Kisscut

Wednesday

Chapter Twelve

Lena dreamed that she heard a hammer pounding against a nail. When she rolled over in bed, she half expected to see her hand being pi

Lena sat up in bed, yelling, "What the fuck?"

"I told you things were go

"Jesus Christ," Lena said, putting her hands to her ears, trying to block out the hammering sound. She looked at the clock on the dresser. "It's not even six o'clock," she yelled. "I don't even have to be at work until nine today."

"Gives us plenty of time," Hank said, sliding the pin from the hinge.

"You're taking off my door?" Lena demanded, pulling the sheet to her chest even though she was wearing a heavy sweatshirt and matching pants. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Hank ignored her as he started working on the top hinge.

"Stop it," Lena ordered, getting out of bed and taking the sheet with her.

Hank kept tapping, still ignoring her.

He said, "Things are changing, starting today."

"What things?"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

Lena unfolded the paper, but her eyes could not focus on the words. She was reminded of when she was a teenager, and Hank had not approved of a boy Lena was seeing. His solution then had been to nail her bedroom windows shut so that she would not be able to sneak out anymore at night. She had pointed out this was a fire hazard, and Hank had countered that he would rather see her burned alive than hooked up with that trash she was seeing.

Lena tried to take the hammer from him, but he was too strong.

She said, "I'm not a baby, goddamn it."

"You're my baby," Hank said, jerking the hammer back. He tapped out the last pin and the door dropped to the floor. "I held you in these hands," he said, dropping the hammer to show her his hands. "I walked with you at night when you wouldn't stop crying, I made sure you had your lunch when you went to school, and I loaned you the money to make the down payment on this house."

"I paid you back every goddamn pe

"This here's the interest," he said, wrapping his hands around the edges of the door. He lifted it with a heavy groan.

Lena watched, incredulous, as he carried the door out into the hallway.

"Why are you doing this?" she whined. "Hank, stop it."

"No more secrets in this house," he mumbled, straining to set the door against the wall. He turned to her, saying, "I'm laying down the law here, child."

"I'm not doing any of this," she said, throwing the list at him.

"The hell you say," he countered, catching the paper before it hit the floor. "You're go

"Don't threaten me," she said, following him back into the bedroom.

"You take it as a threat if you want," Hank said, yanking open one of the drawers in her bureau. He rummaged through her underwear, then slammed the drawer closed and opened the next one.

"What are you doing?"

"Here," he said, pulling out a pair of ru

Lena looked at him, and she noticed for the first time that Hank was not dressed in his usual jeans and loud Hawaiian shirt. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a beer advertisement on it and a pair of shorts that looked so new they still had the creases in them from being folded in the package. Brand new sneakers were on his feet, white socks pulled up to just under his knees. His legs were so white that she had to blink several times to see where his legs stopped and the socks began.

"Downstairs for what?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"We're going ru

"You're going to go ru

"Five minutes," he said, leaving the room.

"Bastard," Lena fumed, contemplating whether or not to go after him. She was so mad she couldn't see straight, but still, she took off her pants and slid on the shorts.

"Fucking prick," she mumbled, slipping on the shirt. She had no choice, and that was what was pissing her off. If Hank told Jeffrey half of the stuff he knew about Lena's behavior, Lena would be out on her ass so fast her head would spin.

Lena allowed herself a glance at the list. It started off with "exercise every day," and ended with "eat normal meals for breakfast, lunch, and supper."

From deep inside somewhere, she pulled up every curse word, every expletive, she had ever heard in her ten years as a cop and directed them all toward Hank. She finished with "… fucking motherfucker," then grabbed her sneakers and went downstairs.

Lena sat in Jeffrey's office, staring at the clock on his wall. He was ten minutes late, which had never happened as long as Lena could remember. She should probably be glad he wasn't here yet, because Lena needed to sit in order to recover from her morning run with Hank. He was a tough old man, and she had found herself being outpaced by him from their first step outside. Lena had to admit that some of her dogged determination must have come from her uncle, because he seemed to be like Lena: Once he got something in his head that he was going to do, nothing would stop him. Even when Lena had lagged behind, her lungs about to explode, her stomach churning from all the amino acids her muscles were giving up, he had simply jogged in place, his jaw set in an angry line, waiting for her to get over it and get moving.

"Hey," Jeffrey said, rushing into the office. His tie was loose around his neck and he carried his jacket over his arm.

"Hey," Lena said, standing.

He motioned for her to sit down. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "Traffic."

"Where?" Lena asked, because the only traffic in town was around the school, and then only at certain times.

Jeffrey did not answer her. He sat at his desk, buttoning his collar with one hand. Lena was not certain, but she could have sworn she saw a red mark on his neck.

She asked, "No word on Lacey yet?"

"No," he told her, tying his tie. "I talked to Dave Fine on my way in. He's got the notes from his sessions with Mark."

"He's just going to hand them over?" Lena asked, and not for the first time she was glad she had not talked to the pastor about her problems.

"Yeah," Jeffrey said, smoothing down his tie. "I was surprised, too."

Lena crossed her arms, staring at her boss. There was something different about him. She just couldn't place it.

"He's going to meet me at the hospital at ten," Jeffrey said, then looked at his watch. "I'm already late."

"I thought you wanted me to go with you?" Lena asked.

"I want you to get Brad and take Mark to his house," Jeffrey told her. "Get him some clean clothes, let him take a shower, whatever he needs to do, then take him to the hospital."

"Why?"

"His mother took a bad turn last night," Jeffrey said. "Fine thinks she'll probably be gone this morning." He tapped his fingers on his desk. "No matter what he did, I'm not going to keep that boy from seeing his mama one last time before she dies."

Lena was touched by this, but she tried not to let on.

Jeffrey jabbed a finger at her, as if in warning. "I mean it about Brad, Lena. You're not to be with Mark alone. Do you understand me?"

She thought to protest, but he was right. She did not want to be alone with Mark Patterson. There was something about him that was too raw. Perhaps she identified with him too much.