Lana sighed. “Good question. I wish I knew.”
“So you’re still clueless?”
Lana shot her sister a look. “Everyone is a comedian these days.”
Sandy laughed and said, “I think it’s obvious.”
“Yeah? What do you think I should do?”
“Marry Chip.”
“Oh, like marriage ever solved a woman’s problems.”
“You don’t ever want to get married?”
Lana shrugged.
“I know you want kids. Do you want to be a single mom?”
Lana didn’t answer. Yeah, she was definitely still clueless.
“Believe me,” Sandy said, “not all marriages are like our mother’s.”
“But what if I’m too much like her?”
“You’re not, and please don’t think that.”
“Remember how she moved us in with Fred Hoskins after knowing him a few months? That’s basically what I did with Chip.”
“You’ve known Chip forever.”
“But I hadn’t seen him in years.”
“Your mistake is trying to please Mom, to heal her.”
“Maybe. Why do I keep doing the wrong thing, falling for the wrong guy?”
“Chip isn’t the wrong guy.”
“He wants me to give up on solving Dan’s murder.”
“Good for him. Everyone, including your sergeant, wants you to stop trying to solve Danny’s murder. So why can’t you do that?”
“Because I promised Mom?”
“Mom has to want to get better herself or she never will. Why is it so important to you? Especially now that you get it that our brother wasn’t anybody’s Prince Charming.”
Lana shook her head, trying to understand her compulsion to know what had happened. Sure, Dan had been a kid and deserved justice, but why had she shouldered the responsibility of solving an eight-year-old murder? She loved Danny, but she didn’t much like him anymore. Not after all she had learned about him.
So why couldn’t she let him go?
Her discovery of the truth about Dan’s character hadn’t lessened her need to know. Strangely, quite the opposite. Learning who he’d been made her desire to pry loose the truth about his death even stronger. Not to get justice for a kid who had died too soon, but because she wanted to understand who she had been, why she hadn’t recognized what everyone else had.
Were her problems really about her father’s abandonment? She now considered it a blessing that he’d left. Had she been that screwed up?
Was she still?
God help her, was she making the same mistakes as her mother?
Lana shot her sister a glance and found Sandy studying her. “This may sound nuts, but I think it’s more about me than Danny.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone, including you, thought Dan was a jerk. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t see him for what he was?”
“And how will solving our brother’s murder, and possibly losing the career you’ve worked so hard for, make you understand that?”
“Maybe if I unravel all the pieces of the mystery, I’ll understand Dan and, hopefully, myself.”
“Please, Lana. It’s no big mystery,” Sandy stated. “People see what they want to see. And teenaged girls do really stupid things all the time.”
Lana laughed and reached for the buzzing cell phone in her pocket. “But what would giving up say about my character?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That you came to your senses, that you could follow the orders of your superior officers.”
“Yeah, there is that.” Lana checked the phone’s readout. What in the world?
“Who is it?” Sandy asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Chip’s mother.” Lana shot her sister a questioning look. “Why would Mrs. Peterson call me?”
“Answer and find out.”
“Mrs. Peterson?” Lana said into the phone.
“Lana, thank goodness you answered. I didn’t know what else to do, who to call.”
The panic in Mrs. Peterson’s voice made Lana jump from the swing. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to find Chip. Do you know where he is?”
“He said he was going to the library to study.”
“He’s not answering his phone.”
“He probably turned it off.” So he wouldn’t know if I called. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m at South Miami Hospital,” Mrs. Peterson said. “His father had a heart attack.”
* * *
AT A TABLE in the law school library, Chip stared at the open page of the book before him. He’d read the text at least three times but nothing stuck. Damn Lana. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
When would he get it she was a lost cause? Every time he told himself to forget her and tried to focus, the image of how sexy and gorgeous she’d looked last night in his bed crept into his brain, disrupting anything else.
Get over it. She can’t be with anyone as long as she obsesses about a ghost.
But would he ever get over Lana? He’d loved her forever. He’d basically been protecting her from ugly truths since they were kids. Yeah, and what good had that done?
He tapped his pen on the table. Maybe if he hadn’t tried to protect her, had just been honest with her, had told her the truth about her brother, things could have been different.
He’d never know. There were no do-overs in this life.
Why did he feel the need to protect her, anyway?
“Chip.”
He glanced up at the sound of his whispered name.
Lana stood before him, her dark eyes intent on him. He released a long breath. What was she doing here? They’d said enough to each other already. And how the hell did she find him? She must have searched the entire library—not an easy task—so whatever she wanted... Then he noticed the pinched expression around her beautiful lips.
Something was very wrong.
She took a quick glance around the area with troubled eyes and said in a quiet voice, “I need to talk to you.”
A student at the adjoining desk looked up with a frown at Lana’s words.
Chip rose to follow her out of the reading room, but she placed a hand on his arm and said, “Get your books.”
His gut tightened at her tone. With a growing sense of unease, he gathered his belongings, stuffed them inside his pack and followed her out of the library. He knew Lana. She wouldn’t have tracked him down unless it was something serious. Disastrous. Maybe something had happened to her mom or sister and she needed his help.
And of course he’d give her whatever she needed. No matter how much she disappointed him, he’d do whatever he could for her.
When they reached the front door, he reached around her and pushed it open. She met his gaze with a small smile and murmured her thanks.
Chip squinted when they reached the bright sunlight outside. She turned to face him and took a deep breath, her full breasts rising with the motion.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Your father is in South Miami Hospital.”
“My father?” he blurted, although he’d heard her clearly. That was so not what he’d expected her to say.
“Your mom called me when she couldn’t reach you.” Lana reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s had a heart attack.”
“My father?” he asked again. Apparently he couldn’t manage to say anything else.
“Yes, your dad. He’s in Cardiac ICU. Your mom needs you. I’ll take you to her.”
Chip swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “How bad?”
“I don’t have any other details. Can you leave your car here for a while?”
Chip nodded, unable to focus on anything but the unbelie
vable idea that his father, a man who seldom even had a cold, was in the hospital. In an intensive care unit, no less.
“Good,” Lana said, “because I don’t think you should drive. I’ll take you.”
Without another word, he followed her to her vehicle. After he’d slid into the front seat he asked, “Is my sister already there?” He hated the idea that his mom was alone.
“I don’t know,” Lana answered. “I only talked to your mom briefly, just long enough to promise to find you.”
“You have no information about his condition?”
“I’m sorry, Chip. You can call her.”
“Of course.” He reached into his pack for his phone and turned it on. “I always shut down when I’m studying.”
“I know,” Lana said.
“God, poor Mom.”
“She understands.”
Chip shook his head and punched the speed dial for his mom’s phone, but his call went to voice mail after five rings.
“She’s not answering,” he said.
“Then she’s probably in conference with the doctor.”
Chip stared out the window. What if his father was dying? What were the last words he’d said to his dad? What if he didn’t get a chance to even say goodbye?
As if she knew what he was thinking, Lana said, “Your father is a strong, healthy man, Chip. Don’t give up hope.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
UNEXPECTED TEARS FLOODED Lana’s eyes when Chip rushed forward to embrace his mother in the stark hospital waiting room. Other visitors glanced up at the commotion and then quickly looked away.
Lana had never seen Mrs. Peterson look anything but crisp and ready to handle whatever life threw at her, but this afternoon she appeared wrung out. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she embraced her son.
When she released him, his sister, Jan, stepped forward for her own hug. Afterward Mrs. Peterson began speaking softly to Chip, holding his hand. He stared at his mom, listening intently. Lana couldn’t hear, but assumed his mom was informing Chip on what had happened to his father. Not wanting to intrude during such a private family moment, she hung back. What could she do to help?
Maybe she should leave.
But Mrs. Peterson’s watery gaze settled on Lana. She had the same vivid blue eyes as Chip.
“Thank you for finding him for me, Lana,” Mrs. Peterson said, her voice catching.
Lana stepped forward. “How is Mr. Peterson?”
“In surgery,” Mrs. Peterson said. “We won’t know anything for hours.”
“The surgeon said he’d update us when he could,” Jan said.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without Bob,” Mrs. Peterson said, on another sob. “What if he doesn’t make it?”
“Don’t talk like that, Mom,” Jan said soothingly.
Lana wondered where Chip’s nieces were. Probably home with Jan’s husband. Waiting for the results of bypass surgery was not appropriate for children.
“He’d been out of breath lately, but dismissed it as the heat or his age,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I should have made him go to his physician, to a cardiologist.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom,” Chip said. “This isn’t anybody’s fault.”
Lana bit her bottom lip, again wondering what she ought to do. Chip looked lost, but so did his mother and sister. She’d always loved his family. If only she could do something to make them feel better. But of course there was nothing. Only Mr. Peterson’s surgeon could reassure them at this point.
“Is there anything I can do?” Lana asked. “Would you like me to get some coffee from the cafeteria?”
“Thank you, Lana,” Mrs. Peterson responded absently. “That would be nice.”
“Of course,” Lana murmured, with another glance at Chip. He met her gaze but said nothing. He stared right through her, as if she were invisible.
Lana released a breath. She had so much she wanted to say to him, but now wasn’t the time. Anything she wanted to tell him had to wait.
And maybe it was too late.
Because their horrible argument occurred the same day as his father’s heart attack, one disaster would forever be tangled up in his mind with the other. Chip might really be done with her.
On her way out, she shot a final look at Mrs. Peterson, who had collapsed onto a seat and buried her head in her hands. Lana ached for Chip’s mom, could only imagine the pain she felt. She was a wonderful lady, terrified of losing the love of her life. The Petersons were the perfect, happy couple. Her own mother had envied their marital bliss. And Mr. Peterson had been Mom’s hero during the divorce.
Maybe it was better to never allow yourself to care too deeply about anyone. Who had that ever worked out for? No one she knew. Not for Dan and Cindy. No question her mom had always picked the wrong guy. And even if you found the right guy, that rare good guy like Mr. Peterson, you still could end up losing him.
If Chip had been her Mr. Right, she’d already blown it big-time.
* * *
THE NEXT SATURDAY night after her shift, Lana arrived home to an empty house. Her breath caught when she didn’t see Chip’s truck in the driveway. She’d been hoping to see him, that he’d be awake. So far he’d slept here each night.
She’d barely spoken to him during the preceding week. When not in class, he spent all of his time at the hospital or helping his mom do chores around the Peterson home.
Had he moved out? Lana had worried about that all week. If he moved out, they might never get a chance to talk.
But could they smooth over their differences? A simple conversation wouldn’t solve their problems. Not when he insisted she stop the search for her brother’s murderer. Chip wasn’t in charge of her life, and he knew how important justice was to her, to her mother.
She pushed open the front door and hurried toward his room. The living room was dark, but as usual Chip had left a light on for her.
She whooshed out a breath when she spotted his laptop on the desk. All of his belongings remained where they belonged.
The relief flooding her made her lean against the doorjamb. She hadn’t realized how much she needed him to still live here as her gaze floated over his possessions. She liked living with Chip.
No, that wasn’t what caused this strong reaction. She’d fallen in love with Chip.
What was she going to do about that? What could she do?
Tell him. That’s what.
He’d probably decided to stay the night at his parents’ after working late to prepare a room for his father’s homecoming. The family had decided Mr. Peterson should do his cardiac rehab at home and could afford the cost of therapists coming to the house. In one of their few brief conversations, Chip had related the excellent news that if his dad completed the prescribed rehabilitation, he should recover, although it would be months before he could return to work.
A beam of light from next door flashed across the living room. Lana turned to watch a car pull into Gary’s driveway. Out of habit, she glanced at the time. Almost 1:00 a.m., so he had a late customer. Should she bother to record the license plate?
She’d finally heard from a Detective Randy Clark at Vice, but the news wasn’t good. They needed something more concrete in order to set up formal surveillance. They were swamped with cases. Gary looked like small potatoes. They had to be careful because of the recent corruption charges. Blah, blah.
Had all of her efforts been for nothing?
She still switched cars and changed out of her uniform every night at her old apartment before driving here. If she drove her police unit home, Gary would learn she was a cop, which would mean she had zero chance of proving he was a murderer.
Needing to unwind before she collapsed into bed, Lana boiled water for chamomile tea. By the time she’d settled in her usual spot before the side window, Gary’s customer had left.
Late for another one to arrive, but she didn’t have anything better to do. Why not keep an eye out for druggies looking to score?
But maybe it was time to give up. Her cold case had frozen into blue ice.
She had no more leads. No threads to pull. She’d even managed to alienate Chip.
Was she feeling this way because Chip had demanded she stop? Or perhaps because of his father’s heart attack?
The unexpected medical crisis had spooked her. Shaken her up. Made her realize her own life ticked away while she remained focused on a murder that had occurred eight years ago. How long should she keep at it?
Should she give up? Walk away without ever learning who had murdered her brother? Could she do that to her mother? To herself? Maybe she had to.
She’d done her best but had failed. Just like her mother.
She hated the idea of failure, that despite everything she’d done, Danny’s murderer would never be found, never be punished. She didn’t want to be that person, that kind of cop.
As she sipped her warm, sweet tea, Gary’s porch light came on. A moment later, her neighbor hurried out his front door, jumped into his car and peeled away.
What was the rush at 1:30 a.m.?
And where the hell was he jetting off to? Was he high and going out to party? Her department knew only too well about rowdy clubs that remained open this late in South Beach or downtown Miami. Clubs full of illegal drug use. The police responded to at least one fatal overdose a week.
Or maybe Gary was making a delivery to a special customer.
Wherever he was going, he would likely be gone for a while. She took a deep breath. She’d been itching to search his house. Maybe she could find that concrete evidence Detective Clark demanded.
It was now or never.
Lana jumped to her feet and entered the kitchen. She dumped her tea in the sink and found a flashlight in a drawer. She flicked the switch to make sure it worked and jammed it in her jeans pocket. She snapped on vinyl gloves and passed through the laundry room, into the garage, where she rummaged through a box of gimme hats, swag from Chip’s various competitions. She selected a dark one and stuffed her hair inside. Next she grabbed her small ladder and a hammer and exited the side door.
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