Peter stared at his mother, marveling at her strength and resilience, her ability to make light of a situation that had caused her so much pain in the past. For years she’d endured the humiliation of her husband’s perfidy in order to keep her family together and minimize the scandal. She deserved every bit of happiness she’d found with Craig, and then some.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Peter shot his mother a quizzical look. “And you think this Tess Cantrell could have something to do with Dad’s disappearance years ago or his murder a few months ago?”
“I wouldn’t know. But she’s as good a place to start as any. Last I knew, she was still living in Bozeman, not far from the apartment Mark kept there for his trysts.”
“Dad! Gram!” Patrick hollered from the next room. “Can one of you help me with this stupid math?”
Jolene turned to head into the dining room, but Peter caught her arm. “I’ve got it. You can go on to the hospital and see Craig. I’ve taken enough of your day.”
“I don’t mind. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little crazy about my grandson.”
Peter lifted the corner of his mouth. “I’ve noticed. And I appreciate the help more than you know. But I’ve been told recently that I’m not spending enough time with Patrick. Helping him with his homework is a good place to start changing that.”
Jolene cocked her head. “Who told you that?”
“Long story.” He nudged her toward the door. “Tell Craig I said hello, and I’ll keep him posted on any leads.”
A knowing gleam sparked in his mother’s eyes. “Interesting. You don’t want to talk about it. Could it involve a woman? Say, an attractive schoolteacher?”
Peter frowned. “How—” The library. “Mary?”
Jolene nodded. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re finally dating someone.”
“We’re not dating.”
“Not what I heard…” his mother replied in a sing-song tone as she left through the front door, then called, “Bye, Patty-boy!”
Peter dragged a hand down his face. Having a large family in a small town could be a mixed blessing. While he could never have raised Patrick as a single father without his family’s ready support, the Walsh grapevine rivaled Eve Kelley’s beauty salon for the lightning speed gossip traveled through it.
As he headed into the dining room to help Patrick with his math, a tangent thought stopped Peter. Large family in a small town.
The Coltons.
Were all of the Coltons privy to the rest of the family’s secrets? Was there another tack he could use to learn what the Coltons were hiding?
Don’t get tunnel vision when it comes to the Coltons. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe his mother was right. She had known the Coltons longer than he had and knew more about his father’s potential enemies.
Stepping over to a notepad on the kitchen counter he jotted the name Tess Cantrell and underlined it.
He stared at the name, and his gut clenched. Did he really want to find and interview his father’s former mistress? Now, that would be awkward. He was no stranger to questioning witnesses, but Tess Cantrell’s relationship with his father made interrogating her deeply personal and potentially painful. And he wasn’t the most tactful man alive. He was sure to do something to get the Cantrell woman’s back up.
His thoughts flashed to Lisa Navarre’s smooth handling of Maisie Colton at the library. Bozeman. Dinner Saturday.
A beat of anticipation and possibility jumped in his veins. Could Lisa Navarre’s people skills help him get the information he needed from Tess Cantrell?
Chapter 5
L ate Saturday afternoon, Peter arrived at Lisa’s house a few minutes earlier than they’d arranged, and she checked her hair in the entry-hall mirror as she hurried to the door. The sight of him, his square-cut jaw and cheeks slightly red from the cold and his broad shoulders filling the door frame, stole her breath. Peter Walsh was a handsome man, no denying. And at that moment, his bedroom eyes, peering at her from under the brim of a black Stetson, and his lopsided grin were directed at her.
“Hope I’m not too early.” His breath clouded when he spoke.
“Not a problem.” She stood back to usher him inside. “Come in from the cold while I get my purse and coat.”
Peter seemed even taller, his shoulders wider, when he stepped into her cramped foyer. A hint of pine-tinged cologne and the leather scent of his suede coat filled the air and hijacked her pulse. The masculine scents that surrounded him reminded her how long it had been since she’d spent time alone with a man.
“I hope it’s not inappropriate for me to tell you how nice you look.”
Her heart gave a nervous thump. “A lady always appreciates a sincere compliment, Mr. Walsh.”
“Peter, please. And I’m completely sincere.”
“Thank you.” Heat pricked her face as he swept another appreciative gaze over her. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her jitters. Backing down her hall, she turned and scurried to her bedroom to collect her purse. Deep breath. Settle down. It’s not a date.
“You have a nice house,” he called from the front room.
“Thank you. It’s small, but it’s all I need.” Lisa pulled her dress coat from the closet and took her cell phone from her nightstand.
“On the way in, I noticed you had a broken window on the west side and a patch of broken shingles on the roof right above it.”
Lisa poked her arms in the sleeves of her coat as she headed back down the hall. “Yeah. Had a branch from my neighbor’s tree hit the house during the tornado last month.” She reached the living room and caught her breath again at the sight of him. He might be a private investigator but with his Stetson, his suede range coat and his rugged good looks, he could easily be mistaken for one of the ranchers who populated Honey Creek.
She cleared the sudden thickness from her throat. “I’ve been too busy to call a repairman, and I figured there were folks with bigger repairs than mine first in line following the storm. For now the cardboard fix will have to suffice on the window.”
He pointed to the couch where Samson sat staring at Peter. “I don’t think your cat likes me. He’s been giving me the evil eye since I arrived.”
Lisa grinned. “Don’t mind him. He acts tough, but under all that fluff, he’s just a big marshmallow.”
She walked over to scratch the Maine coon under the chin, and Samson gave a loud mrow before hopping off the couch and stalking away.
“You know, with this cold weather settling in, you should see about getting the window fixed soon or your heating bill is going to eat your lunch.” He crossed to her, lifting a hand for her to proceed him to the door. “If you want, I can take care of those repairs for you. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours one afternoon. Did you have any other damage?”
Lisa led him out to her front stoop and paused long enough to lock her door. “No, the branch was about the extent of it, thank goodness. Other folks weren’t as lucky.” She flashed him a smile as they walked to his truck. “And though I appreciate the offer, I couldn’t ask you to do my repairs.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He opened the passenger door for her and sent her a sheepish look. “Besides, I have a favor to ask you, and doing a few repairs for you is the least I can do to repay you.”
Lisa lingered in the open door, enjoying standing so close to Peter’s body heat and his tempting masculine scent, and she tilted her head. “What kind of favor?”
“I, uh…have a side trip I need to make tonight before dinner. Business-related.” He paused and firmed his mouth. “Actually, it’s more personal business.” He knocked his Stetson back and scratched his forehead, stalling.
She gave him a patient smile of encouragement. “What’s the favor, Peter?”
“I have to interview a woman in Bozeman. She had a, uh…a relationship with my father when I was a kid, and…I think she might have information that w
ould help me find the person responsible for my dad’s murder.”
Lisa frowned. “Why aren’t the police talking to her then?”
“She’s not a suspect or anything. I’m just following a hunch, tracking down any possible leads. I’m conducting my own investigation into recent events. This has nothing to do with the case the sheriff’s building.” He hitched a shoulder. “Unless I find something significant.”
Lisa drew a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. “And you want me to help you somehow?”
“I saw how you handled Maisie Colton at the library the other day. You’re good with people and—”
Lisa chuckled her surprise, then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. I’ve just never considered myself a “people” person. If you knew how nervous I get about talking to parents, how nervous I am even right now—” She stopped and swallowed hard.
Oops. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.
Sure enough, when she ticked her gaze up to Peter’s, his eyes were warm, and a grin tugged his cheeks. “Don’t be nervous. Remember, this isn’t a real date.”
The low, husky quality of his voice made her quiver low in her belly. Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the nip in the air rose on her arms.
She twitched a grin. “Right. Not a date.”
“So will you help guide the conversation and smooth the rough edges for me when I talk to Tess Cantrell? Knowing that she was my father’s former lover makes me more than a little uncomfortable.”
“I can imagine.” Lisa raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’d be happy to help however I can.”
The smile of gratitude and relief that spread across Peter’s face was all the reward she needed, but Peter still insisted he would tend to her home repairs later that week.
As they drove to Bozeman, Peter filled her in on the recent turbulence in the Walsh family. Besides the death of Mark Walsh, a tragedy she was familiar with only through the reports in the Honey Creek Gazette, Peter’s sister had been forced off the road, her fiancé’s house torched. Then a close family friend, a man Peter considered a second father, had been hospitalized after being poisoned.
“And you think all the incidents are related?” Lisa gave him a skeptical frown. Honey Creek had its share of petty crime, but the kind of conspiracy to commit multiple murders seemed a bit much for their small town.
“I can’t prove it yet, but I intend to. Thanks to my line of work, I’ve learned not to believe in coincidence. Generally, if someone in your life is acting suspiciously, there’s usually a reason.” Peter glanced across the front seat to her. “Three attacks on my family in four months is no coincidence.”
An uneasy flutter stirred in her belly. “Do you think you and Patrick are in danger?”
A muscle in his jaw bunched as he gritted his teeth. “I can’t say for sure, but I wouldn’t rule it out. I can take care of myself, but I’d appreciate it if you kept a close eye on Patrick when he was at school.”
“Of course.” She nibbled her bottom lip as she studied Peter’s profile. “So how have you explained all the recent trouble for the family to Patrick?”
Drawing his eyebrows together low over his eyes, Peter shot her a dubious look. “I haven’t told him anything. He’s a kid. I didn’t want him worried or upset.”
Lisa gaped at Peter. “Nothing? You’ve told him nothing?”
“Well, when his grandfather was found murdered, I had to tell him about that. It was in the newspaper and all the talk around town. I didn’t want him to hear about it from someone else. But he didn’t go to the funeral. I figured it would be the media circus it proved to be.”
“So he doesn’t know about Mr. Warner being in the hospital or the attack on your sister?” Lisa gripped the armrest, goggling over what Peter had shared. No wonder Patrick was acting so withdrawn, so insecure.
Peter rolled up his palm on the steering wheel. “Well…he knows Craig is in the hospital, because my mom babysits Patrick, and she leaves our house to go sit with Craig in his hospital room. But nothing about the arsenic. I told Patrick Craig was just feeling a little ill and was in for tests. Which is the truth…in a sense.”
Lisa sighed and laced her fingers in her lap. “Peter, may I be candid?”
He sent her a startled look. “Please.”
“I think keeping Patrick in the dark is causing more harm than good. He’s a bright boy, and he’s old enough to sense when there’s unusual stress and upheaval in the family. I think the reason he’s been withdrawn lately at school, the reason he made the comment he did about you not caring about him and the reason he decided to act out the other day is that he’s feeling excluded, shut out.”
Dark clouds filled Peter’s expression. “I didn’t tell him, because I was trying to protect him.”
“I understand that. I’m not telling you this to point an accusing finger. But the other day at the library you asked for my help with your son. I feel like it’s my duty as his teacher to look out for his best interests.”
He whipped his head toward her. “No, it’s my job as his father to look out for his best interests. That’s what I thought I was doing!”
“We both want what’s best for Patrick. But that doesn’t mean we have to be at cross purposes.”
Peter heaved a sigh, sent her a concerned glance and nodded. “You’re right. So…go on. I’m listening.”
Lisa stretched the fingers of one hand with the other, fidgeting as she gathered her thoughts. “Well, my guess would be he’s worried because he knows you’re worried, but he doesn’t understand why. The underlying tension in the house, the extra time you have to spend away from home, and the hints he picks up about trouble facing the family are all affecting his performance at school. And his mental well-being. He senses something is wrong, and without any explanation from you, he fills in the blanks for himself. He’s scared, uncertain. Knowing fourth-graders the way I do, I suspect he’s probably thinking the problems are his fault.”
“His fault? No…” Peter shot another deeply worried glance at her before returning his attention to the road.
“I know they’re not, but he doesn’t. Just think how his young imagination must be running wild, conjuring up all form of frightening possibilities to explain the grim mood in your house.”
He shook his head and frowned. “If something is bothering Patrick, he knows he can come to me with it. We’ve always had that kind of open communication between us.”
“You mean until recently?” Lisa met Peter’s startled look. “You just said you weren’t telling him about the family’s recent crises. Communication is a two-way street. How can you expect him to be honest and forthcoming with you if you aren’t with him?”
“That’s different. There are things kids don’t need to know. Things he’s too young to hear, too young to grasp.”
“True. So give them to him on a level he can understand. Weed out the stuff he’s too young to hear. But don’t pretend nothing is happening and that everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t have to be gloom and doom. That will scare him. But be honest with him and let him know that he’s not to blame and that you are still there for him, protecting him. Give him back his sense of security. Let him know you love him and that you’ll handle the trouble facing the family together.”
Peter said nothing for a while, clearly mulling over all she’d laid out for him. As they neared the Bozeman city limits, he turned to her with a gentle smile. “That makes a lot of sense. Thank you, Ms. Navarre.”
“Lisa.”
His eyes warmed, and a flutter stirred deep inside her.
“Lisa.” He quirked a wry grin. “So if you don’t have kids of your own, how’d you get so smart about parenting?”
He meant the question to be teasing and light-hearted. She could see that much in the playful spark in his eyes, the devilish grin tugging his lips.
But his words sent a sharp ache straight to her heart.
So if
you don’t have kids of your own…
She swallowed the knot that rose in her throat and forced a smile to her face. She would not, would not let him see how his innocent words had slashed through her. Curling her fingers into fists, she sucked in a calming breath to steady her voice. “Six years of teaching and a minor in college in child psychology. I thought it would be a good complement to my teaching certificate.”
“That’d do it,” he replied with a wink.
Fighting down the grief that threatened to spoil her mood, she focused her attention on the Rocky Mountains silhouetted against the setting sun, beyond the lights of Bozeman. Montana had a rugged beauty and majesty that never failed to take her breath away. When Ray had left her, she’d never once thought of leaving Montana and going back to Texas, where her family lived. Even when the ice and snows of winter buried Honey Creek, Lisa saw the landscape as a wonderland.
“When we get to Tess Cantrell’s apartment, just follow my lead, okay? I need her to feel comfortable enough to speak freely with me, to tell me everything she remembers about my dad and any enemies he had when she knew him.”
Lisa angled her body back to face Peter. In the fading daylight, his profile had the same rugged appeal as the Rockies.
Peter rubbed a hand over his jaw. Although she could tell he’d shaved before he picked her up tonight, the calluses on his palms still scraped against the rugged cut of his chin with a soft scratching sound. Lisa’s nerve endings crackled, imagining those wide, rough palms gliding over her skin.
Her mouth dried, and she gave herself a mental shake. Peter Walsh might be handsome as the devil, but entertaining any notions of a physical relationship was…dangerous. She didn’t believe in casual sex, and a deeper, more personal relationship could only end badly. Ray was proof enough of what men thought of sterile women. Though most men would deny it until they were blue in the face, the ancient biological imperative to procreate still ruled men on some subconscious level. That primitive drive would eventually rear its head with any man she got involved with and cause the kind of resentment that had ruined her marriage to Ray.
P.I. Daddy's Personal Mission Page 7
