His father sipped his drink. “And the investigation?”
Michael’s sisters remained strangely quiet in the background, watching the exchange.
“Nothing new.” Michael threw the tomatoes into the salad and tossed it.
His father’s warm hand landed softly on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to?—”
Michael spun around to face his father. “I’m not going to stop. Don’t ask.”
Sadness in the older man’s gaze brought an uncomfortable pressure to Michael’s chest.
“I don’t want to lose you too, son. At some point we need to move on. She wouldn’t want this.”
“She wouldn’t want a murderer running loose in our city either. Mom was the most relentless cop there was.”
It was their typical argument. Neither wanted to back down. But Michael couldn’t go on pretending everything was okay. Nothing was okay with the way his mother had died. Why couldn’t the others see that?
“Everything’s ready to eat. I’ll call the boys and Frankie in.” There she went again—Kate, always trying to keep the peace. She left the kitchen calling out “Dinner!”
“Where’s Maria?” their father asked.
“Had to work late. She’ll be here soon, hopefully. She said she might have a plus-one tonight.” Eliza finished cutting the pizzas and carried one to the adjoining dining room.
While the teens all rushed in for the food, his father greeted them all by name and hugged Frankie.
Michael stepped back, wishing once again for his mother’s presence. She would’ve understood his drive. The necessity of what he was doing. He was acutely aware that nothing would bring her back from the dead. But he could find her killer and bring him or her to justice. That much he would do.
While their guests sat down and piled up plates at the table, Eliza set out salad dressing. Kate, still in the kitchen, slapped Raphael’s hands away from the zucchini brownies she’d whipped up, now cooling on the counter. “Grab drinks for your friends, Raph.”
It was a comfortable chaos, except for the gaping hole at the open end of the table. Michael lingered on the memories of Mom sitting there, laughing, scolding, listening, directing the flow of food and reminding them all of their manners.
The sound of a car pulling into the garage intruded on the memories. Maria must be home. Michael checked his watch. This was late for her. Her social-work job didn’t typically require late hours. Maybe this plus-one had something to do with it.
The door to the garage opened, and Maria, the only one to get Mom’s curly hair, walked in holding a little boy on her hip.
The boy from the convenience store.
His big eyes widened as he witnessed the noise and activity of a kitchen full of people.
“Hey, hey, settle down you guys. You’re gonna scare Maria’s guest.” Pop’s voice carried over all the noise and immediately settled everyone down. They all looked to Maria.
“Everyone, this is Eduardo. He likes to be called Eddie. He’s going to stay here with us tonight while his father is being helped in the hospital, right?” She smiled down at the boy.
But he just buried his head in her neck and held her tighter.
“Oh, the poor thing. Let’s get him some pizza.” Kate, channeling their nonna’s generosity, got a plate ready and tried to tempt the boy to eat. Once the others cleared out of the kitchen and settled around the huge table in the next room, Michael approached Maria and the boy.
“Rough day, huh?”
The boy peeked at Michael but still held tight to Maria.
“You could say that.” Maria sounded tired.
“I met Eddie last night. I’m glad you got his case. So, no open foster homes?” Michael asked her.
“I’ve got an emergency placement for him, but the family is out of town tonight. They’ll take him tomorrow.”
“How long will it be?”
