by Jaycee Clark
“Taylor!”
“What?”
Gavin wouldn’t be put off. She had to tell him something. “I uh—I.” This was not his problem. It was hers. “Someone broke into our house,” she whispered.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“You don’t have to . . .” Taylor’s voice trailed off. He didn’t have to but he would. “Gavin?”
No answer. Did he hang up on her?
“Gavin?”
So much for arguing with him. Taylor glared at the phone as though that would do a single thing and then hit the end button.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Reese.” Bachall pulled her attention back to the matter at hand. Her car. No, the dealership’s car. Mercedes was not going to like this.
She turned back to the porch. Ryan sat staring out into the rain, Morris sitting beside him. It could have been worse. What if they had been home? Cars, paintings, couches, and walls. All that could be replaced or restored. That’s what insurance was for.
“You have anything else to add?” Bachall asked her.
Yes, but not now. Taylor could only shake her head, then turned and walked back to her son. She’d need a cleaning service and a garage.
Ryan hadn’t said a word since he’d asked her why they’d broken his violin. Maybe they could just rent a car and go away for the weekend.
• • •
Gavin turned onto Taylor’s street. He wasn’t going to think how her voice shook when she’d whispered about the break-in.
Were she and Ryan all right? His pulse raced at thoughts he wouldn’t allow to continue. If only he’d been with them this afternoon. Trees dripped with rain that his wipers shoved off the windshield. There. Cop cars were parked at the curb. Lights were shining in the windows.
The tires screeched to a halt and Gavin all but jumped from the Navigator.
“Taylor!” He hurried across the small yard. “Ryan!”
“We’re fine.” Taylor stood on the porch. “We’re fine.”
His long legs took all three steps at once and wrapped her in a hug.
Gavin sighed. Honeysuckle soothed him. Her scent wrapped around him even as her arms circled his waist. She was all right. She was all right.
Taylor pulled back and with reluctance he let her go. “Ryan?” he asked her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She looked to the side and he followed her line of vision. In the corner of the porch sat the normally smiling boy. Now there was no smile. Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Gavin walked over to Ryan and squatted down on his haunches beside him.
“Hey, champ.” Gavin noticed the shattered and ruined violin. The belly had been split and two of the four wires were sticking out in lazy spirals where they had been stretched and broken. The other two were all that held the instrument together.
Gavin sighed even as anger raced through him. “I’m glad you and your mom are okay.”
Nothing, not a word or a single movement to let him know that Ryan heard a word he said. He wanted to reach out and ruffle the boy’s hair, if for no other reason than to reassure himself that Ryan was okay. But he knew now wasn’t the time. Ryan was withdrawn and too quiet.
He just sat staring out into the rain. Shock, maybe?
“Ryan?” he tried again.
Nothing. Carefully, he reached out and placed his fingers on Ryan’s wrist. The boy started to pull away, but then stilled. His pulse was normal. Gavin withdrew his hand.
“I guess you don’t want to talk. Don’t blame you there. Things here are pretty hectic right now.” Gavin sighed and decided on another approach. “I am sorry about your instrument.”
Was there a slight narrowing of his eyes? It was hard to tell in this damn light. Evening was falling and the overcast skies dulled everything to gray. “We’ll find you a new one tomorrow.”
A long moment passed, but finally, that small freckled face turned to him. Gavin’s breath caught at the look in the blue eyes. So much emotion was boiling in their depths. A shrug, and Ryan looked back out to the rain. For all the world, Ryan appeared quiet and almost nonchalant, but his eyes told the truth. The control the child obviously had on his own emotions surprised Gavin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man standing in the doorway with a badge clipped to his belt and a shoulder holster strapped to his back.
“Gavin, this is Lieutenant Morris,” Taylor introduced.
Gavin stood up and walked to the door, his hand outstretched. “I’m Dr. Gavin Kinncaid.”
The cop’s eyes were like many Gavin had seen. Hard, sharp eyes. Shark eyes. Another policeman came down the stairs and brought Gavin’s attention to the interior of the house.
“Holy Hell.” He pushed by Morris and strode into the house. Everything was trashed. Those comfortable denim couches were slashed. Pictures and paintings were ripped, or broken. Things were overturned and spray-paint graffitied the wall. A cleaning service?
Gavin turned and studied Taylor in the light. A worried frown creased her brow and her braided hair was mussed, probably from running her hands over it as she did right then.
“I’m sorry, Taylor.”
She only nodded at him. “So am I.”
“What’s going to be done?” he asked the cop.
Morris raised dark brows. “Done? We’ve done all we can do, Dr. Kinncaid.”
“And that is?”
A heavy sigh wafted on the air, but the other cop answered.
“And you are?” Gavin asked.
“Sergeant Bachall. Look. I feel badly for Ms. Reese and her son. The truth of the matter is that this was a breaking and entering, and vandalism. Though we’ve got him on assault with a deadly if we find him.”
Gavin stilled. “Excuse me?”
The cop looked to Taylor, then back to him. Shrugging, he said, “The perpetrator took a swing at Ms. Reese with a tire iron.” He pointed to dented, chipped wood on the door frame.
Christ. Gavin swung his gaze to Taylor.
Bachall continued. “We’ll dust for prints and if we get lucky, we’ll lift one.”
What the man said made sense, but Gavin didn’t care.
Bachall shut his little notebook, tapping his pen on it. His attention shifted to Taylor. “You have a number where I can reach you?”
Taylor nodded and rattled off her mobile number as Bachall wrote it down. Lieutenant Morris leaned over and said, “Are you with the Kinncaids that own the hotels?”
Gavin watched Taylor. “Yeah.” He turned to Morris. “What of it?”
“I hear your dad and Commander Newart play golf together.”
“So?”
“You could push this, you know.”
“I’m not one that uses my family that way.” Gavin turned his attention back to Taylor and Bachall.
“I will run a check and see if any matching incidents fit this,” Bachall stated.
“Fine.” Gavin grabbed his own phone, then looked to Taylor. “You still want a cleaning service?”
Her eyes were weary. “Yeah.”
He punched in the numbers he’d recently learned. Of course, Aiden wasn’t home. Aiden, like Gavin’s other brothers, was at their parents’. So he quickly dialed that number.
Becky, the housekeeper for the last thirty years, answered the phone.
“Hi, Beck. This is Gavin. I really need to speak with Aiden.”
“And why isn’t yourself seated at the family table this evening? Broke your poor muther’s heart, ye did.” Rebecca Murphy’s voice still danced with Ireland. Her County Waterford accent got heavier the madder she got, or if she was trying to guilt trip. Gavin figured it was the latter.
“I know, I know. Tell them I’m sorry. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Something came up at the hospital.”
He could picture the rotund woman standing by the phone as she tsked him. “Excuses, excuses. Ye work too hard. Now who was it ye wanted to talk at?”
“Aiden.” Becky knew damn well whom he wanted to talk to.
“Becky, I really need to talk to Aiden now. I’ll fill you in when I get home.”
A hmph echoed through his phone before Aiden finally got on.
“Kinncaid,” his brother’s voice said.
“You’re not the only one with that name, you know. Others are also graced, or cursed, with it.” Gavin noticed Morris was talking to Taylor and she shook her head before taking the man’s arm and leading him away from the front door and the window. They walked more into the living room, which he stood to the side of. He half heard “Gatesville” and “prison.”
“What do you want?” Aiden asked him.
“Hang on,” Gavin answered. He looked to Taylor, and tried to cover the mouthpiece on his phone. “Taylor, did you show him the letter?”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Finish your call and then you might join this conversation.”
Her tart reply released the bands around his chest. His gaze shifted to the front door. A damn tire iron?
“Hello?” Aiden said. “I don’t have anything better to do than sit here and listen to your muffled voice.”
“What?” he asked his brother. “Oh, sorry. Listen, I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I need a cleaning crew. Can I get one?”
“What? Did your latest orgy party leave your house trashed?”
It might be the running joke in the family that he was a ladies’ man, but the joke was getting old. So he went out on a few dates, he didn’t have time for anything else. And it really bothered the hell out of him that his own brothers believed the crap.
Gavin sighed.
“Can I get a crew or not?” He didn’t quite keep the bite out of his words.
“Sorry, just kidding.” Aiden’s voice shifted, lowered. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Without another joke or hesitation, Aiden agreed. “Yeah, I’ll call the hotel with your address and get a crew out there.”
“It’s not my address, but . . .” What was Taylor? For his family’s sake, she was his friend. “A friend’s.”
“Hmm.”
Gavin chose to ignore that comment. Taylor and the cops were still talking in lowered voices and Morris was now writing in his notebook. Gavin looked back out towards the open front door to the darkness beyond.
“Do you know any places around Seneca that sell violins?”
Aiden’s chuckle was deep. “Dare I inquire as to why you’re looking for a musical instrument?”
“Because he broke Ryan’s.”
“Who is he, and who is Ryan?”
Gavin was getting ahead of himself. He crammed his hand into his pocket and leaned against the wall. “He is the question in everyone’s mind and Ryan is Taylor’s son, remember?”
A silent moment passed. “Oh, yeah. And Taylor would be the friend? Nice lady.”
Hell. “Yes.”
“I’m intrigued. This is interesting coming from you.”
Gavin listened with half an ear to his brother’s amused statement. Instead, he heard Taylor say something about staying at a hotel probably.
Over his dead body. They’d argue about it later.
“Aiden?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Mom I’m bringing a couple of guests out for the weekend.”
Aiden’s laughter echoed through the phone before the line went dead. God only knew what Aiden would tell them all. Gavin didn’t have time to think about it. He had a woman to persuade. And he had the suspicion she could be stubborn.
• • •
I’m writing again today. I’ve made lots of entries today in this journal, huh?
The break-in sucks. I know I’m not supposed to say that word, but I don’t care. It’s not that bad, not compared to some other words I know. I try not to use them though. They’re not nice and make you sound mean. I don’t want to be mean.
I’m worried about staying away for the weekend. Taylor’s not happy about it either, but then again, she wasn’t exactly in the best mood when Gavin showed up.
I do remember when he came. He seemed worried about us. I saw him hug Taylor close to him and close his eyes real tight, like he never wanted to let her go. For just a second, I wished he would hug me that way, but then I got scared that he would, so I’m glad he didn’t.
But I wonder what it’s like, to be held that tightly and know everything’s gonna be all right, even if someone doesn’t tell you that.
But maybe it’s all lies anyway. I don’t think anything is ever okay, no matter what anyone says. I was starting to believe that it could be, but now I don’t know. I don’t know why someone tried to hurt Taylor or why someone ruined our new house. He ripped all my posters and my . . .
Well, you already know all that. I’ve written four pages already. I should probably stop writing and start talking to Taylor, but I just don’t want to talk. She’ll only tell me that everything will be okay, but she can’t promise that. It’s only a hope for her, like it always has been for me. Hope—smote. Whatever.
If that man hadn’t ruined my violin, I would play something as soon as I could, but now I can’t. Gavin’s talked about how tomorrow we’ll go look for a new violin, but I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t want another one so soon. It seems almost wrong to just go out and get a new one. The old one was special and part of me. I can’t explain that to Taylor or Gavin. They’d think I was weird.
And I’m already weird enough.
I knew something was wrong when we got home. But I didn’t “see” my violin until we were sitting on the porch. Then I knew. I just knew.
I wonder what other musicians do when one of their instruments die. That’s what it feels like. My violin died and I don’t know what to do. Maybe I will talk to Taylor, but when she’s alone. She loves me, so even if she thinks I’m weird, she’ll still help me.
And I shouldn’t worry about my violin anyway. The guy could’ve hurt Taylor. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Where I’d go.
Maybe I’ll give her a hug when we get there. She tried to hug me back at the house, but I wouldn’t let her, and I know that hurt her. I am sorry about that. I just wasn’t ready, but now I am.
I still wonder what it’s like to be hugged the way Gavin hugged Taylor. He likes her, and she likes him. But before they can have the light, they’ll pass through darkness. That scares me, very bad. I can’t tell Taylor that. She doesn’t know that sometimes I just know things, and right now I don’t really know anything.
Last night when I came into the kitchen and saw Gavin sitting there, I just sort of knew. All I saw was that they were happy and laughing and it was bright and behind them was darkness and crying. I didn’t like that vision. I’m hoping it’s one of my flukes. Not everything I “see” or “know” happens, but some do.
Well, we’re slowing down and I see that BIG house—what do they call them? Oh yeah, mansions—up ahead. I’ll write you later and let you know what all of Gavin’s family is like. His mom was nice, guess we’ll see about the others.
Chapter 8
Lights shone from several windows on three levels of the enormous house. She knew the grounds were immense, landscaped, and beautiful. The headlights glistened off the wet stones of the mansion. Gavin pulled the car up to the front steps of the graveled drive.
What was she doing here? She had argued, pleaded and talked until she was blue in the face. Gavin had a way of steamrolling over any obstacle. He didn’t quite ignore her arguments, reasons, or in his term, excuses. No, he just turned it all around so that the only logical thing to do was to come stay the weekend at his parents’ house.
That in and of itself was simply imposing on this family and it felt awkward. She’d done this once already a couple of weeks ago.
What would his family think of the additions for the weekend?
Taylor turned to look again at Ryan in the backseat. He hadn’t said a word all evening. She notic
ed Gavin repeatedly looking in his rearview mirror, concern for her son evident.
At least nothing had been stolen, not that she immediately found anyway. She had talked to Lieutenant Morris about Nina and had given all the pertinent facts she could. He promised he would place a call to the prison tonight and get back to her. She had yet to hear from him and that worried her. She’d also learned he’d actually stopped by because he was investigating some murder that was tied into a burglary. Actually, she’d only overheard that part. But it made her wonder all the more.
Gavin put the vehicle in park, turning her attention back to the house. “Are you certain this is all right? It just doesn’t seem right, dropping in uninvited and . . .”
Normally, Gavin’s eyes held a trace of mischief, of amusement. Now they were serious, almost coldly so. Instead of answering her, he turned in his seat and looked at Ryan.
“Hey, champ. We’re here. I forgot to warn you, Tori, my niece, is here. She’s about your age. She’ll probably run you ragged with questions and talk your ears off, but she’s nice. And I promise not to let her talk you into any tea parties or doll salons.”
Taylor didn’t turn around, but caught Gavin’s grin before he said, “Thought that would get a smile out of you. Now, you met Mom, but everyone will wonder who you are, and who your mother is. I thought I’d tell them you both came from another planet and landed in my office this afternoon, kidnapping me and making me late because you wanted to see all the tourists’ sites.”
This time an ever so small giggle whispered on the air. Taylor didn’t move.
“But then they might not like you because you made me miss dinner with the family, and it was a lie too, and my mother wouldn’t want me to lie. So, I figured I’d tell them the truth. Taylor is a very special friend and you are her son and my sightseeing partner. What do you think? Will that work?”
How did he do it? As easy as that, it seemed all problems could be solved. Taylor dared a glance back over her shoulder, catching Gavin’s eye for just split second before she looked at Ryan.