Then he thanked Parker, they all thanked Haubert for his help, and it was time to go.
The nine plus hour flight was long and lazy, and Miranda spent most of the time vegging out, nuzzled against Parker’s shoulder. And watching Fanuzzi do the same on Becker’s. She felt so happy for them.
The plane had just landed at Hartsfield airport under the setting Georgia sun when Miranda’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket.
My first date. It was a text from Mackenzie. With an attachment.
Miranda sucked in her breath.
Parker was on his feet, pulling down their suitcases. He eyed her with concern. “What is it?”
“Mackenzie sent me a picture of her first date.” Miranda couldn’t help grinning as she thumbed to the first one.
There they stood in front of the white fireplace in the Chatham’s living room, Mackenzie looking her beautiful classic self. Her shoulder length dark hair was brushed in a pretty style. She wore a breezy pale blue top, beige culottes, and strappy sandals. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She really liked this guy.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, the boy had on a checkered gray short-sleeved shirt, dark jeans, and tennis shoes. His long curly dark hair nearly covered his shy-looking features but Miranda recognized him as the kid who’d been hanging around the skating rink where Mackenzie coached Wendy nearly every day.
Timmy.
They had gone to a movie, the text told her. A romantic one. Wow. Didn’t say much else. Miranda couldn’t wait to get home and get the details.
As they shuffled out of the plane and went through customs, she passed her phone around and let Fanuzzi coo over the photos. Becker just grinned. Parker had an odd look on his face.
They were through customs and at last rolling their suitcases down the long airport corridor to the terminal when Miranda’s phone buzzed again. Again she pulled it out.
Date photos. This time from Wendy.
She thumbed to the first one. Iris with her arm around her daughter in the Van Aarle’s living room. Wendy with her new duo-colored dreads, looking happy in her pretty multi-colored new dress.
Where was the guy? Miranda thumbed to the next photo. There he was.
At the sight of it she stopped short right in the aisle. Behind her someone cussed and she absently motioned for them to come around as she shuffled to the side of the corridor.
“What is it?” Parker asked.
“What’s wrong, Murray?” Fanuzzi echoed.
Miranda put her hand to her mouth and stared down at the photo. An orange T-shirt with some sci fi logo, wrinkled khaki shorts, another pair of tennis shoes. The long curly hair nearly covered his face but she could tell who it was.
She held the phone up. “It’s the same guy.”
“What?” Fanuzzi’s shriek of surprise turned passing heads.
Parker took the phone, frowned down at it. “You’re right.”
Fanuzzi took it next, swiped back and forth. “It sure is.”
“Yeah,” Becker said craning to see over his wife’s shoulder.
They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment.
They guy Wendy had dated was Timmy.
“Maybe the girls know,” Becker offered.
Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe he’s a brother,” Fanuzzi said. “A twin.”
Parker was quiet, his face reflecting his silent concern.
Miranda’s phone buzzed again. A new text.
“It’s from Mackenzie,” she told them and read it out loud. “OMG. I can’t believe it. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.” Uh oh.
“Sounds like you were right, Murray,” Fanuzzi said.
Miranda put her hand to her forehead. She was exhausted, jet-lagged. She couldn’t deal with this now.
Suddenly her phone rang.
She hesitated a moment then answered. “Hello?”
It was Colby Chatham, Mackenzie’s adopted mother. Miranda listened to her litany.
“Okay,” she told her. “Okay. I’m at the airport. It’ll be a little while…No, Colby. Really, it’s okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What?” Parker asked when she hung up.
“That was Colby. Mackenzie just found out about Timmy and she’s pitching a fit. I told her I’d come over and…hell, I don’t know what I can do.”
“We’ll think of something,” Parker said, no doubt sounding more confident than he felt. “We’d better hurry then.”
“Do you have a car?” Fanuzzi asked.
“We’ll take a cab.”
“We have ours in Gold Reserve parking. It was part of the deal I won. C’mon. We’ll all go together.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
It was after ten when they rolled onto the Chatham’s elegant drive, a few miles away from the Parker estate, in Becker’s five-year-old Honda—with Miranda and Parker stuffed into the back seat. The iron gates stood open like welcoming arms and the majestic white stucco house with the clay tile roof glowed warmly before them in the lamplights.
Silently they got out, headed for the front porch, rang the bell. Miranda could hear female voices arguing inside.
This was not going to be a picnic.
Colby came to the door herself, looking frazzled, though in her elegant way. She had on a cream-colored pants suit with a simple gold strand around her neck. But the worry lines in her face were deep and there were even a few strands of her short dark gray hair out of place.
She exhaled in relief when she saw Miranda. “Thank God you’re here.”
“Okay that we came along?” Fanuzzi asked.
“Certainly. The more the merrier.” Colby stepped aside for the party to enter, relief and embarrassment battling in her eyes. “Please, all of you, come in. We’re in the living room.”
Miranda made the three turns down the hall that she now knew as well as her own home, and stepped into the Chatham’s cathedral-like living room. It was a huge space done in creams and pastels, and filled with tasteful pottery, a huge floor rug with a restful design, soothing landscapes, and lots of happy family photos across the mantelpiece. Through a tall arch on the opposite side of the room she could see the curving staircase to the upper floors.
Mackenzie was on the end of the frosty blue couch, tissues scattered around her, more in a box on the glass coffee table. Her body was thin, but sturdy. A natural skater’s build. She was barefoot and wore a matching shirt and shorts outfit in a demur dark blue pattern. Her thick ebony hair hung over her face.
As soon as she saw Miranda, Parker and the rest of them, she sat up straight, abandoned the tissue and wiped her face with her palms. She was trying to look cool, but only succeeded in smearing her makeup.
She honed in on Miranda. “Mother. I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I was in the neighborhood.” Miranda strode across the room and plunked her butt down on the other end of the couch. Cut to the chase, she decided. “I hear you’re having some boy trouble.”
Mackenzie’s eyes went wide. She turned and glared at Colby. “You told her?”
“She figured it out. She is a detective, you know.”
Mackenzie spun back to Miranda. “How?”
Make it quick. Like pulling off a band aid. “You sent me pictures of your date. Wendy sent me some of hers. Same guy.”
Mackenzie stared at her, her deep blue eyes the same color as her own, filling with tears. “I can’t believe she did that to me. I hate her.”
Miranda felt awkward. She loved both of these girls. Reaching out, she put a hand on Mackenzie’s knee. “Are you sure Wendy knew Timmy asked you out first?”
Mackenzie pulled away. “Of course, I’m sure. I told her I was going out with him. She even helped me pick out what to wear. Something plain and ordinary while she got a new dress for her date. The bitch.”
Colby gave Mackenzie a stern look. “I warned you about that language, young lady.”
Mackenzie only
pushed back her hair and sniffed.
Miranda’s head started to hurt. That didn’t sound like Wendy. Not anymore, anyway. She and Mackenzie had been getting along like sisters for months now. But then, sisters could be pretty mean to each other.
Fanuzzi trotted over and sat on a nearby ottoman. “It’s okay, honey. This kind of thing happens to us girls sometimes.”
Mackenzie straightened her shoulders, eyes flashing. “It’s never happened to me before, Mrs. Becker. And I won’t let it happen again.”
What did that mean?
Colby smoothed back a stray strand of her hair. “She’s cancelled Wendy’s skating lessons. She refuses to continue her training. Wendy has an event coming up next month. Iris is beside herself.”
Wendy’s mother had become very supportive of her daughter’s figure skating.
Mackenzie shot her adopted mother a furious glare. “She did this to me and you expect me to keep working with her? To keep helping her?”
Parker walked over to the girl, perfect composure oozing from his pores, and laid a gentle fatherly hand on her shoulder. “It’s called turning the other cheek,” he said calmly. “It shows you’re the bigger person.”
Mackenzie jerked away from him and rose to her feet, her small body trembling with rage. The tissue in her hand was a hard ball. “I don’t want to be the bigger person. I want Timmy. And I want a friend who isn’t a liar.”
And with that, she turned and ran out of the room and up the tall winding staircase. A moment later they heard her bedroom door slam.
“That went well,” Miranda sighed.
Colby raised her hands and dropped them at her sides in defeat. “She’s been like this ever since she found out.”
Fanuzzi caught the woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, Colby. My kids are still young but I’m not looking forward to when Callie gets to be this age.”
“I’d like them to stay young forever,” Becker said half to himself.
“I did raise a teenage daughter,” Parker offered. “All I can tell you is it gets better eventually. You just have to ride out the rough spots.”
No wonder he had so much patience.
The doorbell rang and Colby went to answer it, muttering to herself about unwanted guests at this time of night. She returned a few minutes later with two guests in tow. Whether they were unwanted remained to be seen.
Dressed in pale peach running shorts and a white top, Iris Van Aarle ushered a pouting Wendy into the room. The girl was in jeans and held her arms tightly around a rumpled T-shirt she’d obviously just thrown on. Or maybe that was the latest teen fashion. But her face was twisted in youthful defiance, the expression going well with the jumble of her dreadlocks.
“She’s come to apologize,” Iris announced.
Wendy rolled her eyes. Then she looked around the room. “Why are all of you here?”
Convincing apology.
“We came to help, Wendy,” Parker said in his fatherly tone.
Wendy put her hands over her face. “This is so humiliating.”
“I am sick of this nonsense,” Iris said to her daughter. “Vicious texts going back and forth. Screaming and yelling and slamming doors. I’ve had enough. I want this settled tonight.”
Talk about tough love.
Wendy lifted her chin and raised her hands toward the classic chandelier overhead in a dramatic martyr like gesture. “It wasn’t my fault. It happened at the last minute. Timmy went out with Mackenzie and didn’t like it. So he asked me out. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”
Miranda studied the girl she’d once thought was her daughter. She’d had a rough time. Much rougher than Mackenzie. But still.
“You could have talked to her about it first,” she said.
Wendy let out a loud groan. “It was just one date.”
A door banged open overhead and footsteps pounded on the stairs.
“Is that her? How dare you come over here?” Mackenzie was a quarter way down, hanging over the railing, glaring at Wendy.
Wendy moved over so she could see her better and shook her hands at Mackenzie. “You think I want to be here? My mother is making me apologize.”
Mackenzie glared at her. “How do I know that’s true? How can I ever trust you about anything ever again?”
“Wendy,” Iris warned.
“Okay. So I apologize. So there.” She put her hands on her hips in a defiant dare.
Mackenzie made a bitter face at her. “Apology not accepted.”
“You’re just jealous because Timmy likes me and not you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“That’s what he told me.”
“You bitch, you.”
“Mackenzie,” Colby snapped.
The girl ignored her. “You two-timing, deceiving little bitch. I hate you.”
“I hate you, too. And I’m deceiving? I’m not the one who’s looking for her real father behind everyone’s back.”
Mackenzie sucked in a loud breath. “I told you that in the strictest confidence. How dare you say it in front of everyone? I will never speak to you again.”
And once again she ran upstairs and slammed the door.
Miranda stared after her, completely stunned. Slowly she turned back to Wendy. “Is that true? Mackenzie is looking for her real father?”
Wendy looked down at her sneaker, poked at the rug with it. “She told me that a couple weeks ago. She asked me for tips how to find him on the internet. She made me swear not to tell you. She said you wouldn’t help her.”
That was more than a month ago. Mackenzie had mentioned looking for her father but Miranda had assumed the girl had lost interest. She’d been wrong.
Colby reached for Miranda’s arm. “I didn’t know about this at all, Miranda. I promise.”
“I know you didn’t, Colby.”
“Oliver and I will take her computer privileges from her right away.”
Miranda nodded. But the damage might have already been done.
Eyeing Miranda with concern Parker turned to his hostess. “Colby, Iris. I really don’t think we can do any more about this tonight. Why don’t we all sleep on it and see what we can come up with in the morning?”
“You’re right, Wade. I’m so sorry to drag everyone out here tonight.”
“It’s all right,” Miranda told Colby as they all headed for the door. “That’s what families are for.”
Real families who loved you and cared about you. Not a rapist who was nothing more than a sperm donor. Somehow, she’d have to convince her daughter to drop this search.
They all said goodbye and Miranda trudged back to Becker’s Honda feeling bone weary. As Parker opened her door and she got inside, she wondered just how she was going to do that.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
It was after midnight when Fanuzzi and Becker dropped them off at the Parker mansion, saying they’d think about what to do about the girls tomorrow. Everyone needed a good night’s rest.
Miranda drug herself up the mahogany staircase, took a quick shower and fell into bed without even thinking about unpacking. She barely felt Parker’s lips against her neck.
But she smiled at the intense comfort the sensation gave her. Then she drifted off.
For a long while Parker lay awake in the dark, watching his wife sleep. Her hair, her face, her lean form. The wounds, both outside and in, she bore so nobly.
He loved her so. Now more than ever.
He thought of what they’d just been through in Paris. What Dave had been through. What Joan had been through. He thought of Miranda’s courage in going after Yanick alone. He thought of the risk he’d had to take in the Catacombs. Thank God all was well now. Thank God they were back home all safe and sound.
But would it always be so?
No, he knew better than that. When you take such risks over and over again, eventually your odds ran out. Odds were one day one of them would come home alone—to bury the other. If these past few
days in Paris hadn’t made that clear, nothing ever would.
He felt his resolve grow firm in his chest, like sedimentary rock over the earth’s crust. He had already made the decision. All that was left was to act on it. To end Parker and Steel Consulting before the worst case scenario happened.
But he couldn’t do it outright. Not with his feisty, headstrong wife. He’d have to taper down. Take easier cases. Cases without so much danger. Let Miranda adjust slowly.
She would come to see the wisdom of it in time.
He thought of Miranda’s old cell phone locked away in his office at the Agency. Who had been sending her those messages? He had to get to the bottom of that. He thought of Wendy Van Aarle’s words tonight. Mackenzie had been searching for her father. Her real father. The man who had raped Miranda fourteen years ago.
Could there be a connection? Probably not. It was too much of a stretch.
Nonetheless, it was worth looking into. He would start on that in the morning.
And without his wife’s knowledge, he would begin making plans for their next case. There would be no surprises next time. He would make sure of that.
Leaning over he kissed her cheek. “I love you, Miranda Steele.”
She murmured quietly, warming his heart.
Then he pulled up the covers, settled in, and went off to sleep.
THE END
Thank you for reading Zero Dark Chocolate, the fifth Miranda and Parker mystery.
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Zero Dark Chocolate (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 5) Page 24
