Solitary Man(44)
Author: Carly Phillips

Janine shook her head. “Tell him about school.”

“What will that accomplish?”

“Maybe nothing. But maybe when he realizes you won’t need him for long, it’ll scare him out of that complacent shell of his and show him exactly what he has. And what he might lose.”

Nikki rose from the bed. “You may have a point.”

“I usually do. Now let’s get this over with.”

Not pretending to misunderstand, Nikki headed for the family room and returned with the bag Kevin had brought the week before. She placed it on the center of the bed while Janine stood off to the side, wide-eyed, staring at the sight as if it might come to life at any moment.

Nikki sighed. If her life ever got easy, she might not recognize her role in this universe. “Want me to open it?” she asked.

“Please.”

Her hands shook as she untied the knot on the heavy plastic bag. Her breath caught as she pulled out the dark blue uniform her brother had worn for his last day on earth. And her heart constricted as she listened to Janine’s soft cries as the blood stains on the material became apparent. She shut her eyes and tears fell anyway.

She wished Kevin were here to support her. Did he long for her presence when he put himself through a difficult task, like confronting his father? Or was he merely glad she was gone?

When Janine gingerly took the uniform out of her hands, Nikki stepped back. “Want me to give you some privacy?” she asked her sister-in-law.

“No. I really need your support. I need you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“You know it’s not like I haven’t accepted things.”

“Hey, you’re human. This isn’t easy for me either, so don’t be so hard on yourself. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with it?” Nikki asked.

“Burn it,” Janine muttered. “But I wanted to make sure I got all his personal things first.”

While Janine patted down the clothes, searched through the pockets and looked through assorted pieces of paper, Nikki put the rest of the sweaters and other clothing into the last box. She turned back around to see Janine staring at a sheet of paper.

“What’d you find?”

“A report. A goddamn discipline report dated the day Tony died.”

Nikki walked up beside her. “Mind if I take a look?”

Janine slammed the paper onto the bed and retreated, closing herself into the bathroom. Wondering what on that paper had Janine so upset, Nikki eased herself onto the mattress. She picked up the scrap of paper and turned it over.

“Failure to follow procedure. Not the first incident,” she read aloud. Various other papers had scattered across the bed and each one she unwrapped contained another discipline report. Same complaint. Which didn’t come as a surprise to Nikki, or Janine, she supposed, or anyone who knew her rebel brother well.

Including Kevin. But he’d chosen to shoulder the burden anyway, she thought, and was transported back to the night in Kevin’s apartment.

The night Tony had died.

* * *

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nikki said.

Kevin grunted. “Tell that to your brother. I’m inside babysitting my drunken father and he gets an emergency call. Why take the time to go back inside for me?” he said, his voice full of self-loathing. A bottle of scotch sat on the kitchen table.

“Because it’s procedure not to go out on a call without backup?” Nikki asked.

“I should have been in the goddamn car.”

“And Tony shouldn’t have gone off alone.”

“If I hadn’t been distracted, he wouldn’t have.”

She shook her head. Arguing with Kevin when he was in this mood wouldn’t do either of them any good. “And you think this is going to help?” she asked, lifting the half-empty bottle.

“I’m no better than my old man and at least this proves it,” he muttered. “And maybe if I finish it off, it’ll help me forget.”

She walked up beside him and held out her arms. “I’ll help you forget… if you’ll do the same for me.”

* * *

The discipline reports proved what she’d known all along. It wasn’t Kevin’s fault. Her renegade brother wouldn’t think twice about taking a call solo, especially if Kevin was tied up with family. Family was important to Tony, just as it was to Kevin. He just didn’t realize it yet. It was so like Tony to protect the people he loved.

Just as it was like Kevin. Only that time, it had backfired on her brother. He’d sabotaged his own life, just like Kevin was slowly sabotaging his.

FOURTEEN

The bathroom door opened wide and Janine walked out, eyes red and faced washed clean of makeup. Nikki understood. She was feeling pretty wiped out herself.

“Do you think Kevin knew Tony had been written up that many times? That he’d received the last one the same day he was killed?”

Nikki shrugged. “Did you know?”

Janine shook her head. “Nothing official. If you’d asked me, I could have guessed. I know he’d been orally reprimanded. The guys would joke about it over dinner. But it never bothered either one because Kevin had always backed Tony up and been able to anticipate his renegade moves.”

“Riggs and Murtaugh,” Nikki said laughing, recalling Mel Gibson and Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies.

“It was funny,” Janine agreed. “Until it got him killed. Why didn’t he think of me before he ran off half-cocked?” Janine rubbed her hands over her eyes.

Nikki nodded, barely able to draw a breath, let alone formulate a response. “I don’t know the answer to that any more than I understand why Kevin still blames himself for that night.”

“Well we’re finished here,” Janine said. “The Salvation Army will be here in an hour for the rest of the things, the landlord rented the apartment with most of the furnishings…”

“And you want to be alone.” It wasn’t a difficult guess. “Since your flight is tomorrow night, can I see you to say good-bye?”

Janine nodded. “Kevin invited me to come by.”

“Of course he did.” He just hadn’t mentioned it to her. She fingered the paper in her hand and gestured to the rest of the papers unraveled on the bed. “Do you mind if I take these?”

“Not at all. You want to show them to Kevin?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.” She didn’t think it would change anything, but he deserved to know. Deserved to be relieved of one huge responsibility with which he’d saddled himself.