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  Danielle blinked, and Bob had gone quiet.

  Mike realized they thought he was crazy, but so be it.

  Maybe he was.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Mike closed the lid of the third and last box, having gone through wedding photos, passports, old pictures, sketches, their marriage license, recent bills, their new wills, life-insurance policies, an old deed, an old house-insurance policy, and three baby albums that Chloe had made while he was deployed. None of it had contained anything that related to the identity of Mac702.

  Mike sat cross-legged on the rug, sad and exhausted. Every task was made more difficult with one arm, and his stump was killing him, swelling from the activity, but he still wanted to look through Chloe’s black-lacquered jewelry box. She used to put receipts, bills, and anything she thought was important inside, and he lifted the lid. The jewelry glittered in the light of the desk lamp, a tangled pile of gold chains, earrings, and necklaces along with old photos, some receipts, and some sea-glass beads.

  Mike’s throat caught at the sight. He had given her a lot of the jewelry and remembered it on her. The delicate rose gold chain that rested on her collarbones, the long garnet earrings that got tangled in her hair, the string of silvery Tibetan bells that jingled when she moved. He looked away, to the pile of wrinkly receipts on top of the rings. He checked each one, but they were from the bookstore, the dry cleaners, and a shoe repair. He was about to close the lid when he spotted an ornate gold bangle he hadn’t seen before. The gold had scrolled etching, gleaming with a richness that was unmistakably eighteen-karat.

  Mike’s mouth went dry. He’d never seen the bracelet before and he hadn’t given it to her, and she certainly hadn’t bought it for herself. She didn’t shop much since Emily was born, and even so, this looked too expensive for her to have bought herself, or for Sara to have bought for her. At eighteen-karat gold, it could’ve cost a grand. He realized with a start that Mac702 must have given it to her.

  Mike got up, grabbed a Kleenex, and wrapped it around the bracelet. The police might be able to get fingerprints from it, or they could go to jewelry stores in the area and ask if they sold any bracelets like it in November or December of last year, and to whom. It seemed like a great lead, and he’d bring the bracelet to the police tomorrow. He went to the door, buoyed by his success and getting his second wind.

  He’d go through that storage unit, if it took him all night.

  Chapter Fifty

  Mike didn’t get home until early the next morning, but the kitchen lights were on, so he knew the household was already awake. “I’m home,” he said, hanging up his coat, and even that simple act set nerves jangling through his chest, shoulders, and neck. His stump needed to be rested and elevated, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon. He headed into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Mike.” Bob sat at the table in his plaid robe, catty-corner to Emily in her high chair, and Danielle was on the baby’s other side, in her robe too, looking at him with concern.

  “You poor thing, were you in that storage shed all night? Did you find anything?”

  “Not there, no. Hi, Emily.” Mike smiled at Emily, who squirmed at the sight of him. She looked adorable in a fuzzy yellow sleeper with an embroidered giraffe, and her amber curls were flattened on one side, as if she’d slept on them.

  “Aw, Emily.” Danielle leaned over to her. “Emily, it’s just Daddy. Daddy’s home. Say, hi Daddy.”

  Emily’s eyes were a confused blue, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, and Mike remembered the boxes of her baby pictures from last night. There were so many photos he hadn’t seen before, and looking through them, he felt as if he’d vicariously experienced her growing from baby to toddler.

  “Emily, it’s Daddy. I’m happy to see you. How are you?”

  Emily blinked, puckering her lips and drawing backwards, so that her soft chin vanished into the folds of her neck. Her hands were slick with butter from scrambled eggs on her plate. “No,” she said, pointing at the window.

  “No?” Mike asked, not understanding.

  “She said ‘snow.’” Danielle gestured at the windows, where another few inches had fallen, clumping on the shrubs and filling in the deer tracks. “It’s hard to understand her if you’re not around her. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  Bob chuckled. “Danielle’s the family interpreter.”

  “Right, snow,” Mike said, but Emily was looking away. He crossed to the coffeemaker, slid out the pot, and poured himself a mug. An under-cabinet TV played the local news on low volume, and a weatherman in a bowtie stuck a yardstick into a snowdrift. Mike had practically frozen in the storage unit last night. “So how are you all?”

  “Great,” Danielle answered, beginning to rise. “You want eggs or pancakes? Bob had both.”

  “No, please sit. I ate at a diner.” Mike waved Danielle back into her seat. “Again, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “We are, too.” Danielle smiled in a reassuring way. “It’s over. Families fuss, it’s normal.”

  Bob sipped his coffee. “Perfectly normal.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said, relieved. “Did you hear anything from Don or the police?”

  “No.”

  “I did find something in Chloe’s jewelry box, a bangle that I think she was given by Mac702.” Mike sipped his coffee. “I’m going to turn it over to the police today.”

  “A bangle?” Danielle lifted an eyebrow.

  “Really?” Bob brought his mug and plate to the sink. “What does that tell you?”

  “I figure the police can go to the jewelry stores and ask if they sold any bracelets like it in November or December of last year, or maybe they can get fingerprints from it.”

  “They can do that on Castle.” Danielle watched Emily, who was pressing scrambled eggs into her mouth. “The police can do so much, nowadays. They can get latent prints and even partial prints. They can even get fingerprints from paper, did you know that?”

  Bob rolled his eyes, turning from the sink. “Nancy Drew, reporting in.”

  “Hmph,” Danielle said lightly, smiling at Emily. “Emily, you finished your breakfast? Did you like that?”

  “No,” Emily answered, then laughed.

  Mike smiled. “Was that a no or a snow?”

  “I think it was a no.” Danielle wiggled Emily’s foot in its non-skid footie. “You little sillyhead.”

  Mike winked at Emily impulsively, and she tried to wink back, scrunching up her nose and squinting both eyes. It was so great and unexpected, he almost laughed. He winked again, and Emily winked back again.

  Danielle looked over with a smile. “Emily, Daddy’s flirting with you. Can you wink? Wink back at your Daddy.” She winked in an exaggerated way. “Like this, see? Wink your eye.”

  “I do it.” Emily scrunched up her nose and squinted both eyes, and they all laughed.

  “Good job!” Mike said, completely charmed.

  Bob kissed the baby on her head. “I gotta go grab a shower. I have to go to the office today, after church. Self-employment is a trip, isn’t it? You always have a job, but you always have a job. Tell me how the Eagles do, will you?”

  “I can’t, I’m going to see about work, too.” Mike had been trading emails with Jim. “I’m meeting with Jim and Lyon at the office today.”

  Bob smiled, pleasantly. “Good. Back in the saddle, eh?”

  Danielle smiled, too. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Mike.”

  “Thanks.” Mike sensed they were all on their best behavior. “I’ll know more after rehab about what I can and can’t do, but I want to understand my options.”

  Bob patted his shoulder. “I hear that. You’ll come with us to church, right?”

  Mike flashed on the church where he’d fallen, trying to hold Emily. He thought of Chloe’s casket. Phat Phil, Oldstein, and now Sara. “Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t been in so long.”

  “So what?” Bob frowned. “You’re welcome, you know that.”

  �
�What about Emily? Do you get a sitter?”

  “No, we take her.”

  “Emily goes to church?” Mike kept the surprise from his tone. Chloe would have approved, but he was getting a better idea. “Guys, why don’t you two go to church and leave Emily home with me? I’ll take care of her.”

  “Really?” Bob asked.

  “Sure, why not? It gives you guys a break.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Danielle rose, tying her bathrobe tighter, but it wasn’t loose. “We don’t need a break, and we like to take her. Everyone loves to see her, even Father Hernandez.”

  Mike was about to give in, to make them happy, but he noticed Emily’s gaze fixed on him, and in the next second, she scrunched up her nose in another Emily-wink. It was so cute he felt his heart jump, which he knew wasn’t medically possible. “No, really, I’d like to stay here with her. I’ve hardly seen her.”

  “You sure?” Danielle lingered beside the high chair, resting her hand protectively on the plastic tray. “She’ll have separation anxiety. I don’t leave her very often.”

  “It’s only for an hour or so.” Mike wanted to be closer to Emily and he had to start somewhere.

  “It’s not easy, you know.”

  “Nobody’s shooting at us, are they?” Mike smiled more confidently than he truly felt. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Mike had expected Emily to be upset after Danielle and Bob left, but not this upset. He sat cross-legged on the floor, and she stood in her yellow sleeper at the front door, pounding it with her little fists, as if she could break it down and run after them. She cried hysterically, her face turning red, her eyes pouring tears, and her nose streaming.

  “Mommy!” Emily sobbed. “Daddy!”

  “It’s okay, Emily. They’ll be back soon, you’ll see.” Mike kept his tone soothing, though she couldn’t hear him anyway. She’d burst into tears the moment they closed the door, twenty minutes ago, and showed no signs of flagging. Mike had no idea how to calm her down and had never felt more useless in his life.

  “Mommy! Daddy!”

  “Don’t cry, Emily. Want to read a book, honey?” Mike picked up a book called Spot Goes to School, from a pile on the floor. “Look, sweetheart, here’s a book about Spot the dog. The teacher wants to sing, but where’s Spot? Look, open the flap and here’s Spot. Aw, Spot is sad because he can’t sing.” Mike rejected that as unhelpful, picked up another book, and held it up.

  “Here’s one about Spot at school. What did you bring, Spot?” Mike lifted the flap. “Look, Emily. Spot brought his bone!” He held the book high, but she didn’t turn around, so he turned the page. “Here’s Spot on the playground. Where’s Spot, Emily?” He opened the flap. “There’s Spot, in the tree!”

  Emily bawled harder.

  Mike gave up on Spot, found a book about cats, and held it up, shifting into her field of vision. “Emily, look at the cats. Don’t cry.” He opened to the first page. “Here’s a picture of a cat and a lion. See?”

  Emily hiccupped tears, inconsolable, and Mike was sad, for her. He could see that she thought her parents had just walked out on her, never to come back, and he couldn’t imagine how awful that felt, until he remembered that his father had done just that. He never wanted Emily to feel that desolate, ever.

  “Aw, honey, don’t be sad, I’m here, Daddy’s here, and we can read books and have fun. Just give it a chance.” Mike heard himself begging, but that was fine, if it worked. He turned a page in the cat book. “Look, Emily, here’s cats cleaning themselves. They lick their feet to make sure they’re nice and clean.” He spotted a Maine Coon Cat that looked exactly like Jake. “Look, Emily, here’s Jake the cat. Remember Jake, our cat?”

  Emily looked over miserably, resting her hands on the front door. She didn’t stop crying, but Mike could see he had gotten her attention. Last night, he’d seen plenty of photos of Emily with Jake, and it was possible that she remembered him.

  “Hi, Jake the cat. I love you, Jake. Jake was a great cat.” Mike turned the page, and there was a picture of a calico cat playing with a mouse toy. “Look at the cat with his toy! I love cats. Do you like cats, Emily?”

  Emily sniffled, but her sobs slowed, and Mike sensed the cat book was doing the trick. He turned the next page. “Emily, look at the kitten. There’s two baby kittens. This is an Abyssinian cat and kittens.” He eyed the photo of a mother cat with two kittens and edited it on the fly. “There’s two kittens with their daddy. Look at the kittens with their daddy. They love each other. Isn’t that so nice?”

  Emily looked over, heaving a final sniffle. Tears wet her cheeks and mucus leaked from her nose, but her crying fit was ending. Mike wanted to jump for joy, but he was learning that he did better if he stayed calm. He didn’t want to jinx himself, like a pitcher on a lucky streak.

  “Emily, look at the cat, rubbing on the person’s leg. Jake did that. I love cats.” Mike turned the page, which showed a picture of a lion. Emily had only one hand on the door now and was trying to see the book, so he turned the page. “Here’s the lion, king of the jungle.” He worked the propaganda angle. “He’s the daddy lion, and he takes care of his family. The daddy lion loves his family.”

  Emily toddled over, keeping her distance but focusing on the book with teary eyes, and Mike felt so relieved that she was finally relaxing around him, and he turned the page. “This shows a leopard. It says that leopards live in Africa. Wow, I love leopards.” He kept his voice warm and happy. “Look at all the spots on this leopard. It’s just like Jake. All the cats are alike, whether they’re big or little. I love them all.”

  Emily stood silently beside him, wavering slightly, her arms hanging loosely at her sides and her eyes brimming, though no new tears were flowing. Mike flipped to the next page. “Here we go. These are cats that live in the forest. Aren’t they cute? Here’s one who lives in South America. He sleeps in the trees during the day.”

  Emily pointed a goopy finger at the page. “Big.”

  “Right, big.” Mike realized she had spoken to him, for the third time in her life, after “no” and “snow.” He wanted to keep his streak going. “He’s a big cat. This is a whole book about big cats. Isn’t that so nice? I love big cats.” He turned the page, skipped the scary cheetah, and went ahead. “Oh look at this. Here’s a Scottish wildcat, an African wildcat, and an Indian Desert cat. There are so many different kinds of big cats in the world.”

  Emily kept her glistening eyes on the page, but plopped down, tucking her legs under her, and Mike couldn’t believe it. She sat right next to him, but he acted natural and turned to a picture of an orange Persian cat. “Look at this cat. He has eyes that are nice and orange, aren’t they? I think he’s beautiful. Don’t you?”

  Suddenly, Emily got up, toddled over to the book pile, and started to paw through them. “I want metamin.”

  “Which one, honey?” Mike asked, but Emily found a small white book and was having trouble with the pages. He shifted toward her and saw its cover. “Oh, The Tale of Benjamin Bunny.” He realized she’d been saying Benjamin. “I like Benjamin, too. Would you like me to read that book to you?”

  “Yes.” Emily handed him the book, and Mike wanted to cheer. He was up to four words. They were actually talking to each other.

  “I would love to read it to you, honey. Let’s read about Benjamin.” Mike shifted over, rested his back against the couch, and opened the first page. “Oh, look at this little brown bunny rabbit. That’s Benjamin, I bet.” He began to read, and by the third sentence, Emily was standing beside him, looking down at the book, listening. He continued, and Emily sat down beside him, quietly, but he didn’t show any reaction. He merely kept on, and it struck him that he was reading to Emily for the first time, his first “first.” There were tears in his eyes when he read, The End.

  “Again!” Emily said suddenly, and Mike smiled, delighted.

  “You want me to read it again?”

  “Yes.�
�� Emily looked up at him with shiny blue eyes, and Mike’s throat caught.

  “Great, let’s read it again.” He went to the beginning of the book and started to read, this time showing her different things in the illustrations. He noticed her eyelids getting heavy, so he pulled a big pillow from the couch onto the floor, leaned back, and rested his head, leaving room for her. “Honey, let’s lie down. Put your head here, and we’ll finish reading about Benjamin, okay?”

  Mike held his breath, fearing he’d pushed his luck, but Emily scooted down, stretched out her little legs, and plopped her curly head beside him on the pillow, an act so trusting and tender that he fell completely in love with her. His heart filled with a happiness he’d never known.

  Mike read until Emily fell asleep, her miniature chest rising and falling, then he closed the book and let his gaze travel over her beautiful face, taking in her features as if he were memorizing them, like the curl of her eyelashes, the hillock of her nose, and the gentle curve of her cheeks, where her tears had dried. She really did look like some sort of angel, a golden child with a halo of blonde curls. He felt so blessed to have her, and he understood as an epiphany that the state of fatherhood was a state of grace. He vowed silently, then and there, that he would love Emily, take care of her, and always put her first, until his very last breath.

  He drifted off with peace in his heart and a smile on his face, feeling that, in a way, he had gone to church, after all.

  But he woke up to the sound of screaming.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  “No!” someone shrieked, and Mike shot up from the floor, with a thousand panicked thoughts. Insurgents. IEDs. Gunfire. Wounded. He came to his senses in a flash. Bob and Danielle were charging up the stairs, toward the sound of crying.