Letters to Maxine

CHAPTER 27

Step Two

23:26 Hours

I walked down the sallyport ramp, fumbling with my keys. I would meet Keegs at Cohan's, have a few shots, and call it a night. It never fails that when things get nasty on the streets, they get worse in the locker room. And for whatever reason, it blew up on Max.

I clutched onto the file that Uncle Mike had entrusted to me, containing crucial details about X-4 and the body discovered tonight.

I wasn't in any rush to meet Keegs, so when I got to my Range Rover Defender, I leaned against the hood and looked over the file.

A wind threatened to put the documents to flight, but I pressed my hand on the folder. When I looked around, I saw an empty back parking lot. The Vampire Ops only ran eight RMPs with a supervisor, and by now, Third Watch was home, at Cohan's or deep into someone else's flesh.

I'll look at this later. Time for a drink.

An uneasy feeling washed over me as I opened the door and sat in the front seat.

I thought about the priest outside of 7-11 on Max's first training day. The way he spoke and prophesied about us. His words resonated with me, and I prayed they were true, but something felt off. I know he was an old-world priest in every way, but how he flexed his wrist, almost demanding that I bow and kiss the ring, didn't seem right.

Just as I was about to start the engine, I noticed Maxine walking down the sallyport ramp, engrossed in the phone against her ear. As she approached her two thousand and ten BMW, her hand flailed at her side, gesturing with intensity, and she paced back and forth, unable to stand still.

She paused, looking at her windshield, and then covered her mouth. Her eyes wrinkled and tightened as she turned in hast,h her backside leaning against the driver's side fender.

Her voice bounced off the square brick building, the Six-three, but I couldn't understand what she said. When she touched her forehead and flung her arm to the side, it drew me away from X-4 and the file.

The argument at the pre-school meant shit had gone south with the Handsome Jeremy Hwang. And that's what bothered her more than my snide comments to some asshat clown who thought he was better than us.

Oh, man, Kelly. Don't regret this. Jesus. What the hell? If you're going to be a bear, be a grizzly.

I grabbed the keys from the ignition and took a deep breath. When I opened the door, a chilly wind hit me, and I realized the temperature had dropped. I returned to the truck and pulled the Boston Red Sox sweatshirt off the passenger side seat.

After fumbling with the arms and getting it right side out, I pulled it tight. Tissues and a few dollar bills fell from the pocket as I leaned down, taking them from the seat and ground.

Okay, asshole. Be her comforter.

I closed the door and stepped off, navigating behind several RMPs, quiet for the night. The closer I got, the more I heard snippets of the argument.

"He cheated on me. And you...Are you kidding me? Yeah—and what is your problem with him?"

When I got two car lengths away, and she saw me coming, I wanted to run and hide. I felt awkward and flushed. My fingers shook.

I watched her hold her hair back, prop the phone against her ear, and put her hand on her hip.

"You know what? I don't want to listen to—. It's time you grow up."

She slammed the phone down on the car and fought the tears. I watched as her lips quivered and her cheeks creased from her frustration. With her back now pressed against the driver's side door, she crossed her ankles and folded her arms into a tight hug.