“Yes. Tell him to make reservations at Falcons for one o’clock, a window table. You might as well give Paul’s sister’s restaurant the publicity.”
“The premise being the more photos reporters have, the less they will badger me for more.”
“That’s the idea, yes.”
Shannon made the arrangements with Jeffery, handed back the phone. “He sounds like he’s in a good mood.”
“There’s nothing a politician likes better than good news and lots of press interested in that good news. He comes across as what he is, a protective, loving brother. You’ve helped him make an overnight bump in the tracking polls. Even people who don’t care about voting now remember his name and like him.”
He brought over a platter with their meal, pulled the rolls from the oven and dropped them into a basket. “I’m saying a very short grace, if you don’t mind, because this food needs blessing.”
She grinned. “You’re not that bad a cook.”
“Years of failures have taught me a few things.” He reached across for her hand. “Jesus, I’m taking advantage of the fact I like to pray before a meal to hold her hand—I’m just saying what you already know. I appreciate this place we’ve been able to stay, and our absent host who’s been so accommodating with his home. I thank you that Shannon has gotten some much-needed sleep and looks rested, was able to find fuzzy slippers to keep her toes warm and me amused. She needs the rest of the week to be safe—from the press and the questions, and we would both like your help sorting out the coming summer. Amen.”
Matthew wasn’t surprised when her hand tightened around his and didn’t release for a long moment, but also wasn’t surprised when she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He didn’t fluster her often, but he’d been aware he could.
He buttered a roll while she fixed her plate, then passed him the serving fork. He filled his plate.
“You’re good at that,” she mentioned.
“What?”
“Speaking your mind to God.”
“I imagine you are too.”
“Not out loud.”
“You can learn. Because if you want to share a prayer with me, you’ll either need to say it out loud or write it down and let me read it.”
“Do you want me to share my prayers?”
“Yes. Or at least tell me what you’re talking about with God. He’s your best friend, Shannon. It’s kind of hard to really know you if I don’t know what you and God are talking about.”
“Oh. I see your point.” She thought about that, and her smile widened. She nodded. “Okay.”
“Now eat. My cooking is definitely not going to be good cold.”
She picked up her fork, and they ate in comfortable silence.
A few moments later, as she buttered a roll, Shannon asked, “How much do reporters know about me and the case?”
“Sure you wouldn’t just like to read the newspapers?”
“Just give me the highlights.”
Matthew nodded, cleared his throat. “They have what the FBI has made public: the abducted children, the farm, the eighteen names being searched for, the arrests so far. They picked up on the East Coast location this morning, and the noon news report had some information about stolen artworks being recovered. The news cycles have been full enough that there hasn’t been much speculation about your last eleven years, but that will come when the other facts start to slow down.”
“People will begin to pity me.”
“Only until they meet you. You’re a survivor, not a victim. It’s clearly evident.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“Brownies.”
“Not a bad meal.”
“I spent most of the day waiting for you to wake up—I had to fill the time somehow.”
She broke open another dinner roll. “Ideally, what would you like this summer to be?”
He thought about it. “You hanging out with Cindy, Charlotte, Ellie, Ann, baby-sitting Ashley, taking a few thousand photographs. Laughter becoming a regular part of your day.”
“That’s . . . I was going to say ‘sweet,’ but it’s more like a practical ‘nice.’”
“I want you to find a place you like, decorate it, and enjoy the summer. You need months spent without a list to accomplish.”
“And for yourself?”
“I’m going to enjoy hearing about what you’re doing. And the business needs me back in the office.”
Shannon went to fetch the brownies. “I suppose I can do that this summer. It sounds nice. I bought the fuzzy slippers when I went shoe shopping, because I knew they would get a comment from you.”
He studied her over his fork. “Are they warm?”
“Very comfortable.”
“They are cute,” he agreed, amused with her. “Are we playing Scrabble tonight?”
“That, or we’re watching a really lame movie. I’d hate for us to break tradition.”
Matthew got up to find the Scrabble board. “I enjoy doing both with you.”
“I know.” She began flipping tiles facedown.
“You’re going to do okay this summer,” he felt compelled to mention.
“If not, I’ll be calling you, so I’ll agree with that,” she replied and played the first word on the board.
He picked up his next tile, then played the word brownie.
Shannon laughed. “You and Becky play this game a lot.”
“We have a lot of conversations,” Matthew replied. “A board game tends to be part of that process.”
“I was thinking I would buy Jeffery a Scrabble board so I could talk with him at a measured pace this summer.”
He looked carefully over at her. “I think that’s a wise idea.”
“He needs to know.”
Matthew hesitated. “He’s your brother. He needs to know the big picture, not necessarily all the details. Tell him to call me if he has a specific question.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmm.” He played time and wished they had more of it. He’d let her go with grace because it was the right thing to do. It was time for her to spread her wings without him. But nothing said it was going to be easy for him to walk away.
34
Matthew had left something precious behind in Chicago. He knew their goodbye would be painful. Even being prepared for it, the reality was worse than he’d expected.
His kitchen was quiet again, the windows no longer rattling from the large fireworks going off, no more of Becky’s college friends raiding the refrigerator. She had managed to talk four of them into coming for the weekend. At least having guests had saved him from having too much time in which to think. Matthew found the mug he was after, poured himself more decaf, and took it with him out to the back deck. The drifting odor of sulfur was still heavy in the air, and it made his eyes water.
He leaned against the patio railing, studied the moon, listened to random firecrackers still exploding around the neighborhood, wondered idly if Shannon had also stepped outside tonight to take in the full moon. It had been three days since he’d seen her, and he thought he was actually moping. At my age, even with her a phone call away, I’m dragging around like a lost puppy.
“You miss her.”
He glanced over, realized his daughter had joined him. He draped his arm around her shoulders. “When did you get to be so smart?”
“Why don’t you call her?”
“It’s late.”
“But it’s an hour earlier there.” When he simply shook his head at her, she asked, “Is she coming out to Boston?”
“If she doesn’t, we’ll visit her together in Chicago,” he replied, brushing back a lock of her hair, wondering when this daughter of his had turned into a spitting image of her mom. “I’m glad you’re enjoying college.”
“I think it’s a rite of passage to be homesick. I miss home, but mostly I’m enjoying being there.”
He smiled, know
ing what she meant. “Home is now for visiting, not staying.”
“You should call her.”
He shook his head. “She’s sad I’m not going back to Chicago.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“She needs to know she’s strong enough to stand without me. If I’m there, she won’t know that. She’s also got family and friends to help her.”
“She’ll think you don’t want her.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll accept that I can’t with a clear conscience let her fall for the first safe guy she finds after she returned.”
Becky took his coffee mug and sipped at it. “You had a really interesting last three weeks.”
The understatement of the decade, Matthew thought. “I did.”
“Do you mind that she looked you up, found you?”
“No, I like that she did. I enjoy being useful.”
“Is that the only reason you like her?”
He thought of the wealth of feelings he had for Shannon and wisely only said, “No. And it’s not a conversation for you and me to have tonight.”
“Okay.” She handed him back his coffee. “I prefer it with some cream.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Oops. I forgot to hang it up. I was talking to Shannon.” She held out her phone. “She probably heard what we said, if you want to clarify any of your remarks.”
He chuckled as he reached for her phone. “Way too sneaky. What are they teaching you at that college?”
“One does what one has to,” she said with a smile and a shrug, then leaned in to give him a hug. “I love you, Dad.”
“It’s mutual, kiddo. Now scat.”
He held the phone as if it were a live explosive and risked asking Shannon, “First, how badly did she just embarrass you with this stunt?”
“I can deal with Becky’s idea of patching up a problem. How are you, Matthew?”
“Missing you, as you no doubt heard. How’s your weekend going?”
“I’m playing cards with Rachel, Charlotte, and Bryce. I think Rachel and I are winning, but bridge isn’t my game. Black is presently sprawled across my feet.”
“Wish you were here.” They both spoke the same thought at the same time and shared a laugh.
“You actually wouldn’t have enjoyed Boston with the sights and smells tonight,” Matthew added, “but the sentiment is real.”
“I’m coming east to see you on the seventeenth, Matthew. The driver John arranged for me is going to fly with me and make sure I survive the flight. Can you meet me at the airport?”
“Sure.”
“Find me a nice place to rent out there. I’m going to sign the lease on one in a suburb of Chicago this next week. I decided I’ve probably got enough income to have two homes.”
“You do.”
“I’m packing my pink dress and those high heels. I want to go dancing.”
He rested against the railing and smiled. “Do you?”
“I’ve also decided that dating a bunch of guys just to discover I still like you more is only accommodating your worry versus acting in my best interests. I’m not dating for a year—I agreed with my counselor on that, so don’t go all honorable on me and say no. You can just take me to dinner and dancing when I visit, the courteous thing to do with an old friend.” Neither of them could resist laughing at her description. “If in a year I don’t like you as much as I thought,” she continued, “I’ll ask to meet some of the guys you think might be a good fit.”
That list would probably have zero names on it, since he wasn’t inclined toward her finding someone else. “I’ll enjoy taking you dancing,” he replied, bypassing the rest of what she’d said.
She laughed again. “Becky said you would be reluctantly accommodating. Is this you being reluctantly accommodating?”
“This is me being aware you’re very amused right now.”
“I like you, Matthew.”
“It’s mutual,” he admitted. “Enjoy your evening, Shannon. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Not too early.”
“Not too early,” he promised.
He hung up and held out the phone toward Becky, aware all along of her watching from inside the patio door.
She rejoined him on the deck. “Mad?”
“No. Hearing her voice made me feel better.”
His daughter hugged him. “I like her.”
“I do too.”
Becky said good-night and headed back inside, looking just a bit triumphant.
Getting married again wouldn’t be such a bad next chapter in his life, Matthew decided. Give Shannon a few years, see if she still thought he was at the top of her list, then ask her the question. When he was young, any number of years would have sounded like an eternity. Now that he was older, the years seemed to be passing by in the blink of an eye.
He understood her problems better than she did, he thought. He’d read most of the journals, would have all of them read soon, and had walked a similar road with Becky. They could make it work, he knew. It wouldn’t be an easy next year or two for Shannon, but she was further along the road to recovery than he’d expected, and it wasn’t such an impossibly hard climb that he wasn’t willing to make it with someone again.
Tomorrow he’d start looking for that apartment. He didn’t have to ask to realize her intentions. She’d be living out here to avoid the press around her brother, to take advantage of being near the ocean so she could swim often. She’d start using her camera in a serious way again, and she’d invade his life however he let her. Matthew smiled. She needed this summer to be light and fun and filled with occasions to show off those high heels. He’d accommodate her. It would be a good summer for him too.
35
Matthew pulled out a chair beside Paul at the patio table, leaned back to watch Charlotte and Bryce, Shannon and Ann play croquet in the Bishops’ backyard. The two Irish Setters and Ann’s dog Black lay sprawled as a group in the shade, content to watch the game rather than chase the croquet balls.
“Glad to have this summer about over?” Paul asked.
Matthew smiled. “Hmm.” This was the first trip back to Chicago with nothing on the schedule but a chance for Shannon to visit family and friends. The next major event on the calendar would be November fourth and the vote to see if Jeffery became the next governor of Illinois. The polling data was still looking promising. The case that had begun with Shannon’s reappearance was in its final stages, the last of the arrests had been made, with answers for the final questions being slowly teased out of the evidence. The retired cop in him was pleased to see the truth sorting itself out.
“You figured out who was behind her abduction. You know why it happened,” Paul said, sounding pretty sure of himself.
Matthew considered the ice in his glass, not surprised by the question, and finally glanced over at Paul. “Yes.” He figured Paul had mostly sorted out that same answer too, knew the question wouldn’t have come unless Paul was leading somewhere.
Paul idly swatted a fly. “Can we do anything about it?”
“No.”
Paul mulled that over, leaned across the table to nudge the lid off the relish tray. “So we could do something about it, but Shannon doesn’t want us to? Or we couldn’t do anything about it even if we wanted to?”
Matthew chose to answer by simply tipping his glass toward Shannon.
“You okay with that?”
Matthew shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“The address where she was to be dropped off is a rather glaring hole in the evidence record.”
“I can imagine,” Matthew agreed.
Paul ate another olive off the tray. “Any problem if I go arrest a couple of lawyers? I’ve been gleaning some interesting facts from hither and yon.”
Matthew smiled at the way Paul said it. He calculated the odds that one lawyer in particular would try to bring Shannon’s mom into matters, be believed, and think it in his own best interest to be associated with one of the most well-publiciz
ed abduction cases in the last decade. “Have at it.”
Paul nodded. “Adam likes arresting lawyers. Theo thinks we should give him the honor.”
“Works for me,” Matthew said. “Adam also likes working the press, and he’s good at it. The publicity won’t hurt his career either.”
“Our thoughts exactly. Theo and I are both ready for reporters to lose track of our phone numbers.”
Matthew reached over and picked up a slice of green pepper. “Shannon asked me to bring out the journals for you to put into evidence, all but the first month. She doesn’t want any of the diaries to see the light of day if you can avoid it, but she won’t risk the first one.”
Paul lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve read them all,” Matthew confirmed. He never wanted to have to discuss what he’d read, but when Shannon occasionally shared a look with him that showed him another slice of pain, he had a sense of what memory had just flared up. They replayed in vivid colors at times, and the number of hours she spent swimming, letting go of those memories, were steadily climbing. Her counselor was swimming with her some days, training for a long-distance charity swim they planned to do together next year.
“I’m hoping the journals aren’t necessary,” Paul said. “I think it’ll work itself down to three trials, and the rest as plea deals. Flynn testifying is really hurting the family.”
“His plea worked out yet?”
“We’ll sort it out after the trials are done. I’m guessing he gets twenty-five years, serves fifteen of it.”
“I think Shannon could live with that.”
“She hasn’t been back to see him since that first time.”
“Flynn told her to visit him on birthdays and anniversaries, and to write occasionally. She’s honoring that. She doesn’t talk about him much these days. How’s the collection of stolen goods coming along?”
“We’ve accumulated a small warehouse of items to sift through,” Paul replied with some humor. “The paperwork involved is drowning my clerical staff.”
Matthew remembered all the paperwork involved in robbery cases. “And is the rest of your life settling down now?”
Paul shrugged. “Someone tried to put a bomb in the mayor’s car last week. That rather got our attention.”
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