After arranging to pick her and Reggie up the next day at four-thirty, he went into the kitchen and said goodbye to his son. Then he was gone.
As she punched in Stacy’s number to cancel Friday’s plans, Adrienne sensed that matters were slipping from her hands. But only a little. And that didn’t scare her nearly as much as she would have expected.
* * *
ON TUESDAY WADE bought new clothes in preparation for his job. Aside from a sports coat and dress pants to wear to interviews, he’d neglected his wardrobe, if you could apply that term to a well-worn assortment of jeans, chinos, T-shirts and polos.
At lunch he arranged to meet a trio of high school friends. After they reminisced about sports and teachers, the conversation shifted to their families. One fellow was divorced with a little girl, another happily married without kids and the third living with a woman with whom he had two children.
They offered advice that ranged from the insightful—don’t rush closeness, children need a chance to bond—to the cynical—watch out for the woman, she’ll try to get her hands on your money. As if he had any. Wade departed little wiser than when he’d arrived. Still, he was glad to be back in town. Despite not keeping in touch with his friends since he’d left Safe Harbor, all those years of growing up together had forged a bond that would always be there.
The discovery that he’d missed Safe Harbor forced him to reflect on how hard it would be on Reggie to leave. Still, the boy was only six. If necessary, they’d go...but Wade would prefer if this job worked out.
And he couldn’t deny Adrienne’s role as a mother figure for Reggie. She bore little resemblance to her sister. More like Wade, she’d evidently been the responsible kid in a dysfunctional family.
Their ties to Reggie might keep him and Adrienne in close contact for years. That prospect pleased him, despite the potential for conflict. She was, in her way, a kindred spirit. In her less prickly moods, he liked her. Perhaps even during her prickly moods.
At his father’s apartment Wade was preparing to go out for his son’s birthday dinner when Daryl stomped in, smelling of motor oil even though he appeared to have washed. This morning when Wade had told him about taking the job at Fact Hunter, he’d merely nodded. Now, indicating a garment bag bearing the name of a men’s store, he said, “So what does the well-dressed detective wear these days?”
“Something dignified and low-key.” Wade hadn’t meant to leave his purchases draped over the couch. “I’ll put that away.”
“Whatever you bought, I’m sure it beats a blue jumpsuit.” Daryl must have left that at the garage, though, since he was wearing jeans and a loose shirt.
“Protects your clothes.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” While his father went into the kitchen, Wade hung his purchases in the front closet. Daryl returned carrying a beer. “Told the old man about your new position yet?”
“I’ll let him find out via the grapevine.” Wade suspected the agency’s receptionist kept in touch with her longtime boss. “I’d rather avoid him till he’s had a chance to get used to the idea.”
“Think you’ll live that long?” His father downed a swallow from the can before adding, “He should be glad you’re working in your field.”
“More or less.”
Daryl scowled at an oil stain on the back of his hand. “Look at me. A mechanic and a handyman.”
“Honorable professions,” Wade said quietly. “And useful.”
His father sank onto the couch. “Another year nearly gone. Glad my son’s back, but other than that...” The sentence trailed off.
Wade decided against mentioning his grandson. It was too volatile a subject when his dad was in a mood like this. Instead, being familiar with his father’s emotional patterns, he searched for a way to cut short what might become a spiral into depression—and heavier drinking. “What do you and Grandpa usually do for Thanksgiving? Maybe we can plan something.”
“Fight,” Daryl responded succinctly.
Wade hoped that was an exaggeration. “Every year?”
“We used to. Nowadays we just give it a miss.”
Too bad they’d quit trying. “Where do you eat, then?”
“They make pretty good frozen turkey dinners these days.”
“You’re not eating a frozen dinner on Thanksgiving this year.” Too late, Wade reflected how lonely it was, dining in a restaurant on holidays, which was why he usually volunteered at a charity kitchen. “Tell you what—I’ll cook. We can watch football and stuff ourselves.” He’d volunteer another day.
“I’d like that.” Daryl brightened. “And that means leftovers. They’re the best part. Well, almost.”
“What’s better than leftovers?”
“Pie,” his father said. “You hadn’t forgotten that, right?”
“If you don’t mind store-bought.”
“Fine with me.”
“It’s a deal,” Wade said. “Got a dinner date with my boy. I’ll see you later.”
“Later.” Daryl clicked on the TV.
Wade was glad he’d raised his father’s spirits. While he wasn’t sure how one baked a turkey, he’d figure it out.
Maybe he’d ask Adrienne. She ought to know.
Chapter Six
Although he’d once sworn never to work at Fact Hunter Investigations, Wade had a sense of homecoming as he climbed the steps shortly before 9:00 a.m. on Wednesday. He knew this office well from his visits over the years with Grandpa Bruce. It felt like familiar territory.
Not that he hadn’t enjoyed last night’s dinner with Adrienne and little Reggie, as well as the one-on-one toy-building session that had followed. Still, he’d been dogged by a recurring sense of being out of his depth.
Busted back to a rookie. Man, he hated that feeling. But new daddies had to learn the ropes, including—when he dropped Reggie off at eight—making nice with the babysitter and her family, who knew his son better than he did.
At the top of the stairs, a windowed door bearing the firm’s name opened into the outer office. The new owners had repainted and recarpeted, touches that were long overdue even if clients rarely visited.
One wall sported framed certificates, awards and commendations. Some had been earned by Mike Aaron during his stint as a Safe Harbor police detective and others by co-owner Lock Vaughn, whom Mike had referred to as his foster brother.
Ahead, behind the front counter, the middle-aged receptionist jumped up to greet him. “Wade! This is like old home week!” A graying divorcée who’d worked for Grandpa practically forever, Sue Carrera had tactfully kept a low profile a few days ago when Wade had had his interview.
“For me, too.” He gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re still holding down the fort.”
“They’d be lost without me,” Sue told him, with good reason. She’d always had an encyclopedic knowledge of the clients, handled bookkeeping as well as secretarial duties and spoke Spanish fluently, an asset in Southern California. “So not married yet?”
She also took a keen interest in other people’s love lives, Wade recalled. During his younger years he’d learned never to mention a romantic entanglement in Sue’s presence. “Nope.”
“I’ve married off both the owners.” She sounded as if she were personally responsible. “It’s your turn next.”
From the hallway, Patty Hartman—married name Patty Denny, Wade corrected mentally—swung into view. She wore a navy pantsuit that, except for the pink blouse peeping through the jacket, reminded him of a police uniform. That was clearly her comfort zone.
“Give the guy a couple weeks in town before he ties the knot, will ya?” she fired cheerfully at Sue. “Welcome on board, Wade.”
They shook hands. “Thanks for the tip about the job,” Wade said.
“Glad to have you. Not sure y
ou need a tour, but here goes.” Patty gestured down the hall. “Mike and Lock have private offices, while I use the report-writing room. I guess you’ll be joining me.”
“That’s what Mike said. He also mentioned I could do some work from home, which will be convenient when I have one.”
As soon as he paused, Sue spoke again. “How’s your little boy? You should bring him for a visit.”
“Good idea.” Wade planned to leave that for later, though. “I’m still figuring out how to be a dad. There are websites for stepfathers and parents of infants, but I haven’t found anything that covers my situation.”
“Afraid I can’t help there.” Sue had never had kids.
“It’s no big deal,” Patty volunteered. “From my vast experience with Fiona, all it takes is being patient, fitting into their life, realizing you don’t always have to be right and, let’s see, don’t let them pit you against the other parent.”
That was reassuring since Wade had made those same observations. “I appreciate the info.”
They all turned as the outer door opened to admit a powerfully built man about Wade’s height with thick hair in mixed shades from blond to dark brown. Squeezing through with his laptop case and a large pink-striped bag, he cast a startled gaze at the three observers. “I’m late, huh? Jordan had a little diaper accident. You must be the new guy. Wade, right? Lock Vaughn.”
Wade shook the hand that stretched out from amidst the various straps. He hoped the co-owner had washed it recently. “Glad to meet you.”
“I thought Erica took your kid to the hospital day-care center,” Patty said.
“Surgical nurses start duty at seven. Jordan wasn’t ready.” Frowning, Lock glanced down. “Oh, hell. I forgot to leave the diaper bag.”
This was a father after Wade’s heart. “I’m glad I’m not the only dad who feels overwhelmed.”
Lock seemed to be cogitating hard about this dilemma. “They’ll have to improvise till I can swing by at lunch. Erica’ll kill me. Maybe not. She puts up with a lot.”
The phone rang, summoning Sue to her desk. Unsure of his next step, Wade strolled behind Lock to the co-owner’s office. Where Mike’s had the tailored style of an executive domain, this room contained a plain desk, a filing cabinet and a couple chairs. Plus, on the walls, three paintings of the Grand Canyon at different times of day. “Cool art.”
“I shipped these from Flagstaff for the waiting room,” Lock said, setting the laptop on the desk. “Mike hung them just long enough to pacify my ego and then moved them in here.”
“Mike has a thing about being in charge,” noted Patty, who’d accompanied them. “You gotta hand it to him, though. He brings in the business and schmoozes nice with the corporate types.”
That fit Wade’s impression of his new boss—co-boss, really, although he was gathering that Lock didn’t throw his weight around. Back in Wade’s years with the local P.D., Mike had been a patrolman intent on moving up to detective. And so he had. Later, when he learned this agency was for sale, he’d seen it as a rare opportunity to have a bigger impact on the community, he’d mentioned at the interview. Wade wouldn’t be surprised if the guy had long-term political ambitions.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s this about you and Mike being foster brothers?” Wade hoped it wasn’t a sore subject.
Lock stuffed the diaper bag out of sight and input something to his phone—no doubt a reminder to drop it off. “I had a rough start. My birth mom turned me over to an adoptive couple who got hooked on drugs. I floated around foster care for a while till Mike’s family took pity on my obnoxious self. I proceeded to make their lives miserable during my adolescence, but they loved me anyway.”
“Mike was in foster care, too?”
“Him?” Patty said. “Not likely.”
“He had the good judgment to be born into a caring family who took in odd lots like me.” After a beat, Lock added, “Interestingly, once I moved back to Safe Harbor, I met my birth mom. She’s a volunteer at the hospital and friends with Erica, which meant I had the satisfaction of receiving an apology.”
“More than that. You guys are close,” Patty put in.
“Yeah, it worked out.” The tinge of irony was gone. “Renée—that’s my birth mom, Renée Green—never had any other kids. She’s a doting grandma.”
The air pressure in the room shifted. Wade wasn’t sure if it was the arrival of another burly man or simply the impact of Mike’s presence, but he knew instantly that the real boss had stepped in.
He pivoted to greet Mike Aaron. Despite his impressive height, the guy had a low-key appearance with his tailored gray suit, sandy hair and steely eyes softened by reading glasses. All the same, his cool gaze sent an unmistakable message: alpha male on deck.
“Welcome aboard,” Mike told Wade.
That required another declaration that he was glad to be there and another handshake. This one was so firm it almost hurt.
Patty slipped out of view. Lock sat down at his laptop.
Mike led the way to his office, where he handed Wade a printed document in a stiff cover. “Our policies and procedures.” With a trace of a smile, he added, “There’ll be a pop quiz later.”
“No problem.”
Policies and procedures, huh? While the guy was more up-to-date than Grandpa, Wade had the same uncomfortable impression of being put in his place. Well, get over it. Mike had a right to establish the chain of command.
A second folder followed. “Your first case. Suspected cheating wife to surveil.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Wade started out.
“Read the rules first.”
This guy was definitely cut from the same cloth as Grandpa. “I’ll get right on it after I read the rules.”
Mike chuckled. “Bruce trained you well.”
Wade suppressed the temptation to salute. “He did his best.”
In the report-writing room, Wade sat at one of three stations, each equipped with a computer. Filing cabinets and shelves neatly stacked with office supplies lined two walls, while a small window overlooked a nearby residential neighborhood.
Three stations. Mike was looking ahead.
From downstairs, rhythmic creaking noises caught his attention. Those must be the seniors at the Sexy Over Sixty Gym, or rather their equipment. Well, Wade could concentrate amid almost any sort of noise.
He opened the manual. Topics included guarding client confidentiality, obeying the law at all times, being completely honest with a client about what services they could and couldn’t provide and preserving evidence in case it was needed in court.
Although none of this was new to Wade, it brought home that his focus was on the client. That included not only individuals and companies, but also lawyers who might be defending criminal cases.
Mike was right to emphasize studying the rules. At work, no matter how prepared he felt, Wade had to guard against rookie mistakes.
By comparison, spending an overnight with his son didn’t pose such a challenge after all.
* * *
FROM 6:00 TO 8:00 p.m. on Fridays, Adrienne saw private patients at her office before her overnight shift in Labor and Delivery at the hospital next door. The evening hours accommodated working women, and the income helped pay off her medical school loans faster.
Tonight her last patient was Stacy. At six months of gestation, the triplets were growing well, with no signs of distress. However, in Adrienne’s opinion, their mom ought to quit trying to be superwoman and take leave from her job as Cole’s surgical nurse.
“I can’t imagine you enjoy standing on your feet at this stage,” Adrienne observed as she helped Stacy sit up on the examining table. “Cole should insist you get more rest.”
“He’s learned not to boss me around outside the O.R.,” her friend respo
nded. With her mischievous smile and curly brown hair, she could have passed for a teenager. “You’re right. I should put in for leave, but I’ll miss this place. I like being in the middle of everything.”
“Harper and I will keep you in the loop,” Adrienne promised.
“Hearing about stuff isn’t the same as being here,” Stacy said. “Like at lunch today Zora threw a divorce party in the cafeteria. Maybe this is petty of me, but I found it highly satisfying.”
Ultrasound technician Zora Raditch had stolen Stacy’s first husband, Andrew. Two years later Zora had caught him cheating with someone else. In view of his untrustworthy character, that might have seemed predictable to anyone else, but she’d been devastated. Later she’d rallied, and she appeared to be taking the divorce in stride.
“You’re remarkably tolerant of her.” Adrienne opened the door for her friend.
“Oh, I hated her guts for a while. Then I realized she did me a favor.” Stacy chuckled. “Andrew doesn’t deserve to belong to the same species as Cole. Speaking of questionable males, how’s it going with Reggie’s father? I was surprised you let him babysit tonight.”
Wade had shown up at Adrienne’s door a few minutes past five, slightly out of breath and, apologetically, in need of a trip to the bathroom. He’d been on surveillance all afternoon, he’d explained. Too discreet to give details, he’d simply said that most cases involved either cheating spouses or fraudulent disability claims.
With his hair rumpled and his shirt open at the collar, he’d been almost unbearably desirable. Also gratifyingly cooperative. When Adrienne provided a schedule and other directions, he’d promised to follow them to the letter.
She’d explained that Reggie was hyped up about the overnight visit and might prove a handful. “I’ll keep him busy,” Wade had promised.
Now Stacy awaited her response. “He’s not what I expected,” Adrienne said. “He’s behaved like a gentleman. Although I am a little nervous about this overnight business.”
“We’ll be happy to watch Reggie anytime,” Stacy offered.
The Surprise Holiday Dad Page 7
