There was an appalled silence. Conall didn’t let himself see the expression on Lia’s face.
“She left?” Brendan whispered. “On purpose?”
“Yeah. I’m guessing you know your mom would have done anything in the world not to leave you.”
He could see in their eyes that it was true.
If he’d been into greeting card moments, he would have gone on and said, You’re lucky because you’ll be able to remember your whole lives how much your mother loved you. Fortunately, he wasn’t, and he didn’t.
But they understood anyway. After a moment they both nodded.
It was Sorrel who asked, “How come your dad got put in prison?”
“He sold illegal drugs.”
“My friend Rochelle’s does sometimes, too. At least, she thinks so. She hasn’t seen him in a long time.”
“I haven’t seen mine since I was twelve.”
“Is he still in prison?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Did you have to go to a foster home, like us?”
Conall looked around the table. They were all staring at him except Arturo, who kept eating, messy but getting the job done. Julia beamed at Conall, her four teeth cute accents in that broad smile. The other kids had expressions that said, Are you one of us?
He shook his head. “I told you I have two brothers. My oldest had turned eighteen. Mom and Dad let him keep the house. He got a job and took care of my other brother and me.” He was getting a lump in his throat. Man, this was stupid, but right this minute he couldn’t help seeing the past in a different light. Yes, he knew he’d been lucky to have Duncan, but seeing the faces of these kids brought it into sharp focus.
He would have gone to a foster home if Duncan hadn’t given up his dream of going off to college, Conall knew. Or his stay would have been short. He’d been too big a screw-up, as young as he was. He’d already stolen a car and gotten caught. He’d gotten so drunk a couple of times, he’d blacked out. He’d smoked marijuana, tried cocaine. He’d have ended up in a group home if he’d gotten his act together at all, in lockup if he hadn’t.
Dad and me.
He didn’t like acknowledging it, but he owed Duncan big-time. Not the mood Conall wanted to be in for this reunion.
“What kind of job did he get?” Brendan asked.
Conall blinked. “Ah…construction. He’d been doing it summers anyway. He managed to get his college degree, too, mostly with evening classes. Duncan was really motivated.” He heard how sardonic that sounded. My brother who could move mountains.
“Duncan?” Lia said sharply. Her eyes were wide and astonished. “I should have realized.”
“Realized?” he said warily.
“Your brother is the police chief.”
“He’s a cop?” Sorrel exclaimed.
“Yeah, he’s a cop.” Didn’t she realize he was, too? “So is my other brother, Niall. He’s a detective with the police force here in town.” Conall could feel how crooked his smile was. Ah, the ironies of life. “Our dad was in and out of prison, and all three of us went into law enforcement.”
The teenager stared at him with open astonishment. “But…”
“We don’t have to follow in our parents’ footsteps, Sorrel,” Lia said. “I think that’s what Conall is telling you.”
Actually, it wasn’t, but he didn’t argue. What had he been trying to tell her? He should know, but didn’t. Truth was, he’d stumbled into law enforcement, not chosen it as Duncan had. Conall had looked for something exciting, out of the ordinary. What he’d found suited him perfectly. He was good at undercover work because he was a hell of an actor. Always had been. The job didn’t require him to make emotional connections; in fact, his ability to feel nothing was useful. Going deep for months at a time was hard if you identified too closely with your role. If you started caring about the people you were there to bring down. That wasn’t a problem he’d ever had.
He hadn’t set out to do battle with all drug dealers because they symbolized his father. He wasn’t aiming for atonement. The idea was ridiculous. You had to care, if only in a negative way, to draw in a face on the paper target at the shooting range that you intended to pump full of bullet holes. Conall didn’t do that. His paper targets stayed faceless.
He was aware, though, of some tension he didn’t understand. He was frowning, he realized. Probably because thinking about either of his parents always made him edgy.
Then don’t.
Easier when he was far, far away from his not-so-beloved hometown.
He tuned in to discover that the others were talking, sounding more normal than they had earlier. Lia laughed at something Sorrel said, and he found himself staring. The sound was unexpectedly throaty and…honest. Most people tried to rein themselves in when they laughed. They didn’t surrender to the moment. Her head fell back and she shook with it. Amusement seemed to light her from within. His body tightened in automatic reaction and he made himself look away.
She was still smiling when she scanned the faces at the table. “Blueberry cobbler, anyone?”
Conall almost groaned. He’d intended to take off, but…homemade cobbler? “With ice cream?” he asked hopefully.
She laughed again, the first genuinely warm look she’d ever aimed directly at him. “Vanilla.”
“Then wow. Yes for me.”
Chortling nonsense sounds, Julia whacked her spoon on the tray. She was already a mess, sloppy joe sauce smeared on her fat cheeks. He could only imagine what blueberries would do to her.
Turned out Lia was smarter than that. The baby only got ice cream, her brother ice cream with a few berries stirred in. They both seemed satisfied. Everyone else ate with gusto and enthusiasm, even Walker and Brendan. It was hard to be depressed when every bite you put in your mouth was bliss on the spoon. This, he thought, was Lia’s talent. Or one of them, anyway. The ability to soothe and inspire and heal by the food she put on the table.
And with her smiles, too, unbelievably gentle for all the kids, a little different for Sorrel, as if with the tilt of her lips she was implying something conspiratorial: we girls are in this together. Her smiles for him were considerably more cautious, conventional. Conall didn’t blame her. She should be cautious around him.
He scraped his bowl clean and resisted the temptation to lick it even cleaner, then grinned. “That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I can remember. Thank you.”
Unless it was his imagination, a tiny bit of color touched her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”
“If I may be excused, I’m off to see my brother.”
“Duncan?” Walker asked.
“Yeah. Duncan.”
“Oh.” The boy ducked his head. When everyone waited, he asked, “Will he ever come see you here?”
“Ah…probably not.” Definitely, hell no, not.
The boy’s shoulders seemed to sag slightly. “Oh. Okay.”
Conall was still asking himself what that was about when he stuck his head upstairs to tell Henderson he was going, then walked out to the Suburban. What would Walker think if Conall told him that, after all his big brother had done for him, he hadn’t spoken to him in years? No mystery there—the kid wouldn’t understand.
Conall didn’t totally understand.
Brooding, he hit the first pothole out on the gravel road too fast, and thought for a minute he’d broken an axle and maybe a tooth.
Goddamn it, concentrate. This was a job. He hadn’t come home to muck around in the past.
Duncan, he discovered, had a pretty fancy place. Nothing cookie-cutter about it—angles and planes and shingled siding, very Northwest. Spectacular garden, too. The wife’s influence, maybe?
Conall didn’t suffer from nerves, but he felt a few twinges after he rang the doorbell.
He rotated his shoulders to reduce the tension there was no reason to feel.
Even so, when the door opened he was balanced on the balls of his feet as if anticipating an attack. Ready for the worst, but making sure his body language looked relaxed. Acting.
When he saw the man in the opening, Conall thought, Damn. He would have known Duncan anywhere, but he’d changed, too. Aged. Well, of course he’d aged, but Conall was shocked to see that he had threads of silver in his dark hair. Not many, but a gathering at each temple. Of course, he was heading toward forty now.
In fact, he was close to the age of their father when they’d last seen him. And…the same age Mom had been? Was it possible?
The craggy face that looked more like Conall’s own than he was comfortable acknowledging was almost as expressionless as he remembered. But…not quite. He’d loosened up in some indefinable way.
“Conall.” He stepped back. “Come in.”
Conall dipped his head and walked in. He followed his brother past the living room to the kitchen, where a woman closed the dishwasher then turned to study him.
“Another MacLachlan,” she said with a small laugh. “Nobody could mistake you.”
He stiffened at that, but only said, “You must be Jane.”
“Yes. I’ll leave you two to talk, but I wanted to meet you.” She smiled and came to him, her hand outstretched. “Hello, Conall.”
She was a beauty. Not like Lia, but definitely classy. She moved like a dancer, toes slightly turned out, had a mass of glossy brown hair bundled carelessly at her nape, and deep blue eyes that were friendly but also watchful.
Suddenly amused, Conall suspected that if Duncan hadn’t been present, she’d have issued dire warnings. Hurt my husband and you’re dead meat. Strangely, he was pleased. She loved his big tough brother, who was a lucky son of a bitch.
Conall took her hand, but instead of shaking it he drew her to him and kissed her cheek. “It’s a pleasure, Jane.”
She eyed his deliberately charming smile with suspicion as she withdrew, heightening his amusement. Yeah, she might even be a match for Duncan. Go figure.
She excused herself, leaving the two men alone.
“Have you eaten?” Duncan asked.
“Yes.”
“Coffee?”
“Thanks.” He sat on one of the breakfast bar stools and rested his elbows on the counter. “Nice place.”
Duncan nodded.
“Baby asleep?”
“Yeah, she just went down for the night.”
“There’s a baby at the place I’m staying.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. “Eight months, I think. Happy little thing.”
“Fiona isn’t quite that.”
He knew exactly how old Duncan’s daughter was. He’d looked at the baby announcement in amazement when it arrived, and later the one photo Duncan sent. Until today, Duncan never commented on the fact that he didn’t hear back from Conall. Into the vacuum he kept sending a very occasional letter, things like the wedding invitation and then the birth announcement, sometimes a Christmas card. Conall had never figured out why he bothered.
Now…he thought maybe they were a trail of bread crumbs, offering a way home. The idea unsettled him, maybe because here he was.
Not home. Not anymore.
It hadn’t been in a long time. The trouble was, he didn’t exactly have a home. He’d never made one.
Didn’t want one.
“I’d like to see her.” Strangely, he realized he really did. See what MacLachlan blood wrought in the next generation.
“How long are you going to be around?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what we find. Or don’t find.”
Duncan inclined his head. He brought two mugs of coffee to the bar and sat, too, a couple of stools away from Conall. “So tell me about it.”
They talked then, both professionals, Conall expressing some of his irritation with the vagueness of the information he’d been given. “You know anything about the people in that house?” he asked.
His brother shook his head. “No. The owner does something in the oil business. He worked up at the refinery in Anacortes, but I hear he got transferred to Texas, and couldn’t sell the house as quick as he needed to. Real estate is slow right now.”
Real estate was slow right now everywhere.
“So he and his wife are renting the place out for now. It can’t be cheap, that’s a big house.”
“You actually know it,” Conall said slowly.
Duncan’s eyes, razor sharp, met his. “I’ve driven or walked every street in my city.”
“You didn’t herniate a disk driving that one?”
Duncan grinned. “A few potholes? Are you such a city boy now you can’t deal with ’em?”
“These damn things have to be a foot deep. I’d kick in some bucks to the cause of filling them, except I don’t want Lia to have to go knocking on her neighbors’ doors right now.”
“Lia?” His brother frowned. “Lia Woods? That’s who you’re staying with?”
“That’s her.”
“Foster kids?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Huh.” Duncan became pensive.
“What? You know her?” He set down his cup hard enough to splash. “You had a thing with her?”
That earned him a startled look. “God, no. I’ve never met the woman. At least, I don’t think I have. No, I heard something.” He hesitated. “Probably nothing I should repeat.”
Conall snorted. “Hell, no, you’re not doing that. You think I can’t be close-mouthed?”
“I don’t want you, as a federal agent, to feel like you have to do something about it.”
About…what? He sifted through the possibilities. Lia wouldn’t still be licensed if this had anything to do with the children in her care. Say, an accident, or alleged abuse, or…
“She’s got more kids than we were told she had.”
Duncan’s gaze, steady, met his. “Hispanic?”
“Yeah.” Conall laughed. “Oh, man. They’re illegals.”
“I, uh, heard a rumor and made the decision not to check it out. Most of the time we don’t get involved in immigration issues. I don’t want anyone to be afraid to talk to us because they think we’ll get them deported.”
Conall nodded. Maybe that was why Arturo hadn’t spoken at all at the dinner table. If he was Spanish-speaking, he probably hadn’t understood a word anyone said.
“I assume the county or whoever licenses her doesn’t know this.”
“I assume not. And that’s if it’s true. It may not be.”
“Oh, I’d bet it is. Phillips didn’t know anything about the two littlest kids she has, except that she told him they were real temporary. He figured it was a receiving home thing.” Conall laughed again. “No wonder she hasn’t been as warm and welcoming as she could be.”
“She can’t be thrilled with the arrangement anyway. She’s got two men moving in with her. Must be awkward as hell. You’re extra work, could be a bad influence on the kids. Worse yet, what if the bad guys next door learn you’re there? Your presence could put those kids in danger.”
Conall couldn’t argue. In fact, offhand he couldn’t think of an upside for Lia. When he thought about it, he guessed maybe she’d been decent to the two strange men she’d been saddled with.
Should he try to reassure her that they weren’t interested in immigration issues, either? Was there any way to do that without letting her know that she was on the local law enforcement radar? Without scaring the crap out of her?
No. There wasn’t.
He’d keep his mouth shut, he decided.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Duncan said. “We could maybe find a reason to knoc
k on their door without making them suspicious.”
“Not yet. Sooner or later they’ll show themselves. If we can get some photos, identify faces, then we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay,” Duncan said.
Conall recognized a signal and slid off the stool. “I’d better get back.”
“Jane will want to have you to dinner.”
Conall depended on his instincts, developed over years of perilous undercover work. What he didn’t often do was pause to think, How do I feel about that? His stride checked briefly when he discovered he didn’t recognize what he was feeling. Something was going on inside him, but he didn’t know what. It seemed that he was okay with the idea of socializing with his brother and sister-in-law. And that was worrisome. This whole experience was like being flipped upside down and given a good hard shake. Things weren’t settling back into the right places.
Remembering the look of warning his sister-in-law had given him, he said, “I’d actually like that. I told Niall I want to meet his wife, too. And their kids.”
“We’ll do a family get-together.” Did Duncan sound as bemused as Conall felt?
Maybe.
Needing to get out of there, Conall departed after only a few more words, all polite and shallow as a coat of paint.
Where was the bone-deep anger? The resentment? The intense gratitude he’d hated most of all?
Nowhere to be found.
There was a whole mess of stuff going on inside him, but none of it was familiar. That left him unsteady, a stranger to himself. Not a sensation he liked.
* * *
LIA DIDN’T MAKE IT OUT to feed the horses until dark. The younger kids were all in bed. Having Sorrel was something of a blessing right now, as Lia trusted her enough to believe she’d respond to sounds of distress. Otherwise Lia wouldn’t be able to linger outside, as she was doing tonight.
She’d quartered an apple and brought that out, too. She loved the feel of the soft lips on her palm, the whiskers tickling her. Noses butted her chest and she laughed aloud.
The Call of Bravery Page 5
