Rio knew that hurt. He’d been ten years old when his father had walked away, and he’d been devastated. He’d worshiped the man. But he understood now that being abandoned by a spouse or lover damaged a heart in a different way. He’d learned that himself from Eve. She was why he’d sworn to never again let himself care enough about anyone for it to make any difference whether they stuck around or walked away.
Maybe his mother had done the very same thing. And maybe he was more like her than either one of them had ever realized.
* * *
Eve thought he would have called by now.
Pulling her glance from the silent phone, she turned her attention once more to the printout in her hand. She should be practicing her speech. It was her mother’s speech, actually. The one Eve was to give in four days at a luncheon for five hundred people where she was absolutely certain she’d spill something red on the white suit she was planning to wear just before she stood up to screw up her mother’s carefully chosen words. But that seemed so irrelevant at the moment. Rio had gone to talk to his family two days ago, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since.
She knew he was alive because she’d seen his byline on an article about a boat wreck that had happened yesterday. She even knew he was in town because she’d called the newspaper midafternoon, only to learn that he’d just left on an assignment. Had she left a message, he might have returned the call by now. But one hadn’t seemed necessary. He had to know she was waiting to hear from him. The last thing she’d said when he’d left the other night was “call me when you get back.” She’d even added “Please.”
Retracing the path she’d paced in the living room, she tossed the pages onto the coffee table, covering the calling card the real estate agent had left after showing the house a few hours earlier. She could either try Rio at home, try his cell number or stop worrying about it and clean something.
She didn’t expect him to answer. But he did.
“Eve,” he said, immediately recognizing her voice. “I was going to call you.” The sound of banging metal filtered over the line. “Things have been a little crazy.”
“Are you okay?”
She’d meant to ask if “everything” was okay. Or so she’d thought before the words had come out.
Gripping the receiver a little harder than she should, she sank to the sofa. The silence on the other end of the line seemed to indicate that Rio had caught the difference, too.
“Yeah,” he muttered, apparently having to think about it. A rushing sound, like running water, could be heard in the background. “Like I said, just busy.”
“What are you doing?”
“Laundry.”
She didn’t know why that made her smile.
“Listen,” he began, the flatness in his tone tugging the corners of her mouth right back down, “I’m going to Denver in the morning, but I’ll be back Sunday or Monday.”
“You’re not going to make me wait that long, are you? To find out what happened?”
He knew what she was talking about. She also had the feeling from the length of his pause that he didn’t want to talk about it now—which was why he hadn’t called before.
“It didn’t go well. I can tell.”
“No,” he agreed. “She didn’t take it well at all.”
She. “Your mother? Is she the problem?”
“In a word.”
“Can’t you tell me what she said?”
“Things are just more complicated with her than I’d realized.”
“Rio, come on.” She hated that the rift between him and his mother may have just widened. She hated, too, that he wouldn’t talk to her. “What does that mean?”
He must have sensed her frustration.
“She’s always had a thing about the white community,” he told her, his tone grudging. “I thought it was for the same reasons and prejudices we’ve always dealt with. But she has a more personal prejudice. It seems my father left her for a white woman. It’s been eating at her for years.”
What he said wasn’t nearly as disturbing to her as the way he said it. “What else happened?” she asked, because something in his voice told her there was more that he wasn’t telling her. Something that sounded like hurt.
His pause seemed to indicate that he hadn’t expected her to pick up on that. “Nothing that matters.”
She didn’t believe that for an instant. “But something…”
“Look, I’ve got to go, Eve.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She thought she heard him sigh. But all he said was “No.”
“Are you sure? I’ll help if I can.”
“I can’t imagine what you could do. Anyway, it’s my problem. Not yours.”
“But it is my problem,” she protested, needing him to see that. “Because of Molly.”
“Eve,” he said, sounding very patient, very certain. “My mother is my problem. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”
There was no harshness in his tone, nothing to make her believe he meant to snub her. But his dismissal of her concern stung with a fierceness that took her breath away.
It didn’t make her feel any better to know that she’d left herself wide-open to his rejection. After all, just because he’d opened up a little didn’t mean they were growing closer. She’d reminded herself a dozen times in the past weeks that his interests were only in the investigation and in their daughter. Their relationship existed only because she was the mother of his child. He’d as much as told her that himself.
If she had the brains God gave a grasshopper, she’d take a lesson from him and be more protective of herself.
“Okay,” she returned, willing strength into her voice. “Have a good trip.”
“I’ll call you when I get back. Maybe I can take Molly to the park or something.”
The way he spoke made it sound as if he wanted to take Molly by himself. For a variety of reasons, Eve didn’t let herself consider the thought any further than that. She said only that they’d talk about it when he returned. She didn’t even mention that Detective Richardson had picked up the bowl that had held the gardenias. But, then, Rio probably already knew that. Determined as he was to find a lead in the investigation, she was certain he kept himself up-to-date on the details.
* * *
It was because Rio was so determined to find a lead, and because Eve needed so badly for a lead to be found, that she left a message for him on her way out the door on Monday morning. He’d called as he said he would when he returned from Denver, and they had made plans for him to spend next Sunday with Molly. In the meantime, Hal had sent over a box of things from their mother’s office. Since it contained some personal files, she thought Rio might not want to wait until the weekend to go through them. That was the message she left on his voice mail at the newspaper office just before she left for the Children’s Charity luncheon.
The luncheon was being held at the elegant Randolph’s. From what Eve had been told by Betty Dodd, the fluttery, birdlike lady in charge of the event, it had been touch and go as to whether the wind and water damage to the spacious restaurant would be repaired in time. The work wasn’t finished, but it was close enough. If anyone minded the huge sheets of plastic hanging along one side of the banquet room to keep the construction dust off the fifty beautifully set tables, they kept the thought to themselves. In Grand Springs, nearly everyone was pulling together to “make do.”
“Miss Stuart, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Thank you,” she replied, trying to remember where she’d seen the woman approaching her.
“Eve,” came another voice from behind her. “You don’t know me, but your mother and I were in Toastmasters together for years. It’s so nice of you to do this.”
A woman on her left snagged her arm. “Eve? It’s Candy Hampton. Well, Billings now. We went to grade school together.”
She hadn’t seen Candy since the girl’s family had moved to the other side of to
wn. But there was no time for reminiscing now. Only a quick hug and a promise to call. Betty was tugging on her sleeve.
She got about three steps before she was stopped again.
And so it went as Betty led her through the room filled with volunteers, business leaders and concerned citizens. Aware of eyes on her, responding to greetings and comments as they moved toward the head table, Eve couldn’t help but wonder how her mother had done this. Eve liked people, but she was more accustomed to smaller groups. Olivia Stuart had thrived on the energy a crowd generated.
All it did to Eve was make her feel nauseous.
I can do this, she told herself, smiling when a woman in a western-cut dress told her it was good to see her looking so well. Since she didn’t know the woman from Adam, she could hardly tell her she was looking well thanks to nouveau peach blush and cameo beige foundation. Instead, she politely thanked her, smiled again and moved on at the prod of Betty’s bony elbow.
It was one thing to represent her mother at a small tea or fund-raiser, or to donate an item to a charity in her name. But if her mother hadn’t already written this speech, and had the subject not been so important to her, Eve wasn’t sure she could have spoken to such a crowd.
The fact that the Children’s Charity had meant a great deal to her mother allowed Eve to make it through the next hour on little more than sheer determination. She didn’t even spill anything on her white suit, but that was probably due to the fact that she didn’t touch her meal. When it came time to read her mother’s speech, though, the case of nerves lasted only through the first few lines. After that, having nearly memorized the text, she let the steady cadence of her mother’s words take over.
The words were her mother’s, but as Eve spoke, it became clear to everyone listening that the passion was hers.
Rio certainly heard it.
He’d slipped in to the back of the room and stood off to the side near the door. Petite as Eve was, she'd barely have been seen over the high podium had someone not brought in a step for her to stand on. Even then, only the shoulders of her tailored suit and her sleek blond head were visible. But once the flutter of nerves faded, her voice grew steadily stronger, its natural softness lending a power of its own as she spoke of the right of every child to grow up in a safe, secure environment. Of the growing presence of drugs on their playgrounds and in their schools. Of the need for the community to stand behind teachers and principals and law enforcement in cleaning up the problem before it reached any more of their children. Mostly she spoke of the need for children to be the first priority in every home; that a stable, secure home life, whether that child lived with one parent or both, was essential to teaching the values and accountability so many children were missing today.
That was where her mother had stopped writing. Rio heard her tell everyone that as she looked up from the pages she’d referred to. With a poise he was coming to recognize as a shield, she went on to tell the absolutely silent crowd that she would be grateful to each and every one of them if they would remember what her mother had worked so hard for, and continue that work on her behalf. But just as she was about to thank them, her voice faltered.
It didn’t seem to Rio that it was emotion that got her. Apparently, it was his presence. She’d just noticed him standing there.
Seeming to recover as quickly as she stopped, she continued, finishing her remarks just as the door beside him opened. A tall man with close-cropped blond hair, a swimmer’s build and an air of absolute authority walked in. Rio immediately recognized Jack Stryker, one of the detectives on the Olivia Stuart case. After a nod to Rio, the no-nonsense cop zeroed in on Eve.
The applause was still ringing when a woman with a voice like sandpaper and the presence of a pigeon took over the mike to thank Olivia’s daughter for sharing her mother’s convictions with them. Rio wasn’t sure what was said after that. In the moments before the applause started again and the crowd went into motion, his attention was divided between the detective and Eve, and scanning the room for the man he’d come to see.
The din of conversation rose around him as he headed into the departing crowd. By avoiding the crush in the middle, he made it to Eve before Stryker did, meeting her just as the woman who’d come up to her moved off to flag down a lady in a pink lace hat.
Eve’s smile for him was wary. “What are you doing here? You’re not covering this for the paper, are you?”
“Somebody from Social is supposed to be doing that,” he returned, referring to the section of the paper that handled the human interest stuff. “I’m looking for your brother. His assistant said he’d be here.”
Eve’s smile, strained as it was, faded with her disappointment. “I had understood he would be. I’d hoped he would, anyway.” Seeing the man heading straight for her, concern slipped over her expression. “Why? Has something happened?”
Curious himself about the detective’s presence, Rio’s voice dropped. The room was clearing rapidly, but there were still several pockets of people lingering between the tables. “Not that I’m aware of. I’m just looking for Hal. I don’t know why Stryker’s here.”
“Miss Stuart. Redtree.” Straight Arrow Stryker, as he was known by those who knew him best, gave them an acknowledging nod, then swung his attention back to Eve. “When you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you. No cause for alarm,” he added, obviously aware that his presence could mean just about anything to her. “I just have some routine questions. Finish with the reporter. I’ll wait for you over there.”
Clearly thinking that Rio wanted an interview with her, he indicated a side door to let her know where he’d be.
“We can talk now,” she told the man, over the clatter of tables being cleared. “What kind of questions?”
“I need to see you alone, ma’am.”
His polite but unbending tone made the reason for his insistence clear. He was a cop on official business. Rio was a reporter. He didn’t want to see whatever it was they said in the newspaper tomorrow.
Rio took no offense at the man’s tacit position. They were each just doing their jobs. But Rio was truly torn at the moment. He knew that Jack Stryker was working hard on the investigation, and he wanted badly to know what the detective wanted with Eve. More important than that, he wanted to make sure Eve would be all right with whatever it was. After giving that speech, she was probably running on nothing but reserves.
He didn’t have to ask. Eve’s hand had closed around his forearm. Though he met her eyes for only a moment, he caught her quiet plea. Not knowing what was coming next, she didn’t want to hear it alone.
Don’t go, she seemed to say, though it was to Stryker that she spoke.
“Rio is a friend,” she said, staking more of a claim to him than he would have expected, given the shaky ground of their relationship. “He knows as much as I do about this investigation, so I’d prefer that he stay. I’ll probably wind up telling him whatever we talk about now, anyway.”
Stryker conceded, but only because he knew of Rio’s agreement with Stone to keep certain information confidential. It was imperative that what he asked Eve remain confidential, too, for now. So, with that understanding between the three of them, they left the surreptitious stares coming their way and moved through the side door.
The sound of dishes being cleared could still be heard through the wall. But the narrow hallway, its pearl gray paint waterstained and peeling in sections, was deserted.
“I’d like to know what you know about Josephine Reynolds.”
The soft wings of Eve’s eyebrows arched. “Josie?”
“She goes by that name,” the stone-faced detective allowed. “She worked with your mother.”
“I know. Mom talked about her all the time. But why are you asking about her?”
“For starters, she’s the one who found your mother.”
In other words, she’d been first on the scene. Making a mental note to start cruising back files for anything he could find on the town’s b
eautiful treasurer, Rio watched confusion wash over Eve’s delicate features.
“I’d like to know what you can tell me about your mother’s relationship with her,” Stryker continued. “Were you aware of any rivalry or competition between them? Any disagreements?”
“Heavens, no. Mom’s attitude toward Josie was almost maternal. From what Mom said, they sounded very close.”
“Close enough for her to be named in your mother’s will?”
Eve’s expression went blank. Then, apparently realizing Josie was under suspicion and that the detective was searching for a motive, she scrambled to the woman’s defense.
“She is not named in my mother’s will,” she told him, looking at the man in utter disbelief. “And I can’t imagine what she could have possibly gained by my mother’s death. You don’t actually suspect her, do you?”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
The fact that he hadn’t answered her question was answer enough.
Seeming to sense a trap with his last question, Eve glanced to Rio as if looking for help, then back to the man who seemed as uncompromising as a preacher on Judgment Day. “I’ve only spoken with her a few times. But she was a good friend to my mother, and someone I hope to know better. She seems like a genuinely nice person.”
Rio couldn’t help but think that if Josie were ever arrested and the defense needed a character witness, they could do worse than Eve. But the look Stryker gave her made it apparent he thought her either extraordinarily unobservant or awfully naive, and he called it quits after a few more questions that yielded nothing but more of the same. Since the detective wasn’t getting anything from Eve that would help him build a case, he impatiently thanked her for her time, reminded Rio of their agreement and left the hall the same way they had entered.
Had Rio thought he could get a thing out of Stryker, he’d have followed the guy out himself. But there were certain members of the police department who were more cooperative than others, and Stryker wasn’t usually one of them. Instead, he turned to the woman whose color appeared marginally better, thanks to the agitation she’d felt on behalf of her mother’s friend.
Father and Child Reunion Page 15
