Faith and Fidelity Read Online Free Page A

good-byes and was gone quickly out the door, before anyone could protest too much.

    * * * *

    Matt caught more frowns and whispers going on at the table, especially from Helena who rubbed her forehead, pushing off questions from the other two detectives with a wave of her hand. He turned to Abe and Vic, who was watching with worried eyes of his own.
    “So what's the story?
    “On Evan? Wife died about ten months ago— car accident. Left him with four kids. It's just all... heartbreaking.” He shook his head.
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah. He's holding it together, at least on the surface. I been there myself ya know, and frankly, I don't think he's doing as well as he claims to be.”
    Matt grunted, looking down into his glass of beer.
    Maybe that was the connection then. You grieve with every fiber of your being when the thing you love most is ripped out of your life.

Chapter Two

    Matt Haight found himself at yet another bar on yet another Friday night. Beer, check. Slight buzz going, check. No female company in sight, check. Yep, good to go. He watched his reflection in the warped mirror behind the bar. Jesus he looked like shit. Starting to get that puffy look. Time to go on a diet, get back in the gym. Something. Anything.
    He needed to talk to someone, just to shoot the shit. Seeing his old friends a few weeks ago at Abe's made him wish he'd tried harder to stay in touch. He saw his ex-partner Phil O'Neill and his family on the holidays but that was it. He spent his time alone, in this bar (or one remarkably like it). He hadn't made a new friend in what... years? It was fucking depressing. He didn't know how to connect with anyone anymore— he was becoming a hermit. A drunk hermit. Matt started thinking about Abe's party and remembered the guy he'd met there. Evan Cerelli? The widower. Cop. Seemed nice. Vic Wolkowski and Abe both gave him high marks. Seemed like he would be cool to just hang out with.
    Matt took a deep breath. Resolve Matty, resolve. Get off yer ass and do something about your sorry state.
    Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly nine. Evan was home by now but Matt thought he might leave a message. Maybe they could hook up next week. He walked over to the doorway to give himself some privacy and flipped open his cell before he lost his nerve and dialed up Vice from memory (mind like a steel fucking trap). Asked for Evan Cerelli. Absently looked around the nearly empty bar, wondering what loser picked a dump like this to get drunk in. Then he heard a voice pick up on the other line.
    “Cerelli.”
    “Uh, hey. Evan. This is Matt Haight.”
    “Hey, Matt.”
    “Oh, you remember... ”
    “Well, yeah.” Evan laughed softly into the phone. “Mind like a steel trap.”
    Momentarily distracted, Matt tried to put his thoughts together. “Kind of surprised you're still at work... ”
    “My kids are at their grandparents’ for the weekend,” Evan said, and Matt could hear the distinct deadening of his voice. “I'm just catching up on some paperwork.”
    “Well then I'll let you go.”
    “Wait. Where are you?”
    And the lie came out without Matt even considering why he bothered. “Manhattan. You guys are on the West Side right?”
    “Yeah— you wanna come by? We could get that drink tonight.” A hollow laugh. “I could use it.”
    Amen, brother , thought Matt. “Give me an hour— I have, uh, an errand to take care of.”
    “Great. Come up to the third floor.”
    “I'll see you soon.” And he hung up the phone.
    He stared at the receiver for a long moment then walked back to the bar, threw down a twenty for his last three beers and a healthy tip, and headed out the door. He had an hour to get from Staten Island to Midtown. Drive or ferry? He decided on the ferry since he presumed he was legally drunk and crossed the street, heading for the station.
    See, that was easy , thought Matt. Things were already looking up.

    * * * *

    Evan hung up the phone and stared at the pin neat surface of his