d met Brad.

Brad couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d walked out of a dream. He was dark haired, tall and handsome. He worked as a lifeguard at the public pool where she and her two girlfriends hung out on weekends. He was twenty-one years old and tanned, wearing the regulation black bathing trunks and aviator sunglasses. He looked like a mysterious, rock-hard model. When he asked her out for a burger one Saturday, she’d felt as if she’d walked on air. Even now, she could remember the heady rush of excitement and the thrumming of her heart when he got off his shiny chrome motorcycle at Smitty’s Hamburger Diner holding a single rose.

He worked two jobs, driving a truck during the week and working as a lifeguard on weekends—to keep up his tan.

Brad told her he’d watched her for two weeks before getting up the courage to ask her out. He told her he didn’t date much. He had to watch his expenses.

He told her she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He played old Johnny Mathis love songs on every jukebox in every diner they went to over that first month. And each time he did, he sang along, as if serenading her. He held her hand when they walked to his bike.

And he kissed her with so much passion she thought she would melt to the pavement.

Despite the fact that Cate was struggling with grief, trying to adjust to the foster home where the state forced her to live until graduation, she believed she was in love with Brad from that first night.

Cate didn’t understand the nuances of grief. She didn’t know that what she was feeling wasn’t love. She didn’t recognize that Brad was simply the force that filled the void left by her mother’s death. Cate didn’t know how to combat grief.

Over that summer, Brad offered her excitement and recklessness. She’d ridden on the back of his motorcycle, wondering if she could find her mother in the wind. They’d sped across downstate Illinois highways, through country towns, drinking beer and eating mini-mart food because they had so little money. He was wild, and she wanted to be wild, hoping the pain and grief would go away.

Brad pleaded with her to marry him. She’d been flattered. She’d felt special, even important, after months of feeling small and insignificant. Brad wanted her, and when he kissed her with so much fire and abandon, her reasoning turned to ash.

Because Cate had promised her mother she would finish high school, she kept Brad at arm’s length until she graduated. He’d been angry about that. Very angry. Cate had translated his outbursts as desire and passion. She was convinced she’d bewitched him.

The night they were married by a justice of the peace, Brad got drunk, started an argument and hit her. He swore it would never happen again. He begged her forgiveness.

He’d treated her like a queen—for five days. He bought her roses, ran her bath and brought her breakfast in bed. He said odd things that, at the time, she thought were endearments.

“You belong to me now,” he’d said. “You’re mine. All mine now that we’re married. You have my name, and I like that very much.”

A month later, it happened again. This time he was more than just drunk. His pupils were dilated, and he looked as if he had a fever. He’d told her that because they were married, he could do whatever he liked. He wanted her to be submissive. When Cate refused, he hit her and threw her against the wall. She’d hit her head and was stunned, momentarily unconscious.

The incident must have frightened him, because Brad apologized again. This time he brought home an expensive bottle of champagne and a silver bracelet she knew they couldn’t afford. When she asked him where he got the money, he told her that he’d started a “side business” to cover “extras.”

Cate didn’t trust a thing he told her.

Of all the things she was, stupid wasn’t one of them. It was as if the minute she’d agreed to marry, he changed. The challenge of winning her was gone.

She had to admit that she’d changed, too. She’d dreamed of a little house with children someday. Brad had argued that he didn’t have the kind of income to afford a house. Their very small apartment in a complex filled with people she didn’t know—who appeared to sleep all day and party by the pool all night—was not enough. She wanted more.

Each time she tried to discuss her dreams with Brad, he yelled that he would never be able to afford the things she wanted. Cate realized if she brought in a paycheck, she could make her dreams a reality. She applied for a data entry job at a nearby pool equipment company and was hired on the spot. Brad was furious. He’d stormed out of the apartment to meet his friends.

That night, Brad came home drunk, though now she realized he was high on some drug that his friends had sold him. He marched toward her with menacing eyes and balled fists. He screamed obscenities at her. Then he said, “I own you!” Before he took the first swing, Cate took action.

She ran out of the house with her wallet containing forty-two dollars. She ran. And ran.

She kept to the state highways and eventually a middle-aged woman who said she was driving from Chicago to Detroit stopped to pick her up. By the time they reached Indian Lake, they needed gas. Cate appreciated the ride, but the woman asked too many questions. It was to that woman that she’d first given her alias. Cate Sullivan. The name had come to her quickly. She’d had a classmate in grade school whose parents were Irish, and the real Cate had competed in Irish dance competitions. Cate envied her those lessons and had wanted to be that girl with both parents still alive.

In an instant, she altered her life drastically.

She’d covered over a hundred miles that night. That’s when Cate knew she was a survivor.

“Mom? The story?” Danny nudged the book toward her.

“Sorry.” She kissed the top of his head and hugged him close.

No, she thought. She was more than surviving. She was living the dream she’d wanted for herself. She had Danny, her pretty house and wonderful friends who loved her. Indian Lake was no accident in her life. It was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and she cherished every moment.

CHAPTER THREE

TRENT MADE A fresh pot of coffee and delivered a cup to Ned Quigley, the dispatcher, just as a 911 call came in. With only a skeleton crew on duty, Trent waited until Ned had written down the particulars.

“What is it?” Trent asked, sipping his coffee and thinking that one of these days he had to learn how to make decent coffee. It couldn’t be all that tough, could it?

“Home invasion. Wife’s on the phone. Appleton is a block away.” Ned patched through to the cop on duty and gave him the address. Then Ned sent two more patrols as backup. He looked at Trent.

“Where is it?” Trent asked.

“By the skating rink.”

That was only half a mile from Cate’s address. Trent knew Le Grande was too smart to draw attention to himself on the same night as a shootout with cops. So where would Le Grande have gone after the bust? To Chicago where the CPD practically had him in their sights? The guy had to know that all of Indian Lake PD was on alert for him. Most of the drug dealers coming into small towns across the Illinois border tended to underestimate local law enforcement. They thought they were dealing with hicks and idiots. Granted, the citizenry might not be as astute about drugs and dealers as Chicagoans, but the police investigators were savvy and well-informed. What men like Le Grande didn’t know was that because the number of active cases with a small-town force was much less than in a city, the investigators had time to spend on each one until it was solved.

Trent listened as Ned gave instructions to the patrol cop. Trent’s neck hairs prickled. An intruder, Ned had said.

What if Le Grande had discovered Cate’s—or Susan’s or whatever her name was—existence here in Indian Lake just as he had? Would he go to her? There was a possibility that Trent had shot him. Winged him, maybe. If Le Grande knew about Cate, he might have gone to her for help. Even if she was resistant, Le Grande might think he could get money from her. Steal a car or coerce her to drive him out of town.

Then there was the question of Cate-Susan herself. Was she a cover for Le Grande? Part of his gang? Had she scoped the town for him, pretending to be someone she wasn’t?

There was no criminal record on her or any reason for Trent to suspect that she was dealing drugs. She had a kid, after all. Not that a kid would stop an addict mother from using or dealing.

She didn’t strike him as anything but a model citizen.

But she’d been married to Le Grande.

If Le Grande went to her and needed help, would she do it?

As usual when new information on a case came to light, it posed a myriad of new questions. Trent knew exactly what to do.

Investigate.

Following Richard’s advice, Trent would keep this new info quiet. There were too many leaks in any organization. “The chief at home tonight?”

“Should be. You need him?”

“Nah. Just curious. I didn’t finish my report.”

“Slacker,” Ned joked.

“I’m going out for a sandwich. You want anything?” Trent took out his car keys.

“No, but thanks,” Ned replied as another call came in.

Trent decided to call the chief from his car and fill him in about Cate.

He exited the station and went to his unmarked car. As he climbed in, he had the eerie feeling that Le Grande was close. Trent had looked the man straight in the face. It was the blink of an eye, but they’d exchanged that look—the one between foes—the hunter and the prey. In Le Grande’s case, his look communicated the steely belief that he, Le Grande, was the hunter and Trent was the prey.

He’s here. He never left, Trent thought as he turned the key. The engine roared. He smiled. Two years ago, Trent had bought a high-performance Mercedes-Benz engine at a Chicago junkyard. Being an amateur wrencher, he installed the engine into his unmarked car—at his own expense. He’d had some help from Kenny at Indian Lake Service Garage, but he’d gotten the job done. When the day came that he was in pursuit of a drug dealer in a Porsche, Trent would be well-equipped for the task.

Trent patted his shoulder holster as was his habit every time he left the station. He’d cleaned his gun and filled the magazine at the station after the shoot-out. If, by any chance, he came up against Le Grande, Trent didn’t want to be short. He checked to make sure his cell phone was on, the dispatch radio was tuned into the station and he checked to make certain he had a full tank of gas.