by Lois Richer
“You mean…me?” Chloe blinked. “She thinks we’re—Oh, my.” She bit her lip to stop the laughter, sensing that Brendan wouldn’t see the humor.
“Stay here,” he ordered, then turned to discuss their return home with the other agents.
Chloe watched Kyle and Madison climb into the other vehicle and started to follow them until Brendan’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“You’re with me.”
“Okay.” She got inside, fastened her seat belt and tried to keep from smiling. Matchmaking? As if a man who looked like him couldn’t find someone other than a single mom with two needy kids. It was laughable.
“Go ahead. Say it.” He pulled out of the lot and followed the other vehicle, allowing no more than a couple of car lengths between them.
She’d been going to prevaricate, but Chloe decided she’d prefer to know more about this man and his big family. “Does your mother know about your job protecting us?”
“That’s doubtful. She and my dad just returned from a vacation,” he said, his focus fixed on the road in front of him. “She probably heard talk about us and made the leap.”
“But she’s wrong,” Chloe sputtered.
“I’ll explain when I see her next. Don’t worry about it.”
But Chloe did worry. She didn’t want to be the subject of gossip—not again. It had been hard enough to endure when her father had abandoned them and every kid at school whispered behind her back, when her mother was so drunk she couldn’t speak. She didn’t want that for Kyle and Madison.
“I just hope she doesn’t spread her speculations,” she wished as he stopped at a red light. A snort of derision emanated from his direction but Brendan said nothing, merely waited for the light to turn green.
Halfway through the intersection a black sedan ran its own red light and nearly broadsided Brendan’s vehicle. He hit the brakes hard, fighting for control as the vehicle spun out of control, grazing the back fender of the oncoming vehicle.
“What in the—”
Chloe knew something was wrong from the way he leaned forward to peer out his window. A second later she had confirmation when he grabbed his radio and gave a partial license number. “Two males inside. I think one of them is Ritchie Stark, but I can’t imagine what he wants with us. Broad daylight isn’t his style.”
A few seconds after that, a car raced through the intersection, lights blazing, horn blaring as it chased the black car, which had disappeared with a squeal of tires.
“Okay then.” Brendan proceeded forward.
“Do you think that was deliberate?” Chloe sucked in a breath of dismay at his nod but held her tongue for the rest of the drive. A crackle of Brendan’s radio informed them that whoever had hit him was long gone.
“Ritchie always runs.” He pulled into the drive, waited for the other agent’s nod indicating all was well before he climbed out and moved around to open her door. “Now do you understand why I want you to wait for me? Ritchie’s aggressiveness doesn’t fit the pattern but we have to be careful.”
“Got it.” She watched Kyle and Madison scramble out. Kyle’s face was red and angry looking. He shoved Madison’s arm away, raced toward the house, slamming the door behind him.
“What now?” Chloe sighed as she followed her children inside, wondering how things could get any worse.
“I’m sorry,” Brendan apologized. “I had no idea this would happen.”
“It’s not your fault,” Chloe told him, wishing he’d told her his plans first. “Madison, you go upstairs. I want to talk to you. Kyle, when Brendan and you are finished, you come and see me.” She gave him “the look,” watched him squirm, nodded at Brendan, then walked upstairs.
“Kyle’s a jerk, Mom!” Madison met her at the top of the stairs. Her hands sat perched on her hips, her face was distorted in a scowl. “He’s always mad at everybody and he spoils things. This afternoon he criticized Coach Buddy for a play he wanted us to do.”
“Sit down, Maddy. You and I need to talk.” Chloe waited until her daughter had her rear in the chair, then sat down beside her. “You need to cool down. Brendan told me Kyle wasn’t criticizing the play. He noticed something and wanted to make sure they knew it was a loophole that the other team could get through. I think you should be grateful he tried to help.”
“Grateful?” Maddy’s nose tipped into the air. “He told me I run like a girl!” Her eyes glittered with indignation.
“Madison, you are a girl.” Chloe held up a hand to stop the fury of words that trembled on her daughter’s lips. “Listen to me for a minute. You have soccer. You have hockey. You have your friends and sleepovers and a whole lot of things. What does Kyle have?”
“Maybe if he didn’t write poetry all the time—” She sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry. But he’s always so crabby. Even Ziggy is tired of him.”
“Kyle misses your father. I haven’t been able to help with that. Sometimes boys just need time to be with other men. Brendan ordered that punching bag because he was trying to help Kyle.”
“So you don’t want me to use it?”
“Not tonight.”
“Mom! That’s not fair. Just because I’m a girl—”
“Yes, you are—you’re a girl who has a test tomorrow and hasn’t studied yet. A girl who has a big soccer game in a few days and should be busy concentrating on the moves she was shown. A girl who could cut her brother a little slack, give him a few hours alone with Brendan, punching that bag so he doesn’t feel left out.” Chloe tilted her head, watching her daughter’s face. “Isn’t that the kind of thing a family does for each other? Gives them a push up when they’re down? Forgives? Loves?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Madison pushed up from the chair. “I just hope it helps his mood. I’m tired of his grumpy attitude.”
So was she. Chloe returned downstairs, intending to put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher. The counters and table were spotless. She moved into the laundry room to throw in a load of uniforms and found both machines already humming.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Darcy entered the kitchen, set up her laptop on the table. “With all of us here, it’s the least we can do to help out.”
“You don’t have to do it, but I appreciate it very much.” Chloe made herself a cup of mint tea then sat down beside the agent, her eyes drawn to the flowchart on the screen. “What’s that?”
“Just a list of some curious things that I’ve found. This for instance. Ever heard of someone named Harry Redding?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I have.” Brendan paused on the top step, one foot above the other. “I’ve heard it before. Let me think.” He moved to stand behind Darcy, studied the name for a minute then nodded. “Yes, I remember. Colleen, my cousin, said a guy named Redding was asking questions at the paper.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the name.” Chloe shrugged.
“Okay.” Darcy tapped a few keys. “Did you ever hear any of your drug patients talk about someone they called The Chief?”
Chloe shook her head. “No. Sorry. Brendan has mentioned him, though.”
“Too bad. We’re thinking that The Chief is the new man in charge of the drug scene here. So if you hear anything from another case, you should let Brendan know. He’ll want to question them.”
“It’s important, Chloe,” Brendan added while Darcy went back to work on her laptop.
“I’ll remember. Now, if you’re up here, your boxing session must be finished.” Chloe looked at Brendan. “Is Kyle still down there?”
Brendan nodded. “Hitting the bag a few more times. I hope you won’t mind but I kind of reamed him out for treating Madison so poorly. Nothing terrible, just the kind of lecture my father would have laid on me at his age.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you trying to help. I’ve never seen him be so mean to her before. It’s kind of scary.” She bit her bottom lip, tried to relax her fingers around the mug. “I’m not really sure how to reach him anymore. He wants to
have a relationship with Steve so badly but he keeps getting disappointed. I watch his anger build and I don’t know how to diffuse it.”
“I’m no shrink, but I think as long as you can still talk to him, that’s a good sign. It’s when they shut down that trouble starts.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You’re a good mother doing a great job. They’ll come through.”
“We hope.” She sighed, put down her mug and descended the stairs. It took some time to get Kyle to open up, but when he finally did, Chloe was able to help him understand how much his behavior was affecting all of them.
“I didn’t mean to hurt Maddy, Mom,” he apologized. “Sometimes I just get so angry and I want to hit something. Brendan said maybe if I worked out, I wouldn’t get so upset. I thought it was something he and I could do together and then Maddy butted in that she wanted to do it too and I lost it. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, sweetie. But it’s not me you should be apologizing to.”
“I know.” He rose, took off the gloves and set them on a shelf, then turned to look at her. “I wish we had enough money to make this into a workout room. We could haul those machines of yours down here, put in some lights and make it look cool. I’ll bet some of the guys would want to come over then.”
“I’ll think about it, Kyle. In the meantime, you’ve got some things to do.” She walked up the stairs beside him. “If you’re feeling upset or angry, sometimes it helps to tell someone. Don’t keep things bottled up inside. Let people know that their behavior hurts you. That’s the only way you can get change in your life.” The kitchen was empty.
“You’re talking about Dad, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. “That’s why you used the pills instead of telling him what he was doing hurt you.”
Tears rose to her eyes for this strong sensitive child who had seen so much and obviously been hurt by it.
“Your dad and I both made mistakes,” she told him softly. “But you two were my rock. You gave me a reason to get myself together, to look toward the future instead of drowning in the past. Don’t make my mistake, Kyle, and shut it all inside.”
“I’ll try to remember,” he whispered, hugging her quickly before he disappeared upstairs.
Chloe spent a few moments in the laundry room trying to pray for her children, but the doubts would not be silent. Where was God? With another load sloshing in the washer she returned to the kitchen and her tea. Brendan was on the phone, his voice muted but brimming with excitement.
“What’s going on?” she asked Darcy, who wandered in from the next room.
“They just arrested Ritchie Stark. One of us has to go to the station to listen to what Stark has to say. Maybe we can finally figure out who El Jefe is and if he has any connection to the drugs that are showing up in town.”
“Wait a minute—did you say El Jefe?”
Darcy and Brendan both froze then slowly lifted their heads to stare.
“Have you heard that before, Chloe?” Brendan asked softly.
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I think so. One of the first overdoses that came in a couple of weeks ago. He was really high and rambling but it was all in Spanish. I didn’t catch much, but I’m certain I did hear him say the words El Jefe, as if he was begging him for something. My Spanish is lousy so I didn’t understand what he wanted.”
Brendan’s eyes blazed with excitement. “This is very important, Chloe. Can you tell me the patient’s name?”
“Juan something—Hildago, maybe? You could check the hospital files. They’d have his name.”
“Yes, we’ll do that.” Darcy, too, was excited. “Do you know whether Juan’s still in hospital?”
Chloe shook her head. “No, he isn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy said to Brendan. “We can get his address from records and go to his home, talk to him there.”
“Maybe he’ll be willing to take us to this El Jefe.”
“Juan won’t tell you anything.” Chloe glanced from one to the other, felt her heart pinch at the disappointment she saw.
“How can you be so sure?” Brendan stepped closer to the door. “He might realize—”
“He’s dead, Brendan. He died the day after he came in. I’m sorry.”
It was like watching a balloon deflate. Darcy and Brendan visibly sagged.
“He was recovering, we thought. He seemed to be on the uphill.”
“What happened?”
“Cardiac arrest. The damage was too severe. He passed away.”
Silence fell on the room, each one busy with their own thoughts. Chloe glanced from one to the other, wishing she could have told them something that would have helped. She saw a strange look pass between the two agents.
“You’re thinking Chloe’s attacker might also have had something to do with Juan’s demise?” Brendan’s lips pursed. “Could be.”
“Juan’s the only one that we know about who knew that name, El Jefe. Up till now it was just a tip from a snitch.”
“So maybe Juan was ‘helped along’ so he wouldn’t spill anything.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I might as well go down and talk to Ritchie,” Darcy said, her voice empty of emotion. “See what he knows. You stay here. Fergus is in the other room. Everything should be okay.”
“I should go. I want to ask Ritchie why he ran into me.”
“I’ll ask for you,” Darcy assured him. “You won’t miss anything.”
Chloe held her breath, waited to see who would go. It was clear Brendan didn’t like being left out. Relief swamped her when he gave in and the other agent left. Brendan would remain in the house, with her.
When had she begun to place so much faith in this man?
“Say your prayers tonight, Chloe,” he told her when she finally announced she was going to bed. Darcy still had not returned. “With a little help from above we might just get this case cleared up before Madison’s final game. Then I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
Now why didn’t that thought cheer her up?
Chapter Nine
“I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t my dad get in touch with me? I told him how important this is.” Kyle’s thin lips tightened into an angry line. “He could at least pretend he cares. Make an excuse or something—is that so hard?”
“Maybe he hasn’t received your e-mail yet. Do you want to call him?” Brendan waited to see how Kyle would handle what looked a lot like parental rejection.
“I can’t call him. He hasn’t got a phone.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to see if he turns up tonight, won’t we?” He reached over to pat the boy’s shoulder. “It’s just the first final model night, Kyle. I hope it won’t be the last. Truthfully I’m kind of hoping not too many fathers show up. After all, I’ve never done this before. I’m not exactly sure how it’s going to work out.”
“You mean you’re nervous?” Kyle looked shocked.
“Of course. Didn’t you notice how many of your mother’s cookies I ate? My stomach is dancing like crazy.”
“Mine would be too if I ate that much chocolate.” Kyle grinned at his glower. “Good thing she made extra so the other people could have some after they look at our models.” He tilted his head sideways. “I didn’t think you ever got nervous.”
“Everybody does. It’s the body’s way of telling us to think about what we’ve taken on.”
“Are you sorry you started the model club?”
“Not at all. I’m just sorry Quinn can’t fill in for me tonight. Then he’d be nervous.”
But once they arrived at the church and he saw the models on display, Brendan’s nervousness moved over to accommodate the sense of pride that bubbled up from inside at the careful work the boys had accomplished. He spoke to every father who showed up, praising each child, which seemed to make the parents happy, too.
There were only three men left to speak with when Kyle’s father sauntered in. Brendan’s heart clenched at the relief and pride that washed over the boy’s face as he
introduced them.
“So you’re the guy that’s been keeping my kids away from me.” Steve Tanner barely glanced at the project Kyle proudly held.
“Not at all. I’m sure you can come and see them anytime. I know they’d be delighted.” He glanced down at Kyle’s tense face, smiled. “How do you like your son’s work? He certainly has a knack for detail. I don’t think I’d have had the patience to glue these tiny pieces together when I was his age.”
“Kyle’s always been a momma’s boy,” the man replied, his smile more of a sneer. “I was into football at his age.”
“Were you?” Instant dislike for the man burgeoned, but Brendan stuffed it down, for Kyle’s sake. “Kyle’s more the boxing type. Fast hands.” He feinted a few punches, ducked when Kyle made a few of his own moves. “Soft feet, too. A boxer’s best asset.”
“Boxer? Kyle?” Steve Tanner hooted with laughter. He reached out and punched his son’s shoulder so hard that the boy winced. “Look at that. Hasn’t got an ounce of muscle on him.”
“Maybe you’d like to see the other models.” Brendan forced himself to remain calm as he pointed to the few displays that were still left behind. “Next week we’ll be starting on a bigger project. You’re welcome to join us, work with Kyle. Some fathers can’t come every week but they show up when they can and we’re glad to have them.”
“I have to work. Wouldn’t mind some of that coffee, though. And those cookies. Chloe made them, didn’t she?”
Brendan wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction the gleam in his eyes so clearly wanted. He pretended confusion. “She donated some. Those could be hers, I guess.”
“Ol’ Chloe was always a good cook. A real homebody. Not the type of woman a man like me needs.”
“Really?” Brendan let loose. “She looks like a movie star, holds down a demanding job and takes care of two kids. Tell me, Mr. Tanner, just what kind of woman do you prefer?”
“Steve?”
At that moment, a young woman Brendan guessed to be about twenty-two tripped through the door in a pair of high heeled sandals that almost unbalanced her. She wore far too much makeup, was barely covered by a slinky dress and had long silver nails that grabbed on to Tanner’s arm like talons.
