“I don’t know,” Dylan said, his voice tight. “Maybe it is just not caring enough to be careful. But...”
He was out of his depth here, Liam thought. Way out.
“He won’t talk to me,” Dylan said. “Used to be I couldn’t get him to shut up, but now he won’t tell me anything. All I know about today is he cut school again, wasn’t there when I went to get him. So I started looking. This was the third place I came.”
Liam thought for a moment before saying, “Ria’s here. Would he talk to a woman?”
“Ms. Connelly’s with you?”
An undertone in his voice made Liam grimace inwardly. Well, that just added to the hypothesis that I’ve got a crush on the teacher.
“She’s waiting back there. She didn’t want to...intrude if it would make things worse.”
Dylan shook his head. “No. She’s okay.” He glanced at his brother again. “And maybe he would talk to her. She’s good with kids. I’ve seen her.”
The way he put that, it was clear Dylan no longer put himself in that kid category. With reason, it would seem.
At Liam’s gesture, Ria walked quietly toward them. Cutter shifted position, leaning harder against the boy, as if he somehow had assessed the addition of another person might upset a delicate balance within Kevin. But after another wary glance, Kevin went back to petting the dog.
Liam explained quickly about Dylan’s fears. Ria listened, her expression growing more concerned by the moment.
“Oh, Dylan,” she said, and there was so much warmth and empathy in her voice Liam thought it just had to be soothing to him. “No wonder you haven’t been yourself. You’ve been carrying this, and alone.”
Dylan did seem almost relieved to have shared the burden. “I thought he was just acting out, but...”
“What about your father? Does he realize what’s going on?”
Dylan grimaced. “Kevin hides it. Besides, Dad’s no use. He’s out of it and mad at the world all the time.”
“Understandable,” Ria said, still in that warm voice that soothed. “You didn’t just lose your mother. He lost his wife. And now he has to face raising you two without her.”
“Yeah, I get that. Really, I do, because I know how much I miss Mom. But this is—” Dylan’s gaze shifted back to his brother, who was now hugging Cutter fiercely “—different. It’s something else. I can’t really explain it.”
“You know your brother,” Liam said. “I trust your judgment.”
Gratitude lightened the boy’s expression as he looked back at them. He nodded toward Kevin and the dog.
“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him since it happened.”
“Shall I try to talk to him?” Ria asked.
The boy nodded. “I can’t get through to him. Maybe you can.”
Ria walked over to the swings, but, instead of starting right in with Kevin, she knelt down and began to pet Cutter, who welcomed her with a swipe of his tongue and some fierce tail wagging. Liam saw the child watch the dog for a moment and then shift his gaze to Ria.
“Stamp of approval,” Liam murmured.
“You think he’ll trust her because the dog does?” Dylan asked.
“I’ve found Cutter has that effect.”
The boy considered that. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I mean, dogs don’t generally like bad people, right?”
“It’s like the old saying about not trusting someone who doesn’t like dogs but totally trusting a dog when he doesn’t like someone.”
A faint smile flitted across Dylan’s face. “I hope you’re right. I hope he will.”
“You’re scared for him, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t really a question, since the boy’s fear was almost palpable. Dylan nodded.
“He’s a pain and annoying sometimes, but he’s my brother. And this crap—if he’s trying to hurt himself...”
His voice trailed away.
“He’s all right now,” Liam said. “And we’ll figure out how to keep him that way.”
Dylan looked at Liam straight on then, hope in his eyes, and Liam felt the weight of the boy’s need to believe. For a moment he considered telling the boy about Foxworth, about the full force and strength Dylan would have behind him if it came to that. Liam’s gaze flicked to Ria, who had succeeded in getting Kevin to talk to her about something, at least. And Liam found himself wanting to discuss the idea of telling Dylan with her as much as Quinn or Hayley. Again he was facing that weird snarl of work with...whatever this was. But even though it had been barely more than a week since he’d met her, he couldn’t deny he trusted her judgment. Especially when it came to kids.
He had progressed to wondering how Dylan would feel if and when he learned that Ria—and Emily—had come to Foxworth about him. Would he be angry, embarrassed or appreciative of their concern?
He already knew the boy liked Ria. So it might depend on how he felt about Emily.
“That girl in your English class, Emily,” Liam began, thinking that Ria would likely be much better at this than he was, despite the fact that he’d learned a bit about prying information out of people in his time with Foxworth.
Dylan looked startled. “What about her?”
“Ria says she’s been worried about you.” That much was true, after all.
The boy flushed. And looked away quickly. But not before Liam saw a flash of reaction in his eyes. Pleased reaction. So the thought wasn’t unwelcome. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when he found out what Emily had done, if it came to that.
And then Ria was back with them, leaving Kevin once more engrossed with Cutter, who was trying to entice the boy into playing.
“All I could get was that he said it’s his fault.”
“What is?” Liam asked as Dylan frowned.
“Your mother. Does he blame himself for what happened to her for some reason?” Ria asked the boy.
Dylan looked surprised at the idea. “I don’t think so. I mean, she and my dad were hiking, and she fell. He wasn’t with them.”
“She wasn’t worrying about him and distracted so she fell, or something like that? Something that, in his mind, might make him feel responsible?”
Dylan’s jaw tightened as he shook his head. “Actually, she was worried about me.”
Dylan gave Ria a wary look. Liam guessed at his worry. “Off the record here, Dylan.” He looked at Ria. “Right?”
“Yes,” she said, picking up on his concern quickly. “This goes nowhere.”
Dylan still looked uncomfortable but after a moment said, looking at Liam, “She found some pills in a backpack in my room.” His gaze shifted pleadingly to Ria, as if begging her to believe him. “They weren’t mine. It wasn’t even my backpack. It was my friend Derek’s.”
“Derek Wilson?” Ria asked. Dylan grimaced. “Off the record. I gave you a promise,” she said.
Dylan sighed and gave in. “Yeah. He left it there after we were studying one night. It was finals time, and we were all cramming hard, but Derek still wanted to go out and party, so he got some uppers.”
“Shall I point out the obvious?” Ria asked, one brow lifting.
Dylan gave her a rueful look. “Yeah, I know. He flunked.”
“But your mother didn’t believe they weren’t yours?”
“No, she did, but...she was worried that I was hanging with somebody who used. That’s the way she was.”
Ria put a hand on his arm. “That doesn’t make it your fault. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. Still hurts,” he muttered.
“Of course it does.” She seemed to hesitate and then asked, “What about your father? Does he blame Kevin?”
Dylan frowned. “Why would he?”
“I don’t know. But Kevin said it was his father who told h
im it was his fault, whatever he’s referring to.”
“That makes no sense,” Dylan said, brow furrowing as he shook his head in obvious bewilderment. “Kevin’s never done anything bad.”
“Sometimes life doesn’t make sense,” Liam said.
“Sometimes life sucks,” Dylan said bluntly. “Whole damn world changed the day she died.” He turned his head slightly, Liam guessed to hide the moisture building in his eyes.
“And yet it keeps turning,” Liam said quietly. “The sun keeps coming up, people keep doing, going along, not even realizing everything’s different. It’s just not right.”
Dylan’s head snapped back around and he stared at Liam. “Yeah. No. It’s not.”
After a moment Dylan looked over at his brother again. And Liam glanced at Ria, to find her watching him. She looked...something. Approving? Surprised? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t trust his own assessments, not with her. He was too tangled up over her. And he wasn’t sure how it had happened. He usually smothered any feelings like this long before they had a chance to take root. He knew he had to. He couldn’t risk it. Ever again.
And yet this woman had him wishing it could be different, that he could dare to chance it. Dare to let her in. Except he knew he couldn’t, because it was never him who paid the price. He’d learned that lesson the hard way, and he’d best remember that. No matter how much he might want to forget. Which was a sure sign he should beat feet, as Dad said, away from her as soon as he could.
No matter what Cutter said.
Chapter 16
The Foxworth building was silent, and Liam’s footsteps echoed a bit. Hayley was off to visit her brother and best friend Amy down in California, and Quinn had gotten a late-night message that had sent him for the Foxworth plane and a trip to headquarters in St. Louis. The trail of the mole they’d learned about almost two years ago—the leak that had nearly cost them everything on the operation that had brought Hayley and Quinn together—had suddenly heated up. It had been a long time, but Quinn’s behind-the-scenes inquiries had been ongoing. They’d hit a couple of dead ends and a wrong conclusion once, but Quinn Foxworth never, ever forgot a betrayal, and Liam didn’t envy whomever it was when Quinn finally found them.
He glanced back at the text Quinn had sent him.
Rafe’s already in StL, but Teague will be home Wednesday if you need backup.
Liam doubted backup would be an issue in this case, but it was like Quinn to think of all the contingencies.
He topped off his mug with the last of the half pot of coffee he’d made this morning as the laptop booted up. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to check, but it was his first instinct to keep learning as much as he could about all involved with a case. For a moment he thought of his father, who frequently bemoaned the loss of privacy these days, and then of Rafe, who agreed but said half of it was our own fault for plastering every move online all the time.
He supposed they were both right, but it sure made his job easier.
Well, most of the time, he corrected after he’d spent a fruitless hour chasing rabbits that led nowhere. Maybe Dylan had understated when he’d said his father was a technophobe. The only thing Liam had been able to find on his first check was an old, very brief profile on a business networking site, with a photo of an ordinary-looking guy in the typical-for-those-pictures suit and tie. It had told him no more than he already knew, except that there was a vague resemblance to Dylan.
He’d also done a check on Dylan’s mother when they’d first taken the case, as a matter of routine. There was more on her. She, at least, had a social media presence, and he found himself staring at the last photograph, a shot of a shady, deep green forest trail, posted about an hour before her fatal fall.
There was something eerie about the thought that she’d sent this photograph off into the ether to turn up on the screens of friends and followers but that she’d never see any of the “Oh, pretty!” responses or answer any of the “Where is that?” questions. That an hour later she’d be dead.
He’d looked into her accident, too, as a matter of routine. Thanks to Brett Dunbar, who had a friend in the neighboring county’s sheriff’s office, they had a copy of the investigation into that fall. It was thorough and documented Barton Oakley’s distraught statement, including how he, in the lead, had warned his wife to be careful as they approached the part of the trail that came close to the edge of the precipitous drop that had moments later taken her life. There was also a witness statement, another hiker who had actually been up ahead talking to Barton when they’d heard a scream and come running back down the trail. They’d tried frantically to get to her, but the drop was too steep. In the end a rescue team had to rappel down the cliff to recover her body.
A reminder tone from his phone thankfully brought an end to the grim images going through Liam’s mind. He’d suggested an extra session with Dylan today, after checking with Ria to see if she could arrange for them to use the gym on a Saturday, using the excuse that the previous session had been cut short.
No better off than before, he whistled for Cutter, who, after satisfying himself that Hayley and Quinn truly were not here, had settled on his bed on the floor near the windows while Liam did his online searching. Liam was still pondering that last photograph when he reached the school campus, so it took a half second for the presence of another car to register. A familiar red coupe.
Ria.
When she’d said somebody would unlock the gym for them, he hadn’t expected it to be her.
Cutter’s soft, questioning woof snapped him out of a haze. He realized he’d been sitting here in his truck trying to think of a way out of this. Several appellations came to mind, not the least of which was coward. Angry at himself, Liam yanked the truck’s door open and stepped out. Cutter was on his feet already and jumped out the moment the front seat was forward enough to give him room.
Liam felt disconcerted when he got to the gym and found only Dylan waiting. His mind churned. How would he have reacted had he not seen her car and known it was her? Would he have even wondered who had unlocked the building and where they were? Or just assume arrangements had been made and gotten down to business?
And then Liam got angry at himself all over again when he found himself avoiding asking the obvious question about where Ria was, because it would only add fuel to Dylan’s teasing about him having a crush on the pretty teacher.
“You okay, man?” Dylan asked. “This was your idea—”
“No, I’m good,” Liam said, shaking his head sharply as if that could clear out the chaos. “Sorry.”
“Ms. Connelly’s upstairs in the gallery,” the boy said casually.
Liam barely stopped himself from looking. Dylan didn’t laugh, but Liam had the feeling it was a near thing. The absurdity of it hit him—that he had a sixteen-year-old reading his muddled mind. The sixteen-year-old he was supposed to be helping, he reminded himself firmly.
“I saw her car,” he said neutrally, hoping the boy would take it as explanation.
He seemed to and said rather glumly, “She’s grading papers. Probably our essays.”
Liam did look up then. The sole occupant of the upper seats, she wasn’t hard to spot, but he thought he could have found her in a crowd just by the rich gleam of her smooth, dark hair. He liked the way the sides swept forward to points just above her shoulders, and how it moved, all silky and flowing, when she did. She wasn’t looking at them; she was bent over a thick file in her lap, propped up by the large, black leather bag that apparently served as both purse and briefcase.
Tearing his gaze away, he looked at Dylan again. “Not optimistic?”
“I think I did okay,” Dylan said, “but I was kind of distracted yesterday.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Liam said dryly.
Dylan glanced down at the polished wood of the gym floor
. “Thanks again for coming for us.”
“No problem. I’m glad you called.”
“You got any brothers? Sisters?”
“Two each. Older brothers. Younger sisters. And let me tell you, a little sister is an entirely different set of problems.”
Dylan laughed, and Liam counted it a win, while silently apologizing to his sisters, who in fact had presented a lot fewer problems to the Burnett family than he himself had.
“Let’s get to it, then. I thought we’d try some Tae Kwon Do. The movements are different—you know they go for the high kicks, the spinning stuff. And there’s the whole theory-of-power thing. Too much for some, so don’t feel bad if it doesn’t appeal.” He’d found his focus now. He gave the boy an encouraging smile.
“I want to try everything,” Dylan said.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“So where do we start?”
“We won’t get into the theory of power now. My physics and biomechanics are a bit rusty. If you choose it as your discipline you’ll have to, but right now we’ll just go through some—”
Cutter leapt to his feet, letting out a sharp, warning bark that made Dylan start. Liam spun around. In the next instant there was a loud slam of door against wall. He wasn’t really expecting a threat, but the countenance of the man who stormed into the building made him reconsider. A split second later Liam placed the man from the photograph he’d seen, even though it had obviously been taken some time ago.
Dylan’s father.
“Hold,” he ordered Cutter under his breath as his mind registered the resemblance to Dylan, much more pronounced in person, in the shape of his jaw and the blue of his eyes. But Liam was assessing him on another level, too. A little shorter than himself, but not much. Heavier. But it was soft weight, not muscle. Still, weight was weight, and a factor. Average arms and legs, so no exceptional reach. Not noticeably light on his feet; in fact, rather heavy. Mouth set in a scowl that looked permanently engraved.
But the main factor stayed the same. Anger put everything on a different level. People did crazy things when they were mad, things they might never do otherwise. And Liam thought of the road rage incident, where Dunbar had confirmed Barton Oakley had gone off on someone who had nearly sideswiped him, even though that driver had been dodging a large piece of debris in the roadway.
Operation Alpha Page 10
