His body lurched up.
They whizzed under the tunnel and the hard cold stone snapped DeBow’s head right off.
Blood spurted out of the neck and gushed over her chest, her hair, her face. The body collapsed on top of her, oozing its contents all over her.
Sputtering and spitting the foul taste of blood out of her mouth, she reached for the grab rail and held on for dear life.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Somehow Parker, along with Sloan, managed to get the train to stop. The bewildered conductor hadn’t had a clue there was a fight to the death going on just over his head until he saw blood splatter his windshield.
Someone lifted DeBow’s lifeless, headless body off her and got her down. She fell into Parker’s arms not caring that she was ruining his suit.
He didn’t care either.
“Miranda. Oh, my darling.” He kissed her hard and held her tight.
She pulled away and waved a hand back at the train. “Somebody get Holloway. He’s hurt.”
“We know. The paramedics are getting to him now.”
It wasn’t until then that she saw the ambulance and a woman and a man in white helping Holloway down from the top of the boxcar.
“We have to find Dylan.”
“He’s safe. Holloway got him out of the house before he came to find you. Wesson took him to the van. Dave’s been showing him the electronic equipment.”
That made her smile. Good ole Becker.
They’d saved him. She and Parker and her team. They’d found Dylan Ward Hughes and saved him from a fate worse than death.
And now it was time to get him back to his family.
###
They cleaned her up as best they could, then Miranda and Parker got in the Mazda and drove Dylan Ward Hughes back home.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” the boy said politely, his blue eyes shining from the back seat.
He wouldn’t always be smiling in the weeks to come, Miranda knew. He would need counseling. She was overdue for a session herself.
But at least for now he was happy.
Miranda turned around. “No problem, kid. Now go be with your family.”
He grinned wide, flung open the car door and ran with little boy strides straight into the arms of Rebecca and Perry who were waiting for him under the columns of their majestic home.
Miranda got out, closed the back door, and slid back in beside Parker. They didn’t go to the house. She was still too messy and they didn’t want to disturb the reunion.
Miranda watched Rebecca bend down and bury her face in her little boy’s neck, her cheeks streaming with tears. Perry was crying, too. As he picked up his son and turned to carry him into the house, he raised a hand toward the car and fixed her with his watery blue eyes.
“Thank you,” he mouthed, and they went inside.
“I don’t think Perry knows,” Parker said quietly.
She’d told him what DeBow had said about his heritage while she was getting cleaned up. Parker had spoken briefly to Perry on the phone but told him only enough to prepare him for the news coverage that was sure to come. He didn’t need to know more about what had happened to his son.
Not right now, anyway.
And neither did Erica King, whom Parker had also called to relay the same abbreviated message.
Was Parker right? Or was Eustace’s lineage another secret the Ward Hughes family had kept hidden from the world?
“Maybe not.” She sighed aloud, deciding they didn’t need to know. “I hope that family can heal now.”
“With enough love and trust they will.” Parker began to drive away.
Miranda leaned back in the passenger seat. Her lip throbbed, her arms and wrists were sore, she was going to have bruises on her throat, and her best suit was stained with blood. But Parker’s Mazda was so much more comfortable than the top of a train.
Love and trust. Sometimes, that was all it took.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The next afternoon Coco and Estavez held a small get together in the Parker mansion.
Mr. P, Parker’s father, was there, of course, along with his wife, Tatiana. Carlota, Estavez’ mother, stood next to her, chatting happily away. Fanuzzi and Becker were invited. Gen was there, too, and she’d brought Holloway along. Even Evelyn was there, but she kept to herself and didn’t say much.
Keeping her cover, Miranda supposed. But when she saw the elegant woman send Parker a knowing smile from the corner of the room, she knew she’d been told Dylan Ward Hughes was safe.
When everyone was gathered in the posh front drawing room with its rosy drapes and Versailles-style chairs, Estavez tapped a spoon to his glass to get everyone’s attention.
He and Coco made the announcement together, without the piano this time, telling everyone she was expecting a baby in about seven months.
In response, the room became filled with shouts of joy and surprise, and hugs and kisses and congratulations all around. Then came refreshments that included creamy un-spiked punch and little white cakes with both blue and pink frosting.
The new parents didn’t want to know whether it would be a boy or a girl before the child was born.
Miranda stood next to Parker on the sidelines drinking in the roomful of happiness. It was a welcome contrast to what they’d both been through.
“Sloan and his men took Tamarkin into FBI custody yesterday,” he told her quietly. “They’re hoping to get the names of some of DeBow’s customers.”
“I hope they can.”
From the photos she’d seen of the hardened Ukrainian Miranda wondered whether they’d get much out of him. And she was still amazed at how Parker had escaped from him. Not that she doubted he could. Parker had a way of pulling off miracles when they were needed.
“Word has gotten out about DeBow and his collection.”
“Oh?” Miranda’s punch cup stopped midway to her mouth.
Sloan had done a lot to tone down the reporters after the incident north of Dalton yesterday but some of the newshounds had slipped through anyway.
“It seems the model railroading community is in an uproar over what DeBow was involved in. Various groups are in a bidding war for his collection.”
Nice to hear. “Must be worth a lot.”
“A small fortune. But primarily they want to erase the stigma of its owner.”
“Good for them.” She hoped the trains would go to a much better home.
Parker sipped his cup and frowned, finding it too sweet. “I spoke to some of the leaders this morning, as well as Muriel Hanson from the fundraiser we attended. She’s arranging for some of the proceeds to go to autism research.”
All Miranda could do was smile at him. Leave it to Parker to find a way to make a rainbow out of such a tragedy.
Her heart swelled with love for him as she watched him scanning the faces of his family. His daughter, his father, his surrogate son and daughter-in-law.
The expression of joy on his face was priceless.
He leaned toward her. “I’ve been wondering.”
“What?”
“What would it be like to have a son?”
Her throat went suddenly dry. “You have a son. He’s standing right over there.”
“I do. Antonio has always been and always will be like a son to me. But what if I had one of my own? Of our own, Miranda.”
He turned to her with yearning in his deep gray eyes.
She didn’t know what to say to him. “You want to have a baby?”
He shrugged in his careless way. “It’s just an idea.”
“Sure.”
Before she could recover from what he’d just dropped on her, Holloway made his way over to them, walking with a wooden cane.
“How’s the leg?” Miranda asked, glad to change the subject.
“The doctor got the bullet out in one piece. It took out a chunk of meat but missed the bone. I should be good as new in a couple of weeks.”
“Take as much time off
as you need,” she told him.
He nodded.
Parker shook his hand. “You did a very brave thing going after DeBow, Detective.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Agreed,” Miranda said as sincerely as she could. “You did good.”
Holloway studied her a long while. “Thanks for saving my life, Steele.”
That was good to hear. “Thanks for saving mine.”
“Sorry I was such a pain in the ass.” And pushing his brown hair out of his face, he hobbled off to join Gen.
As she watched him walk away Miranda leaned over to Parker. “I wasn’t sure whether to give Holloway a medal or kick his ass for insubordination. But I guess I can forgive him now.”
Parker let out a low chuckle. “It’s difficult dealing with a talented detective with a mind of his—or her—own. Especially when personal feelings are involved.”
She opened her mouth wide and turned to him in shock. Was he talking about her? “Is that what this team lead thing is really about, Parker? Payback?”
His handsome smile broadened. “I assure you my intentions are completely innocent. I have no ulterior motives. However, the side effect is enjoyable to watch.”
Enjoyable, huh? She’d get him back for that.
“I do have a piece of advice for you.”
“What’s that?”
“You second guessed yourself about DeBow. You had a hunch and you doubted yourself and let your guard down.”
He was right. If she had acted on her first impression of the man she would have taken more precautions. And she never would have swallowed that lemon tea.
“So what’s your advice?”
“Never doubt your instincts. Not when they’re as sharp as yours.”
Her lips turned up in a grin. She couldn’t turn down a compliment like that. “I’ll remember that.”
Giving Parker a kiss on the cheek, she turned away and headed for the dining room.
###
She found Fanuzzi alone at the long table that was laden with the goodies the crowd was devouring.
“I really like this spice cake,” Fanuzzi said half to herself. “I’d ask Coco for the recipe but I’m pretty sure she got it at the grocery store.”
Miranda cleared her throat.
Fanuzzi looked up at her. “Oh, hi, Murray. Congrats on being—what? A grandmother?”
Miranda scowled. “I think Parker and I are going to call ourselves aunt and uncle.”
“Good thinking. It’s going to be fun.”
“It will be.” She watched her for a long moment, waiting. “And what about you?” she said when Fanuzzi avoided her gaze.
“What about me?”
Miranda moved close to the table and whispered. “Have you told Becker about you yet?”
She looked surprised at the comment then shook her head. “You’ve been keeping him too busy.”
“He’s been home all morning, hasn’t he?” She’d given the team a couple days off.
Fanuzzi started to reach for another piece of cake. “I don’t know, Murray. I just can’t—”
“C’mon.” Miranda took the plate away from her, reached for her friend’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen.
There was Becker in an apron doing dishes, just as she suspected he’d be. He really was the domestic type.
“What are you doing, Becker?” Miranda said. “You’re supposed to be a guest.”
“It was just a few plates. No need for a new mother-to-be to bother with them.” He wiped the last one, took off the apron and hung it over a chair.
“Fanuzzi has something to tell you.”
“Murray, what are you doing?”
“What you should.” She gave Fanuzzi a nudge. “Go ahead. I’ll just be over here on the deck.”
And she tiptoed to the back door. As she opened it and stepped out onto the cedar floor, she heard murmurs and then a shout from Becker.
“Wheeee!” he cried.
Slipping through the door she caught a glimpse of him spinning Fanuzzi around in his arms.
Chapter Sixty
Miranda stepped past the tiled table and the Adirondack chairs to lean over the deck’s railing and gaze out at the back yard.
The flower beds had been prepared for fall, the trees were beginning to show hints of color. She watched the willow branches sway lazily in the late afternoon breeze and listened to some squawking bird defending her nest.
How many hours had she spent on this deck with Parker?
They’d eaten here, fought here, made up here, danced here. She didn’t want to come back to the mansion. It belonged to Estavez and Coco now. And she didn’t usually feel nostalgic about the places she’d lived.
But this one got to her.
And now that they were somewhere else, Parker was thinking about having a kid with her.
Maybe if she hadn’t been such a total screw-up as a mother she’d consider it.
They had their life together. Her destiny was his. They shared that now. And they had their team, too.
She only hoped that would be enough for him.
A noise caught her attention.
She turned her head and saw movement in the bushes that divided the property from the neighbor’s yard. The hedges wiggled and suddenly a young girl emerged from the branches.
Her thick ebony hair was still long and hung down past her shoulders. She was dressed in red shorts and a blue knit shirt. School colors. She stared at her with eyes the same hue as her own and a soon-to-be-fifteen smirk of surprise.
“Mother.”
Miranda held her breath. She hadn’t seen Mackenzie for over two weeks now and suddenly she didn’t know how to act.
“Hi,” she said at last.
Mackenzie made her way across the lawn and climbed the stairs to the deck. “I saw the cars and came over to find out what was going on.”
“It’s a party. Coco and Estavez are expecting a baby.”
“Really? That’s…cool, I guess.”
“Guess it is.”
The girl joined her at the railing. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”
“I know. Been busy. A couple of big cases.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you and Mr. Parker are back together.”
“Me, too.”
Mackenzie looked a little pale. Miranda reached out and pushed a strand of dark hair away from her face.
Ignoring the gesture the girl stared out at the lawn, tapped her fingers on the cedar plank as if this conversation was already boring her to tears.
“So are you staying overnight with Wendy?”
She nodded.
“I’m glad you two are back together, too.”
She lifted an indifferent shoulder.
Miranda thought about giving her a talk about the importance of friendship then abandoned the idea. Who was she to lecture about that?
“Are you coaching Wendy for Regionals next year?”
“No, I dropped that. She got another coach.”
“How come?”
Another shoulder shrug. “Doesn’t interest me anymore.”
Miranda’s stomach tensed. The last time she’d heard from Wendy she was excited about Mackenzie coaching her for Regionals. Once upon a time ice skating had been Mackenzie’s whole life.
The girl turned to look at the door as if she might go in and say hello. Then she seemed to decide adult company wasn’t her cup of tea tonight.
“Well, I’d better get back. We’re popping popcorn and watching a movie.”
“Iris and Shelby out for the night?”
“Yeah, they’ll be home later.”
Oliver and Colby Chatham, Mackenzie’s adopted parents, had been keeping a tight rein on Mackenzie. Maybe they’d decided it was time to loosen up a bit. If Wendy’s parents went out for an evening and left the two girls at home by themselves it would be okay. Right?
The girl headed down the steps again.
“Mackenzie?”
“Ye
ah?”
“Parker and I are staying at his penthouse now.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Any time you want to drop by let me know.”
“Sure.”
Miranda pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up. “I’m always just a text away. Or even a phone call, if that’s not too radical.”
Mackenzie nodded. “Okay. See ya.”
“See ya.”
And she disappeared into the bushes.
Miranda put her hands to her face. Not interested in coaching ice skating anymore. The paleness of her skin. And most of all, the questions she didn’t ask. About finding her father.
She thought she could keep it a secret but her daughter was too smart for that. Those empty words of meaningless conversation couldn’t have been clearer. Somehow she’d found out.
Mackenzie knew who her real father was.
Miranda didn’t know how. Maybe she’d seen the news somewhere despite her parents’ vigilance. Maybe someone at school told her. All she knew was the worst had happened.
Miranda didn’t know exactly what this revelation would do to her daughter but she knew the coming days wouldn’t be pretty. And she was pushing her away.
She’d talk to Parker, to Oliver and Colby, to Dr. Wingate, her therapist. But in the end she knew all she’d be able to do for her daughter was be there.
If Mackenzie still wanted her.
Chapter Sixty-One
The limo made its way down the narrow drive and pulled along the side of the road.
It had been a long trip from the city. The endless miles through the mountains had annoyed him. As had the need for the trip.
He peered through the backseat window at the elaborate stone mansion. The organization’s money could provide a fine life style for a good worker. What a shame this one been stupid and ruined it all.
He slipped on his dark glasses and got out of the car without waiting for the driver to open the door. He adjusted the coat of his Armani suit and made his way past the curving stone fence, up the winding path and the brick steps.
At the door he used his passkey to enter.
He strolled across the marble floor in the foyer, his footsteps echoing into the emptiness. He took in the ancient Greece theme of the arches and the pottery, the medieval iron chandelier. Refined taste.
The Boy Page 23
