Protecting His Secret Son

by Laura Scott

  That didn’t fit with the woman he’d known. The woman he’d fallen in love with. The four years they’d been apart had changed things between them and he was forced to acknowledge that their breakup was more his fault than hers.

  But that didn’t explain her reaction to Brodie calling him daddy. Unless that had somehow reinforced the fact that they had yet to make plans for the future. That they hadn’t finalized any details for how they’d work things out once the danger was over.

  “Ready to go inside now?” Shayla’s voice wafted through the open door.

  “Yeah.” Brodie sniffed.

  “Okay. Come on, then. We’ll come back to the playground when you can be a good boy.”

  Shayla held the door for Brodie. The boy came inside, looking around curiously, his interest piqued by the new surroundings.

  “Should we check out the bedrooms?” Shayla crossed over to peek at the arrangements. Just like at Hawk’s cabin, one room had two twin beds and the other was the master. “This is our room, Brodie. You can pick which bed you’d like to sleep in.”

  He poked his head inside and looked around. “Okay.”

  Crisis averted, at least for the moment.

  “I sent Matt out for food,” he told Shayla. “I should have mentioned picking up a few toys for Brodie to play with.”

  “It’s okay.” She still hadn’t looked him squarely in the eye. “The playground should help and there’s a television here, too. Cartoons will keep him occupied for a while.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He hated the awkwardness between them.

  While she took Brodie to the bathroom, he went back to pulling out evidence, determined to pore over every bit of it again with fresh eyes. There must be something he’d missed.

  The first thing he pulled out was the article he’d kept for all these years, describing the scene the day his father was murdered. Mike was fairly certain he had every word of the article memorized, but reread it anyway.

  Milwaukee Police Chief Maxwell Callahan responded to the scene of an officer-involved shooting on Wednesday night, only to become a victim himself. As Chief Callahan approached the scene where Officer Rafe Scarletti had shot and killed an unarmed man, more gunfire rang out. Police Chief Max Callahan was hit twice in the back and pronounced dead at the scene of the crime.

  The article went on to identify the initial victim as Curt Elliot, a young man who, while unarmed, was no stranger to crime. Elliot’s rap sheet was longer than Mike’s arm, his first arrest coming at the age of twelve and his life of crime ending with his fatal shooting at twenty-one.

  Mike had gone to the crime scene about a week later. It wasn’t far from a couple of two-story apartment buildings that he’d later learned were suspected to be owned by members of the Dark Knights.

  There was no proof, though. The company that owned the property was listed as Rainbow Springs, LLC. But other than the name, he hadn’t been able to find out anything else about them.

  The cop, Rafe Scarletti, had been clean, too. Scarletti had claimed that Elliott had refused to pull his hands out of his pockets despite being told several times. Scarletti, having noticed something bulky in one of the pockets, and believing the perp had a gun, had fired his weapon when he’d noticed Elliot’s hand moving inside the pocket.

  Unfortunately the bulky items were several packs of cigarettes rubber-banded together and a bag of marijuana.

  No gun. Not even a penknife.

  Not for the first time, Mike wondered if Elliot had been shot on purpose because of his criminal record. It wasn’t the type of shooting the Dark Knights were known for, but Mike felt certain they must be involved. His theory was that his father had been murdered that same day because he had made a point of going to the crime scene himself—something the police chief rarely did—and that the Dark Knights had panicked because they’d feared Max Callahan would uncover the truth.

  Another name buried in the article caught his eye, causing him to frown. He’d forgotten that Elliot hadn’t been alone that night. He’d been with a young man named Donte Parkerside, who’d been two years older.

  Searching through his notes, Mike tried to find what information he’d uncovered about Parkerside. But there was nothing.

  Had he missed the name completely?

  Feeling the hum of anticipation, he quickly opened the laptop. Thankfully the cabin had decent Wi-Fi capabilities, probably one of the reasons Matt had chosen it. As a private investigator, Mike paid for access to a variety of search sites.

  There were only two Donte Parkersides in the database he had access to, one much older than the other. Maybe a father and son? Mike decided to start with the younger Parkerside and instantly got results.

  Parkerside had been out on parole after doing a brief stint in jail for armed robbery and aggravated assault. A shiver rippled over Mike’s arms. Parkerside had injured a store clerk while attempting to rob her. The woman had been seriously injured but survived. As he stared at Parkerside’s history, he was shocked the guy had got out of the slammer and out on parole because of “good behavior” after doing barely a year.

  Normally aggravated assault and armed robbery was a five-year minimum. Mike noted that Parkerside had had a decent criminal lawyer rather than the usual public defender. The lawyer, Jake Stone, must have done some fancy footwork in front of the parole board to get Parkerside out of jail so early.

  As he dug deeper, Mike uncovered the fact that Parkerside had only done a brief stint in jail after the officer-involved shooting. Parkerside hadn’t had a weapon, either, but he’d been with a man who’d had drugs, which was enough to send him back behind bars for violating his parole. But not for long. Apparently a year later Donte Parkerside was, once again, out of jail and back on the street.

  Mike began searching deeper into Parkerside’s background, wondering if Donte could have been the original target. In his humble opinion, Parkerside’s armed robbery and aggravated assault was worse than Curt Elliot’s long history of petty crimes that included everything from theft, shoplifting, breaking and entering, and drug use.

  Had the Dark Knights felt the same way?

  He couldn’t find any more arrests listed for Donte Parkerside and when another article caught his eye, he knew why.

  Parkerside had been killed two and a half years ago in a drive-by shooting. A homicide case that remained unsolved.

  Mike sat back in his seat, reeling from the knowledge that the two men who’d been there the night his father had been killed were both dead.

  And the common link between them was the Dark Knights.

  * * *

  Shayla did a quick inventory of the cabin, keenly aware of Mike working on the computer at the kitchen table. She’d told herself to get over Brodie’s sudden attachment to Mike, but that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

  This was the beginning of a new reality. From this point forward she and Mike would share custody of Brodie in some way.

  Final arrangements to be determined.

  Now that his temper tantrum was over, Brodie sat quietly in the living room watching a children’s channel on the television. She’d wanted to smile at how uncomfortable Mike had looked during Brodie’s meltdown, but managed to refrain. At least Mike had seemed to realize that being a father wasn’t going to be all sunshine and roses. There were plenty of difficult issues to deal with, too.

  But she had to give Mike some credit in following her lead. She’d expected Mike to break down, rushing over to offer Brodie something to make him stop crying.

  But he hadn’t. Instead he’d turned his back on the crying child, talking to Matt in a voice loud enough to be heard over Brodie’s sobs.

  Since Brodie was happy and quiet, she decided to enjoy the moment of peace by gazing out at the lovely wooded landscape, watching the few people who were staying at the other cabins. The place wasn’t very busy. From wh
at she could tell, only two of the other cabins were occupied.

  She noticed Matt driving toward their cabin in the SUV. She crossed to the door and quickly walked outside to meet up with him.

  “I hope I have everything you need,” he said after stepping out of the vehicle. “I included a ten-pack of minicars for Brodie. Hope that’s okay.”

  “That’s perfect, thanks.” She was touched by Matt’s thoughtfulness. She held out a hand for a bag of groceries, but he waved her away.

  “I have it. Do me a favor—let Duchess out of the back, then grab the door for me.”

  She did, following Matt and Duchess inside. Matt set the bags on the counter and began unpacking them.

  “Thanks, bro,” Mike said absently, his attention clearly on the computer screen in front of him.

  “No problem. What are you working on?” Matt finished putting the few items away, then dropped down in a kitchen chair beside Mike. Duchess settled on the floor at his feet. “Who’s Donte Parkerside?”

  “He was another perp with Curt Elliot the night he was shot by an MPD officer,” Mike replied.

  She set the ten-pack of small plastic cars aside to join the men at the table, intrigued by their discussion.

  “Parkerside was there the night Dad was murdered?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah. He was also a known felon, had done time for armed robbery and aggravated assault, but got out early on good behavior. After the night Elliot was shot, Parkerside did another year behind bars, then was let out again. But within six months, he was killed in a drive-by shooting.”

  Matt whistled between his teeth. “That’s interesting.”

  “I know. I can’t believe I missed it my first time through all this.” Mike sounded upset with himself.

  “Hey, it’s not your fault.” Matt clapped Mike on the shoulder. “I’ve been looking into Dad’s case in my spare time, too, but I didn’t notice that there was another perp on the scene. I just assumed the guy who’d been shot was the key to whatever was going on.”

  Mike blew out a breath. “That’s exactly the path I took. But knowing Parkerside was murdered after getting out of jail opens up more possibilities.”

  Shayla peered over to look at the picture of Donte Parkerside, but the guy didn’t look familiar. She found herself wondering if her brother would have recognized him.

  Thinking of Duncan reminded her about her father. It had been hours since she’d last spoken to him or to anyone on his health care team. “Mike, if you don’t mind, I’d like to call the hospital, see how my dad is doing.”

  Mike instantly glanced up and nodded. “Matt, did you pick up new phones?”

  “Yeah, but they’ll need to be activated and charged.” Mike’s brother jumped up from the table and went over to pull the phones out of a big-box store bag. “I’ll get going on these for you.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said. “Shayla, is that okay? Can you wait a little while longer?”

  “Sure.” She wasn’t about to argue. Not when she knew how close she and Brodie had come to being hurt or worse. Her gaze landed on the makeshift bandage she’d placed on the wound alongside Mike’s temple.

  Horrifying to realize how much worse it could have been.

  “Mommy? I’m hungry.”

  Of course he was. She sighed and rose to her feet. “You can have a few crackers, but that’s all. Dinner won’t be ready for a while yet.”

  “Okay.” Brodie’s attention was diverted by a new cartoon that was starting. She put a small handful of fish crackers in a bowl and set it beside him.

  In the kitchen, she pulled out the hamburgers and hot dogs Matt had picked up for dinner. She was about to pull out a frying pan, when she remembered there had been a small grill located outside the cabin. She headed out to investigate, hoping to find charcoal and starter fluid.

  Everything she needed was right there, waiting for her. Once she had the grill going, she went back inside.

  “Wait! I was going to make dinner,” Mike said, rising.

  “It’s okay, I can do it. You and Matt are busy.”

  “Are you sure?” His gaze was a bit skeptical and she sensed he was still trying to make up for their earlier argument.

  “I’m sure.” She was about to add that she was used to being solely responsible for feeding Brodie, but held back.

  The tentative truce between them was better left alone.

  Besides, deep down, she was relieved that Mike seemed to have dropped the idea of going to the hospital to visit her father. The last thing she wanted was for Mike to begin questioning her dad about the Dark Knights. Her father had already suffered a heart attack and open-heart surgery. He didn’t need the added stress of being interrogated by Mike.

  “We need the rest of the family here,” Matt said abruptly. “By working together, I’m sure we’ll find Dad’s murderer.”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said, doubt lacing his tone. “Everyone is pretty busy with their respective careers and families. I know Marc and Kari’s kids have just got over the flu. Miles and Paige just got back from vacation. And—”

  “Hold up,” Matt interrupted. “This is Dad’s murder we’re talking about here. Not one of us is too busy for that.” Matt’s gaze fell on the contents in the box. He frowned and stood up to see inside. “Wait a minute, is that my file folder of notes?”

  “Uh...” Mike glanced away.

  Shayla came over to see what the fuss was about. “What’s wrong with the file folder?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, except that I had it at my place when it suddenly went missing. And these blueprints? Did you get them from Mitch?” Matt continued, digging through the items. He pulled out the evidence bag containing the slug taken out of their dad’s body and he whistled again. “I can’t believe it.”

  Mike held up his hand. “I can explain...”

  “You took our stuff!” Matt looked dumbfounded. “Without telling us!”

  “I was only trying to help,” Mike said, trying again. But his brother wasn’t listening.

  “That does it. Since you helped yourself to our notes, we are absolutely going to work together from now on.” Matt pulled out his phone and walked outside.

  Mike dropped his head in his hands and let out a soft groan. “They’ll hate me for this.”

  “No, they won’t,” she countered, coming over to sit beside him. “Oh, they’ll be angry, but they’ll get over it. Because families stick together no matter what.”

  Mike lifted his head to look at her. “You really think so?”

  “I do. Just remember that same sentiment goes with my family, too.”

  Mike nodded slowly, reaching out to put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, knowing she already had.

  But that alone wasn’t enough to fix everything that had been broken between them.

  THIRTEEN

  Mike savored Shayla’s warmth, wishing there was a way to recapture the love they’d once shared. Those precious moments with her had been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  Followed shortly thereafter by his father’s death, which had been the worst thing to happen to him.

  “I need to call the hospital before I toss the hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill,” she said, shifting away from him.

  Reluctantly he let her go. His brother was still outside and Mike knew he deserved Matt’s knee-jerk reaction about his missing file, knowing he should have come clean with his siblings a long time ago.

  But he couldn’t undo the past, either with his siblings or with Shayla, no matter how much he might want to.

  Hopefully his family would forgive him. It was difficult to explain how devastated he’d been after their father died, a mere week after their heated argument. Illogical as it
was, he’d felt personally responsible, as if somehow his decision not to continue being a cop had had a direct correlation to his father’s murder.

  His grim determination to find the man responsible for pulling the trigger that fateful day hadn’t wavered over the years. Yet somehow, despite gathering all his siblings’ information, he still hadn’t been able to uncover the truth.

  His gaze dropped again to the mug shot on the computer screen. Donte Parkerside was dead. There was no record or evidence of gang involvement in the drive-by shooting.

  Struck by an idea, he searched for the young woman who’d been injured in Donte’s aggravated assault charge. The incident had been an entire year earlier to the night of his father’s murder. Lindsey Baker had been a young college student five years ago, a nineteen-year-old cashier, when Parkerside had decided to rob the convenience store the night she was working.

  He could only imagine how frightened she’d been when he’d come in, demanding cash and waving his gun. She’d readily handed over everything she’d had, but Donte had still taken a wild shot at her before leaving.

  Then the name clicked in his mind. But hadn’t the Dark Knights already taken their brand of justice out on Lindsey Baker’s assailant?

  Unless there had been two perps that night.

  Digging deeper, he discovered that Lindsey had been confined to a wheelchair since the event because the bullet had injured her spinal cord.

  He listened as Shayla spoke to her father’s nurse. From her side of the conversation, he could tell Ian O’Hare was doing much better. She finished the conversation by saying, “I’ll talk to him later, then.”

  The idea of questioning the police chief about the Dark Knights lingered in the back of his mind. Shayla had reservations about him questioning her father, but he knew that they’d have to talk sooner rather than later.

  If Ian and Duncan were working to find internal police connections to the Dark Knights, then Mike wanted to know who exactly was on their suspect list.