Ethan’s gaze had been locked with Tad’s through the entire explanation. Miranda was close to tears.
“But why?”
“He just had a question to ask me about my injury.”
Which didn’t explain, at all, why Tad had been at the elementary school. She waited for Ethan to ask.
“I got a scar on my leg, and got burned on my back, too, see?” Turning, Tad pulled up his shirt, exposing the scars on the lower part of his back. She’d seen them higher up, too, that day in her examining room with Danny.
“Wow. Did it hurt?” Ethan asked, eyes wide behind his glasses as he talked to Tad.
“Yep. A lot. More than anything else. Ever. Except maybe...you thinking I’m not your friend.”
“How’d it happen? Did you get shot?” Ethan knew Tad was a police detective.
“Nope. It was an explosion.”
“With some bad guys?”
“One bad guy.”
“Did anybody die?”
“Just the bad guy.”
“Cool.”
She didn’t think it was cool.
“So...are we friends again?” Tad moved right in.
“I guess.” Ethan turned back to the TV and started to laugh. “Hey! I won even when we weren’t playing!”
Their time had run out and he’d been ahead when they stopped, but Miranda had a feeling her son had also won for real, having a man like Tad to look up to for a little while.
She had a feeling she’d won, too.
Chapter 10
He didn’t get a look at all the window latches Thursday night. When he’d excused himself to visit the bathroom, he’d planned to check the bedrooms, but he’d found both doors firmly shut and couldn’t risk getting caught inside the rooms.
He’d tried to get her to talk about the windows, noticing that the French door leading out the patio was sparkling, which only led to a conversation about cleaning windows and how she was good at dealing with the inside, but never got around to the outside. They’d only get dirty again next time it rained. He’d moved on to asking if she ever opened her windows to let the breeze in, and she’d said there was no need, since the place was small and she could open the front door, with the metal security screen locked, and get all the cool they needed.
So Friday, when he knew Miranda was at work and Ethan at school, he made a stop by the cottage to do a thorough check on the windows from the outside. To find out how hard it would be to break in. He brought along a squeegee, a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels as his cover, and washed the outsides of all her windows while he was at it. Which meant he’d have to tell her he’d done it, because she was bound to notice and get freaked out.
When he’d thought that Miranda’s ex was her only threat, and had been confident—if not 100 percent certain—that the man was deceased, he’d contented himself with watching out for her as her father had asked.
Now that he knew there was a family member who could pose a threat, he was buckling down on his procedures. He was not going to lose a woman or child in his care. He wasn’t going to let Ethan or Miranda get hurt, period.
And when he called her father for their regularly scheduled weekly chat later that afternoon, he was determined to get more information out of him.
“How’d it go last night?” Chief O’Connor asked as soon as he picked up.
“It went really well.” Tad stood out on his balcony, needing the ocean view to keep things in perspective. To get away from his own interests and out into the world where he could help save lives.
“Tell me about Jeffrey. Is he a good eater? I’m sure he’s smart, like his mama.” The man’s eagerness pulled at Tad, making him a bit sad for all of them. Jeffrey, whose name had been changed to Ethan, and who had no idea he’d ever been anyone else. Or that he had a wonderful grandfather. Miranda who’d lost the support of her family and friends. Chief O’Connor, with his unending well of unconditional love for his family which left him with such horrendous loneliness, and himself, too, because he’d never experience the depths of that kind of love again.
And then, with the next breath he took, reminded himself that he was alone by choice.
“She made his favorite dinner, so I don’t know if the way he cleaned his plate is typical of his usual habits or not. And yes, he’s a smart little guy. You’d be proud of him, Chief.” He could have said so much more. Was probably being paid to say more...
And reporting details of his time with Miranda and Ethan, taking things he learned about them during the time he spent with them, seemed duplicitous. Or worse.
“What’s his favorite dinner?”
See, that was one of those intimacies, those privileged pieces of information you got when you were invited into someone’s inner circle.
“Spaghetti.” Sort of.
“Baked spaghetti? In one of those long metal pans? Sauce and noodles mixed together with cheese?”
Tad half smiled as he leaned against the ceiling-high cement wall he shared with the vacant balcony next door. “Yeah,” he said. “Clearly you’ve had it before.”
“It was her favorite, too,” O’Connor said, his voice growing soft. He paused, as though restraining emotion, and added, “It was one of her mother’s specialties. She taught Dana how to make it, and other things, too, when we found out she was sick.”
Tad might not want family of his own, but he knew, in that moment, that he had to get this one back together. Somehow, someway, he had to help them.
“How old was she then?” He had a feeling the older man never talked about his own pain. He was always too busy tending to others.
“Ten.”
“And when her mother died?”
“Eleven.”
He’d been fourteen when his sister was murdered.
Chin tight, he straightened, hating that Miranda, who gave so much, who truly cared about others, had suffered so much. And had to handle it all alone.
He had to right this wrong.
“I’m concerned about this family member of Jeffrey’s father that you mentioned yesterday,” he said. “I’m uncomfortable not knowing more. I can’t do my job that way. I could have exposed her just by being here. She and Ethan could be sitting ducks...”
Surely the chief knew that.
“You think I’d risk the safety of my only child, my only grandchild?” The chilling tone came at him.
And he took the point. “Of course not.”
“I appreciate your concern and I count on it, Tad.” The chief softened his next words again. “And I respect that I’ve put you in a difficult position. You can understand, I’m sure, that I don’t trust easily at this stage. Which is why I only give out information on a need-to-know basis.”
Another point taken.
“I’m trusting you with their lives. You’re the only one who knows I’ve hired you to find her. The only one who knows you’ve done so. If you’re also poking around in things here in town, someone might be able to trace you to her. I need to make certain there’s no danger to them.”
Tad was on forced medical and professional leave. With no family. It hadn’t been hard for people to believe he’d gone off by himself to heal.
And Chief O’Connor was on the money on every point—even to the point of not paying him directly, but rather funneling the money through a special police fund used for undercover work. As Tad would have expected.
“I’ll watch them closely,” he said, still uncomfortable with what he didn’t know.
“How’d it go with Dana? She can be a little defensive, understandably. I’d like to think she has you for a friend.”
His discomfort intensified—on a whole different front.
“Fine. She’s accepted me as a colleague and a friend.” He had to tread carefully, balancing on a fine line between allegiances.
&nbs
p; But their goal—Miranda, Dana, safe and free, with familial support and love—was the same.
“Well, if it goes beyond that, I want you to know you have my blessing. Assuming it’s what she wants, what makes her happy. I couldn’t pick anyone better to see with my daughter...”
“I said good-night to her and Ethan—Jeffrey—together, as soon as the dishes were done,” he inserted, not willing to have that conversation with his boss. He’d come clean with the chief about “caring” for his daughter for ethical reasons. And it stopped there.
He’d heard of mothers being matchmakers. The chief was both mother and father to his daughter. Still...the whole thing left him feeling like he needed a shower.
He was friends with Miranda and Ethan. He wasn’t going to let it go “beyond that,” no matter how tempted he might be.
For so many reasons.
One was that he had no intention of getting into a committed emotional involvement and Miranda deserved no less.
“I realize you feel I’ve left you somewhat vulnerable out there, but I can tell you that the family member of whom I spoke yesterday is no longer a concern,” Chief O’Connor said, getting Tad’s full attention.
He turned back to his apartment, went inside and shut the door.
“This same one who, yesterday, posed a threat?” he asked.
“Yes. The older brother. He’s got a record, drugs and assault among other things, but he’s been incarcerated for attempted murder for the past year.”
“How long’s he in for?”
“Twenty, with possible parole at seven.”
Dropping onto his sofa, he wiped a hand down his face.
God, relief felt good.
* * *
Miranda had just tucked Ethan into bed and kissed him good-night when her phone rang Friday night.
“Danny’s leg is itching and he’s lying in bed crying, saying it hurts,” Marie said, after apologizing for making the call. “I gave him the acetaminophen you said I could, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. Are we absolutely sure there’s nothing wrong there? Some infection we can’t see?”
“What did Dr. Bennet tell you on Monday?”
“That everything was fine, but that was four days ago.”
“Is he running a fever?”
“No.”
She went down the list of other possible symptoms that would indicate a problem, all with no signs of any concern. When they got to the end of the list, she suggested that Marie have Danny soak in a warm bath for a while and eat a healthy snack before going back to bed.
“Devon’s been watching us,” Marie said then. “The police caught him just far enough away so they couldn’t arrest him yesterday.”
As a member of Danny’s medical team, she wouldn’t have received the alert, just an update at their High Risk Team meeting on Tuesday, but Tad would have known.
Which was why he’d been out in the open, making it easy for Danny to find him during recess the day before.
“Have you seen or heard from him?”
“No.”
“And your sister and brother-in-law are there with you?”
“Yes.”
“So...our plan is working then,” Miranda said, wishing she could climb into the other woman’s psyche and help her with her battle, knowing that only Marie could do this part. “The police, they saw him, warned him, and he’s staying away.”
“I guess.”
Marie was scared. She had reason to be. And she had to fight that fear, or it would consume her and the rest of her life, too.
“If the bath doesn’t do the trick, it’s okay to give him a little more acetaminophen,” she said, in her most medical-professional-nurturing-a-patient voice. And then, speaking as a woman, she added, “If you get worried, call me back. I mean it, Marie. You’re in the middle of the toughest part of this and I agreed to be a member of the team helping you because it’s what I want to do. Your job is not to give in to feeling guilty, or apologetic. Just pick up the phone and call me. Or someone else who can help. You’re not alone. I can’t stress that enough.”
Marie thanked her. A couple of times. Sounding more in control than she had at the beginning of their conversation. Miranda hung up, not sure she’d been able to do enough.
Five minutes later, when the phone rang again, she expected it to be Marie calling back. It was Tad.
Curling up on her couch next to the book she’d been intending to read, a feel-good paperback novel about two female best friends and how the friendship survived the different paths their lives took, she told him about Marie’s call.
And received his assurance that there’d been no further notice of Devon’s activity since the day before.
“I was wondering how you’d feel about me taking Ethan to the gym tomorrow?” he asked. “I offered to take Danny last week when I was in your office, and while Marie hasn’t set anything up yet, she might. It would be good for me to do a test run with Ethan. And...good for Ethan to go there, too. The boys attend the same school. Ethan knows who Danny is now. They might talk at some point.”
She didn’t think so. More likely, Ethan would steer clear of the other boy.
That wasn’t the reason for her hesitation.
“I take him to basketball camp when I work on Saturday mornings.” Since January. Prior to that, she’d had him at the office with her, during the first year she’d been Dr. Bennet’s PA. And before that, at a day care in the building where Dr. Bennet had his practice.
Ethan had declared, when he’d started first grade, that he was too old for the after-school day care, although it accepted kids up to the age of eight. She let him make the decision, because it was one she could allow.
“I can go anytime,” Tad said.
Basketball camp hadn’t been the cause of her hesitation, either.
“I’m worried about him spending too much time with you.” She finally just came out with it. “I’ve told him you’re only here for a while, that you have your life in Michigan, a police force that needs you. He says he gets it, but after the way he was when he saw you with Danny, like he’s taking ownership of you—I don’t want him to get hurt...”
“My life in Michigan?”
Embarrassed that she’d remembered so many details about him, she admitted, “You told us, on your first day with the team, that you were from Michigan.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want me around him?” he asked next. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or not, that they were getting back to the point. “You said on Tuesday that you were open to friendship.”
“I know.” She understood his confusion. “I do want that. I just don’t want him getting the wrong idea.”
“People are going to come and go from your lives.”
He was right, of course.
“And maybe when I’m ready to go back to work, I’ll look for something here.”
Her heart rate escalated abruptly. Grabbing her attention.
“I...told you, I’m not interested in a long-term...anything. At least until he’s older,” she got out, wondering how much of her breathlessness he picked up on.
Figuring all of it.
Hoping none.
“Friendship,” he said. “Just friends.”
But she wanted so much more than that from him. The night before, after he’d left, she’d ended up taking a long soak in the tub, thinking about him.
About how he’d dealt with Ethan’s jealousy over Danny. About the way he engaged in her son’s video game as if it mattered as much to him as it did to Ethan. His views on the state of the world, which they’d discussed over coffee after the past six team meetings. His awareness and compassion. His willingness to risk his life to help others.
His patience.
And his body. Oh, that body. What it did to hers. How could she
have lived twenty-eight years inside her own skin and never known that she could feel like this?
“I know you’ve been through a lot, Miranda. Losing Ethan’s dad. Having to raise him on your own with no family to help you...”
She’d told him she’d grown up in foster care—back during their first personal conversation. He’d apparently remembered things, too.
“All I’m suggesting here is that I hang out with you and Ethan for a bit.”
He was new to town. Not there for long—if you discounted his what-if, and she was going to—and knew very few people. He was unselfishly and willingly volunteering a lot of time to help Danny and Marie.
“But if you’d rather I didn’t, I understand...”
“No!” She couldn’t just let him go. “I’d rather you did,” she said quickly, trying to gather her thoughts.
Maybe she should stop now. End the friendship before any of them got hurt.
Go back to being who she was seven weeks ago, before she met him...
Even as she had that thought, she knew she was asking the impossible. Tad was changing her, had changed her. He’d awakened something—an awareness of herself, her needs—that she hadn’t had before.
He’d brought Ethan’s needs more acutely to her attention, as well.
She had so many silent battles to fight. Had been an army of one for so long. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to fight her own yearnings for some good feelings in her life. Even if they only lasted for a while.
“Surely in the six years you’ve had Ethan, another man has shown interest in you. Asked you out, or hinted at a desire to,” Tad said, causing another surge of desire.
What was wrong with her?
“Yeah, there’ve been a few.” Most recently, one of the volunteer coaches at the city-based basketball camp she’d enrolled Ethan in. “And I wasn’t the least bit tempted.”
Let him make of that what he would.
“You think Ethan’s dad would want it this way?”
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