Free Skeleton in a Dead Space (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter Page B

book thrown on the covers next to her. I leaned down and kissed each of them, praying to God to keep them safe. They are so precious.
    A glass of wine in hand, I was watching out my bedroom window when a taxi deposited Tim in front of the house shortly after ten. Almost disconnected from the scene, I watched him come up the walk, key in hand. Does he think his key will work? Incredible. When I heard loud, angry knocking, I went downstairs. Tim stood outside the door, gesturing.
    “What the hell? You changed the front door and my key doesn’t work.” he stormed as he came inside.
    “Well, you knew the door was shot up. Why’d you think the key would work?”
    “The color of that door is all wrong for the house,” he said, not answering the question. He was wrinkled and disheveled, as people are after a long flight. But he was also tanned and trim, in much better shape than the last time I’d seen him. I’d thought he was going to fat just a bit. His attitude, though, got to me. He was self assured, confident …and condescending. I felt like the wife who’d been left behind, and without asking I knew there was another woman, had been all along. I looked out the door—the taxi was waiting.
    Pulling my thoughts back to the door, I said, “I like it. And I live here.”
    He shrugged as though it didn’t matter to him. “You’ve moved the furniture around. Doesn’t look as good. Why is there a man parked outside just sitting there?”
    “He’s a policeman, guarding us.”
    “I knew you couldn’t take care of the girls by yourself.”
    “Tim, let’s not play games.” I was direct. “You came to get the girls, and you’re not getting them, so go away and call your lawyer.”
    He put his hands up, palms out, in an appeasing gesture. “I want to at least see them. I mean, I’ve come all the way across the country….”
    “Tim, it’s past ten o’clock. They’re both asleep, and tomorrow is a school day. Go away. I’ll see that you get some time with them tomorrow.”
    “Hi, Daddy.” The voice, timid and small, came from the stair landing, where Maggie stood. Em hovered behind her.
    “Maggie, my darling. Come to Daddy.”
    She came but as though she wasn’t sure. Em made a beeline for me, grabbed one leg, and held on fiercely. Maggie was embraced in a hug, but she didn’t hug back. She just stood there. After a minute, Tim straightened and looked at her.
    “Did you miss me?”
    Fair enough. “Yes, I did. But you didn’t call or write.”
    He waved his hand, as though to brush away that small matter. “I’ve been busy, baby, but I’ve missed you a lot. Now run upstairs and pack your things so you can come with me.”
    “Where?”
    “Oh, probably to California.”
    I clutched the panic button. Maggie came to stand by me. “I don’t want to go to California. I like it here. We’re going to get a new house and….”
    “A new house,” Tim exploded. “What the hell is wrong with the house I bought you?”
    “You don’t own it now, Tim. I bought you out, and I’m making huge mortgage payments. That’s part of what’s wrong with it. But the girls don’t need to hear this. They need sleep.”
    “They’re coming with me,” he said and took a step toward me.
    “Not tonight, they’re not. Not ever, unless you get a court order.” Em was squeezing my leg so tight that I thought I’d lose circulation. Maggie grabbed my hand, not the one with the panic button, thank goodness.
    Tim took another step toward us.
    I held up my hand. “See this? It’s a panic button. I push it and that cop outside will be in here in seconds. You better just go.” I bent to the girls, “You run upstairs, right now. Both of you. Get in my bed.”
    Tim looked confused and angry, but he turned toward the door. “I’ll be back with a court order,” he threatened.
    With the girls safely out of earshot, I said, “Tim, I’m getting a restraining order first thing tomorrow. You may see the girls, but only in