by Joya Fields
They headed for an opening in the chain-link fence. Three Asian women, speaking in hurried foreign tones, glanced at them, then ran out through the fence, disappearing into the shadows.
A gray-haired woman stood, gathered her shabby tweed coat around herself, and approached the fence. “You with the city? Here to evict us?”
“No. We’re looking for some kids. Heard there were some runaways here,” Keely said, pausing at the edge of the fence.
“Ah.” The woman waved her hand in front of her face. “They left last night.”
Keely’s shoulders slumped. Then she fished out her cell phone. “I have a photo of a missing little girl. Can you tell me if she was with them?”
The woman grunted, but stayed by the fence.
Keely scrolled through her emails and found the one she was looking for. Melita’s face filled the screen. Keely turned the phone to the woman. “Have you seen her?”
The woman squinted. “No. Them kids were older. Teenagers.”
“Do you mind if we come in and look around?” Nevaeh asked.
The woman shrugged, then turned and shuffled back to her lawn chair.
“Shall we go in?” Nevaeh asked.
“Keely,” Logan called.
She turned to see him running across the street toward her. “Now that we have our escort, I don’t see why not.”
“Hey,” he said, his gaze holding hers.
Her pulse quickened, remembering how he’d held her last night. “Logan, this is Nevaeh. Nevaeh, Logan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nevaeh said, shaking his hand. “We had an anonymous tip overnight that runaways were camping out here, but that woman over there told us they left last night.”
He lifted the chain link fence where it split. “She might be lying.”
Keely squatted low and eased through the opening, followed by Nevaeh and Logan. They checked each tent and found a few drunks sleeping off a rough night, a mom and her small child and a few other adults. No runaways. Keely made a mental note to bring the mother a brochure on homeless shelters and to report her findings to her supervisor, but likely as not, when she returned, the woman and child would have moved on. The way it appeared the runaways had.
“It was worth a shot,” Keely said, ducking back under the chain link as Logan held it for them.
“Every lead can’t pan out,” he said. “Believe me…about two out of every three tips our snitches give us turn out to be dead ends.”
“Yeah. Same here. Thanks for escorting us,” Nevaeh said.
“Sure thing.” He faced Keely. “I saw your car across the street. Want me to follow you to the parking garage? We can ride to the jail together in my truck.”
“Good idea.” Time alone with Logan. They needed to talk about last night.
All these years, she’d dreamed about being with him again. How good it would feel, how right it would be. But now that they’d been together, what did their future hold? Especially if he was still leaving for Texas.
…
Logan followed Keely’s car through city traffic. Seeing her in the same clothes she’d stripped off last night had almost been his undoing. What the hell was he supposed to do, when all he could think about was being with her again?
His cell phone rang. Quinn. He put the call on speaker. “Hey. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
“I know. We’ll talk tonight, okay? I’ve been at home with the wife. She’s having a tough week. You doing all right after the shooting?”
“Yeah. Peterson had to take the kid down. Thank God he was there.” He flicked on his signal to enter the parking garage behind Keely.
“Yeah. Self defense. Plenty of witnesses.” Quinn cleared his throat and Logan froze. Quinn only cleared his throat like that when he didn’t know how to phrase something.
“Out with it, Quinn. What else?” Logan braced himself. A confession? Did Quinn know that they’d discovered he and his wife had applied to be adoptive parents?
“I wanted to make sure you knew they found that kid. Lenny Harper. The one who got away after his pal shot Margaret Beyer.”
“Found him?”
“Dead.”
“Shit.” Logan closed his eyes briefly. So much for the one lead in the case.
“Two other gang members shot dead with him. Shot in the back of the upper torso.”
Gang members. Was there a turf war he wasn’t aware of? Maybe Margaret, with her community activism, had gotten caught up in it. But how did Ben play into something like that?
“Thanks, Quinn. Keep me updated, will you? I’ll be rooting for Marcie to feel better. We’ll talk tonight.”
“Sure. Hang in there.”
Logan disconnected the call and pulled in behind Keely’s car. Nevaeh waved and he waved back, then Keely opened his passenger door and slid into the SUV. She wore no makeup and a streak of sunlight spotlighted her face, making her freckles show more than usual.
He wanted to forget about Ben’s case, forget about the kid who’d been shot, forget about Quinn’s name in the adoption file, and take Keely back to his house and up to his bed.
Instead, he put the truck into gear. “We’re on the visitor’s list at the jail.” His phone rang and he put it on speaker. “Logan North.”
“Detective North, this is Ronald from the Detention Center. The prisoner you’re scheduled to visit isn’t available today. He’s in the infirmary. Got hurt in the fight yesterday.”
Logan let out a curse. “Thanks for letting me know.” He disconnected and steered out of the garage. “Guess the other inmates found out he was in there for child abuse.”
Keely blew out a breath. “It’s hard to feel sorry for him, but damn, every time we try to speak to him, something gets in the way.”
“He might not even be helpful.”
“I know.”
“I got a call from Quinn earlier, too. Looks like they found the other kid—the driver—from the attack yesterday. Dead.”
She squinted at him. “What happened?”
“He and two other people were murdered. Possibly gang related.”
“What does this mean about Margaret’s shooting? How will we ever find out if those two were the ones who attacked my dad if they’re both dead?” she said, sounding frustrated.
“Dunnigan is working every angle.” Logan pulled the car into a parking spot near the elevator.
They still had to talk about last night. After years of keeping an eye on her from a distance, he’d finally given in to the need to be with her. He could get used to holding her as he fell asleep. Could spend every night feeling her slow, relaxed breathing against his neck.
Last time he’d made the decision for her. This time, though, he’d let Keely make the call about what she wanted in her life. But there were things she needed to know about him first. Things that might make her run far away.
And he may as well get it over now.
He faced her, but before he could speak, she drew a deep breath.
“Logan,” she said, “there’s something important I need to tell you.”
…
Keely swallowed hard and stared out the windshield. Logan shut off the engine. The only sound was the muffled sound of traffic below. And Keely’s heart pounding so loud she was sure Logan could hear it.
Sunshine beamed down on the buildings around the parking garage, casting long, dark shadows. Oh God. Now that she’d started the conversation, there was no backing out.
Complete honesty. After last night, she wanted more than ever to be with him. For now, she’d forget he was moving to Texas. If things worked between them, they’d work that part out, too.
Taking a deep breath and blowing it out gave her the courage she needed. She faced him. “Last night was…well, it was wonderful.”
His lips turned up at the edges. “I’d have to agree with that understatement.”
She smiled. He’d taken away some of her fear with his teasing words, and she relaxed. It would be fine.
He’d understand.
“There’s something I haven’t told you that I think you need to know.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. Come on. Just say it. “That night we were together ten years ago…the night I gave you my virginity. I told you I loved you. You told me you loved me, too. Only, then you left. And…and…” Her heart pounded hard and she gripped his forearm, determined to let him know everything before she chickened out. “Logan,” she whispered, “I got pregnant that night. I had a miscarriage five weeks later.”
Her throat clogged with tears that begged for release. Now that she’d said the dreaded words, she wanted to get out of the car and run far away. It was too hard to revisit that time in her life. Too awful to relive that kind of loss. They hadn’t planned the baby, but that hadn’t made losing it any easier.
Logan’s gaze flashed to meet hers and the color drained from his face. His whole body jerked as if he’d been hit. “Shit. What? Keely— If I had known…” He stared at her. “My God. Shit.”
He glanced around the SUV as if he’d find the answers he was looking for. His mouth moved as he tried to form words but couldn’t.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything if you had known.” Her voice shook. Maybe she shouldn’t have burdened him with the truth, maybe all it did was hurt him. But he deserved complete honesty.
He took her hands in his, leaned to her, forehead to forehead. She held her breath for a second, afraid and yet yearning for comfort. Pain whipped through her body, a physical reaction to the heartache and the memory of losing both Logan and their baby, too. She would not cry. Not now. Not in front of him
“How could…I mean, we used a condom,” Logan said.
She nodded. “Things happen.”
He backed away. Was the pain on his face because they’d lost their baby? Or was he finding it hard to believe he’d almost been a father?
“I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago.” He stared at their clasped hands. “I’m going to get a vasectomy.”
What? Had she heard him correctly? She’d carried his baby. Her mind flashed to the weeks after the loss. She’d mourned their baby. Logan’s baby. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her heart, she still held on to the hope—no matter how slight—that one day they could make another baby. “You want a vasectomy?” she asked, stunned. “You’re only twenty-nine.” She shifted away from him, needing more space, more air.
He didn’t meet her gaze. “I hate that you went through that alone, Keely. I can’t take the chance it’ll happen again. I have anger issues. The kind that will forever keep me from becoming a parent. I wouldn’t want history to repeat itself.”
His hand scraped over his chin. Stubble covered his jaw. He’d likely run out the door so fast to meet her this morning that he hadn’t had time to shave.
Why was he so hung up on anger issues? Couldn’t he see he was nothing like his father? Yes, he used his fists and his strength, but he used them to take down bad guys, not innocent children. “Logan, that doesn’t make sense at your age. You might change your mind. Anything could happen.”
“It’s always been my plan. Kids need a father to protect them, to look after them. That wasn’t how my father was, and that’s not how I would be. Knowing this anger lives inside me—that knowledge can keep me from making the mistakes my father made.”
She leaned closer and took both his hands. Strong hands. Hands that had caressed her in the most loving way last night. “Logan, don’t sell yourself short. You are so different from your father. You would make a great—”
He squeezed her hands once and, then pulled away. “If you knew me, really knew me, you’d know that wasn’t true.”
“You know, vasectomies aren’t always reversible. You could change your mind, and then be out of luck.”
He smiled, but his smile was forced. “Not an issue.” He leaned forward, took her hands back in his. “Last night was great, Keels. And you’re…you’re incredibly special to me. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you, to mourn with you, when you lost our baby.” His voice hitched on the last words. The smile dropped from his lips and his faced grew serious. He looked off into the distance, his eyes glistening. “You know my father lost his temper with me and my mom. He beat her worse. She used to tell me to pretend to be unconscious when he beat me to save myself from being beaten further.”
“Yes,” Keely whispered. She’d seen the bruises, heard her mom and dad talk about his father’s incarceration. Had read the details in his file. He’d even told her some things himself when they were young.
“I’m like that, too.” He pulled his hands from hers and stared down at them.
“Logan you’re not like him at all!” His dad was mean, a control freak. Didn’t he realize he could never be like his father?
“Oh, yeah?” He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “Then why did I almost kill a defenseless ten-year-old boy?”
She shook her head, reeling from his declaration. “Logan, if you hurt a kid, I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“An American soldier was on a stretcher, dying. One of several dozen hurt in a roadside bombing, miles outside Kandahar.” His eyes turned distant and clouded, and he frowned, speaking as if still remembering the day in detail.
She wanted to reach out to comfort him, but sat still, wanting him to continue.
“This kid crept along the injured soldiers, stealing anything he could. Moving their bodies. Some of them had spine injuries.” Logan’s jaw tightened. “I yelled at him, but he wouldn’t stop. I went after him. Grabbed him. Threw him to the ground. His head hit a rock.”
“Oh, Logan.”
The blank look in his eyes disappeared and he glanced at Keely. “I almost killed him.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Did you intend for his head to hit the rock?”
Logan slashed a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I reacted the same way my father used to react when we did something wrong. With violence.”
She pressed her lips together. She wasn’t a psychologist. She didn’t know the right thing to say.
He stared through the windshield.
“You didn’t abuse the kid, Logan. You tried to stop him with words first. He could have made those men’s injuries worse. You only did what anyone else would have done.” She laid her hands on his arms, feeling his biceps flex in response.
She bit the inside of her mouth, afraid to ask the question, but knowing she had to. “What happened?” she asked quietly, gazing up at him.
“Knocked him out. He had a bad concussion. The medics took care of him.”
“Any discipline from your superior?”
He shook his head.
“If your troop leader can let it go, why can’t you?” she asked.
He straightened his shoulders. “I’d better let you get to work now.”
Fine. Discussion over. I can take a hint. “Yeah, okay.” She dropped her hands from his arms.
She’d let him drop the conversation for now, but she’d work on him. He had to see that catching a kid who was robbing and possibly injuring already wounded soldiers wasn’t the same as taking a strap to a kid who’d left out the milk carton.
Time for a change of subject. She couldn’t convince Logan he wasn’t like his father. Only he could do that. But she could steer his attention in another direction. Take some of the pressure off them.
She tilted her head. “I’d like to talk with members of the Loving Arms Board of Directors, see if any of them know who else received the custom briefcases. Starting with Dave. He’s at my dad’s today. I can swing by later after I check on Margaret Beyer at the hospital.”
Logan frowned. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near this case. I’ll keep digging, find out who’s behind the attack, as well as Margaret Beyer’s.”
She let him give his little lecture, then smiled up at him. “We could be a team.”
He rolled his eyes and huffed out a loud breath. “Let the police do their work,
Keely. Your job is to stay safe.”
She wouldn’t agree to stay away from the case. And now that she’d had a taste of Logan again, she wasn’t sure if she could stay away from him, either.
Nobody came even close to making her feel the way he did. And she had a sinking feeling nobody ever would.
Was she the only one who felt it?
For now, she’d settle for being with him. Strangely enough, her dad’s case seemed to be neutral ground for them. He let his guard down, forgot to keep his distance when they talked about her father and his attacker.
Logan glanced at the dashboard clock. “You have to be in your office for that appointment soon, don’t you?”
Okay. End of conversation. For now. What they’d shared last night—what they’d shared ten years ago—was worth fighting for.
What would it take to make him realize he wasn’t the angry man he thought he was?
…
Logan quelled the panic in his whole body. He had almost been a father. Hell.
He massaged his temples and stared at Ben’s front door before knocking. And Keely had gone through a miscarriage and mourned their baby all alone. Nobody should have to experience that kind of loss by themselves. He’d let her down in so many ways.
A baby. Their baby.
The only way to deal with this news was to stay distracted. He’d focus on helping Dunnigan with Ben’s case and tying up his last official investigation involving human trafficking. Easier than thinking about Keely and the baby they’d lost.
Before he could knock on the front door, Beatrice opened it.
“How’s everything going?” He stepped inside.
“Very quiet. Ben and Dave are in the dining room.”
As Logan entered the dining room, Dave walked out of the kitchen, a pot of coffee in his hand. “Detective.”
Ben glanced up from a pile of papers strewn all over the table. “Have a seat.” He gestured to a chair.
“I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Dave said, lifting the pot.
“No, thanks,” he said, sitting across from Ben.
“You sure? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
“I’m sure.” Christ. The man had better back off.
