by Patti Larsen
Malcolm made a soft noise of complaint and I turned toward him to shush him, only to find tears tracking down his cheeks, face twisted in grief. The two men locked gazes while Dad spoke further.
“I drove to the Patterson mansion,” he said, “terrified for her, desperate to know what happened. No one would speak to me, the front gate locked against me. And when I tried to use my position as a deputy to get inside, Harold Patterson, the sheriff, threatened to fire me.” Dad never wavered from his intent focus on Malcolm. “I went to the FBI, to the state troopers, but no one would help me.” He tossed his hands, a small gesture that spoke giant volumes of frustration, fear and self-judgment. “I decided to toe the line, to stay employed as a deputy, worked my way up to sheriff, always digging in private, looking for traces of her, of what she’d uncovered. But I never found out what happened to her.” Dad finally looked away from the grieving father and to me. “Whether she’s alive or dead, her disappearance is on me.”
He was forgetting she’d agreed to the whole thing, so she had a part in it. Or was that me trying to defend my dad from himself?
***
Chapter Twenty Four
Malcolm’s next interruption came after a long silence from the three of us, a quiet punctuated by the soft sounds of the bully at the door adjusting his stance, the rustle of his suit louder than it should have been, carrying clearly in the utter empty.
“I came looking for my girl.” The Irishman’s tone was nothing like Dad’s had been, full of a mixed bag of emotions that made it hard not to cry in sympathy for his depth of hurt and loss. “Siobhan and me, her mum flying in from Ireland to join me in the search when Fee fell silent.”
Dad nodded. “I told you what I knew,” he said.
“You promised me,” Malcolm snarled, cutting off my father’s words with blade-like precision, “you’d find out what happened to my daughter. Swore to Siobhan you’d bring Fiona home to us. You failed, John Fleming. Failed all of us.”
Dad didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. It was clear he knew that about as distinctly and perfectly as anyone in the room.
“When your da failed,” Malcolm shot at me like I was part of the problem suddenly, “I stayed. Sent Siobhan home to the Isle, parted ways with the love of my heart to live here in this backwater town, set up shop as an excuse to keep my bosses from demanding I return to Chicago.”
“And Dad looked the other way.” I understood their symbiosis now, the connection, why my all about truth, justice and upholding the law allowed the criminal boss to take up residence in Reading without a word against him.
“Your da owes me and mine,” Malcolm said. “I believed him, all those years ago. Trusted enough to let him have his way with the investigation while I lingered, waited for something to happen, for my girl to return. Finally did my own digging when nothing was forthcoming. And was told, by my own bosses, to stay out of Patterson business.”
Wow, wait, what? “The Pattersons are connected to the Irish mob in Chicago?”
Dad and Malcolm both exchanged a look before the latter shrugged.
“No one will tell me,” he said. “Only that I was to look the other way and mind my business if I planned to stay in Reading.”
“If they really wanted you to do that,” I said, “they would have demanded you leave.”
Both men looked equally frustrated but it was Dad who answered.
“We know that,” he said. “We’ve spent over thirty years trying to understand what the hell is going on, Fee.” Now the true depth of his frustration showed up, one big hand forming a fist, striking his thigh with a blow hard enough to leave a bruise. “I was threatened,” he said, “your mother. She was pregnant at the time. I agreed to back off, at least in theory, to protect you and Lucy. But when you were born, we both agreed, Lu and me. To name you after the young woman we adored.” He glanced at Malcolm, guilt crossing his face. “And we named her parents as your godparents.”
Holy freaking no way. I stared open mouthed at Malcolm who flashed me a grin empty of humor.
“You know now why I wanted to keep you out of it.” Dad’s fist unclenched, his face full of despair. “Fee, I couldn’t tell you. And there was no way I could let you be a cop, knowing you’d find out about Fiona’s disappearance, that you’d go digging. Put yourself in danger.” He gestured at Malcolm. “I couldn’t lose you the way he’d lost her.”
The Irishman didn’t argue, to my surprise. I figured he’d quip something nasty. Instead, he nodded, staring at the floor, head bowed.
“The Pattersons came up with that despicable story,” Malcolm said, accent even thicker, making him hard to understand. He looked up at me, pride shining in his face. “The same one you told me about, lass, the lie about her affair with Teddy. All to discredit her, to deflect suspicions about where she’d gone, what happened to her.”
“Did Teddy Patterson vanish as well?” I was still in shock, but clearly my mind wasn’t going to let me down when it came to important details.
Dad shook his head. “As far as we know, he’s still up there at the mansion, he and Marie, ruling their kingdom to this day.”
“As far as you know.” That was a weird thing to say. “You don’t know for sure?”
Dad hesitated before Malcolm sighed an angry gust of air out between pursed lips.
“No one I know has seen or talked to either of them since that night,” he said. “The mansion was locked down to anyone not a Patterson and there’s never been anything I can do about that.”
That got my snooping senses tingling. Before I could leap on more questions, though, Malcolm stood abruptly, lurching to his feet as if someone tugged hard on strings controlling his body.
“Now you know what we do,” he said. “Which is nothing.” He hesitated, ran one hand through his cropped silver hair, then sagged. “If you’ll forgive me, I’m off to drink myself into oblivion.”
I watched him go, planning to pay him a visit later, waving to his bully who waved back after a surprised pause. I needed to get Malcolm alone, without Dad, to ask the questions I needed to ask and not worry about hurting my father further. As for the man himself, I sat back in my chair, heart hurting but far more curious than ruled by pain than he or the Irishman who’d just left.
Maybe that would work to my advantage. Without years of grief and blame on my shoulders, I just might be able to offer them both insights they’d denied me all this time.
Don’t do that, Fee. Dad had enough regret to deal with. Judgment could take a hike.
“I’m pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with Teddy,” Dad said. “She gave me that impression.” Something he failed to mention in front of Malcolm, so clearly a sore point between them. Fair enough. “I think she was using him to get the information I asked for.”
Made sense. “Dad,” I said, “I understand why you didn’t tell me. It’s okay. But I want to help now. Please, let me help.”
He grinned suddenly, his old self in a flash of amusement tempered with that pride all over again. “I drove you away on purpose, kid,” he said. “Broke my heart to do it. Your mom and I agreed it was for the best, especially when you started talking about wanting to go to the academy.” Dad’s hollow tone was gone, replaced by love. “I wanted so much for you to come home, but you were out there, safe from what was happening here, or not happening. And I convinced myself it was for the best. I had so many talks with Mom about Marie, but she refused to tell me anything.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Then she died and you came home and all of a sudden you were at risk again.” He settled back into his chair, rocking a bit. “I couldn’t bring myself to chase you off again. All I could do was try to keep you busy and protected. But I wasn’t sheriff anymore and that damned fool, Pete Wilkins, went and got himself murdered in your back yard.” He laughed out loud then, rueful and obviously authentic when it reached his eyes. “I’ve never been so proud of you, my girl,” he said, “the way you refus
ed to quit. And I knew then I’d done you the worst disservice of your life, making you choose any path other than the one you were born for.”
I almost wept then and there, heart aching, knowing he was right. I loved Petunia’s, don’t get me wrong. But being a cop, investigating, digging into the truth… the passion I felt for it had nothing to do with being a busybody, a snoop. It was my calling and I’d missed out on it.
No time like the present. “That’s why you made me a partner in this.” I waved one hand around, indicating the room but meaning Fleming Investigations.
Dad nodded. “My small way of trying to tell you I’m sorry.” He exhaled deeply, and with it visibly released the tension bowing his shoulders. “If you want to find out what happened to Fiona, I’ll have your back. But Fee, it’s not going to be easy. And I can’t stress enough how dangerous.” He sat forward, elbows on his desk. “It’s time, I think, to set you free. Besides, you have Crew now, just in case.”
Okay, that was annoying. “I don’t need a protector,” I said, not meaning for it to come out that harshly.
Dad chuckled this time, winking. “Oh, I know,” he said. “Still makes me feel better knowing he worries about you as much as I do. And you’ve almost died how many times?” He said it lightly, but I could see the fear in him and, in that moment, let my reaction fall away, knowing how hard this had been for him, to finally allow me to be who I was despite his fear it would mean losing me the way Malcolm lost Fiona.
That alone made me want to find her even more.
***
Chapter Twenty Five
The last person I expected to run into when I left Dad’s office a short time later was the very man who had exited before me, but there he was, leaning against the side of the building, his hands shoved in his pockets, gray hair standing on end despite the shortness of the cut, Malcolm’s green eyes watchful and shadowed as he scowled when I paused next to him. He made no attempt to move, to stop me and I know I could have kept going past him, past the black sedan parked around the corner with his giant bully waiting by the back door to open it for his boss. Malcolm would have made no attempt to halt my retreat if I’d chosen to walk away.
I now understood no matter what happened, I was safe with him and wondered how he’d kept the secret, why he’d not told me everything before now. Until he opened his mouth and spoke when I chose to pause and wait with as much empathy in my face as I could muster for the man who had sworn to protect me when I was born.
“Hudson Harriet,” he said, surprising me. I’d expected further discussion of the other Fiona. I nodded as he grunted and straightened, hands still in the pockets of his jeans, button up shirt cuffs rolled to his forearms. Malcolm always had this air of casual danger about him, as if he had nothing to prove to anyone and I suppose he didn’t. “Thought you should know he’s been openly bad-mouthing that golfer you found keeled over.” Huh. “Claimed to be a super fan but spent all his time with me making the kind of remarks about Nethersole’s track record and his own loss of wagers that I’d be taking a peek into him, just to be certain of his motives.”
“We’ll make a cop out of you yet, Malcolm.” I meant it as a joke, as a weak attempt to reach him, to ease the terrible torment in his eyes. For a moment I feared I’d gone too far, that I’d overstepped even for me. But when the cloud rolled away from his expression and he grinned suddenly before bursting into a laugh that made me smile back, I knew I’d never fear him again.
“Hush your mouth, girl,” he said before winking at me. “Oh, and that washed-up pro at the course?” I nodded again. “Owes me. A lot. Bet on that young kid who’s kicking ass now but lost in the Santé Fe tournament, lost something fierce.” He seemed more himself as he leaned in and wrinkled his nose at me. “Something to do with cheating, don’t you know.”
Well now, that was very interesting information. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.” Why did I get choked up all of a sudden?
Malcolm blinked at me like I’d said a whole lot more. I felt something big pass between us, a wash of emotion that triggered me all over again, as if the connection my parents started when I was born finally found a place to land.
It had a visible impact on the Irishman who wiped at his mouth with one hand, green eyes wide before he nodded to me and turned, heading for his car without another word. I waved one more time to his towering bully—I really had to learn the guy’s name one of these days—who actually cracked a smile before tilting his head and wiggling his fingers at me on his way to the driver’s seat.
I held my place as the sedan pulled away before hugging myself hard, fighting a bit for breath, only in that instant allowing everything I’d learned to wash over me, through me, until I was able to relax and release the tension I’d carried since Dad told me last night he was finally going to fill me in on what I wanted to know.
I hadn’t intended to go to Crew’s office right then and there but found myself in the reception area as if my body knew where to take me when my overloaded brain just couldn’t handle the input. The kid behind the desk—was it Darren? David? Dylan?—looked frazzled and frustrated so I figured he wouldn’t last much longer so I didn’t bother to confirm. Instead, I waved my way by, saw his face tighten, then fall as he shrugged and let me go. Like he could stop me.
The swinging gate that marked the entry to the bullpen squeaked faintly as I pushed it aside, only looking up at the last moment to realize Jill wasn’t at her desk. Nope, but Robert was at his and he wasn’t alone, was he? Perched next to him like she was the queen of the sheriff’s office was none other than that tart of a meddling witch with a capital “B” I’d come to despise.
“Fiona.” Rose had the temerity to turn her nasty little pointed nose up at me. “Crew’s not here.”
Robert’s snarky grin made me want to smack it from his face. When Jill emerged from Crew’s office with a handful of files, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of me, I knew it was visibly apparent I was on my last, hair-thin nerve with the pair smirking in my direction and if I wasn’t careful I’d be the one charged with murder.
Oh, please, just let me get through the next five minutes without going on a rampage.
I pulled my deputy friend aside, doing my best to keep what I had to tell my fiancé from their ears, but caught in my peripheral vision as Rose prodded Robert up and out of his seat to join the conversation. Yup, she was the brains of that particular operation, no doubt about it and I did my best to ignore my cousin when he snuffled, tugging at his belt to hike up his pants so his rounded belly jutted even more aggressively than normal.
How could anyone be that gross? Just… ew.
I filled Jill in as quickly as I could on the argument I witnessed between Tori and Hudson Harriet and what Malcolm just told me, though I left out my source. She set aside her folders and took notes, Robert grunting when I was done.
“And who exactly gave you this information?” He sounded like he was trying to be commanding but missed the mark by a long shot. Like, so far off it was laughable if I wasn’t in the mood to make sure no one ever found his body. All the stirred up emotion with Malcolm and Dad had apparently left me in a less than patient frame of mind.
“My source is anonymous.” That wasn’t going to fly with Crew, but I was happy to tell him about Malcolm. Robert? Yeah, forget it.
Before my annoying cousin could express his dissatisfaction with my answer—his pig-like eyes squinting, that disgusting mustache of his wriggling like a dying caterpillar in its final throws of life—Jill grabbed my arm and guided me toward the gate and reception.
“Thanks, Fee,” she said, a pointed stare in my direction cutting off my already brewing retort to whatever it was Robert had to say. “I’ll look into this.”
Fine. Whatever. I left and headed home, hearing an argument starting behind me and choosing to do what Jill wanted—in other words, let her handle things. No way was I putting her in a position where she felt less than ever again and, from the sounds of
the fight brewing she’d found her personal power to the point she didn’t need my help to handle those two. And when I heard the main door of the building rattle behind me, I turned my head already halfway up the block to find Rose huffing her way out and to the street.
Which meant Jill gave her the boot and succeeded. Nicely done. Did a lot for my state of mind. In fact, I grinned over it all the way home.
I owed my friend a beer.
I was almost to the front door to Petunia’s when I received a text and, reflexively, checked it. Groaned and wished I hadn’t when I realized it was from Alicia and I was still a sucker, wasn’t I?
Please, she sent. I’m begging. I’ll do anything. Help!
Anything, huh? I’m holding you to that, I sent back before sighing my way up the steps to fetch Mom.
***
Chapter Twenty Six
One thing I noted about golfers, they were dedicated to practice. The near endless sound of whoosh-crack! echoed toward me from the near-by driving range in a monotonous drone of drivers hitting golf balls over and over and over again until I was about ready to throttle some of them with their own precious equipment.
The moment I arrived—Mom flatly refused to assist this time and I reluctantly accepted she was right I’d lost my mind to even consider running to Alicia’s assistance time and again—the young manager of the White Valley Lodge grabbed me and dragged me toward the food tent where a massive lineup waited. Her own staff looked harried, out of sorts and I realized it was organization she was lacking, not so much bodies.
Okay then. Organization I could handle.
Within an hour I had the three shifts of staff sorted, their tasks assigned and their stations working in at least passable efficiency, while Alicia ran off back to the lodge to deal with her own problems. Thing was, I was now in Mom’s state of mind when it came to this whole farce of a friendship I’d been doing my best to nurture. And while I was happy to be of assistance, it was pretty clear my help wasn’t going to change anything between me and Alicia or the fact she would always put Jared first.
