by Lisa Jackson
Despite the sweltering heat trapped in the little house, Shannon’s blood seemed to turn to ice as she stared at the two images: two blackened threats somehow tied to the child she hadn’t seen since birth. “What does it mean?” she asked in a whisper. Her three brothers, who looked so much alike they were oftentimes confused, were staring at her, their blue eyes dark with anger, their thin lips even more compressed, their square jaws set and hard.
Shea said, “We hoped you’d know.”
Slowly she shook her head. “I have no idea.” Fear skittered down her spine. “Who would…?”
“We’ll find him,” Aaron insisted, but she saw no such assurance in Shea or Robert’s eyes.
“Maybe this is something we should show to Travis Settler.” Her stomach tightened painfully and her mind spun, trying to figure out how the adoptive father of her child could have anything to do with the fire, with the charred missive left on her porch. “It seems like more than a coincidence that he’s in Santa Lucia, my daughter’s missing, and part of her birth certificate was left on the porch on her birthday.”
“He was in Oregon when the birth certificate was left,” Shea said.
“You’re certain?” Aaron asked.
“Looks that way. We’re double-checking with the Oregon State Police and the local sheriff.”
“But he did just happen to be here when the fire broke out,” Robert said.
“That he did.” Shea nodded.
Shannon squared her shoulders. “So then, there’s no reason to wait, is there? Let’s go talk to him.”
Chapter 12
The last person Travis expected to see on the other side of his door was Shannon Flannery, but there she stood under the overhang of the porch that surrounded the rooms of the motel. Her face showed evidence of the beating she’d taken—cuts and swelling, some mottled bruising that no amount of makeup could hide, though it didn’t look as if she’d bothered. She was surrounded by three men who dwarfed her, three men who, though not identical, appeared enough alike that it didn’t take a geneticist to figure out they were brothers. Two of the six-footers were the same men he’d seen escort her down the courthouse steps during her trial; the third obviously another Flannery sibling.
“Travis Settler?” she asked, green eyes narrowed as she craned her neck to stare him full in the face. Her arm was in a sling and she stood stiffly. He remembered the gash in her side, the wound on the back of her head. There were also small pools of blood visible in the whites of her eyes. “I’m Shannon Flannery, but you already know that, don’t you? We met at my place, after someone torched it.”
“That’s right.”
“I asked you your name but you didn’t give it.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“Right,” she said, uninterested in hiding her cynicism.
He didn’t blame her. His excuse sounded as lame as it was.
“Looks like we need to talk, Settler.”
He glanced at the stern-faced men and she quickly pointed each one out in turn. “My brothers: Shea, fire inspector with the Santa Lucia Police Department.” He was the tallest with the same black hair as the one she next introduced. “Robert, he’s a firefighter with the local fire department.” Her gaze flicked to the last brother. “Aaron is a private investigator.”
Aaron gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He was the shortest by about an inch, thicker in the body with slightly hunched shoulders. A bushy moustache covered his upper lip and something dark and unfathomable lurked in his gaze.
In an instant, Travis didn’t trust him.
The jury was out on the other two.
“I heard you were the guy at the fire the other night,” she said, “and that you’re my daughter’s adoptive father and that she’s missing.” She was shaking now. Anger snapped in her gaze, fury set her jaw. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I think I made a mistake.”
“A pretty damned big one. Are you going to invite us in or are you going to make me stand here in the parking lot?”
So far the men with her hadn’t said a word, just stared at him as if he was Satan incarnate. He thought about the small motel room with its one chair, two double beds and limited space. He couldn’t imagine being crushed into it with this small firebrand of a woman and her three looming, suspicious brothers.
“How about we take this to the restaurant?” he asked, hitching his chin toward El Ranchito, the eatery associated with the motel. “I’ll buy you all a drink.”
Shea’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Distrusting.
“The room’s too small,” Travis explained as he walked back inside, grabbed his wallet off the desk, then stepped outside where the night was warm and close, the thrum of traffic ever-present. He closed the door behind him. “That okay with you?” he asked Shannon and ignored the goons who were with her. He’d deal with her. Fine. But not the whole testosterone-laden group of them.
“I’ll pass on the drink,” she said, scrutinizing him. “The restaurant’s fine.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
They walked across the parking lot and into the cool, dark interior of the restaurant. Travis held open the swinging doors to the bar for Shannon and her fleet of Flannerys, then found a large corner table near the window, away from both the shaved-headed men who were playing pool and the group wearing baseball caps while watching sports highlights on the television mounted over the bar.
They all slid into chairs and Travis noticed that Shannon grimaced as she sat down directly across from him. She stared at him across the dark, scarred wood. Two of her brothers sat on either side of her. Shea positioned himself on one end.
Travis hardly knew where to start.
Before he could utter a word, a waitress appeared and, seemingly unaware that the small crowd was in anything but a party mood, chatted and took orders, then swung over to the bar.
“I owe you an apology,” Travis began. “Yes, I am Dani’s father. My wife and I adopted her thirteen years ago.” His lungs tightened and the weight in his chest was nearly unbearable. “You’re right, she’s missing, there are very few clues as to what happened and I got real sick of sitting around and waiting for a call that wasn’t going to come.”
“And what if it does?” Shannon asked, her face pale beneath her bruises, her lips barely moving. “What if whoever took her tries to get in touch with you?”
“There are people who will answer the phone.”
“What if the kidnappers refuse to talk to anyone but you?”
“I have a cell. They’ll be directed to me.” He felt suddenly tired and old, his looming failure as a father settling hard on his shoulders. “They’re not going to call, Shannon.”
Her shoulders stiffened at his familiar use of her name. “Because you think she’s a runaway?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Dani’s never shown any indication of wanting to leave home. We don’t fight, well, not much—” he saw the concern in her features, the hunger for any information about the child she gave up. “Look.” He spread his hands. “I really don’t know what to think.”
The waitress returned with four bottles of beer and a club soda for Shannon. Conversation died as a fresh basket of tortilla chips and a small bowl of mixed nuts were placed on the table.
Once the waitress had moved off Travis leaned closer to Shannon. She flinched at his close proximity. “I said I made a mistake, but the reason I did was because I had nothing to go on. All I knew was that my daughter had recently expressed some interest in her birth parents.”
“And what did you tell her?” Shannon asked carefully.
“To wait. That when she was eighteen, when I hoped she’d be mature enough to handle the situation, I’d tell her everything I knew.”
“But you kept records. You came down here with weapons and equipment. You were sneaking around my house.” Her face suddenly suffused with color, her eyes hard. “You spied on me. You thought I took her. And, for all I know, you torched my shed.”
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“I’ve done a lot of things, some of them pretty stupid lately, but, trust me, I didn’t set the fire.”
“You were there,” Shea said, fingering his bottle, not drinking from it.
“And you had all kinds of spy gear and weapons and information on Shannon,” the shortest one, Aaron, pointed out.
“I jumped to conclusions, because I had nowhere to look.”
Shannon pointed a finger at his chest. “So you decide to harass me?”
“I was just looking for my kid.” Travis sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a long tug from his bottle, barely tasting the beer. He held her gaze, ignored the three brothers. “And I was grasping at straws. I’m sorry.” He motioned to the sling on her arm. “I had nothing to do with the fire. Really. I drove down from Oregon. That night was my first opportunity to see what was what.”
“And instead of knocking on my door, or calling, you chose to slink around the place like a thief in the night.”
“I didn’t want to start making accusations until I knew a little more about you.”
“By spying on me.”
“Yes.”
“You son of a bitch!”
He pushed himself toward her again so that he was certain she could hear every word. He could smell the scent of soap on her skin, the lingering smell of antiseptic from the hospital. “You have to understand one thing, Ms. Flannery—” He sensed all three brothers tense, coiled, as if ready to spring. He didn’t care. He would almost welcome a physical match so that he could unleash all of his pent-up frustration. Inching his nose closer to Shannon, he muttered harshly, “I would do anything, you got that? Anything to find my kid. So, I apologize if I inconvenienced you, if I bothered you, because, yeah, I did spy on you. And I would do it again. In a heartbeat. Anything! If it meant getting Dani back!”
“Ever the protective father.” She couldn’t hide her scorn.
Her barb hit its mark but he didn’t back down. “I just didn’t know whether you were involved. I had to rule you out.”
“And have you?”
“I think so, but that kind of leaves me with nowhere to turn,” he added sourly. “So, as soon as the authorities remove me from the list of suspects in the fire, which is bound to happen soon”—he glanced over to Shea who was seated stock-still at the end of the table—“I’ll give up this part of the wild-goose chase and go back to square one.”
She swallowed. Travis didn’t let his eyes stray down to where the movement of her throat and her escalating pulse were visible. He sat back down in his seat and took another swig from his long-necked bottle, tried not to feel overwhelmed with fear. Pool balls clicked. On the television the scene switched from golf to baseball.
Shannon drew a long breath. “For the record, Settler, I agree with you on one point: I’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to make sure my daughter is safe as well.” As if seeing the protest rising in his throat, she added tensely, “Just because I gave her up for adoption doesn’t mean I don’t love her, or that I don’t have maternal feelings for her. I gave her up because I did, and do, love her. It…It was the best thing for her. I was sure of that or believe me, it wouldn’t have happened. Now…” Her teeth clenched. Her chin began to wobble. With an effort she took control of her emotions. “So don’t fight me, okay? I’ll help you any way I can. And…to that end…I think I might know something that will help.”
Travis stilled, waiting.
Shannon glanced at her brothers. Travis saw the tallest one—the guy from the police department, Shea, give a nearly imperceptible nod.
“You might not have been so far off in coming here.”
“What?” Travis’s eyes bore into hers. “You contacted Dani? You know where she is?”
“No, no.” She held up a hand. “Slow down, cowboy. I have no idea where my, er, your daughter is. Haven’t seen her since she was ten minutes old.” A shadow passed behind her eyes. Even in the darkened room where men huddled at the bar, hovering over their microbrews, and the strains of some Mexican music were faint, but present, he saw that fleeting umbra of pain.
“Then…?”
She told him. About the weird phone call. About the feeling that she was being watched. About the burned birth certificate, Dani’s birth certificate.
He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. “Son of a bitch!” Travis hissed. One of his fists slammed into the tabletop, causing the basket of chips to hop. Several heads at the bar swiveled toward them.
One of the men shooting pool said, “Shit!” as his shot careened in the wrong direction. He glared at Travis while the man he was playing against smothered a smile.
Travis didn’t give them a second glance. “Who?” he demanded, and she shook her head, lifted a tired shoulder. “Who would do this?” His head was spinning. Dani’s disappearance and the charred piece of her birth certificate had to be linked. But how? And why? And who, damn it? No one had mentioned this before; no one had told him that his kid was linked to what was going on down here. For the love of God, where the hell was Dani?
Nerves stretched to the breaking point, he turned his head and glared at the brothers coolly sipping their goddamned beers. The slimy one, Aaron, was popping peanuts like they were pills, like he was an addict looking for a quick fix. The middle guy, the fireman, whatever his name was—Bob, Rob, no, Robert—rolled his bottle between his palms. The third one, the fire investigator, Shea, hadn’t touched his beer, nor a single chip. Arms folded across his chest he was scrutinizing Travis intently, like a hawk perched on a high branch, ready to dive at the slightest movement in the grass below.
“You know something more,” Travis charged, his voice low as the patrons near the bar turned back to their drinks and sports highlights. “Have you seen her?” His gaze whipped back to Shannon. “Heard from her?”
“No. I had no idea she wasn’t safe with her family. When I received the phone call and found the birth certificate, I just thought someone was pulling a cruel prank. As you might have guessed, I’ve had some, er, trouble with being harassed before. I’m sure you know all about my shady past.”
He didn’t respond.
“So in an effort to maintain a low profile and figure this thing out on my own, to not stir up the old hornet’s nest again, I didn’t go to the police.” The corners of her mouth tightened. “Instead I asked Aaron to look into it for me as he’s a private investigator. I figure you’d understand as you’re a kind of PI, too, I gather.”
Travis didn’t bother with her question. He zeroed in on the brother with the moustache. “What did you find?”
“Nothing. The certificate was a copy. When the fire happened, I turned it over to the police.” Aaron crunched on more peanuts.
Shea added, “The lab has it, analyzing the paper, the burn pattern, and we looked over Shannon’s place for evidence, footprints, fingerprints, an old cigarette butt, something left. So far nothing. No prints on the scrap of burned paper.” He reached into his pocket, producing what seemed to be a copy of the nearly destroyed document.
“Jesus,” Travis said staring at the barely legible bit of information. There was just enough left to ensure that whoever was reading it would get the point. “This guy’s really working it,” he said, glancing up at Shannon. “He wanted you to start thinking about Dani.”
She nodded, then rubbed the arm in the sling with her free hand, as if chasing away a chill. “But I had no idea where she was, who she was with, that she was missing…”
“He must’ve counted on me coming down here.”
“How would he know that you had information on the birth parents?”
“Lucky guess,” Travis thought aloud, staring at the copied remnants of the birth certificate. “Or else he knew somehow.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. My wife and I didn’t tell anyone and actually she didn’t know as much as I did. After she passed, and Dani started asking more and more questions, I began adding to the information I already had.
” He didn’t admit to seeing Shannon on the courthouse steps, couldn’t see how that would help his cause. “But nothing prepared me for this.”
“Nothing could,” Shannon said as if she, too, experienced his pain.
Which was ridiculous, Travis thought. She didn’t even know Dani, hadn’t seen her daughter, if she was to be believed, since those first few minutes after her birth.
“Someone wanted me down here,” Travis said.
“You think so?” Shea’s eyebrows had slammed together to form one black, angry line.
“I’d bet.”
“Pretty big leap, if you ask me,” Aaron chimed in. His blue eyes charged Travis with a million unspeakable crimes.
“Maybe, but I’m here and the birth certificate was burned here. Not that big a leap.”
The brothers didn’t respond. Nor did Shannon. Travis had a sense they were still holding back. “So what else have you got?”
“Nothing we can discuss.”
“I’m Dani’s damned father.” His voice was low but intense.
Shannon said, “And you still could have set the fire at my place.”
He shook his head. “I was just there. Spying on you, yes, because I was desperate to locate my kid, but I did not torch anything.” He was angry now, felt a vein throb in his temple. “And, for the record, I couldn’t have been involved in the birth certificate thing, because, according to you it happened on Dani’s birthday around midnight, and I was with my daughter that night. She had a sleepover.”
Shannon’s eyes darkened. She looked away, as if she didn’t want to be reminded of the normal activities of raising the child she hadn’t seen since birth.
Shea nodded. “We checked. We know. Sheriff Carter vouched for you. His fianceé’s kid was at the party.”
Travis winced at the memory. Yes, Allie had been at the house, along with six other twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls. Enough to nearly drive him crazy at the time. Now, of course, all he felt was an overwhelming sense of guilt.