by Laura Scott
“That’s nice.”
She nodded but didn’t add anything more.
“Mommy?” Brodie’s voice from the bedroom had Shayla leaping to her feet.
“Right here, kiddo.” She hurried into the guest room, then led him by the hand into the bathroom. He heard her praising him for being a good boy. They emerged a few minutes later.
How pathetic was it that he wished he’d had the opportunity to change his son’s diapers?
“I’m hungry,” Brodie announced.
“We have instant oatmeal for breakfast.” He sent her a look, lifting a brow questioningly. “Hope that’s okay.”
“One good thing about having a kid who’s always hungry, he isn’t too picky. Instant oatmeal will be fine.”
Brodie crawled up onto a kitchen chair. He was tall for his age, but didn’t quite reach the table. Shayla brought in a pillow from the bedroom to give him a boost.
The teakettle whistled, making Brodie clap his hands over his ears. Mike made the oatmeal, adding a dash of brown sugar. Brodie gobbled it up and then asked for seconds.
“Told you,” Shayla said wryly.
Hawk arrived ninety minutes later, bringing the phones and the computer and setting them on the kitchen table. To Mike’s surprise, he handed Brodie a box of toddler building blocks to play with.
“Thanks,” Shayla said with a smile.
The flash of jealousy was ridiculous and he wished he’d have thought of asking Hawk to buy something to keep Brodie entertained. Apparently he wasn’t very good at being an instant father.
He quickly plugged in and activated the new phones, then opened the computer, intending to double-check the location of Fresno’s address.
“Here are the keys to my SUV,” Hawk said, dropping them onto the table beside Mike. “An army buddy of mine, Rock Miller, is waiting outside to take me home, so I have to run. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
“Will do.” Mike stood and clapped Hawk on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Oh, and I went back to the farmhouse last night and waited for your car to be towed. They arrived within an hour or so. I don’t think anyone came back to look at your plates.”
“Glad to hear it.” Mike reminded himself that Hawk’s assistance had been invaluable. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hawk lifted a hand and left.
Brodie cried out with glee when his tower of building blocks toppled over on the floor. “Again, Mommy! Do it again.”
Mike watched them for a moment, wondering how long he’d continue to feel like an outsider when it came to Shayla and Brodie. After verifying Fresno’s address, he spent the next few minutes cleaning up the kitchen before heading into the living room.
“I’d like to leave soon, if that’s okay with you.”
Shayla glanced at her watch. “It’s only nine thirty, a little early to go to the hospital.”
“I know, but I’d like to stop by Fresno’s place first and that’s a good forty-five minutes away. We can head to the hospital after that. It won’t hurt to get there early, and we can always get something in the cafeteria for lunch while we wait.”
“Sounds good.” Shayla opened the box and began putting the building blocks away.
“No! Wanna play!” Brodie thrust out his lower lip.
“You can play with them later, okay?”
“No, no, no!” Brodie swept out his chubby arm and sent the rest of the blocks sailing across the living room.
“Maybe he can have a few in the car,” Mike offered, trying to find a compromise.
“Yes.” Brodie nodded, eyeing Mike curiously. “I wanna play wif them in the car.”
“Okay, pick two blocks.” Shayla continued putting the rest away. “That’s all. And you need to go to the bathroom before we leave.”
It took another fifteen minutes before they were safely buckled in Hawk’s SUV. Mike seemed to remember that taking his nieces and nephews on trips always took longer than expected and made a mental note to plan ahead next time.
The sun shone brightly in the sky as he headed to the interstate that would take them to the city of Brookland, where Fresno lived.
“Next time, don’t override my decision,” Shayla said in a low voice intended not to be overheard by Brodie. “It’s not good for him to play one parent against the other.”
He clenched his jaw but nodded. “Understood, although that certainly wasn’t my intention. But that brings up something I’ve been meaning to ask you about. When can we tell him that I’m his father?”
She sucked in an audible breath. “I don’t know. That isn’t something I’m just going to spring on him, Mike. Maybe once this is over...” Her voice trailed off.
It was tempting to argue, to point out that it had already been three years and three months that he’d been denied access to his son.
How much longer was she planning to make him wait?
* * *
Shayla couldn’t believe Mike wanted to just blurt the truth to Brodie without any thought of what impact it may have on the child.
Brodie wasn’t going to understand why he didn’t have a daddy before but had one now.
And the way Mike had butted in, offering Brodie the chance to bring two blocks into the car, annoyed her. He acted as if he had a right to interfere with how she raised Brodie, as if he were a childcare expert. She fully expected Brodie to lose the blocks, especially since he’d been smacking them together, enjoying the loud noise they made.
The oatmeal they’d eaten for breakfast sat like a lump in her stomach. As the miles passed, her anger slowly evaporated.
Maybe she wasn’t being fair to Mike. She knew the man she’d fallen in love with was a good guy. A man who’d come to her seeking solace the night he’d bitterly argued with his father. One who cared about others.
Everyone, except her family.
His father’s death had changed him. She’d felt awful for what he’d been going through, but she also couldn’t fathom the man he’d become. Angry, frustrated, obsessed and all too willing to believe the worst about her father and brother. She’d begged him to give them a chance, but he’d refused. Worse, he’d forced her to choose between her family and supporting him in seeking the truth about his father’s murder.
A path that had brought them to this moment now, almost exactly four years later.
Brodie finally stopped the infernal banging of his blocks to say, “Mommy, I’m hungry.”
She rolled her eyes and twisted in her seat to face him. “Brodie, it’s not lunchtime yet. Why don’t you sing some of your school songs?”
Brodie broke into a song that listed all the colors of a rainbow. She could tell by the broad grin on Mike’s face that he enjoyed it.
“Do you know other songs?” Mike asked when Brodie finished.
“Old McDonald had a farm,” Brodie sang. And soon Shayla and Mike joined in the chorus of e-i-e-i-o.
The song kept them occupied for the rest of the trip, and at ten forty-five Mike pulled into the driveway of a small ranch house owned by Peter Fresno.
“Why don’t you stay here with Brodie for a few minutes?” Mike suggested. “I don’t even know if he’s home.”
“Fine, but I still think he’s more likely to open up to me,” she said.
“I’ll let him know you’re here and offer him the chance to talk to you directly.”
It wasn’t a bad plan. She nodded and relaxed in the seat. “Okay.”
She watched as Mike walked up to the front door. He stood for several moments when the door suddenly swung open. Her brother’s partner was short and carried a few extra pounds around the middle. He stared at Mike and then his gaze swung over to her.
She pushed open her door and stepped out. “Pete? I’m Duncan’s sister, Shayla.”
&
nbsp; “I’ve heard about you,” Pete acknowledged. He stepped through the doorway and brushed past Mike to join her. “How’s your dad doing? Duncan mentioned he’s been sick.”
Her pulse quickened at the mention of her brother. “He’s having surgery right this minute.”
Pete’s eyes widened. “Wow, I had no idea.”
“Have you talked to Duncan?” she pressed.
“No. I haven’t spoken to Duncan in a couple of days. He asked for a week of vacation time and our lieutenant granted it without a problem, no doubt because your old man is our current chief of police.”
She forced a smile, although she sensed his underlying animosity. Over the approval of last-minute vacation time? Or something more? “Can you be more specific about when you last spoke to my brother? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Fresno made a big show of wrinkling his brow and lightly stroking his chin. “I’d have to say it was the day before yesterday. I called to find out how his dad was doing and that’s when he told me about the old man’s upcoming surgery.”
The way he kept referring to their father as the old man grated on her nerves. “You’re sure you didn’t talk to him at all yesterday?”
A flash of anger flickered in Pete’s eyes. “I’m sure. What’s this about, anyway?”
“Why don’t you tell us what you know about the Dark Knights?” Mike asked, coming over to join them.
The anger flashed again and this time she noticed Pete curled his fingers into fists. “I don’t know anything about them, other than what I’ve heard on the news. Why? What do the Dark Knights have to do with Duncan going missing?”
Mike’s eyebrows levered upward. “I didn’t say Duncan went missing.”
Pete narrowed his gaze. “That’s exactly what you both insinuated. I’m not stupid, I’m a cop. I told you I haven’t talked to Duncan since the day before yesterday, yet you keep pressing for more. It’s pretty clear you’re searching for Duncan and you decided to come here because I’m his partner.”
The tension between the two men was palpable.
“Do you recognize the name Lane Walters?” Mike asked.
“No.”
Shayla stepped up to play the role of peacemaker. “Pete, you’re right, we are looking for Duncan. And as his partner, we thought he’d come to you if he was in trouble. Because he trusts you, right? You both have each other’s backs, isn’t that how cops treat their partners?”
“Absolutely,” Pete agreed, relaxing his tense muscles. “I wish Duncan would have called me. I’m always willing to help him out of a jam.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said soothingly. “There’s a chance Duncan may still reach out to you. If he does, would you mind giving us a call?”
“Here, you can use my number.” Mike took out a business card and handed it to Pete. “Call anytime, day or night, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Pete barely glanced at the business card or at Mike as he tucked the card deep into his pocket. “Hope you find him soon.”
“Me, too.” Shayla and Mike stood watching as Peter Fresno headed back inside. When they were alone again, she glanced at Mike. “That was odd.”
“Yeah.” Mike’s expression was grim. “I don’t think he’ll be calling us anytime in the near future.”
She bit her lip, silently agreeing with Mike’s assessment. Pete might be her brother’s partner, but she had the distinct impression that Pete didn’t like her brother very much.
Or maybe he didn’t like being partnered with the police chief’s son.
Out of basic jealousy? Or because he was involved in something shady?
She hoped and prayed it wasn’t the latter.
SIX
Mike was convinced Fresno knew more than he’d let on, but it was clear the guy wasn’t going to confide in them. He drove Shayla and Brodie to Trinity Medical Center, his instincts screaming at him that something was off-kilter.
Neither one of them had mentioned Duncan was missing, yet that was the conclusion Fresno had instantly jumped to. Because he knew something? The disdain in the cop’s tone when he’d spoken of the chief of police had betrayed an underlying animosity.
For Ian O’Hare himself? Or Duncan?
Likely both.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Brodie said from the back seat.
He heard Shayla sigh. “I know, sweetie. We’ll get lunch soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
They arrived at the hospital at eleven fifteen in the morning. Mike parked in the structure adjacent to the building as close as he could to the entryway. Shayla held Brodie’s hand as they walked inside and crossed to the elevator.
“I wanna press the button,” Brodie announced.
“Can you find the number three?” Shayla asked. “You learned that at your pre-K program, right?”
“I’m three,” Brodie said as he pushed the button for the third floor.
“Yes, you are,” Shayla agreed.
Brodie held up three fingers at Mike, who nodded solemnly. He was impressed at how well his son knew his numbers. “You’re a big boy, Brodie. Do you like your pre-K program?”
The child nodded, then shyly edged closer to his mother. Mike had hoped that his son would grow to be more comfortable around him but, so far, that hadn’t exactly been the case.
Except for that brief moment when he’d told Brodie he could take a few blocks along for the car ride.
Would he be relegated to holding Brodie only while he was sleeping? The thought was depressing. He wanted, needed, to tell Brodie he was his father.
But Shayla wanted to wait. Was that a reasonable request? Or a stall tactic?
He had no way of knowing for sure.
The elevator dinged and Shayla once again took Brodie’s hand as they exited. She went straight to the nurses’ station and asked to speak to her father’s nurse.
“Stephanie is taking care of a new admission, so it will take a few minutes.”
Mike sensed Shayla’s frustration and reached out to put a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”
The five minutes passed with excruciating slowness. A frazzled redhead finally approached with a hesitant smile. “I’m Stephanie, did you need something?”
“Have you heard anything about how my father’s surgery is going?” At Stephanie’s blank look, she added, “Ian O’Hare?”
“Oh, I barely saw your father. They took him to the OR just as I was coming on shift. Sorry.” Stephanie shrugged. “And he’ll likely go to the cardiac intensive care unit afterward, at least for twenty-four hours.”
Beneath Mike’s fingers, he could feel Shayla tense. “How will I know when he’s out of surgery?”
“Go down to the family center on the first floor across from the chapel. The doctor will come to find you there.” Stephanie hurried away.
“Why didn’t they tell me that this morning?” Shayla asked, scowling in annoyance.
“We’ll go there now, see if they know anything about your dad,” Mike assured her.
They walked into the family center to find it jam-packed with people. There was a TV in the corner, a judge show blaring loudly. The moment they entered, he knew that Shayla and Brodie wouldn’t want to stick around for long.
“My name is Shayla O’Hare,” she said to the woman behind the desk. “I’m waiting to speak to the surgeon about my father, Ian O’Hare.”
“O’Hare, O’Hare,” the woman muttered, running her finger down a list of names. “Oh, yes, here it is. Looks like your dad is scheduled to be finished with surgery at eleven thirty.”
Shayla’s face lit up. “It’s almost that time now. Will Dr. Torres come down here to talk to me?”
“I’m sure he will. Why don’t you have a seat?” The phone at the woman’s elbow rang shrilly. She
turned away to answer it.
Mike glanced around but saw only one empty seat. He moved toward a spot near the wall, hoping something would open up soon.
“Miss O’Hare?”
“Yes?” Shayla immediately crossed over to the desk.
“Dr. Torres will be down soon.”
“Thank you,” Shayla said with relief.
An olive-skinned doctor wearing blue scrubs and a cap that covered most of his dark hair entered the waiting room a few minutes later.
He recognized Shayla and offered his hand in greeting. “Your father’s surgery went very well. He’s in the postanesthesia recovery unit and will be there about an hour before moving to the cardiac ICU. You can see him there once the nurses get him settled.”
“Thank you, Dr. Torres. I’m glad to hear everything went well.”
“Your father is in remarkably good shape. I’ll watch him in the ICU overnight, but if all goes well, he’ll return to the third floor the following morning. Heart surgery patients typically stay in the hospital for three to four days.”
“That’s all?” Shayla’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought he’d be in for a week, maybe longer.”
“No, we’ve learned patients recover better at home.”
“Okay, thanks again.” Shayla turned back toward Mike after the doctor left. “We have an hour before we’ll be able to see him, so we should probably have lunch.”
“Yes, Mommy, I’m hungry.”
Mike smiled, glad that Shayla had been given good news. “Let’s get something to eat.”
The cafeteria was just as noisy as the family center, but they were able to find an empty table in the back of the room. Brodie enjoyed his grilled cheese sandwich and fries.
“I wish Duncan was here,” Shayla said with a sigh.
“I know.” Mike briefly covered her hand with his.
“I didn’t like his partner,” she confided. “He seemed like a jerk.”
