Long Way Home

by HelenKay Dimon

  “This should be interesting.”

  She gave a quick nod to his right. “Couple in the process of breaking up in the corner booth. The body language on the woman is not good.”

  Since the lady looked ready to burst into tears, Callen wasn’t quite ready to be impressed. “Obvious one.”

  “Okay, the guy at the counter is contemplating taking the tip sitting two seats down before the waitress sees.”

  “The guy on the end?”

  She nodded. “He keeps eyeing it. Looks like he’s mentally counting it.”

  “Or he wants part of the muffin left over on the other guy’s used plate,” Callen joked, but he thought she was right. There was something. A vibe the guy gave off.

  And Callen knew all about the about-to-take-something vibe.

  “And I count four more concealed weapons, and I can’t even see the people behind me.” She leaned back in the booth. “Well?”

  “Impressive.” And it was. She had good instincts and didn’t sit back and wait to become a victim.

  “Daddy wanted his little girl to stay sharp and notice things.”

  Every time she talked about her father, love and respect poured off of her and filled her words. Callen envied that closeness. Didn’t really understand the concept of a healthy father-child bond.

  “Good instincts for someone in law enforcement.” He tried to keep the conversation light, because if they started talking about skills passed on by fathers, this conversation could go rapidly downhill.

  This time she motioned for the waitress. The poor woman came over. As soon as Grace said blueberry pancakes the waitress was off again—almost as if she wanted to race to the kitchen before Grace could change her mind. Callen got in a comment about remembering to pick up her tip on the counter, but he didn’t think the woman heard him.

  “It’s a shame I didn’t like the work,” Grace said once they were alone again.

  Even with the interruption he knew what she was talking about. “Tell me about that scar.”

  “The part about being stabbed in the back was true. I just happened to be undercover at the time.”

  He’d traced a finger over the small pucker of skin so many times. The first time he saw it he froze. Hearing about her being in danger made everything inside him clench with fury. Knowing that she’d likely been armed and hopefully had backup didn’t ease the flush of heated anger that overtook him every time he closed his eyes and imagined her bleeding out on the pavement.

  If the idea plagued him, it had to chip away at her. “Is that when you left?”

  “Yeah, but I wanted to go long before that. Being in the FBI takes a special kind of personality.” She kept running her fingers over the side of her water glass. “I thought I had it, but I didn’t.”

  “At least you had that time with your dad.”

  “He taught me a lot. He was a good man.” She glanced up again and her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “You and Charlie probably didn’t have much bonding time.”

  That’s where she was wrong. He’d had months—years—of uninterrupted time with Charlie. Hours where he would play a sick and twisted game of training Callen. He wanted Callen to notice things, too, but not to be safe. To be ready to pounce.

  Sitting there listening to her work around the room brought back a rush of memories. Most of them not good. All of them centered on Charlie training him to become the perfect partner.

  She wanted to know the real man. Time to give her a peek.

  “The woman at your nine o’clock recently lost her husband.” Callen didn’t move his head or signal. If he closed his eyes, he could describe everything about the woman, right down to her shoes. “You can tell because of the way she rubs the wedding ring.”

  “When did you—”

  “Eats alone, and at her age, it’s a good guess. Seems dressed up, like heading out of the house is important to her.”

  He noticed because the skill was ingrained and he did it without thinking. That’s the kind of sick fuck he was, and in that moment he needed Grace to know that. Needed her to see what they were passing on to a kid so maybe she could help him make sure the con man gene stopped with his generation of Hanovers.

  “The younger-guy scam would likely work best on her. Bring back memories of a son or grandson. You do something to get her attention. Stage a fight, pick something up off the floor pretending you think it’s hers.” A kick of self-loathing hit him, and he let the anger seep into his words. “You need to get in and build trust. Charm her and get her interested.”

  Instead of running away or being repelled, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “What are you telling me?”

  He pulled back, because he needed to finish this. Wanted her to understand. He didn’t deserve comforting, and she would see that soon.

  “The take has possibilities. The watch is expensive, and the diamonds look real.” Callen could hear Charlie’s voice in his head as he did the rundown. “You’d need a closer look, but she might have money at home or assets that could be accessed once you trick her into giving up the password.”

  “Callen.”

  “Eating alone suggests no family, or at least none nearby. Use that. Don’t push. She needs a friend, so be the confidante.”

  This time Grace grabbed his hand. “Stop.”

  Instead of pulling back, Callen kept holding on. She provided a lifeline, and he needed that right now. “There’s more, but you get an idea of what Charlie taught me on the road.”

  “He took you with him on his scams.”

  “All across the country.” He’d never admitted that before. As punishment he remembered the faces of the people he’d stolen from and the women he’d tricked long enough for Charlie to move in.

  “There’s never been any proof.”

  But Walker knew. On this, the guy had been dead right all along. Maybe that’s why Callen hated him so much. Walker saw underneath to what had happened before. Other people accused Callen, and he’d been questioned by the police many times, either when someone assumed his name automatically meant he was a con man or when they were digging for information on Charlie’s antics. Nothing stuck, but the taint was there.

  “Charlie used me in bait-and-switch moves and to lure people in. Younger women he wanted to sleep with, older women he wanted to steal from.” The days blurred in Callen’s mind, but the cons didn’t. “Have a cute kid go in and help or whatever and the con got easier.”

  “How old were you?”

  It was tempting to take the excuse but he didn’t. “Old enough to know it was wrong, and I did it longer than I should have. Into my teens.”

  Her thumb rubbed over the back of his hand and the softness in her eyes stayed at the comforting level, never tipping to pity. “But you were just a kid.”

  “And most of the people we conned were nice, just like that woman probably is.” Of all the regrets, and he had a truckload full, the damage he did to innocent people stayed with him. Maybe he didn’t actually take the jewelry or forge the names, but he played a role, and that was a stain he couldn’t wipe away.

  She kept holding his hand. Stayed leaning in close. “Why are telling me this?”

  “You wanted to know more about me.”

  She shot him a nice-try look. “That’s not really it, is it?”

  Sometimes she was a bit too smart. Made it hard to slide anything by her. “I haven’t told my family, though they clearly suspect. Telling brings it back and makes it real and reminds me that for some period of my life I let that be okay.”

  “But you’re telling me now.”

  “Yeah.” He had a sudden need for her to know everything.

  The instinct rose up on him before, back when they lived together, and he beat it back. It was a form of se
lf-preservation. But having her track him down and fight to stay in his life chipped away at the wall he’d built to separate his past from the people it might hurt.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.” She squeezed his hand even tighter. “You didn’t have a choice.”

  “I ran away at fifteen. I could have left before that.” He dropped her hand then, because it was too easy to talk when she sat right there, touching him. “Guess that’s where the running started.”

  He’d never looked at his tendency to pull up stakes that way before, but he did now. The haze lifted and he saw his choices so clearly. It would have been easy to dump this on Charlie’s doorstep as well, but the truth was Callen ran because it felt cleansing to get out. To leave and not look back. He’d always been so damn good at it . . . until her.

  “This is Charlie’s sin, not yours.”

  A part of Callen loved that she wanted to whitewash his mistakes and see him as this good man. Life would be easier if he could sit back and let her think that, but that wasn’t fair to her or their baby. “It’s my legacy, Grace. It’s part of who I am and what we’re saddling this kid with.”

  She dropped back hard against the booth. “Are you telling me you want out?”

  “No.” Despite everything she did and he did, everything he was and how much of a mess he’d made of his life, he didn’t.

  “Okay.” Between the narrowed eyes and the way she made the word last for something like ten syllables, her skepticism wasn’t exactly a secret.

  “I’m telling you the truth so you can make an informed choice about whether you really want in.” He blocked out the other diners and the hum of conversation, the smash of a glass as it hit the floor a few feet away and the chiming bell over the door. Nothing mattered but her and her answer.

  “I do.” She didn’t hesitate. The words came out easier than ordering her breakfast, as if all he had dumped on her fell right off of her.

  Callen tried to think of another way to explain those years. Maybe he wasn’t clear, or maybe she needed time for it all to sink in. “God, Grace. Think about it and be sure.”

  “I am. You’re stuck with me.” She downed the rest of the water in her glass, then looked around the diner.

  He put his full glass in front of her. Hell, he’d give her just about anything right now. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes. You and my pancakes.” She stared right at the kitchen as if willing to the food to arrive.

  And that was it. She listened and moved on. No dramatics, no blame. Most importantly, no demand for explanation and no pity.

  Maybe he’d been right all along and she was the one woman for him. Almost made him feel sorry for her.

  “Five more minutes and I’m sending you in there on pancake recon.” The grumbling suggested the waitress had a lot less than five minutes to make this happen.

  Since he felt like he’d dodged not just a bullet but a rocket, he was fine with getting her whatever she wanted. “Deal.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After a whirlwind breakfast followed by a long afternoon lounging around in bed and an even hotter night between the sheets with Callen, Grace stood in the middle of the backyard at Shadow Hill and stared at a pile of dirt. Well, it had been dirt. Now, thanks to the rain, she’d call it mud.

  A cleansing downpour had ushered in cooler temperatures and turned the lawn into a squishy mess. The good thing about Oregon and the weather could be summed up in two words: rain boots. She had a cool bright yellow pair and modeled them now with a pair of jeans that were quickly moving into the too-tight-to-breathe category.

  “We dug the first hole under the swing set.” Callen hung on to one of the poles as he kicked loose gravel around with the tip of his not-so-cute work boots.

  She touched the chain and the seat, then looked up at the shiny posts above her that seemed to hold the whole thing together. “Why is this thing even here?”

  “Looks like Grandma Nanette, or Charlie on his own, used the new concrete pad underneath to hide the jewelry stolen from Sophie’s aunt and other people.”

  Grace now knew the other woman’s name and didn’t scowl when she heard it. “Sophie is Beck’s girlfriend, right?” Not Callen’s, which was the only thing that mattered to Grace.

  “And Beck jackhammered the hole.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure why that mattered but if agreeing or humming or whatever else kept Callen talking, she’d do it.

  He’d been on a sharing binge for the last two days. With the difficult news about his exploits with Charlie out in the open, at least between them, something inside Callen seemed to break open. The careful reserve cracked a bit.

  He talked about the good memories, the ones that included growing up with his brothers. He walked her though the series of jobs he’d held and how he’d squirreled away money, then used it to save Shadow Hill from foreclosure.

  Every word, every sentence, pointed to a fact she already knew—he was a good man, solid and true, despite Charlie’s efforts to turn him into a delinquent. Callen denied it and didn’t believe it, but she knew. In time she’d get him to see it.

  “If you knew Beck’s allergy to actual hands-on work you would understand how huge it is for him to pick up a tool of any type.” There was no heat in Callen’s voice. More of an amusement that he’d somehow drawn a courtroom-type brother.

  “Clearly he loves her if he’s willing to work up a sweat for her.” The whole thing struck Grace as romantic. Sounded to her like Beck was a bit more outwardly affectionate, like Declan.

  Callen scoffed. “Yeah, that’s the test.”

  She laughed, enjoying the time with him. The ordinary moments. She almost hated to risk it all with more questions, but the piles of now-mud kind of demanded more explanation. “Why dig holes? Why not get a safe and store everything there?”

  “Charlie always thought the police were on the way. He probably decided if he dug holes on his mom’s property it would be harder to have it all found and taken away.” Callen shook his head. “He didn’t really have much respect for law enforcement or its power.”

  “If it’s any consolation, the law enforcement folks I know didn’t like him either.” And that was enough about Charlie. Too much conversation about him and the darkness might move back into Callen’s eyes. She didn’t want that. “So once you dug one hole you decided to randomly dig twenty others?”

  “More of Beck’s work.” Callen exhaled as he glanced around the yard. “He looked over property records and matched them up with old maintenance records to figure out where specific work projects were done on the property. We plotted out from there. Also used metal detectors.”

  Sounded like a huge undertaking. Part of her wondered why they even looked. It had to be easier not to know and be able to deny. Now that they were finding everything, there would be questions.

  Still, the idea of a master con man hiding expensive jewels in the yard had an odd Hollywood ring to it. “Unbelievable.”

  “Apparently the rotten apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Damn Charlie. Talking about him brought them full circle. Before she could make it clear she’d had it with Callen tying his life to Charlie’s scams, they got company. Declan, Kim and Leah crossed the yard from the back porch.

  Knowing what she knew about Callen’s mother, Grace felt an odd kinship with her. What Callen saw as betrayal Grace viewed as a woman trying desperately to keep her family together.

  Grace watched the older woman, so handsome and refined-looking, and saw how she looked at Callen with a motherly longing in her eyes. No way did that woman ever abandon him or give up on him. And Grace was intimately familiar with how sometimes it felt easier not to talk to Callen about things in his past.

  “Hello.” Grace called out the greeting and was immediately surrounded by Hanovers and Hanovers-to-be-someda
y.

  “Finally!” Leah walked over and hugged Callen. “I thought you’d never fill Grace in. At least not without me kicking your butt.”

  He hugged her back. “You’re so dramatic.”

  When their mom frowned, Leah filled in the gaps. “You missed the fight the other night when Callen wouldn’t come clean about what we found all over the lawn.”

  “It is a little scary to confide in people.” His mom’s voice bobbled as she said it.

  Declan moved a little closer to her. “I mean, I know we’re matching up stolen objects from photos we took and photos in the crime files, but this looks pretty damning after all those years of insisting we didn’t know where anything was.”

  Grace’s gaze traveled from Callen to his mother. They looked at each other, then glanced away. She’d never seen a man more in need of the love of a mother or a woman more open to giving it. The wall between them had to come down, but Grace had been busting through Callen-constructed roadblocks nonstop and needed a break.

  But she still had some questions. After all, the FBI and police had been all over Charlie’s records for years and this property specifically without any luck. “How did you figure it all out?”

  “The swing set was the clue,” Declan said.

  “And Beck is a miracle man.” The admiration was clear in Callen’s voice.

  The show of respect from Declan made sense to her. Surprise came in Callen’s closeness with Beck, the youngest brother being a lawyer. Callen had gone out of his way to preach his disdain for the legal community. Not that she could blame him, in light of the questioning he’d undergone over the years.

  Still, the idea of these three different men being so bonded did intrigue her. She was an only child and had missed this type of camaraderie growing up. “I need to meet him.”

  Callen nodded. “Soon.”

  Kim approached Grace and laid a soft hand in her hair. Just brushed it off her shoulders. The move, so sweet and genuine, had Grace biting back a sigh. She’d missed this growing up as well. Her father tried, but nothing replaced the loving hand of an invested mother.