He shifted his worried look to Lisa. “Maybe, but he—”
“No maybes. Look at her.” Lisa nodded her head toward Lucy, who was laughing with Mary over something Patrick said. “She’s doing all right. She’s putting the past behind her. So is Mary. Please, Peter, they have a right to move on and be happy with where their lives are taking them now.”
Peter drew a slow sigh and nodded. “You’re right. But seeing him here after all these years just…shook something loose deep inside. I didn’t do enough to protect her fifteen years ago, and I don’t intend to make the same mistake again.”
Peter’s obvious love and protectiveness for his sister touched a tender spot in Lisa’s heart. If she gave in to the call of her heart, if she let herself fall for Peter, would he be that supportive of her? She’d been on her own, away from her family in Texas so long, the idea of someone looking out for her, having her back through the tough times in life held tremendous appeal. Carrying the load alone grew wearisome at times. She missed having someone close to lean on in difficult times. And the months since her divorce had been very difficult.
Knowing how much Peter cared about his family and looked out for their best interests spoke volumes regarding his character and priorities. Had she really accused him of having his priorities mixed up the day she called him to the school about Patrick’s misbehavior?
She saw now that Peter was, in fact, a single father, juggling his son’s needs with his career and a cascade of recent family tragedies. That was a lot for anyone, and if Peter was overwhelmed by it all, that only made him human, not irresponsible.
Lucy caught Lisa’s eye, pulling her out of her thoughts briefly. “Save room for dessert. The chocolate cake here is the best! Right, Patrick?”
“Oh, yeah!” Patrick gushed.
She smiled at them. “Oh, I’m well acquainted with the chocolate cake here. In fact, maybe I’ll skip dinner and go straight to dessert.”
Peter arched an eyebrow. “Can’t recommend that. You don’t want to miss the barbecued ribs.”
Jolene Walsh arrived at last, took a seat next to Peter, and pulled off a pair of leather driving gloves. “Sorry I’m late. The doctor came in right as I was leaving Craig at the hospital. He said Craig’s making good progress and can likely go home on Monday.” Her smile lit her face, pure relief radiating from her every pore. “Craig sends his love to everyone, by the way.” She sent a glowing look around the table to her children and grandson. “So what did I miss?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Lucy chirped. “We were just discussing what to order.” Without any further mention of Damien or the Coltons, Lucy waved to their waitress.
Once their order had been taken, conversation turned to yesterday’s Fall Festival at the school, and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.
“I want everyone to plan on coming to the ranch for our family dinner next Thursday,” Jolene announced, then turned to Lisa. “You’re welcome to come with Peter, dear. We’d love to have you join us.”
Lisa blinked, startled—and flattered—by the invitation. “Oh, well, thank you. I—”
Peter and Patrick both sent her expectant, eager looks.
“Can you, Ms. Navarre? Please?” Patrick asked.
Her gaze shifted to Peter, who lifted a dark eyebrow in query. “No pressure. If it’s too much too fast…”
“I’d love to join you,” Lisa said, facing Jolene. “What can I bring?”
“I have a new recipe for a low-sugar, low-fat pie I want to bring,” Mary interjected.
As the conversation continued, planning the menu for Thanksgiving dinner, Lucy pushed her chair back and rose. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to make a quick trip to the ladies’ room.”
Mary pushed her chair back, too. “Want some company?”
“Sure. Lisa?” Lucy hitched her head, inviting Lisa to follow her.
Mary gave Jake a teasing stern look. “No comments from the peanut gallery about women traveling in packs to the restroom.”
Jake turned up a palm. “What? Did I say anything?”
Mary gave her fiancé a quick kiss and a smile as she stepped away from the table, then hooked her arm in Lisa’s as they fell in step behind Lucy. “I have to tell you, I haven’t seen my brother smiling as much in years as he has been these last couple weeks. I’d bet money you are the reason.”
Lisa felt heat sting her cheeks. “I, uh—”
Lucy came to an abrupt stop in front of them, and Mary and Lisa ran into her.
“You!” Maisie Colton blocked their entry to the women’s restroom, hands on her hips, glaring at Lucy with a venomous snarl. “You have a lot of nerve hitting on my brother like that after what you and your family did to him!”
Lucy fell back a step, clearly startled by the attack. Mary moved up next to Lucy, and Lisa flanked Peter’s sister from the other side, her heart thumping anxiously. Maisie’s infamous volatility worried Lisa. She didn’t want the families to engage in a public brawl.
Lucy raised her chin, and calmly replied, “I didn’t hit on Damien, Maisie. Not that it is any of your business.”
Maisie puffed out her chest and narrowed her eyes. “My brother will always be my business. And I’m warning you to stay away from him! Haven’t you hurt him enough?”
“Come on, Luce.” Mary nudged her sister’s arm. “Ignore her.”
But Lucy squared her shoulders and faced Maisie’s challenging glare. “I have no intention of hurting your brother. For your information, I’m happily engaged and moving on with my life.”
Maisie gave a disgruntled sniff. “Yeah, I heard you were engaged. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.” Her gaze suddenly shifted to Lisa’s. “Be warned, Ms. Navarre. The Walshes are cold-hearted and self-serving. If you were smart, you’d run the other way. Peter may seem like a catch, but he will break your heart. It’s just what the Walshes do.”
Lisa was so stunned by Maisie’s unwanted advice, she didn’t notice Damien’s approach until he loomed over the women with a dark expression. He wrapped a firm hand around his sister’s arm and tugged her away from her confrontational stance in front of Lucy. “Go back to the table, Maisie. You’re out of line.”
Maisie sent her brother a hurt look. “I’m just defending you. You can’t let the Walshes push you around!”
“No one is pushing me around. Don’t hassle Lucy ever again. Understand?” Damien’s tone brooked no resistance.
Maisie stared at her brother as if he’d lost his mind. “Do you not remember what they did to us? The Walshes—”
“Maisie.” The deep resonant voice of Darius Colton interrupted Maisie’s tirade.
Lisa lifted her gaze to the senior Colton who now stood behind Damien. A muscle in Darius’s jaw jumped, and he narrowed a warning stare on his daughter. “Don’t make a scene and embarrass the family.”
Maisie frowned. “But, Daddy—”
“You heard me.” His tone was final.
With an indignant huff, Maisie lifted her nose and stormed back to the Colton’s table. Darius said nothing else before turning and walking away, but Damien divided an uneasy look between Mary, Lucy and Lisa. “I’m sorry about that, ladies.”
“Forget it. Come on, Lucy.” Mary gave Damien a tight, stiffly cordial nod, then wrapped her arm in her sister’s and steered Lucy toward the restroom.
Lisa knew she should follow the Walsh sisters, but the look on Damien’s face gave her pause. The man, for all his gruff posturing, was clearly hurting. He’d had a less-than-warm welcome home from his family, if the rumor mill was correct, and after witnessing the scene between him and Lucy earlier, Lisa felt compelled to say something to him. But what?
Damien Colton’s problems and heartaches weren’t any of her business. But being no stranger to pain and rejection herself, Lisa felt an empathetic tug for him.
“I—” she started then stalled when his jade gaze met hers.
“You’re Lisa Navarre, aren’t you?”<
br />
She gaped at Damien, stunned that he knew her name. “Uh, yes.”
“You teach at the elementary school, right?”
Lisa laughed nervously. “How did you—?”
Damien’s cheek twitched in a quick grin. “My nephew said something earlier when he saw you at the Walshes’ table. You were, apparently, his favorite teacher.”
Lisa’s cheeks heated, and she smiled. “I think pretty highly of Jeremy, too. He’s a bright boy and well-mannered.”
Damien’s expression warmed with obvious affection for his nephew. “Thank you.”
Lisa shifted her feet awkwardly, fully aware of Peter’s hawk-eyed gaze watching her exchange with the ex-con.
Sticking his hands in his back pockets, Damien angled his head and gave Lisa a speculative look. “I know what Peter’s probably telling you about my family.”
Lisa’s heart thudded. She didn’t want to be drawn into this conversation…
“I know there is no love lost between your families.”
“Yeah. You could say that. But…” He paused, glancing away, as if looking for the right words. As he brought his gaze back to her, Damien did a double take. His attention snagged on someone at the front door, and though he tried to cover his distraction, Lisa didn’t miss the obvious signs of male interest in the lift of his brow and widening of his pupils. She turned to see who had caught Damien’s eye.
Eve Kelley, looking especially radiant with her hair upswept and wearing a high-waisted blue dress that complemented her coloring, stood by the hostess desk waiting to be seated.
Lisa hid the grin that tugged her lips. “That’s Eve Kelley. She owns Salon Allegra. Would you like me to introduce you?”
“Huh. Oh, no, I—” Damien rolled his muscled shoulders and furrowed his brow, as if embarrassed to have been caught ogling the blond beauty. “I remember her. She was in Perry’s class. Cheerleader. Beauty queen. Miss Popular.” He shook his head. “Not my type.” He clenched his back teeth, his jaw tensing. “Anyway, just remember there are two sides to every story. Anything Peter tells you about my family is only half the picture.”
That Damien would defend his family to her, be concerned about her perception of the Coltons—especially in light of what she’d heard through the grapevine about the family’s strained relationship with Damien when he went to prison—only bolstered her instincts about the brooding man. Despite the gruff persona he projected, she sensed the wounded soul behind the dark scowl and shadowed eyes. And her heart went out to him.
She held his gaze and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Damien. It was nice to meet you.”
He jerked a nod, then headed back to his table just as Lucy and Mary emerged from the restroom.
Mary gave her a concerned look. “More trouble?”
“No, we were…talking about his nephew. I taught Jeremy and…” Lisa shrugged and let her sentence trail off.
“We’ll wait for you if you still need the facilities.” Lucy hitched her thumb over her shoulder toward the bathroom door.
“Naw. I’m good, and—” she glanced back at their table “—it looks like our dinner has arrived.”
Peter stood as she approached and pulled out her chair. “Should I be jealous of your heart-to-heart with Damien?”
She smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. “Not at all.”
Though she could tell he wanted more explanation of what she’d discussed with the ex-con, she said nothing else.
The rest of their dinner passed uneventfully. Despite the drama that had started the evening, the Walshes shared a sumptuous meal, laughed over stories they told on each other, and made plans for a family Thanksgiving. Being included in the family’s camaraderie filled an empty place in Lisa’s heart that had been languishing in the years since her divorce. But her inclusion in the Walsh family plans was bittersweet. As much as she craved the connections of a large family, the evening only demonstrated to her how much Peter loved his family, needed his family, deserved to have the family she couldn’t give him.
Last night, she’d promised Peter she’d give their relationship a chance. Yet the closer she got to Peter and his family, the clearer it became to her that she was headed to another heartache. She simply couldn’t give Peter the kind of relationship he deserved.
Chapter 12
M onday morning, Peter finished up a case report earlier than he’d expected and found himself downtown with time on his hands before he was due to meet with a new client. He sat in his truck, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel and considering the best use of his time.
He wished he could surprise Patrick by stopping by the school for lunch but the class didn’t break for lunch for another hour.
Peter smiled, remembering the family dinner at Kelley’s Cookhouse the night before. Lisa had fitted right in with his sisters and mother. And they seemed to like her, going so far as to make plans for shopping on Black Friday together. He’d gotten a chance to get to know Jake Pierson better and knew the former FBI agent was a good match for his sister. Jake would keep Mary safe.
The evening had been nearly perfect. Nearly. Peter gritted his teeth, remembering Damien Colton’s glowering indignation and Maisie’s repeat performance, confronting Mary, Lucy and Lisa. The Coltons were like a bad rash, a constant source of irritation. Some days, Peter just wanted to meet the Colton clan in the center of town and have an old-fashioned duel. The town just didn’t seem big enough for both families. Something had to give.
Peter cranked his engine, which sputtered to life, protesting the Montana cold. Without conscious decision, he headed for the sheriff’s office. Two weeks had passed since he’d last confronted Wes Colton, and he hadn’t seen any hint of progress in the investigation in that time. Nothing in the Honey Creek Gazette. No calls from the sheriff’s office. Zilch.
Acid churned in Peter’s gut as he parked in front of the redbrick building that housed the sheriff’s office. He recognized Wes Colton’s vehicle in the lot, telling him the sheriff should be in his office.
He strode inside and approached the receptionist’s desk. “I want to see the sheriff.”
The female officer looked up, clearly recognized him and hesitated before paging her boss’s office. “Sheriff Colton, Peter Walsh is here to see you.”
Wes didn’t reply for several seconds. Finally a mumbled curse word filtered through the intercom, followed by a grudging, “Send him back.”
The sheriff was on his feet behind his desk when Peter entered his office.
“Morning, Peter. What can I do for you?” he said with strained civility.
Peter braced his feet and squared his shoulders. “I still haven’t heard anything from you about the investigations into my father’s murder or Craig Warner’s poisoning. I can only assume that means nothing’s being done, no progress is being made.”
Wes gave him a patronizing grin. “You’d be wrong. I’m not required to report my findings to you or anyone until my case is wrapped up. So don’t assume my silence indicates anything other than the facts of the case are a police matter and not for public consumption.”
“I’m family of the victim.” Peter jabbed Wes’s desk with a finger.
“Which makes you a possible suspect.”
Peter gaped at the sheriff. “You’ve got to be kidding. My alibi was confirmed months ago.”
Wes shrugged. “I’m still not discussing the case with you.”
“I have a right to know what’s happening!”
“I disagree.”
Peter clenched his back teeth and swallowed the retort on his lips. Clearly getting into the same argument with Wes wouldn’t get him anywhere. He thought a moment and decided on a surprise attack.
“Who fathered Maisie’s son?”
Wes blinked. Frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Who is Jeremy’s father? There is no name listed on his birth certificate.”
Wes tensed and drew himself taller. “How did you get a copy of Jeremy’s bi
rth certificate?”
“I’m a private investigator. I have resources, tricks to get around red tape.”
“If you’ve done something illegal—”
“You’ll never prove it.” Peter braced his hands on the sheriff’s desk and leaned toward him. “Answer my question. Who is Jeremy’s father?”
Wes hesitated. “Maisie would never say.”
“Why did she leave town so abruptly back in 1995, right after my dad disappeared?”
Wes scowled and folded his arms over his chest. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“The obvious answer is because she was hiding her pregnancy to avoid scandal. But when she returned with a son in tow, she kinda blew that cover, didn’t she?”
The sheriff sighed wearily. “What’s your point Walsh?”
“I think your sister had an affair with my father that went sour.” Peter smiled his satisfaction when the color drained from Wes’s face. “I think Jeremy is Mark Walsh’s son, and that your sister killed him to keep her secret a secret. Or out of revenge for his dumping her.”
Wes twisted his mouth in a dismissive frown. “That’s insane. My sister is brash and confrontational, but she’s not a killer.”
“You sure about that? She’s been rather vocal around town, saying how glad she is that my dad is gone and that he got what he deserved.”
The sheriff lifted a hand in concession. “Not particularly discreet of her, I admit. But I know my sister. She’s not a killer.”
“Does she have an alibi for the time of my father’s death?”
Wes dragged a hand down his cheek. “I’m doing my job, Walsh. I don’t need you to back-seat drive.”
Peter aimed a finger at Wes. “You do if you are driving with blinders on concerning your family. They should be at the top of your suspect list.”
Wes drew in a deep breath and blew it out, his jaw tense. “So you’ve said. Your five minutes with me are up. Goodbye, Peter.”
The sheriff sat down behind his desk, flipped open a file and bent over it, signaling an end to the discussion.
Peter didn’t budge. “At least tell me what direction you’re going with the case. Who are you investigating? What are your leads? God, give me something!”
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