Aurora 06 - A Fool And His Honey by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online

mentioned the soggy note under the windshield wiper to one of the officers who passed back and forth in a steady stream, he said it had disintegrated when they’d tried to extricate it.
    Gradually all the men and women left, and all the cars reversed, and I understood that the body had been removed and the last question had been asked. At least for tonight. I looked up at the clock. It was midnight, only two and a half hours since we’d left the Lowrys’ house. Hayden had at last gone to sleep, and I’d put him in the infant seat, grateful for the chance to rest my arms, which were definitely worn out from the unaccustomed burden.
    I put my head down on the table. I must have dozed. When I looked at the clock again, it read twelve-thirty. Martin was standing by the table, looking at me.
    “Let’s go to bed,” he said, his voice empty.
    “We have to get the portable crib for the baby,” I pointed out, trying to sound practical rather than aggrieved.

    He stared at Hayden almost in astonishment, as if he’d assumed the police had taken the baby with them, too.
    “Oh my God,” he said wearily.
    I bit my tongue to keep from speaking.
    After what I considered more than enough time for him to volunteer, I said in a tight voice,
    “If you’ll keep an eye on him, I’ll go get it.”
    “Okay,” said Martin, to my complete amazement. He sat in another chair and propped his chin on his hand, looking at the baby’s face as if he’d never seen one.
    Gritting my teeth and simply ducking under the crime scene tape, I went up those apartment stairs once more, maneuvering carefully around the bloodstains and wondering who the hell would clean them up. Probably me, I figured. I was building up a good head of grievance.
    It was a shock to see how messy the apartment was. Of course, they’d searched for evidence about the crime and Regina’s whereabouts. I don’t know why I’d assumed they’d leave it neat. I shook my head in disgust with my own naiveté and snatched up a flattened contraption I assumed was the portable crib. There were assembly directions on a white rectangle attached to the pastel bumper sort of thing. I was pathetically grateful.
    I was so scared I wouldn’t hear the baby if he woke in the night that I laboriously assembled the crib right by our bed. Martin didn’t comment. At least he carried the diaper bag up after me, and at least I managed to lay Hayden down without waking him. I perceived Hayden as a baby—
    instead of a massive problem—for one moment, before exhaustion took over; for that moment, I saw the smooth pale skin, the tiny fingers, the sweet crease of the neck, and it took my breath away.
    Then he was once more a terrifyingly fragile being who was (it seemed) my sole responsibility, and I was totally ignorant of how to take care of him. I sighed, pulled off my clothes, and tossed them into the wicker basket in the bathroom. I pulled on my blue nightgown, brushed my teeth, and sank into bed. I registered that Martin was turning out the light before I retreated into sleep.

    “Was it our hatchet?” Martin was asking me.
    “Uhmm?”
    “Roe, was that our hatchet?”
    I considered, my head still pillowed on my arms. I felt warm and comfortable, but as soon as I really woke, misery was just waiting to pounce.
    I rolled over, snuggled up to my husband.
    “I don’t know,” I said against his chest. Martin sleeps in pajama bottoms only.
    He put his arm around me absently, his chin gently rubbing the top of my head. “I hope it wasn’t,” was all he said.
    “She didn’t do it.”

    “Why do you think that?” He didn’t sound upset, just curious.
    “She wouldn’t leave her baby, right? And she wouldn’t leave all her stuff, either,” I said more firmly.
    “But her car is gone, not the one Craig came in.”
    “That was Craig’s car?” Martin didn’t bother answering: Of course, Craig had gotten here somehow; he hadn’t dropped from the sky.
    Not that the scenario was