Razing Kayne Read online

  Granted, Oksana had been so terribly young and struggled to find her place in a new country so unlike Russia. In the beginning, the only happiness she seemed to find was at the Russian Community Center. It was more than an hour drive, each away, but Kayne hadn't cared; it had made her happy, and that was all that mattered. So he'd made the round trip twice a day, three days a week, for months until she got her driver's license. Once that happened, she’d gone every day. Even when she was heavy with child, she'd made the long drive to be with her friends.

  Some days he felt like the cops were right—that he had killed her. Not by pulling the trigger, but by how he'd handled things. Why had he, a professional, not seen the warning signs for what they were and been able to stop it? He'd failed his children, by failing his wife.

  Jessica though…she was different. She was a good mother to children that hadn't come from her womb. It took an incredible person to open themselves up like that. The thought that he could, in some way, taint that made him physically ill. They'd already lost too much. Though Jessica needed someone, it wasn't him. And if the idea of her with another man made his stomach churn, he'd just have to get over it.

  ***

  Later that night, Kayne climbed into the shower, utterly exhausted. Alone in his quiet little house with no one to care for, no one to be strong for, he let the emotions wash over him. He punched the tile as hard as he could again and again, until his knuckles bled, then slumped down to the floor and sobbed.

  Christ almighty! He missed his children so damned much. For the first time in nearly two years, he even missed Oksana. Regardless of what she'd done, he couldn't help but miss the glimpses of the girl he’d thought he'd known before that fateful day. He hated the silence, his cold empty bed, and the nightmares that never faded.

  How in God's name was he supposed to endure seeing his precious children's lifeless bodies laid out on a tile floor, wrapped in towels, ready to be disposed of as if they were garbage, every time he closed his eyes? How the fuck was he supposed to move past helplessly watching someone he had vowed to love kill herself? To have her blood and matter covering his body and not have it indelibly imprinted onto his soul. The memories haunted him.

  Autopsies confirmed both children had been dead for hours, so why had she waited? Did she get what she was looking for by seeing his reaction to what she'd done before she killed herself? If her intent was to destroy him, she’d succeeded. If she’d put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger that day instead of hers, it would have been a blessing.

  Eventually, when the water chilled, when he’d started shaking from the cold instead of the anger and heart wrenching pain, he shut off the water and climbed out. He managed to pull on a pair of sweats then sat down on the couch with a bottle of whiskey and his firearm, determined. This would be the night. All he wanted was to be with his children.

  After his fourth shot of whiskey, he picked up his service weapon and made sure it was loaded and chambered. A useless delay tactic. God, he was such a fucking coward. Then with a trembling hand, he set the firearm down before throwing back another drink.

  Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Jessica, and her sweet little family; to Gracie who reminded him so much of his Natalia. By some miracle was Tasha still out there somewhere? Was she safe? Loved?

  Kayne drifted into unconsciousness with images of a little girl toddling toward him who looked very much like Gracie Hallstatt, but she was calling him “Papa.”

  SIX

  It took Jess two days to screw up her nerve to call Kayne and apologize. She wasn't sure why it mattered so much, why she couldn't just leave well enough alone, but it did, and she couldn't. How screwed up was that? She didn't want a relationship with him, knew one could never happen. Yet she still felt the need to reach out to him, and try as she might, that need wouldn't leave her alone. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured the raw look on his face as he held a sleeping Gracie at the picnic. No one should have to bear that type of pain alone.

  “Hey, Kayne, it's Jess. Um, Jessica Hallstatt.” she said, when he answered.

  “Hi.”

  “Listen, I just wanted to—”

  “I'm sorry—”

  “Apologize—”

  They fell into an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then she forged ahead. “I don't know how to do this.” The moment the remark was out of her mouth, she realized how telling that statement was. How encompassing. Hearing his voice kicked her heart rate into the triple digit range.

  “This?”

  Great, how was she supposed to answer that? She should just hang up now and save both of them any further embarrassment. Instead, she asked, “Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night?” Silence. She quickly added, “It's Wednesday, which is game night, and I promised the kids homemade Mexican food. They'd love to see you.”

  There was a long pause in which she was certain he was going to say no, but he surprised her. “Sure, I'd like that.”

  ***

  “Dobrescu.” Kayne mumbled into the phone the next morning. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on knees and scrubbed his face with his free hand. He heard radio traffic in the background, interrupted by occasional silence—dispatch. The silence occurred when the dispatcher keyed up to respond to the officer and muted phone conversation. “Hey, sorry about that. Kayne?”

  “Yeah.” Why the hell had he answered the phone without looking at the caller I.D.? No easier way to get roped into working an undesired shift.

  “Wow, asleep at noon—you take your day off seriously.”

  Kayne recognized the flirtatious voice. Candice again. Though most of the guys called her Candy. He simply grunted, hoping she'd get to the point.

  After a moment she took the hint. “Sgt. Balentine wants you to cover a traffic detail for a few hours.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as you can check 10-8.”

  “I can't work past four, I have a date...er, uh plans.” He couldn't—shouldn't—call it a date.

  “The date excuse sounds better.” She laughed. “Especially if it's with me. What time are you picking me up?”

  He'd thought she would have caught a clue by now that he wasn't interested. “Look, Candice, I'm seeing someone.”

  “I won't tell her, if you don't.” Her laugh said the remark wasn’t necessarily a joke.

  After reluctantly agreeing to the shift, Kayne threw on a uniform and tossed some street clothes in a duffel bag. That way if he didn't have time to come home, he wouldn't be stuck in a uniform all evening.

  He waited for a break in radio traffic before calling in for duty. “Eleven-three-eight, I'm 10-8, enroute,”

  “Good morning, sir, scene is mile post 247.5, southbound State Route 87.”

  “Copy.” And wasn't that a fun spot—Corvair Curve–a steep sharp curve on a winding highway halfway down Oxbow Hill, about five miles south of Payson.

  “Hey, Kayne,” Sgt. Balentine greeted. “I need you to come down to the scene. First curve after the warning grid. We're going to be here for a while.”

  “Did dispatch advise you this carriage turns pumpkin at sixteen hundred hours?”

  “Negative, we'll do our best.” Our best, was similar to a parent saying maybe. As in, not fucking gonna happen.

  Kayne arrived on scene and realized God and everybody was there. From the looks of the apparatus, he surmised it must be a HazMat situation. It took a moment, but he located Sgt. Balentine. “What happened?”

  “Fuel tanker straightened out the curve.”

  “Did it explode?”

  “No, but it's leaking.” He gestured toward the firemen. “We're all stuck here until the fuel company deigns to grace us with their presence and clean this mess up. Be warned though, their crew’s on edge. They lost one of their own on a similar call a couple years ago.”

  “Did you work the accident the night Jarred Hallstatt died?” Th
e words were out of Kayne’s mouth before he could stop himself. Surely there couldn't have been two similar accidents that close to each other.

  “What the fuck is it to you?” asked an angry voice from somewhere behind him.

  Kayne turned to find two firemen carrying equipment toward them. One he recognized—Joe Sutton, the guy who'd been manning the grill at the picnic. The other one he was pretty sure he'd never seen before. “Just wondering if this was the same place.”

  “You gonna start taking people on tours? He's buried just up the road. That going to be on the tour too?”

  Kayne was certain he’d never met the belligerent hose-monkey. He’d remember this guy. “What the hell is your problem? It was a simple question.”

  “No problem, just a stupid firefighter waiting around for something to explode. Maybe we can go two for two. You wanna be the one to choose who gets blown to shit and leaves a wife and kids behind this time?”

  Kayne could see how his question might have sounded insensitive. It only made sense for the men who'd been there that night, or those who’d known Jarred Hallstatt, to be feeling the stress on this scene. Emergency personnel were generally a superstitious lot, he also allowed. They knew what vicious bitches the fates could be. They planned vacation time around full moons, avoided saying the word “quiet” in any context while on duty—unless they wanted all hell to break loose—knew dead body calls came in threes, and that officers always sat or stood with their back to a wall. Kayne figured he could probably write a book about emergency services superstitions.

  “This place is notorious for accidents. Bad ones,” Balentine explained. “Once we had a vehicle jump the guardrail, leaving it intact so no one knew about the accident. Hunters found the car suspended in a tree, the bodies trapped inside, months later.”

  Wasn't that a pleasant thought, though Kayne had seen far worse.

  “Hope you brought paperwork or a book.” Translation: you’re going to be here for a while.

  “Both. I figured I was here for eye candy.” Kayne batted his eyelashes. His sole purpose was to be present in case a problem arose.

  “Your girlfriend find that funny?” the belligerent hose-monkey asked.

  “You'd have to ask her.” Where the fuck had that come from? Jess was not, and never would be, his girlfriend. Nor would anyone else be for that matter. He'd never let another woman that close.

  Thankfully, Balentine interrupted what Kayne was sure would turn into more than just a glaring contest with this idiot. “The Deputy at the top of Oxbow Hill is supposed to turn all traffic around.”

  A few moments later, Balentine left Kayne to deal with the scene and the belligerent hose-monkey, who he'd just learned was Fire Lieutenant Cody Johnson. He'd been Jarred Hallstatt's best friend. To Kayne, Cody looked like a weasely little creep. Five-ten and one-eighty, he had sandy blond hair and generic brown eyes that were set a little too close together. There was nothing spectacular to make him stand out, unless Kayne counted a weak chin and a nose a few sizes too large for Cody’s lean face. As if Kayne were any judge of what women found attractive. It made him wonder what Jarred had looked like. Birds of a feather and all that.

  Kayne had just finished his backlog of paperwork and opened his book when Cody walked up. “Sorry to interrupt story time, but any ETA on the fuel company and their plans for this ticking time bomb?”

  It was going to be a long fucking afternoon. Kayne bit back a sigh. He picked up his mic and radioed dispatch. “Eleven-three-eight, ETA on the fuel company?”

  “Unknown ETA, they're coming out of Yuma,” dispatch replied.

  “You're shitting me,” Kayne mumbled to himself. He pressed the talk button again and asked, “Are they aware this thing could take out the side of a mountain if a squirrel decides to chuck an acorn at it? And let me tell you, we've got some angry mutant attack squirrels around here.”

  “Standby.” A moment later, a message came across his onboard computer. Should we put an APB out on Alvin, Simon, and Theodore?

  Kayne heard Cody cough and turned to see him fighting a smile. He'd read the message. Glad someone found her amusing.

  “Girlfriend?” Cody asked.

  “Hell no! She's worse than the squirrels.”

  They both laughed, finally relieving some of the tension.

  “Look, sorry about earlier.”

  Hm, an olive branch? Kayne shrugged. “I didn't mean anything by it. I was just wondering if it's the same place.”

  “Part of orientation for rookies?”

  “No, a friend mentioned it.” Something told Kayne it wasn't a good idea to divulge his association with Jessica, especially since he couldn't put a label on it.

  “It's the same damned spot.”

  “I'm sorry he died.” Kayne sincerely meant that. Though he didn't know her well, he knew enough to know a woman like Jessica Hallstatt deserved happiness.

  Dispatch interrupted any further conversation. “Eleven-three-eight.”

  Kayne picked up his mic. “Go ahead.”

  “ETA four hours, and eleven-three-one said no dice on a replacement.”

  Shit!

  “Copy.” Why the hell had he answered his phone? Even if the fuel company arrived in four hours, it would take them hours to transfer the remaining fuel and clean up. Which meant he was stuck here well into the night. Unbelievable!

  Kayne picked up his cell phone and called dispatch.

  “Hey, don't kill the messenger,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

  “I told both of you I had plans. Where the hell is everyone else?”

  “Still MIA. They probably heard the chatter over their scanners and knew better than to answer their phones.”

  “My plans aside, the fuel company needs to get here now, not four hours from now.”

  “Sorry, babe, not happening. Saguaro Fuel says their only available crew is coming from Yuma.”

  With no other option, Kayne called Jessica to cancel.

  She answered on the first ring. “I heard.”

  “I'm really sorry, short stuff. Rain check?”

  “Hey, no big deal. It was just dinner and board games.”

  But it was a big deal to him. Of course he couldn't tell her that. “I have Saturday off. Maybe we can do something then.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of the idea. Are you asking her out on a date, asshole? Thought you'd decided to leave her the hell alone.

  “I have a rehearsal brunch I’m catering at ten. Polly's going to have the kids all morning. I'm so sorry.”

  He tried to push the inexplicable disappointment aside. “No big deal.”

  Her voice was soft, hesitant. “We could do something afterward.”

  Say no, say no, say no! “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

  “Whatever you'd like.”

  He was sure she wouldn’t want to hear what he’d really like to do with her. “How about we drive into the city? I'm sure we could find something to occupy the kids too.”

  There was a slight pause before she said, “You don't mind taking them with us?”

  Was she disappointed he'd assumed they'd be along or surprised he'd include them? He couldn't tell. “That's up to you, but I assumed we'd do something as a...” His voice trailed off. He'd been about to say “family.” What the fuck was wrong with him? He shoved the confusing thoughts into the corner of his mind. “I just thought you'd want them along.”

  “I think they'd like that.” Her sweet voice caressed his ear making his body tingle.

  “Do you just want me to meet you somewhere?” Please say yes! The thought of being stuck in a vehicle for two hours with her and the kids was too...familial.

  “That's fine. My husband didn't like traveling with the kids either.”

  Dammit. That’s not what he’d meant. “It's not that.” He struggled for a way to explain, but decided on the simple answer. “My truck won't hold us all.” Not technically a lie.

  “We could take the Tahoe. I m
ight even let you drive.”

  “Oh, I can guarantee that would be the case. I'm an old-fashioned guy. I'd insist on driving, and opening your doors, and pulling out your chair.”

  “Careful, you might spoil me.” He heard the smile in her voice. Should he care that his response had made her happy?

  “I don't mind spoiling you a little, short-stuff.” Jesus Christ, Dobrescu, what the hell? He didn't understand it—it was as though his mouth had a mind of its own. It shouldn't matter that she liked being taken care of. He didn't want that type of responsibility.

  “Hey, lover boy,” Cody said.

  Kayne jumped. How long had he been standing there?

  “Hate to interrupt, but can I use your phone? Mine's dead, and I'm not hiking back down to get Sutton's.” Reception in the canyons was often shoddy at best. “Dispatch is trying to contact us.”

  “Hey, baby, I gotta go. One of the firemen needs to borrow the phone.”

  “Have fun bulldogging those angry mutant attack squirrels.” Jessica giggled.

  Giggled. Kayne couldn't help but laugh, even as he wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he'd call and tell her he had to work.

  SEVEN

  It was close to sunset when the deputy at the roadblock radioed Kayne. “Hey, Dobrescu, you've got a visitor headed your way.”

  “What! Who?”

  “Uhh...I figured she was your wife. Sexy little thing with kids in a blue Tahoe. She's bringing you dinner.”

  “No, no, no! Do not let her down here!” The asshole had one goddamn job, and he'd fucked it up when it mattered most. God, it was a fucking HazMat scene.

  “Sorry, man. Crazy stalker chick is already on her way.”

  “She's not a stalker!” Kayne all but shouted through the radio. “Idiot!” he added to himself as he glanced in the rear-view mirror in time to see Jessica pulling up behind his patrol car. Son of a bitch!

  “What are you doing here?” Kayne demanded, slamming the patrol car's door with far more force than necessary. Jessica's smile faltered. Damned if that didn't make him feel guilty, but Jesus, she of all people knew better than to be down here.