Chapter 6.
Boyd stops the car on his driveway. To cast an absent-minded glance towards that upstairs window is an unconscious thing really. He freezes. The light is burning... Luke's bedroom... For one brief moment his heart is full of such overwhelming, unrealistic hope... Then the reality sinks in. Luke will never come home. Not any more. Luke is dead and buried. The only grim consolation is to know that for sure at last.
The traces of the present occupant of the upstairs bedroom are visible right away. Boyd hardly recognises his former impeccable living-room. The carpet is scattered with candy papers, apple cores and orange peels. Unwashed glasses and plates left in any imaginable place. All the couch cushions are down on the floor, forming some sort of nest in front of the TV. He takes a step forward, intending to pick them up and nearly smashes the TV remote under his foot. Several books have been dragged out of the shelf and misplaced later, ruining the usual straight lines. There's one still open on the couch, an half-eaten cheese sandwich manifestly left to serve as a bookmark, greasy fingerprints all over the pages. Boyd can literally feel his blood pressure hit records. That damned girl has undoubtedly turned his house into a pigsty in direct intention to test him. The best approach might probably be ignoring such deliberate provocation completely, but tonight he's just too fucking sick and tired to swallow it all up. He heads decisively up the stairs, determined to introduce her some basic rules of this household.
He finds the object of his vexation blissfully asleep, curled up in such a kitten-like way he just can't help smiling. It's so familiar to be in this room and watch the sleeping child. Countless times has he stood right there, watching little Luke sleep peacefully. Golden little moments, often the only ones he could spend with his son that day. And far too soon came the nights when no matter what time he reached home, the boy managed to show up even later. If he bothered to come at all. His anger has faded away, replaced by regret and melancholy and a distant hint of something long-forgotten that makes him bend over the girl and gently adjust her blanket before turning off the light and returning downstairs.
He discards the suit jacket and starts to clean up the mess in resignation.
Finally done with it, he sinks wearily on the couch. It's going to be a long night, sleepless despite the physical exhaustion. If he were alone, he'd just take that bottle of Scotch he always has in store for such occasions and refill his glass with the burning liquid until he reaches that deceptive state of numbness when all the disturbing thoughts become foggy and stop torturing. No chance of such easy escape tonight - he certainly can't get waisted having the girl on his responsibility.
That fleeting moment upstairs has somehow stirred up so many bitter-sweet memories. He has put everything reminding Luke carefully out of sight, but one photo is still easily available. He hasn't still got himself to remove it from his wallet.
Blue sky, green football field and Luke, broad smile on his face, holding the black-and-white squared ball above his head triumphantly. A reminder of a perfect day.
They used to be as close as any father and son could ever be and Luke - such a bright and lively kid, nothing predicting what was to come. How could everything go so wrong!?
You don't have a clue what it takes to really love your own flesh and blood...
He's done his job long enough to know better than to pay too much attention to the accusations, insolence and threats thrown at him by someone he's just nailed for murder. But in this case that bastard Nigel Brown just said out loud his own deepest fear, the doubt constantly gnawing his heart.
He did love his son, with all his heart, from that glorious moment the little screaming bundle was put on his hands for the first time. But what if all the love and affection he had to offer just wasn't enough to keep Luke out of harms way, wasn't enough to help him find his way back...
Maybe Mary realised that and therefore kept insisting that they should admit defeat and get divorced despite of all his stubborn efforts to keep the failing marriage together.
''I'm doing it for Luke's sake,'' he used to justify himself.
''So am I!'' she snapped back.
Maybe it wasn't about defiance and self-interest at all and had he let her go and take the boy with her everything could have been different.
People like you shouldn't be allowed to have children...
He buries his face into his hands, knowing well that there won't be any tears to offer some temporary relief from the burning angst.
After that one moment of weakness and despair in the morgue he pulled himself together and faced everything with dignity. This tragedy wasn't just an evil twist of fate, he fully acknowledged his guilt and therefore had no right to lament and cry. That's why he so bluntly turned down Grace's every whole-hearted offer to be the shoulder to cry on, unable to explain her that his way was to clench his teeth and accept all the pain and grief as deserved punishment. And now he seems to have forgotten how to cry altogether, only long hours behind the computer screen and cold windy days proving that his eyes still had the ability to produce drops of fluid.
''Is something wrong?''
He almost jumps, having not heard the girl come downstairs. Lost in depressive reflection he momentarily forgot her existence altogether.
She stands in front of him, dressed in flower-patterned pyjamas, long hair loose around her shoulders. And the concern on her face is absolutely sincere.
''What are you doing up that late?'' Boyd demands, hoping to elude answering her question.
''Woke up thirsty, wanted some juice.'' Brief and logical explanation. She keeps scrutinizing him. ''What's the matter with you?''
''I'm fine.''
Erin doesn't fall for a statement that clearly lacks conviction and enthusiasm.
''You don't look fine at all. You look ill. I can make you some hot tea with honey if you like! Or maybe you need a headache pill or something...?''
All day he gets nothing but defiance and now in the middle of the night she suddenly decides to be so sociable!
Boyd gives an irritated sigh. ''It's past midnight and I'm dog-tired, so yes, sure I don't look my very best right now. All I need is to be left in peace. Just grab your glass of juice or milk or whatever you wanted and go back to sleep!''
His aim to get rid of the girl is too brusque and she looks truly offended.
He tries to soften his recent sharpness, managing a bleak smile. ''It is very nice of you to be concerned about me, but there's really no need to worry, everything is OK. I just had a rough day at work.''
Mentioning that is a big mistake, he realises a moment later, confronted with the waterfall of childish curiosity.
''It was a murder case, wasn't it? Who was killed? Why? How? Who did it? Did you catch the murderer?'' Erin has perched herself on the opposite end of the couch, fully determined to get the answers.
He stops her sternly. ''I can't discuss police matters with you.''
''Why not? It's not some top secret thing, is it? And I won't tell anybody anything, honest! Oh, I see,'' her expression turns into a knowing smirk, ''it was something so creepy you just don't want to tell me about it.''
''It wasn't anything particularly 'creepy','' he admits to fend her off, ''Just ordinary police work, nothing interesting for you...''
''But it had to be bad enough if you can't get any sleep because of it! You know, our teacher once said that when you're upset about something and feel really bad, it's always good to talk about it with somebody. It really helps, trust me! You can talk to me. Don't worry, I won't get any nightmares, I've probably seen much worse stuff on TV already.''
Boyd nearly groans. Just the thing he needs – an amateur psychologist right on his very own living room couch. And far more persistent than the professional one he's got at work. If he wants to get rid of her, he has to tell her something. He quickly tries to put together a suitably adapted version of the case. And naturally that damned girl has to make it extra hard, interrupting him with so many specifying questions that it feels pretty much like being cross-examined by an over-eager defence lawyer in the end.
''...that sick girl is in the hospital now and her father is in prison so they can't do any harm ever again. And that boy got back to his mother again. So you see – everything ended really well. No reason for any nightmares,'' he concludes with well-feigned optimism, not entirely sure whom he tries to convince in the overall positive outcome more – Erin or himself rather.
To his relief Erin seems to be finally satisfied and ready to leave. Then the photograph that's still on the table catches her attention.
''Is this the boy you managed to save?''
A handful of burning salt straight into the never-healing wound. His answer is barely audible.
''No, I couldn't save him...''
''You're so sad because of him then, right? Because something happened to him?'' She doesn't miss the sudden change in him. ''Oh God, he died, didn't he?''
Boyd gives an almost involuntary nod.
''What happened?''
The sudden wave of grief has left him no strength to fence off the painful topic. He tells. Without mincing the words or avoiding the gory details this time, not really considering who he's talking to. He just repeats the monologue he's played in his head for so many times on sleepless nights - the admission of all the faults and failures, the faint attempts to persuade himself that the tragic outcome was unavoidable, that everything he could possibly do was done.
''You really must have cared a lot for him...''
It's said with sympathy, not meaning to irritate, but Boyd's overtired brain interprets it as yet another attempt to question his love and dedication to his son.
''Of course I bloody cared for him! He was my only son! I would have given my life for him!'' he bellows, eyes burning with pain and anger, unaware of his fist lifting and crashing hard against the coffee table in futile despair.
Erin rockets up from the couch, genuine fear in her eyes.
Boyd fights hard to regain control, truly regretting his outburst. ''I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to... Don't be afraid, I would never hurt you... I warned you how tired and weary I was and asked you to leave me alone tonight, didn't I? Why didn't you listen?''
Erin keeps a safe distance and eyes him very suspiciously, ready to run at any possible sign of threat.
She seems to be dumbfounded by both his shocking revelations and recent fury. All the more surprising is her sudden tearful outburst.
''I wish Luke never took those stupid wretched drugs! Now I'll never get to meet my big brother!''
Everything is clear and simple suddenly. So perfectly crystal clear.
Brother and sister... Erin is Luke's little sister... his child the very same way...
This overwhelming comprehension takes time to sink in and Boyd's definitely not ready for the following.
''Would you have wanted me if I were a boy instead?''
He looks at her in utter confusion, in his current state of mind this question makes absolutely no sense.
''I just thought that you didn't want any kids at all. But you had Luke and you loved him so much... Because he was a boy and you just always wanted to have a son, right? That's why you were so disappointed to find out about me.''
It starts to dawn him what she has in mind. With a pang of guilt he has to admit having given his daughter more than enough reason to reach such conclusion.
He really hopes to sound convincing. ''Erin, dear, it's not like that, not like that at all... I'm so sorry I've left you such a wrong impression. I know I haven't been there for you, but it's all going to change now. I'll try my best to make it all up to you. From now on we're going to spend much more time together, I promise!''
Defiance is back in her voice.
''I don't want to! I don't want you to be with me just because you feel obligated to do that! You don't have to lie to me to make me feel better - I already know that Kelly and you both wish that I was never born at all! I was right behind the door when you said that, I heard everything!''
''Oh God, no...,'' aghast, Boyd momentarily closes his eyes. Having no idea how he could possibly undo such damage, he still hurtles to rescue.
''Darling, I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry that you had to hear all that. Please believe me... your mother and me, we were just having a stupid argument and were angry with each other and that made us say some very stupid and thoughtless things. You've got to believe me, sweetie, that's not the way we really feel about you, neither of us actually meant any of it...''
Little fists clench and teeth grasp the lower lip in strict determination not to waste a single tear on someone who's not worth it.
''Do you really think I didn't know it all before!? It's no secret Kelly never wanted me – that's why she doesn't want to be called 'mom', that's why she never was around when I was little... It didn't matter then, I had Granny - she was the best! We were so happy together, didn't need anyone else! When Granny had an heart-attack and was in the hospital, she made Kelly swear to take care of me after her death and now she's acting as if she was doing me some enormous favour. Well, guess what – I never asked to be born! And you...you don't want me either, all you want is to have Luke back. I should have died instead of Luke, so everybody would be happy!''
The brave battle with the tears is about to be lost, Erin turns around abruptly and flees upstairs, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her.
He storms after her, driven by desperate fear that if he can't sort it all out right away, he's going to loose this child even before really getting to know her.
A well-targeted pillow hits him the moment he opens the bedroom door.
''Go away! Leave me alone!''
Another pillow is launched at him, followed by a stack of magazines and some items of clothing. Then the available ammunition runs out and with that all the belligerence of the little girl seems to die away. She just bursts into tears, crouching on the bed like a little pile of misery.
The twist this sight causes in Boyd's heart is so raw and intense that all his apparently dead parental instincts are fully alert instantly. He buries the weeping child in his embrace, as if attempting to absorb all her pain and sorrow into himself. He must have got that right, for instead of pushing him away and struggling free Erin throws her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.
Holding his child for the first time 11 years too late doesn't belittle the overwhelming sensation that from this moment on his life has a whole new centre-point. It changes everything, it's just... too much to condense into words.
Before he can gather himself enough to say anything, a master-class of conveying everything necessary with just one right word is demonstrated.
''Daddy!''
His abrupt flinch is absolutely involuntary. This simple childish word evokes too many controversial memories. There are bitter-sweet ones from the long-forgotten good old times, when hearing this word in the very same bedroom was most natural thing, but there's also the haunting one of Luke calling him to bring him back to his senses in that derelict warehouse.
''You don't want me to call you 'Dad'? '' Erin suggests in quiet disappointment, her eyes clearly reflecting she didn't consider the possibility that both her dysfunctional parents might have the same issue.
It shouldn't be happening, with Luke gone nobody should have no reason, no right to call him that way any more...
Except for this little girl with tear-soaked cheeks and tousled hair.
''Darling, I want to be your dad more than anything else in the world!'' It's spontaneous and wholehearted and comes out easy. Some more things need to be said right here and now, disregarding that burning lump in his throat.
''Baby-girl, I love you more than anything else in the world! Promise me to always remember that! Whatever happens, nothing will ever change that! You mean everything to me and I will always love you and all I ever want is for you to be happy! Promise me not to forget that!''
A flicker of understanding shows in Erin's eyes. She even smiles fleetingly, glad to have figured out something important about her complicated and slightly intimidating father. A moment later she's completely serious, almost solemn and looks him deep in the eye.
''Daddy, I will never-ever run away from you! I promise! ''
Boyd opens his eyes. The gnawing pain in his back has become unbearable. No wonder, considering the way he has spent the night – sleeping in an uncomfortable position, clothes on, in a bed too short for him. One look at his still sleeping companion is enough to make all the discomfiture meaningless. He wants to get up quietly and arrange the curtains so the morning light won't disturb her, but his stiff limbs make him clumsy and Erin's eyes flicker open already. For a moment there's sleepy confusion on her face. The following smile overshadows the morning sun.
''Good morning, Daddy!'' Like the most natural thing in the world.
The very first morning of the rest of his life...
This rather lame cliché suddenly seems very appropriate to describe the whole situation.
''You've got to go to work already?'' Erin doesn't sound particularly happy over the prospect of another lonely day.
They pretty much closed the case last night, only the tedious paperwork left. For years he hasn't taken a single day off...
A firm decision starts to form in his mind.
''I have to make a call.''
Maybe he does sound a little hoarse due to last night's emotional roller-coaster. At least Spence instantly assumes he's ill. That wasn't Boyd's initial plan, but it is an easy one to play along. Spence seems to buy everything without reservations, eagerly promises to hold the fort and deal with the paperwork, even wishes him fast recovery, trying to sound suitably concerned, but still failing to completely hide the joy over a chance to be the one in judge while the boss is absent. That makes him smirk bitterly. But Boyd knows he can trust his DI. He gives a tormented cough and finishes the call with the sanctimonious declaration that he would have come to work despite of his illness unless it wasn't really inconsiderate of him to bring everybody germs.
He hears a snicker behind him and discovers that Erin has quietly returned from the bathroom and probably overheard most of the conversation.
''Don't you get any wise ideas to use these tactics to get a day off school, young lady!'' He tries his best to sound stern. Unsuccessfully. Erin's hilarious giggling is infectious and they end up laughing together. A far better option than the shared tears of last night.
''Enough of fun now,'' Boyd finally decides. ''Time to make ourselves something really good for breakfast and discuss the strategy how to make the most of what's left of your school holiday.''
The eager answering nod gives hope that the sulky girl of past few days is permanently replaced with a cheerful and cooperative one.