To Catch a Thief

by Nan Dixon

  He was the weakest Cornell. Would his father have let a dog keep him from his mission? Would his brothers have ended up wounded, suffering massive headaches and dizzy spells?

  No. Because that wasn’t the Cornell way.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “If you have problems, you’ll call?” his mother asked.

  He made a cross over his heart. “Absolutely.”

  She listed the food she’d made and frozen. Then attached the list with the cooking directions to the freezer. “I popped over to the store, so you’re good for milk and other staples.”

  “Thank you.”

  She checked the time. “Cab should be here in a few minutes.”

  He started to stand.

  “You stay here.” She rolled her bag to the door.

  “I’ll walk you down.” He tried to keep the growl from his voice. “You’re my mother. I want to know that you’re safe.”

  “You are your father’s son.” She sighed. “Come on.”

  They took the freight elevator to the main floor. He’d never noticed how much it rocked. He leaned into the corner so his mother didn’t see him wobble.

  Keeping a hand on the wall for support, he led her to the entry. When had they put a bench outside the building? Excellent. He sat and waited with his mother. “Thank you for coming. For making all that food. For just being—you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s what a mother does.”

  When the cab pulled up, he pushed off the bench and opened the door. Luckily, the driver loaded the luggage. He wasn’t sure he could lift her case. “Safe travels. I love you. Say hello to Jax and Bart.”

  “I will. Love you to the moon and back,” she whispered.

  Sage chuckled as the cab pulled away. He tipped his head and the sun shot into his eyes.

  Mistake. Pain stabbed his brain. His eyes watered but he refused to let the tears drop. He was a Cornell. Stumbling to the bench, he collapsed.

  He had to gather his strength before conquering the trip back to his condo. He took in a deep breath. Another mistake. His cracked ribs ached from the damn mastiff. That pain took a back seat to his blooming headache. Apparently hitting the cement foundation of the house and taking a bullet hadn’t knocked sense into him; it had knocked something loose.

  He closed his eyes and leaned against the brick wall, listening. The Savannah River lapped the seawall next to the condo. Pedestrians filled River Street. The sounds of conversations and laughter washed over him.

  “You all right?”

  Damn. Sage jerked and the headache that had eased roared back. He’d actually fallen asleep. He opened his eyes. “Kaden? What are you doing here?”

  “Checking on you.” Kaden crossed his arms and his gaze took in too much. “Are you okay?”

  “I...just saw my mother off.”

  Kaden looked at his phone. “An hour ago.”

  “What?” He’d sat here for an hour?

  “She texted me.” Kaden flipped his phone so Sage could see the message.

  Unfortunately the numbers and letters swam. “What are you doing texting my mother?”

  “I agreed to check on you.”

  “Not necessary.” Sage took a breath and pushed up off the bench.

  “I promised.”

  Kaden kept pace as Sage used his keycard and headed inside the building.

  “Are you escorting me to my door?” Sage snarled.

  “Keeping a promise.” Kaden looked sideways at Sage. “How are the headaches?”

  Sage grunted. Talking and walking wasn’t easy.

  He punched the elevator button and leaned on the wall. “What’s the latest on the third man from the raid?”

  “He was spotted in Five Points so the Atlanta Bureau is keeping watch.”

  They stepped into the elevator.

  “Margaret must hate that,” Sage muttered.

  Margaret and Roger, the Atlanta agent-in-charge, didn’t play well together. Their divorce had been bitter. And Margaret had stolen Kaden from her ex when he’d worked a case in Savannah and fallen in love with Courtney. “I gather you were the liaison to broker that deal.”

  Kaden snorted. “Yeah. Those two need to learn to separate business from their animosity.”

  It took all of Sage’s concentration to walk from the elevator to his condo. When he arrived at his door, he pointed. “This is me.”

  Kaden didn’t take the hint and leave. Sage dug for his key and opened the door. Somehow the hallway from his door to the kitchen had grown. He let his shoulder brush the wall to keep from stumbling. He couldn’t show weakness in front of his mentor. Kaden might report that he wasn’t able to work. “I’d offer you a beer, but I’m not sure if I have any.”

  “Still on the pain meds?” Kaden asked.

  Sage shrugged. Let him guess the answer. If he was unbalanced now, what would happen mixing meds and alcohol? “Check the fridge. Mom stocked it yesterday.”

  Kaden headed to the fridge and didn’t witness Sage collapsing onto a kitchen chair.

  “Found one,” Kaden said.

  “Opener’s in that drawer.” Sage pointed. He had a water bottle from earlier. It wouldn’t look weird if he didn’t move.

  Kaden took the seat across from him. He tipped his beer bottle. “Here’s to your successful recovery.”

  Sage held up his water bottle. “I can drink to that.”

  They talked Bureau business. Cases. Sage kept up, but all he wanted to do was nap.

  Kaden finished his beer. His steel-blue eyes stared into Sage’s. “Why don’t you stay at my place? You’d have people keeping track of your recovery.”

  Sage hadn’t fooled him. Would he report to Margaret that he wasn’t able to work? “I’m good here.”

  “At least come to dinner tonight.”

  He could barely walk. How would he get to Kaden’s apartment? “My mother put together a bunch of meals. I think I’ll stay in.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the beer.” Kaden found the recycling and dropped the bottle in. “I’ll keep asking. I have to keep my word to your mother.”

  Sage grinned. At least he hoped it was a grin and not a grimace. “When I run out of food, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” A goofy smile covered Kaden’s face. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”

  Sage started to nod but the pain cranked up. “I can’t wait.”

  He dug up enough energy to walk to the door.

  After Kaden left, he threw the locks and grabbed the wall to stay upright. He’d gotten rid of his mother, but he couldn’t escape Kaden’s watchful eye.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “MAMÁ, MRS. HALVORSEN is bringing over sweet tea and cookies.” Their neighbor promised to visit with her mother while Carolina drove to Savannah.

  “Is this the interview with the witch?” her mother asked.

  Carolina inhaled. Her mother was losing her filters. “It’s with Abby Fitzgerald.”

  “She’s probably as uppity as her mother.” Mamá’s lips pursed as tight as if she’d eaten a lemon.

  “Then why did you hound me to apply for the job?” Frustration filled Carolina’s voice.

  “Because I want you to find out what those Fitzgeralds are up to.” Her mother’s blue eyes narrowed. “I want you to see where we should have been living if your father hadn’t died so young.”

  “I didn’t have to apply for a job to do that.”

  Her mother wrapped an arm around Carolina’s waist. “But if you get into the house, you could...pick up something for me.”

  “What?”

  “A...souvenir.” Her mother’s voice rose. “Something small.”

  “I can’t.” A shiver ran down Carolina’s spine. Her mother’s cancer was maki
ng her irrational.

  “For your mother?” Tears dripped from Mamá’s eyes.

  “I’m not a thief.” Had her mother stopped distinguishing right from wrong? “Why would you ask me to do this?”

  “Beau promised we’d live there.” Mamá paced to the window and back. “How could it be stealing if we should have lived in the house?”

  “Because we don’t.” Carolina’s voice was small.

  “Something little. Something they won’t miss.” Mamá’s words spit out so fast, they ran together. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I... I...this is an interview.”

  Mamá’s eyes were bright with tears. “I’m dying.”

  Pain swept through Carolina’s body like a crashing wave. A knock on the door kept her from agreeing. How could Mamá ask this of her?

  On the drive into Savannah she rehearsed how she would tell her mother she’d never had a chance to do what she’d asked. I was never alone. I was in the restaurant not the house.

  Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe her mother would forget their conversation.

  But for the last three days, all Mamá had talked about was Fitzgerald House. Carolina had finally applied for the job to stop her haranguing.

  She drove by the four-story mansion. Fitzgerald House. Resentment that her half sisters lived in such grandeur and wealth had her gritting her teeth. Why hadn’t her father taken care of her and her mother? Why hadn’t he acknowledged Carolina as his child?

  After parking in the back, she exhaled. She didn’t want this job. And she didn’t want to meet her half sisters.

  But bartending was the best-paying job she’d found and they needed the money. It would allow her to work the fewest hours and spend more time with Mamá.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t get the job. Great attitude for an interview.

  Carolina found a path that lead around the house and headed up wide, wooden steps. The double door was bright blue. She stepped into a soaring foyer and her heels clicked on the green-and-gold marble. In the middle of the space on an ornate round table sat a huge vase filled with flowers. Could that be Waterford? If she sold the vase, it might make her car payment for two months.

  “Can I help you?” A woman with strawberry blond hair stood next to a small desk. “Are you checking in?”

  “Oh, no.” Carolina chewed her lip. “I have an interview for the Southern Comforts’ bartending position. I was told to come here.”

  “Carolina Castillo?”

  She nodded.

  The woman held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Abby Fitzgerald.”

  Carolina stared. Her half sister. With Abby’s pale skin and her reddish-blond hair, they didn’t look alike. Were there any similarities between them?

  She was a few seconds too slow shaking Abby’s hand. “Hi.”

  “Let me find someone to cover the desk.” Abby moved down a hallway.

  Carolina took in a breath. This was a mistake. But she needed a job that paid more than minimum wage. Her mother’s credit card companies were demanding payment.

  “All handled.” Abby carried a tray with a sweating pitcher and glasses filled with ice. She led the way to a small parlor. “I brought some sweet tea.”

  Carolina sat. Abby poured a glass and Carolina took a polite sip. “O-oh. This is good.”

  “It’s my version of sweet tea with tweaks.” Abby winked. “And I don’t give away secrets.”

  Carolina froze. Did Abby know her secret?

  No way. If Abby knew they were related, Carolina wouldn’t be sitting there. “I understand the position is for a newly opened restaurant.”

  “We thought we could get away with only one bartender each night, but we need two.”

  “Congratulations,” Carolina said. Would Abby catch the sarcasm in her voice? Of course, Abby’s restaurant would be a success. Everything the Fitzgeralds touched turned to gold.

  “Why did you leave Nashville?” Abby asked.

  Carolina kept it simple. “My mother is sick. I needed to come home.”

  “I’m sorry.” Abby touched Carolina’s hand. “I understand. My family means everything to me.”

  “Thank you.” Family? Abby had no clue.

  How could her half sister understand? She had everything. Sisters. Mother. She’d had their father.

  Carolina had gotten stolen moments with Daddy. Now her mother was dying and she would end up alone.

  “Tell me about your work history?” Abby asked.

  “In Nashville, I worked at the Silo and Garett’s Bar and Grill.”

  “So why haven’t you done any bartending for a year?” Abby asked.

  “I was able to get a full-time singing job, so I quit bartending.”

  “Oh.” Abby asked questions about her experiences and Carolina relaxed and answered.

  A bell rang.

  “I called your references,” Abby said. “They were very complimentary about your work ethic.”

  “I think it’s important to do what you say you will do.” Unlike the father they shared.

  “I like—” The bell rang again. Abby frowned. “I’ll be right back.”

  She slipped through the pocket door, pulling it shut.

  Carolina stretched and walked to the window, staring across the street. In the square people either strolled or sat on the benches. Veils of Spanish moss hung from the oaks, shading the crowds. Her mother would love the view.

  She leaned against the windowsill and knocked over a small porcelain bird. A cardinal. There were four of them scattered on the sill. Four.

  She swallowed. It was so little. She picked it up. It couldn’t be worth much. Her fingers squeezed the bird.

  No. What her mother had asked her to do was wrong.

  Footsteps echoed outside the door. She hurried back to her chair. Blast. She still had the cardinal. She jammed it in her purse as the door slid open. She would put it back before she left. She snatched up her tea and sipped. Maybe the cool drink would chill the fire blazing across her face.

  When the door opened, Abby waved her over. “Would you like to see the restaurant?”

  “Yes.” Because she wanted to leave. Wanted to stuff the bird under the sofa cushion.

  But Abby never took her eye off Carolina as she joined her in the entry.

  Carolina couldn’t breathe. She’d have to...drop the bird somewhere.

  Abby walked next to her, spouting the B and B history. Carolina chewed on her lip. If Abby quizzed her, she wouldn’t be able to repeat anything she’d been told.

  They walked through a kitchen.

  “Is this the restaurant?” It was large, but there was a big table tucked in an alcove and a sitting area around a fireplace.

  “This is the B and B kitchen, for Fitzgerald and Carleton House.” Abby held open an outside door. “We remodeled the carriage house for Southern Comforts.”

  The heat and humidity weren’t the only reasons Carolina started to sweat through her shirt. The bird in her purse weighed on her shoulder like an anvil.

  Abby dealt with the restaurant door locks and Carolina walked into a gorgeous room. A wall of windows looked over the gardens they’d just walked through. Outside were tables. “Do these windows open to the patio?”

  “Aren’t they fabulous?” Abby tapped her chin. “I might eventually add a bar out there.”

  Right now the green umbrellas were closed, but Carolina could imagine them open and the iron tables filled with happy diners while soft music played.

  “This is our main bar.” Abby led her to the side of the dining room.

  Again, Carolina was overwhelmed. Her heeled sandals clicked across sand-colored tiles. The tables all had flowers and the tablecloths weren’t just white, but brought in the colors of the gardens: greens, pale pinks, reds, even lavender. It should have looked—garis
h. But the colors made her smile.

  The top of the bar was old wood covered with a thick layer of polyurethane. Brass hardware under the bar top sparkled.

  “Those were the carriage house doors,” Abby said. “Nathan used them for the countertop.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She ducked under the pass-through. It was the normal bar setup—taps, fridges, glassware hanging above and high-end liquor gleaming against a mirrored back wall. Two or three people could easily work back here. “This is a good setup.”

  “Because we’ve been so busy, the servers are waiting too long for their drink orders.”

  “That’s not good.” Shouldn’t there be people lingering over a glass of wine or having an early cocktail right now? “You don’t serve lunch?”

  “We do, but we’re closed on Mondays.”

  Carolina nodded. She wasn’t sure what day it was. Since she’d returned to Tybee, the days all blended together.

  “I have one more interview this evening,” Abby said, “but I want to make this decision fast. How soon could you start?”

  Carolina moved to the other side of the bar. “As soon as you need me.”

  Abby touched her shoulder. “Wonderful.”

  After discussing the pay, they left the restaurant.

  Carolina’s phone rang. “I’m so sorry.” Her face flamed. “I thought I shut it off.”

  “Take the call, we’re done. It was nice to meet you.” Abby shook her hand and headed back to Fitzgerald House.

  Carolina pulled out her phone. The cursed bird rattled against the case. “Mamá? Are you all right?”

  “I wanted to hear about your interview.”

  “It was good. And the pay is better than any job I’ve found.” Carolina sat at the nearest table. “Is Mrs. Halvorsen still there?”

  “She’s boring. I sent her home.” Her mother’s voice turned low and sly. “Did you get something for me?”

  “Mamá!” How was she going to put the small bird back?

  “They have everything!”

  “But...”

  Her mother sniffled. “I thought you loved me.”

  “You know I love you.” Carolina’s words rushed out. “You’re all I have.”

  “Then why are you only thinking of yourself? I thought I’d brought you up better. I guess not.” The phone clicked off.