toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit jacket, making a mental note to retrieve the tie he’d jammed into its pocket before he’d made the drive across town.
After the din in the conference room for the last several hours, the silence of his home seemed blessed. With singleminded focus, he headed toward the kitchen. The thought of relaxing with his feet up and a cold beer had been all that had gotten him through the political jockeying that had eaten up the last few hours at headquarters.
He hung his suit jacket over the back of a chair. The shoulder harness and weapon had been locked in the gun safe in his trunk before he came into the house. The dim light of the open fridge split the darkness when he pulled the door open and reached inside, mentally cataloging the games he still had DVR’d. The 76ers were winding down their season. And although it hadn’t exactly been a resounding success, he was a fan through thick and thin.
Things had been on the thin side lately.
Twisting the cap off his beer, he took a drink and then padded toward the family room that held his big screen. Halfway there, something caught his eye and he paused, senses heightened.
The last bedroom’s door was shut. It was never closed. Not at night. But there was a telltale glow seeping beneath the door. He approached it silently. Easing it open, he was unsurprised to see the figure that should have been under the covers sleeping, sitting up staring fixedly at the lava lamp someone had put on the bedside table.
“Pretty late for Spider-Man to be awake.”
Tucker didn’t turn. Didn’t respond. He wouldn’t. The constant forming and reforming of the hot wax in the lamp never failed to transfix him.
Nate padded into the room, sat down on the side of the bed next to his nephew. “You have school tomorrow, bud. What’s Mrs. Mallory going to say if you fall asleep in class again?”
“Sleep is food for the brain.”
The tone and pitch of his voice was eerily similar to that of his special education teacher. Nate hid a grin. The kid was an excellent mimic. “That’s right. And you don’t want to nap through recess again. That’s no fun. C’mon.” This was where it got tricky. Tuck didn’t do well transitioning from one task to another. Especially when one of those tasks involved sleeping. “We don’t want to wake your mom.”
“Momma has to go out now.”
Nate’s smile abruptly dissipated, although Tucker’s rendition of Kristin’s voice was just as dead-on as his teacher’s. “Your mom isn’t here?”
“You watch the pretty light until Uncle Nate gets home.” He still hadn’t shifted his gaze from the pink and blue light surrounding the bubbling wax. And Nate felt an all too familiar surge of emotion. Dread. Anger. Frustration.
Helplessness.
Without another word he rose, went out the door and down the hallway to the next bedroom. But he already knew he wouldn’t find Kristin in her room, even though her car had been in the garage.
Earlier thoughts of relaxation had vanished. His hands closed into fists, and it took far more effort than it should have to squelch his first impulse. To track his sister down by checking all her old haunts. Her former “friends” who had always been more than happy to accompany her on whatever self-destructive path she was bent on. One of which must have picked her up to take her . . . wherever she’d run off to.
He forced himself to concentrate on what was important. The boy in the next room. For the last few years Nate had done what he could to protect him. Even from his mother.
Especially from his mother.
It wasn’t easy to shift his focus away from Kristin’s possible slide off the wagon. Away from whatever liquor she might even now be pouring down her throat. She wasn’t his priority anymore. Tucker was.
He rejoined his nephew in his bedroom. The boy hadn’t moved. He probably hadn’t in the hours since he’d been left alone. “You know what makes that light
After the din in the conference room for the last several hours, the silence of his home seemed blessed. With singleminded focus, he headed toward the kitchen. The thought of relaxing with his feet up and a cold beer had been all that had gotten him through the political jockeying that had eaten up the last few hours at headquarters.
He hung his suit jacket over the back of a chair. The shoulder harness and weapon had been locked in the gun safe in his trunk before he came into the house. The dim light of the open fridge split the darkness when he pulled the door open and reached inside, mentally cataloging the games he still had DVR’d. The 76ers were winding down their season. And although it hadn’t exactly been a resounding success, he was a fan through thick and thin.
Things had been on the thin side lately.
Twisting the cap off his beer, he took a drink and then padded toward the family room that held his big screen. Halfway there, something caught his eye and he paused, senses heightened.
The last bedroom’s door was shut. It was never closed. Not at night. But there was a telltale glow seeping beneath the door. He approached it silently. Easing it open, he was unsurprised to see the figure that should have been under the covers sleeping, sitting up staring fixedly at the lava lamp someone had put on the bedside table.
“Pretty late for Spider-Man to be awake.”
Tucker didn’t turn. Didn’t respond. He wouldn’t. The constant forming and reforming of the hot wax in the lamp never failed to transfix him.
Nate padded into the room, sat down on the side of the bed next to his nephew. “You have school tomorrow, bud. What’s Mrs. Mallory going to say if you fall asleep in class again?”
“Sleep is food for the brain.”
The tone and pitch of his voice was eerily similar to that of his special education teacher. Nate hid a grin. The kid was an excellent mimic. “That’s right. And you don’t want to nap through recess again. That’s no fun. C’mon.” This was where it got tricky. Tuck didn’t do well transitioning from one task to another. Especially when one of those tasks involved sleeping. “We don’t want to wake your mom.”
“Momma has to go out now.”
Nate’s smile abruptly dissipated, although Tucker’s rendition of Kristin’s voice was just as dead-on as his teacher’s. “Your mom isn’t here?”
“You watch the pretty light until Uncle Nate gets home.” He still hadn’t shifted his gaze from the pink and blue light surrounding the bubbling wax. And Nate felt an all too familiar surge of emotion. Dread. Anger. Frustration.
Helplessness.
Without another word he rose, went out the door and down the hallway to the next bedroom. But he already knew he wouldn’t find Kristin in her room, even though her car had been in the garage.
Earlier thoughts of relaxation had vanished. His hands closed into fists, and it took far more effort than it should have to squelch his first impulse. To track his sister down by checking all her old haunts. Her former “friends” who had always been more than happy to accompany her on whatever self-destructive path she was bent on. One of which must have picked her up to take her . . . wherever she’d run off to.
He forced himself to concentrate on what was important. The boy in the next room. For the last few years Nate had done what he could to protect him. Even from his mother.
Especially from his mother.
It wasn’t easy to shift his focus away from Kristin’s possible slide off the wagon. Away from whatever liquor she might even now be pouring down her throat. She wasn’t his priority anymore. Tucker was.
He rejoined his nephew in his bedroom. The boy hadn’t moved. He probably hadn’t in the hours since he’d been left alone. “You know what makes that light
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