Free Don't Close Your Eyes by Carlene Thompson

the operation.
    Ted sighed. “Dee, are you going to start this crap about Farley again?”
    “It’s not crap!” Dee snarled. “And just because I told the truth about Eugene dying because of St. John, I was fired.”
    No, you were fired because Andrew St. John accused you of stealing drugs and an investigation proved him right, Ted thought, although the hospital had not filed charges, fearing bad publicity. But he’d been seeing Dee for six months. She might be short-tempered, she might be loud and bawdy, she was even guilty of stealing a few drugs on the side, but she was still wild and sometimes fun and made him feel important.
    Ted needed to feel important now because Nick Meredith obviously thought he was a not-so-smart hick. Big city know-it-all. Important people in county government didn’t like him. They’d get rid of him someday. Ted took some satisfaction in this, but he would prefer that Meredith rec
     
    ognize he was a better cop than he seemed. Winning Meredith’s respect would mean a hell of a lot.
    “Are you still there?” Dee demanded.
    “Yeah, sure.”
    “Well, I wish you wouldn’t call if you’re just going to daydream and not say anything.”
    “Sorry. You free tonight?”
    “Uh, no, not tonight,” she said abruptly. “Ma’s not so well. I can’t leave her.”
    “I could come to your house.”
    “No. She needs to sleep and she can hear a pin drop. We couldn’t watch TV or talk above whispers.”
    “When do I get to see you?”
    “I don’t know.” Petulant silence spun out on the other end. She lowered her voice, making it soft and husky. “Just be patient, baby, okay? I’ll make it worth the wait.”
    “Okay,” Ted said sulkily. “But it’d better be soon.”
    Well, hell, Ted thought after he’d hung up. A dull evening alone in front of the television lay ahead. Angrily he filled out another endless, boring report. Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind and he looked up, frowning.
    Dee hadn’t asked how Tamara Hunt had been murdered.
     
    Natalie and her father sat in near silence for the next hour. A second mug of coffee warmed her chilled body, and she was tempted to have a third, but Andrew St. John made strong coffee. Three jolts of caffeine would be too much, Natalie realized as she looked at her hands that already showed signs of chemically induced tremor. “Can’t I get you something to eat?” Andrew asked.
    Food. Andrew’s panacea for all problems. “I don’t think I could eat a bite if my life depended on it.”
    “If your life depended on it, you’d eat that dog standing over there,” he answered absently, although the dog’s head shot up as if in alarm. They both smiled. “I guess she understands more than I think.”
    “I believe she’s quite intelligent, Dad. Sometimes mixed breeds are smarter than the pure breeds where there’s been too much interbreeding among the blue bloods.” She sighed. “I think she stayed with Tamara all night.”
    Her father looked out the window again. “I remember when you were six. Shortly after your mother left, you ran off one December night. It was so cold. Harvey and Mary Coombs helped me search for you. We finally found you in an old boathouse half a mile from here. The dog Clytemnestra led us to you. If she hadn’t, you might have frozen to death.”
    “I remember that night,” Natalie said softly. “I’d overheard Harvey talking about Kira. He said the responsibility of a child was too much for her. I decided she left because of me. I thought if I took off, she’d come back to you. Run
     
    ning away on a freezing winter night wasn’t so easy, though. I made it to the boathouse. I thought I’d spend the night and be on my way the next morning, but I fell asleep.”
    “And if it weren’t for the dog, you would have died.” Andrew shook his head. “Harvey thought you were asleep in bed or he wouldn’t have said that about your mother. He felt terrible. But Kira didn’t leave because of you. She