Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [58]
“You never replaced it?”
“No. I think maybe subconsciously I realized all those things it was supposed to symbolize were gone long before it fell to the bottom of the river.”
“Uncle Nick,” Timmy interrupted, running into the room and jumping up into Nick’s arms, giving Nick little time to even turn around. Immediately, he felt the results of his chair nap. His back screamed at him to put the boy down, but he spiraled Timmy around, hugging him close while his little legs threatened to knock down the knickknacks scattered about.
“You guys!” Christine yelled from the doorway. Then to Maggie, “It’s like having two kids in the house.”
Nick set Timmy down and gritted his teeth into a smile as he straightened out and absorbed the pain that trailed all the way down his spine. Jesus, he hated these physical reminders that he was getting older.
“Maggie, this is my son, Timmy. Timmy, this is Special Agent Maggie O’Dell.”
“So you’re an FBI agent just like Agent Mulder and Agent Scully on The X-Files?”
“Except I don’t track aliens. Although some of the people I track down are pretty scary.”
Nick was always amazed at the effect children had on women. He wished he could bottle it. Maggie tucked her hair behind her ear, and she was smiling. Her eyes sparkled. Her entire face seemed to relax.
“I have some X-Files posters in my bedroom. Would you like to see them?”
“Timmy, we’re going to eat soon.”
“Do we have time?” Maggie asked Christine.
Timmy waited for his mom’s “sure.” Then he grabbed Maggie’s hand and led her down the hall.
Nick didn’t say anything until they were out of earshot. “It’s nice to see he’s learning from the master. Although I’ve never thought of using the old line, ‘would you like to see my X-Files posters.’”
Christine rolled her eyes and threw a dish towel at him. “Come help. Oh, and bring me a glass of wine, too.”
CHAPTER 30
Maggie hated to admit that she had never watched The X-Files. Her lifestyle allowed little time for television or movies. Timmy, however, seemed unconcerned. Once in his room, he anxiously showed off everything, from models of the Starship Enterprise to his collection of fossils. One, he said with certainty, was a dinosaur tooth.
The small room was wonderfully cluttered. A baseball mitt hung on the bedpost. A Jurassic Park bedspread covered lumps she guessed were matching pajamas. On a corner bookshelf, an old microscope propped up copies of King Arthur, Galaxy of the Stars and The Collector’s Encyclopedia of Baseball Cards. The walls were hidden, plastered with an odd assortment of posters including The X-Files, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, Star Trek, Jurassic Park and Batman. She took it all in, not as an observant FBI agent, but as a twelve-year-old robbed of this part of her childhood.
Then she remembered her conversation with Greg. The tension was hard to shrug off. He had now accused her of ignoring her own mother. She reminded him that she was the one with the degree in psychology. It didn’t matter. He was still angry with her for ruining their anniversary and carried that anger like some trophy he had won that he deserved. How did they ever get to this point?
Timmy grabbed her hand again and led her to the dresser. He pointed to the empty hull of a horseshoe crab.
“My grandpa brought this home for me from Florida. He and Grandma travel a lot. You can touch it if you want.”
She ran her finger over the smooth shell. She noticed a photo behind the crab. About two dozen boys in matching T-shirts and shorts lined the inside of a canoe and the dock behind it. She recognized the boy at the front of the canoe and leaned in for a closer view. Her pulse quickened. She lifted the photo, careful not to disturb the crab. The boy was Danny Alverez.
“What’s this photo, Timmy?