Finding You

by Maureen Child

  “She’s six.”

  Shit. “Okay, Mr. Wyatt. Wait there. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” But the man had already hung up. Apparently, his “calming” tone didn’t work any better on Jackson Wyatt than it did on Beth. And, grumbling to himself, Tony headed for the door and the squad car parked right outside.

  * * *

  As she rounded the house, Carla’s gaze swept the area. Trees, dozens of them, surrounded her lot. Pines, poplars, and even an oak that looked older than time tossed shade onto the grass and set the brass wind chimes hanging from the corner of the house to singing. A slider swing, painted a bright blue, sat empty beside a fountain that burbled noisily. The flower beds were just coming to life, tender green shoots spearing through the dark earth, and in a few weeks there would be splashes of color to brighten up the yard. The puppy enclosure took up the back half of the lot. Six golden retriever pups currently lived in the three large white doghouses set behind chain-link fencing—her house might be dusty, but the puppy pen was spotless.

  Carla had never claimed to be Suzy Homemaker. Despite her mother’s best efforts at taming her only daughter, Carla had always preferred being outside. Came from having three older brothers, she guessed. She’d played football and baseball and had been falling off her skateboard while other little girls were having tea parties with their dolls.

  She pushed her hair back from her face and quickened her step. The still-damp grass felt cool against her feet, and a chill swept up her spine. From the direction of the puppies’ enclosure came the sharp yips and barks that heralded the start of another day. But it was different this morning. Louder. More excited, somehow.

  Carla headed for the chain-link fence and spotted Abbey, sitting beside the fence, ignoring the puppies clamoring over one another on the other side. Of course, Abbey was a sucker for being petted. And the little girl rubbing the dog’s head was clearly enjoying herself as much as the golden was.

  “Hi.”

  The girl’s head snapped up and wide blue eyes fastened on Carla as she approached. But an instant later, those eyes were shifting from one side to another as if the child was looking for a quick getaway.

  “It’s okay.” Carla stopped and lifted both hands. “You’re not in trouble or anything.” The girl relaxed a fraction but still looked ready to bolt. Slowly Carla dropped her hands, then shoved them into her pockets. While Abbey whined and pushed her head beneath the child’s hand, Carla studied the girl.

  Young. No more than seven or eight. Blond hair messily pulled into pigtails on either side of her head. She looked too thin, as if she hadn’t been eating enough, and her pink shorts and yellow-striped T-shirt were rumpled, not to mention mismatched. She wore neon green tennis shoes, with Scooby-Doo on the toes, and a wary expression on her face.

  Her small hand continued to smooth over the top of Abbey’s head, and knowing her dog, Carla realized the golden was about to melt into a puddle of affection. Where had the kid come from? Carla’s first instinct was to take the girl inside and give her some milk while she called Tony at the station house. But a moment later, she realized that the kid probably belonged to the summer renters.

  Oh, this is a good start to the summer, she thought wryly. Not a house full of noisy teenagers this year—but at least one small girl who obviously had a soft spot for puppies.

  But then, who didn’t?

  Carla looked past the girl at the puppies and smiled to herself. “Cute, aren’t they?”

  The child didn’t say anything, but her gaze shifted to the puppies climbing over one another in an attempt to get to her through the chain link. And a small smile curved that little mouth.

  “Yeah,” Carla said, moving slowly as she walked closer. “I think goldens are the cutest puppies ever. They look like little white puffballs, don’t they?” She took a seat on the grass beside Abbey and carefully kept her distance from the child. After all, Carla didn’t know what was going on here.

  From the look of things, the girl was being neglected. Angela Candellano would have died before letting one of her children go out looking like an orphan. Orphan. Maybe she didn’t have parents. Maybe she wasn’t from the Garvey house. Maybe she’d wandered away from … somewhere. A campsite down by the lake? On the beach? After all, it stood to reason that if she was with the new summer rentals, wouldn’t someone be out looking for her by now?

  Carla watched the girl as she poked small fingers through the gray chain link, letting the all-too-happy-to-oblige puppies chew and suck at her fingertips. There was a sweet but lost look to her, and Carla’s long-suppressed maternal instinct suddenly kicked into high gear. Surprised the hell out of her.

  “Are you lost?”

  A quick shake of the head and one of those pigtails slipped another notch.

  “Does your mom know where you are?”

  Those big blue eyes fastened on her again and this time they were filled with sudden tears.

  Oh, man.

  “Reese!”

  A man’s voice, deep and scared, roared over the din of the puppies. The girl jumped, obviously nervous, and Carla came to her feet, waiting for whoever was coming. Abbey, too, went on alert, standing up and positioning herself in front of the girl.

  He stomped around the side of the house. Long legs looked even longer in faded blue jeans. The black polo shirt he wore made his fair skin seem paler, and his light brown hair looked as though he’d shoved his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes were as blue as the girl’s, and Carla watched as they scanned the yard frantically, finally coming to rest on the child beside her.

  Relief rushed across his features, quickly followed by a carefully banked anger.

  “Reese. You shouldn’t have just left the house.” He walked around Carla, not even acknowledging her presence. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or insulted. He did, however, give a moment’s pause to Abbey. But apparently not sensing any danger, the dog moved out of his way. Going down on one knee, he turned the child’s face toward his and said, “Don’t do that to me again. You scared me to death.”

  “Scared me a little, too,” Carla said, not that anyone was listening. “I didn’t know where she belonged.”

  Neither of them looked at her.

  The child nodded, but he wasn’t finished.

  “You can’t just wander off. It isn’t safe. You could have been hit by a car when you crossed that road.”

  “It’s not a busy road,” Carla put in.

  He ignored her.

  “Now come on,” he said, standing up and helping the girl to her feet. “We’ll go home and I’ll make you breakfast.”

  The little girl mimed putting her hand into a bag.

  “Cookies?” the man asked. “No, you can’t have cookies for breakfast.”

  Carla shrugged. Most people just didn’t know how to live. “You know,” she said, and waited until he was looking at her, finally, before she continued. “It’s customary in some tribal communities to actually say thank you to someone who’s helped you out.”

  “Thank you?”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He gave her a look that was decidedly ungrateful. “Look, Ms.…”

  “Candellano. Carla.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry my daughter and I disrupted your morning.”

  She smiled at the child before looking at him again. “She didn’t disrupt me at all.” She looked up into eyes the same color as the girl’s and wondered what kind of man he was. He obviously wasn’t paying enough attention to his daughter. The girl was running around alone, first thing in the morning, in a strange neighborhood—looking like an extra in Annie. “But you and her mother should keep a better eye on her.”

  Jackson glared at her, but she didn’t back up an inch. Any other time, he might have admired that. But this was now and, damn it, he’d already had enough trouble for one morning. His gaze swept her up and down, from the top of her black curly hair, to the tips of her bright pink toenail polish, to the tiny silver toe ri
ng on her left foot. Her features were fine: a straight, even nose, full lips, and wide, expressive brown eyes that looked as though they could see through a man to his soul. Which was a little disconcerting when a man had a soul that no one should be looking at. She had a curvy body and a sassy attitude that was alluring and irritating all at once. An instinctive, purely male response blasted through him and was quickly shut down. One thing he didn’t need at this stage of the game was a summer fling. The next three months were too important to blow on some brown-eyed free spirit with a smart but great-looking mouth.

  “Her mother’s dead.”

  Beside him, he felt Reese’s withdrawal, and it was all he could do to keep his anger trapped inside. He shouldn’t have blurted it out like that, but he wasn’t going to stand here and be lectured by a woman he’d never seen before. And he’d figured that the blunt statement would shut her up so he could take Reese back to the house.

  It didn’t work.

  “That’s too bad.”

  She surprised him. Usually the first words someone said to him were, I’m sorry. As if they’d had something to do with Diane’s accident. It was pointless pity. Good manners. Nothing more. And he appreciated the fact that she hadn’t said it. For that alone he was almost ready to give her the thank-you she’d wanted earlier.

  Almost.

  “Yeah. Well, I’ve got to get back to the house. I called the police when I found Reese missing and I’d better go call and let them know she’s been found.”

  “Oh,” she said, waving one hand at him. “I’ll do it.”

  “Why the hell would you do it?”

  She cocked her head to one side and stared at him. “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you? Tony—the sheriff—is my brother.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Oh God, any more charm and I may swoon.”

  “Jesus, Carla,” another voice piped up, and she half-turned to watch Tony stroll up, a solid, familiar figure in a buff beige uniform with a star pinned to his left breast pocket. “Cut the man a break.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “One cup or two so far?”

  “One.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Surrounded by crabby men.” She paused and sighed dramatically. “A girl’s dream come true.”

  “Sheriff?” Jackson Wyatt turned toward Tony like a man reaching for a life preserver in a stormy sea and held out one hand. “Thanks for coming.”

  He nodded, shook hands, and let his gaze cut to Reese. He smiled, but those sharp eyes of his were taking in the kid’s appearance and Carla knew his cop’s mind was churning. “Happy to help. Glad you found her.”

  “Reese came to visit the puppies,” Carla said.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  The little girl’s face fell as she shifted her disappointed gaze from her father, to Abbey, to the puppies as if she’d just been told Santa was dead and the Easter Bunny was rabid.

  Carla idly stroked Abbey’s head as the dog sat down beside her and leaned all of her ninety-five pounds against Carla’s leg. Used to it, she simply locked her knee and leaned back in to the dog to keep her balance. Deliberately ignoring both men, she looked at the little girl and said, “She can come back anytime. It’s okay with me.”

  The child’s face lit up and her eyes shone as she turned and looked up at her father for permission just as he said, “It’s not okay with me.”

  Carla wanted to kick him. Okay, he’d lost his wife. But he still had a daughter. A daughter who was obviously looking for something that he wasn’t giving her.

  “Now if you’ll excuse us…” the man said, nodding to Tony and deliberately avoiding looking at Carla. “We’ll be going home now.”

  She opened her mouth to say … well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she would have said, but Tony’s hand on her arm cut off the attempt anyway.

  Once the Wyatts were out of sight, she looked at her brother. “Do you believe that guy?”

  Tony sighed, bent down to rub the belly Abbey so thoughtfully provided by rolling over and losing every shred of her dignity. Glancing up at Carla, he said, “If you’re gonna bitch at me, can you at least give me some coffee?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU ASK him some questions?”

  “Jesus, Carla. The man was a wreck, worried about his kid.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, and pulled the edge of the yellow-and-white curtain back so she could watch Mr. Charm and his daughter walk back to the Garvey cottage. The man matched his steps to the child’s, and even from a distance Carla could tell that he was talking to her. Probably warning her away from the dangerous puppies—and any opportunity for fun.

  “Poor kid,” she muttered.

  “She looked well fed and well dressed to me.”

  “Are you serious?” She dropped the curtain and turned around to glare at her brother. “Her hair looked like he took a weed whacker to it. And please. I mean, would Beth ever let little Tina out of the house in a mismatched outfit?”

  Tony’s gaze dropped to the surface of his coffee. He began stirring it as though it required all of his concentration. “No. Beth’s a great mother.…”

  She frowned and watched him, suddenly noticing the body language she’d missed before. He sat hunched at her kitchen table, one hand gripping the stoneware mug, the other still using a spoon to churn the coffee hard enough (had it been milk) to make butter.

  Carla loved all of her brothers, but that didn’t make her blind to their flaws. And God knew, they all had plenty of them. But brooding had never been one of Tony’s. Until today, apparently. Leaning back against the yellow-tiled counter, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “There’s a ‘but’ hanging at the end of that sentence.”

  He glanced at her. “No, there isn’t.”

  Hmm. Maybe she wasn’t so far off the night before when she’d guessed that there was trouble in paradise. Tony and Beth had been high school sweethearts. Prom King and Queen. The captain of the football team and the head cheerleader. They were, in fact, every odious high school cliché ever written. And they’d managed to carry that right on through college. It would have been so easy to hate them both. Except for the fact that they’d been in love since the moment they met in freshman year.

  They’d been the golden couple, and seeing them marry and have a baby and begin to live their happily-ever-after was … comforting, somehow. Especially to someone like Carla—whose legendary fiascoes in the romance department made Edgar Allan Poe’s tales read like Harry Potter.

  Like the time she decided to meet Jim Hennesey in Florida for the weekend. Hurricane Hilda swept through and ripped their little beach shack right down to its last palm frond. With them in it. Or the time she was sweet-talked into the backseat of Bob Bennet’s Camaro. Just when things started to get interesting, the beam of a cop’s flashlight landed on her naked behind and Bob shoved her away so fast, he swore later that he’d broken “it” and was now a eunuch. Then there was the blind date from hell. She arrived at the restaurant to find her “date” already there and buying drinks for the sock puppet he wore on his left hand. Of course, the sock insisted that Carla buy her own drinks. Which she had. Several of them, as she recalled. But she’d drawn the line at sharing her steak with the puppet.

  She shivered at the memory. But it wasn’t just her disastrous dating habits keeping her from diving into the singles pool. It was more that Carla just couldn’t bring herself to care deeply about anyone right now. There was just too clear a chance for being hurt. And her heart was still a bit too bruised to take another hit at the moment.

  Nope. Think I’ll pass on romance, thanks.

  But Tony and Beth were different.

  Picking up the coffeepot, she carried it to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite her oldest brother. Refilling his cup and then hers, she asked, “So what’s going on with you and Beth?”

  His gaze shot to hers quickly. Actually too quickly. Good thing he was a cop rather than a criminal.
His poker face stunk.

  “Leave it alone, Carla.”

  “Hey, I didn’t bring it up.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Okay, I did. But you can’t really blame me. You’re usually walking around with a huge irritating smile on your face and now—”

  “Fine. I’ll smile.”

  She blinked at the fierce expression on his face. “You’re baring your teeth, not smiling.”

  “Whatever.” He picked up his coffee, gulped it down despite how hot it was, then shoved back from the table. Standing up, he looked down at her. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”

  Carla glanced at the yellow-ducky wall clock hanging opposite her. Its battery-operated eyes rolled counterclockwise and its orange feet paddled back and forth as if swimming across the cream-colored wall. Shaking her head, she looked back at him. “Oh, yeah, it’s nearly seven-thirty. Crime wave’s about to start.”

  “Funny.”

  “Hey, it’s early.” She stood up, too. “Tony, if there’s anything I can do to help—”

  “I don’t—we don’t need help,” he said, his voice cutting across hers like a whipcrack. She looked mad, but that was better than the glimmer of sympathetic concern he’d been reading in those brown eyes a minute ago.

  Tony didn’t need sympathy. He and Beth had been together for years and that wasn’t going to change. Every married couple had arguments, he told himself, ignoring the cold, hard knot in his guts. They’d get past this. As soon as Beth stopped being so damn stubborn and started listening to reason again and … Carla was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. And hell. Maybe he had.

  “Tony.”

  “Carla, for the love of God, let it go.” He headed for the kitchen door, eager to get back to work. He’d lose himself in paperwork. Chase down complaints. Anything. Hell, anything to keep from thinking about what he knew damn well was going to plague him all day. He grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and paused long enough to look at his sister.