"Some." Dana's eyes were serene. Calming. "Why will her mother not be tested?"
"Annabelle always blamed her daughters for everything. If they'd been sons, life would have been different, she thought. If they'd been sons, Bobby Mitchell would have found another reason to be abusive. It was who he was. Kelsey and Mia paid the price."
"Does she love her mother?"
Dana lifted a shoulder. "I think she feels obligated. You're trying to find some sense in a senseless thing. That if she loved her mother despite everything, that your actions would be somehow more justified. That's not how it works."
"You sound like a shrink," he muttered and she laughed softly.
"Go get some sleep, Reed. I'll sit with her and I'll call you as soon as she wakes up. I promise." She waited until he'd heaved himself to his feet before handing him a bag from the bookstore. "I found this in my living room. She brought a book to Jeremy on Sunday and left this behind. It's for you." One side of her mouth lifted. "It wasn't her normal reading material so I peeked inside. Make sure you read the note."
He waited until he was back in his hotel room, alone for the first time since… since Saturday night, he realized. When he sat in his living room and realized she made him happy. She'd wake up. She had to. He couldn't believe anything else.
He drew the book from the bag and frowned. It was poetry. Hard-assed, sarcastic verse by a guy named Bukowski. It was titled Love Is a Dog from Hell. He drew a breath and opened to the note she'd penned. Like everything else, Mia's handwriting was open, sprawling and messy.
It's not my heart. More like my spleen. But my own words are awkward and this guy says what I feel. Maybe I like poetry after all.
Not her heart? Oh. He closed his eyes, remembering. The night she'd seen the ring around his neck. He'd been reading Christine's book of poetry. When he woke, it was on his nightstand. Mia must have read Christine's inscription. Now Christine's book filled with lyrical beauty was gone and in his hands he held a new book of raw, passionate, sometimes angry words. But the sentiment touched him deep and as he sat reading the book she'd chosen, he finally let the tears he'd held back for days fall.
She'd be okay. Mia was too hardheaded to accept any other outcome. So am I.
Chapter Twenty-five
Monday, December 11, 3:55 p.m.
A nurse stuck her head in the room. "You have a visitor, Detective."
Mia wanted to groan. Her head hurt. She'd had a steady stream of visitors since being moved into her own room. She could have told the nurses to make them stop, but every person was someone she loved. And someone who loved her. A headache was a small price to pay. "Sure, send him in." Jeremy peeked around the corner and Mia smiled. "Hey, kid."
"Hey." He approached the bed. "You look better."
"I feel better." She patted the mattress. "How's school?" He gingerly climbed up beside her. "My teacher made a mistake today."
"She did? Tell me."
And he did, telling her about his teacher's mispronunciation of some Babylonian king Mia had never heard of, speaking very gravely as Mia had learned was his way. As he talked, the headache eased and she put the worry over the states of her body and her career from her mind. This child was safe. She'd done something important.
Now she wanted Jeremy to be more than safe. Occasionally he smiled and once in the last week he even laughed.
He seemed content at Dana's, but somehow that wasn't enough. She wanted him to be happy, not just content.
He finished his tale and after a long pause and careful study of her face said, "You made a mistake that day." He frowned. "Actually, you lied."
Which day didn't need to be specified. "I did?"
He nodded. "You told Kates I never said a word about him. You lied."
"Hmm." So the teacher story was merely a clever segue. "I suppose I did. Would you have preferred I told the truth?"
He shook his head. "No." He bit his lip. "My mom lied, too."
Ahh. "You mean when she said she hndn't seen him? She was protecting you."
"So were you." He straightened abruptly. "I want to live with you."
She blinked. Opened her mouth. Denials and reasons why not sprung to her mind, but none would pass through her lips. There was only one answer she could give this child who'd been through so much. "Okay." And she'd find a way to make it happen if she had to move heaven and earth. "But I have to warn you, I'm a bad cook."
"It's okay." He snuggled down beside her, the remote in his hand. "I've been watching cooking shows. It doesn't look too hard. I think I can cook for us."
She laughed and kissed the top of his head. "Good."
Monday, December 11, 5:15 p.m.
Dana had come for Jeremy and Mia was again alone. She had much to ponder. She'd gained a cat and a boyfriend and a kid. And she'd lost a kidney and a career, all in two weeks time. Kates was dead, by Reed's hand. Jeremy was alive. And so was her mother. She'd have sacrificed nearly anything to save Jeremy, but the saving of her mother had sacrificed her career and that seemed a high price to pay.
I should have killed Kates when I had the chance, she thought. When he'd held the knife to her mother's throat, it was as if it were a stranger sitting there. She'd saved her mother, risking her own life. But she'd risked her life for strangers many times.
A stranger would be more likely to give her a kidney, though. It was hard not to be bitter about that. I'll live. And pragmatically that was the important thing. But her career was over unless a donor could be found. Kelsey wasn't a match, nor was Dana or Reed or Murphy or any of her friends who'd stepped up to the plate without being asked. Apparently even Carmichael had been typed, but no cigar.
Olivia was a solid fixture in her mind, but it wasn't something Mia felt she could ask. They were strangers. Maybe, someday, they'd be friends. If so, Mia wanted it to be for the right reasons, not because she'd cultivated a relationship in the hopes of begging a kidney. That seemed… cheeky.
So it seemed a career change was in the near future. So what will I be? It was an interesting question and not a little terrifying. But she didn't have to think about that now. Now she was taking the break Spinnelli had promised. But not at the beach and her skin was going the opposite way of a tan. But I'll live.
"Hey." Reed came in, carrying a newspaper in one hand and a big plastic bag in the other. "How are you feeling?"
"Headache, but other than that, okay. I swear, Solliday, if you have a box of condoms in that sack, then you'd better find another woman."
He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her gently. "I never thought I'd miss your smart mouth." He handed her the paper. "Thought you'd want to see this." The headline read //smc local newscaster indicted for extortion. The byline was Carmichael's.
Mia's lips twitched. "This is much better than any of that pain reliever you keep shoving down my throat." She scanned the page and looked up with a grin. "Holly Wheaton's going to be broadcasting from a cell. I never thought that threat would be a reality."
"You know, you told me why she hated you. You never told me why you hated her."
"It seems so unimportant now. Remember I told you about how I fought with Guy in that fancy restaurant and gave him back his ring? Well, somebody had tipped Wheaton off that we were there and fighting. She'd been demoted from headline news to the society gossip stuff because no cops would let her near a crime scene. Anyway, Wheaton was waiting outside the restaurant with a camera. Asked me it it was true that Guy and I had broken up. It wasn't even good gossip. It was just spiteful."