Dee Dee waited with baited breath outside the house, biting her lip. Part of her couldn't stop seeing the blond at the funeral silently blaming her for leaving Rick. Would Liliana react the same? They had been so close, closer than she had ever been with her own mother, before she left for London. What if she hated her now too? She was used to the dogs and knew Rick's uncles were nearby. She'd been here a thousand times, with Rick and without him. She wasn't surprised that the security had been tightened, more for emotional support than any physical threat. She thought of all the hell Rick had been given by both sides: a mobster's son turned police sergeant. The mafia didn't think he was the same boy he'd grown up with or wanted favors from him on cases he had nothing to do with. The police thought he was crooked, even though he was the most honest man she had ever known, sometimes painfully so. Even the public, led by the media, thought he was a trigger-happy, blood-thirsty lunatic, throwing the officer involved shootings in his face every chance they got. So few ever got to know the real Hunter, the one that had killed a fifteen year old boy after he'd fired five rounds only because he was defending her, that had gone to Curuguay and plotted a death scene only to be unable to pull the trigger until he was almost shot in the back. There were so many other stories like that but they all added up to him, just him. Frustrating, even maddening, at times, but one with a code all his own, honest, loving, even sweet. She remembered how he used to take care of her when she was hurt or sick, after the rape…he'd always been there. Where was she when he was murdered? London.
The door finally opened and Liliana walked out onto the steps. She was tall, big boned, but anything but heavy. It was easy to tell she'd been beautiful in her youth; to those who knew her well, she still was. "Cara mia…" She whispered, hugging McCall close. "Come inside."
McCall walked into the house with her, into the kitchen. It was Liliana's comfort zone, the place where she spent the majority of her time. Nothing made her happier than cooking, especially for her family. Her son had been no exception. McCall actually smiled as she remembered the case not long after the rape, in a hotel room with Hunter, and he'd told her he could cook. He'd made this elaborate candlelight meal for them, eggplant parmigiana, and almost had her fooled until she heard the phone call he made to his mom, thanking her for making the food for him, asking her to make a Neapolitan pizza for the next night. McCall had blown the lid off of his little ruse and, after the case was over, told him he had to cook for them, something he could actually cook. Instead, he'd brought her here for the first time and let Liliana teach her how to make the meals. She still remembered his grin as he sat and watched 'his two girls' cook together, like he'd pulled off the best scam ever.
"How are you doing?" McCall asked quietly, knowing the answer, but not knowing what to say.
"My boy is gone." Rick was not her only child, but the only one she'd had left.
McCall nodded. "I know. I…I'm so sorry." She paused. "Is there anything I can do?" Liliana's hands were already moving, kneading the dough for something, pasta it looked like.
"Tell me the truth." She looked for the first time pointedly at McCall's stomach. "Is that my grandchild?"
Dee Dee studied her in pure amazement. "How did you know that? I didn't know that myself until two weeks ago."
"When you left…Ricky was happy for you, of course, but…he wasn't the same. Like after Xena." She knew his partner knew about his late fiancée.
"I didn't know…" McCall closed her eyes for a moment. "No wonder…" She opened her eyes and saw Liliana's questioning look. "His partner. She hates me."
"She worked with Ricky. You were his partner, cara." She cupped McCall's cheek gently. "How is your husband?"
"I don't think I'm married anymore." McCall had not intended on burdening her with this right now, but talking to her had always been so easy. "I told him it was Rick's child. I wanted to tell Rick, but…I was too late."
"And what now?" Liliana wasn't judging, just concerned. The woman had been like the daughter she'd never gotten to have and she knew how deeply her son had loved her. "What will you do?"
"I stayed at Rick's last night. Maybe I shouldn't have, should have asked you first, but…"
"Of course, you should have. Ricky would want you and the baby where you're safe. You can stay there…or with me." She paused. "Will you be a cop again?"
"I don't know." She paused. "I never pictured any of this. I used to tell Rick that I didn't want to be a cop or marry a cop when I had children. I didn't…I didn't want to lose someone else I loved. But we did, didn't we? All three of us." There were tears brimming both women's eyes. "I'd give anything if I could fix this. If I could have another chance. I'd rather have gotten to have what we used to have, even if it was just for a short time, then wait too late. Then wish for another chance."
"I keep thinking…I keep thinking he'll come in the door." She admitted something she hadn't said out loud to anyone before, even her brothers.
"I keep seeing him too. Smiling that smile, always up to something…" She paused. "I wanted a child so badly that I think I got married for the wrong reasons. When I did, I messed up everything: for him, for me, and for our baby. And Alex was a casualty too." She looked out the window. "I keep thinking if I'd stayed…if I hadn't told him I didn't want to marry a cop…if I hadn't been in such a hurry to get married again, to settle down…"
"You blame yourself," Liliana studied her. "Don't. Ricky wouldn't want…" She shook her head. "It's not your fault."
"I'd give anything to have him back." She knew Liliana was the only person who understood that feeling.
"When's the last time you ate?" She wanted to protect the woman that should have been her daughter-in-law and her grandchild.
"I'm not hungry." Her back was hurting and she felt dizzy, tired. She couldn't remember the last time she ate.
Lilian frowned, studying her. There was something wrong, she could feel it. She'd lost her husband and both sons; she couldn't lose the girl or baby. "When's the last time you ate?"
"Day before yesterday?" She knew she hadn't eaten on the plane and hadn't felt like it after the funeral or for breakfast. "Maybe breakfast yesterday. There's…there's a lot…" She didn't finish the sentence, just found some place to sit.
"We're taking you to the hospital. Don't argue. It's what's best for you and the bambino." She helped McCall out to the car. She didn't drive often, but knew enough to get them where they needed to be.