From Father to Son

by Janice Kay Johnson

  A siren cut through the quiet of the night. Within moments a squad car pulled to the curb, lights flashing rhythmically.

  “Over here,” Niall called, and looked down at his quarry, who was hunched over, weeping. His legs looked skinny and shockingly white.

  Niall felt no pity at all.

  ROWAN POUNCED ON THE PHONE when it rang. Most people didn’t call this late. Her heart drummed when she saw Niall’s cell number.

  “Yes?” she blurted. “I mean, hello?”

  “I promised to let you know as soon as I made the arrest,” he said, sounding calm. “It’s done. We’re at the station right now booking him.”

  Dizzy, she fumbled her way to the nearest chair and sank onto it. “It was really him? Glenn?”

  “Yes.”

  “You caught him looking in some little boy’s bedroom window.” The idea was still horrific, unthinkable.

  “I caught him doing more than that,” Niall said grimly. “He was masturbating, Rowan. His pants were around his ankles when I cuffed him. There’s not an excuse in the world that he can come up with to get himself out of this one.”

  She closed her eyes. “Poor Donna. Poor Drew. I wish he’d told me.”

  “Drew wasn’t the only victim.” His voice was hard, all cop. “And Donna must have willfully blinded herself to what this SOB was doing. Don’t feel sorry for her.”

  “Have you told her yet?”

  “I’m heading over there next.”

  She asked what would happen; he said once the paperwork was done Glenn would be transported to the county jail.

  “He’ll doubtless be out by morning, but his life is never going to be the same. I’m guessing he’ll lose his job.”

  “They’ll move,” she said. “I can’t imagine they’ll stay here in Stimson.”

  “No. I’ll be keeping tabs on them, though. Wherever they go, I’ll call the local police department. I’d rather see his ass in prison. Inmates aren’t real fond of child molesters. But first offense, getting off by peeking in a window, he’s going to slide by without any time.” Disgust underlay every word. “His attorney will bargain for counseling.”

  “I wonder if Donna will leave him.”

  “Think how much she’d have to admit to herself if she did that. Is she capable of it?”

  Rowan was shaking her head before he finished. “No. No. She’ll convince herself that he was…I don’t know. Concerned because he thought he saw someone else looking in the window? Or that you set him up? But something. Whatever he tells her, because that’s what she does.”

  “Yeah, that’s my take, too.” His voice changed, became gentle. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore, Rowan. They’re out of your life. Out of the kids’ lives.”

  She was shivering, she realized with astonishment. Shock. A part of her had believed that Glenn and Donna had no grounds to take her children from her, but she’d been more frightened than she’d known. She was so flooded with emotion she wasn’t sure she could speak. It wasn’t only relief, either. She was angry, so angry. Mostly for Drew, but she couldn’t help wondering what he would think if he was here. How he’d react. Had he, too, become so steeped in denial he’d defend his father? What would the shame have done to him? He might have wanted to move his family, too.

  Right now she wished her name wasn’t Staley, but she would hold her head high. It was lucky the kids were so young. Their classmates wouldn’t know anything about this.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Niall…” She had to swallow.

  “I was doing my job.” He sounded brusque. “I told you. I don’t want your thanks.” She heard muffled voices. “I have to go. Good luck with tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? Setting down the phone, she had trouble recalling what made tomorrow any different from today.

  School. The first day, of course, for Anna, Desmond and her. She’d be helping in a third-grade classroom this year. It was a fun age and she’d been looking forward to it. Lately she’d begun to dream about going back to college to get her teaching certificate, but it would have to wait until the kids were older, more independent.

  Was Donna already wondering why her husband wasn’t yet back from his evening walk? Was she getting a little bit scared? Rowan took a long, shuddering breath. Despite everything, she did feel sorry for her.

  WHAT LITTLE SLEEP ROWAN had wasn’t restful. She woke in the morning unable to hold on to her dream, but knowing it had been unpleasant. Anna and Desmond were both subdued at breakfast and during the drive to school. Anna clung to her as they walked Des to his classroom. He wasn’t scared, not like last year when she’d dropped him off for the first day of kindergarten. After all, he already had friends, including Zeke, in this class. The fact that he was quiet told her he was nervous, though.

  Outside the cheerfully decorated door, he stopped. “You’ll be here when school lets out, right?”

  They’d gone over this already, but Rowan had expected it. “Right. Remember, I have bus duty, so you need to walk down to Mrs. Sanchez’s classroom and wait for me there. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He knew where that was. His thin chest expanded. “Don’t forget we have soccer practice today.”

  She smiled and gave him a hug. “I won’t.”

  He returned the hug but then he backed away hastily. Already he was getting to the age when guys didn’t want their friends to see them doing mushy stuff with their moms. Then he turned and walked into his classroom, with his brand-new backpack and his cowlick sticking up.

  “Well.” Dumb to feel teary. “Let’s get you to your school, kiddo.”

  “I wish you were staying, Mommy.” Anna’s eyes were big and scared. “Can’t you stay, just today?”

  “You know I can’t, but I’m only a block away. See, there’s my classroom right there.” They stopped for Anna to take another look. The buses hadn’t yet arrived, but a few kids had filtered in and the teacher Rowan assisted, Mrs. Sanchez, was greeting each at the door.

  “Anna,” she said, beaming. “Isn’t this exciting? I can hardly wait until you’re in my class.”

  The preschool was in an old house down the street from the elementary school. It was rather gaudy, painted turquoise with a bright red front door. There were two classrooms, one for the three-year-olds, one for four-year-olds like Anna. The fenced backyard held an array of climbers and forts as well as picnic tables for outside activities. Rowan greeted Anna’s teacher. Conscious of the ticking clock, still she lingered while her daughter shyly joined the group.

  Once she’d made it to work, a day she’d looked forward to now felt interminable. Rowan felt as if her mind had split into several screens, too many for the monitor to display at once.

  Please let Anna be making friends. Rowan had the semihysterical thought that it was lucky she’d enrolled her; what if she’d been counting on Donna to babysit this year, like last year?

  Rowan had heard good things about Des’s teacher, but that didn’t mean he’d be right for her son. Desmond was so bright and confident, he didn’t always wait his turn to speak and he didn’t think twice about arguing even with adults if he thought he was right. Some teachers would squelch him.

  Was Glenn already home, or had he had to appear in a courtroom downtown? Did they take a mug shot of him? Did he feel any shame at all?

  Niall had sounded so distant at the end of their conversation last night. Her fault. She’d been distant with him when he brought Desmond home. She should have asked him to dinner.

  What if he decided he was done with her? What if that’s what his distant tone had meant? What if it was too late for her to change her mind?

  “Mrs. Staley.” An arm in the air waved insistently. “Mrs. Staley, I have to sharpen my pencil.”

  “Didn’t Mrs. Sanchez ask that you m
ake sure you have at least three pencils sharpened so you don’t have to get up during an assignment?”

  The girl had a winning smile and a whine Rowan suspected would wear on her nerves by the end of the year. “Yes, but I didn’t know that until today, so I only had one. And see?” She held up her pencil with the tip snapped off.

  Rowan sighed and let her go to the sharpener.

  At lunch, she spotted Des in the cafeteria, sitting at a table between Zeke and a boy who’d been in his class last year. He was eating his fruit leather and the three were wrestling in that way boys seemed to do, like puppies. He wasn’t even looking for her. Reassured, Rowan dismissed the Desmond screen and wondered how Anna’s day was going. At least there hadn’t yet been a desperate call from the preschool.

  Bus duty was a nightmare, as it was every year on the first day of school. Even some of the older kids were confused over which bus they were supposed to ride. Rowan helped her third graders, then pitched in with the teachers and aides trying to get the littlest kids on the right buses.

  Both Anna and Des were hyper on the way home, eager to tell her everything.

  “And then Zeke said…”

  “Mommy, I can read! I read all the colors on the board…”

  “I got a big bruise on my knee during recess.” Des sounded satisfied rather than distressed. “It doesn’t really hurt, though.”

  “I don’t wanna go to Des’s soccer practice. It’s boring.”

  Rowan almost groaned. She didn’t wanna go, either. Could she drop him and leave?

  Not for the first practice. He’d be hurt if she didn’t stay and watch. Then dinner, cleaning the kitchen, supervising homework—Des was sure to have some. Baths.

  The neverending day.

  She imagined a time when she could drop her son off at soccer practice and count on Niall to pick him up. When he’d kiss her hello the moment he walked in the door, his eyes warm on her face. When he’d be there to help referee dinner table conversation, baths, tucking kids in. When she could look forward to talking to him after Des and Anna were asleep.

  Going to bed with him.

  Her heart cramped with longing.

  So easy to dream only because he’d said, I want to try? Because he’d offered to pick Des up from practice sometimes?

  Yes.

  It was nearly six o’clock when they got home. Rowan’s disappointment was acute at seeing the empty space where Niall’s car should have been parked.

  It wasn’t as if she’d planned to invite him to dinner, she told herself sturdily. She wasn’t sure the leftover lasagna would have stretched that far even if she’d wanted to.

  They’d barely walked in the door when the phone rang.

  “Put your stuff away,” Rowan told the kids. “Dinner won’t take long.” Then she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “How could you do this to us?”

  So much pain and fury filled the voice, Rowan took a few seconds to recognize it.

  “Donna.”

  “Was this the price you charged to get that man in your bed?” The accusation had to have come from Glenn. “All you ever wanted was to take our grandchildren away from us.”

  Rowan felt sick. “That’s not true.”

  “Don’t you have any shame? Our son loved you.”

  Her stomach roiled, but a banked coal of anger in her chest ignited. “Yes, he did. He loved me enough to tell me he’d been sexually molested as a boy. He loved you too much to ever try to bring his own father to justice, but I know the last thing in the world Drew would have wanted was to see you and Glenn raising Desmond. If there’s any shame here, it’s Glenn who should be feeling it.” Oh, God, I never meant to say that. “Please don’t call here again, Donna,” she said, voice shaking, and hung up the phone.

  And then she heard a noise and whirled to see her son standing in the kitchen doorway staring at her.

  “Was that…was that Grandma?”

  Desperately she wondered how much he’d heard.

  “Yes.” She hesitated, then went to the table and sat down. “Is Anna still upstairs?”

  He hadn’t moved. “Uh-huh.”

  “Come here, honey.” He rushed to her, and she lifted him, still so slight, her little boy, not that grown-up yet, into her arms. She hugged him hard. “I told you that you wouldn’t be seeing Grandma and Grandad anymore.”

  He drew back slightly. “Yes, but…why?”

  Niall, where are you when I need you?

  How much dared she tell a six-year-old? Surely he didn’t need to know that it was his own grandfather looking in his bedroom window?

  “I made a mistake moving in with your grandparents,” she said, almost steadily. “Your daddy loved them, but he was angry with Grandad about things that happened a long time ago. I know he didn’t want you to spend much time with Grandad.”

  “What kind of things?” Trust Des not to accept vague allusions.

  “Things you’re not old enough to understand,” Rowan said firmly. She tried never to lie to her children, but this was a truth he didn’t need to learn until he was much older. Perhaps never.

  He thought about that. “Does Niall know?”

  “Yes. But he isn’t going to tell you, either.”

  He gusted a sigh, but his body had relaxed. “Will you tell me someday?”

  Absurdly, she found herself smiling. “Maybe.”

  “Okay.” He squirmed out of her lap. “I’m awful hungry.”

  “And I haven’t even started dinner. I’ll hurry,” she promised. “Did you wash your hands? If you have, you can help.”

  He feigned reluctance but agreed. Rowan reheated the lasagna in the microwave, then the garlic bread, too. Settled for frozen peas, quickly warmed on the stove, as the token vegetable. She kept listening for Niall’s car, but not until she was tucking the kids in did she hear it.

  “Niall’s home,” Des said sleepily.

  She kissed him. “Sounds like it,” she agreed, as if she didn’t care at all. But she did.

  The promised rain had held off, but when she stepped out onto the back porch, she saw that it was now drizzling. She shivered a little, but sat down on the glider anyway. Tonight she left her porch light on, hoping he’d see her. Knowing that even if he did, he probably wouldn’t come over.

  Rowan was chilled and about ready to give up when Niall came out of his cottage and crossed the yard.

  “You’re cold,” he said, frowning at her when he climbed the steps.

  “Only a little.”

  He couldn’t sit on his step, which was already wet. Instead, he came all the way onto the porch and leaned one broad shoulder against a post. That placed him only a few feet away, looming over her.

  “Was this an invitation?”

  “Yes. I wondered what happened.”

  “Pretty much what I predicted.” His voice was expressionless. “He was out by midday. Furious, trying like hell to explain why it looked like he’d been jacking off in front of a kid’s bedroom window, but stumbling over the fact that we had digital photos.”

  “Donna called.”

  Without looking up, she knew he’d straightened and taken a step closer. “What did she say?”

  Rowan crossed her arms, more because of the chill inside her than the one outside. “She said all I ever wanted was to take their grandchildren away from them. She thought I should be ashamed of myself.”

  He crouched in front of her, but didn’t touch her. “You know better.”

  “Yes.” She made herself look at him. “Niall, I think she knew. Even though she’ll never admit it.”

  “Probably.”

  “Desmond heard part of what I said.”

  Niall swore.<
br />
  She told him what she’d said, and ached because she loved his smile.

  “So he thought he’d bypass you and get the answers from me.”

  “Kids do that. Play one par…” Aghast, she stopped. They stared at each other.

  “Play one parent off against the other,” he said softly.

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “Same principle.”

  “He’s…grown very attached to you.”

  “I have to him, too.”

  “You’ve done it again. Rescued us.”

  He made an inarticulate sound and rose to his feet.

  She tilted her head back. “Were you just doing your job?”

  Niall’s eyes looked almost black. She had no idea what he was thinking. The seconds hung heavy as she waited.

  “No,” he said finally.

  She waited. That was it. No.

  “Then…why?” she whispered.

  Again Niall hesitated. At last, one side of his mouth tilted up in an almost smile. “Because I’m in love with you, Rowan.” His voice was gravelly. Rueful. “I love you. You and your kids. Keeping you safe matters to me.”

  Her ability to speak seemed to have seized up. She wasn’t even sure she could breathe.

  His face again became impassive. “Think about it. That’s all I can ask of you.”

  Before she could manage a word, he nodded and left her. While she still sat there frozen, he crossed the lawn, went into his cottage and turned off the porch light.

  Rowan let the glider come to a stop.

  He loves me.

  He’d said it and walked away.

  How could she be both elated and terrified at the same time?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MIDMORNING, DUNCAN stopped by Niall’s desk. “Good work.”

  “Thank you.” Niall felt damn good about this arrest, better than he did about closing many murder investigations. Sad to say, he could respect the motives of some killers more than he could Glenn Staley’s.