The Detective's Secret Daughter

by Rachelle Mccalla

  “She did almost seem like she was trying to tell me something.” Victoria’s voice caught. “I wish I would have asked more questions. But at the time I was afraid she was going to upset Paige with all the talk about missing out on having a dad.” Her words broke away, and Owen could feel the heaviness of her emotions weighing on her.

  When he closed his eyes to the smiling man in the picture, Owen saw Paige’s face, superimposed over the picture of himself at the same age. There it was again, ten years’ history taunting him with details he wasn’t privy to. Victoria sounded as if she felt guilty about taking Paige away from him. She’d said she’d come back to Fitzgerald Bay so that he could meet his daughter. He had to ask.

  “Why did you take so long to come back?”

  When he opened his eyes, tears had started leaking down Victoria’s face.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook so much, Owen could hardly make out her words. She gulped a breath and continued in a slightly steadier tone. “I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face any of the Fitzgeralds. My dad killed your cousin. He hit him head-on and killed him. People said he might have been drunk.”

  None of what she’d said was news to Owen, but he got the dreadful sense her words weren’t coming out of nowhere. She was building up to something big.

  Victoria’s lips trembled as she continued. “How could I look any of you in the face? My dad did this horrible, horrible thing.”

  Owen took a step closer to Victoria and folded his arms around her. There was her old perfume again, pulling him back against irrefutable time into the despair and loss he’d suffered.

  “I ran away. I thought I’d give it time, let everyone get calmed down, and then I’d come and find you and tell you.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Though Victoria had pressed her cheek against his shoulder, clinging to him as she cried, he felt her spine stiffen and she began to pull away.

  “Victoria?”

  “I thought…” She stumbled backward, shaking her head. “I knew. I knew better than to come back, but I believed it would be okay. I thought I could trust you.”

  Now she wasn’t even making sense. “Why did you stay away for ten years?”

  Her tear-filled eyes met his. “I was afraid you’d try to take Paige away from me.”

  Owen felt as though he’d had the breath knocked from him. He tried to think of something to say, but what was there? Yes, he had every right to his daughter, but he’d proved Victoria’s fears correct already. He couldn’t deny it.

  Rather than look at him, Victoria started picking through the broken picture frames they’d moved aside while they swept.

  Owen looked at the broken picture frames. It might take all night for Victoria to sort through the mess, and he knew she always rose early to get started with each day’s fresh baking.

  A tear splashed from Victoria’s chin onto the freshly swept floor.

  Owen crouched down beside her and picked up a broken picture frame. “Tell you what. I’ll clean up. You go check on Paige and make sure she’s okay. Take your time.”

  With a final sniffle, Victoria’s footfalls disappeared in the direction of the staircase. Owen didn’t watch her go, but took a deep breath, trying to quiet the emotions that raged inside him. His head felt hot and his hands trembled as he reached for the nearest picture, the one of Olivia’s parents.

  They smiled for the camera, and Owen’s eyes narrowed at the face that seemed familiar.

  A face that almost looked like his.

  He shook that thought away, absurd as it was. He was only about five years older than Olivia, and he’d never been to Ireland. Though he knew that wasn’t him in the picture, in some ways, it was.

  That man had left his daughter behind, left Olivia to be raised by a single mother. Had he known about his daughter? Did it matter?

  Owen wished he could push aside the vine of guilt that curled around him, but the greedy tendrils only crawled higher.

  Everything blurred together.

  Olivia’s father.

  Olivia’s baby.

  What was it Victoria had said when she’d learned Olivia had a secret baby?

  Maybe she was afraid if the baby’s father knew about her, he’d try to take her away…if he was from a wealthy family, someone of means and an established reputation, and she was just a poor single girl, with nothing to show. If she had no support network, no income, the baby might have been awarded to the father.

  Owen tried to tell himself that Victoria had been talking about Olivia’s baby, not her own. But at the same time, he realized exactly why her impromptu hypothesis had sounded so well thought out, so rehearsed.

  She’d wrestled with those very fears every day for ten years, hadn’t she?

  I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face any of the Fitzgeralds. My dad killed your cousin.

  Her words swirled together, forming a pattern in his mind—a pattern that made sense only when he was willing to look at it from her perspective, not his.

  Victoria had feared that his wealthy, powerful family would take away the only family member she had left. She’d hidden Paige from him because she hadn’t wanted to lose her.

  Suddenly he realized the enormous courage and faith it must have taken for her to return to Fitzgerald Bay at all.

  The guilt that had been climbing steadily higher all this time now reached his throat, choking off his breath, sending stars dancing across his vision. He stumbled backward and slumped into a chair.

  Victoria’s greatest fear had been that he would take Paige away from her, yet she’d risked everything to return to Fitzgerald Bay to tell him the truth.

  And then he’d proved her worst fears correct by demanding she share custody.

  Owen fought for breath.

  What was he doing? What was he thinking? How many times had he wished he could dry Victoria’s tears? And yet, this time, he’d been the one to cause them.

  Sucking in a slow breath, he struggled to think. Victoria didn’t trust his family, and she had no reason to trust him, especially not now. Was there any way he could possibly earn her trust back?

  Unsure what his next move should be, Owen got to work cleaning up the mess in the dining room. By the time Victoria returned, Owen had most of the broken glass removed from the frames and had sorted the pictures into stacks for salvaging. Too bad he hadn’t been able to sort out the havoc he’d wreaked with her life.

  “Paige is asleep.” Victoria set a couple of boxes on the table nearest him. “How about if we put the pictures that need new frames in one box, and the frames that need repair in another?”

  “Sounds good.”

  As they worked in silence a few more minutes, Owen’s mind spun over the question of what to do. Should he apologize to Victoria for insisting on his parental rights and shared custody?

  What if she interpreted that as a sign that he didn’t want his daughter? It didn’t make sense for him to waffle back and forth until he’d solidly made up his mind on what his next move should be.

  Victoria had already told him he needed to earn Paige’s trust before revealing that he was her father. Obviously, he needed to work at earning back her trust, too. But it seemed like such an insurmountable task, after all he’d done to tear it down.

  He hung a couple of undamaged pictures back on the wall, knowing he should be focused on the case and not his personal life. Another thought occurred to him—one that, thankfully, might bring them closer to solving the case, which was what he knew he should be thinking about anyway.

  “The fleeing figure I saw this evening—the female? She had blond hair sticking out from underneath her hat. I’m not sure how long it was—long enough to flutter as she went around the corner.”

  For
a moment, Victoria looked shaken. At first Owen thought her response might be due to his sudden change of subject. But then she whispered, “Britney, my waitress, has long blond hair. She would know when we’d have the most money on hand.” She shook her head, wincing. “I gave her time off whenever she needed it. I don’t get upset when she comes in late. Why would she do this to me?”

  “If she wasn’t working alone—”

  “You think Charlotte put her up to it?” Victoria bit her lip.

  “Charlotte turned on the light just in time to scare the intruder away. It could have been a coincidence, but it could also have been a preplanned signal.”

  “So now what are you going to do? Arrest them? Bring them in for questioning?”

  “There’s nothing to be gained by that at this point. It would be best not to let on that we suspect them. We don’t have any fingerprints, and the footprints I got this evening are too generic to convict anyone.”

  “So then what? We watch them?”

  “We watch them carefully.” Owen nodded. “And we wait for them to make their next move.”

  Victoria exhaled a long, shaky breath. “And we pray that no one gets hurt.”

  Owen hung the last two undamaged pictures on the wall. He’d be praying—for Victoria, for Paige and for answers.

  With the room finally clean, Owen had no excuse to linger any longer. As he tromped toward the door, he felt far older than he had when he’d come in, and weighed down by so many questions.

  The Monday crowd was thin. Victoria would have loved to tell herself it was just a coincidence, possibly a result of last night’s snow, but she knew the boarded-over window had to be a turnoff for potential customers. And in spite of her efforts to disguise the damage from the inside, she’d seen a number of folks staring at the closed curtains and whispering.

  By the time she brought Paige home from school, the Sugar Plum was empty.

  “What can I do to help you, Mom?” Paige asked, scampering back down the stairs after stashing her coat and backpack upstairs in their apartment above the café.

  Victoria had heard that question too many times from her daughter in the past week not to be suspicious. “Why do you think you need to help me, Paige?”

  “I can do things, Mom. I’m not a little kid. I can do work, and then you don’t have to pay someone else to do it.”

  The innocence and good intentions on her daughter’s face made Victoria feel even worse. “Paige.” She pulled her little girl into a hug. “You are a child. You deserve the freedom to do little-kid things, not work—”

  Paige wrestled out of Victoria’s arms. “I’m not a little kid!”

  A moment too late, Victoria realized how her words must have sounded to Paige. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to feel burdened by everything that’s going on.”

  “Why not? This is my home, too.” She stomped past her mom toward the kitchen. “I’ll fill the salt and pepper shakers.”

  Victoria sighed and headed after her, vacillating between keeping Paige from helping—or just giving in and letting her little girl help out, even though it made her feel terribly guilty. “Let me get the salt and pepper for you, then.” She handed the big containers to her daughter. “I’m proud of you, that you want to help. It’s a very grown-up thing to do. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do it.”

  “You’re just afraid I’ll mess it up, like I messed up catching the bad guy.” Paige took the containers and left the kitchen.

  As the last few words floated back behind Paige, Victoria stopped still as though she’d been slapped. Did Paige feel as though she had to make up for letting the bad guy get away? Victoria stared in the direction her daughter had disappeared, weighing what she might say to her, but before she could get her feet moving after her, she heard the bell on the front door jingle.

  Finally, a customer.

  Victoria hurried to the foyer, eager to wait on whoever had come in.

  She looked around the room.

  There was no one there.

  Victoria stepped into the nearest dining room, but saw only Paige, already getting to work on the salt and pepper shakers.

  Odd.

  Victoria was sure she’d heard the jangle of the swag of sleigh bells that festooned the main entrance year-round. No one else had been inside the building—Charlotte and Britney weren’t scheduled to begin their shifts for over an hour—so someone had to have come in. But where were they?

  The guests who’d taken rooms over the weekend had all checked out that morning. But perhaps one of them had come back—maybe they thought they’d left something behind? Victoria darted up the stairs to look.

  Heart beating hard, Victoria checked each room while clutching her cell phone. Was she overreacting, or was there reason to be alarmed? All of the rooms appeared to be empty, their beds neatly remade, awaiting the guests who’d already booked for the upcoming Saint Patrick’s Day weekend.

  Clambering back down the stairs, Victoria was relieved to see Paige busy at work gathering salt and pepper shakers from all the tables.

  “Paige, did you see anyone come in?”

  “Nope,” Paige called over her shoulder as she headed toward the far end of the dining room.

  Victoria saw a shadow move across the window just beyond Paige.

  Her heart stopped.

  Overreacting. That was all, she was overreacting. She took a deep breath and stared outside the window, willing the shadow to appear again.

  There. The distinct movement of a shape beyond the window. A man. A big man.

  “Paige.” Victoria tried to keep her voice calm. “Honey, come here.”

  “I’m almost done, Mom. Just give me a second.” Paige continued gathering up an armful of the tiny glass containers, heading closer and closer to the window, and possibly toward danger.

  “Paige!” Fear filled Victoria’s voice, but she didn’t care. She scuttled toward her daughter, afraid of alerting the figure beyond the window to the fact that he’d been spotted, but at the same time, zealous for her daughter’s safety. “Get away from the window!”

  “Why?” Her blue eyes widened with fear.

  “The man.” Victoria pulled Paige back as the shadow moved again. “Outside the window. We need to call the police.”

  “It is the police, Mom.”

  “What?” Victoria couldn’t make sense out of her little girl’s words.

  “Outside. The policeman. The one who keeps coming here.”

  Victoria blinked and looked back behind her. “The man outside the window is a policeman?”

  “Yeah. When I came out of the kitchen, he left through the front door.”

  Had that been the sound of jangling bells she’d heard? “When did he come in?”

  Paige shrugged and shifted the little bottles she held cradled in her arms. “You could ask him.”

  “Good idea.” Victoria took a closer look out the window to confirm the shadowy figure wasn’t an intruder, and then felt a gust of anger hit her.

  Owen Fitzgerald was chopping wood outside their window.

  Victoria stomped outside, not even bothering to grab a jacket. The cold wind didn’t even slow her down as she charged around the building to the woodpile.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Victoria planted her hands solidly on her hips and tried to stare Owen down, even though he was many inches taller than her five-foot-eight.

  “Chopping wood.” Owen split the round log in front of him, then turned to stack it on the growing pile he’d started behind him.

  “Outside my window? After all your warnings that whoever might be lurking outside our windows could be dangerous? You nearly scared me to death!”

  “I—�
�� Owen started.

  She took a step closer to him. “You’ve already done more of it than I have.”

  Owen plunked down the sledgehammer he’d been using and leveled a stare right back at her. “I came inside. It sounded like you and Paige were having an important discussion in the kitchen. I didn’t want to interrupt you—”

  Victoria had no qualms interrupting him. “You could have poked your head in and let me know you were here.”

  “You wouldn’t have let me do anything for you, then. You already told me not to finish the pile.”

  His words only made Victoria feel all the more vindicated in her position. “You knew I didn’t want you doing this, but you still insisted on doing it. What’s going on with you?”

  Paige’s voice carried from the side of the wraparound porch. “What’s going on with you, Mom? You didn’t want me to help, either.”

  Victoria spun around, surprised by Paige’s sudden appearance. “You’re not supposed to be outside without a coat on.”

  “You don’t have a coat on.”

  “That’s different. You’re a—” Victoria bit her tongue before she could say little kid. She already knew that would make Paige only more upset.

  “What am I?” Paige insisted.

  “You’re, uh…” Victoria blew out a long, slow breath. Though she figured she had a right to be upset with Owen, she wasn’t going to let that anger carry over to her treatment of her daughter. “You’re right. You’re right, Paige, if I’m outside, I should have a coat on. I’m going back inside.”

  “What about him?” Paige gestured to Owen.

  Victoria wavered. Did her daughter not even know Owen’s name? Paige was usually so good at calling grown-ups by their proper titles. Hadn’t she bothered to introduce Paige to Owen?

  No, she hadn’t—because she’d been too worked up by the fact they’d interacted at all.

  “He is Detective Owen Fitzgerald,” Victoria explained to Paige. “And he’s wearing a coat, so he can stay outside if he wants.”