Just a Little Sincerity, Page 2

  “I’ve gotta hit the road, Julie,” he said, looking past me and not meeting my stare. “Have fun tonight and good luck with the contest—”

  “Whoa, wait,” I said, taking his arm. “What’s going on? You just got here—”

  “Duty calls—”

  “You’re not on duty,” I said. “And you won’t be for the next month—”

  “Julie,” he yelled, shaking his arm free from my grasp. “Good night.”

  And as he walked away, further and further from the fire, my heart sank from my chest.

  After all we’d been through, Luke was still running.

  Chapter Two

  Wednesday October 31

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Matt ripped a frozen pizza from my hands and tossed it in the trash.

  “Matt,” I whined. “I’m starving—”

  “Then I’ll make you something to eat,” he said. “You can’t put that garbage in your body—”

  “That garbage is what I lived off of for sixteen years before coming to this house,” I said. “It hasn’t killed me—”

  “Yet.”

  I rolled my eyes and slumped into the barstool at the center island. I watched as Matt made his way through the kitchen, stopping at the refrigerator to pull out a celery stalk and carrots before opening the cupboard to retrieve a simmering pan, two pots, and a handful of utensils.

  Much to the surprise of everyone who knew him, Matt jumped right back into his normal routine after the Oakland PD carted Hannah—his unofficial girlfriend—off to jail. I, more than anyone, expected him to go into shock, break down, and completely exclude himself. But he didn’t; Matt only spent a day or two in the dumps. In no time at all, he’d picked himself up, brushed it all off, and moved on as though nothing ever happened.

  “Just a heads up,” Matt said. “I’m not going to be able to make it to school Friday night—”

  “Matt, if you bail on me—”

  “Sorry, Julie,” he said, dicing carrots. “I’m scheduled for a shift at the bistro. I can’t call off—”

  “Why did you sign up for the decorating committee if you knew you couldn’t carry through?” I asked, disappointed that he was the third person in a week to cancel. “You bailing leaves me with only two helpers to assemble the Fall Ball—”

  “Sorry,” he said again. “I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied. You’ll figure it out. You always do. I’m sure someone will step up and volunteer.”

  “Like who?”

  “Ask Derek.”

  “I’m not asking Derek.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “He’s the perfect guy for the job. He’ll do anything you ask. You say jump, he’ll jump.”

  “Don’t be a jerk, Matt—”

  “I’m not being a jerk; just stating the obvious, Julie.” Matt tossed the diced vegetables into the pan. He watched in silence as they simmered, finally looking up at me long enough to shake his head. “Honestly, I still can’t understand why you’d want to be friends with the guy… you do remember what he did, don’t you?”

  Remember? How could I forget? He risked his life against his own flesh and blood to put me out of harm’s way. He leaned over Luke’s lifeless body and performed CPR, despite the fact that we’d given up hope that he’d pull through. He did all the things an amazing friend would do, and I was eternally grateful—despite what Matt, Charlie, and Luke thought about him.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the sigh of relief Derek let out when the doctors came into the waiting room to deliver news on Luke’s surgery. He’d wrapped his arms around me, hugged me tight, and promised me that everything would be okay.

  “Yeah, Matt,” I said, sliding off the stool. “I remember perfectly well what Derek did. I’ll never forget… he was there for me when I needed a shoulder. He was being a friend… he was doing your job.”

  I walked through the house and out the front door, chancing the autumn breeze without a sweater or jacket. My bare arms tightened against the cool air as I walked to the house next door and rang the bell.

  “Hey,” Derek said, opening the door wide enough to let me in. “Aren’t you freezing?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, my teeth chattering as I stepped inside and closed the door. He stepped back and pulled a quilt off the couch and wrapped it around my arms. He came in closer, draping his arms around my body, and holding me for a few long seconds.

  “Better?” he asked, resting his head on top of mine.

  I nodded.

  With obvious hesitation, he pulled away and headed for the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Want to order a pizza?” I asked, following him across the room with the quilt draped over my shoulders like a cape. “I’m starving.”

  “Matt confiscated the goods?”

  “Again,” I said, throwing myself back on the couch. Though I fought the urge to look, I let my eyes wander down to the floor. It was right there, right where I stared that Luke’s body had laid, lifeless and bloodied. It was in that exact spot that I accepted that I may never hear his voice again. And though the carpet had been changed, the wound had been healed, and the shooter locked away… nothing could change the memory of what had happened the night Hannah pulled the trigger.

  “You okay?” Derek asked, sitting down in the opposite chair and flipping through a thick phone book.

  “Fine,” I said, eyeing him as he turned each page. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for the number.”

  I pulled the cell phone from my pocket, held down the second button and speed dialed Giovanni’s Pizzeria. I tossed the phone to Derek and pulled the Yellow Pages from his lap, setting it aside.

  “Only you would have food on speed dial,” he grinned, lifting the phone to his ear and smiling at me the whole time he placed the order. “Twenty minutes,” he said when the call ended. “What do you want to do in the meantime?”

  I bit my lip and looked down at my feet. I’d spent weeks contemplating whether or not I’d ever bring it up again, but part of me yearned to put together the parts of the puzzle that were still a little hazy. He’d offered to show it to me once before… to help me understand. He was just about to explain everything… right before Hannah put a bullet in his plan.

  “You said you had a box…an explanation of some sort?” He nodded. “I’d like to see it,” I said, meeting his gaze again. “If it’s okay?”

  His eyes widened, but only for a moment.

  “Yeah, absolutely,” he whispered, still sitting firmly in the chair. A moment passed and he patted his knees and stood up, heading to the bedroom at the back of the house. I got up and followed him, watching from the doorframe as he pulled a blue shoebox from the top of his closet. He looked at the box for a few long seconds.

  “You don’t have to worry,” I said, stepping into the room.

  Derek turned back and managed a halfhearted smile. “I beg to differ.”

  I took the box from his hand and backed up a few feet to take a seat on the corner of his bed.

  “Julie,” he said, sitting next to me and putting his hand on top of mine. “Please remember that—”

  “You’re not him,” I said, squeezing his fingers. “Believe me, I know.”

  With a deep breath, I pulled the lid off the box. I looked inside and sifted through the pile of pictures, newspaper clippings, and envelopes. I skimmed the articles that quoted my father on the night he busted up a drug ring and made the arrest against Derek’s dad. I chose to pass up the familiar clippings that outlined the gory details of my parents’ murder. The trial articles were nothing I hadn’t read a million times. But as I reached the bottom of the box, I pulled a faded picture off the pile and stared at it intensely.

  “I was three,” Derek said, pointing to the young boy in the arms of Conan Milton. “And Dad,” he took a deep breath. “Well, this might be the only picture we have together. He was pretty much absent… even in the years before the a
rrest.”

  I nodded, lifting the picture a little higher to take a closer look.

  “That’s how I remember him,” Derek continued. “Always gone or strung out.”

  “Is this your mom?” I asked, pointing at the vivacious blonde in the photo.

  Derek grinned. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I nodded. “You look like her.”

  And though the similarities were there, I had trouble believing that this was his mother. She looked nothing like I’d pictured; I’d always imagined her as weak and frail, helpless against her husband. After all, I’d convinced myself that any woman who’d be dumb enough to marry a murderous psychopath couldn’t be much of a winner herself.

  “She was amazing,” Derek said. “She was loving, kind, soft-spoken… but she never knew how to stand up for herself. She always found herself getting mixed up with the wrong people.”

  “Did she know… about your dad… the operation he was running?”

  “Not because he told her,” he said. “And not in the beginning. But his lies started piling up as the money rolled in. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what was going on. But by then, I was five and she was pregnant with Hannah.”

  “Why’d she stay with him?”

  “She made a commitment. She promised to see that commitment through to the end; no matter what.”

  “That’s… admirable.”

  “Stupid,” he said. “I think that’s the word you were looking for. She had a million opportunities to leave, to run as far away as possible. But she never did. Her unconditional love for my father wasn’t admirable, Julie. It was pathetic and selfish.”

  He reached into the box, digging through to the very bottom, and pulled a piece of white stationery from the pile.

  “She left this note,” he said. “The night your parents were murdered… she knew what he was going to do and she couldn’t stop him. She knew he’d either kill himself or end up in prison for the rest of his life. I guess she couldn’t fathom living another day without him.” He opened the note and passed it to me. “The police found it on the nightstand next to an empty pill bottle.”

  Two words and nothing more: I’m sorry.

  “That’s it?” I asked, looking at him. He took the note and tucked it back inside the box. “I’m so sorry, Derek,” I said, taking his hand.

  With one slow blink, the tears let loose and trickled down his cheek.

  “I keep going back to what you said that night,” he said, taking a jagged breath. “About my father’s evil running through my veins. It haunts me every day, Julie. I hate that I can’t change who I am and where I came from. I grew up knowing what kind of monster he was… I never wanted to turn out like him—”

  “And you didn’t,” I said, squeezing his hand tighter. “I should have never said those things, Derek. I was angry… confused, to say the least. I hated that you’d kept a secret like that. You have to know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you. I’d do anything to take it back—”

  “But you were right,” he said. “My dad murdered two innocent people, my mom killed herself, and Hannah is sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for attempted murder. It is…just like you said. It’s in my blood.”

  “What?”

  “Being a killer.”

  “You’re not,” I said, lifting his chin. “That’s not who you are—”

  “I try to tell myself that,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But then every time I see you with Luke… every time I feel you thinking about him… part of me wishes he would have just died the night Hannah shot him.”

  “Get rid of the box, Derek,” I said, trying not to let his last words rattle me. “You are not defined by the things your family has done. I know who you are, and this isn’t you talking. That box… everything in it… it’s trash. You need to stop holding on to it. You need to move on. We both do.”

  “How can you be so sure, Julie? If I don’t know, then how can you? How can you really know who I am?”

  “I trust my instincts, Derek. And let me tell you something… I rarely see the good in people… and all I can see is the goodness in you. So if you can’t trust yourself, then trust me. I know you’re different. I believe in you.”

  Chapter Three

  Friday November 02, 5:55am

  “You wanna tell me what that was all about the other night?” I asked, throwing a sideways glance in Luke’s direction as he took long strides across the dark parking lot.

  “Meaning?”

  I ran up beside him to keep up with his quick pace. It was easy to see that he was on a mission; he wore his serious, stern expression—one that told me he meant business. But even in the dark morning sky, Luke’s emotions were easy to read; he was annoyed to run into me.

  “The party. The bonfire. Our little exchange. Any of this ring a bell?” I asked. “We were having a moment and then you got that call from Bruno. You took off without the slightest explanation—”

  “We were having a moment?” he asked, returning a glance from the corner of his eye.

  “Well, weren’t we?” I asked, taking his arm and stopping him in his tracks. “Luke?”

  He took a deep breath and dropped his head. “You’ve gotta stop doing this, Julie.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Asking me to feel,” he said. “Having irrational expectations—”

  “Irrational expectations?” I asked, remembering the way he held me, whispered in my ear, and pressed his warm lips to my cool skin. “Luke, you can’t be serious—”

  “Julie—”

  “I’m not imagining things,” I said, disputing his next argument before he had time to make it. “I’m not asking you to feel anything. You already feel. What I’m asking is that you stop running from me for one second and admit that I’m not out of my mind.”

  “Not the time or place, Julie,” he said, brushing past me to let himself through the doors of the Oakland Police Department.

  “This conversation is not over, Lucas Reibeck,” I called after him once inside the building. He disappeared down the hallway without another word.

  “Hey,” Charlie said, stepping out of his office and pulling me in for a hug. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  I looked at my watch. 6AM, right on the dot. It would be easy for him to assume something was wrong. I had no business showing up here this early on a school day, but I couldn’t tell him the truth….

  My original plan was to track down Detective Bruno and find out what was going on between him and Luke. And then after running into Luke in the parking lot, I thought maybe it was best to just stick to deciphering all the mixed signals between me and Luke. One step at a time, right? But Luke’s eagerness to get away from me was just a little too worrisome, and I needed to get to the bottom of it.

  “You know, Uncle Charlie,” I said, trying to think fast on my feet. “I’m the only person in the senior class who didn’t get the chance to finish my job shadowing project. After the shooting and everything that happened with Officer Reibeck… I feel like I’ve been…robbed.”

  Charlie raised his brow and shook his head. “You feel robbed?” he asked. “Given the circumstances, the school excused you from the project. You’re not obligated to finish the hours, kiddo. Besides, last I checked, you thought the class project was a huge waste of time.”

  “I did… at first,” I said, knowing the best way to Charlie’s heart. “Though I’ve been around it all my life, it was you who brought me to the station and introduced me to criminal justice system. You teamed me up with Luke, who showed me firsthand what it means to be a police officer. But I was just getting my feet wet. I loved every second I spent shadowing here at the station. And I still have four hours to complete before I’m done. Like I said, I just feel… a little cheated. I want the same opportunity my classmates had. I want to finish the assignment.”

  Charlie’s typically stern expression turned doughy. His cheeks flushed red with admiration as his smile s
tretched ear-to-ear.

  “You really feel that way?”

  “I really do,” I said. “So, what do you say? Luke’s here now. I can follow him around for the rest of the day, knock out my hours, and be done with it.”

  His smile faded. “Trigger’s here?”

  “That’s what I said—”

  “Dammit! He did it again,” Charlie mumbled. He looked over his shoulder and scanned the front of the building. “Where did he go?”

  I pointed in the direction of the break room. “I can go get ‘im—”

  “You stay right where you’re at,” he said, storming toward the dimly lit hallway at the back of the station.

  “Ah, Miss Julie,” Detective Bruno said, joining me at the front of the station. He took a sip from his coffee mug and raised his brows. “I see what you’re doing… it’s not going to work. You’re in way over your head, sweetheart.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, crossing my arms and staring straight forward, waiting on Charlie or Luke to emerge from the hallway.

  “It’s time to let go now,” he said, patting me on the back and turning away.

  “Let go?” I asked. “Let go of what?”

  A forlorn grin swept across his face. “Trigger.”

  I shook my head. “No way, Detective. Something is going on and I’m going to find out what it is. You can’t tell me I’m in denial one day, and then turn around and tell me I’m in over my head. Make up your mind—”

  “I was wrong,” he said, turning back. “There’s nothing there. I misinterpreted the signals. There’s no hope for you, sweetheart… and certainly no love. Not with Trigger.”

  Friday November 02, 7:00pm

  “Looking good, Julie,” Derek said, offering a hand to help me down from the ladder.

  I jumped down from the second step and looked around the high school gymnasium to study our progress. The orange, red, and yellow streamers didn’t do much to light up the space, but the balloons, lights, and centerpieces would certainly help. I was quickly learning the importance of taking each step at a time. Still, I couldn’t wait to see it once it all came together.