When Shadows Fall (Callaways #7)

by Barbara Freethy

  "Emma," he answered, seeing his sister's number on the screen. "Do you have something for me?"

  "Yes. I found the file on Stan Harper."

  "Great. What did you learn?"

  "Well, the fire occurred on September 17, 1973. There was one fatality—Stanley Harper. Origin of the fire was the kitchen."

  "Rare for a man to die in a kitchen fire," he commented, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  "I agree, but that's what the report says."

  "What about his family? Where were they at the time of the fire?"

  "According to the investigative report, they weren't at home. In fact, Molly and her kids were at Grandma's house when the fire happened. Grandma lived around the corner from the Harpers."

  His stomach tightened at the connection between the fire and his grandmother. "You're kidding."

  "Do I sound like I'm kidding? As I read through the report, I actually got chills, Colton, because the connection between the fire and our grandparents doesn't end there. Molly said in her statement that she sent Patrick down to get Stan, because he wasn't answering the phone, and she and Eleanor were busy making cookies for a bake sale. Stan was supposed to pick up the kids, but he hadn't shown up. When Grandpa got to the Harpers' house, it was on fire."

  Now Colton had chills running down his spine. "So Grandpa was the first on the scene?"

  "Yes, but he wasn't working that night. He was in his street clothes and he had no equipment. He called 911 and attempted to enter the structure by breaking a window in the back of the house, however, he was unable to get into the kitchen. The fire was too intense. Apparently, cleaning chemicals kept under the sink contributed to the rapid escalation of the fire. Grandpa did everything he could to save Stan but was unsuccessful. In fact, he suffered burns on both of his hands and arms from the attempt."

  "I've seen those scars. Grandpa would never tell me where he got them."

  "Now we know."

  "I have to admit you've surprised me, Emma."

  "Me, too. I didn't expect the connection to Grandma and Grandpa when you asked me to look into the fire."

  "Was there an autopsy?"

  "I haven't found one. It's possible it was misplaced, but Harper's body was badly burned, and we didn't have the same forensic technology then that we do now. I asked Max to see if he can find any files on Stanley's death in the police department records. Since Stan was a police officer, I assume the police would have done a full investigation."

  "Good move," he said, still trying to assimilate what Emma had told him.

  He looked up as Olivia walked into the room. She was dressed in a pair of white jeans with a long-sleeve peach-colored sweater, and her long hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders. She was so pretty, he thought, momentarily distracted from his call. Then his sister's sharp voice rang in his ear.

  "Colton!" Emma said loudly.

  "Yeah, I'm here."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Nowhere. Thanks for your help. Let me know what else you find out."

  "Will do, but first I'd like to know what this is all about."

  "I will fill you in—I promise," he added. "Just not right this second."

  "You're so annoying, Colton. Why the mystery?"

  "I need to put things together before I jump to any conclusions. Call me when you know anything more."

  As he stood up, Olivia gave him a curious look. "Who was that?"

  "Emma." He told Olivia what Emma had just told him.

  Olivia's eyes widened with each word. "Well, we're back to your grandparents."

  He nodded, his jaw tightening. He'd really thought they were moving away from Eleanor and focusing on Molly, but the lives of the two women seemed to be intertwined at every curve.

  "Do you think Patrick knew that Stan was beating up on Molly? It wouldn't seem like he would try so hard to save Stan if he did."

  "What kind of man Stan Harper was wouldn't have mattered to my grandfather. He's a firefighter. He's trained to save lives. He doesn't judge whether or not they're worth saving."

  "So you would risk your life to save a serial killer?"

  "I would," he said, not the slightest bit of doubt in his voice. "I might want to kill him afterwards, but I'd do my job, because that's what I do. And that's what my grandfather would do."

  She stared back at him with her thoughtful green eyes and nodded. "I don't know if I could do that. I guess I'm lucky that in my job I'll never have to make that decision." She paused. "We should talk to your grandmother again."

  He didn't like that idea at all. "She got upset when we mentioned Stan yesterday. She broke down. I don't want that to happen again."

  Her brows drew together in a frown. "Are you trying to stonewall me, Colton?"

  "No, but I want to be careful with my grandmother's health. You saw what happened."

  "It was scary, I admit that. And I understand why you're concerned, but your grandmother might be the only one who knows the truth, and her knowledge is slipping away every day."

  "Maybe that's all right," he said, knowing that Olivia would not agree.

  "How can you say that?"

  "Because all of this shit happened a long time ago. Maybe we should let it be."

  "No. All this shit that you're referring to happened to my grandmother, and I want to know the truth."

  "You don't even know if she is your grandmother," he said in frustration. "Why do you care so much, Olivia? Is it just ambition to get a book deal of your own? What is it that drives your relentless pursuit of the past?"

  Her green eyes turned cold at his words. "Everything you just said drives me, especially the possibility that Molly is my grandmother. I want to know and understand her life. And, yes, I do have a strong desire to write a really excellent book. I'm not going to apologize for my reasons. I'm not doing anything wrong. You should go now." She picked up his shirt off the chair and tossed it to him.

  He reluctantly caught the shirt and slipped it over his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

  "You and I have always been on opposite sides, Colton. I just forgot for a little while."

  "That's not true, Olivia."

  "Goodbye, Colton."

  "Not goodbye. You're not getting rid of me that easily. And we're not on opposite sides. We're both just trying to watch out for our families." He paused in the doorway and just to piss her off, he stole a kiss from her irritated mouth. "I still like you, Olivia, even if your feelings have changed."

  He was barely across the threshold when she slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Olivia's feelings hadn't changed—at least not in the way Colton thought. She leaned against the door, her lips still tingling from his last kiss, a kiss that reminded her of all the other ones they'd exchanged the night before. She'd never felt so uninhibited with a man. Colton had taken her places she'd never been before. But that was last night, and last night was over.

  She was annoyed with him and a little hurt that he'd tried to get in the way of her talking to his grandmother, but she also respected him for his loyalty to his family. She was angrier with herself for getting involved with him at all. She'd let down her guard and started thinking he was on her side when he would always be on his grandmother's side, and she couldn't even blame him for that.

  With a sigh, she pushed off the door and moved across the room. The sight of her tangled bed sheets only made her heart hurt. She needed to get out of this room. She picked up the pictures of Molly bruised and beaten and stuffed them into her purse along with the stack of letters. Maybe she'd find a quiet place to work where she wouldn't be distracted by memories of Colton.

  Once on the street, she avoided her car and just started to walk. It felt good to play tourist for a bit, and she enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the Union Street restaurants, clothing boutiques, art galleries, and the more than occasional coffee spot or organic juice bar. She'd forgotten how health-conscious people were in C
alifornia.

  When she reached a small park at the end of the block, she sat down on a bench and pulled out her phone. It wasn't Sunday, but she needed to touch base with her mother, with the woman who'd raised her and loved her every day of her life. While she'd thought about waiting to contact her mom until she knew for sure whether or not she was Molly's granddaughter, she needed to hear her mom's voice, to feel the connection to her past and to the real people in her life.

  "Hey Mom, it's me."

  "Olivia, what's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said, but even she could hear the tremble in her voice.

  "Honey?"

  "I'm just confused."

  "About what?"

  "Everything. I've been researching the woman who invited me to come to San Francisco, and I've found some information that's a little shocking."

  "What do you mean? What did you find out?" her mom asked, concern in her tone.

  She took a minute trying to think of what she wanted to say. "Well, it's kind of a crazy coincidence, but Molly's daughter, Francine, had a baby that she gave up for adoption, and that baby has the same birth date as me." She could hear her mom's quick intake of breath on the other end of the line. "I don't know for sure that I'm related to them, but it would make a lot of sense considering how Molly reached out to me."

  Silence followed her words. Then her mother finally spoke. "I don't know what to say, Olivia. Is there any other connection besides the birth date?"

  "Not that I've found."

  "I know Molly's letter resonated with you, but are you sure you're not jumping to conclusions?"

  "I'm not at all sure," she admitted.

  "What happened to Molly's daughter?"

  "Francine died about a year after her baby was born. Apparently, she suffered from depression and was a substance abuser; that's what her brother told me. He said he did not know who the father of the baby was, but he wasn't all that interested in talking to me. He made a point of telling me that his mother doesn't have any money and there won't be an inheritance to go after."

  "That jerk. You would never claim a relationship with someone for money," her mother snapped.

  "I told him that, but I'm not sure he believed me. He seems to be a cynical person. I'm trying to cut him a little slack since his mother is dying, but I'm not sure he's any nicer of a person when he isn't in this terrible situation. It's strange to think that I may have found my biological family but the only one who wanted to meet me is unconscious and the other remaining relative just wants me to go away."

  It felt strange to be speaking so frankly with her mom. While her adoption had never been a secret, it had also rarely been a topic of discussion, especially after her father died.

  "Maybe you should leave it alone," her mother suggested tentatively. "It doesn't sound like you have much to gain, honey. And you might end up getting hurt."

  "I just need to know if it's true. I took a DNA test, and it's going to be compared to DNA from Molly's hairbrush and toothbrush to see if there's a familial relationship. I should have the results back today or tomorrow."

  "That's quick," Elaine said.

  "It's not going to change anything with you and me," Olivia said, feeling the need to address what seemed to be simmering right under the surface. "You're still my mom, no matter whose DNA I share. I hope you know that."

  "Of course I do," her mom said. "You're my daughter and you always will be."

  "That's right."

  "How are you getting the test done?"

  "Colton's sister is helping me out. She's a doctor, and she has a friend in the lab who's going to rush the results through."

  "Who is Colton?"

  She suddenly realized how much had happened since she'd last spoken to her mom. "Colton is Eleanor Callaway's grandson. Eleanor is Molly's best friend."

  "Can she tell you if Molly is your grandmother?"

  "She said she didn't know, but she also has Alzheimer's so her memories are suspect."

  "All of this sounds very complicated, Olivia."

  "It's getting more complicated by the minute."

  "I can't fault you for wanting to know your biological roots. I wasn't adopted myself, so I don't know how it feels to not be tied to your parents by blood. But I've always felt like you were mine, Olivia. I never ever regretted that we weren't biologically connected. I know it's different for you. And I want to be supportive, but I can't help but worry where this is all going. I just don't see a positive outcome for you."

  She didn't, either, but she also couldn't stop now. "You know how I am when I have a question that needs an answer. I keep searching until I find one."

  "I know. What can I do to help?"

  "You're already doing it," she said, feeling immeasurably better just talking to her mom. "I'll be okay. I just need to figure things out."

  "Are you going to be able to do that before you have to go back to New York?"

  "I don't know. New York feels really far away right now."

  "There's something else, isn't there? What aren't you telling me?"

  "Nothing," she denied.

  "Olivia. I know you too well. Does it have something to do with the man you mentioned—Colton?"

  "Well…"

  "I'm going to take that as a yes. Is he giving you a hard time?"

  "Yes and no. The thing is…" She searched for the right words.

  "Goodness, I've never heard you so tongue-tied," Elaine said. "What exactly is the thing?"

  She took a deep breath. "I think I might be falling in love with him."

  "Well, that's rather surprising. I've wanted to hear you say those words for a long time. But you never seem to have time to date or fall in love."

  "I don't have time now, and I don't think it's a good thing."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm going back to New York."

  "You don't have to."

  "My job is there."

  "There are jobs everywhere, honey."

  She picked at a piece of lint on her jeans, then said, "He's a firefighter, Mom. He faces danger every time he goes to work."

  "So this is about your father," her mother said with a knowing note in her voice.

  "I watched you worry about Dad every time he left the house, and when I was old enough, I worried about him, too. And then the worst came true."

  "I did worry about your dad. I loved him very much, and I was always a little terrified that I was going to lose him. After he died, I was angry, and I probably showed you a little too much of that anger."

  "You were right to be mad. His job killed him."

  "No, Olivia, it wasn't his job that killed him; it was one bad person. It took me a long time to get to the point where I could accept that. But I eventually did. I wish you could get there, too."

  "If he'd been an insurance salesman or a dentist, he'd still be with us."

  "But that wasn't who he was, and I loved him, Olivia. Every day that I had with him was a blessing. I shouldn't have been angry with him for doing what he loved to do, because what he did was part of him. He accomplished so much in his life. He made the world a safer place for you and for me. It sounds like your friend Colton is trying to do much the same thing."

  "He is a good man," she admitted. "Handsome, strong, brave."

  "The real issue isn't the fact that you live on opposite sides of the country or that he's a fireman, and you know it. You're scared."

  "I am scared."

  "Is he in love with you, Olivia?"

  Her hand tightened on the phone. "I honestly don't know, Mom."

  "Before you leave town, you should find out."

  * * *

  After leaving Olivia's hotel, Colton drove back to his apartment, showered, changed clothes and all the while stewed over the way he and Olivia had left things at the hotel. He wasn't great at goodbyes after sex, that was for sure, but none of the previous awkward encounters in his life had felt as bad as this one. Because Olivia wasn't just any woman, she was—Olivia.<
br />
  There weren't really any words to describe her that felt quite right. She was beautiful, sometimes serious, sometimes funny, and she had a competitive streak and a determination to match his own. She liked to surf and watch sci-fi movies and she drove as fast as he did, which was ironic because she seemed to have a lot of patience for meticulous research but little for getting from one point to another.

  She was a strong woman but also vulnerable. She tried to act like she didn't care that much, but deep down she was all heart. She felt a lot—too much probably. She still grieved for her dad. And while she'd long ago accepted the fact that she was adopted, now she was floundering, trying to figure out who she really was if she was in fact a Harper.

  He couldn't imagine what it felt like to have been given up at birth and sent to live with another family. No matter how fantastically great that family was, wouldn't you still feel rejected?

  He thought Olivia did. In fact, he thought she got her guard up every time she got close to a situation where she might get rejected or abandoned or hurt. Not only had her birth mom rejected her, her dad had died, and as a result she'd felt abandoned by him, too. He didn't want to be the third person to put a dent in her heart, but he had a feeling that might be inevitable, which was probably why they shouldn't have hooked up in the first place.

  But it hadn't felt like a hookup; it had felt like a lot more than that, and that thought was unsettling.

  He'd been so focused on becoming a firefighter, proving his worth and living up to the Callaway family legacy that he hadn't put any time or energy toward a romantic relationship. He hadn't been interested in having someone waiting for him when he got home, someone who might worry about him, someone who might ask him for more than just a good time. Those kinds of complications seemed best put off for another day. He'd never met anyone who'd made him reconsider that strategy—until now. And of course he had to like someone who lived on the other side of the country. He'd certainly never done anything the easy way.