Raney & Levine (21 page)

EPILOGUE/
JULY 1

T
he blueberries were perfect. And the strawberries -
joyously red and plump. Those two, that’s all Jill said they needed for their
dessert with chocolate sauce over vanilla ice cream, but David poked happily
among the bright mangos, grapes, papayas and cantaloupes, watching the setting
sun glow on the whole sidewalk stand, and on his wedding ring.

It actually warmed his finger, and he stopped to twirl it a
little, enjoying the feeling. Then he went back to picking the blueberries and
strawberries, and a baguette and roses too. A beautiful bouquet of red ones,
Jill’s favorite. Paying, he grinned back at the grocer, grinned too at others
who recognized him, then hurried home.

She was in the kitchen and looked up smiling – then
delighted - when he came in.

“Oh beautiful!” She took the roses and hugged him hard with
her free arm, kissing him lovingly.

As she poured water for the roses into a pitcher he said,
“Congratulations, first year resident.”

She laughed happily, then let out a subdued cowboy hoot. “Yeeehaaw!”
Not loud enough to wake Jesse, but she couldn’t resist; had heard it from some
of David’s relatives, his hearty father mostly, summoned for their quickie
marriage ceremony at NYC’s City Hall. It took all of twenty minutes. His
parents had gifted her with loving hugs and cookware and a cowgirl hat. They
owned a sporting goods store in Denver.

She felt high with happiness. Last night, June 30 at the
stroke of midnight, Jill’s year of internship had ended and she’d become a
first year resident. So had all of them – Tricia, Ramu, Charlie and Gary. No
chance to celebrate though, work continued, so they’d gathered and hugged and
toasted with Sprite for a whole five minutes before they had to run off
again…or collapse in bed to start all over at 6 a.m.

No time off, no summer vacations, no joke. July first was
also the day the new bunch of interns arrived, and you didn’t want them
wandering around in a daze with their limited clinical experience.

“Remember last year, when you were one of ‘em?” David
smirked, leaving the water running to start rinsing the strawberries.

“Oh…” She jabbed him in the ribs, not wanting to remember
her first dreadful week.

They fell silent for a moment, remembering the darkness of
the July before, and last October again…

Then the moment passed. The darkness was behind them,
they’d
gotten through it,
and tonight they had – off! Jill had made a beautiful
salad nicoise, and David, slicing the baguette, commented about bed early and a
decent night’s sleep.

She looked at him, arching a brow, and he re-thought the
sleep part. Peered out the long, thin kitchen to the living area beyond. It was
still as quiet out there as it was when he went for the fruit.

“Jesse still asleep?” he asked.

“You know it.”

True. No baby clamor yet. Jesse was nine months now. The
adoption had proceeded with the speed of government, but he’d been theirs,
really theirs, for over four months. The tiny bundle they’d once held was now a
seventeen-pound happy babbler, expert crawler, and enterprising explorer. He
was on track as just a normal kid, as they told the rare reporter who called of
late, or the cameramen who’d caught them in their heavy jackets last winter
walking to and from the hospital.

The paparazzi had pretty much disappeared after December.
Other media excitement had replaced the Jesse furor. The whole winter, spring,
and now July had been so quiet. No threats, no bogeymen.
The three of them
had stopped being danger magnets!
So the awfulness was over, right?
People had gotten used to the idea of Jesse. The only news stories appearing
concerned women clamoring to have their babies the same way – not a lot, but
they were vocal, increasing in numbers, demanding and insisting that doctors
find out faster how it was done or “admit their indifference to the hardships
of women, especially working women.”

The beautiful, oh-give-thanks thing was that the world was
leaving Jill and David alone to be just normal, overtired, overworked residents
whose joy was having Jesse, watching him grow.

David went to him. Jill dried her hands and followed,
carrying the salad, a bottle of Chardonnay, and the roses on a tray. Their
table, already set, was just feet from the crib. Jill put her tray down and
joined David, gazing at their sleeping child.

Who squirmed, and squirmed some more…and opened his eyes.

“Da…” he said, seeing David first. His right hand reached
sleepily for his favorite toy, a soft bunny, and he handed it up to David. The
bunny was a gift from Gregory Pappas. The whole living area, the floor and
every shelf, was crammed with toys from friends. Alex Brand and Keri Blasco
with her boyfriend had been over. Alex had brought a soft plastic fire truck;
Keri had brought a little red horse.

The police were grateful that Jill and David had continued
to help with their cases. Three rapes and a case of statutory rape and child
molestation. The child had been a pregnant thirteen-year-old. Keri and Jill had
become close friends.

Leaning over the crib, Jill said, “Hi cutie. Wanna come out
and play?”

“Paaay,” Jesse said sleepily, his light brown hair a little
sweaty on his brow.

They changed him, and took turns eating a bit awkwardly,
one-handed with him traveling from one lap to the other. He held his own
bottle. Once he dropped it, then, chortling, swept some of David’s rice to the
floor and thought that was hugely funny.

“Meth! Meth!” he chirped happily. He was proud of himself.
He’d made a mess and had learned another word.

David reached for the baby development book.

“He’s ahead in language development,” he said, reading
thoughtfully. Then he smirked and looked down at the carpet. “We’ll need a drop
cloth here.”

“Almost every day a new word,” Jill said, restraining
Jesse’s little hand from swiping more rice. “Maybe because we talk to him a
lot. Ditto the hospital day care bunch.”

Every hospital staff member had access to daycare for their
little ones. Jesse also spent two afternoons a week in the hospital’s
more-famous-than-ever Infant School, but he didn’t seem to like it. He often
did just the opposite of what the teachers tried to teach him, and preferred
the free-crawling, rolling, head-butting scene of the regular daycare.

“So he’s going to be an independent thinker,” David said
later, sprawled with Jill on the carpet, watching Jesse crawl around. He was
babbling and pushing Alex’s soft plastic fire truck, another favorite toy,
holding it with one hand while using his other hand and two knees to propel
himself.

Outside the wide darkening window, the hospital lights
glowed, and an ambulance sounded. Then another, and another, all wailing
together into the nearby ambulance bay.

A big accident someplace. Collision at an intersection? A
house fire? Building crane collapse?

Jill sighed. Home helped her forget the suffering and trauma
of the outside world. It never ended, did it? Hearing the sirens always brought
the realization back. Amid all this homey coziness, she felt a sadness take
hold, wondering who was in pain, bleeding, maybe dying.

She sighed again, audibly this time. David, leaning against
her, understood and patted her hand.

Are nine-month-olds able to read body language? Jill didn’t
know, but doubted it.

Until the following happened.

Jesse seemed to have seen her sad expression. He stopped
crawling for a second, then scrambled to her looking worried, and held his fire
truck up to her.
Don’t be sad, Mommy.

She took it, and smiled for him. “Thank you, sweetheart.
Mommy’s happy again.”

David watched, amazed. Jesse beamed, his round little face
showing his first front teeth coming in.

Then he pulled himself up on Jill’s knee.

And then he let go, and
took his first step. And then
another
. And almost a third before he fell into David’s arms, squealing
with delight and looking back at Jill.
Mommy proud? Mommy proud?

No words to describe the exclamations and stunned thrill of
that moment. David took Jesse’s little hand and kissed it, and then kissed
Jill, who was nearly in tears with excitement. She had felt comfort before from
holding Jesse as a baby, but this…took her breath away.

Good people heal and comfort each other. Jill knew in her
heart that Jesse would be one of those good people.

He crawled from David to her lap, cuddled, popped his thumb
in his mouth, and resumed being a baby again.

It felt so good.

Author’s Note

Hello, and
thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the book. If you have the time to
write a review, let me know and I will thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Writing is so solitary! Your feedback would cheer me no end; also re-charge my
batteries to keep going with the next book. Your review on Amazon or Goodreads
would also help others decide if they would enjoy the book.

Visit my
Facebook Page, click the Like thingie and say hi…?
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Here’s my
Twitter handle too:
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More books
are in the works, so I hope you join my Newsletter at
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You’ll be the first to know when new
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Thanks again for reading!
~ Joyce

Read on for an excerpt from

EMBRYO 4: CATCH ME

by J.A. Schneider

Order it today!

http://jaschneiderauthor.net

1

H
e weighed forty pounds, and his little skinned knees
stung as he ran, terrified.

Thorns in the brush caught his shorts. The sun was gone and
it was getting darker, colder. He struggled forward, his breath coming fast in
mewling little cries. The blood on his tee shirt made it stick to his skin but
he was unaware as ahead, suddenly, he saw someone running. His heart beat so
hard that his vision blurred as he thrashed to the clearing.

Two giant shapes were emerging from the darker dark of the
tunnel, coming closer. His mouth opened, and he burst into wails. He just stood
there sobbing, his little body bent at the waist with his fists clenched.

Beauty had sensed trouble seconds before, had stopped short,
and pawed and shied.

“Hey, easy girl,” Terry Novak said. His partner had already
seen the little boy by the side of the jogging trail. “Oh, jeez!”

Both cops dismounted and ran to him. He was shivering and
hysterical. The front of his white tee shirt was blood-soaked, but – they
checked – the blood wasn’t his.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
he wailed as Novak
pulled off his jacket, wrapped it around the child, lifted him into a hug and
tried to comfort. His partner Rob was radioing for help.

“Where’s your Mommy?” Novak kept asking gently. The child
sobbed, didn’t answer, then finally craned back to where he’d come from and
squirmed to get free. “
Mommy!”
he screamed.

Novak peered up through the dusk to the sloping stretch of
woods between the trail and the wall lining Fifth Avenue. The brush was too
thick to see anything.

Blue-and-whites were already arriving, their lights blazing,
doors flying open.

“Up there.” Novak indicated the slope. Patrolmen saw him
holding the bloodied child and headed up. Grimly, carefully, fanning out around
what was probably going to be a crime scene.

And was.

“Christ, another one,” breathed one man as they approached
the couple. Yards apart this time instead of in a lovers’ heap. In the deeper
dark under the trees, flashlights beamed on the man, face down in the fall
leaves with a wide, reddened puncture on his shirted back. The woman lay on her
side, eyes closed, her blouse and shorts bloodied.

“Man’s dead.” A patrolman straightened from feeling the
still carotid. Another man in uniform looked up from the woman.
“Still
breathing! Where’s –”

But EMTs were suddenly there. The first detective too, his
unmarked car parked below behind the ambulance.

“Third attack,” Alex Brand said grimly, pulling on latex
gloves.

“The Couples Killer,” a patrolman answered in the same tone.
“First time in daylight.”

“Sunset,” Brand muttered, kneeling to the dead man as EMTs
tended the woman. Something caught his eye. “What’s this?”

He reached to a tightly balled paper feet away. It looked
like it had been tossed. Carefully, he opened it, and read. It was
computer-printed on standard paper. Probably had no prints on it like the last
one they’d found; the killer wore gloves.

“COPS LOSE AGAIN!” read the taunt. Which was signed, “CATCH
ME.”

“Another?” One of the cops leaned closer and knew what he
was seeing.

“Yeah,” Brand said. “This makes two messages. He left
nothing at the first attack.”

“He’s getting more brazen.”

“Planning more kills, too. This third one makes him a
serial.”

Brand rose, holding the paper. He drew in a long breath,
stared out at the Central Park Reservoir to think for a moment. The last glints
of warming sunset had left the water, leaving it in gloom.

He started back down to his partner.

Kerri Blasco was taking the little boy from Novak,
kneeling to him and getting him into her jacket.

She tried to comfort. “What’s your name, honey?” Kerri asked
gently. “Did you see what happened?”

He had stopped crying and looked in shock. He trembled and
his thumb pushed hard into his mouth, but he let her hug him. A second
ambulance arrived. Police radios crackled. The woman was alive, Kerri heard.

Strolling couples, two cyclists, and joggers had gathered,
gape-mouthed.

“Anyone see anything?” a patrolman called out. He and
another cop separated the group. “You see or hear anything?” the second cop
asked. “Like
gunshots?
”

Heads shook. “Traffic’s too noisy…I was wearing my
headphones…Just saw joggers.”

Names were taken anyway as Victorian-style lampposts turned
on. People who’d been questioned moved away, troubled, under pools of the
lamplight that was supposed to keep the park safe. The sky above had turned
mauve and blue and dark blue.

Kerri’s partner, Alex Brand, came up to her, bent and patted
the little boy’s shoulder. The child shuddered, cringed into Kerri’s hug.

“I’ll go with him in the ambulance,” she said low. “Meet you
at the hospital.”

“Madison Memorial.” Alex gave her a significant look.

She gave back the same look and quick-glanced at the child. “Think
he saw anything?” she whispered.

“They may have both seen something. Mom’s gonna make it.”
Alex held up an evidence bag holding the crinkled paper. “We got another
message.” He watched Kerri’s lips tighten, then turned for their unmarked car. “See
you at Madison.”

She carried the little boy into the first ambulance, sat him
on a side bench, and wrapped him in a blanket. He seemed about four, but well
developed like a child who was normally very active. He breathed hard and fast,
pulled his knees to his stomach, sucked harder on his thumb.

“What’s your name, honey?” she tried again feelingly,
offering him one of the ambulance’s emergency teddy bears. He turned away from
it into her hug, squeezed his eyes shut, and his body shook.

Until the clatter of cops helping to upload the gurney and
two EMTs piled in, one holding up an IV and the other radioing in the patient’s
vital signs.

The child emitted a dull, aching cry and jerked away from
Kerri. The EMT pocketing her phone reached to control him as Kerri let him go.

He crawled to his mother, crying. Her eyes were closed, her
dark hair clammy on her brow, and her pretty face was pale under the oxygen
mask. Her child’s right hand touched her cheek, and his left hand moved to her
blanketed chest, wanting to hug her. The female EMT restrained him gently,
telling him how important those wires and tubes going into Mommy were.

“Here,” she told him, indicating a place further down the
blanket. “You can hug Mommy here.”

He did. As the ambulance pulled out and swayed into traffic,
he hugged his mother’s knees and lay his head down on them, wailing softly.

The siren outside shrilled. Over the sound Kerri heard the
second EMT call to her.

“What?”

His face was tight. “You gotta see who she is.”

Kerri pulled on latex gloves and took the wallet from the
purse they’d found. ID papers were inside, along with photos of a happy mom
with her grinning little boy.

Kerri read the ID info. It hit hard. She’d been holding her
breath and her hurting heart until this moment; now a surge of fury shot
through her.

“Son of a
bitch
!” she whispered.

With shaking hands she got out her phone and punched her
speed dial.