“How did you know?” Dallas asked.
“I figured he would. Anything on this end?” Tyler asked, eager to go see Zoe.
“Nothing, but Austin put the Drake case to bed. Finally got an image of the husband taking his assistant to the hotel.”
“But isn’t the assistant—?”
“A guy? Yup. Guess Mrs. Drake was wrong about him being a no-good womanizer.”
Tyler looked down the hall toward the apartment. “I’m going to—”
“Yeah, go to your girl. She might need your help.”
Tyler turned back. “Help with what?”
“All I can say is if we don’t make it in the PI business, we can always open up a day care.”
Tyler took off to see what the hell Dallas was talking about.
Zoe sat on the sofa and looked up when Tyler walked in. “Hey,” she said.
She had a baby carrier on the sofa beside her.
Suddenly, Anna came marching from the kitchen with Lucky in her arms.
“Hi, Tio. Did you know that Zoe’s cat only has one eye and three feet?”
“Yeah, I did.” Tyler looked at Zoe in puzzlement. “Where’s Sam?”
“She didn’t really tell me where she was going. Just that she really needed to be somewhere and wanted you to watch the kids.”
“She went to see Leo,” Anna said.
“Shit!” Tyler exclaimed.
“Tyler!” Zoe shook her head.
Anna giggled. “Oh, Mama will get mad at you for saying the S word!”
Tyler sat down beside Zoe, on the other side of his nephew. “How did this happen?”
Zoe frowned. “She looked desperate.”
Tyler grabbed his phone and dialed Sam’s number. It went to voice mail.
“Did you find out anything?” she asked, trying to distract him.
“Not about the Bradfords, but I did come across something.” He glanced at Anna. “Can it wait?”
Zoe nodded.
Thirty minutes later, he was pacing in the kitchen with a screaming baby in his arms while Zoe heated up a bottle. She looked up at him and smiled. “Nothing is sexier than a man holding a baby.”
He growled. “Don’t mention sex to me right now. I had a completely different plan for this evening.”
She moved in and kissed him. When the kiss ended, he juggled the baby to one arm and dialed Sam again. Still no answer.
“You worried?” Zoe asked.
“I always worry.” His sister never thought things out. For just a second, he remembered thinking he’d been doing the same thing with Zoe. But the difference was, Zoe was leaving and all of it would come to an end. As bad as it hurt to think about it, it gave him some reprieve from beating himself up for what he was feeling.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was wrong to offer—”
“It’s not your fault,” he told her, talking over the sound of the baby’s screams. He remembered all the things he needed to tell her about her case. He looked out to make sure Anna was watching the television.
She put a top on the baby bottle and handed it to him. He stuck the bottle in the kid’s mouth, and the baby quieted down. “Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, and then sat at the tiny two-seat table in the corner of the kitchen to feed the child.
She moved in close. “What did you find out?”
He sighed, not sure if now was the right time to talk about it.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
But damn, he wouldn’t want to wait, either. “We think we know the real identity of the kid they passed off as Caroline Bradford.”
“Who?”
He read the ambivalence in her eyes. She needed to know, but didn’t want to know.
“It was someone who had died in a car crash.”
“But how…?”
“Ralph Adams worked at his father’s funeral home. That’s why he went to get his cosmetology license.”
“Why would he steal the child’s body?”
“We don’t know. But we’re going to find out.”
She bit down on her lip. And if he didn’t have Leo Junior in his hands he’d have reached for her to hold her. She looked up. “How did you find this out?”
“I spoke with a town historian over at Shadows County, where I learned about the funeral home. Then I did a search to see if there were any deceased kids around the time you were kidnapped. Plus, Tony finally got his hands on the Bradford case file. The pieces fit.”
“What else did the case file give you? Did they ever suspect Mr. Bradford of doing this? Or his daughter?”
“No. They were looking at one of the lawn people, but they could never get any proof.”
She nodded.
He had to ask. “Do you remember anything about… being abducted?”
“No. All I remember is the closet. That’s it. I swear.”
He debated telling her the other thing; he wasn’t sure why, but he suspected it would upset her.
“Why?” she asked as if she could read his mind.
“The day you went missing they found a clown mask in the adjacent property.”
He saw the pain flash in her eyes.
“I should have guessed, huh?” Her voice was laced with pain.
“No.” He stood up, with the baby still sucking on the bottle, and pressed a kiss on her brow. “It’s going to be okay.”
Then he told himself the same thing. Because like it or not, he had a feeling of impending doom. And it wasn’t just about the case, or about Sam. It was about… Zoe and the fact that he’d lost his ability to think logically anymore.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Rick said, helping Ellen load the dishes, but he was so friggin’ glad she had. He wondered if she knew how much it meant to him. He wondered if she minded if they made this a regular gig. Once, twice, hell, maybe seven times a week. But damn, he liked being with her. There was something… easy about her. No big fuss. He liked the way she did things. From how she prepared a meal to the way she decorated her place. She kept things mostly simple. He could really use some simple in his life, too.
When he’d picked up Ricky this morning, she had asked if they wanted to come over for dinner.
“Ricky asked to meet Britney,” Ellen said.
“I could tell he was excited to come.” Rick leaned over the sink to see Ricky and Britney playing outside. He felt Ellen lean in beside him.
Ricky, running after a ball, fell. “Ouch! You sure we shouldn’t be out there?”
She laughed. “You are acting like a brand-new parent.”
“I am a brand-new parent. Much to my shame.”
She went to the table to get the dirty glasses. “So how was he this afternoon?”
Rick frowned. “He finally spoke to me, I think it was six, no seven words.”
“It’ll get easier,” she said. “He’s scared right now.”
Rick peered out the window again, and he saw Ricky look at him and frown. “He’s scared of me, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
His gut clenched. “What do I do?”
“You be patient. You love him. He’ll learn.”
He looked back outside. “Shit! Where are they?”
The back door opened, and the two kids walked inside.
He heard Ellen chuckle, and she leaned in. “You need to relax.” She looked back at the kids. “Do you guys want some ice cream?”
That got two loud yeses. So ice cream was okay; Rick stored that away in his mind. So were hamburgers, fries, and carrot sticks. He had a lot to learn, and he planned to be an A plus student.
In a few minutes, Britney and Ricky had left to play in the other room. “You want a beer?” She started for the fridge.
“I would love one.” His gaze shifted to the soft sway of her backside. And he reprimanded himself.
“You make it look easy.” There it was, that word again—easy. He sat on the edge of the sofa.
She came back and handed him a beer and then settled down beside hi
m. Not close, but close enough he could swear he could smell her skin, and it did crazy things to his libido.
Her phone on the coffee table rang. She picked it up, checked the number, and then set it back down. A tight frown appeared in her eyes. That was the fifth time she’d done that tonight.
“If you need to get that,” he said. “I…”
“No.”
The next second, it was his phone that rang. He pulled it out of his jeans. He looked at Ellen. “It’s Candy. I should…” He stood up and walked into the kitchen. He didn’t fancy talking to her, but he knew, sooner or later, they would have to discuss Ricky and the papers she would need to sign. Plus she might be concerned. At least, he damn well hoped she would.
“Hello, Candy,” he said, trying hard to keep the anger from his tone.
“Hi, Rick,” she said. “Look, I know you’ve helped me out a lot, but Ricky’s sick and I need to take him to the doctor.”
Fury burned in his gut. “Really, Candy? Ricky’s sick?”
“Yes. I’m sure it’s not anything serious, but it could be. I need a couple hundred.”
“You really are one piece of low-life shit!”
“You won’t even pay for your son to go to the doctor, and you call me a piece of shit?”
“Ricky’s not sick, Candy, and do you want to know how I know it? Because he’s with me.”
“What did you do?” she asked. “He’s supposed to be with my mom.”
“Yeah, well, your mom doesn’t want him. And from what your mom said, neither do you.”
“That’s enough!” Ellen snapped from behind him, and she yanked the phone from his hands, jabbing buttons.
“What?” he growled at Ellen.
She motioned to the door behind her and frowned.
Ricky stood there, staring up at him.
“Fuck!” Then he almost said it again before he realized what he’d done.
“Britney, why don’t you and Ricky go back to your room,” Ellen said.
Britney reached out and took Ricky by his hand. “Come on. I think your daddy is in trouble.”
Ellen handed Rick his phone back, but he could tell from the fire shooting at him from her blue eyes that she wasn’t finished with him. Britney was right. He was in trouble.
“She tried to tell me Ricky was sick so I would send her some money. She doesn’t even know Ricky’s with me.”
Ellen scowled at him. “It doesn’t matter. Rule number one is that you don’t talk bad about his mother, or to his mother, in front of him.”
Rick raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know he was there.”
“You always assume they are,” she scolded again. “And frankly, you don’t talk to anyone like that in front of him. Do you want him to grow up and talk to people like that? Is that what you want to teach your son?”
His fury at Candy and maybe at himself bellowed up again. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through.”
“Please.” She looked back as if to make sure the kids weren’t there and lowered her voice. “I don’t care how bad Candy is. The asshole I have to put up with certainly isn’t a bed of roses. But I do it, Rick. I suck it up, and I do it for my daughter.”
He stood there and let her words roll over him as he pushed his own issues aside. “What does he do?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” he said. “Is that why you don’t want to have anything to do with me? Because you’re afraid of him?”
“I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Really? So you can point out my mistakes, and tell me how I’m screwing up, but no one can tell you.”
“I’m not screwing up.”
“You are if you’re letting some asshole control your life. Is that the reason you aren’t dating anyone? Because he has you under his thumb?”
“This isn’t any of your business. And for the record, you asked me for help. I didn’t ask you.”
“Well, excuse me for caring.”
He stood there looking at her and suddenly realized he’d probably screwed things up with the one person who would help him with Ricky. And yet, his gut told him he was right.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “And you are correct, I did ask you for help and you didn’t ask me. But I’m going to say one more thing, and then I’ll get Ricky and leave because I know I’ve outworn my welcome. And just in case you miss it, it’s the same message that you just told me, and you were right.” He paused. “Do you want Britney to grow up and let people treat her the way you’re letting her father treat you? Is that what you want to teach your daughter?”
He saw her spine stiffen. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m sure I don’t. But I think you just told me it didn’t matter.” He started out, and then he turned around. “Again, I’m sorry that I got upset and upset Britney and Ricky. And if you don’t want to ever do this again, I’ll accept it. I hope like hell that’s not the case, because… as you can see, and as you pointed out, I need a lot of help. And maybe, just maybe, if you’d give me a chance, we might be able to help each other.”
He started off and then turned back around again. “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t think you’re a good parent. You’re awesome. And I want to learn from you. You’ve already helped me more than I would have imagined possible.” He paused to see if maybe she might say something. But she didn’t. Great. He’d really messed up this time.
He turned and took two steps out of the kitchen, his chest heavy. Then he swung back around. “I didn’t say all this to get you to date me. I’m completely fine with just being friends.”
He took one step back. “I’m leaving now.”
This time he got halfway across the living room before turning and going back into the kitchen. “And while I’m fine with being your friend, it won’t be easy. The kiss you gave me was amazing.” He paused. “I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t attracted to you. I am. I’m just saying that if friendship is all you want, then—”
She finally held up her hand, and she walked toward him. He didn’t know if it was to slap him. He deserved it, so he stood there willing to take it.
Instead, she got within a foot of him and stopped. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Not when I feel like I screwed up and this might be my last chance to make it right. Am I forgiven?” His chest hurt.
She nodded. “Yes, you are forgiven.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
She stepped closer. Her blue gaze locked with his.
He swallowed. “Your eyes are telling me to kiss you again like when we were at the restaurant. Do you still want me to tell you to go to hell?”
She laughed.
“Are you finished fighting?” Britney asked from behind them.
“Yes, we are,” Ellen said.
“But I need to apologize,” Rick said. “I was upset at Ricky’s mother and said things I shouldn’t have. It was bad of me, and Ellen was right to correct me. I’m really sorry, son.” He watched Ricky’s face, not sure he was old enough to understand an apology.
Britney smiled. “She’s almost always right.”
“I’ll bet she is.” Rick grinned, even though he noted that Ricky wasn’t smiling, and he could kick himself for making things even harder for him. He’d done the same damn thing to Ricky that his grandmother had done, and he’d wanted to shoot her. Now he was the one who deserved to be shot.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“A MR. JOHN PHILLIPS is here,” Ellen announced on the phone’s intercom the next morning.
“Send him back,” Dallas answered, touching a button.
Tyler was just finishing his fifth cup of coffee. For the second night in a row, he had gotten maybe thirty minutes of sleep. His mind chewed on problems—Zoe Adams leaving, finding the lowlife who kidnapped her and tried to shoot her, Sam and her relentless need to make things right with Leo. His twin had gotten back about seven last light, teary-eyed, saying Leo sti
ll refused to see a counselor.
This kind of obsessive worrying wasn’t like Tyler. He normally approached his problems with logic. He threw enough questions at a problem until he found a resolution and then set out to fix it. And yeah, he’d tried doing the same with these issues, but he couldn’t find a resolution.
Not that all he’d done was obsess. When he wasn’t chewing on problems, he was having sex. Or he was contemplating the sex. Good sex. A lot of it. The massage idea was a hit. A big one. The memory wiggled through his mind like a breath of fresh air, and his chest expanded with a feeling he could only define as… happiness. Because he hadn’t felt it in so damn long, he realized his family had been right all along. He’d been one damn sad clown lately.
Problem was, the thing that was making him happy was about to leave.
His phone dinged with an incoming text. He picked it up and looked at the sender. Zoe. He read the message. Miss you.
Footsteps moving toward the office brought Tyler’s head up.
“Have a seat,” Tyler said when John Phillips walked in, carrying a briefcase. He wasn’t as old as Tyler thought he’d be. Maybe sixty.
“Something funny?” the old man asked.
“No, why?” Tyler asked.
“You got this big grin on your face.”
Tyler heard Austin and Dallas cough, covering up their laughter. Was that what he was doing all the time? And how they knew…?
“Just in a good mood,” Tyler said.
“Got lucky last night, did you?” Phillips asked.
This time Dallas and Austin didn’t even try to hide their laughter. Tyler grinned.
A few minutes later, when Tyler asked him about the case, all traces of humor had faded from his eyes.
“I guess we all have them, don’t we?”
“Have what?” Tyler asked.
“Cases that haunt us.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said, and he knew that Zoe’s case would be one of his. Not because he wouldn’t solve it but because solving it meant losing her. But damn, that thought hurt.
“About every six months or so,” Phillips motioned to his briefcase, “I’ll go through my notes, thinking I’ll see something I missed.”
Blame It on Texas Page 30
