Lawman's Redemption

by Marilyn Pappano

  He could put her on a southbound bus, or drag her onto an airplane, or simply call her mother and demand that she come and get her. He could even turn her over to social services. After all, a man had no obligations to his ex-wife’s child.

  But if she was his child, too…

  “I, uh…I can’t get off early today,” he went on, his gaze fixed somewhere around her hands, resting on the tabletop. “Reese is gone, and one of the deputies called in sick today, so we’re shorthanded. I was wondering…if maybe you could…” He drew a deep breath, then met her gaze. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  She smiled a bit. “There’s no shame in asking favors. Everyone needs help from time to time.”

  “Not me.”

  “Ha. You need help right now, and the reason is on her way back here.” She didn’t need to look to know that Les was returning from the bathroom. The central focus of virtually every diner’s attention was enough to tell her.

  In a rush, Brady blurted out, “Will you keep an eye on her this afternoon?”

  “See? That wasn’t so bad.” She watched as Les circled the next table, then pulled out her chair. “I’d be happy to.”

  “Redneck goobers,” Les said as she sat down. “They should keep their looks to theirselves.”

  “Aw, come on, Les,” Hallie gently chided. “If you didn’t want people to look at you, you wouldn’t dress in a manner guaranteed to make them look.”

  The kid gave her a scornful look, then scanned the menu. “Jeez, did I forget to mention that I’m a vegetarian? And you bring me to a freakin’ steakhouse? Don’t you know what red meat does to your body? To say nothing of the fact that consuming animal flesh goes against the laws of nature.”

  “Animals eat animals in the wild,” Brady muttered.

  “Some of them even eat their young,” Hallie said with a teasing smile. “What kind of vegetarian are you? Vegan? Ovo, lacto or lacto-ovo?”

  Les’s expression turned suspicious. “What do you know about vegetarians?”

  “Honey, I live in California, where I used to give parties for hundreds of people with menus that allowed for every dietary restriction you could possibly think of.”

  “I’m lacto-ovo. I eat ice cream. And cheese. And ranch dressing.”

  “So you could have a salad, a baked potato, some veggies and dessert.”

  “Yeah, I could.” Les looked from her to Brady. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  Hallie looked at him, too, curious about the answer he would give.

  His cheeks flushed just a little under his dark skin, and he answered with a frown, “We’re…friends.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  His flush turned to a deep crimson blush, and he opened his mouth twice without getting any words out.

  “If he is,” Hallie said, “it’s none of your business. In fact, if he isn’t, it’s none of your business.”

  “I bet he isn’t. Sandra says he’s dreadfully lacking in social skills. She says he never had a clue how to make a woman happy.”

  And Sandra was a deceitful, scheming, lying witch, Hallie thought snidely.

  The waitress took their orders while dividing her surreptitious looks between the three of them, then returned almost immediately with drinks and salads. When the silence had dragged on interminably, Hallie nudged Brady under the table, then nodded slightly toward Les.

  He raised his brows, then gave a little shrug. “So…what grade are you in, Les?”

  “Tenth.”

  “Do you like school?”

  “Jeez, what kind of moron would I be if I said yes to that?”

  This time Hallie nudged her under the table. Les scowled in response, then grudgingly said, “No, I don’t like it, but I’m good at it.”

  After another awkward moment, Brady asked, “Do you still live in the same town?”

  “The only moving we do is from one man’s house to another. You think Sandra would consider moving away from Marshall City when she’s got the only Marshall grandchild in existence?” To Hallie, Les added, “The whole damn town’s named after his family. His parents practically, like, own the place. Can you believe it?”

  Interesting. And yet he hated the entire state of Texas, where this town was located, and seemed more alone than anyone she’d ever met. Apparently, Sandra wasn’t the only one who’d broken his heart.

  “Do you ever see them?” he asked stiffly, his gaze gone cold and hard again.

  “Sometimes,” Les replied with a careless shrug. “But not without Sandra.”

  “Good.” Brady breathed the word so softly that Hallie barely caught it, but she couldn’t miss the muscle twitching in his jaw or the way his fingers gripped his fork as if he might grind the stainless steel to dust.

  Very interesting.

  The rest of the meal passed in similar fashion. When they left the restaurant, Hallie gave a soft sigh of relief. She liked Les, and obviously she liked Brady, but the tension radiating from him after that mention of his parents had been unnerving, as had being the center of attention for everyone else in the restaurant.

  They walked back to the courthouse in silence, then stopped out front. “I have to go back to work,” Brady said, avoiding looking at either of them as he spoke. “Hallie’s offered to keep an eye on you until I get off.”

  “I don’t need a baby-sitter,” Les protested.

  “Aw, come on,” Hallie said. “A few people have been known to actually find me pleasant company.”

  A half frown, half pout settled on the girl’s features, pulling the bar through her eyebrow askew. “Sandra said you’d dump me on someone else the first chance you got.”

  Hallie slid her arm through Les’s. “Let me guess. Sandra doesn’t work, and she devotes every waking moment to taking care of you.”

  “Well, you’re right about the not working part.”

  Hallie started walking toward her car and gave the kid no choice but to come along. “Brady, I’ve got Neely’s cell phone,” she called over her shoulder. “Give us a call when you get off.”

  “Hallie.”

  She glanced back, then disentangled herself from Les. “My car’s the blue Mercedes. Want to wait over there? I’ll just be a minute.” She strolled back to Brady, who hadn’t moved a step.

  “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. What are…friends for?”

  Again his cheeks turned pink. “I really appreciate this.”

  “I know.” She smiled ruefully. “You haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of your deep, dark secrets, have you?”

  The look that came into his eyes was bleak and made her regret the question. “No. I don’t guess I have.” After a moment, he shook his head as if to clear it. “I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be around.” Impulsively she squeezed his hand, then walked away. When she reached her car, Les was leaning against it.

  “Nice car,” she said. “Adam has one just like it.”

  “Who’s Adam?”

  “Sandra’s current husband.” Then her features shifted fluidly into a scowl. “She was right. He doesn’t want me around. But that’s okay. I don’t give a damn.”

  “That’s not fair.” Hallie unlocked the car doors, then slid behind the wheel. “You dropped in out of the blue. Any man would need an adjustment period, but especially one as private as your father.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Not long.” But she’d wager she knew him better than anyone else in town, if not anyone else, period.

  “You know he’s got money?”

  Hallie backed out of the parking space and into the street, then turned onto Main. “Truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought.” If she had, she probably would have guessed he had some income other than his undersheriff’s salary. He’d commented on how little deputies were paid, and yet he drove a late-model pickup truck that probably cost more than most houses in town.

  “If you’re not after his money, th
en what?”

  Hallie took advantage of a red light to study the girl, then gave a shake of her head as she drove on. Her mother had had way too much influence on this child. She hoped Brady let her stay around long enough to counteract some of it.

  Following Stella’s directions, she drove to the Tucker house, pulled into the driveway five minutes before her appointment with Marlene Tucker and shut off the engine.

  “Is this where you live?” Les asked as they got out.

  “Not at the moment. But I might rent the place.”

  “It’s kind of shabby.”

  “Of course you would think so, being part of the family your whole town is named after.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “Don’t be such a snob.” Hallie climbed the steps to the porch and took a seat on the swing. When she patted the space beside her, Les grudgingly followed her up, but sat in a nearby rocker instead.

  “You ever take those things off?” Hallie asked, gesturing toward the headphones around the girl’s neck.

  “When I take a shower and when I sleep,” she replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Other than that, no. This way I’m always ready when adults decide to talk to me.” She slid her hand in the outside pocket of her backpack, and a moment later music blared from the headphones. With a smug smile, she turned it off again. “So…what’re you after with Brady?”

  “I’m not ‘after’ anything,” Hallie said. “We’re friends. I like him. I think he’s a good, honorable, decent man—” she grinned wickedly “—who just happens to be drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Huh. If you say so.”

  “What does your mother tell you about your father?”

  “She only talks about him when she’s between husbands or mad at me. Sometimes she says she never should have married him, and sometimes she says she never should have let him get away. He was her first husband, and she was real poor until she married him. She hated being poor.”

  “There are worse things in the world, like being unhappy. Being sick. Having no friends or morals or decency.”

  Clearly the conversation bored the child. “Where do you live in California?”

  “Beverly Hills.”

  “Do you, like, know any movie stars?”

  “A few.”

  “How do you know them? Are you rich?”

  Hallie stood up as a station wagon turned off the highway and parked behind her car. “My ex-husband is a producer. He’s rich.”

  “Well, hell, it’s real easy to talk like being poor don’t matter when you have money,” Les scoffed before Hallie shushed her.

  Marlene Tucker was in her seventies, Hallie estimated—white-haired, pink-cheeked and polite enough to hide any dismay she might have felt on meeting Les. Squinting through her glasses, she studied Les’s hair after the introductions were finished. “The style doesn’t do much for me, but I like the color. What’s that called?”

  Les looked far more accustomed to negative reactions to her appearance than positive. She self-consciously touched her hair, then shrugged. “Royal Passion.”

  “Don’t you know that would open my husband’s eyes wide, if he came home and found me sporting a new Royal Passion ’do?” With a great laugh, Mrs. Tucker unlocked the door, then led them inside.

  Contrary to Les’s pronouncement, the house wasn’t at all shabby. It was simple and cozy and had wood floors, a stone fireplace and a kitchen straight out of the fifties. The floor plan was straightforward—living room across the front, dining room and kitchen on one side, two bedrooms on the other and a bathroom in the middle. It was maybe one-tenth the size of her house in California, and she thought it was great. Without hesitation, she traded Mrs. Tucker two months’ rent for the house keys, then stood on the porch and waved goodbye as the old lady drove away.

  Feeling a wonderful sense of satisfaction, she turned to Les. “You want to help me pick out some furniture?”

  The girl put on a scowl as fierce as any her father managed. “I hate it when grown-ups ask if I want to do something when it’s clear I don’t have a choice.”

  “No, you don’t, sweetie,” Hallie said, patting her cheek. “So put a smile on and bear it.”

  Brady might as well have taken the afternoon off, for all the work he’d accomplished. It was hard to concentrate on anything when he kept wondering which one of Sandra’s stories was a lie. Was Les his daughter? If she wasn’t, exactly what were his obligations to her? If she was, what kind of changes would that make in his life?

  And what did Hallie think of the whole mess?

  Not that it mattered. She was only in Buffalo Plains for a few weeks. Even if she were sticking around, Les was only in town for a few weeks, too. And even if Hallie were sticking around, it wouldn’t be with him. He didn’t want a relationship, and she didn’t either, and…

  Hell.

  Reaching for the phone on his desk, he dialed Neely’s cell phone number. Hallie answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, this is Brady. Are you ready for me to pick up Les?”

  “Anytime’s okay. We’ve had a pretty good afternoon. I didn’t have to beat her once.”

  “What?” he asked sharply.

  There was a moment’s silence, then she said, “That’s a joke, Brady. We’re at Yesteryear. Do you want me to bring her by the courthouse? Or I can take her to your house, unless you don’t want me knowing where you live.”

  “I live on Cedar Street.”

  “Hmm. I still don’t know. So what’s the plan?”

  There was a rustle of noise in the background, then he heard Les’s voice. “Tell him I invited you to dinner.”

  “You did not,” Hallie murmured.

  “Hey, you want to, like, have dinner with us?” Les asked.

  “There. See, I did, too.”

  “Anyone want to talk to me?” Brady asked dryly.

  “I’m just awaiting your instructions,” Hallie replied.

  He liked the sound of her voice, and he was grateful to her for taking care of Les all afternoon, and he hadn’t spent more than five minutes alone with her at lunch. Maybe an invitation to dinner was in order—especially since it would delay his being alone with Les. “Why don’t you take her to the house? Then—here’s a great idea—you can stay and have dinner with us.”

  There was another brief silence before she answered. “You don’t have to provide me with food. I can drop her off and go back to the motel.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

  “Well…”

  “Of course she’ll stay and eat,” Les said loudly.

  “The address is 128 East Cedar. It’s the last street when you’re headed south out of town, on the east side of the highway.”

  “Okay. We’ll be there in a little bit.”

  He said goodbye and hung up, then leaned back in his chair. In the center of his desk mat was a yellow sticky note with an area code and phone number. It was Sandra’s number, but he hadn’t found the nerve to call it yet. If she really was in Mexico, as Les had said, calling would be a waste of time. Even if she wasn’t in Mexico, she’d lied to him so many times in so many ways that he wouldn’t believe her if she told him the sky was blue.

  So either way, calling Sandra was pointless. There was only one way to find out beyond a doubt if Les was his daughter—DNA testing—and for that he needed her mother’s consent or a court order, since he doubted Sandra would give her consent.

  Maybe if he paid her enough.

  And if the DNA proved he wasn’t her father, how would that affect Les? And if it proved he was, how would she feel, knowing he’d required proof before he could want her? No matter what the outcome, she was the one with the most to lose.

  He didn’t know if he could be the one to take it away from her.

  He stared at the phone number a moment longer, then picked up the note and stuck it in his wallet. Then he grabbed his Stetson, cell phone and pager and left.

  He made a stop at the grocery sto
re, where he kept telling himself people weren’t paying any more attention to him than usual. But when he pushed his cart up to the cash register, and the checker and the bagger both clammed up and turned shades of pink, it was hard to believe their whispers hadn’t been about him.

  Great. So he got stared at when Hallie or Les was with him, and now he was going to get stared at when they weren’t.

  When he pulled into his driveway, the causes of his sudden notoriety were sitting on the porch and laughing. It was an amazing sound in a place that never heard laughter or soft, feminine voices.

  “Ah, there’s something satisfying about a man who knows his way around a grocery store,” Hallie said, rising from the rocker to take one of the bags so he could unlock the door.

  “I take it Max didn’t?” He pushed the door open, then stepped back, holding the screen door, so she and Les could enter first.

  “Max didn’t even know regular people were allowed in grocery stores,” Hallie said as she passed him. “He thought only housekeepers and cooks could walk through those doors.”

  “Les?” Brady prompted.

  Looking sullen, she got up and clomped across the porch and inside. She stopped in the middle of the living room, looked around, then muttered, “I hate your house.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Eyes sparking, she whirled around to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged as he closed the door, then started toward the kitchen, where Hallie had gone. “You’re your mother’s daughter.”

  “I’m not like Sandra!”

  “Yeah, right.” He walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. Hallie was unpacking the groceries in the bag she carried, laying them out on the counter and not looking at him.

  He set his bag down next to hers, then rested one hand on the counter, one on his hip. “Go ahead and say it.”

  She didn’t pretend she had no advice to offer. Once the bag was empty, she neatly folded it, then looked up at him. “Be a little patient, would you?”

  Had he been impatient? Probably. Had he known comparing her to Sandra wasn’t a good idea? Of course. Did he know what an obnoxious response yeah, right was under any circumstances? Absolutely.