Stella

I almost got up and left. No, not left. Not just that. Fled. I almost fled. I hadn’t expected the sound of Mitch’s voice booming from down the hall to cut through me the way it did. Like someone had connected a defibrillator to my chest. The second his voice reached my ears, something shocked to life inside of me. Something dangerous. Something that had the power to tear away the shelter I’d spent years building around my heart. It was bad enough just being in this building.

This was a mistake. I’d known it the moment I stepped off the elevators and had his secretary lead me to his little office. Just a tiny little space. Three cubicle walls and a desk. Even if she hadn’t told me where to wait, I would have known this was Mitch’s space. Organized clutter. Little notes everywhere with his neat block writing, the way they taught him at the Police Academy. A coffee mug tucked against the wall with “World’s Greatest Cop” scrawled across the side of it. Someone had drawn a picture of penis below that with a Sharpie and I smiled so wide it hurt.

He had no framed pictures on the desk. I didn’t know if that made me happy or sad. I knew he was single. Though I’d left Northpointe years ago, I keep in touch with enough people who make it a point to tell me these things while I pretend disinterest. He had coloring-book pages tacked to a corkboard on the wall. Crude drawings made by the small, chubby hands of children. Messages scrawled in crayon: one said, “Thank you Detektive Gates for making me feel safe and keching bad guys.”

Flashes of memory tore at my heart. I thought I could contain this. So many years had passed I hoped it wouldn’t hurt so much to be back here. No one recognized me. Thank God for that. My name didn’t mean anything to Doreen, his twenty-something secretary. The men and women from Mitch’s police class would be scattered by now. Some still on the streets. Some in command. Many in the Detective Bureau. Or washed out. Or … worse. My chest squeezed with pain and I shut my eyes tight. No. I couldn’t finish the thought. But yeah, coming back here was a mistake. Except I didn’t see that I had any other choice.

When I turned, my breath left me. Seeing Mitch was enough of a shock, but when Ray Huckman came into view, I couldn’t breathe. Too much. Too fast. Another memory slammed into my mind’s eye. The two of them standing shoulder to shoulder with bright eyes and wide smiles, their black police hats pulled low on their foreheads. Their new, shiny badges pinned on their crisp blue uniform shirts. And Brian stood between them, slightly shorter than Mitch, looking up at him with that shit-eating grin he always got right after Mitch ragged on him about something. Young, eager. Northpointe’s newest, finest, ready to hit the streets after graduation day.

I’m the one who took that picture. Getting the three of them to stand still long enough had been the trick. Brian’s mom had stood at my shoulder, clasping her hands together beneath her chin. Tears of pride rolled down her cheeks and after the shutter snapped, she’d gone up to Brian and given him a fat kiss right on his cheek before he could stop her. The next picture I took was of him alone trying to wipe off Mrs. Macavoy’s bright red lipstick while Ray doubled over with laughter just out of the frame.

“Stella!” Ray came to me first. He was bigger than I remembered. Stronger too. He wrapped me into a warm hug and squeezed me tight, lifting me a few inches off the ground.

“Huck!” My voice sounded small, far away. As Ray set me down I lifted my hands and cupped his face. “Good God, you got handsome. What happened?”

He laughed and then cleared his throat. Mitch was still standing in the hallway. I forced myself to say the words I’d rehearsed in the car on the way over. Simple. To the point.

“Hi, Mitch. I’m sorry to just show up like this. I promise I won’t keep you. It’s just. Can we talk? I need your help.” My words came out in a rush. Too abrupt. Too shaky. I wished I could scoop them back in and start over.

“Hey,” Ray said; his eyes darted from me to Mitch then back again. “Yeah. Let me get out of your hair. I’m due downstairs in a few minutes anyway.”

“Oh no,” I said. “I didn’t mean to chase you away.”

Ray shook his head and put his palm up in surrender. “No. Really. I’m still on the clock. Gotta have a prisoner back in Milan in a little over an hour. Damn. Sorry I can’t stay longer. You just make sure this asshole takes care of whatever you need. If he gives you any trouble, call me.”

Ray reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card. It bore the embossed seal of the US Marshal service and his name beneath it.

“Impressive,” I said, fingering the letters. “I’d heard a rumor you moved over there. Good for you.”

“Got me out of Northpointe, anyway,” Ray said. He gave Mitch a tight-lipped nod and kissed the top of my head. “Seriously, Stella. Good to see you, honey. We’ll catch up soon, okay? Promise?”

I nodded and crossed my heart. Ray walked around me and slapped Mitch on the back. He stood against the wall and still hadn’t said anything to me. He just stared at Ray and kept his posture straight. I couldn’t read him. I never could. In the early days of knowing him, Brian had leaned in close and told me not to let Mitch’s hard glare rattle me. It’s just the way he was. Ray whistled as he made his way down the hall and left Mitch and me standing there alone.

“I shouldn’t have come,” I finally said. “I’m sorry. Truly. I can go.”

“Stella.” Mitch’s voice skittered over me, heating my blood. It brought back memories I’d tried to bury for the last ten years. God. Why in the world had I thought this was a good idea? It wasn’t. But the truth was, I had no other choice.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, finally pushing himself off the wall. He came to me and put a hand on my upper arm. I wore a thin silk blouse and his flesh warmed mine through the fabric. He leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Sit down. Sorry about the mess. I really only write reports here. The magic happens in the forensics lab on the other side of the wall. Would you like a tour?”

“What? Oh. Sure. Um … no. Mitch? Maybe some other time. Why don’t I just get straight to the point of my visit? I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re busy. Again, I’m really sorry for kind of barging in on you like this.”

“Why did you?” He moved around me and motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Then he took his seat and cleared some papers from the top of the desk. “I mean, it’s fine. But why didn’t you call?”

I sat down slowly and crossed my legs at the ankle. “Honestly? I was afraid you wouldn’t see me.”

Mitch’s face fell. I studied it. Really studied it. Since the moment he walked down that hall, I’d tried to avoid looking at him too closely. When I knew him best, he’d still had a bit of the gawkiness of youth. They all did, he and Ray and Brian. Now, Mitch had aged into a strong man with hard lines creasing his blazing green eyes. He’d let his thick, wavy brown hair grow a little longer. I liked it. The crew cut they made him wear in the academy didn’t suit him. I resisted the urge to reach across the desk and smooth down the cowlick that turned at his temple. He reared back a little, almost as if he could sense my line of thought. I folded my hands in my lap.

“Stella,” he said; in fact, he almost whispered it. “Of course I’ll always see you. You know that. All you’ve ever had to do was ask.”

“The anniversary is coming,” I said. God. I hadn’t meant to get into this. It wasn’t the reason I came. “Did you know that?”

Mitch swallowed hard. A muscle jumped in his strong, square jaw. He bit his cheek and looked toward the wall. I regretted saying it. But one of us had to. It’s not why I was here but neither of us could pretend that big elephant wasn’t right there in the room between us.

“Ten years,” I said, the words coming hard. “It just kind of crept up on me. Are you going to be at the memorial?”

Mitch kept staring at that point on the wall. “Are you?”

I picked at a piece of lint on my skirt. I shouldn’t have worn this one. I should have worn the tan one. This one showed everything and the cottonwood trees outside the Public Safety Building were in full molt.

“Brian’s father asked me to,” I said. “I don’t think I can say no.”

Mitch raised a brow and nodded. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the wall and leveled it at me. His eyes flashed cold fire. “So that’s what you’re here about? Brian Sr. asked you to come talk to me?”

“Mitch, I—well, actually, no.” Shit. I should have seen this coming as well. Brian Sr. had told me once how Mitch had stopped coming around after the funeral. It hurt him deeply. I knew the reason why and in those early months, I would have given anything to just fade away too. “He asked about you. Or rather he asked me if I still kept in contact with you. He told me you don’t come around anymore and that he misses you.” There. Whatever loyalty I still had to the Macavoys, surely I’d just served it. They couldn’t expect more of me.

“Stella, I can’t help you. If you’ve come all this way to lay some guilt trip on me on Brian’s dad’s behalf, you can save it. I’ll be at the memorial. We all will. Our entire police class. The whole department. As far as the rest of it, that’s my own business. The Macavoys don’t need to take me on as their special project.”

My heart sank. This was going all wrong. “Shit.” I tried again. “No. Mitch. I swear. I’m only bringing Brian up because one of us had to, right? I know it’s not easy for you. It’s damn hard for me too, okay? I still have to live with the fact that the Macavoys and everyone else in this town are always going to look at me as Brian’s grieving widow. Except, we were never married. Everyone seems to forget that part.”

“You still wear his ring on your finger,” Mitch said, his words spilling out like rapid fire. Almost an accusation. He’d noticed. Of course he had. Detective Gates was trained to notice things like that.

My heart lurched. I turned the gold band on my right index finger with my thumb. I didn’t wear it on the left hand anymore, but yes, I still wore it. Just a simple gold band with a one-carat stone. A cubic zirconia. Our little secret. I’d refused to let Brian spend thousands of dollars he didn’t have on a piece of jewelry. We’d have time to save up for that later. Except, we never did. He’d died of a gunshot wound in the middle of the street after a domestic violence call went bad. He’d worn a vest, but they don’t cover everything. And I still wore his ring. Even after everything that happened, Brian would always be a part of me and this was my way of honoring that. And I bloody well didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said. He leaned back in his chair and his face dropped. For the first time since he’d walked back into my life, that guarded mask left his expression. His eyes narrowed, filling with pain. “Jesus. I’m sorry, Stella. I know that’s none of my goddamn business. It’s been a colossally shitty day and I’m an ass for taking it out on you even slightly. I’ll call Brian Sr. Tomorrow. I swear. You don’t have to worry.”

Nodding, I folded my hands back in my lap, though I kept my thumb over the gold band. “That’s good. You should. But I told you, that’s not why I’m here.”

“What is it?”

I took a breath and reached down where I’d set my messenger bag. I pulled out a single-page letter. It was badly creased from all the times I’d folded it, hoping the words it bore would change when I unfurled it again. I smoothed it out and handed it to Mitch. He didn’t read it. Not at first.

“Tell me,” he said.

I ran a hand through my hair. “In a million years I never thought I’d come back to Northpointe with the intention to stay. I got my master’s degree. It was hard after Brian died. You know, to stay focused. But I finally did it. Speech pathology.”

Mitch nodded but his face fell a little. “I had heard. Good for you, Stella. I’m proud of you. But you’re staying? I mean, you’ve been in town for a while?”

I tried to swallow my anxiety. Not telling Mitch when I came back to town a few months ago felt like a betrayal at worst, cowardice at best. But I needed to figure out some things for myself before I brought the past back in. At least, that had been the plan. That crumpled letter changed all of that.

“I worked in a nursing home for a while. Patients with brain injuries have aphasia a lot of the time. And I’ve worked part time at a private school near Traverse City. But nothing really good. Or permanent. My dream has always been to work with kids in a school.”

“I remember,” he said. The way his eyes flashed I thought he remembered something more. I tapped my fingers on the desk and pressed on.

“I got an offer with Northpointe Public Schools. Collingwood Elementary. Full time. Full benefits. Everything I’ve always wanted. I had a lot of reservations about coming back here, but … I don’t know … there have been a lot of signs pointing me in this direction lately. Anyway, I interviewed with them last week. It was just supposed to be a formality. I mean that’s literally what the principal said. I even got my picture taken for my ID and filled out all the tax forms.”

“What happened?”

I swallowed hard. I still felt the same shock and anger roiling through me even though twenty-four hours had passed since that letter came certified mail. The principal didn’t even have the guts to call me in person.

“Read it,” I said.

Mitch raised a brow and his eyes darted over the letter. His scowl deepened, making a dimple in his chin more pronounced.

“I failed a background check,” I said.

Mitch turned the letter over, searching the back of it for some explanation that wasn’t there. The same way I did the first time.

“They fingerprinted me,” I went on. “Sent a picture of my driver’s license and social security number to the State Police. Something came back.”

“What?”

I shrugged. “That’s the thing. I have no idea. The principal wouldn’t tell me the specifics. Obviously, I called him first right after I got that letter. He said he wasn’t at liberty to discuss it and that I should call a lawyer if I had a problem or more questions. He actually told me if I showed up on school grounds he’d have the liaison officer escort me out of the building. I mean, what the hell? I got the runaround when I tried to call State Police too.”

“I’ll just bet.” Mitch tossed the letter to the corner of his desk and ran a hand across his jaw. “Stella, I’ve got to ask you.”

I put a hand up. “I know. And the answer is no. Whatever the hell popped on that criminal background check, it’s got to be a mistake. My God, Mitch. I even drive like an old lady. I haven’t got so much as a parking ticket since I was in college. And I’m not asking you to fix it. I was just hoping you’d have access to the records or something. That you could look up whatever it is they found. I asked around. Everyone says this is kind of your area of expertise.”

“What, accessing confidential information that could cost me my job?”

He meant it as a joke, I think, but the air went out of my lungs and he must have seen the fear in my eyes. I’d tried to play strong, but inside, I was crumbling. I’d understood the tone in the Collingwood principal’s voice. He already believed the worst of me and even if I got this straightened out, there was a good chance it wouldn’t matter. The Northpointe rumor mill would ruin me before I got another shot.

“Identity theft. Or mistaken identity. Or falsification of records. I don’t know. Whatever this is. Help me file a report or something. Help me get my life back, Mitch. I know what this costs you having me sit here in front of you. It costs me too. I swear to God, if this wasn’t so important. If I thought there was anyone else I could go to, or that I trusted as much as you, I wouldn’t be here.”

Mitch moved quickly. He came around the desk and put his arms around me. Everything in me went stiff as if I could erect an invisible wall. This would cost me. His touch would make everything real again.

“Don’t worry, Stella. I’m on your side. I’ve always been on your side. We’ll figure this out.”

It was the exact thing I needed to hear and the exact thing I knew could tear us both apart all over again. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just … couldn’t. I jerked out of his arms and grabbed my bag off the floor. Stumbling backward I rose and moved around him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought this would be okay. Please, just forget it. I have to go.”

“Stella.” His voice was calm, even, and filled with purpose. He made a move toward me, his hands spread wide like he was approaching a cornered animal. That’s exactly what I felt like.

“I’ll see you around, Mitch. Take care of yourself.”

Then I half stumbled around the cubicle wall and headed for the elevators.