Deadly Games

by Mary Stone

  “I guess.”

  He looked over at her computer. “What are you working on now?”

  “Oh, same old, same old. An adoptee looking for her bio parents.”

  “Sounds good.” That was just the type of assignment she knew he wished she’d handle all the time. Easy. Safe. Boring as hell.

  “Not really.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, reaching over and touching her hand. “But it’s important work.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it? Knowing who your parents are might bring more bad than good. There are so many cheaters and liars and scumbags on the earth. I sometimes feel like no one is honest.”

  “That’s not true. I’m honest. You’re honest.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Right?”

  She gave him a doubtful look.

  Alarm flashed on his face. “Right?”

  She waved whatever he was insinuating away. “Oh, of course. But what I mean is, there are a lot of losers out there, and when parents go out of their kids’ lives, it’s usually for a good reason. Even present parents can be more trouble than they’re worth. You’d probably rather you didn’t know your parents, considering how much trouble they cause you.”

  He gave her a surprised look. “No. Yeah, my dad can be challenging. But hell…is that what you think?”

  She shrugged.

  He studied her face and understanding dawned. “Wait. You’re thinking about your dad again, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “If it means that much to you, just look him up,” he said too breezily for her liking. God, he was so good-looking, almost super-hero gorgeous, but sometimes, he could be so dense. Sometimes she felt like he didn’t know her at all.

  “Because! It’s like I said. It could be a lot more trouble than not knowing him. He obviously had problems and a life that I couldn’t be a part of. He left for a reason, and it’s nothing good. Do I want to open that can of worms?” She sighed and dropped her sandwich down on the paper. She no longer had an appetite. “He obviously made it clear that he doesn’t want to get in touch with me. I might just be opening myself up to rejection again.”

  “Well…maybe he would like to get back in your life, but he’s just worried you’ll turn him away,” he said, saying the thing that made the wall of resolve she’d carefully constructed start to crumble. “You’ll never know unless you try, right?”

  Yeah. That was true. Maybe he was out there, thinking about her, wanting to open the lines of communication and apologize. Maybe he’d thought about her just as much as she’d thought about him.

  Maybe he was dead. She just didn’t know.

  She wrinkled her nose. “How can a man just leave a cute, adorable, bouncing baby? I was four days old, for god’s sake. His flesh and blood. What the hell is wrong with him?”

  What was wrong with me?

  Linc studied her. “Maybe he had a good reason.”

  Kylie shot him a hard look. He was just supposed to agree with her on this, not play devil’s advocate. What kind of boyfriend was he?

  “Like?”

  Linc shrugged. “Can’t really think of anything, but you could find out. Track him down. Give him a call. Get his side of the story.”

  She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, just as Linc’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

  Kylie licked melted gouda off her fingers, thinking. Her mother hadn’t said anything negative about her father before, other than that he’d possibly traded her in for another model. She hadn’t said anything positive, either. From the speed with which Rhonda Hatfield changed the subject whenever Kylie had brought up her dad, she could tell her mother didn’t want to touch it with a very long pole. But why? Maybe she just needed to attack her mother and demand answers, as painful as that discussion would be.

  She was so deep in thought, imagining herself cornering her poor mother and firing questions at her until the woman who’d nurtured her all these years broke down and shouted, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!” that she didn’t notice Linc had hung up.

  “Got a SAR case,” he said, fixing the cover onto his sandwich and standing. “Wow. First one in a week.”

  Kylie pouted. Why did he get to have all the fun? “Lucky. What is it this time?”

  “A kid wandered away from an elementary school playground,” he said, patting his side. Storm rose immediately, ever the faithful and ready soldier. “Shouldn’t be hard. Weather’s been good.”

  Kylie swallowed. Sure, the weather was good. And most likely, the little kid had just gotten turned around, and they’d find him, shaken but unhurt. Nine times out of ten, that’s what happened. But those other times, the times when the victim was hurt, or worse…Kylie worried.

  And not just for the child.

  Linc’s PTSD issues had come to the forefront a few weeks ago, when he’d had a panic attack working on a garage collapse. He’d assured her again and again that he was fine, but she still worried that one day he’d run into a situation that undid all of the months of therapy he’d been excelling at.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she said, her eyes drifting to the computer. Linc had been a welcome distraction. Left alone, who knew what stupid and borderline masochistic things she could be tempted to do?

  He nodded and kissed her on the top of the head. “Yeah. Of course. You worry about yourself. All right?”

  She nodded and watched him and Storm leave through the storefront window. He’d parked right in front of the little brick building, so her eyes lingered on him as he climbed into his big truck with the German Shepherd and pulled away. Again, she found herself grinning goofily after him.

  Linc was a person of few words, so he never really said it, but she knew he loved her. And she loved him.

  But that was the thing. She’d seen precisely one picture of her parents together, and in it, there was no doubting the love they shared. Her mother loved her father, once. And maybe, once upon a time, he’d loved her mother.

  And he’d left.

  Sometimes even people you knew well could completely let you down. She didn’t know what kind of reassurance Linc could give her, but all she knew was that she still had doubts, and she wasn’t sure if anything could ever erase them.

  And they were all put there by one person. Her father.

  She looked at Vader and shrugged. “I know, boy. I’m an idiot to have my father mean this much when he wasn’t around to shape my life at all. But I guess Linc’s right. If I’m ever going to get past this, I need to find him.”

  She picked up her cell phone and dialed her mother.

  2

  After closing up Starr Investigations, Kylie arrived at her mother’s home in downtown Asheville a little bit after six that night. She and her mother were close. Not a day went by that they didn’t call each other up to chat, which, because both of them were expert chatters, usually lasted an hour or more. They’d planned to have dinner together tonight, as they did once a week, which gave Rhonda Hatfield the opportunity to fawn over Kylie’s boyfriend and hint about grandchildren.

  Rhonda clearly adored Linc, and sometimes, Kylie thought the adoration was so fanatical that she may have liked him more than her own daughter. There was no telling what tidbit of Kylie’s past Rhonda might pull out to embarrass her only child. Last time, it was a video of her camp talent show, where she’d been all of twelve and had deluded herself into thinking she was destined to be the next American Idol. As much as Kylie loved her mom, she’d shown up every single time with a clenched jaw, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Parents. They could sometimes be so insane.

  And she wanted to know her father…why, again?

  As much as she loved being with Linc, she was glad that the search and rescue he’d been called out on was running late. Linc had texted her to tell her that they hadn’t been able to locate the boy, a third grader. He and the other rescuers were preparing for a long night.<
br />
  Great. That meant her mother would have to save the videos of her dancing naked in the sprinkler for another day.

  She parallel parked outside Rhonda’s house, clipped a leash onto Vader’s collar, and led him up the stairs. She opened the door and brought Vader in.

  Bringing Vader into her mother’s house had only been a recent thing. Her mother hated animals, dogs especially. But it’d been so rainy lately that Rhonda had let Kylie bring Vader into the mudroom, where he could have water and enjoy the dry.

  “Mom!” she called, letting Vader into the mudroom and filling a Tupperware container of water for him. She scratched his ears and closed the door behind her as she heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs.

  When her mother came into view, she searched over her daughter’s shoulder, as if she’d forgotten something, then pouted. “No Linc?”

  Kylie shook her head. “He had a rescue.”

  “Oh no!” Rhonda was visibly stricken. “I hope whoever is missing is found safe, and I made Linc his favorite. Lasagna.”

  Kylie rolled her eyes. Rhonda Hatfield held the “way to the heart was through the stomach” mentality. “Sorry. You’re stuck with just me.”

  Rhonda linked her arm in her daughter’s and dragged her into the kitchen. The wine bottle was waiting on the center island, already open. She poured a glass for her daughter, and an even bigger one for herself.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m never stuck with you, my only child and my biggest accomplishment. Besides, this’ll give us some time for one-on-one girl chat.”

  Kylie took a sip of her wine, her fingers shaking a little. This was destined to be more than just “girl chat.” She’d spent the whole afternoon gathering up the courage to broach the subject. Now, she was ready.

  Or…as ready as she was going to get.

  She took a deep breath and turned to the fridge, where she opened the freezer and pulled out the ice cube her mother always insisted on putting in her wine to mellow it out. After plopping it into her glass, she slipped from the kitchen and went to the cabinet where all the books of photos were held.

  Most of them were of Kylie, of course, but one day, when she’d been about ten years old, she’d been looking through her mother’s family Bible and found the only picture of her father she’d ever seen. Her fingers trembled as she opened the cabinet’s door and pulled the Bible out again. The picture was still hidden between the pages.

  It had been taken in a hospital room on the day she was born. She was just a tiny burrito in her mother’s arms, and her mother was beaming with happiness. Next to her was a man in profile, smiling broadly under a dark moustache, his mullet unable to detract from his handsome face. They appeared to be the very definition of a happy family.

  And so very much in love. Kylie knew this because the parents weren’t looking at the camera, or at the baby. They were looking at each other.

  The exposure was grainy, and a bit out of focus. But one thing that she read loud and clear? The love. The warmth was practically radiating from the photo paper. If Kylie knew nothing about that couple, she would’ve thought they were meant to be together forever.

  But he’d left…what? Less than a week after that picture was taken.

  What had happened to make things change? Why had he decided to trade her mother in for a different model? That was her mother’s belief, at least…but Kylie knew there was always two sides to every story.

  She was only getting half of it. And she was a private investigator. Almost, anyway. In her line of work, half a story was as good as nothing.

  Kylie smoothed her finger down the photo. It was faded and a bit creased, not from age but from Kylie handling it often after that initial discovery. She couldn’t count how many times she’d taken that photo out and stared at it, thinking to herself, Who are you, Adam Hatfield? How could you be so happy with my mother in this picture, and then leave her only a few days later?

  Those and a thousand other questions had simmered in her head for so long, now it felt like a pot about to overflow.

  With a sigh, Kylie placed the picture back on the Bible page and was about to put it away, when she stopped and picked it up again. It was time to take it out of the dark.

  Tucking it in the pocket of her sweater, she put the Bible away and closed the door before wandering back to the kitchen. Rhonda Hatfield smiled at her, but the look was edged in concern. “How was your day? You look tired.”

  “Oh, it was okay,” Kylie said innocently, leaning against the center island. Did she look tired? No, she probably just looked bored. The inactivity had the same effect on her as a sleepless night. Not to mention, the talk about her father had her rattled. “Same old, same old.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting restless with that job too,” Rhonda said, fanning her face. Kylie might have been cut from the same cloth as her mother, but Rhonda was much less daring. Kylie had to think she must have gotten her impulsive, risk-taking side from her father, but she never knew that for sure. “You always said how much you liked it. I thought it was your dream job.”

  “It is, it is. It’s fine. I’m not thinking of quitting. It’s just a little slow right now.”

  “Slow? You should appreciate slow. That time that serial killer almost killed you still gives me nightmares.” She fanned her face even more vigorously.

  Kylie gritted her teeth. Like she could forget convalescing in her mother’s house for weeks after that injury. She had wanted to keep the most dangerous cases from her mom, but she’d needed to stay with Rhonda while she recuperated from a bullet to the shoulder, and when news of her thwarting the serial killer ended up in the daily paper, there was no shielding Rhonda Hatfield from all the gory details. No matter how hard Kylie tried to make it seem like all she did was file papers all day, she’d clearly never live her near-death experience down.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s fine.”

  “Or what about that lunatic who ran you off the road?”

  Kylie winced. She’d mostly secreted the worst parts of that case from her mother, like the fact that that lunatic who trashed her car had nearly almost killed her too. But she’d had to explain some of it when she suddenly showed up with a new Jeep Wrangler. “I know, I know.”

  “Well, is everything all right with Linc? You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

  Kylie shook her head. “No. He’s perfect.”

  Rhonda Hatfield leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. She took her daughter’s hand. “So…tell me…” Kylie stiffened, anticipating her next words. “Do you think he’s going to pop the question?”

  Kylie gulped down half the wine. “Mom. I don’t know. We never talk about—”

  “Never talk about it? You’ve been practically living together. You don’t want to wait too long, until you’re an old maid.”

  Kylie drained her glass. “Mom, we don’t live together. I just…stay there a lot. And I’m not even twenty-five yet. I’m not old.”

  “Yes, but he’s older than you. He has to be thirty, at least. Doesn’t he want kids?”

  “I have no idea. Besides, this isn’t about him wanting kids. It’s about you wanting grandkids, right? Admit it.”

  Rhonda gave her an innocent bat of the eyelashes before conceding with a nod. “Okay, maybe. I want to be able to enjoy my precious grandbabies before I become an old, crippled lady.”

  Kylie poured herself another glass and looked her mom straight in the eye. “Mom. You’re not even fifty.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Stop saying the word ‘fifty.’ I only just turned forty-seven, thank you very much. And I want to be the cool, hip grandma. And to be a cool, hip grandma, you have to have grandkids when you’re young. So, help me out a little.”

  Vader scratched at the mudroom door. “Vader can be your grandchild. He’s willing to have a cool, hip person taking him on walks.”

  Rhonda sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know what your reluctance is. Linc is the total package. I’ve been
saying that since you first met him. He’s kind, sweet, treats you like gold…not to mention he’s a hunk.” Kylie gritted her teeth again at that word. “Most women would kill for that.”

  Kylie took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m afraid of commitment, like my dad.”

  Her mother’s eyes flashed to hers. It was the first time Kylie had mentioned the D-word in years. “Your father wasn’t afraid of commitment,” Rhonda said, turning away to check the lasagna in the oven. She dug her hands into oven mitts, opened the oven door, and stooped to pull out the pan. “In fact, he embraced it. At least at first. He was ready to take the plunge even before I was ready. He just decided, I guess, after a little while, that he wanted something different.”

  That was the most Rhonda Hatfield had ever said about her husband. Kylie pounced on it. “You’ve said that before. So, he didn’t beat around the bush when it came to proposing to you?”

  Rhonda poked the center of the steaming pan of lasagna with a fork. “I think it’s done.”

  She was purposely evading the question. Kylie sighed. “He did propose to you, right? He didn’t just say, ‘Yo! Marriage!’ and you two got hitched?” She used what was probably an awful Brooklyn accent, but she couldn’t help it. She knew that she’d been born at St. Mary’s in Brooklyn. It said so on her birth certificate, so she’d always known that her father must’ve been a New Yorker. In her mind, he sounded a lot like Ralph Macchio in The Karate Kid. Even kind of resembled him, with his dark, boyish features.

  Rhonda Hatfield looked like she’d sucked on a lemon as she lifted the pan. “Let’s eat. Bring the wine.” She carried the dinner out to the dining room table and set it down on a trivet. Then she shrugged her hand out of a mitt, grabbed the wine from her daughter, and drained her glass. “Why do you want to know all this now?”