The Dark Tide. Andrew Gross

their daddies.” Karen shook her head and grinned. “Anyway, it’s sort of like a bell curve. At some point they come all the way back. At least that’s what I’m told. I’m still waiting.”

      They stood around for a minute, bucking the flow of the crowd. A heavyset guy in a Greenwich sweatshirt slapped Hauck on the shoulder as he went by. “Hey, Leg …”

      “Rollie.” The lieutenant waved back.

      “I was just headed to get some coffee,” Karen said.

      “Let me,” Hauck offered. “Trust me, you won’t be able to beat the price.”

      They stepped over to the refreshment line. A woman who was running the coffee station seemed to recognize him. “Hey, Ty! How’s it going, Lieutenant? Looks like we could use you out there today.”

      “Yeah, just gimme about twenty of these straight up plus a shot of cortisone in both knees and you can put me in.” He pulled out a couple of bills.

      “On the house, Lieutenant.” She waved him away. “Booster program.”

      “Thanks, Mary.” Hauck winked back. He handed a cup to Karen. There was a table free, and Hauck motioned her toward it and they each grabbed a metal chair.

      “See what I mean?” He took a sip. “One of the few legal perks I have left.”

      “Rank has its privilege.” Karen winked, pretending to be impressed.

      “Nah.” Hauck shrugged. “Tailback. Greenwich High, 1975. Went all the way to the state finals that year. They never forget.”

      Karen grinned. She brushed her hair back from under her hooded Greenwich High sweatshirt and cupped her hands on the steaming cup.

      “So how are you doing?” the detective asked. “I actually meant to call a couple of times. When I last saw you, things were pretty raw.”

      “I know.” Karen shrugged again. “They were then. I’m doing better. Time …” She sighed, tilting her cup.

      “As they say …” The lieutenant did the same and smiled. “So you have kids in the high school?”

      “Two. Samantha’s graduating this year. Alex is a sophomore. He plays lacrosse. He’s still taking things pretty hard.”

      “’Course he is,” the lieutenant said. Someone brushed him in the back, rushing by. He nodded, pressing his lips together. What could you say?

      “You were looking into a hit-and-run then,” Karen said, shifting gears. “Some kid out of Florida. You ever find that guy?”

      “No. But I did find out why your husband’s name was in his pocket.”

      He told Karen about the Mustang.

      “‘Charlie’s Baby.’” She nodded and smiled. “Figures. Still have it. Charlie asked in his will not to sell it. How about it, Lieutenant? You want your own American icon, only year they made the color Emberglow. Only costs about eight grand a year to take it out of the garage a couple of times?”

      “Sorry. I have my own American icon. College account.” He grinned.

      The PA announced that the teams were heading back on the field. The Huskies band marched off to a brassy version of Bon Jovi’s “Who Says You Can’t Go Home?” The lieutenant’s daughter ran out of the crowd and yelled, “Daddy, come on! I want to sit with Elyse!”

      “Second half’s starting up,” the lieutenant said.

      “She’s pretty,” Karen said. “Oldest?”

      “My only,” the detective replied after a short pause. “Thanks.”

      Their eyes met for a second. There was something Karen felt hiding behind his deep-set eyes.

      “So how about a raffle ticket?” she asked. “It’s for a good cause. Booster program.” She chuckled. “C’mon, I’m running behind.”

      “I’m afraid I already paid my dues.” Hauck sighed resignedly, patting his knees.

      She tore one off the pad and penciled his name in the blank. “It’s on the house. You know, it was nice what you said to me that day. About how you knew how I felt. I guess I needed something then. I appreciated that.”

      “Man …” Hauck shook his head, taking the raffle slip out of her hand, their fingers momentarily touching. “The gifts just don’t stop coming today.”

      “Price you have to pay for doing a good deed, Lieutenant.”

      They stood up. The lieutenant’s daughter called out impatiently, “Daddy, c’mon!”

      “Good luck with the raffles,” he said. “You know, it might be good if you actually ended up selling a few of them today.”

      Karen laughed. “Nice to see you, Lieutenant.” She shook her fists like imaginary pom-poms. “Go Huskies!”

      Hauck waved, backing into the crowd. “See you around.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      It took him by surprise that night, Hauck decided as he dabbed at the canvas in the small two-bedroom home he rented on Euclid Avenue in Stamford, overlooking Holly Cove.

      Another marina scene. A sloop in a harbor, sails down. Pretty much the same scene from his deck. It was all he ever painted. Boats …

      Jessie was in her room, watching TV, sending text messages. They’d had a pizza at Mona Lisa in town and went to the new animated release. Jess pretended to be bored. He’d enjoyed it.

      “It’s for, like, three-year-olds, Daddy.” She rolled her eyes.

      “Oh.” He stopped pushing it. “The penguins were cool.”

      Hauck liked it here. A block from the small cove. His little two-story sixties Cape. The owner had fixed it up. From the deck off the second floor, where the living room was, you could see Long Island Sound. A French couple lived next door, Richard and Jacqueline, custom furniture restorers—their workshop was out in their garage—and they always invited him to their parties, full of lots of people with crazy accents and not-half-bad wine.

      Yes, it took him by surprise. What he was feeling. How he had noticed her eyes—brown and fetchingly wide. How laughter seemed a natural fit in them. The little lilt in her voice, as if she weren’t from around here. Her auburn hair tied back in a youthful ponytail.

      How she stuffed that raffle ticket into his pocket and tried to make him smile.

      Unlike Beth. When her world fell apart.

      Hauck traced a narrow line from the sailboat’s mast and blended it into the blue of the sea. He stared. It sucked.

      No one would exactly confuse him with Picasso.

      She had asked him if Jess was his youngest, and he had replied, pausing for what seemed an eternity—my only. He could have told her. She would have understood. She was going through it, too.

       C’mon, Ty, why does it always have to come back to this?

      They’d had everything then. He and Beth. It was hard to remember how they were once so in love. How she once thought he was the sexiest man alive. And he, her.

       My only …

      What had he forgotten at the store that made him rush back in? Pudding Snacks….

      Jamming the van hastily into park. How many times had he done that—and it stayed? A thousand? A hundred thousand?

      “Watch out, guys. Daddy’s got to back out of the garage….”

      As he headed back