Would they ever create another new home together?
Or was that part of their lives, that beautiful, blessed part of their lives over, too?
The sound of tires slowing to a stop on the street dragged her from her thoughts and, somehow, she wasn’t surprised when she heard her father’s surprised voice. “Meggie?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“ARE THERE A LOT MORE of these books?” Violet tried not to sound miserable. She didn’t want her dad to think that she didn’t want to spend time with him at work.
It was kind of neat being inside the police station as the chief’s daughter, which was way better than making the trip in the back of a cruiser. But she was going to become cross-eyed if she didn’t get a break from looking at photo after photo after photo of faces. There were, like, rows and rows of them on every-page. And each book was fatter than the last Harry Potter.
She was looking for Great Eye guy, but she kept scanning those faces and hadn’t seen him yet. Which was a total bummer because she didn’t want to disappoint her dad.
But she was sorry she’d ever gone inside that tattoo place. Except that if she didn’t have to look for Great Eye guy, Mom would probably have tried to take her home already.
Violet flopped back in the chair and grabbed the can of Mountain Dew that one of the officers had brought her. The can had sweat all over her dad’s desk, so she used a sleeve to wipe the water away before it stained. Taking a deep swig, she wished it was a Red Bull. Mom didn’t let her drink those, but Maddie brought them to school all the time. No big deal.
Everything was a big deal to Mom. It was so unfair.
All Violet wanted to do was get to know her dad. How was that wrong? He’d been right here in New Orleans her whole life, but she hadn’t known about him. Because of Mom.
Taking another swig, she glanced around for some tissues or something to use as a coaster before she ruined her dad’s desk. She settled on a folded-up piece of paper from the trash. The last thing she needed was both parents pissed off.
Mom hadn’t made a big deal out of Violet saying she wanted to live with Dad. Mom hadn’t even been home when Dad came to get her, but Violet knew better than to think Mom didn’t care. The only time Mom didn’t jump in with all her Mary Sunshine let’s-fix-it crap was when she didn’t have a clue what to do.
Good. She deserved to feel crappy. As crappy as she’d made everyone else feel. This situation sucked.
The door opened and her dad came in. “How’s it going? Any luck?”
She hated disappointing him. “I still have a couple of books to look through. Maybe in there.”
“Fingers crossed.” He started digging through a pile of folders on his desk. “Listen, I know we talked about doing that dinner cruise tomorrow night, but Tess called—” He looked up with a stupid grin. “Your aunt Tess called. Her uncle is a race car driver who’ll be competing at Dixie Downs. She wanted to know if you’d like to go with them. She can get an extra pass. Ever been to a race?”
Violet shook her head. “It sounds really cool.”
“It is. Aunt Tess’s uncle is the Exterminator, one of the nation’s top-ranked drivers. It’s good luck that he’s in town when you are. Interested?”
“Can we do the cruise a different night?”
He set aside a pile of folders, obviously not finding what he was looking for. “Sure.”
“Okay, then I’d like to go to the race.”
“I’ll call Tess back and let her know. You’ll take care of letting your mom know?”
“I’ll text her.” She had no clue what Mom was up to right now or tomorrow. Hadn’t bothered asking. “I was wondering…”
Her dad stopped what he was doing. “What?”
“Did I get the guy who pierced my nose in trouble?”
He shrugged. “Not too much. A hefty fine. But don’t feel too bad. He wouldn’t have even gotten fined if he’d have told us who Great Eye guy is.”
“You think he knows?”
Her dad settled in with a hip against the desk. “Before I became chief of police, I was commander of the Eighth District, which is where that tattoo parlor is. The guy who owns it—the guy who gave you that piercing—knows everything that goes on in his place, which is why he’s still in business. He just needs some convincing to cooperate. Hitting him in the cash register usually works.”
God, this was so cool. Talking to her dad was just like an episode of SVU. She loved SVU! She and Camille would stay awake all night, watching episode after episode on the computer.
“But it didn’t work this time?”
“Not yet. Not even when I threatened that your parents would press charges.”
“You’re going to press charges because I got a nose ring?” Violet wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“No. Never make it before a judge. I only told him that so he knows we mean business. Try to convince him it’ll be easier if he cooperates.”
“Oh, I get it.”
“It’s weak, but the only thing I can do is inconvenience him at this point. I need to find out who Great Eye guy is so I can ask who he was delivering the envelope for.”
“I promise if he’s in here, I’ll find him.”
“I know.” He went back to searching his piles. “Remember that I wouldn’t even have this information if you hadn’t been paying attention that night. That’s been a big help already.”
She liked that and was glad he didn’t think she was some sort of creeper because she’d been stalking him. “You know, the longer your investigation goes on, the longer I stay in town.”
“That’s true.” He looked over again, seemed to think what she said was significant. “You know that your mother and I will work out something so we can see each other, right? In fact, since you’re going to the race tomorrow night, maybe I’ll suggest she and I get together to discuss it. Sound good?”
It sounded ridiculous. She knew he was trying to be all reassuring, but he was totally treating her as if she was a little kid. She was way old enough to go before a judge and tell him where she wanted to live. She’d already checked online and there were lots of cases where people her age got to decide which parent they wanted to live with.
But Violet didn’t tell her dad that. Not until she got to feel him out some more, not until she knew if he’d let her live with him.
“You know, my name is officially DiLeo.” Wasn’t she sorry she kept Bell now? “Well, it will be when all the paperwork comes. I could, like, live here and we could see each other all the time.”
He tipped his head to the side and got this funny sort of smile. “Yeah, you could. We’d have to see what your mother has in mind, though.”
Violet frowned, not sure what to say, but very sure that wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear from her brand-new dad.
There was a knock at the door and some official-looking dude with a name badge and briefcase came in.
“Violet,” her dad said. “I’d like you to meet U.S. Attorney Andy Fielder. Andy, my daughter, Violet.”
“Pleased to meet you, young lady.” Mr. U.S. Attorney shook her hand then turned to her dad. “Is now still a good time to talk?”
“Yeah, come on,” her dad said. “Violet, you keep looking. I’ll be back.”
She smiled and watched them go, thinking that maybe her plan to move to New Orleans wasn’t so hopeless, after all. Not if Dad was introducing her to his work buddies.
That had to be good, right?
NIC LED ANDY FROM HIS office and down the hall to a conference room. “Hope you don’t mind if we talk in here. Easier than relocating her with all those suspect books.”
“Looked like she was trying to be thorough for her new dad.”
“Yeah. That she is. Very thorough. It’s slow going.”
Andy laughed. “I’ll bet. She looks just like you, Nic. I can’t believe you didn’t know about her until a few days ago.”
“Yeah, me, either.”
Nic had shared his so
rdid little tale during the phone call that prompted this meeting. Andy was a family man himself, relocating his wife and sons from Washington, D.C., to take this gig in New Orleans. Nic was counting on him to understand the concerns about Violet’s safety.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to the conference table then pulled the door shut behind them.
Andy shrugged off his suit jacket and sat. “Any luck with the tattoo parlor owner?”
Nic sank into a chair opposite. “Planted the seed and made a few bucks for the department. That’s about it. I’d like to say that he’ll think twice before piercing any minors without adhering to the law, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“So what’s the next move?”
“That’s why you’re here, Andy. I’m debating my options. I want to make sure I cover all the bases since impeaching a judge is tricky business. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“That’s the truth.” Reaching into his briefcase, he withdrew a folder and set it open on the table. He leafed through the documents inside. “I pulled what I could get on Judge Dubos, and I’m not at peace with what I’m seeing. He’s long established on the bench. A lot of powerful connections, which translates into a lot potential to take a wrong turn somewhere along the way.”
No surprises there. Said something when even a newcomer to New Orleans could see signs spelling trouble. On the other hand, that was Andy’s whole reason for being here.
“Judicial bribery and conspiracy is nasty business, Nic. You’re going to have to make sure you cross every t and dot every i,” Andy cautioned. “We’re talking Congress and impeachment inquiries and hearings to insure constitutional rights. It’s a mess. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I read all about the last one you were involved with.”
Andy scowled. “Classic kickback scheme. Pretty simple really, but nearly a hundred inmates were released over a five-year period. It was obscene.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” Nic said. “I’ve got too many criminal defendants waiting to get before a judge. A dishonest one only makes my wait longer. I assigned some men to comb through the judge’s cases. One by one. That’s the only way to see if there’s anything there.”
“Good start, but that’s going to take time. What are these options you’re talking about?”
“I’m trying to get the tattoo parlor owner talking, so I can ID the runner.”
“You need to bring them all in.”
Nic shook his head. “I’m not sure I want the judge to know we’re onto him yet. Not until I have a lock on the runner and know who he’s working for.”
“Because of your daughter?” Andy asked.
Nic nodded.
“But they don’t know who she is. You didn’t even know who she was.”
“No argument there, either.”
“Then you need to force their hands, Nic. Get everyone worrying so someone makes a mistake. Especially the judge. The only way to protect your daughter is with a conviction, you know that. The sooner you build your case, the sooner she’ll be out of the equation.”
“Under any other circumstances I might agree, but the minute I tip my hand then every one of them will know I’ve got something. Or in this case someone. It won’t be any stretch to pinpoint the kid who was in the tattoo parlor that night. They all saw her.”
Andy didn’t reply, just leaned back in the chair, clearly considering. He finally said, “Listen, Nic, I understand the position you’re in. You’re worried about your daughter. I got two kids of my own. So trust me when I tell you I understand. I’m still saying bring them in. That’s why you’re debating. You know it’s the only thing you’ve got. Don’t drag your heels so these crooks can bury themselves where you can’t get to them.”
“I hear you.”
“You know how best to conduct your investigation. Take my advice and don’t let concerns about your daughter cloud your judgment.” Andy extended his hand across the table. “But I don’t mind saying that this is precisely what we’re hoping to accomplish here, as you well know. Good work, Nic.”
He shook Andy’s hand and accepted the praise graciously. Then he watched Andy gather papers into the folder, still unable to shake the gnawing doubt that too many factors were out of his control. Nic didn’t feel as if he was even close to having enough of a handle on this situation.
Andy was right about that much—concerns about Violet were clouding Nic’s judgment. No family mess he’d ever cleaned up came even close to this one. As if the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced before.
And they were. This was Violet they were talking about.
His daughter.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“YEAH, DAD,” MEGAN forced the words out. “It’s me.”
“This is a surprise. Will you get the gate, Meggie?”
Surprise? What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking. That much was obvious. Launching into action, Megan headed for the release that would pull the iron gate open. She could see her mother in the passenger side as her father pulled in the driveway and drove toward the garage around back. Her expression was set in stone. Great.
Megan eased the gate shut slowly, buying herself time as she commanded her pulse to stop racing, willed away all her upset over Violet.
Oh, why had she given in to that frenetic need to move? Why had she wound up here of all places?
But as Megan crossed the few steps toward the smaller gate that accessed the walkway, she understood why her path had led her here.
This was home. Somewhere deep inside her dwelled a girl not much older than Violet, a girl who’d left home one day, never expecting that she wouldn’t return.
Wouldn’t be welcomed.
A car door slammed, then another, and Megan wondered if her parents would expect her to meet them at the side door on the gallery or if she should wait at the front.
Letting herself in through the gate, she stuck to the path of least resistance, noticing the yard had been recently mowed. The annuals that had once lined the walkway had been replaced with low-maintenance juniper.
Megan remembered her mother’s trellis the last time she’d seen it, almost collapsing beneath the weight of the climbing roses. Her mother always had such a gift with anything that bloomed, but the trellis was gone. Likely hadn’t survived Katrina. The gingerbread trim looked freshly painted, though, a bright white that complimented the yellow of the house.
Taking a deep breath, Megan made her way up the steps. She waited, unsure if her parents would come around the gallery to greet her or if they’d already entered the house. She saw the shiny gold doorbell, but didn’t ring. She didn’t have to. She could hear the sound of the chimes in memory, so vibrant. She’d forgotten until now. They’d been a surprise indulgence by her father for her mother’s promotion to dean of her department. Megan had loved them.
Yet she’d forgotten.
She’d been born in this house, had grown up here, had a youth filled with memories.
Now she was a guest, waiting to be let in.
The door opened. Suddenly she faced her mother, dressed in a business suit, which meant they’d likely been at the university.
There was a moment of awkward silence, a moment when neither of them seemed sure of the appropriate greeting—kiss, hug, shake hands?
Megan took the initiative, covered the distance between them and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Good to see you, Mom.”
“You should have called, Megan. We weren’t expecting you.”
“I planned to, but…well, here I am.” Megan squelched a pang at the omission.
Her mother didn’t reply, only stepped aside to allow Megan to enter.
“You look well, Mom.”
Which wasn’t entirely true. Her mother had always been a beautiful woman, slender and lovely, with a head full of shiny dark hair that Megan had inherited.
Today she looked tired, frail almost, as if her body wasn’t quite d
oing the job of holding up her suit.
Had her mother lost weight?
“Thank you.”
Her mother’s response was cooler than Megan expected. Or maybe she was projecting her mood. She hadn’t been prepared to see her parents, didn’t feel ready. Neither were her parents, clearly. She should have called. This was her own stupid fault, and now she’d put them on the spot, too.
Megan glanced around the foyer, recognized the addition of a few new antiques—an unfamiliar mirror, a small Tiffany lamp. Everything perfect to greet guests.
“Meggie, look at you. You’re in town,” her father said when he appeared.
She expected him to spread his arms for a hug. He’d always been the more demonstrative of her parents, her smiling, laughing, oh, so smart dad. He’d been the one her friends had asked about first, the one who had generally made the impression with his twinkling bright blue eyes.
But he only exchanged a glance with her mother.
It was one of those glances Megan had seen a thousand times in her youth, a look of silent communication between two people who had always seemed able to read each other’s minds. There had been a time when Megan had admired their solidarity. But that had been before they’d ganged up on her.
“If now’s a bad time,” she said, giving them an out, “I can come back. I should have called.”
“That would have been nice,” her mother said, and there was no missing the stony edge to her voice.
“Come on in, Meggie.” Her father slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re here now. Would you like something to drink? Your mother brewed tea last night.”
He led her into the kitchen.
“How are you, Dad?” Maybe if she kept the conversation light, they could segue through the awkwardness and keep dancing around the elephant in the middle of the room.
“Healthy, which is always good.”
They stood around the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen, a habit from another lifetime. Without a word her mother went through the motions of placing napkins, spoons, lemons, ice and sweetener in a perfect display. She set the pitcher in the middle and glasses. Perfect.
Then There Were Three Page 13
