Thinking about having a daughter, Harper’s daughter, didn’t bear thinking about, either. No matter how much that might complete him in his imaginary life—the life where everything and everyone was ideal, perfect, idyllic—it didn’t fit with the real world.
Because of Bruce. He and his brother had met again the night before. Late. Bruce had been out on the job and then called Mason, telling him he had something to show him.
His brother had turned up after midnight at the designated bar, carrying a flash drive. He said he hadn’t thought to look at it before, certain that Gram had fallen off her stepladder, just like she’d said. The ladder had been in the kitchen when he returned home. And Gram never lied.
To Bruce it had been an accident, plain and simple. In his opinion, the real problem was keeping Gram safe from herself—and from the effects of aging.
The flash drive had been from a hidden security camera Bruce had installed outside their home. Made sense, with him being a cop—even more sense in case his cover was ever blown. It was the kind he could watch from his phone so he’d know if there was anyone lurking around when he wasn’t there to protect Gram.
He’d had a few inside the house, too, for the same reason. So he’d know if Gram ever fell or needed help when he wasn’t there.
That had made sense, too. As Bruce had said, accidents could happen at any time and if Gram couldn’t get to a phone, who would know?
An alert on his phone could just save her life.
Gram had found the inside cameras and, when she’d objected to them, telling Bruce they were an invasion of her privacy, he’d taken them out. She hadn’t been aware of the one outside. When he was off duty, or Miriam wasn’t home, Bruce didn’t keep the app live with notices because his phone would go into alert mode every time the wind blew. He hadn’t bothered to check the app.
Until after his talk with Mason. When, for the first time, he started to believe that Gram really had been abused.
The flash drive showed Elmer Guthrie walking up Gram’s drive less than five minutes after Bruce had left that Monday evening. The evening of her “accident.” And it showed him leaving again just before Gram’s car pulled out of the drive. Presumably on her way to urgent care.
That was enough to get him the warrant to question Elmer at his home. He’d do it as soon as he’d delivered Grace back home.
“You ever hear Gram mention an Elmer Guthrie?” The SUV was on cruise control. GPS said they had an hour and a half until they were at The Lemonade Stand.
“No. Who is he?” Grace’s fingers stilled as she studied him and he gave her a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road, shaking his head.
“You’ll need to ask her.”
Silence fell again. Mason turned on a classical music station, thinking she’d like it, his thoughts once again on his brother. People all had different perspectives, based on how they saw the world, how they perceived events that happened, their belief systems, their upbringings. Maybe Bruce really did see things as he said they were. Maybe his versions of the truth weren’t deliberately misleading or manipulative reframing for self-gain.
Could be he was just a bit needy when it came to those he loved, never fully believing they’d love him back, or as much as he loved them. Mason wasn’t a shrink, but he knew enough to figure that Bruce’s behavior, his reframing of certain truths, could be how he really saw the world.
Mason had listened to enough confessions in interrogation rooms to understand how people’s minds could play with them. And now Bruce might have to hear that he wasn’t Brianna’s father. Mason could only imagine what that kind of blow would do to the guy.
Unless... Bruce didn’t have to know. Did he?
Except that if Mason was Brianna’s father, the child had a right to know. At least when she was old enough for it to matter. At a minimum, Mason was going to be financially responsible for her. That much had already been decided, he reminded himself.
And what about Harper? Did anyone ever consider what she needed? What was best for her? She’d never given any indication of how she’d feel if he was the father of her child.
She’d never said a word to suggest that some part of her would be glad. Or that she had any regard for him at all. If you discounted the silent messages passing between them the night they’d been at the bar near her home. And, again, when they’d worked out together.
He had a strong sense that she wanted him.
Was he, like his brother, reframing the world to fit his own self-image? Thinking Harper wanted him because he wanted her? And even if it was true...he couldn’t start anything with her, make his little brother watch them together.
But God, he wanted her! Worse than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
So, if minds conjured up their own perceptions, what about the whole Gram thing? Had he been so quick to jump on Bruce as the guilty party because some part of him needed to find fault with his brother, so he wouldn’t have to feel bad about wanting his brother’s wife?
Ex-wife.
Could it be possible that Mason was far more disloyal than he’d realized?
“You ever ask Gram to go skydiving with you?” The question burst into the silence as Mason, desperate to get his mind under control, focused on the woman at his side, on the reason they were together.
Elmer on a camera was circumstantial evidence. They were going to need more than that to convince the court to take any action against him, any action to protect Gram. Mason knew he was a pretty damned good interrogator, showing his suspects the pieces of the puzzle and how they all fit together, but he couldn’t count on the older man to confess what he’d done.
Gram wasn’t talking, but even Mason knew that if anyone could get through to Gram, it would be Grace. Her longtime best friend. While Gram was away from whatever influence had turned her against Grace to begin with.
Why Elmer would have cause to do that remained to be seen. Could be as simple as Gram not wanting anyone to know that she’d fallen prey to someone’s abuse; from what he’d gleaned that week, shame and self-blame were common reasons a victim didn’t speak out. Gram had always prided herself on being a strong, independent woman...
Grace hadn’t answered. She was staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“That last time she and I talked... I told her about a woman who’d gone skydiving for her ninetieth birthday. She accused me of trying to convince her to do things she didn’t feel comfortable doing.”
Because someone else was trying to convince her to do things she felt uncomfortable doing? Elmer Guthrie, for instance?
“I thought at the time that she was just picking a fight with me, you know, because I’d put too much pressure on her about how Bruce was mistreating her.” Grace paused again, her fingers and the puff of yarn still in her lap. “I blame myself,” she said softly. “I know Miriam better than anyone. Love her as much as I’ve ever loved anyone. If she was already being pressured, I should’ve been the one who was supportive and understanding—not doing the exact same thing to her.”
Words telling her not to blame herself on the tip of his tongue, Mason didn’t get a chance to speak before she continued.
“It’s just... Miriam and I...we could always say what’s on our minds. We’re both kind of bossy women, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He grinned at that.
“Strong and independent,” she went on. “We like things done our way. I just never... I should’ve known...”
“How could you have known? None of us did.”
“But... I should’ve been there for her.”
“You’re here for her now.”
“Does she know I’m coming?” Grace hadn’t asked when he’d issued the invitation.
“Yes.” He could feel the older woman’s gaze on him. “If you want my opinion, and it’s only my opinion,
I think she really wants to see you. She hardly argued at all when I made the suggestion.”
“She didn’t argue?”
“Not much. She did have a stipulation, though.” He glanced at her, saw her frown.
“What is it? Not that I care. I’d run barefoot on hot tar at this point if it would help her.”
“Don’t mention skydiving.”
“Seriously?” Grace’s mouth hung open. “Seriously?” She started in with the yarn and fingers again. “I need to have a talk with that woman.”
Exactly what he’d been hoping for.
* * *
HARPER WAS WAITING for Mason Saturday morning. They’d planned that he’d drop Grace off in the family visiting room and then come back to her office while the two women had their visit. Miriam’s guard would be close by, but she’d been told to give them as much privacy as she could while still doing her job.
After some morning delays at the the Stand, they’d finally settled on a ten o’clock meeting for the ladies. She’d expected him at 10:05. She was in uniform, of course, since she was working, but had put on eyeliner and sprayed her hair so it looked the way her hairdresser had meant it to. Sitting behind her desk, she’d unfastened the top button on her shirt, thinking...she didn’t know what...but refastened it immediately.
A cop didn’t disgrace the uniform on duty. And she had no reason whatsoever to appear more feminine to Mason.
She’d been okay until the point she’d taken Brianna to day care; she’d kept herself firmly in check, focusing on what mattered most. Brianna’s well-being. Her own job. Having a workable relationship with Bruce—for Brianna’s well-being. She’d even managed a decent night’s sleep, reminding herself every time she woke up that all would be as it was meant to be and then falling back asleep. But standing in the doorway of the day care, wondering if, when she picked up her daughter that evening, Brie would have a different father, she’d come undone.
That had been fifteen minutes of undoneness. It was ten after ten now. Where the hell was he?
He’d indicated he had some things to discuss with her. After her phone call from Bruce that morning, she knew she had something to discuss with him, too.
From what Bruce had said, and Mason’s comment the night before had alluded to it, Miriam’s case might be wrapped up soon. At least they had a solid perp now. It depended on how quickly Mason could put enough evidence together to do something about it.
It could just be a matter of Grace somehow breaking through to Miriam. Getting her to testify as to who’d hurt her; that would be all it took. Mason could leave and...
He might be the father of her child.
Bruce had sounded so good that morning, telling her Mason had told him he’d questioned her about the case. She could hear the swelling of emotion in his tone as he’d told her his brother had mentioned how loyal she’d been to Bruce, certain that he hadn’t hurt Miriam. He’d thanked her.
Told her he loved her.
How much was he going to love her if he found out that she’d assisted Mason with a paternity test and Mason was Brie’s father?
Panic seized her and she stood, needing out with nowhere to go. Mason could be there any minute. She had to get hold of herself. Be the in-control adult woman she knew herself to be.
Disallow the drama that would take control if she was weak enough, or foolish enough, to let it.
Nodding, she raised a hand to her chest, fingers checking her top button just to make sure she’d refastened it. That her collar was straight.
The DNA test was going to prove that Bruce was Brianna’s father. Miriam would go home. Mason would go back to his life. Her life and Brianna’s would continue as they were, with perhaps a little more genuine warmth between Harper and Bruce.
End of story.
Mason knocked once. Waited for her to admit him. She headed toward the door, to open it. Stopped. That would have her toe to toe with him for a second at least. Their eyes would meet up close and... She returned to the chair behind her desk as she’d originally planned, hiding her shaking hands by keeping them below the desktop and plastering a work-face smile on her lips.
“Come in,” she called when she was ready.
He’d been running his fingers through his hair. Short as it was, she shouldn’t have been able to tell, but she remembered, far too clearly, how it had looked that night when she’d run her own fingers along his scalp. Many, many times.
In light-colored pants and a short-sleeved olive green shirt he seemed ready for vacation. Or to go on a date.
No, he was in normal Mason work attire.
“How’d it go?” she asked him as he took a seat, as though Grace and Miriam were the only things on her mind. As they should’ve been.
“Good, actually,” he said. His grin warmed her private places.
She couldn’t tell anyone that. Ever.
“There was a long moment when they stood there looking at each other, neither one of them saying anything, and then, just as I was getting ready to take them both by the hand and guide them to the same table, they were walking toward each other and hugging.”
He was still grinning.
Mason happy was an unexpected aphrodisiac. Something she’d only seen briefly...that night, of course, in his bed.
The couple of times she’d met him before that night, he’d never seemed happy. She hadn’t really considered that before. Another thought to file away.
“So, you think Grace will be able to get through to her?”
“I think they’re going to be friends again and that’s what Gram needs more than anything right now.”
She agreed. But they had to find a way to keep her safe so she could go home again.
And life could return to normal.
She sat there, blinking as the thoughts ran through her mind. When had she ever wanted the status quo as a permanent life?
When had she started to feel grateful for it?
“I talked to Bruce this morning.” She’d meant to wait until after he’d said whatever he’d come to tell her. Till he’d had his say. She’d meant to see what, or how much, he was going to tell her. She’d barely made it past hello.
“He called,” she said, when Mason’s eyes narrowed.
He waited without speaking. She tried to read him, but got nothing. Except that she wanted to feel those arms around her again. Those lips against her. Him inside her.
But mostly, just to feel his arms around her right then. Like she was some needy woman who had to be comforted? she asked herself in disgust. Who needed a man to help her feel secure?
She knew that was hogwash. Even on that long-ago night, being with him hadn’t been about being taken care of. Or security.
It had been lust, pure and simple.
Okay, maybe more than lust. And maybe not so pure or simple. But the last thing she’d felt was that she needed any kind of protection. She’d wanted him to take care of her, all right. Just as she’d wanted to take care of him. In a way that brought both of them satisfaction.
“He told me the two of you are working together now. That he has a tape that showed an older male neighbor visiting Miriam after he’d left that night. The night she ended up in urgent care. I’m assuming that’s the second suspect you mentioned?”
Elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face, he continued to watch her. And bowed his head once in acknowledgment.
He seemed to be closing himself off, so she pressed him. “Is he right about that?”
“I wasn’t going to mention details,” he said. “I don’t want this investigation to be tarnished in any way.”
“I’m not just a witness, I’m a family member,” she said. “My young daughter is in that home with Miriam, or was, on a regular basis.” She knew she sounded defensive. And maybe she was. Because she wanted Mason t
o trust her the way Bruce did.
No. No, that wasn’t right.
Was it?
It felt right.
She wanted Mason to regard her with as much...confidence as Bruce did. Wanted him to know she’d have his back, too.
“I agreed to the paternity test without any argument at all.” She hadn’t decided to say the words aloud. They just happened.
Dropping his hands to his knees, Mason’s entire demeanor changed. The assessing look softened. “I’m not following you. Did you tell Bruce about it? Did he say something I need to know about?”
“No!” Of course she hadn’t told Bruce. She was praying that when she did talk to him, it would be with good news. Or that she and Mason would agree not to ever tell him—although she hadn’t quite worked out the logistics of that, figuring in Brianna’s eventual right to know.
“I didn’t tell him,” she said. “I just...want you to realize you can trust me. That I play things straight. I didn’t think Bruce had hurt Miriam so I told you that, but if I’d thought for one second he had, I’d tell you that, too.”
Bruce had been so moved by her loyalty. His emotion, rather than softening her toward him as it usually did, had cramped her. She hadn’t really been loyal. She’d simply told the truth. Or some of it...
The light in Mason’s eyes had her looking for his grin again. It didn’t appear. But she felt better.
“You asked for a paternity test. Granting it was the right thing to do.”
She hoped that was true. That she hadn’t just given in because she was in love with him...
Oh. God, help her.
She hadn’t just...
She was a straight shooter.
Was she in love with Mason Thomas?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STARING AT MASON, feeling her world darken and close in on her, Harper couldn’t immediately deny the possibility that she was in love with him.
“Yes, the neighbor is a suspect.” He chose that second to finally address her initial query regarding Bruce’s accuracy about the case. It felt as if hours had passed since then.
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