thought stuck in his head, and until she told him the truth, it was going to stay stuck. Maybe even then.
Unsurprisingly, his only reply to her assertion was to turn away and make the call on his cell phone.
When he was done, he turned back to face her. “Someone will be by in an hour or so.”
“Great, here’s hoping it’s not too much or so .”
“Let’s go for a walk in the park. Maybe the fresh air will improve your mood.”
“I’ll still be with you, won’t I?”
He clenched his jaw, his blue eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“Then I doubt my mood will improve.”
He didn’t say another word until they’d walked half the circumference of the park. “Explain.”
“What, the theory behind nanotechnology? Or did you want me to put quantum physics in easy-to-use terms?”
“Neither, smart mouth.” For just a second he sounded exasperated rather than distant, but then he drew his cold demeanor around him like a force field again. “You know exactly what I want here.”
“An explanation of why I know so much about the fallibilities of the system?”
“Yes.”
“When we weren’t on the street, which only happened twice and didn’t last all that long,” she hastened to add…she hated pity and she didn’t want Brett going all sympathetic on her, “after my dad’s death, my mom and I lived in low-rent housing. People’s places got broken into all the time in our neighborhood. Ours included.”
And they’d never once called the cops. Mom had been too sloshed and Claire hadn’t wanted the interference. Besides, they’d had nothing of any real value worth stealing. She’d been pretty sure the cops wouldn’t have even made a personal visit off the call.
Brett said nothing.
She sighed. “Look, I know how hard it is for the average citizen living in middle-class America to accept, but the cops aren’t all guys in white hats and even the ones who are heroic can’t fix society’s ills. They help, but there’s only so much they can do.”
“That doesn’t mean they can’t do anything.”
“I know that, but a call to 911 can only help when there’s something left to fix.”
“Explain what you mean by that.”
She bit back a sigh. “My dad committed suicide when I was eleven. He got laid off…you know how dynamic the computer industry is. Well, his job got phased out and he and my mom had been living on the edge of financial disaster since before I was born. We were in debt up to our eyebrows because they both had to have the best of everything. New cars every couple of years, a huge house…I was in private school. The works, but when he couldn’t get another high-paying job right away, the house of cards started to fold.”
“And he killed himself rather than deal with bill collectors?” Brett asked in disbelief.
“Yes. It devastated my mom. She found him…he shot himself. That sounds like a trite story told on the six o’clock news, but I lived it. She ran around screaming, ‘Call 911, call 911!’ Only there was nothing anyone could do. Dad was dead, we were in bankruptcy, and even her designer clothes got repoed to pay the bills.”
“You have a thing against the police because they couldn’t save your dad?”
“No. I don’t have a thing against police.”
He made a sound that effectively said, “Yeah, right.”
“Okay, so I have a thing…but it’s not against them. I just have a hard time dealing with them. Mom started drinking after Dad died, and she wasn’t an easy drunk. She didn’t just go to sleep on the sofa and snore the National Anthem. She brought men home, she had screaming rages and fights with her boyfriends. The cops would be called. They’d come and they’d threaten to take me away. Mom would get hysterical and I had to calm her down. She said if she lost me, too, that she’d do what my dad did.”
“Kill herself?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed her.”
“Why wouldn’t I? She was weak. Just like my dad. Neither of them
Unsurprisingly, his only reply to her assertion was to turn away and make the call on his cell phone.
When he was done, he turned back to face her. “Someone will be by in an hour or so.”
“Great, here’s hoping it’s not too much or so .”
“Let’s go for a walk in the park. Maybe the fresh air will improve your mood.”
“I’ll still be with you, won’t I?”
He clenched his jaw, his blue eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“Then I doubt my mood will improve.”
He didn’t say another word until they’d walked half the circumference of the park. “Explain.”
“What, the theory behind nanotechnology? Or did you want me to put quantum physics in easy-to-use terms?”
“Neither, smart mouth.” For just a second he sounded exasperated rather than distant, but then he drew his cold demeanor around him like a force field again. “You know exactly what I want here.”
“An explanation of why I know so much about the fallibilities of the system?”
“Yes.”
“When we weren’t on the street, which only happened twice and didn’t last all that long,” she hastened to add…she hated pity and she didn’t want Brett going all sympathetic on her, “after my dad’s death, my mom and I lived in low-rent housing. People’s places got broken into all the time in our neighborhood. Ours included.”
And they’d never once called the cops. Mom had been too sloshed and Claire hadn’t wanted the interference. Besides, they’d had nothing of any real value worth stealing. She’d been pretty sure the cops wouldn’t have even made a personal visit off the call.
Brett said nothing.
She sighed. “Look, I know how hard it is for the average citizen living in middle-class America to accept, but the cops aren’t all guys in white hats and even the ones who are heroic can’t fix society’s ills. They help, but there’s only so much they can do.”
“That doesn’t mean they can’t do anything.”
“I know that, but a call to 911 can only help when there’s something left to fix.”
“Explain what you mean by that.”
She bit back a sigh. “My dad committed suicide when I was eleven. He got laid off…you know how dynamic the computer industry is. Well, his job got phased out and he and my mom had been living on the edge of financial disaster since before I was born. We were in debt up to our eyebrows because they both had to have the best of everything. New cars every couple of years, a huge house…I was in private school. The works, but when he couldn’t get another high-paying job right away, the house of cards started to fold.”
“And he killed himself rather than deal with bill collectors?” Brett asked in disbelief.
“Yes. It devastated my mom. She found him…he shot himself. That sounds like a trite story told on the six o’clock news, but I lived it. She ran around screaming, ‘Call 911, call 911!’ Only there was nothing anyone could do. Dad was dead, we were in bankruptcy, and even her designer clothes got repoed to pay the bills.”
“You have a thing against the police because they couldn’t save your dad?”
“No. I don’t have a thing against police.”
He made a sound that effectively said, “Yeah, right.”
“Okay, so I have a thing…but it’s not against them. I just have a hard time dealing with them. Mom started drinking after Dad died, and she wasn’t an easy drunk. She didn’t just go to sleep on the sofa and snore the National Anthem. She brought men home, she had screaming rages and fights with her boyfriends. The cops would be called. They’d come and they’d threaten to take me away. Mom would get hysterical and I had to calm her down. She said if she lost me, too, that she’d do what my dad did.”
“Kill herself?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed her.”
“Why wouldn’t I? She was weak. Just like my dad. Neither of them
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