He nodded, hands in his pockets now, but didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. She needed him to go. His familiar scent had wafted all around her and she needed her mind clear.
Was it likely that a guy would use the same soap for more than five years? Or the same aftershave? Or whatever it was that gave Mason the scent that just seemed to call to her? Tricked her into thinking that within him lay her security.
It was ludicrous. Laughable. She was the head of security. The filling of any security needs she might have lay firmly within her.
“I was hoping you’d talk to her.” It took her a second to realize he meant Miriam.
Tapping her pencil against her palm she said, “I have no problem with that, but I don’t think it would do any good. She’s not particularly fond of me.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “What do you mean? She adored you. And you were so great with her. She’s never given me any indication that changed.”
Trying to make light of something that had hurt her deeply, she said, “I don’t know what happened. After the divorce Bruce told me she agreed not to bad-mouth me in front of Brianna as long as I didn’t step foot in her house. I’m allowed to pull into the driveway, but have to wait for him to come out and get her from the car.”
His hand flew out of his pocket and into the air with such force it was a wonder his pants didn’t rip. “See what he does? He told me you said you couldn’t bear to see me again, and he’s told you Miriam said...”
Couldn’t bear to see me again... His words seemed to have...emotion...attached. Something she’d have to revisit. Later.
“No, that wasn’t the end of it,” she clarified, and then continued. “The first time I brought Brianna over to see Bruce, I went in with her. This was before he was living with Miriam. I was sitting on the couch, watching Brianna play on the rug, trying to reach for a toy Bruce had bought for her. Miriam came in the front door, saw me sitting there and went off on me. Asked me was I satisfied now that I’d ruined her Bruce’s life—and who did I think I was, invading his home after I’d hurt him so badly...”
“How did you hurt him so badly?” Mason’s expression was quizzical and she saw the conversation going off track again. But she answered anyway.
“By leaving him. He couldn’t believe I actually would. Especially with Brianna still a baby. He’d trusted me to always be there and then I wasn’t.” She got it completely. Knew how badly it hurt when people destroyed your ability to trust them.
When he seemed about to follow that up with another question—one she feared would be more in depth about the reason for her divorce—she barreled ahead. “Anyway, when I saw how much Miriam hated me, I told Bruce I didn’t think it was healthy for Brianna to be around her. Instead, he talked to Miriam, and the rest you know. I don’t go in the house. She doesn’t bad-mouth me around my daughter. I can’t explain why she didn’t mention any of this to you, but my guess would be that she didn’t mention me at all. She wasn’t going to risk losing her access to her great-granddaughter.”
“She’ll want to see her.”
Yeah. “We’ll think about it.”
“No, I mean today. It’s how I got her to agree to come with me. And to stay. She gets to see Brianna.”
Hackles rising, Harper said, “You had no business promising her that.”
“I had no idea you and Miriam were on bad terms. I thought I was bringing her to family.”
“Yet you didn’t call me last night.”
“You and Brianna are that family. I believed, remember, that you were part of the agreement that I never contact you again.”
“And you brought her here anyway, and then had Lila arrange the meeting.” In spite of his agreement not to contact her. Didn’t matter that there’d been no such agreement. As far as he believed, it had existed.
“Like I said, I thought she was family to you. You’d been so fond of her, and she talks about Brianna every time I see her. I was sure you’d want her here...and that you’d tolerate me because I was the only one who could get her to agree not to go back home. Which was where she was headed when I got the call from Albina Urgent Care.”
She dropped her pencil again. “I thought you went to the house when you got back to town.” Hadn’t he said so? Or only that he always went there on his first day back?
“When I got into town early, I called, but Bruce was home, off work for a couple of days, she said, so I told her I’d see her later in the week.”
“And you got a call from urgent care?” If she could have a damned minute to get to her morning reports she’d know these things.
“Yeah. She drove herself there—broken arm and all. And planned to drive herself home. They didn’t think that was a good idea. So she had them call me. Thank God I’d finished the job early and let her know I was in town.”
“So...if you weren’t at the house, how can you be sure she wasn’t telling the truth? That she didn’t fall off the stepladder?”
“The doctor told me he noticed a pattern of abuse when he examined her. The X-rays confirmed it. There’s a bruise on her arm, with finger marks, where the break is. Same with her chin. He tried to get her to tell him whose hand had been on her, but she kept insisting she’d fallen. So when I talked to her, I didn’t ask the same question. Instead, I asked who she’d seen that day. She told me Bruce. Just like she’d said when she called. But she also said she hadn’t called him to come and get her because he’d gone to the bar, and she didn’t like him to drive any more than the block or so home when he’d been drinking.”
The “cop” bar in town. A place where members of the force could hang out and unwind. Talk about cases. Support each other. Harper remembered it well. Had spent some good times there, actually.
Feeling almost giddy with relief, she had to point out, “Just because she saw Bruce doesn’t mean he did this, Mason.” There was still bad blood between the brothers. She’d hoped they’d joined forces to save their grandmother from harm. It would take something that serious to get Bruce to admit he needed his older brother, and maybe Mason was overreacting here...
As much as Bruce had idolized his brother, he’d also figured that people thought less of him because Mason was such a standout at anything he tried. His entire life, all Bruce had heard was what people expected of him because of the things his big brother had done. Harper guessed that was why Bruce had chosen to go undercover. It was dangerous work. Hard work. And it came with a load of trust, freedom and respect from the force. It was also something Mason had never done.
“I called my brother,” Mason said next. “I didn’t tell him I had Gram with me, or that she’d been to urgent care. He thought I was calling to arrange a time for me to be at the house for dinner with Gram. I told him she hadn’t answered when I called. Asked where she was. He said at home, where she’d been all day. I suggested maybe someone was with her, and he insisted he was the only one who’d been there and that he’d been home all day.”
“Still...you have no idea who could have gone there after Bruce left.”
“According to him and to Gram, he left around 7:45. Gram checked in to urgent care at 8:01, and the bruises on her chin were already purpling.”
Her chest tightened. For a lot of reasons. Most she couldn’t stop to think about. “You know you have no proof at all. Nothing you can charge him with. Not without her testimony.”
“Yeah.”
His gaze met hers, and she knew why he’d asked to see her. What he needed. Her help in finding a way to charge his brother with elder abuse.
She just wasn’t sure she had it to give.
CHAPTER FOUR
MASON WAS ANXIOUS to get back to Albina, to get started on finding out everything he could about his brother’s life—and to stay the hell away from Harper until he could keep himself in check. But he hung around The Lemonade Stand for another hour that morning, s
itting with Gram in a family visiting room in the main building. The rules he’d insisted on meant he couldn’t take her out, and Harper had asked him to be present for her first interview with Gram. A perfectly reasonable request.
“I haven’t seen my baby girl yet,” Gram was saying, throwing a discard on the pile, on her way to beating him in a second game of gin rummy. The cast on her lower arm didn’t affect her ability to pick and throw cards any.
“She’s in a class this morning.” He’d already told her so. Twice. But he didn’t think she was having any trouble remembering that. Her problem was knowing she couldn’t leave. She’d been bobbing her right foot under the table since they sat down.
Miriam Thomas was used to looking after her home, her family, her community. She wasn’t good at inactivity. Never had been.
“Seems like they could pull her out of class to see her Gram. Especially since it’s my first day here.” There was no petulance in her tone, more like...suggestion. Gram’s way of demanding—and every single one of her men knew to jump at that tone.
Mason drew a card. Threw one on the pile.
Brianna was in a counseling session—to see what she could tell them about her visits with her father—with Harper in attendance. When she was through, Harper was going to take her back to day care and meet him and Miriam at the card tables. Gram’s visit with Brianna was going to have to wait.
The room they were in was a decent size and nicely appointed, with couches and chairs arranged in conversational areas with plenty of lamps for reading. A family living room atmosphere, though, for safety purposes, family members didn’t generally visit the shelter. It took special permission and security clearance for anyone other than staff, residents and police to get inside. At the moment, they had the place to themselves.
Mason’s high-level government clearance allowed him access to the entire facility. He’d asked for Gram to be called to the main building. He wanted her bungalow to be a place none of the Thomas men had ever visited. If they were going to get her to admit that Bruce was mistreating her, they had to break her belief that it was her duty to serve her men.
“Gin.” Miriam laid down her cards. He played what he could. Tallied up the score, then gathered the cards and shuffled.
“I need to get home to Bruce.” Statement. Not question. In navy polyester pants and a matching tunic, with her short hair curled and styled as usual, Miriam could have passed for someone on her way to a business meeting. Even at seventy-five, she could’ve handled herself at one just fine. Her strong will was part of the reason he’d had to bring her to the Stand. She was determined that her place was with his younger brother, whether it was healthy for her or not.
“He needs me.” Probably. At the moment, Mason didn’t give a shit.
“Does he know where I am?”
Again, probably. His younger brother was a damned good cop. Mason might have been expelled from Bruce’s life, but he’d kept track of him, relieved to see that his little brother was doing so well. Had been proud of him, too. But even if Bruce hadn’t done well, Mason would’ve watched out for him. He’d be the big brother until the day he died.
“I haven’t told him.”
“What did you tell him?”
He’d been waiting for the question. And wouldn’t lie to his grandmother. “I told him I got a call from urgent care saying you’d been hurt, and your injuries were most likely caused by another individual. I said I was taking you someplace safe for a few weeks until you healed.”
He hadn’t accused his brother of hurting her. Not yet. But he hadn’t not done so, either.
He was still holding out hope that he was wrong—not that he’d given Harper that impression. He needed her to believe it was possible that Bruce was guilty, so she’d help him find out, one way or the other.
He was holding out hope, but he didn’t think he was wrong. No matter how much he wished differently.
Miriam drew. Rearranged the cards in her hand. Discarded. He waited for her to ask about Bruce’s response and found it telling that she didn’t.
“He’ll find me.”
“He won’t get in.”
Gram looked at him, her green eyes filled with the intelligence he’d known all his life. “He’s a decorated cop with security clearance,” she said clearly, easily. “They won’t be able to deny him access.”
It was his turn to play. He waited for her to look over at him, then held her gaze. “Yes, they will, Gram. You have my word on that.”
She nodded. Didn’t argue. But he knew she wasn’t convinced.
Where the hell was Harper?
“You really think if it’s Bruce against her, she’ll come out on top?”
Her.
“I met with Harper this morning,” he said. He’d been debating whether or not to tell her. To preempt the meeting they were about to have. But he’d decided to let things play out and observe the two women together because he wasn’t truly convinced his grandmother had a problem with Harper. The older woman had adored her. Sung her praises every single time Mason called or stopped by to see Miriam and his father during the year of Bruce and Harper’s marriage. She’d been certain that Harper Davidson would be the perfect cop’s wife, just as Gram herself had been. And Mason and Bruce’s mother, too, until the day she died.
“She thinks you don’t like her, Gram.”
“I don’t.”
They were both drawing cards. Discarding. He had three aces and three kings. All he needed was a fourth to go out on her.
“Why not?”
“She took the easy way out. Bruce makes one mistake and she leaves him. He changed after that. Worked all the time. Volunteered for the most dangerous assignments. Nothing I could do or say would bring him around. You think your grandfather didn’t make a mistake or two? Or your father, for that matter? You and I make mistakes. We don’t turn our backs on each other because of them. We stick together. That’s what family does.”
He’d been raised on this rhetoric. Believed most of it. “What mistake did Bruce make?” If he’d been talking to anyone else, his nonchalance would’ve been persuasive, but Gram saw right through him. He knew it when she paused, hand halfway to the discard pile, and looked over at him.
“He didn’t tell you?”
Mason stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “You think that’s likely?”
He’d spent five years telling himself he didn’t need to know why Harper had left his brother a year into the marriage she’d insisted on going through with. That he didn’t care. And that it was none of his business.
All lies—except the last part.
But now...it felt like his business. So he pushed. “What did he do?” he asked his grandmother.
“He had sex with a perp. Her older brother was a gang leader involved in human trafficking. He recruited local kids to use as drug mules. Bruce had to get close to get enough evidence to make a conviction stick.” Gram had spent more than fifty years living with law enforcement. There wasn’t a lot she didn’t know. Or that shocked her.
Mason’s stomach dropped. He’d suspected. Hoped he’d been wrong. He’d hoped there’d been another reason for the divorce—maybe that they’d decided they didn’t love each other enough. Something ordinary. Non-soul damaging.
“He told her right away, didn’t try to hide it from her. Didn’t lie to her. Or even expect to get away with it.”
Which made him wonder, considering Harper’s reaction the first time his brother had screwed around on her and considering how badly she’d been hurt, why Bruce had run home and confessed. Didn’t seem like something his younger brother would do.
Mason reminded himself that what he was hearing could very well be the version of things Bruce had given Gram. A version of the truth colored by Bruce’s need to look good to everyone, to always be the victim. To be perceived as the one who tried
to do right and yet was wronged by others.
“He did what he did for the job, made the arrest because of it. She knew she was marrying an undercover, knew the job entailed some tough calls. And he was honest with her about what happened,” Gram said, then added, “Gin.”
Three aces, three kings and a four counted against him.
* * *
SHE WAS IN a tailspin, walking on familiar paths, smiling at familiar people and feeling as though she’d landed in a world she didn’t know. On the surface, she was the same. But inside, Harper felt she’d changed irrevocably. In the space of two hours.
She didn’t like the change, wasn’t ready to accept any kind of new reality.
“Am I in troubles?” Brianna, her blond curls glinting like gold in the morning sun, wrinkled her nose as she looked up at Harper.
Giving the tiny hand tucked securely within hers a soft rub, Harper smiled down at her daughter. “No!” She put as much cheer and happiness as she could muster into the one word. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all,” she assured the little girl, fully aware, even if others weren’t, how much Brianna grasped from the adults living around her.
“Why did I hafta go to Miss Sara during my reg’lar day?”
Harper smiled down at her. She’d had no time to prepare for the meeting with Miriam and Mason. To avail herself of informational chats with the professionals around her. To gather facts.
“It’s just like she told you, Brie.” She kept her tone light and at the same time reassuring. “Gram’s going to be staying here for a couple of weeks and we wanted you to know.”
Brianna nodded. Just as she’d done in Sara’s office. When the counselor had asked if Brianna had any questions, she’d shaken her head. Harper had been working at The Lemonade Stand since she’d left Bruce, which meant Brianna had grown up there, in day care, from the time she was three months old. How much the little girl knew about the Stand, about the work they did, no one could really tell. Sara had stressed from the very beginning of Harper’s employment that the less the little ones knew, the better. She’d said that kids tended to see what they needed to see, unless someone else pointed out bad to them.
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