Shattered Glass(80)

She had me there. Peter and Darryl were hiding smiles, one burying his against my shoulder and the other grinning at the eggplant he was chopping.

I didn’t have to come up with a response, thankfully, as the doorbell rang, signaling the end of this round.

Cai was here.





How to Win Friends and Alienate Albanian Table-lovers

Shoulders drooped, his hands rubbing along the wrists, eyes downcast, Cai looked broken and defeated. That was my first thought. My second was that Kelly Fitzpatrick, the patrol officer who last week praised my self-described death-defying capture of Prisc Alvarado, could eviscerate me with his glare.

Officer Kelly “Mick” Fitzpatrick carried a satchel which he opened immediately upon entering, and from which he pulled a black box. “I’ll need a flat surface,” Mick said.

I flourished a hand at the living room, giving the officer free reign and ignoring the way he harshly bumped my shoulder as he walked past.

Peter wrapped a hand around the back of Cai’s head, enfolding the boy into his arms. Darryl ruffled Cai’s hair as they both murmured things that I couldn’t decipher. I was busy watching that scene instead of Mick, until he was finished setting up and cleared his throat.

He had completed installing the home-monitoring system and called everyone’s attention to the black box sitting on my mantle; then began a list of do’s and don’ts with regard to the judge’s orders.

“You cannot leave the house without prior authorization. You cannot drink alcohol, partake in illegal substances or associate with known criminals. Do you understand, Mr. Strakosha?”

Cai nodded, eyes wet and wide, pushing a soft, “Yessir,” from his lips.

Mick continued the explanation, tossing a not-unexpected sneer my way. If this is how a patrol officer treated me, my fellow detectives would be a nightmare to deal with. With that done, Mick took his leave. Not before throwing a last caustic glower at me. I, of course, smiled brightly and gave him two thumbs up, dropping the act as soon as the door shut behind him. I shifted my gaze to the small group of embracing houseguests, which now included Rosa.

My whole adult life had been about being a cop, and my entire future was wrapped around the FBI. I should've been angry at Angelica for lying about Cai’s innocence. And at both her and Peter for beguiling me into ruining my career with a misrepresentation of the facts. At the same time, I had difficulty imagining this boy killing anyone. One look at Cai’s face, his innocent eyes and his childlike smile, and I couldn’t find the will to be angry at any of them, or even to fault him for killing Alvarado.

Not that I agreed with vigilantism, but there was a small part of me that sided with Cai. When the kid lifted his eyes, the gratitude set in their grey depths whispered the shameful fact that I actually approved of what he did.

Besides, I agreed to all of this. My choice. I had to stop blaming everyone else.

“Your paints and sketchbook and some clothes are in the guest room,” Peter said, pointing to my hallway.

“Enough. We will eat now. I cooked Bourek,” Rosa announced, pushing everyone towards the living room with waving hands. I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly ten in the evening. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.

“What’s Bourek?”

“Heaven in puff pastry,” Darryl answered me. And no exaggeration here—he pranced to the kitchen to retrieve a pan from the oven.

Once everything was laid out on my coffee table—Bourek, pita bread, feta cheese salad—we sat down to a morose meal. The only one who enthusiastically devoured his food was Cai. His attention was single-mindedly focused on the Bourek, which resembled egg rolls made of puff pastry and were stuffed with, I hoped, beef or lamb. But hey, I braved menudo, right?

Though the Bourek tasted, as described, like heaven, dinner was a subdued affair. Everyone focused on Cai, watching for signs of a breakdown. Between Rosa’s disapproving tsks every time someone had to lean over to put something from my coffee table onto their plate, and the continued silence, I grew uneasy half an hour into the meal. At the most recent ‘tsk’, I considered asking Rosa where she might find space for a dinner table, but the thought of her answer made my ass clench.

“You all decide your sleeping arrangements, I’m going to bed. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you.” I stood up at the same time Rosa and Darryl did. Peter grabbed the leftovers and carried them in the kitchen. I was not going down the possessive road of ‘get your ass upstairs’.

Waiting until he made a return trip to the living room, I told him, “You’re welcome to join,” in lieu of begging.

“I’m going to stay up with Cai for a while,” he replied.