Page 10 of Grissom
She had that once, so very long ago, in another lifetime. But her life had been turned upside down the day her parents died. One of her dad’s friends had lovingly intervened and whisked her away from Duluth, Minnesota, to far-off New York City. Frederick Lamb could’ve been her grandfather, but he wasn’t. And yes, he’d done all he could to ensure the rest of her life was comfortable. Including marrying her. Naturally, the press had attacked her for that. Bullying, slandering, and spreading lies were what they did best. Character assassination, too.
Without knowing anything about her or what she’d already lived through, they’d declared her a gold-digger and so much worse. At the time, she’d still been in shock from her parents’ deaths. She’d been living both a dream and a nightmare and hadn’t the faintest idea how to handle that kind of hostility. But never once had Freddie wavered in his devotion and protection. When he’d been murdered, Tuesday had found out how much he’d loved her. In his grandfatherly way, he’d left everything to her. His penthouse. His skyscrapers. His businesses. Hisshipping company and every acre of his prime NYC real estate. By then, she’d been viciously educated enough to know she’d be better off turning Freddie’s successful business ventures over to his sons. She hadn’t a clue how to manage the extensive Lamb empire anyway. It turned out to be a good decision. Jeff and Henry Lamb were her best friends. They kept in touch and included her in their family events. But as much as she knew they loved her, she was still, and would forever be, that orphaned rag girl standing in the wintry cold, outside Macy’s lavish Christmas window display. Forever wishing Santa would bring Mom and Dad back. Forever on the outside, looking in.
Thank God, Tuesday was there the day Mike Estes dangled poor Tanner, by his ankle, off the three-story balcony of that high-priced hotel on the beach. The bully was berating Tanner, a six-year-old for the love of God, for the childhood offense of wetting the bed. What should’ve been a lazy day tanning in the sun ended with Tuesday screaming at Estes, from the parking lot below to, “Stop right this minute! Put that little boy down! Now!”
Madder than a hornet, she’d stomped up the stairs to that balcony and launched herself into Estes’ ugly face. Of all things, the boy’s mother had jumped to her sadistic boyfriend’s aid. Like he’d needed help more than her son?
It still boiled Tuesday’s blood. She hadn’t known anyone’s name when she’d launched herself into the heart of that dysfunctional-as-shit family, but she did now. When Pam McCoy told her to mind her own blankety-blank business, Tuesday attacked. Not physically. There was no way she could’ve taken on Estes or Tanner’s mother by herself. Instead, she’d gotten into a screaming match. Names were traded, some of them informational, some not so nice. By then—thank God!—Tanner was back inside the room with his little brother. But that hadn’t meant he was safe, and Tuesday wasn’t dumb enough to assume he’d ever be safe with that woman.
When Pamela got snotty and screeched, “You want these little shits? Fine! Take ’em! They’re yours! Keep ’em! I don’t ever want to see ’em again!”
Tuesday barked back with a loud and clear, “Yes! You bet I’ll take those boys! Give them to me. Now!” Immediately. As in right then and there, by heck. There was no doubt in her mind those frightened babies would be better off with her.
Pamela had stormed back into her room and returned, dragging the crying boys behind her in one hand, a shabby suitcase in the other. Which she’d promptly tossed over the railing, like the cruel, wickedWitch of the Westshe was. Shoving her sons at Tuesday, so hard that Tanner stumbled, she’d screeched, “There. You want ’em? They’re yours. I don’t ever want to see them again. They’re nothing but a pain in my ass anyway.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t.” With her shaking hands on those frightened little guys’ quaking shoulders, Tuesday had simply turned them toward the stairs and together they’d left their mother behind. At ground level, they’d stopped long enough to collect the damaged suitcase and pick up what clothes and toys lay scattered across the parking lot. Within the hour, Tuesday had moved those poor babies into her hotel room, where they all broke down and had a good, long cry.
Tanner had blamed himself for everything, and little Luke had just wanted his Daddy, whoever the hell that was. Not like it mattered then. Tuesday took charge of her poor, frightened charges, got them showered and dressed in dirty pajamas from their broken suitcase. Which she wouldn’t have done if she’d had another choice. Everything in that suitcase had stunk to high heaven. The next morning, she’d taken them shopping for whatever those traumatized little guys had needed. But first, she’d fixed an All-American breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup and scrambled eggs in her room. Those boys ate as ifthey’d been starved. Tuesday guessed their thoughtless mother had simply ordered room service, which in Costa Rica meant Gallo Pinto, a dish of rice and beans topped off with chopped fresh vegetables and plantains—not the kind of breakfast most American children would appreciate.
But Tuesday wasn’t their fairy godmother. She couldn’t just wave a wand or crinkle her nose to solve their problems. But she could give them what they needed. She’d been through some crap in her life, but, until her parents died, all she’d known was love. Not these two little guys. No child should ever—EVER—have to endure the abuse Tanner had. Every time Tuesday thought of that ugly brute holding him upside-down over the railing, yelling at him, threatening to drop him…
Damn him! Damn Estes and damn Pamela, too! What a shrew!
Again and again, Tuesday had to fight to contain her anger that first night, for the boys’ sakes. They’d been through enough, and she had no idea what their life had been like before then. But comforting them she could do and she did. She ordered dinner in, and after they ate, she and the boys spent the night eating snacks and watching a rented animated movie about a friendly giant. Tuesday couldn’t recall the title; only how warm and sweet those two little bodies had felt snuggled against hers. Only how Tanner had cried during the first night for his dad. How he’d wet the bed, and it was no wonder. Who wouldn’t pee themselves after being dangled upside down and threatened with death by an ogre ten times his size?
Tuesday had never wished evil on anyone in her life. Cursing others served no purpose, but she knew how to defend herself and her friends. Just ask Shane and Everlee. She had no problem taking out a threat, not the polar bear or the human asshole kind, pardon her French. Her fingertips fluttered over her lips at that dirty word. She almost sounded like Shane and his friend,Heston Contreras. Both had potty mouths, but not her. Not usually. Cussing was a slippery slope that led to worse profanity, and what kind of a mother would that make her? Only…
I’m not anybody’s mother.Wasn’t even in the ballpark. Motherhood started by falling in love with the right man. The only man in Tuesday’s life at the moment was the crusty older fellow who sent her on assignments all over the world. Always alone. Most of the time to isolated climates where only penguins, seals, polar bears, or camels lived. Or to natural disasters and war zones, to catch the emotional cost of man’s inhumanity to man.
What she wouldn’t give to be back in that tiny hotel room in Costa Rica again, munching popcorn with two little boys who, for one brief moment, had thought she hung the moon. Those few days with them had been a glimpse of paradise. Sure, poor Tanner had been embarrassed by his lack of bladder control, but never once had Tuesday made him feel guilty. Poor sweet kid. If anything, she’d gone out of her way to keep him and Luke too busy to think about how they’d been treated. Or how quickly their mother had tossed them out.What a witch!
Tuesday slapped the faucet off and dried her tears along with her hair in the only absorbent towel she’d brought with her. Man, she was tired of her life. Or lack of it. She really was running on empty. Like it or not, she was done being Robert’s trusty Gal Friday. It was time he found someone else to trek the world at his command. Something had to change, and that something was her.
Chapter Six
Grissom couldn’t believe the elegant hotel suite Murphy had prepared for him and his boys after he’d found out Pam trashed their modest two-bedroom home in Silver Spring, Maryland, the night before she’d run off to Costa Rica. Which was just as well. That place had only been a quick buy and temporary solution after Grissom moved his family from Graham, Washington. He’d intended to take time finding something larger and closer to TEAM HQ in western Virginia. There was no going back now.
He didn’t ask Murphy exactly how she’d trashed the house or his things. He had nothing of value. Neither did his boys. But he could imagine. Pamela could be pleasant, but that mood never lasted long. She’d never been a strong, resilient, capable, alpha-type of female, the kind of woman who’d take care of herself and her family when he deployed. Some wives were. Not Pam.
She’d always been more Jekyll and Hyde, one minute sweet and affectionate; the next, a jealous, insecure, name-calling she-wolf, who lashed out at everything and anyone who got in her way. He’d put up with her physical abuse for the past six years because he’d honestly thought that was what fathers of sons did. They endured to the end, damn it, and they kept that shit to themselves so they didn’t scare their kids. Like his father had.
No. More.
Grissom was done ignoring the truth, or acting like an ostrich and burying his pain and humiliation the way his father had. His boys were hurting, and he was man enough to admit he needed help, too. Lots of help, given how long he’d put up with Pam’s shit.
Both Tanner and Luke were exhausted, nervous wrecks by the time they got to the hotel. But while the flight into Virginia had been long and tiring, for the first time since Grissom had been stuck in the looney bin Murphy called a sanitarium, he could breathe. He’d even slept on the plane, but only after Tanner and Luke had fallen asleep, cuddled on his lap.
The pilot and flight attendants had all been gentle with the boys, which had helped Grissom relax. His overly protective tendency to lash out first and ask questions later hadn’t manifested once on the long flight home. Not even when the pilot had invited both boys to join him in the cockpit. It had helped that the guy left the cockpit door open so Grissom could watch. He would’ve been fine with them staying up front for an hour if they’d wanted. But both boys had run back to him after a very brief visit.
During the time they’d been with the pilot, Grissom had watched his sons like an eagle watched over his eaglets. Luke had been excited, but he’d never suffered his mother’s wrath like Tanner had. Luke had eagerly climbed into the co-pilot’s seat, but Tanner had stood wooden, stiff, and unsmiling between the seats. He’d nodded when spoken to, but Grissom noticed he’d also stepped back when the pilot had reached for him, only intending to shake his hand. Luke had enjoyed the adventure, but Tanner had acted as if it were torture.
Worse, Tanner had no more than returned to Grissom’s side when he’d urgently needed to use the bathroom. Grissom had paid extra-close attention to that simple act of his son relieving his bladder, and thank heavens the stream flowing out of Tanner wasn’t red. Wasn’t even pink. Still…
Grissom suspected the worst. Had Estes molested his son? Had Pam allowed it? Encouraged it? Too bad they were both deceased, because the need to kill them again was damned nearuncontrollable. Just thinking that his little boys might have had to fend off an adult male was—
Shit! Shit! Shit!
As he lay there in the king-size hotel bed now, with both boys draped over him like two baby sloths, he knew damned well that Pamela hadn’t just bullied and battered him. She’d mistreated his sons too, and he’d been a dumb, blind ass to have ever believed that a mother wouldn’t hurt her own children.
