“I guess I have trouble sleeping sometimes, too,” she told the child, though she really wished she hadn’t had to admit that in front of Rio. To ease her child’s concern, she gave her a smile. “If your dream catcher works, maybe I’ll get one for me.”
Molly brightened. “He could bring you one.”
Molly was pointing again. As a reminder that the gesture wasn’t polite, Eve curved her hand over her daughter’s. She was about to tell her, too, that it wasn’t polite to take a person’s generosity for granted when Rio crouched down by the bed and clasped his big hands between his knees.
“You know, Molly, these things don’t always work for big people.”
“They’re just for kids?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. But if your mom knows you’re sleeping all right, then she’ll probably sleep a little better, too.”
Molly contemplated his little revelation, looking quite serious when she told him she was glad she was a kid so it would work for her. Rio told her he was glad she was a kid, too, his attention divided between the little imp smiling at him and the graceful curve of her mother’s hand resting on her narrow little shoulder. Eve had beautiful hands, soft-looking, feminine. Her fingers were long and slender, and her perfectly manicured nails were painted a delicate shade of rose. He could well imagine the feel of those hands sliding up his chest.
Bracing his own hands on his knees, he straightened himself up and took a step back. He shouldn’t have touched her before. That one small indulgence had him itching to do it again. Only he suspected he wouldn’t be satisfied with a touch, and the thoughts of what he could do with Eve in bed to take her mind off whatever it was that kept her awake did nothing but guarantee another restless night for himself.
“I have to go,” he said, sparing the child a wink. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”
Molly gave him a nod and jumped off the bed, dragging Ted with her. She was already out the door when Eve turned to the stairway herself.
“I’ll walk you down.”
“Eve.”
With her back still to him, she quietly asked, “What?”
She heard him move behind her. A moment later, something brushed her shoulder. At least, she thought she’d felt something. The touch had been so light, so fleeting, that she really couldn’t be sure.
“We don’t have to rush into anything here. I know we agreed to hold off telling her who I am until she gets used to me. But we won’t say anything until you’re comfortable with it. I know I’m not the only one who needs time here.”
She thought she’d see hesitation in his expression. All she saw in the hard angles of his face was a grudging sort of understanding. It was almost as if he knew how hard it was for her to let him into their lives, but that he would overlook her unspoken unwillingness if it would help make the transition a little easier.
Given the turmoil she felt, there wasn’t much for her to say just then that wouldn’t unleash too much of what she was trying to hold in. She couldn’t even tell him how nice it had been of him to say what he just had to Molly. So she settled for a quiet “Thank you,” and led him down the stairs and to the front door.
He called out “‘Night, Molly” just before he left, then walked away with both hands jammed in his pockets.
* * *
The dream catcher worked. That had been the first thing Molly had said when she’d come bounding down the stairs and screeched to a halt just before she reached the kitchen, because she knew she wasn’t supposed to run in the house.
“It caught the monster!” was the actual proclamation, and the child had been so excited that she’d practically danced around the room. “The monster didn’t wake me up at all!”
If she believes, it will be so.
Rio’s words drifted through Eve’s mind as she searched the breakfast area off the kitchen for her pearl studs between bites of yogurt. The phrase spoke volumes about the man, about the strength of his own beliefs, his own convictions. It also made her want very much to borrow that strength for a little while. She wouldn’t be opposed to thanking him for making her daughter—their daughter—so happy this morning, either.
The breath she blew out feathered her bangs. She had no business thinking about any of this right now. She needed to find her earrings so she could leave. She had put Molly on the bus for day camp five minutes ago, which meant she had four hours and ten minutes to do the things that were easier to do without one particular five-year-old tagging along. Not that Molly was ever really in the way. There were just some things that were easier for Eve to do alone. There were also some places that weren’t suitable for children.
Such as the attorney’s office. She had a nine-thirty appointment.
She found one earring under the manila envelope on the dining room table. Remembering that she’d set them there so she could put the papers she’d needed to take with her into the envelope, she slipped the earring in and proceeded to check her mental list. After she left the attorney’s office, she would run by an electronics store, then stop for groceries. Since she’d asked two of her mother’s friends over to pick out mementos for themselves, she wouldn’t have time to drop the Blu-ray player off at the fund-raiser chairman’s house today, but she could do it tomorrow before the real estate appraiser arrived. This afternoon, she’d promised Molly she’d take her to see the new Disney movie at the Northend Mall Multiplex.
The second earring had rolled off the table and was on the floor by a chair leg. Eve picked it up as the phone rang.
It was her brother.
“Eve,” Hal began without preamble. “Come by my office this morning around ten. No, better make it ten-thirty. I need to talk to you.”
She didn’t know which she disliked more. The demand in his voice, or the demand itself. There were a couple of things about last night that she’d very much like to clear up, but nothing seemed so urgent that she should do his bidding at the drop of a hat. He’d put off her requests to see him for more than a week.
“I’d love to talk to you,” she returned, suspecting he acted as he did because she’d refused to play the little sister role he’d apparently felt she should assume. Being a feminist’s son, he should have known better. “But I don’t have time to go to your office this morning. I can talk for about three minutes now, though. Are you all right?”
He didn’t seem to expect her concern. Or her refusal. “No, I’m not all right.” He paused, seeming to regroup. “What’s with you and Redtree?”
Considering what Hal had concluded last night, Eve figured he had every right to ask the question. Working on her earring, she sank into the wing chair.
“We were friends,” she explained, deciding that was definition enough. “I never said anything to anyone but Mom about who Molly’s father is because I didn’t think it was anyone else’s business. Rio didn’t even know about her until last week. We’re…”
“I mean with the investigation. Why was he talking to you about the Hanson woman?”
His impatience was as much a surprise as his dismissal of what she’d just admitted. “I’m answering questions for him about people Mom knew, and he’s keeping me informed about what’s going on. What’s wrong with that?”
He hesitated. “What kind of questions?”
Far more generous with her information than he’d ever been with his, she told him what Rio had asked, starting with the questions he’d posed about the night Olivia died. When she got to those he’d asked last night, however, it was her turn to pause.
“He asked me about you, too,” she finally said, feeling like a traitor but not at all sure why. She’d never told Rio she wouldn’t say anything to Hal. He hadn’t asked her not to, for that matter. “He wanted to know how you could afford that new car. I told him I didn’t know where you got your money.” She twisted the phone cord around her finger. “I don’t know what a city councilor makes, but, Hal, Mom couldn’t even afford to live where you do.”
She hated the doubt in her voice. Hal was
her brother. The only family she had left. She needed to believe in him. But after Rio had raised the questions, she couldn’t help wondering herself how he could afford the expensive clothes he wore and the house her mom had said he’d bought last year. The Heights was the most exclusive area in Grand Springs. It cost a small fortune to live there.
From the other end of the line came the sound of breath being slowly expelled.
“Mom didn’t believe in taking chances with her money,” Hal finally muttered, sounding more than a little weary of defending himself. “You know from dealing with the bank on her estate that all she ever invested in were a few long-term CDs and a nice, safe little money market account. I took a few big risks when the market was down a couple of years back, and they paid off well. I’ve been playing the stocks ever since. That’s where my money comes from.”
“I thought it must be something like that.”
“Sure you did.”
“Hal, don’t. I know you’re upset about a lot of things right now, but I’m on your side. Stop trying to punish me because Mom made me executor instead of you.”
“I don’t give a damn about that.”
“Sure you don’t.”
Hal didn’t seem to know what to say to that. So, like the good politician he was, he simply sidestepped it.
“If you’re on my side, stay away from Redtree. If you want more information, talk to me.”
“I’ve tried, but you haven’t told me anything.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I know that,” she replied, calling on the patience she often had to use with her daughter. “Rio is—”
“Rio is a reporter,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “I can’t believe how gullible you are where he’s concerned. That man is positively ruthless, Eve. I know a lot of people around here are fooled by that quiet act of his, but he’ll do anything for a headline. Including seducing you. Again. Can’t you see he’s using you?”
As indignant as Hal sounded, Eve almost expected him to say that he was going to tell Rio to stay away from the lot of them—something that, until last night, she would have thought completely out of character. Hal was a charmer, not a fighter. He picked the battles he could win on wit and diplomacy alone, and left the nastier skirmishes to those who didn’t mind dirtying their hands. He’d been criticized for that in the past. On more than one occasion, their mom had alluded to his approach not being aggressive enough for some of his constituents. But Olivia had felt the world could use another pacifist. At least, Eve could recall her mother once feeling that way. Other than for the pleasure Olivia had expressed at Hal’s engagement and her disappointment in him for opposing her on the mining issue, her mom hadn’t said very much about him in the past year.
Eve didn’t know whether Hal had started to change long ago or if the current pressures on him were forcing the metamorphosis. What she did know was that this was the first time he had ever come to her defense.
She couldn’t help being touched by that brotherly show of support, misinformed though it was.
“I know what I’m doing where Rio is concerned,” she gamely assured him. Seduction was not on the man’s mind. It was as clear as her Mom’s best crystal that he didn’t trust either her or whatever attraction he felt. “He’s been completely up-front with me from the beginning. He wants Mom’s murderer found as badly as we do. If I can help him, I’ll do it. I have to,” she stressed, certain he would understand. “As for Molly, he and I will just have to work that one out together.”
She checked her watch and grimaced. “I’ve got to go, Hal. I’m meeting the attorney and I’m late already. He thinks we should be ready to file for probate by the end of next week. Do you have any questions you want me to ask him?”
Hal’s pause was brief, just enough time passing for Eve to wonder if he wasn’t considering one last shot at Rio. He must have decided he’d be wasting his breath.
“No questions,” he finally said. “You’re doing a good job, Eve.”
As grudging and unexpected as it was, the compliment pleased her. Not because her brother seemed surprised that she could handle the responsibilities she’d inherited, but because it meant she wasn’t bungling the tasks as badly as she sometimes felt she was. She was flying blind with just about everything in her life right now, and praying hard that she wouldn’t crash and burn somewhere along the way. The confident front her mother insisted all women needed was just that. A front.
Whether or not she was a woman of substance didn’t matter at the moment. She was a woman with a child who’d be home in three hours and fifty minutes. That meant she didn’t have time to worry about whether Rio, her brother or anyone else knew that she would give just about anything to lean on somebody else for a while.
* * *
Parking along Main Street had been at a premium ever since the storm. For the past two months, construction and repairs had turned something that had once been taken for granted into a true challenge. This particular morning the city had one stretch of curb blocked off for sewer work, and the flower shop was finally getting its new roof. The semi delivering the trusses took up most of the block.
Rio was on his way into the newspaper office with a double espresso to kick-start his brain when he noticed Eve attempting to parallel park in front of the Irvine Building. She had the concept down to a science. She just wasn’t cranking the wheel hard enough. Each of the two tries she’d made had left half of her little red Altima hanging out in the street.
When she pulled out for a third attempt, Rio figured he should put her out of her misery and go park it for her, but a car on the opposite side of the street backed out just then. Before he’d done much more than make the decision to help, she’d shot across both lanes and into the angled space. Seconds later, she was trotting across the street in a beige suit and high heels and smiling sweetly at the driver of an oncoming van who’d slammed on its brakes to avoid spreading her out on the pavement.
He had to hand it to her. He’d bet that more than one person had made the mistake of assuming that Eve, petite and pretty as she was, was as fragile as a hothouse flower. He’d have thought so himself if he hadn’t come up close and personal with her tenacity lately. He knew people twice her age who would have crumbled under her circumstances. Yet she seemed to be handling it all. And handling it alone.
Not wanting to consider why that kept bothering him, Rio turned on his heel and headed through the Herald’s front doors. She was going to see the attorney. He was sure of it. He’d noticed last night that the firm handling her mother’s probate was in the Irvine Building. And, just now, she’d had a large manila envelope in her hand—an envelope similar to the one he’d seen on her dining room table. It didn’t take much to piece the two together.
By way of greeting, Rio lifted his paper cup toward Wendy, the bespectacled, brunette receptionist. A dozen steps later, he was behind the counter that separated the public from the peons and sucking in the perfume of newsprint and scorched coffee drifting up from the basement. He liked taking insignificant little bits of information and fitting them together. That’s what made him good at his job. He also liked to figure out what motivated people, how they felt, what they thought. If he hadn’t been a reporter, he might have been a detective. Stone had told him more than once that he ought to can the newspaper business and become a cop.
If he hadn’t hated guns, he might have done just that. In the meantime, he relied on the adage of the pen being mightier than the sword. Not that he was out to fight any battles. He just had a talent for presenting situations and people as they were. And he’d always been intrigued by puzzles. Even as a kid, he was happiest trying to figure out how or why something did or didn’t work. But as much as he liked fitting pieces of a puzzle together, loose bits that didn’t seem to fit anywhere drove him crazy. There was a stray bit nagging at him now.
Setting his cup by his computer, he flipped through his phone for the number of the Bank of Grand Springs. No reporter wor
th his byline was without contacts, and he had one at the bank that he was about to hit up for anything he could learn about Eve’s brother. Rio could buy what she had said about Hal’s objections to the autopsy. And Hal’s own comment about pushing the investigation of the miners did seem to remove suspicion from him on that score. He could even appreciate that the guy’s stress levels were making him paranoid. But that new Mercedes had put Rio’s curiosity about the man’s finances right over the top.
He had the information he was after by ten-thirty the following morning. But having to cover a hostage situation that developed minutes later prevented him from doing anything about it just then.
* * *
Detective Stone Richardson had been off duty Friday morning when he’d stopped at the main branch of the Bank of Grand Springs to cash a check—and walked into the nightmare Jessica Hanson had warned him about. Thirty-six hours later, having saved the lives of thirteen people at the peril of his own, he was resting somewhat uncomfortably in Jessica’s bed with a bandage over the bullet hole in his shoulder.
Being the good friend he was, Rio had suggested Stone can quit cop work and become a journalist. The words Stone used in reply hadn’t been fit to print.
That had been roughly twelve hours ago. Because the Sunday edition of the Herald was larger than the daily, it was put to bed early Saturday afternoon and on the stands by six. A later edition of the front page went to press at midnight, and that was what landed on subscribers’ doorsteps Sunday morning. The text Rio had phoned in from behind a squad car at the bank for the early edition had been sketchy, given the lack of information coming from inside the cordoned-off bank building. But the story his editor held the presses for at midnight contained details of a tense negotiating session that had broken down completely before the situation had ended in a struggle between police and suspects.
After grabbing a few hours’ sleep, Rio was back at the police station for the official version of the incident and to scrape up what he could on the robbers. All four had served time before and were in holding cells waiting for their court-appointed attorney. It seemed their specialty was hitting small-town banks, and they’d considered Grand Springs an easy target. After a few more interviews, with the bank president and the two tellers he’d missed last night, Rio had Monday’s story ready to go.
Father and Child Reunion Page 9
