Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

something.”
    “Why can’t I tell the truth?” I sighed. “Maybe I can patch this up if I call and explain why Richard asked me—”
    “Em. Come on. You didn’t tell him Monday. You won’t tell him today. If he finds out this is about another kid, he’ll push you back into counseling.”
    She was right, and I didn’t like it. Bowman would hang my past over my head. After my family died, I’d swallowed a bottle of pills. Some mistakes follow us because we can’t forgive ourselves. Others linger because jerks like Bowman won’t let us forget.
    “Emily? You’ve thought of that, right?”
    In fact, I hadn’t.
    “Of course I have.”
    “Now you’re pissy.”
    “I’ve worked at BioTek for seven years. Four patents, and how many publications? I had one bad year. A long time ago, I might add…and he still treats me like a time bomb. I should quit.”
    “Please don’t do that. I couldn’t hack it without you.” She paused. “Say, did I mention your M&M bowl’s empty?”
    Her levity cheered me a little. She’d earned some chocolate.
    “Top left drawer.”
    “You’re awesome.”
    “I try.”
    “How’s Cole, anyway? Is it weird?”
    “Weird for me. Who knows what goes through his mind? Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning when he gave me a map and a car and basically said ‘see ya.’”
    “I don’t think it’s good for you to be around him. But, I admire your trying to find that kid.” She changed to an authoritative tone. “Purchasing said it’ll be here Friday.”
    “Gotcha,” I laughed. “I’ll call you at home later.”
    Busted again.

Chapter Eight
    No matter how much time passed, some people would always see me as the unstable, depressed woman I was after my family died. Sometimes, even years later, the ghost of that woman still rattled chains in my heart. It seemed Bowman heard them too.
    I hadn’t eaten yet, and needed to. I took my journal to the hotel restaurant and paged through it during breakfast.
    ***
    April 10—10:30 a.m.
    Conference, coffee break
    I skipped yesterday’s morning session to meet Keith and Nora at the airport for brunch. Nora could hardly look at me without bursting into tears and gushing thanks. Mattie sat through lunch, cute as a button, munching tater tots and smearing ketchup on his face. I have to wonder about that kid. Three weeks away from his parents and none the worse for wear.
    I said goodbye to them at the security checkpoint and called home to assess the damage. So far, it’s surprisingly minor. Jack’s biggest lapse has been sending a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich to daycare for Annette’s lunch.
    When the last session finished yesterday, I walked to the Cineplex and caught a movie. Some would say that’s a bad use of time in a new, exciting town, but to those people I say: you don’t have a toddler. It was great to see a movie on the big screen with a giant bag of overpriced popcorn. A DVD in our living room with a slightly burned bag of the microwave stuff isn’t the same. I hardly missed the company of unfolded laundry and an overflowing toy box at all.
    Tomorrow I’ll catch a 5:20 flight back to Cleveland. It would be so nice to walk into a clean home, but I’m afraid it will be a successful three days for Jack if our house is still standing and he brought the right child home from daycare.
    April 11—10:25 p.m.
    Home again
    This is funny. Jack thinks I’ll sleep with him. When I unpacked my underwear, he winked at me and told me I wouldn’t need them. A while ago he gave me a dopey grin and asked if I was “ready for bed.”
    Sure, after I pick up the living room. Pack a lunch for Annette. Move the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Put away bath toys. Pay the gas bill. And unload the dishwasher. All while he watches sports highlights on ESPN.
    It must be nice to live in a self-cleaning house, watch sports, and think you’ll get lucky at the next commercial break. I’m not sure if he’s expecting I-Missed-You sex or Thank-You sex. The Thank-You variety in these circumstances would seem unlikely, but he did keep Annette clothed and fed.
    It’s so wonderful to be home with her! I hugged her so hard tonight I thought I’d squish all the goo out of the poor kid. There’s no better feeling in the world than a hug from my baby!
    But the sex? Not happenin’. The only thing that could turn me on is the sight of Jack with a mop and a bottle of Mr. Clean.
    April 12 – 12:05 a.m.
    Home again II
    …or,