The Call of Bravery

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “I’ll talk to her.” Seeing the way her expression changed, he corrected himself. “We’ll talk to her.”

  “All right.” She looked from him to Henderson and back. “Is there anything else you need from me right now?”

  “Maybe a key to the front door? Although we won’t be coming and going much. We don’t want to draw any attention.”

  “I have extra keys.”

  “You didn’t answer my question about visitors.”

  Annoyance flared in her eyes again. “I gather I’m supposed to curtail all social life.”

  “It would be helpful if you could conduct your social life elsewhere.” He was going for law enforcement formal, but had a bad feeling he was coming off sounding like an ass instead.

  Yep. Her expression morphed into active dislike. “Consider it done.” With that, she turned and left them alone in the attic.

  “Way to get the lady on our side,” Henderson remarked mildly.

  Conall gave him a cold look and said, “Let’s get the rest of our crap.”

  * * *

  DUNCAN MACLACHLAN sat behind his desk and tried to concentrate on the document open on his computer. The Vehicle Impoundment and Inventory Procedure did not qualify as riveting reading, but he’d made it his mission to review and potentially revise all the department procedures and policies, from Field Training to Case Tracking. None had been reworked in at least ten years, and police work had changed, if only because of technological and scientific advances.

  He kept thinking that if he hung on for another hour, he could take an early lunch with Jane and Fiona. He’d promised to bring takeout from the Snow Goose Deli to Jane’s store, Dance Dreams. Owning her own business meant his wife could take their now five-and-a-half-month-old daughter to work with her. They wouldn’t have to think about looking into preschools for at least another year.

  Duncan realized he was smiling fatuously at the framed photo of his wife and daughter that sat on his desk. There were times he still didn’t understand how it had happened to him—falling in love, getting married, starting a family. He’d never intended to do any of those things. And here he was, still crazy about his wife, and head over heels in love with their daughter, a cherub with her uncle Niall’s red hair.

  Damn, he thought, and focused his eyes again on the computer monitor.

  When an officer impounds a vehicle, the officer shall complete the Vehicle Impound Report indicating the reason for impoundment in the narrative portion at the bottom of the form.

  Did they absolutely have to use the word impound three times in one sentence?

  Clarity, he reminded himself, was the goal, not elegant writing.

  His phone rang, and feeling embarrassingly grateful for the interruption he grabbed it.

  “MacLachlan.”

  His administrative assistant cleared his throat. “Chief, you have a caller who says his name is, er, MacLachlan. Conall.”

  Duncan’s youngest brother hadn’t spoken to him in over ten years. And he was calling now?

  “Put him through,” he said brusquely. What could have happened that would have motivated his angry brother to be willing to talk to him? When he heard the click of the call being transferred, he said, “Conall, is it really you?”

  “Yeah, it’s really me.” Startlingly, his voice hadn’t changed at all. It sounded a lot like Niall’s, maybe a little huskier.

  “Damn.”

  “That’s friendly.”

  “You’ve caught me by surprise.”

  “Yeah, I imagine I have.” There was a momentary pause. “I’m actually calling on official business. Believe it or not, I’m here in Stimson pursuing an investigation. I’m going to be conducting a surveillance within your city limits.”

  Duncan stiffened. “Are you.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  “If I had a warrant, I’d go in and toss the place. What I have is permission from a home-owner to use her premises to watch her neighbor’s house until we see something interesting enough to justify that warrant.”

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

  “I don’t know,” his brother said. “I got pulled in late. I’ve been working out of the Miami Division.”

  “So Niall said.”

  “I’m currently on loan to Seattle. They’ve got something big going and needed extra manpower.”

  “Are you already here?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Flew into Seattle last night.”

  “Does Niall know?”

  “He’s next on my list. I figured I owed you a courtesy call first.”

  Because he was police chief, not because they were brothers. That stung, although it shouldn’t have after years of estrangement.

  “All right,” Duncan said. “Do you plan to come by the office to give me the details?”

  “I’d rather not. I’m trying to fly below the radar.” Conall was quiet for a moment. “I’m hoping we can meet somewhere that looks unofficial.”

  “You can come by the house.” The words were out before he could recall them. “You know I’m not in the old place.”

  “I did know that. You sent me a check for part of the proceeds when you sold it.”

  He had. Duncan had insisted on splitting what he made on their parents’ house, little though it was after the mortgage was paid out. Still, it was the closest thing any of them had to an inheritance from their worthless parents.

  “You can meet my wife.”

  “I meant to come to Niall’s wedding.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  This silence was a long one, and heavy with everything that hadn’t been said in the past decade. Or perhaps that was in his imagination.

  “I was wounded,” Conall said finally.

  Duncan’s reaction was visceral. It had been his greatest fear that one of these days he’d get a call from some higher-up at the DEA letting him know that they were very sorry, but his brother Conall had been killed in the line of duty. Niall was the one who talked to Conall from time to time, and he’d admitted he sometimes thought their youngest brother had a death wish. At the very least, he was a cold-blooded son of a bitch who lived for the adrenaline rush risk-taking gave him. Duncan wondered how much else he was capable of feeling.

  If that wasn’t a chilling thought.

  “You didn’t tell Niall.”

  “I didn’t want to worry him. Especially right before his wedding.” Conall laughed. “Both of you married. Blows me away.”

  “You know I have a baby daughter now.”

  “You sent me a birth announcement.”

  “Thanks for the congratulation.”

  “Did you expect one?” His brother’s voice hardened.

  “No.” Shit. He bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe hoped.” His own voice had come out rougher. “Whether you know it or not, I’ve missed you.”

  It was so long before Conall responded, Duncan thought he’d lost him. No, I lost him twenty years ago, when I had to rein him in. Become the father he didn’t want.

  “You think I don’t know what you did for us?” Tension threaded every word. “Of course I do. That doesn’t mean I have to like you.”

  God. Damn. Duncan hadn’t hurt like this in a long time, not since he’d almost lost Jane before he could even tell her he loved her. He had to swallow before he could say with relative calm, “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Oh, hell.” Conall sounded ragged. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Listen, I have to talk to you about this investigation. Can we keep it to that?”

  “Sure. Do you want to have coffee somewhere? Or shall we meet up on a deserte
d road?” he added dryly.

  “No. It would look best if I do come to your house. Gives me an excuse to be in town.”

  That ticked Duncan off some. Good to know he was worth something to this brother he’d raised from age twelve on.

  “Fine.” He gave Conall his address. “Jane and I don’t go out much. I’m home by six most nights.”

  “I’ll make it this evening.”

  “Fine,” he said again, and hung up the phone.

  He sat there for a long time, unable to decide how he felt about Conall’s call. Or maybe what he couldn’t decide was which emotion was paramount. Anger? Hurt? Resentment? Or the astonished gratitude that might even have been happiness, because he’d heard Conall’s voice again. He was going to see him.

  Tonight.

  He looked at the computer monitor and realized there was no way in hell he could concentrate on impoundment procedures now.

  What he was going to do was take an extra early lunch and go spend time with his wife and baby girl.

  * * *

  CALLING NIALL WAS ANTICLIMACTIC. Conall almost didn’t, almost put it off until tomorrow. But he didn’t want his middle brother to hear from Duncan that he was in town. He and Niall had been…friends, maybe, for too long. Niall was the only family Conall had accepted after he left home. It was bad enough that Niall had cooled toward him since his wedding last fall. The one Conall had failed to show for.

  He didn’t have to identify himself. Niall listened in silence to his brief explanation of his presence in Stimson.

  “You’re in town” was said in disbelief.

  “Weird but true.” He was actually sitting outside on Lia’s porch, on an Adirondack chair painted a glossy, cherry red.

  “Does Duncan know?”

  “Yes.”

  Niall made a sound that might have been a laugh, might have been a grunt. “You planning to meet with him face-to-face?”

  “I’m going by his place tonight. If anybody hears I’m in town, they need to think it’s to see the two of you. There can’t be any talk about this operation.”

  “You’ll meet Jane.”

  “Yeah.” Conall made himself say it. “I want to meet your Rowan, too.”

  “I haven’t told you she’s pregnant. We, uh, didn’t want our kids too far apart in age.”

  Our kids. He must be talking about Rowan’s two. And a baby. Another little MacLachlan. This was getting surreal, Conall thought. His brothers had gone and turned into average joes. How had that happened?

  “I’m glad for you,” he made himself say, “if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s what I want.”

  No hesitation. The coolness was still there, too, the one he’d heard ever since he called to apologize for ducking out on the wedding. He’d told himself Niall wouldn’t give a damn if he wasn’t there, but Conall knew even then he’d lied to himself. He hadn’t ever been the one who’d made the effort to stay in touch, although Niall and he had gotten close after their father went to prison and their mother walked out on them. After Duncan sacrificed too damn much for them and turned into a tyrant. No, Niall was the one who had made the calls in the first few years. Who’d flown to wherever Conall was a few times. The one who seemed to need the connection.

  Sitting here on the porch, gazing sightlessly at the old barn and the pasture and woods that lay beyond it, Conall had an uncomfortable insight.

  He’d needed that connection, too. Maybe needed it more than did Niall, who had held on to a relationship with Duncan. Conall hadn’t admitted it to himself, but he’d been grateful every time he heard his brother’s voice.

  He had somebody. One person who cared.

  And he hadn’t realized how much he cared.

  This unexpected homecoming, he thought, was going to be a bitch.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LAST NIGHT LIA had come upstairs, knocked briskly and then set two covered plates on the floor along with a couple of cold beers. “Dinner,” she’d said then left. If she’d been a waitress, she wouldn’t get much in the way of tips with that attitude.

  This morning Jeff had gone downstairs and come back reporting that she made damn good waffles. By the time Conall got down to the kitchen, it was apparently closed. He found cereal in the cupboard and called it good, eating a solitary meal in the dining room.

  They’d fended for themselves for lunch.

  Tonight, he didn’t want to show up at Duncan’s anywhere around dinnertime; he hadn’t been invited and wasn’t sure he’d have accepted if he had been. So when Henderson said, “I had a decent breakfast and you didn’t. Why don’t you go down and eat with them?” he nodded.

  “I’ll bring something up if Lia doesn’t.”

  He left Henderson scanning the neighboring property with a scope that had both night-vision and digital filming capability. So far, nothing had happened over there. Literally nothing. No one had so much as stepped outside, although someone had to be letting the dogs—turned out there were a pair of Dobermans—in and out, or was at least feeding them. Tomorrow Conall planned to do some prowling. He wanted to see the back of the property, too.

  This view was ideal, but unfortunately the neighbors were keeping their blinds drawn. Shadows occasionally passed in front of the windows. Any vehicles were hidden in the triple car attached garage, which had a single window covered inside with what looked like a heavy tarp.

  The dogs definitely complicated things. He or Henderson could have slipped a few listening devices beside windows or on the porch if they could have gotten close enough. Somehow he suspected the Dobies wouldn’t prove to be tail-wagging friendly.

  You wanted a challenge, he reminded himself. Consider yourself lucky.

  Conall went downstairs to find Sorrel setting the table. A baby had already been placed in the high chair. The little girl had spiky black hair and eyes almost as dark. Her cheeks were fat and she grinned at him with no inhibitions at all, banging a spoon hard on the tray in emphasis. He retreated hastily, going to the kitchen where Lia stood over the stove, from which really good smells emitted. She glanced at him, expression shuttered.

  “Are you eating with us?”

  “If that’s okay.”

  “Is Jeff coming down, too?”

  Jeff. Good friends now, were they?

  “No. With rare exceptions, one of us will be at that window all the time.”

  She took a tray of big rolls out of the oven. Hunger pangs hit Conall and he had to swallow.

  “Sorrel,” she called, “set a place for Conall, please.”

  So he was on a first-name basis with her, too. Ridiculously, he was pleased.

  The answer floated back. “Okay.”

  “Here.” Lia had dumped the rolls in a huge basket and thrust it at him. “Will you put these on the table?”

  Without checking to see whether he obeyed, she disappeared toward the living room. A couple of minutes later, she steered the two boys ahead of her into the dining room and set the toddler she’d carried on her hip onto a plastic booster seat at one place.

  “What’s for dinner?” one of the boys asked. Brendan, Conall thought.

  “Sloppy joes.” Her eyes cut to Conall. “Nothing fancy.”

  “It smells amazing,” he said honestly.

  Her expression didn’t soften. She finished bringing the food to the table, including a bowl of peas. “Picked an hour ago,” she informed everyone.

  Conall waited and sat at the same time she did, feeling some alien need to display good manners. She—or maybe it was Sorrel—had placed him at the opposite end of the table from Lia. Mother and father, children ranged between them.

  He couldn’t remember sitting down to a family dinner like this since he was… Good Lord, maybe seven or eight. Before one of Dad’s p
rison terms. After that, nothing was ever the same. One thing he did know, though, was that conversation should be flying and the kids more animated than these.

  Baby Julia was the only cheerful one, banging and chattering unintelligibly. Little Arturo, chubby, too, focused entirely on his food and didn’t say a word. Neither did either of the older boys at first. Sorrel watched Conall surreptitiously, blushing when his gaze caught hers a couple of times.

  They passed around the food—those homemade rolls straight out of the oven, sloppy joe sauce to go over them, and peas. He’d forgotten how good peas fresh from the garden could be.

  Lia presided over the meal with grace and warmth, refusing to let the kids stay entirely closed off. Brendan, it turned out, was the older one. She got him talking about the Transformers movie and why the theme appealed to him. Conall was pretty sure he’d never considered that movies had themes when he was that age.

  “Do you like it?” the boy asked him shyly.

  “Yeah, actually I enjoyed all three of the movies,” Conall admitted. “Not that they’re—”

  Lia shook her head, her gaze fierce.

  “Uh, they’re fun,” he said. “You like ’em, too, Walker? Or do you watch what Brendan says you have to watch?”

  The younger boy looked confused. After a minute he said softly, “I don’t care what we watch.”

  Oh, geez. “I had—have—two older brothers. I pretended I liked whatever they liked because I wanted to hang around with them.”

  It was the first time Walker had actually seemed to see him. “I like to hang around with Bren.”

  “He seems like he’s pretty good to you.” Conall found himself speaking gently.

  The boy nodded.

  “We’re brothers,” Brendan said.

  “I can tell. You look alike.” He hesitated. “Lia told me about your mom. I’m sorry.”

  They both ducked their heads. Walker blinked furiously. Oh, hell. He’d probably blown it. Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut?

  And then he opened it again. “When I was twelve, I lost my parents.” A fireball of alarm exploded in his chest. What in God’s name was he doing? But something on those two boys’ faces when they looked up drove him on. He cleared his throat. “They didn’t die. My dad went to prison and my mother decided she didn’t want the responsibility of kids anymore. She packed up and left.”