His Unexpected Family

by Patricia Johns

  “She’s doing just fine.” Emily glanced down at the baby. “Lunch break for you, too?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Best sub sandwiches here at Lou’s.”

  “Oh, let me introduce my friends,” Emily said. “This is Beth and Nina.”

  Beth smiled and reached out to shake his hand, as far as she could past her pregnant stomach. Nina did the same with a little more flexibility, and both women looked from Emily back to Greg in silence, their sparkling eyes saying more than enough.

  “Nice to meet you,” Greg said, seeming to ignore their silent exuberance and giving them each a polite nod. He looked down at Emily again and touched her shoulder. “Oh, Emily, are you free tomorrow night?”

  “I think so.” She looked back up at him to see something new in his eyes, something that looked almost like nerves.

  “Say, around dinnertime?”

  Emily laughed. “If you agree to feed me.”

  “Deal. Dinner it is. My place.” He shot her a grin just as his phone rang on his hip. He looked down at the number and gave her an apologetic smile.

  “Take it,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  As Greg moved away from the booth, his phone at his ear, Emily looked back to find Nina and Beth staring at her.

  “What?” Emily asked.

  “Just friends?” Beth asked, shaking her head.

  “We were teasing you before,” Nina confessed, “but, girl, there is something going on there.”

  “Like what?” Emily asked.

  “Like dinner!” Beth retorted. “The man just asked you to dinner!”

  “Well, yes, but...” Emily shrugged. “He’s looking into my cousin’s death.”

  “I don’t even have the time to argue some sense into you,” Nina said, opening her wallet and putting down some bills. “Lunch is on me, girls.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” Emily said.

  “I insist.” Nina shook her head. “Em, I was worried about you falling for him. I might need to worry about him falling for you.”

  * * *

  Picking up his phone and moving away from the booth, Greg could feel Emily’s friends’ eyes on his back. He found it halfway amusing to cause a little stir, but more than that, he was downright relieved that she’d said yes to his dinner invitation. It would have been embarrassing to have her turn him down flat with witnesses.

  “Chief Taylor here.” He pinched his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he put some money on the counter and grabbed the to-go bags the server had left for him. “Thanks,” he called to the server, then lowered his voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Chief, it’s Benny.”

  “Do you have anything new?”

  “I do. We found the victim’s cell phone from that 11-80 a few weeks ago. It was jammed underneath a seat in the vehicle.”

  “Excellent.” Greg pushed open the front door, the bell jingling over his head. He looked back in Emily’s direction as he left, and she caught his eye with a small smile. He couldn’t help the happiness that flooded through him at that look in her eyes, and he chuckled to himself.

  “Is this really good news, Chief?” Benny asked.

  “No, no.” Greg inwardly grimaced. “But it’s definitely good news. Were you able to get any information off the phone?”

  “Her call history was intact. It looks like there was one number she was communicating with more than any other.”

  “A boyfriend?” Greg asked. “Did you trace it?”

  “Of course I traced it.” Benny sounded mildly wounded. “And yes, the correspondent was male.”

  “Who was it?”

  “You’re going to love this, Chief. Things just got interesting.”

  “Who was it?” Greg repeated, slowly and succinctly. He was getting irritated.

  “It’s a private number with no voice mail.”

  “Hmm. That’s suspicious.”

  “We’ll need a warrant to get that information from the phone company.”

  “Definitely.” Greg was good at this part. “I’m coming into the station. I’ll make a few calls. We might be able to speed up the process a bit.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He could hear the grin in Benny’s voice.

  “Thanks, Benny. Good work.”

  As Greg snapped the phone shut, he looked back toward Lou’s. He could see Emily’s back in the window, and she had Cora in her arms, the tiny face peering over her shoulder. He sighed. This wasn’t the first time that he felt tempted to have a family of his own, but it was the first time that the temptation was this strong.

  Lord, give me strength.

  He took a deep breath and pulled open his car door. He had an investigation under way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Greg liked open spaces. In fact, if he were to live in his dream home, it would be a log cabin in the Rockies, but that wasn’t very realistic and he knew it. He was a cop first and foremost, and the cop in him won the debate every time. Log cabins in the middle of nowhere had to wait until he could take a few weeks off in a row for a vacation, and so far, that hadn’t happened.

  His house was a rustic little farmhouse on a three-acre lot just a few miles outside of Haggerston. The mountains loomed in the distance, a breathtaking view of white-crusted, jagged peaks out the west side of the house no matter the season. The farmhouse was small, with just a bedroom, small bathroom and kitchen. It had a broad veranda in the front and a little back door exiting off the kitchen in the back, heading out toward the old hand pump. Of course, he had running water and all the amenities, but he liked to use the old pump when he gardened. This little house was technically a historic site for Haggerston, and they probably would never have let him tear it down, even if he’d wanted to build something else. He hadn’t even considered tearing it down, though. The hundred-year-old farmhouse suited him just fine.

  The aroma of a beef roast broiling away in the oven mingled with the garlic mashed potatoes that Greg deposited on the table. He didn’t cook a big meal often, but he was competent in the kitchen, and it felt good to have someone to eat with. Nate’s Steak was a good place if he wanted company over a meal, but wings and fries were going to take a toll on the old ticker if he didn’t watch it now.

  The windows were all open, letting the heat of cooking out and a cool breeze in. Emily’s car crunched down the drive, and he headed over to the front door. The late-afternoon light was golden and warm, spilling over the veranda in a familiar embrace. As Emily got out of the SUV, she waved at Greg with a brilliant smile. He couldn’t help but admire her in the blue sundress she wore, long and flowing. She was a beautiful woman, and he found himself very aware of that fact. As she pulled Cora from the vehicle, she shot him another grin.

  “Hi!” he called. “Did you find the place all right?”

  “Oh, yes.” She looked down at Cora and wiped a little dribble from the baby’s chin. “You gave great directions.”

  “Sorry about the little show there in front of your friends.” He felt the heat rising in his neck. “I probably shouldn’t have done that. I wanted to give you some updates, and this seemed more comfortable than my office.”

  “Oh, no worries—they haven’t had that much fun in ages.” Emily laughed, hiking the baby bag higher on her slender shoulder.

  Her hair hung loose down past her shoulders, swinging in a shimmering swath over the top of her back. Stepping inside after her, he left the door open to keep the breeze moving.

  “This place is amazing.” Emily turned a full circle, looking over the refinished sitting room. He’d taken down the multiple layers of wallpaper, down to the boards. Then he’d whitewashed all of it, leaving more of a cottage feel to the place with a big circular rug in the center of the room. A potbellied stove stood prominen
tly against the far wall, and a bookshelf held a collection of old family photos from group shots of generations past to a picture of his dad in police uniform, his mom smiling up at him adoringly. That was how he liked to remember them—still together.

  “Thanks.” Greg felt a bit of pride in his personal space. He wasn’t one for a lot of visitors, tending to go out to socialize. “I wanted to keep it rustic.”

  “You’re a log cabin kind of guy, aren’t you?” she asked over her shoulder as she followed her nose toward the big, old stove.

  “How did you know?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure.” She turned back again. “You just seem like the type to enjoy a sunrise and a faithful dog.”

  Greg chuckled. “Shotgun across my knee? Toothless?”

  “Hiking boots. Cup of coffee.” She gave him a cheerful smile, and he was surprised at how well she’d picked him. She’d actually described a perfect moment, truth be told.

  “So what about you?” He chuckled. “Fifth Avenue? Swanky apartment?”

  “Hardly!” She laughed. “I’d be your neighbor a few miles over. I’d really like to get far enough away from town to see the stars the way God intended.”

  “Really?” He eyed her with mild surprise.

  “But not now.” She looked over at Cora. “I have a little girl to raise alone, and I think I’d rather do that closer to family, if you know what I mean.”

  He nodded. He could understand that. Space was a great thing until you needed help, and then it was a curse. He liked the idea of having her live as close to him as possible, though.

  “So what’s cooking?” she asked.

  “A roast and potatoes,” he responded. “Nothing too fancy, but it was a chance to show off a bit.” He smiled to himself at his little joke. “Actually, I have a bit of a lead on your cousin’s case.”

  “What did you find?” She frowned and sank into a kitchen chair by the little table.

  Greg grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard and set about getting the rest of the meal on the table while he talked. “Well, first of all, we found your cousin’s cell phone in the wreckage of the car, and her call history was still intact.”

  Emily was silent, her eyes pinned on him as he grabbed some oven mitts and pulled the big roasting tray out of the oven. The roast was nicely browned and sizzling. He stabbed it with a fork and pulled it out onto the cutting board to slice.

  “There was one number that she communicated with more than others,” he continued slowly. “So we focused on that one. It was a private number, and I had to go ahead and get a quick warrant from Judge Lincoln in order for the phone company to release any information to me, but once they did, I could see what all the secrecy was about.”

  “What was it?” Emily leaned down to take Cora out of her car seat.

  “He’s Charles Lindgren.”

  Emily sat back up, Cora looking surprised at the quick ride up, and Emily equally surprised at Greg’s information. “Charles Lindgren? The senator?”

  Greg nodded as he sliced the roast and laid the pieces on a plate. He paused in the task to look over at her. “But that isn’t what I wanted to focus on.”

  “Okay...” Emily eyed him uncertainly, and he brought the plate of meat over to the table, along with a bowl of fresh greens. “So what’s the important part here?”

  “He’s an older man with no children. His wife is younger than he is. If the money in your cousin’s account came from him, it’s possible that she was a surrogate mother for the couple.”

  “Do you think?” Emily frowned. “A baby surrogate... That sounds more like something people from Hollywood do.”

  “Or people with money. You have to be able to pay the young woman quite well to make it worth her while to carry another couple’s pregnancy to term.”

  “If that were the case, she might have been running away with her baby, not wanting to give her up.”

  Greg nodded. “It’s a possibility right now.”

  “What are the other ones?”

  “The most obvious, I suppose.” Greg sat down opposite Emily and sighed. “I know it might not be pleasant to hear, but it’s quite possible that she had an illicit relationship with the senator.”

  Emily nodded slowly. “It does look that way, doesn’t it?”

  “I know that TV makes police work look so dramatic, but we generally find that if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”

  She nodded, not needing him to finish.

  “But what I need from you is more of a gut reaction.” Greg dished some potatoes and meat onto her plate, then served himself. “I’m just throwing out possibilities here, and you knew her.”

  Emily was silent for a long moment. “I have to say, being a politician’s mistress? That doesn’t sound like Jessica. She wasn’t that type.”

  “What type was she?”

  “The flower child. The free spirit.”

  “The surrogate mother?”

  Emily shook her head. “I wish I knew.”

  “Senators don’t set up private cell-phone numbers for no reason,” Greg added. “And they don’t have regular conversations with relatively poor artists for no reason, either. There was something to that relationship, and I want to find out what.”

  Emily looked over at Greg, fear flickering in her eyes. He was used to reading people’s emotions in his line of work, and hers were coming across loud and clear. She was scared.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, softening his tone.

  “Is there someone else who’s going to want her?” Emily asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

  “Look, Emily...” Greg put down his fork, mentally chastising himself for being so stupid. “I’m just kind of brainstorming here. I’m really sorry. None of these things are proven. I’m just trying to figure out where to go with this. The senator is definitely a curiosity. I don’t know what’s happening yet. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, no...” Emily reached across the table and gave his hand a quick squeeze in a spontaneously intimate gesture. “I’m no wilting flower over here. I asked you to look into it, and you warned me that I might find some things that I didn’t want to know. So it serves me right.”

  His hand felt warm where she’d touched him, and he closed his fingers.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Greg looked her in the eye, watching for signs of her true emotions on the matter, and when she shook her head in the negative, he believed her.

  “No, this is better, actually. If I don’t know, I’ll always wonder and worry, waiting for the day someone shows up with more claim to her than I have. It’s better to just face it, I think.”

  Greg liked her in that moment. It was more than attraction. It was more than interest. He saw strength, an ability to face life head-on, and he very sincerely liked Emily Shaw. He gave her a slow smile and nodded. “You’ve got grit.”

  “So what’s the next step?” she asked.

  “I look into this senator. I trace those big deposits in her checking account.”

  “It sounds like you know what you’re doing.” She looked down at Cora again, her eyes misting with sadness.

  “Emily.”

  She looked up.

  “I don’t want you to worry about this. I’m still kicking myself for saying too much, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as a cop, it’s that the investigation isn’t over till the fat lady sings.”

  “And who’s the fat lady here?” Emily asked, humor shining past the sadness.

  “I think the fat lady is the senator this time around. It doesn’t make sense right now because we don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle. When we do, it’ll make perfect sense. Until then, nothing is answered, okay?”

  “Okay.” She nodded and straightened her
spine. “You’re right.”

  They focused on eating after that, and after they had finished much of the meal, Greg looked down at Cora. Emily had pulled out a bottle, and she was drinking hungrily, her eyes drooping in fatigue.

  “So...” He lifted his eyes to meet Emily’s thoughtful gaze and blurted out matter-of-factly, “I made dessert.”

  “Oh?” Emily’s eyes lit up. “Greg, you can really cook. I’m impressed. So what’s for dessert?”

  Greg pushed himself back from the table and headed to the fridge. Waiting in two soup bowls that did nothing for presentation was the chocolate mousse he’d whipped up the night before. He figured he’d inflicted enough damage for one day, and it was time to start soothing the wounds with chocolate.

  He remembered being a small boy and watching his father make chocolate mousse. His big, muscular dad would stand there with the mixer, whipping up the fluffy mounds of chocolate.

  “Do you know why I’m making mousse, son?” he’d asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because your mother loves it. One day you’ll get married, too.”

  “Will I have to make mousse?”

  “If you know what’s good for you!” Then his dad would throw back his head and belt out his hearty laugh. “I’ll show you how. Don’t you worry.”

  Then Greg would get to lick the beaters, which had always been his favorite part.

  His dad never had shown Greg how to make chocolate mousse. He’d died before that little father-son moment came their way, so one day, on the anniversary of his father’s death, Greg had gone online, found some chocolate-mousse recipes and put himself to work. He’d never had the “guy talk” with his father. He’d never been advised on how to deal with his first date or his first kiss. He’d never been told how to be a good husband or how to deal with women, besides the little secret of chocolate mousse. So learning how to make the dessert had become a way to connect with his dad long-distance, so to speak.

  Coming back to the table with a dish of chocolate mousse in each hand, he couldn’t help the smile that played at the corners of his lips as he saw Emily’s eyes light up.