Of course, if it hadn’t been for Parker Miranda wouldn’t be here at all.
But now as she watched the young woman’s karate thrusts, she saw more than the rigid rule-follower she knew. She saw something she knew only too well.
Fear.
And after their ordeal together two weeks ago, she knew exactly why that feeling was there. Life could really throw you a curve at times. Never in her wildest imagination had Miranda ever thought she’d connect with Gen on that level.
She put a hand on her hip. “A little choppy, but a pretty good start.”
Gen’s dark eyes flared as she spun around. “Miranda. What are you doing here?”
“Work. What are you doing here?”
“The same,” she snipped.
Oh, yeah? It was really too soon for Gen to be back at work after what she’d been through but she probably needed to keep her mind busy.
“Training to be a detective?”
“Hardly. Just a little self-defense.” She took a step and did another straight punch into the air.
Yeah, Miranda had started out with a little self-defense. Just enough to feel confident no one would ever hurt her again. That had been almost fifteen years ago.
“That punch could be smoother.”
Gen’s shoulders tightened. “I’m working on it.”
“Let me help.”
Miranda kicked off her shoes and stepped into the ring. “First, your stance needs to be wider. Like this.” She spread her feet and bent her knees the way her first sensei had taught her years ago.
Rolling her eyes, Gen mimicked her position.
“Now loosen up.” She rolled her shoulders. “Relax.”
Reluctantly Gen did the same.
They went over some basic moves until Gen had a nice snap to her punch and her blocks were fast enough Miranda couldn’t get to her.
“Getting better.”
“Thanks. I think I’m done.”
Worked out the anxiety. For the afternoon at least.
Gen moved to a stack of fluffy clean towels on a shelf, patted the sweat off her face with one. “Are you really on a case?”
Miranda nodded. “Something came up early this morning. We brought in some of the others.”
“Yes, I saw Curt’s Mini Cooper in the lot earlier.”
She’d been here a while then. And Gen would know Holloway’s car from being his office manager, right?
“Where’s my father?”
“Out getting lunch. I just needed some time to myself.”
She nodded and gave her a fake smile as she headed for the shower room. “I don’t know how either of you do what you do.”
“Sometimes I don’t either.”
Suddenly Gen stopped. Slowly she turned back, her dark eyes more grave than Miranda could ever remember.
She licked her lips as if her throat were parched. “Does it ever…go away?”
Miranda knew exactly what she meant. The fear, the tension in your gut, the looking over your shoulder, that horrible sensation of total helplessness. Go away? She wished she could tell her yes.
“It gets better,” she said softly. “It takes a long time but it does get better.”
“But it never really goes away.”
“No. But this helps.” Miranda gestured toward the ring. “At least, it helps me.”
Gen nodded as if she understood something about Miranda she never had before.
Still, Miranda wasn’t sure the woman was grateful to her for saving her life or blamed the whole thing on her. Maybe it was her fault. The crazy psycho wouldn’t have gone after Gen if it weren’t for her. Maybe she had tainted Gen’s life the same way she had Mackenzie’s. But it was no good feeling sorry for herself. All she could do was deal with what had happened.
It was all any of them could do.
“I’m thinking about creating a dating policy for the office.” Gen had started for the showers again as if she expected Miranda to head there, too.
Miranda frowned as she caught up to her. “Dating policy?”
“I think we need one, don’t you? I mean, you and my father have started a trend. Sybil’s got her eye on Alex Witherby.”
“Don’t know him.”
“He’s one of the bodyguards.”
“Okay.” Miranda followed Gen into the shower area.
Gen headed past the shiny blue-and-white tiles toward the lockers. “And Jackie Foster and Dean Johnson are dating.”
Miranda didn’t know who those two were. “Is that a problem?”
“It could be.”
Yeah, a lot of folks around the office thought she was getting special treatment when she and Parker got together. Until she’d nearly gotten killed.
Gen opened a locker and began to pull off her gi. “I’m thinking the parties would have to work in different departments. Unless they were married.”
“And what if they weren’t? What if they weren’t married and were in the same department?”
“Then one of them would have to move to another part of the Agency or find another job.”
“Seems kind of harsh.” The divisions in the Parker Agency were pretty specialized. “What brought this on all of sudden?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” There was a funny twist to her mouth when she said that.
Wait a minute. “Are you thinking about dating someone at the Agency?”
Gen turned away and wrapped a towel around herself.
That was when Miranda remembered she’d noticed Holloway’s car in the parking lot. OMG. “Holloway? You and Holloway are dating?” Miranda thought he still had a thing for Wesson.
Gen spun around, her polished teeth bared. Suddenly they seemed like the sharp fangs of a wild animal. With her platinum hair, she reminded Miranda of a white tiger. One that was ready to pounce.
“We’ve only been out twice,” she snapped. “And it’s none of your business who I date, Miranda Steele. You certainly didn’t ask my permission when you started dating my father.”
She stomped into a stall and turned the water on full blast.
Touchy, Miranda thought feeling a little bewildered. This must be serious. The possibilities of what she could do with this information flitted through her mind.
As she went to her own locker for a shower and a change of clothes, she decided not to let Parker in on the secret yet. She’d keep this one in her hip pocket for now.
Might give her some leverage.
Chapter Fourteen
Miranda found Parker in his crystal blue office staring out the window with his jaw as tight as a hard fist. Once again she thought it odd to see him behind his desk in a polo shirt. Parker always wore suits to the office.
She smelled as well as saw a white bag sitting on the corner of the desk. He’d gotten her lunch, just as she thought he would.
She ignored it and sat in the guest chair. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to her, his gray eyes cold enough to frost her eyelashes. “I just got off the phone with Inspector Francine Whitman.”
“You got hold of her.”
“I did. She most definitely has not retired from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. And she’s never heard of Simon Sloan.”
Miranda sat back and let out a long breath. Her instincts had been right. “We shouldn’t have let that guy push us around this morning.”
“We had to assume he was legitimate. The Division Commander confirmed the request.”
Yeah, he did. She scratched at her hair. “So how did that call get to Sloan if he’s not with the GBI?”
“Good question.”
They pondered it for a moment with no result. Parker gestured toward the bag on the corner. “That’s for you, by the way.”
Suddenly hungry, Miranda reached for it. “Where’d you go?”
“I took Dave and Fry to Ay Chihuahua!”
She peeked inside the bag and broke into a grin. “Is that a Taco Loco?”
“It is.”
Carefully, she lifted out the Styrofoam container holding the delicacy. She opened it and took a sniff. Now her mouth was really watering. Okay, she had to admit she’d worked up an appetite in the gym, but how did Parker know she was going to be ravenous? He could really be clairvoyant about some things.
It had been ages since she’d had a Taco Loco. How had she lived without the huge soft taco? The spicy ground beef? The even spicier salsa heaped over a generous mound of jalapenos-laced cheese and topped with slices of serrano peppers?
As she lifted the container to her lips and took a big bite, she saw Parker wince.
“I still don’t understand how you can eat such fare.”
“Hmm.” She found a napkin and wiped her mouth as the heat sizzled over her taste buds. “It’s great.”
“It nearly singed my fingers through the bag.”
She smothered a laugh with the napkin.
“You should have seen the look on Fry’s face when I ordered it.”
She snickered through the next bite. “Maybe now I’ll get some respect.”
“If not, you can always challenge him to one of your pepper eating contests.”
“Good idea.” She reached for the soda that came with the food. “So how is Estavez’s mom?”
Parker had taken the restaurant owner’s gangbanger son under his wing when he was about to turn seventeen. He’d straightened him out and raised him as his own. And he’d grown up to become the top defense attorney, Antonio Estavez.
Parker seemed glad for a little small talk. “Carlota is doing well. In fact, she seemed very happy. Belita is in the second grade now, and Dulcea is a freshman at Georgia State.”
“You’re kidding. Already?”
“They grow up fast.”
They did. Mackenzie was almost fifteen. She’d be thinking about college soon. Miranda had missed all of her childhood and now she was missing her teen years, too.
“Antonio called me earlier, by the way,” Parker said. “He’d like us to stop by the house as soon as we’re able.”
“About what?”
“He didn’t say.” Parker fixed her with one of those piercing looks in his delicious gray eyes. “Do you want to move back into the Parker estate, Miranda?”
The bite she was swallowing caught in her throat.
She had lived in Parker’s family mansion the whole time she’d been married to him. But when they broke up, he’d turned it over to Estavez and Coco. She couldn’t blame him. He’d thought it was over. It nearly was.
“We can’t kick them out.”
“It wouldn’t be like that. Antonio would understand. And so would Coco.”
Coco, aka Cora Beth Hinsley had been a friend to Miranda for as long as she’d known Parker. Unlike Gen, Coco loved Miranda for saving her life. She’d do anything for her. Still, asking them to leave when they’d just moved in didn’t seem fair.
Parker got her on many levels. About food, about work, about her daughter. But he still didn’t get that where she lived wasn’t important to her.
She finished the taco and put the container back in the bag. “I couldn’t do that to them. I’m fine in the penthouse.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
Will do, she was about to say, when Parker’s phone rang. Voice call—he’d changed it back to a simple, high-pitched ringtone.
“Hello again, Inspector,” he answered, pressing the speaker button.
“Mr. Parker.” Inspector Francine Whitman’s gruff-but-feminine southern voice filled the room. “I received the photo you sent over to me.”
“Yes.” Parker pressed a button on his keyboard.
Miranda got up and came around the desk. On his screen was a digital version of the photo from June May’s bedroom. The one with her and Simon Sloan. Parker had been busy.
“I have Detective Steele on speaker, Inspector,” Parker said.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Steele,” she said. “Glad you’re on this.”
“Thanks.”
The Inspector cut straight to the chase. “I don’t recognize the man in the photograph. Plus I did a thorough search. No one named Simon Sloan pops in the personnel database.”
Parker’s face went hard. “I see.”
Miranda gritted her teeth. This guy had impersonated a GBI agent.
“I’ll keep my eye out, but right now there’s nothing I can tell you about this man.”
“I understand, Inspector. Thank you anyway.”
“You’re welcome.” And she hung up, making the call short and not-so-sweet.
Miranda stared over Parker’s shoulder at the good-looking man with the jet black hair. “Who is this guy?”
“He had some sort of relationship with the victim.”
That was for sure. He had his arm around her in a gesture of definite affection. Husband and wife? No, it wasn’t that kind of touch.
“Could they be sister and brother?” she wondered out loud.
“They do have similar coloring.”
“Yeah.”
“I took the liberty of sending this and the other two photos to your phone,” Parker said matter-of-factly. “You might want to forward them to your team.”
Her team, huh? Another authority-building exercise. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Uh huh.
She folded her arms and after staring at the mystery man on the screen for another minute turned away. “How are we going to find this imposter, Parker?”
He closed the file and tidied the few files on his desk. “First we’re going to talk to the senator.”
“You got us in to see him?”
“He’s a very busy man. In addition to being a state legislator, he’s the bond trading manager at Millennial Trust.”
One of the big downtown banks. Workaholic, Miranda decided.
“But he remembered me from Westminster.”
And from Parker’s general fame as the city’s top PI, she bet. “And so?”
“We’re seeing him and his wife at home this evening. Ostensibly it’s a social visit.”
Fast work. “You’ve been busy yourself.”
“Always. But before we go, we need to stop at home and change.”
“Good thinking.” She rose. “By the way, is it Senator Hughes or Senator Ward Hughes?”
“Senator Ward Hughes. His heritage gave him a double last name.”
“Classy.” Not the type ordinary folk could get in to see so easily.
The mention of his son would do that, though. But it would be better to get some information on the senator, assess his state of mind, before they brought up the missing boy.
As she headed out the door, she was grateful for Parker’s connections.
Chapter Fifteen
Before leaving the office they stopped by the lab to see how the boys were doing.
Becker was nearly falling asleep at his computer running the shoe-and-finger-prints for a match, but Fry had managed to isolate a second profile from June May’s fingernail. Maybe she’d managed to scratch whoever nabbed her. The sample was small, but Fry was running it through the analyzer anyway.
“Keep working on it. Both of you,” Miranda told them. “Oh, and I’ll be emailing you something shortly.” She turned and headed out with Parker.
Back in the car she fought with her phone, trying to figure out how to create an email group to send everyone those photos Parker had scanned. Since he’d complain either way, she decided to include Fry. He might be stuck back in the lab but you never knew who he might run into when he left the office. For all she knew the cynical technician could be leading some sort of secret life.
Traffic was heavy and it took forever to get back to the penthouse. So long, when they got there Miranda decided she needed another shower and climbed in with Parker.
He turned her around and began to wash her back. She closed her eyes and le
t the warm water run over her face. His touch felt so good. She had truly relished their time together the past two weeks.
“Guess our honeymoon is over,” she sighed.
“It will never be over.” And he nibbled at her neck, sending chills down her spine.
But as much as she longed to indulge in a long lovemaking session, they had work to do. A young boy was missing and they had to find him fast.
“We’d better get going.”
Parker murmured a consent and they finished their shower in record time.
From the huge walk-in closet that was as big as the one in the Parker estate, he chose an elegant suit of deep charcoal that gave his eyes the dark gleam of gunmetal. He paired it with a silk cobalt blue tie that just happened to match the classy business suit Miranda had picked out for herself.
Cell phone, shoes, and she was ready to go. So back out into the traffic they went.
Chapter Sixteen
Perry Ward Hughes’ house looked like a place where a Georgia State Senator would live.
A stately red brick mansion with white symmetrical Greek columns lining the front, two evenly balanced chimneys, and matching wings stretching on either side. An eagle poised to take flight into the stratosphere of political power, it made Parker’s huge family mansion look homespun.
It was in their old neighborhood. A four minute drive from the Parker estate and half that distance from where Mackenzie lived with her adopted parents, Colby and Oliver Chatham.
Nothing like keeping things neighborly.
Parker held the door for her and she got out of the car and strode up the red brick walkway to the majestic front door. He rang the bell and after a moment a gray-clad servant appeared and demurely led them through a white-tiled foyer with a winding white staircase and rows and rows of equally-sized avant-garde pictures on the curving walls.
She ushered them into a room that seemed to be designated for receiving guests.
It was paneled on the ceiling and all four walls in a caramel colored wood that gave the room an air of ostentation and warm-and-cozy at the same time. The space was furnished with soft gray barrel chairs, a matching sofa, and low lights glowing on a wall table. With the light coming in through the blinds they added to the cozy part of the ambiance. The air smelled faintly of lemon, as if the maid had just finished polishing the furniture.
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