A Cold Day in Hell Read online

  Lauren took the weekend off to spend with Lindsey. She usually worked overtime now that both girls were in school, but not this time. The date was circled in red pen: Friday, August 18th. Her first born, her little angel, now at Penn State studying criminal psychology. Lauren waited, watching expectantly out the front window, when Lindsey texted her she was ten minutes out. After what seemed like an eternity, a small green Ford turned into her driveway. Lauren tried not to run out the door, controlling her stride as she walked down the front steps.

  The first thing Lauren noticed when Lindsey got out of the car was the weight she had put on. The thin waif was gone and replaced with a curvy woman. She was the spitting image of Lauren, down to the freckles across her nose. Lauren still had a few inches on her, but that was the biggest difference. Erin took after her father, dark hair cut pixie short, chocolate brown eyes. She was a slight, tiny, studious type; the perfect art student. Erin had wanted to study art history in New York City, but decided it was too close and jetted off to Duke. Daughter number two would get her own smother treatment in a couple of weeks.

  Screw it, Lauren sprinted across the lawn and hugged Lindsey in the driveway. My baby’s home.

  “Easy, Mom,” Lindsey laughed. “I’m in Pennsylvania, not Tibet.”

  “It seems that way sometimes.”

  She pulled two bags out of the back seat. “It’s only a six-hour drive. You can come visit any time you want.”

  “Will you take me to a frat party? I’ve never been to one.”

  “No.” Lindsey slung one of her bags over her shoulder and handed the other to her mother. “I wouldn’t want all the hockey guys hitting on my mom.”

  They walked together into the house. It seemed more complete now with her there, more like the home they’d shared together all those years. Lindsey raced up the stairs to make sure her bedroom was intact. Lauren went into the kitchen to get some iced tea.

  Lindsey came back down and walked into the kitchen with folded arms. “Okay, Mom, who is he?”

  “Who is who?”

  “Who is the guy you’re dating?”

  “I’m not dating anyone.”

  “Then why are a bunch of your dirty clothes on my closet floor? You don’t fast clean your bedroom unless someone else is going to see it.”

  “Is that what they teach you in college?”

  “Among other things.” She sat facing her mom and took her glass of iced tea. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. Is he nice? Do I know him?”

  Lauren hesitated. Lindsey picked up on it. Now she was going to be relentless. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Mark. I was seeing Mark for a little while, but now I’m not.”

  “Mark? You mean Dad? Mom, he’s married.”

  “Yes, daughter, I’m aware. That’s why I referred to the dating part in the past tense.”

  Lindsey slapped her forehead. “I should’ve known. I’m so stupid. He sent me front-row seats to a concert in Pittsburgh a few weeks ago. The card said he was thinking of me.”

  “He always sends you and Erin things.”

  “No, this was different. The tone was different, the wording, like he was wondering if I knew.”

  “Now you know.”

  “Why’d you stop seeing him?”

  She paused, not really believing she was having this conversation with her daughter. “Because he’s married and I don’t do those things, and I don’t want you or your sister to think that kind of thing is okay.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom.” She laughed. “Don’t blame this on us. If you really wanted to date him, you would. Why’d you actually break up?”

  She sighed. Lindsey was just like her. “I stopped seeing him because he’s married. I wanted him to end it with his wife. I told him to get his act together and then we’d see what happens.”

  “Very brave, Mom.”

  “I don’t feel brave.”

  Lindsey sipped her iced tea and reflected on this. “Do you love him?”

  “I’ve always loved him. That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “If he left his wife for me today, he’d still be a cheat and a liar. I’d never be able to trust him and I know I still haven’t forgiven him, so what kind of a future would we have?”

  She shrugged. “I guess. But you two have never really let go of each other.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” She looked around. “I live in the house he bought me. My daughters call him dad. Maybe I need to cut all ties with him and live my life.”

  Lindsey smirked. “Let me know how that works out for you.”

  “You’ll be the first to know, Princess Lindsey.” She decided it was time to change the subject. “What do you want to do today?”

  “Can we go to the mall or something? Get our eyebrows waxed?”

  She looked at her daughter. “What?”

  Lindsey smirked. “Mom, you can’t let those things grow wild. It looks like you have a caterpillar on your forehead.”

  Lauren reached up and felt between her eyes. “Is it that bad?”

  “Don’t you have any friends that will tell you these things?”

  “Dayla, but she’s usually drunk.”

  “Waxing is no joke, Mom.” Lindsey put her hands on her hips. “And if you’re letting those things sprout, what else are you neglecting to maintain?”

  “I never thought I would be having this conversation with you.” Lauren grabbed her purse with a wicked smile. “Let’s go.”

  They spent the rest of the day in retail therapy and wax treatments. About three o’clock in the afternoon, Violanti texted her that he had received the discovery material. She didn’t bother to answer him because she was trying on flowery summer hats at an absurdly expensive store downtown. I’ll be damned if Violanti thinks I’m working for him today, she thought, twirling in the mirror. Lindsey pulled out her cell and they took a selfie with their hats and sent it to Erin.

  They decided to go to dinner at an Italian place on Main Street. Lauren was in a ridiculously good mood. Being with Lindsey was exactly what she needed after what happened with Mark, coupled with the Stenz incident. It was still hot as the sun was going down, so they decided to eat outside on the sidewalk patio. A cool breeze was blowing off the lake as they enjoyed watching the people strolling by while they ate.

  Halfway through their entrees, Lauren noticed a familiar face. “Hey, Reese,” she called to her partner, who was walking along toward them.

  “Hey, Lauren,” he replied. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, his short brown hair covered with a baseball cap. Reese played in college and was obsessed with stats and standings. Lauren removed the considerable pile of shopping bags from the third seat at the table and invited him to join them.

  “I was just going to meet my friends down the street for a beer,” he explained as he slid in, forming a triangle at the little round table.

  “Lucky for us. Reese, this is my oldest daughter Lindsey. Lindsey, this is my partner, Shane Reese.”

  “Hi, Shane.” She reached over her ravioli to shake his hand.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you. You can call me Reese, everyone does.”

  Lindsey blushed and looked down into her glass. “Okay. But Shane is a great name.”

  Oh no, Lauren thought, watching the dynamics of the moment, my daughter is flirting with my partner. He smiled. A full, toothpaste-commercial smile. “Thanks. When you’re done, why don’t you two join us down at Flannigan’s?”

  “She’s not twenty-one,” Lauren reminded him.

  “She doesn’t have to drink. They put those little wrist band things on if you’re underage. Don’t be such a stick in the mud. My friends have been waiting to meet my famous partner for years now.”

  Lauren looked at Lindsey, who was urging her with her eyes
to accept. She knew she didn’t have a good reason to say no, other than that she didn’t want her partner to hook up with her daughter. “When we’re done, we’ll walk down.”

  “Great. I’m already late, so I’ll see you there. Lindsey, fantastic to meet you. See you both in a little while.” Jumping up, he waved goodbye as he headed towards the bar.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Lindsey squealed, “Mom, why didn’t you ever tell me your partner was hot? And young?”

  “I don’t look at him like that.” She’d done her best over the years not to bring work home with her. Even when she’d needed Reese to come over and help with one fixer-upper problem or another, she always made sure the girls were at school.

  “Is there any other way to look at him? Did you see those green eyes?”

  “Are they green?”

  “Mom … ”

  “Okay. I get it. He’s good-looking,” she admitted. “I want you to know that I’m not really comfortable with this. He’s been my partner for two years but if he hits on you, I’ll have to shoot him.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “Mom.”

  “He’s too old for you.”

  “I don’t want to marry him. Can’t we just go and have a good time? Remember what that is? A good time?”

  Lauren knew when to admit defeat. She motioned to their food. “Well, finish your dinner at least. I know he’ll still be there when we’re done.”

  Stowing their bags in the car after dessert, they walked the two blocks down to Flannigan’s. The baseball game was on and the bar was packed. It was a typical sports bar with signed jerseys on the walls and girls with tight black tee shirts waitressing. The long polished bar was two deep with patrons drinking heavily and watching the game on the big screens. A burly bouncer proofed them as soon they crossed through the door. He glanced at their IDs. “She’s underage.”

  “She’s not drinking,” Lauren told him. “I’m her mother.”

  “Damn.” He looked them both up and down and handed their licenses back. Snapping a bright yellow wristband around Lindsey’s arm, he reiterated, “Damn. I mean, welcome. Please.” He motioned them forward into the bar.

  Lauren rolled her eyes and Lindsey giggled. From across the bar, at a back table, Reese stood up and waved them over. He was sitting with three other guys in their early thirties, surrounded by pitchers of beer. Lauren and Lindsey threaded their way through the crowd to get to them.

  They rearranged themselves so the ladies could sit. “I got you a pitcher of soda.” Reese pushed a glass in front of Lindsey. Lauren folded her arms as he set a beer in front of her. “Guys,” he announced, “this is my partner, Lauren Riley, and her daughter Lindsey.” Hands were shaken all around and Lauren sat herself between Lindsey and Reese as a pre-emptive measure.

  As much as she didn’t want to, Lauren ended up having a great time. Spilling beer on Reese’s friend, she found herself jumping up and cheering with the crowd after a grand slam in the ninth inning. Lindsey rooted for the other team, just to spite the guys. She even managed to snag one of their baseball hats and wear it backwards as a sign of protest.

  Once the game was over, Reese and Lauren entertained the group with war stories and good-natured bickering. “So I told her, ‘This guy is a total pervert and a runner. We’re going to knock on the door and he’s going to run right out the back.’” Reese loved telling that story. “And she says, ‘No. I got this. Follow my lead. I’m a pro.’”

  “Those words have never come out of my mouth, ever,” she corrected, trying to get him to stop, but he was on a roll.

  “We get to the house and it’s a double, right? And dude lives in the upper. We start up the staircase and she says, ‘Wait here’, and I’m just standing there like, what? This guy always runs. Always. But she’s the boss so I stand there.”

  “I just want to state, for the record, I have never been the boss.”

  Ignoring that he plunged on, “So she gets to the door and I’m still halfway down the staircase. If this dude looks out the peephole he’ll see her, but not me, and I think, okay, now he’ll definitely run because he’ll think he can get the jump on one female detective. But I forgot one thing.”

  “What was that?” Lindsey leaned forward, enjoying the moment at her mom’s expense.

  “That she was in plainclothes. And she had her badge tucked into her shirt and she was wearing jeans. So when our boy heard the knocking he got up from his computer, where he was conveniently watching porn, and saw a good-looking blonde standing there. He must have thought the porno gods had granted his every wish that day—”

  “Reese,” she warned, but she was laughing too.

  “Sorry. Anyway. He throws open the door and says, ‘Hey! Who are you?’ And Lauren doesn’t miss a beat, even though he’s got nothing on but a pair of cut off jean shorts, she grabs him by the arm, flips him around, and cuffs him before he even knows what’s happening and says, ‘I’m the police. Nice to meet you.’”

  Everyone roared, clinking their glasses, even Lauren. One of Reese’s friends, a guy named Dean, had somehow managed to rearrange the group and sit himself next to her. “That’s a great story. He probably thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  He draped his arm along the back of her seat, leaning in close when he spoke to her, “I know I would have.”

  “Answered the door in cut-off jean shorts?” Lauren teased him.

  “Hey, whatever it takes.” He was a physician’s assistant who worked for an orthopedist. They kept talking. The pitchers kept coming.

  Dean was shorter than Lauren liked, but very smooth and extremely funny. Whenever he laughed, his whole body shook and the laugh reached his soft, brown eyes. She found herself moving closer to him until his arm was around her shoulder, watching his lips and wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

  Excusing themselves to the bathroom, Lauren and Lindsey inspected themselves in the mirror while they washed their hands after using the facilities. “Mom, you should totally hook up with Dean.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you.” She ripped a piece of paper towel from the hanging roll and dried her hands.

  “Come on, you just got everything waxed! It’s perfect timing.”

  “You’re not too old to ground.” She wadded up the paper and threw it into the trash can.

  “You can’t ground me,” Lindsey shot back, pushing open the door, the noise from the bar all but drowning her out, “for speaking the truth.”

  Maybe I should, she thought as they made their way back to their table. Why not have a one-night stand? Reese came into view and Lindsey slid in next to him, laughing at something he said about the bathroom. Because I care about what they think of me, she reminded herself, that’s why.

  But there was no harm in flirting, she decided. When last call came, Dean asked for Lauren’s number and she was just about to give it to him when another of Reese’s friends, who had been doing shots and swiping on Tinder all night, passed out facedown onto the table.

  The bartender went nuts. “That’s it, folks! You have to go!”

  The bouncer rushed over, helped Reese hoist his friend from his seat, and together they got him out of the bar. The whole crowd found themselves out in the street, laughing, trying to get the friend into a cab. In the chaos, Lauren and Lindsey found themselves detached from the group and walking to their car alone.

  “Are you going to go out with Dean?” Lindsey asked, taking the car keys from her mother. Lindsey had witnessed firsthand how many of the pitchers Lauren had helped drink.

  Lauren had been so engrossed in her conversation with Dean that she’d forgotten to block Reese’s access to her daughter. “Are you going to go out with Reese?”

  “He didn’t ask me,” Lindsey pouted.

  Pouring herself i
nto the passenger seat she smiled as she closed her eyes. “I told you he was stupid.”

  59

  The next morning Lauren was in a world of hurt. Drinking draft beer in large amounts didn’t agree with her keeping food down and she spent most of the day between the bed and toilet. She tried to cover her head with her pillow because it seemed like the phone never stopped ringing. Luckily, Lindsey was there to take messages for her. I’m too old for this crap, she thought as her stomach flip-flopped, this is why I don’t socialize anymore.

  Around three o’clock Lindsey came up to her room with a cup of black coffee in her hand. “Frank Violanti called. Wants you to call him right away. The lawn guy called, he’s coming over at five, not four. Dean called, left his number … ”

  “I didn’t give him my phone number.”

  “ … Reese called and asked if it was okay that he gave Dean your number. And Dad called.”

  “You mean Mark.”

  “You’ve had me call him Dad since I was eight, and now because you’re pissed at him you want me to call him Mark? Anyway, Dad called and he’s taking me to dinner with little Mark.”

  Sitting up, Lauren waved the coffee away. “He’s using you to get to me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. He calls me, we do things, that’s why he’s my dad.”

  Lauren didn’t feel like fighting this one out so she changed the subject. “Did Reese ask you out?”

  “Not yet.” Gone was last night’s pout, replaced by a confident head tilt.

  She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  60

  She waited until she was driving to work on Monday to call Violanti. He was steamed she hadn’t returned his phone calls, but she kindly reminded him that her daughter was in town and to butt out.