by Pat Warren
Rollie frowned. “See that bar way over there? That’s where I was standing. In this place, no way you’re going to overhear something unless you’re damn near sitting on the guy’s lap. I did notice one thing, though.”
Fallon’s hand under Michael’s tightened into a fist. “What was that?”
“The P.I. handed the girl an envelope. Don’t know what was in it, but I can guess.”
“All right,” Michael said pleasantly, “guess.”
“Had to be money. She opened it and her fingers moved inside like she was counting. Then she smiled at the dude.” Rollie snorted. “I could see that T.J. wasn’t happy, because he held out his hand for the envelope, but she shook her head and slipped it inside her shirt. Smart girl. Money slips through that kid’s hands.”
“What do you know about T.J.?” Michael asked.
“Not much. Like I said, he comes in mostly to hang around, shoot some pool. I catch some guys sneaking him a beer now and then and toss them all out.”
Fallon’s lips were a thin line. Not only did T.J. use cocaine but he drank. What in the world had Laurie gotten into? “Did they stay long? Did they leave together?”
“The P.I. had the girl sign something, then he took off. The kids put their heads together, whispering and arguing. Then T.J. came over to the bar and asked me if my friend, Niko, still had a place up near Lake Elsinore. I told him, sure. He asked me to write out directions to Niko’s. Then they left. Ain’t seen them since.”
“Who is this Niko?” Michael wanted to know.
Rollie drained his mug before answering. “A lucky stiff is what Niko is. Some uncle died and left him a pile of dough. Niko owns a motel on the lake, a restaurant and bar, a big house and a refurbished Bentley he bought from some movie star. But he’s good people, you know.”
“Why would T.J. want to go visit Niko?” Michael asked, truly puzzled at this new development.
“Probably because Niko used to be on the streets until his ship came in. He’s got a soft spot for kids like he used to be. He rents cheap to them, gives them a job when they need one, stuff like that. You ask around L.A. Everybody knows Niko.”
Michael turned to Fallon. “Feel like another trip?”
“What choice do we have?”
“Will you draw us a map to Niko’s?” he asked Rollie.
“Sure. Wait here.” Rollie grabbed his empty mug and made his way back to the bar.
“What do you think?” Michael asked, looking at Fallon’s strained face, wishing he could remove the worry from her.
“I don’t know what to think. Why would the private investigator Roy hired give an envelope of money to Laurie? I don’t get it.” She sighed, feeling weary and confused.
“Do you want to give Roy and your mom a call and see if you can learn anything?”
“No. I’ll only get into another yelling match with Roy, and I doubt if my mother knows what’s going on since she wasn’t aware that he’d hired this Hopkins in the first place.” Thoughtfully, she narrowed her eyes. “I wish I knew what that worm was up to.”
Michael caught Rollie’s eye as he signaled from the bar and rose. “I’ll meet you at the door.” He threaded his way through the tables and took the makeshift map from the bartender. “Thanks.” Turning, Michael pocketed the folded paper.
“No problem. Say, I almost forgot to tell you. That bearded guy who met with the kids? He asked about you, too.”
Michael returned his attention to Rollie. “Oh, yeah? What’d he want to know?”
“About the house for runaways you operate, where it’s located, if you ever came in here, what kind of car you drive, that sort of thing.”
What kind of car he drove? “What’d you tell him?”
Rollie shrugged. “Not much. Told him your place was called Michael’s House, but I didn’t know the address and I didn’t know what you drove. You seen him around?”
“No, I haven’t.” But then, he hadn’t really been watching, either. “If he comes back, tell him nothing, okay?”
“Sure, man. See you.” Rollie turned to wait on a customer.
Michael saw Fallon waiting for him at the front door. He decided not to tell her what he’d just learned. It would only alarm her further.
As soon as Michael’s van turned the corner, he saw the familiar pale gray Lincoln parked in the driveway of Michael’s House. “Well, you’re in for a treat,” he told Fallon. “Jonathan’s here.”
She cast a nervous glance at the big, expensive car, thinking about all it represented. “I don’t think I’m very good company tonight, Michael. Maybe some other time.”
He pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine. “Oh, come on. Just say hello, won’t you, please? I mentioned you to Jonathan on the phone last night. You’ll like him.”
With a sigh of resignation, she got out and followed him inside.
Jonathan Redfield was seated at the scarred oak table in the dining room drinking a cup of coffee with Opal. He rose as they came striding in.
“I was hoping you’d get back before I had to leave,” Jonathan said, reaching to clasp Michael’s hand, then grasp his shoulder for a minihug.
“I’m glad you dropped in.” Michael drew Fallon in closer. “Jonathan, this is Fallon McKenzie. We’ve just been running down a lead on her sister.”
Jonathan’s slim manicured hand shook Fallon’s while his gray eyes looked her over thoroughly. “A pleasure meeting you. I hope you were successful this evening.”
“Somewhat,” Michael told him, pulling out a chair for Fallon while Opal rose to pour coffee into two more cups before excusing herself to go to her room and watch her favorite quiz show.
Seating himself, Michael told Jonathan about their visit to the Rodeo Bar and their conversation with Rollie—all but the last part.
While Michael explained, Fallon had a chance to study his benefactor. Tall and quite slim, Judge Redfield gave the impression of being formidable. He had thick white hair and a trim mustache beneath a patrician nose. His suit was lightweight, pale gray and beautifully made, the creases in his trousers razor sharp. On his right wrist was a gold Piaget and he wore a pinkie ring on his left hand.
But it was his eyes that impressed her. They were the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. Fallon decided that if she ever had to appear in front of a judge, this man would be her first choice.
Jonathan turned his attention to Fallon. “I’m sorry to. hear you’re having such a difficult time tracking down your sister. However, if anyone can find her, Michael can.”
Loyalty and pride and love. Who could ask for more? Small wonder that Michael thought the man walked on water. “Thank you, Judge. I’m sure you’re right.”
“You’re in retail, Michael tells me. A buyer.” His gaze skimmed over her green linen slacks and silk blouse. “I thought you might be a model. You have the look. Lovely.”
She smiled at his flattery and noticed that Michael was watching the two of them closely. Sipping her coffee, she wondered why.
Jonathan turned to Michael. “I came by to tell you that Tim’s announced his engagement and he’s going to ask you to be his best man.”
Michael frowned. “That’s flattering, but he’s too young to get married. He just finished college in May. Can’t you talk them into waiting awhile? He’s got four years of law school ahead.”
Jonathan shook his impeccably groomed head and smiled. “Have you ever tried to talk a young man in love into waiting?” He included Fallon. “Tim’s my grandson. Michael saved his life when he was seven and he acts more like his father than my son-in-law does.”
“I can’t believe that Cynthia and Tom are for this marriage,” Michael went on. “Tim should be thinking about Stanford Law School, not marriage. Did you tell him what a demanding mistress the law is?”
“Of course I did, but he’s in no mood to listen.”
Fallon had never heard Michael so vehement on a subject, not even on his runaways. And she’d never realized he was s
uch a cynic. She decided it would be best if she kept her opinions to herself. Matter of fact, she decided she would let the two men hash out Tim’s future without her.
Rising, she smiled at the judge. “It was good meeting you, but I think I’ll turn in. We’re leaving for L.A. in the morning and I’m rather tired.”
“You can use my Lincoln if you like, Michael. That van’s not terribly reliable, is it?”
Fallon didn’t think it was, either. “Or we can take my Mustang.”
Michael only looked annoyed. “The van’s fine. It runs beautifully. You know I always keep up my vehicles.”
Like the courtly gentleman he was, Jonathan conceded, then rose and took Fallon’s hand in both of his. “I hope we’ll see more of one another when you return.”
“Thank you.” She tried to catch Michael’s eye, but he was staring off into space. “What time do you want to get started?”
“Is seven, seven-thirty, all right with you?”
“Fine. Good night.”
She left the room and was halfway up the stairs when she realized she’d left her shoulder bag on the table. Walking back, she stopped outside the dining room when she heard Jonathan mention her name.
“Fallon’s lovely. She looks familiar. Too familiar.” The judge’s voice lowered. “Michael, she resembles Paige a great deal. I realized it the moment she walked in.”
“Fallon’s not Paige Hanley. She’s not anything like Paige.” His tone was sharp, irritated. His chair scraped on the tile floor as he shoved it back and walked into the kitchen.
“I’m having another cup of coffee. Want one?”
“No,” Jonathan said softly. “I’ve had enough.”
Fallon backed off and retraced her steps. She could get her bag later.
Who, she wondered, was this Paige Hanley that Jonathan thought she resembled, and what was she to Michael that the mere mention of her name could upset him so?
The morning was dreary with rain clouds hovering above as Michael drove north on Interstate 5, the same route he’d taken two days ago. Only this journey would take them inland and, hopefully, turn out to be more fruitful.
He glanced over at Fallon. She had on tennis shoes, white slacks and a red top, and her eyes were hidden behind huge sunglasses when there was no sun. Interesting. Was she trying to hide the ravages of a sleepless night or was she trying to avoid him?
It seemed as if ever since they’d left that seedy motel and rushed back to San Diego, they hadn’t had a shared minute when they weren’t worrying about Laurie, questioning Rollie or talking with Jonathan. He wanted some quiet time when they could concentrate just on each other. His thoughts about Fallon were confused, his feelings jumbled. She touched something inside him no woman had touched before.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Undoubtedly that was one reason he wasn’t sleeping well. Last night, Jonathan had been in one of his chatty moods, staying until nearly midnight. Afterward, Michael had tossed and turned for hours, finally falling into an exhausted sleep so that in the morning, he’d had to force himself to get up. He hadn’t gone downstairs until seven when he’d grabbed a quick cup of coffee before taking off, knowing Fallon was anxious to get going.
He wondered if she’d fared any better. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Her head tipped back on the seat, Fallon stared at the pink and white oleander bushes decorating the median strip. “Fine, and you?”
“Me, too,” he lied. She’d had her door closed with the lights out when he’d finally made it up to his room across the hall from hers. Not that he’d have gone in, anyway—not in the house that he felt belonged to the kids. He had an image to maintain, and emergencies popped up frequently, requiring his immediate attention. Yet he knew he would have slept better if she had shared his bed. One night of making love with her hadn’t been nearly enough. “Have you thought any more about why Laurie would accept money from that investigator?”
Fallon brushed back her hair although the breeze coming in through the open window rearranged it again. “I’ve thought of very little else. I keep talking myself out of all my theories. For instance, maybe Roy intended that she buy an airline ticket and fly back home. But knowing him, if that was his intention, he wouldn’t have left anything to chance. He’d have had Tompkins deliver the ticket to her, not cash.”
“Maybe Rollie couldn’t see all that well. Maybe it wasn’t cash, after all.”
“Then what was it? And why did T.J. get a detailed map to this Niko’s place if Laurie had the envelope and intended to fly back to Colorado? No, I think it was money.”
Michael redirected the van’s air vents. The humidity was heavy in the sea air and it had begun to drizzle. “All right, then, my best guess is that Roy sent the P.I. to find her and pay her hush money.”
Fallon shook her head. “I think you’ve been reading too many detective novels, although I have to admit, I’ve considered the possibility myself. Hush money for what? And don’t give me the same theory about a sexual thing between the two of them. I simply can’t buy that.”
A white Cadillac driven by a bearded man passed them doing well over the speed limit. Fool, Michael thought, then brought his attention back to the discussion. “Okay, then, theory number two. You said that Roy and your sister didn’t get along, almost from the day he married your mother. Maybe he offered Laurie money to go away, so his life would be easier.” He glanced over and saw she was thinking that over.
“I could almost believe he’d do something despicable like that. But why would Laurie go for it? It would take a hell of a lot of money to coax her away from the education she’s always wanted and all her plans for the future, and Roy’s basically very cheap. Besides, there couldn’t be very much money involved if she’s living on the street with some cocaine addict.”
Michael wasn’t one to give up easily. “Then how about this? She could be giving T.J. money for his drugs, if she cares about him.” He noticed her shocked look. “People in love do stupid things.”
Laurie in love? Fallon couldn’t buy that. She’d just met the guy a couple of weeks ago. That thought stopped her short. She’d just met Michael a week ago and she’d already been in bed with him. Who was she to judge her sister?
But, dammit, Laurie was sixteen, not twenty-six, she reminded herself. And a virgin, as far as Fallon knew, at least when she’d left Colorado. Of course Laurie could believe she was in love. Teenage girls often built romantic fantasies around guys. T.J. might appear mysterious and appealing to an inexperienced girl. And Laurie was a dreamer, building castles in the air. “I suppose it’s possible,” Fallon reluctantly admitted.
“I hope that’s not the case,” Michael went on. “But I’ve known people who imagined themselves in love, especially at a young age, and they acted on it, messing up their lives. Then they’ve had to live with that regret.”
Fallon heard the bitterness in his tone and decided he was no longer speaking hypothetically but drawing on his observations. Or maybe personal experience. She remembered his adamant disapproval of Jonathan’s grandson, Tim, who’d decided to marry before completing his education. Was that at the root of Michael’s cynical outlook on young love, or was it something that ran much deeper?
“You’re thinking of Tim, I imagine,” she said, deciding to open this can of worms carefully. “Do you really think that twenty-two is too young to marry?”
The look he threw her was sharp. “Don’t you?”
Fallon shrugged. “It depends a great deal on the people involved. Some men—and women, too—are very mature at that age, while others aren’t capable of making good decisions at thirty-five. I don’t know Tim....”
“I do.” Michael turned right off Interstate 5 onto Highway 174, which was a two-lane trailing through several towns around Lake Elsinore. “In many ways,” he continued, “he’s mature, mostly because he’s the only child of wealthy parents who’ve traveled the world with him and exposed him to all kinds of situation
s. But he’s also inherited Jonathan’s work ethic, which is dedication in the extreme. Tim’s following in his grandfather’s footsteps and the law is terribly demanding. In order to succeed as Jonathan has—to head your own firm and then be elected as a judge, which is what Tim’s told me he wants—his private life will suffer.”
“Did Jonathan’s?”
Michael flipped on the windshield wipers. The drizzle had turned into a mild rainfall. “His situation was different. He had almost an arranged marriage. His wife’s parents were lifelong friends with Jonathan’s family. The two grew up together and always knew they’d marry. Still, they waited until Jonathan had passed the bar and joined his father’s firm. Unfortunately, his wife died two days after giving birth to their only child.”
“Oh, how sad. And he’s never remarried.”
“No. His way of handling his grief was to throw himself into his work. It made him forget and also made him a very rich man.”
“And a very lonely one.”
Michael set the cruise control on the van and relaxed in the light traffic. “To some extent, but he has Cynthia and her husband, Tom, and Tim, of course. And many friends.”
“And you—he has you.” But did family and friends make up for the absence of a loving mate? “I can see that with no wife requiring attention and with his daughter probably being raised by hired help, he had all the time in the world to devote to furthering his career. But he had no personal life, to speak of. Who would choose to live like that?”
A muscle in Michael’s jaw clenched. “We live the hand we’re dealt, Fallon, not necessarily the one we’d choose.”
Was he speaking of himself now? she wondered. “So you feel that with a wife, Tim would be distracted in his study of the law and wouldn’t be a success. Is that it?” She was honestly trying to understand.
“Partly. It’s also the woman he’s chosen to marry.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. “You don’t care for her?”
Michael’s hands tightened on the wheel ever so slightly, but Fallon noticed nonetheless. “Let’s just say that I think Karen has a hidden agenda.”
