by Jen Talty
“Were you mad at your adoptive mom for filling your head with ideas that she had no idea were true or not?”
He laughed. “You really need to learn to be more subtle when going into doctor-mode.”
“Sorry. I have a horrible habit of doing that when someone gives me that much information about a painful experience. But it’s also a deflection, and it’s helping me suck up the tears. I really hate crying.”
“Cry all you want. Doesn’t bother me. Remember, I have five sisters. But feel free to deflect all you want, too. My oldest sister is a master at that.” He winked. “And to answer your question, yes. I felt like my parents lied to me, but how were they to know my birth mother was a lunatic? In a weird way, I owe her a huge thank you for doing the right thing and giving me up.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“That’s funny, considering one of my hands is on your thigh, and the other is massaging your shoulder.”
“Now who’s deflecting?” She should push him away. Having any kind of intimate contact with him wouldn’t end well. “Would you have looked for your birth parents if she hadn’t come looking for you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Two of my sisters went looking for theirs, and it turned out okay, but that just brings me back to the idea that it should be up to the person who was given up, not the birth parents.”
“I do understand your reasoning regarding that.”
“And I understand yours. Which is why I’m willing to take the case.”
“Thank you.” She pulled back, needing to break the physical contact. “Everything I know is in a small envelope inside. It was a closed adoption.” She stood. “I’ll go get it.”
“Take your time.”
She entered the house. The envelope sat in the drawer of a small table in the hallway by the stairs. She picked it up and held it close to her chest. It was thin. And light. A few pieces of paper. That was it.
Shannon took a deep breath, then went back onto the porch. Jackson had stretched his legs out again, ankles crossed. One hand rested behind his head, the other held the glass of wine.
She placed the envelope in his lap. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He pointed to the chair. “Now, sit, and let’s enjoy the view.”
“I really don’t want to talk anymore.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Neither do I. But I don’t want the evening to end.”
Reluctantly, she joined him, still holding his hand. He didn’t let go. And he didn’t talk.
It was the nicest thing any man had done for her in years.
“Oh, shit,” Shannon’s sweet voice startled Jackson.
He turned to face her. “What’s the matter?”
Shannon bolted upright, yanking her hand from his, snapping him from the visions of kissing her goodnight.
If he got the nerve.
He’d always had a bit of an ego when it came to women, and no one would ever call him shy.
Reserved? Absolutely.
Shy? When hell froze over.
But this woman had made his heart race like a lovesick schoolboy with a crush on a teacher. About the only thing he could do was hold her hand and fantasize like a stupid boy. Otherwise, he might make an ass out of himself, and that just wasn’t an option.
“I need to do something.” She leaned over, kicking off her shoes and rolling up her pant legs.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to go dip my toes in the water before midnight.”
He reached over and picked up her shoe. “So, am I Prince Charming or the driver of the pumpkin coach?”
She paused, staring at him with a scrunched face. “Would you mind coming down to the dock with me?”
“Not at all. But I’m not getting in the water. Last I checked, it was still cold as ice.” He stood, taking her by the hand, and led her down the long, windy path. “Can I ask why we are doing this?”
“It’s just something I do on the anniversary of my father’s death.”
“Maybe you want to be alone?” There was no love lost between him and his birth mother, and he didn’t want to think about the day when his real parents died.
So far, they were both healthy as horses, but that didn’t change the fact that they weren’t getting any younger.
Nor had they let up on their desire to have the family name carried on. All of his sisters had children, but none with their last name: Armstrong.
At thirty-nine, Jackson still didn’t feel the need to have a child, something the woman standing next to him would probably have a field day with during a therapy session.
“Normally, I’d say yes. But I usually do it in the morning, and your boat threw me for a loop.”
“Are you afraid of the water or something?”
“No. Just sailboats.”
“I know a really great therapist that could help you with that.” He hoped his attempt at humor didn’t get him pushed into the freezing water. He wasn’t sure if he should ask her what the toe-dipping meant. She hadn’t offered much information, but something told him this wasn’t going to be a typical ode to the old man. Jackson got the impression that Shannon’s relationship with her father had been complicated.
Whatever the reason for the ritual and her fear of boats, he could hold her hand and be there for her.
It was the neighborly thing to do.
He nearly laughed out loud. While he wanted to support Shannon, he also wanted to kiss her. Maybe even more.
He paused at the edge of the dock, staring down at his sneakers. “Do you want me to join you?”
“If you want. But I’ll warn you, it’s a strange ritual. You won’t understand, and I’m not going to explain it.” Her curtness caught him off guard. He wanted to ask a few more questions, but the closer they got to the edge of the dock, the more her body tensed. He could feel the wrath seeping from her skin like fog rising from the lake.
Shedding his boots and socks, he sat on the edge of the dock.
The ice-cold water gripped his feet. He shuddered.
Shannon dangled hers over the dock, the water lapping at her ankles. She leaned over and spit.
What the fuck?
“The only good thing you ever did for me was die. I hope you’re rotting in hell,” she whispered.
Well, that was certainly unexpected. “You can’t expect me not to ask questions after that.”
“My father wasn’t a very nice man.” She jumped to her feet, and the dock rattled as she stomped toward the path.
“Wait a second.” He stood, nearly toppling into the water. “Don’t run off, Shannon.”
“I’m not. It’s late, my feet are cold, and I want to go to bed.” She quickened her pace to a jog, not looking over her shoulder.
“Stop,” he called, but she just kept going.
He took off running, making it to her patio only two paces behind her. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Really.” She snagged her heels. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me. I know your boat can’t hurt me, but it’s so much like the one my father owned, and it just stirred up a lot of bad shit on a day that, for me, is a celebration.”
“A celebration? What the hell did your father do to you?” He clenched his hands into fists. He didn’t need her to answer. The combination of sadness, fear, and fury coming from her normally sweet blue eyes said it all.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“To toss your words back at you, like hell it doesn’t, or you wouldn’t bother with the ritual.” He’d seen his fair share of battered women and children as a cop. The survivors always carried the same resolve to prove they were fine. But no matter how long ago the abuse happened, a bit of that fear always clung to them like a wound that never quite healed. “I’m sorry your father hurt you.”
She reached up, palming his cheek with her soft hand. “It was a long time ago, and I do this every year to remind myself that I di
dn’t deserve it and that I’m making a difference in this world despite having had a difficult childhood. I know it seems strange, and I probably looked like some crazy, angry—”
He pressed his finger to her plump lips. “You’re far from crazy.”
“Thanks, Jackson. You’re a good man.” She dropped her hand, taking a step back.
“I could probably park the boat down the street at the marina if it makes you that uncomfortable.”
She shook her head. “That’s just silly. It’s fine, really. Thanks for helping me tonight. Oh, I completely forgot to ask…” Her eyes went wide.
“Ask what?” He wondered if she needed to do some other ritualistic thing. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be a part of it.
But he would if she asked.
“How much do you charge? I’m sure you’ll need some kind of retainer.”
“A hundred dollars should be enough for me to get the un-identifying information about the adoption. After that, I’ll give you the friends and family discount of fifty dollars an hour.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “This is probably going to be the most inappropriate thing I could say, but I wouldn’t mind you taking advantage of me at all.”
“Good night, Jackson.” She pushed open her door. “Maybe we can have dinner this weekend.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Maybe.” And with that, Shannon disappeared into her house.
He’d lost his ever-loving mind. He had rules for a reason, and he never broke them.
Only, he’d broken two tonight.
Never take on an adoption case with a birth parent.
And never, ever go out with a client.
Chapter Four
Jackson pulled out a new file, put Shannon’s name on it with a green Sharpie, and opened the contents of the envelope she had given him the night before. He thumbed through the records, which wasn’t much. The name of the hospital. Date and time of birth. The fact that the baby had been a girl. Shannon’s name but no birth father.
He took a pad and pencil and started making some notes when his partner Katie strolled into the office.
She carried herself with an air of confidence. One that he knew she drew from lies, betrayal, and loneliness. She had a good heart, though it had hardened the moment her uncle went to prison for trying to kill her. “God, I hate the smell of paint. Will the odor ever go away?” she asked as she took off her baseball cap and hung it on the coat rack next to the door.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said with a big smile.
“Westerfield asked me to give this to you.” She dumped a sealed envelope onto his desk before she clicked across the office in her high heels. She lifted a bouquet of red and yellow tulips he’d brought in this morning. “Why do you do things like this?”
Her desk sat directly across from his in their large office space. Originally, it had been two offices, but neither of them liked having to go back and forth to talk to each other, so they knocked down the wall. They also had a small reception area. One day, they hoped to make enough money to hire a receptionist to put behind the humble empty desk. On the other side of the reception area lay a small conference room.
The building itself stood four stories, and they occupied the second floor. The first level held an insurance company, and Bryant and Bangle, Attorneys at Law—their biggest clients and landlords—occupied the top two floors.
“You have to admit, they brighten up the place, along with the freshly painted walls,” he said.
“Yeah. Yeah. Your mother should have named you Jessica, not Jackson.” She sat behind her desk and fired up her computer. “Any messages?”
“Not a single one,” he said.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, her fingers pounding on the keyboard, her stare engaged only with the screen. Most people looked at Katie and saw a rebel without a cause. An angry woman with an ax to grind.
Behind her tough exterior and fiery red hair hid a scared little girl who wanted answers to questions only her incarcerated uncle or dead mother could give her.
“We’ve got two appointments with potential new clients. One is a let’s-spy-on-my-wife case, and the other is with an insurance company looking to hire us to do investigative work on some worker’s comp cases.”
“Hate insurance companies,” she said. “Wouldn’t the flowers look better on the conference table today?”
He laughed. “Already put some there.”
“Of course, you did,” she said. “You’re a great work wife.”
“I’m here to make you happy.” He opened the envelope from Westerfield, his buddy over at the Warren County sheriff’s office. “Well, shit.” He stared at the name printed on the report for the owner of the blue sedan that had been parked at the top of his and Shannon’s drive.
Ned Brendel.
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know yet.” Just because the car’s registered owner had the same last name as Shannon, didn’t mean they were related. “Hey, Siri, call Westerfield.”
His buddy answered on the second ring. “What’s up, man?”
“Thanks for the printout. Do you know anything about this guy?”
“You obviously didn’t read my sticky note on the third page. He’s your neighbor’s uncle.”
“You don’t say. Anything else?” Jackson asked.
“I ran a check. Found a sealed juvenile report on Ned Brendel. I’m trying to get my hands on it. I’ll send it over when and if I get it.”
“Thanks.” Jackson tapped the red button on the cell. He set the phone on the desk, screen up, twirling it with his index finger.
“What has you so deep in thought?” Katie plopped her ass down on the side of his desk.
He pushed Shannon’s file across the wood.
“I can’t believe you took on an adoption case. You’ve given me shit every single time, and now you’re going to do it because you’ve got the hots for your neighbor.”
“I’m not doing it because I find Shannon attractive.”
“I can’t think of any other reason for you to do it. Because you damn near quit on me the last time.” Katie held up the birth certificate. “Wow. Sixteen. I tell you, Dr. Shannon Brendel doesn’t seem the type to have sex as a teenager.”
“Shut up,” Jackson said. “We were all young and stupid once.”
“You know that’s not how I meant it. It’s just that she seems so put-together. It surprises me she’d be in a situation where she’d have to give up a baby when she was just a kid herself.”
“If that’s the case, then stop getting bent out of shape whenever someone makes a judgment about you because of your uncle.”
Katie knocked on the desk with a knuckle. “That’s hitting below the belt.”
The sound of footsteps coming from the stairs caught Jackson’s attention.
He checked his watch. “Saved by our client, who is early.” Jackson would have loved to go a round or two with Katie. One of these days, he hoped to get her to understand that she wasn’t an extension of her family—or their dysfunction.
A young man stepped across the threshold.
“May I help you?” Jackson asked.
“I think someone from this office called me.”
“Who are you?” Jackson hadn’t met their scheduled first appointment of the day, but he knew without a doubt that this wasn’t him.
“Ben Nisson. I used to date Belinda Montgomery.”
Well, shit. Maybe they were about to get their first break.
“Come on in,” Katie said, waving the young man in.
Jackson closed the door and pointed to the seat next to Katie’s desk. “Have a seat.”
The young man wore tan slacks and a crisply pressed blue button-down shirt that reminded Jackson of the nerds that worked for the Geek Squad.
“I came right over as soon as I got the message,”
Ben said.
“Why didn’t you just call us back?” Katie asked. “We’re a long way from Saratoga.”
“Actually, only twenty minutes.” Ben’s foot rattled the floorboards. “But my cousin lives up here, and I was visiting with him.”
“For how long?” Jackson scribbled his observations about Ben on the notepad.
Nervous.
Avoids eye contact.
Terrified. But of what?
“Just for a long weekend. Fishing trip.”
Jackson nodded. “I love fishing.”
Katie cocked her head, knowing he hated tossing a line over.
“Tell us, Ben, when was the last time you saw your girlfriend?” Jackson went for the bang.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Ben turned and gazed out the window. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“When did that happen?” Katie leaned back in her chair.
Jackson cringed, waiting for her to toss her feet up onto the desk and start twirling her gum.
If she had gum.
“We broke up about a month ago,” Ben said. “I haven’t talked to or seen her in weeks. She won’t take my calls anymore. Did something happen to her? Is that why you called me?”
“We don’t know if anything happened,” Katie said, leaning forward and folding her arms on her desk. “Do you?”
He shook his head. His eyes teared.
Katie never believed anyone who cried.
Jackson only believed the ones who tried to act as though crying were the tell all by itself. This kid didn’t even try to hide his tears, but he sure as hell didn’t bring attention to them.
“Why did you break up?” Jackson asked.
Ben snapped his gaze to Jackson. “She started dating someone else. I don’t know who, but she made it clear that she was done with me.” He looked from Katie to Jackson then back to Katie. “Did something happen to her?” he asked again. “Please, tell me.”
“We really don’t know anything,” Jackson repeated. “All we know is that she took some time off work. Any idea where she might have gone?”
“She’s always wanted to go to the Sagamore Hotel. Spend a few days there. She talked about it all the time, but I couldn’t afford to take her.”
