His Secret Son

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Joni hadn’t called yet, but brushing aside any objections, Dirk insisted on driving his nephew home. The boy collected an overnight bag and got into the front seat. After fastening his seat belt, he sat up straight, arms wrapped around the bag. Jeff had the strong Peterson jaw, Dirk noticed, and Joni’s well-defined mouth, but the innocent gaze of a little boy.

  As he started the car, he wondered what they could talk about. Dirk had dealt with officials from Beirut to Bangkok, but eight-year-olds were another matter. Until now, Jeff had been nothing more than a name and a picture on a Christmas card.

  “What grade are you in?” he asked.

  “Third.” The boy stared through the windshield.

  “What are you studying?”

  “Cursive.”

  “They teach cursing in school?” Dirk turned left from Canyon Vista onto San Bernardo Road.

  “No, that’s writing instead of printing!” The boy must have seen his smile. “You’re being silly, aren’t you?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “That’s funny,” the boy said.

  “Then why aren’t you laughing?”

  “I mean, it’s funny that you made a joke,” Jeff explained. “Dad never made jokes, just Mom.”

  Lowell wasn’t known for his sense of humor, Dirk had to admit. “Do you expect me to be exactly like your father just because I’m his brother?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeff said wistfully. “I don’t have a brother. If I did, I think he’d be like me.”

  “You can never tell.” They went by the printing plant and crossed the bridge over Viento del Mar Creek. Following the map his grandfather had drawn, Dirk passed the high school and turned into the Canyon Acres development. “Can you help me find your street?”

  “Sure.” The boy proceeded to give clear directions, sounding very grown up.

  Dirk wondered why he felt so intrigued by his nephew. Maybe it was because, with his bright turquoise eyes, Jeff seemed almost a mirror image of what Dirk had been like at his age.

  “I wonder who that is.” Jeff pointed to a maroon sedan parked in a driveway. Startled, Dirk realized they’d reached Joni’s house, which was set partway up a hill.

  He parked by the curb. “You don’t recognize it?”

  The boy shook his head, then indicated the open front door. “Mom never leaves the door like that. Flies could get in.”

  Disquieted, Dirk slid from the car. Jeff hopped out beside him. He didn’t want to call the police without good reason. Still, the situation didn’t look right, and with her injuries, Joni was especially vulnerable.

  He couldn’t leave Jeff in the car while he investigated, though. The safest place would be with him.

  “Stay behind me,” Dirk said, and the boy obeyed. In single file, they walked toward the house.

  Chapter Five

  The footsteps grew louder. Whoever had invaded Joni’s home was in the den, almost at the kitchen....

  The lanky figure of her boss appeared in the doorway. “There you are,” he said.

  “Basil!” Joni nearly chuckled in relief, except that the sallow skin and shadowed gray eyes of the public relations director evoked solemnity rather than amusement. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “The staff would never forgive me if I didn’t give you this.” He held out a purple chrysanthemum plant.

  “Thanks. It’s lovely,” she said. “I’ll just set it on the table.” He handed it over without speaking.

  With his long silences and elliptical comments, Joni’s boss wasn’t exactly Mr. Personality, but she liked him. And she respected his ongoing struggle as a recovering alcoholic.

  She knew it was up to her to keep the conversation going. “I heard you trying to get past the nurse at the hospital. She certainly put her foot down.”

  “She was just doing her job.” Expressionless, he gazed around the kitchen.

  “I’m going to try to come back to work on Monday.”

  “That would be fine.”

  Seconds ticked by on the wall clock. Before she could think of anything else to say, Joni heard a rapid, light tapping at the back door. With relief, she recognized the knock as Celia Lu’s.

  “My neighbor.” She went to answer it. After a moment’s pause, Basil followed.

  “You are home!” The dark-haired woman patted Joni’s shoulder and edged by her into the utility hall. “I come in? Oh, who is this?”

  Joni made introductions. Basil gave Celia’s hand a perfunctory shake and the two stood eyeing each other like a pair of dogs both trying to stake out the same territory.

  “Joni needs to rest,” Basil growled at last.

  “I think, if she needs something, maybe I can help!” Celia chirped. Ignoring the man’s fidgeting, she plied Joni with questions about the hospital and the doctor’s orders and the police investigation.

  They sat in the living room, listening to her account of what had happened, but she had nothing new to offer. If a third person had been involved, Celia hadn’t seen him.

  On the street, a car stopped. Joni had her back to the window and didn’t realize anyone was approaching the house until Celia said, “It’s your son. And a handsome man! Do I meet him before?”

  “I certainly haven’t,” Basil growled. “Who is that?”

  Joni turned and, through the translucent curtain panels, watched Dirk edge toward the house at an angle. A tan turtleneck sweater and tailored dark blue slacks emphasized the muscular contours of his chest and the slimness of his hips.

  With the light behind him, he couldn’t see them, Joni realized. “It’s my brother-in-law.”

  Even if she hadn’t known Dirk was trained to handle danger, it was obvious from the tight positioning of his arms and body and his repeated, quick scans of the area. Behind him, Jeff mimicked Dirk’s movements, even cocking his head the same way. It was as if the two had spent years together.

  “I didn’t know,” Celia said. “Lowell had a brother?”

  “He lives overseas.” Irrationally, Joni was glad Dirk had come. Just the sight of him made her feel safer.

  “I’ll be going, then.” Basil stood up. “Don’t let the chrysanthemum sit too long before planting. It’ll get root bound.”

  He stomped outside, passed by the startled Dirk with barely a nod and headed for his car.

  “A strange man,” Celia said. “I hope he does not visit often.”

  “He won’t need to. I plan to go back to work as soon as I can.” Joni reached the front door as her son bounded up the steps. She caught him in a hug, which he accepted with less wiggling than usual.

  “What was Mr. Dupont doing here?” Jeff asked from below her chin. “We thought it was a stranger! Why did you leave your door open? Oh, hello, Mrs. Lu.”

  Somehow Joni got through the next few minutes, making introductions and polite conversation until Celia reluctantly departed. Jeff wandered into the den to play video games.

  Throughout the encounter, Dirk’s eyes swept the living room as if it held a secret that he intended to extract from it. Concentration gave his face the intensity of a wolf’s.

  “You can’t find my decor all that interesting,” she said when they were alone.

  “What?”

  “I got most of this stuff at a thrift shop,” Joni pointed out. “What’s so fascinating?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “I always inspect my surroundings. It pays to be alert.”

  “I know you do business in emerging nations, but surely they can’t be that perilous! Not people’s living rooms anyway.”

  He shifted on the balls of his feet like a wild creature uneasy at finding itself indoors. “Exposed electrical wires can kill. So can a snake in search of a dry place to sleep.”

  “What fun,” Joni said dryly. “We don’t have to contend with any of those threats around here, thank goodness.”

  He started to laugh, then sobered. The amusement evaporated from Joni’s mood, too, as she realized the irony of her remark, given
what had happened to Lowell.

  That reminded her about the knife. She was accustomed to keeping her own counsel, but she didn’t have enough experience to evaluate how she should handle this situation. Besides, Dirk of all people had a right to know the truth about his brother’s slaying.

  “I want to show you something,” she said. “I need your advice.”

  “Mine?” A dark eyebrow quirked.

  “Dirk, I don’t know much about evidence. Or murder investigations.”

  He regarded her assessingly. “Are we playing helpless, Joni?”

  The man certainly knew how to irritate her! “Is it playing coy to need a second opinion?”

  She hadn’t realized he was moving toward her until his muscular frame halted only inches away. “You could be trying to win me to your side. It’s an old tactic, Joni. Ask my advice, and I may start to feel like we’re allies.”

  There was no point in beating around the bush with this man. “If we aren’t allies, what are we?”

  He grinned. “That’s more like it.”

  “More like what?”

  “The attitude I would expect from the woman who kicked my brother out when he did her wrong.”

  “I didn’t kick him out,” Joni admitted. “I kicked myself out. Otherwise, why would I be living with thrift-shop furniture while he kept the mansion?”

  “You could have fought for it. Most women would have.” Dirk reached out and brushed a long wisp of hair from her cheek. His touch was gentle and oddly possessive.

  Joni wanted him to touch her again and wished she didn’t. In her confusion, she spoke more forcefully than she’d intended. “I never felt comfortable in that house anyway. It belonged more to his housekeeper than it did to me.”

  “You might have insisted on a settlement. After all, you were the injured party,” he pressed.

  “Lowell provided for Jeff,” she said.

  “Yes, I know. He bought this house for him,” Dirk said. “That was the only way you would accept it.”

  “You do very thorough research,” she conceded.

  “I hope so. Now show me your evidence.”

  There was no hint of indulgence in his tone, which was fine with Joni. She liked directness in a man. Even brutal honesty was better than manipulation.

  Maybe that was why she’d put up with Lowell as long as she had. At least she knew where she stood with him even if that place wasn’t particularly elevated. Or, rather, she’d believed she knew where she stood until the day Kim called.

  “It’s in the kitchen.” She led the way, keenly aware of Dirk’s heat radiating against her back.

  The man had a gift for dominating his surroundings. Dirk might be less flashy than his brother, but he had more real strength.

  No wonder the two hadn’t gotten along. Lowell could never bear to be upstaged.

  “There.” Joni indicated the knife on the counter.

  Dirk’s lips pursed as he studied it, mentally measuring its size and design. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the dishwasher.” She clicked her tongue. “After I ran it Stupid, huh?”

  “The police should have checked.”

  “They probably did. It wasn’t in the cutlery tray; it was half-hidden under some glasses. I didn’t notice it myself until too late.”

  He scowled. “It’s sloppy work, nevertheless.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t change the facts,” she said. “Now that the knife’s been washed, I’m going to have a hard time proving it’s been sitting here all this time, aren’t I?”

  “Are these the only knives you have?” He indicated the cutlery block.

  “No,” she said. “I picked up a few odds and ends when I was living in an apartment, right after the separation.”

  “Where are they?”

  She opened a drawer. “Here. But the police probably checked it when they went through the house.”

  As Dirk shifted past her, she caught the scent of expensive soap and, beneath it, a hint of something feral. Without warning, prickles of desire ran along her skin and her nipples stiffened.

  Joni didn’t want to feel anything for this man and yet she found his nearness intensely pleasurable. So pleasurable that she had to back up several steps for her own peace of mind. From the den came the pings and screeches of a video game. The reminder of her son’s presence brought her down to earth.

  Dirk examined the contents of the drawer without handling anything. “Most of them are different makes, but there’s a paring knife that’s the same.”

  “It’s the department store’s house brand,” she said. “Lots of people have them.”

  “So the murder weapon could have come from the drawer even if it didn’t come from the block,” he reasoned.

  “I didn’t have another knife that size,” she protested, then had to add, “I don’t think.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “Not one hundred percent. But if I were in a hurry, I would’ve grabbed one out of the block, not poked around in a drawer.”

  His gaze returned to the knife on the counter. There was a long pause; she could almost see wheels turning inside his head as he mulled over the implications of this discovery. She tried to hold still, to give him time to think, but her head felt suddenly light It had been foolish to remain standing this long, Joni realized as she caught hold of the counter to steady herself.

  Dirk grasped her arm. “Have you eaten lunch?”

  His face tilted down, his well-defined mouth inches from hers. At close range, the contrast between his thick dark hair and shocking blue eyes struck her as intensely sensual. If she weren’t careful, she might lift her mouth and taste him.

  Taking her by the shoulders, Dirk steered her to the table. Blurrily, Joni noticed that, by the wall clock, it was 1:35. “I had coffee.”

  “That’s a great lunch. What do you plan to have for dinner—iced tea?” He opened the refrigerator and peered inside.

  “I forget to eat sometimes,” she admitted.

  He removed a loaf of bread, a package of turkey slices and some condiments. “You don’t think much of yourself, do you?”

  “What is this, instant psychoanalysis?” Joni said, bristling. “Lots of people forget to eat.”

  “Lots of people don’t also many my brother.” Pulling out a cutting board, Dirk set to work. “I loved the guy—hell, when I was a little kid, I practically worshiped him—but he could be a real pain. Herb told me how he put you down all the time.”

  She rested her chin on one palm. “We were a mismatch. I guess when he proposed, he saw something in me that wasn’t there.”

  “He knew exactly what he was getting when he married you. Mustard?”

  “Yes.” She nodded distractedly. “What was he getting, since you seem to have it figured out?”

  “A beautiful woman who thought so little of herself that she would put up with his arrogance,” Dirk said. “Exactly what he needed, and not an easy combination to find.”

  “I’m not beautiful,” Joni protested. “And I’m not a pushover, either. I didn’t put up with his playing around.”

  “Kim DeLong forced the issue by phoning you.” Dirk layered tomato and lettuce onto the sandwich and sliced it into two triangles. “Is this enough food?”

  “Plenty.” As she accepted the plate, Joni discovered that she was ravenous. The glass of orange juice that Dirk handed her disappeared almost as fast as the sandwich.

  What he’d said about Lowell rang true, although it bothered her that this stranger had more insight into her marriage than she did. Still, Dirk had known his brother a lot longer.

  “About the knife.” He straddled a chair next to her. “You’ll need to give it to the police as soon as possible.”

  “Even though it won’t do any good?”

  “It could help your lawyer create doubt about your guilt,” he suggested.

  His words echoed through her mind with eerie unreality. Legalistic maneuverings sounded so foreign to h
er ordinary life. “Do you know if they’re going to file charges?”

  Dirk tapped one finger on the surface of the table. “I hope not.”

  “Because you think I’m innocent, or to spare Jeff?” Joni caught her breath. Why had she brought up the delicate subject of their son?

  “Herb asked me to find out what really happened, for Lowell’s sake,” he said quietly. “And I guess for Jeff’s sake, too.”

  Jeff’s, but not hers. “Does Herb think I might have killed Lowell on purpose?”

  “My grandfather loves you,” Dirk said. “Therefore, he believes the truth will exonerate you. He lacks confidence in local law enforcement, and I don’t blame him.”

  “He asked you to investigate this yourself?” she asked. “How will you do that?”

  “Discreetly.” Leaning back, he propped one long leg on a chair. “I’ve started going through Lowell’s papers and talking to people, trying to determine his state of mind and why he would attack you. But this business with the knife makes me wonder.”

  “Wonder what?” she asked.

  “Wonder if I’m taking the wrong tack.” His air of concentration deepened. “The assumption has been that you killed Lowell, and the question is what he did to provoke it. Whether he forced your hand, and if so, why?”

  “But now?” His answer mattered more than she could say. More, perhaps, than she could bring herself to admit.

  “If you were calculating and devious, you might’ve gone out today and found a duplicate knife.” Dirk was assessing the possibilities as if she weren’t there. Joni supposed she should be offended, but instead she welcomed his objectivity. “Considering that you just got out of the hospital, that seems unlikely unless you have an accomplice or you bought the knife in advance. In either case, you would have planned a better alibi.”

  “So, by default, you think somebody else did it?” she asked with a touch of irony.

  “Did they?” Cobalt eyes fixed on her. “You ought to know, Joni.” He reminded her of a detective holding himself apart from the scene. Yet she had the feeling he was leaning toward her side.

  “The murder weapon wasn’t my knife.” Her head still felt woolly, but at least it had stopped spinning. “I didn’t take a knife outside, of any shape or size. Dirk, I didn’t even know anyone was out there. I went out to the patio to put Jeff’s bike in the garage.”