Hard To Handle

by Kylie Brant

  But she wasn’t dealing with Wadrell here, she was dealing with Gabe. And thoughts of the man muddied the waters. She knew he was trustworthy up to a point. She could expect him to be up-front with her and not try to hide his motives. But things could happen that were outside of his control. She wouldn’t trust him with Danny’s ability; it wasn’t her secret to share, at any rate.

  Aware that Raina was awaiting her answer, she finally said, “I know he would do what he could. But that may not be enough and I can’t take that chance, can I?”

  “It sounds as though you have made up your mind.”

  “I have.” Meghan stared at the corner where her nephew was busily drawing. “I’ll tell Gabe we’ve decided not to let Danny cooperate.”

  An hour later Meghan opened the door to the apartment and Danny ran by her. “Time for…Pokémon!” Grasping the remote, Danny scrambled up on the couch and turned on his favorite show.

  “How about time to hang up your coat?” she inquired, amused. On Callie’s advice, she limited her nephew’s TV watching to an hour a day, and he tended to take advantage of every minute of it.

  Without removing his gaze from the TV screen, Danny dropped his school bag and shrugged out of his coat. He looked at the TV and then the closet, clearly torn.

  Taking pity on him, Meghan said, “I’ll hang it for you this time.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Meggie.”

  By the time she’d turned back to her nephew he was staring raptly at the television set again. Meghan followed his gaze with her own, wondering, not for the first time, what magic the show had that transfixed a five-year-old boy. Its power was lost on her. “Did you bring home a note from your teacher today?”

  Her only answer was a head shake.

  Half-amused she asked, “How about papers? Did you bring home any of your work to show me?” Her question warranted a distracted nod. “Shall I get them out of your bag for you?” Another nod. It appeared that nothing short of a natural disaster could divert the boy’s attention.

  Crossing to the couch, she sat down beside him, reached for his bag and unzipped it. They’d worked out something of a routine in the short time they’d lived together. Ordinarily Danny insisted on emptying his bag himself, presenting each of his papers with the gravity of a master exhibiting a finished piece of art.

  Meghan drew the papers out of the bag and looked at them one by one. She paused at Danny’s rendering of a dinosaur. For the last week he’d chosen to paint dinosaurs at school as a not-so-subtle hint about his birthday present. Although Meghan continued to play noncommittal, she’d already bought and wrapped the two dinosaurs the boy had his heart set on. They were safely tucked away in her bedroom closet.

  She tipped the bag upside down to be certain she’d taken out everything. A boy’s treasures, she’d found, weren’t limited to papers from school. Hearing a rattle she uprighted the bag, peered inside. When she found that pocket empty she unzipped the others until she discovered what had caused the sound.

  “What’s this key go to?”

  Danny’s head whipped around and he stared at the key in her hand, eyes wide. His lips began to quiver, but he squared his chin with an effort and didn’t say a word.

  More than a little concerned about his reaction, Meghan asked, “Did you find it? Someone may be looking for it.” There was adhesive tape wrapped around the top, with the number 498 written on it. “Although I’m not sure what it could go to,” she mused. “It’s too big for a suitcase, not the right shape for a car…” Her words broke off when she saw the huge tears welling in the boy’s eyes.

  “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about.” There was a tinge of panic in her voice. Her nephew’s tears were increasingly infrequent, and never failed to make her feel inadequate.

  “If you found it at school we can just turn it in to the lost and found there.”

  “It’s the secret.”

  The thin thread of desperation that ran through her nephew’s voice had Meghan reaching over for the remote and clicking off the TV. It was a measure of Danny’s upset that he didn’t seem to notice. With an effort at calm she said, “Tell me about the secret.”

  The boy cast his gaze downward. If possible his voice got even lower. “I was supposed to give it to you, but I didn’t. Mom told me the secret and then she got dead.” When his gaze raised to hers again it was filled with such heart-wrenching despair that it squeezed her heart. “I don’t want you to get dead, too, Aunt Meggie.”

  A sense of foreboding settled in her chest. She was about to reassure the boy, but the words went unuttered. Danny deserved more than empty assurances. She asked the next question, more than a little certain that she wouldn’t like the answer. “When did your mom give you this?”

  He shrugged miserably. His concept of time, she knew, centered on school days and cartoon days. “Was it after I came to your apartment? When we met for the first time?” A slow solemn nod was her answer. “How long…” She drew in a breath and forced the words out. “How many cartoon days did you have it before you came to live with me?”

  “We went shopping on cartoon day and I got a new bag.”

  Meghan handed the now-empty bag to the boy, and he hugged it fiercely to his chest. “Mom put the key in it at night, before I went to bed. She said to give it to you if I saw you again. She said it was a secret. I hate secrets! I hate them!” The boy’s voice rose a little wildly. “Put the key back, Aunt Meggie!”

  His obvious agitation melted her reserve the way nothing else could have. She moved over and put her arms around the boy, feeling the trembling that was shaking his rigid body. “Shh,” she whispered. Unconsciously her body began to sway in a rocking motion. From the boy’s description she guessed that Sandra had given him the key about a week after she’d last seen her sister. “That key can’t hurt anyone. And once we all know the secret we’ll know what your mom was thinking when she gave it to you, won’t we?”

  “We could throw it away.” The words were muffled against her chest.

  “I think you realize we can’t do that. But I can promise you that I’ll take care of it. And whatever the secret is, I won’t let anything hurt you.” The words were uttered to soothe. She surprised herself by the conviction in them. She had a bond of responsibility with this boy. And she had the same sort of bond with Sandra. She owed it to both of them to lay all the secrets to rest. No matter what they were.

  Danny heard the tone in his aunt’s voice but didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The bad feeling had started as soon as his mom had dropped the key in his bag. It came back every time he thought about it being in there. Thought about how he hadn’t told Aunt Meggie the secret like his mom had said to. Fiercely he willed himself to believe his aunt’s words. He wanted to. He wondered if the bad feeling would leave once she found out the secret. But somehow he didn’t think so.

  “Can you blow it up any more?”

  Stan Vandevanter, the police technician, shrugged at Gabe’s question. “I can, but with every enlargement the picture will get grainier. This was the biggest I could make it without losing clarity. See what happens here?” The man tapped a command into the computer, and the picture enlarged again. As the man had warned, it became noticeably less detailed.

  Gabe took another moment to study the reproduction of the first of the pictures he’d taken from Meghan before glancing at Cal. At his quizzical look, his partner shook his head. “Nothing’s jumping out at me.”

  “Let’s see the next one.”

  Obligingly Stan tacked up the enlargement of the second photo. Gabe squinted at it. Where the first had been taken of Sandra and Danny on a crowded street, this one had been taken in a park. Sandra was seated on a park bench, looking at a newspaper. It would be difficult to say whether she or Danny had been the focus of the picture. The boy was standing next to the bench, blowing bubbles. A smile pulled at the corner of Gabe’s mouth. Danny’s face was a study in concentration. It reminded him of the night the boy had asked him for a bedtime sto
ry and he’d told him about trains. For several minutes he’d fought sleep with just that same fierce concentration, as if to hear every word Gabe had uttered. It had been a novel experience to be the focus of that intense regard.

  Stan brought the last of the pictures to the screen, and without waiting to be asked, began to enlarge it. “Wait!” Interest suddenly heightened, Gabe leaned forward. “Can you zoom in right here and enlarge this part?” He tapped a finger against the foreground.

  “No problem.” The technician moved the mouse to the area the detective had indicated and clicked several times until Gabe halted him. “Okay, right there.” He tilted his head. “Tell me what you see, Cal.”

  His partner peered more closely at the picture. “I can’t be sure. I’d have to compare it to the other one.”

  “Bring the first picture back,” Gabe ordered. A buzz of adrenaline was humming through his veins, the feeling he got when pieces of a case were dropping into place. They leaned in to study the picture that filled the screen again.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Cal muttered. “Let’s see a closer shot.”

  “Zoom in here.” Gabe indicated a spot in the crowd behind Sandra and Danny.

  “Want a comparison shot?” Without waiting for the detectives’ assent Stan brought a boxed-in likeness of the enlarged sections of both photos and arranged them side by side on the computer screen.

  “I’ll be damned,” breathed Gabe. Through computer enhancement they were able to clearly see parts of the foregrounds that had lacked clarity before. And in two of the pictures, the same man could be seen standing a distance away from Sandra.

  “What are the chances that the same guy would just happen to be hanging around while pictures are being shot of Barton and her kid?”

  “Somewhere between slim and none,” Cal replied. “It doesn’t look like Barton was aware these pictures were being taken. But something tells me this guy knew.” He pointed at the screen.

  “Yeah. Now all we have to do is figure out why.” Gabe’s voice was grim. There was no longer any doubt that the intruder at the storage compartment had had more than a passing interest in the rest of these pictures. Someone knew he’d shown up in these photos and had been desperate to recover them.

  “Can you get us a hard copy of that close-up?” he asked Stan. The man nodded and tapped a command into the computer. A moment later the printer was spitting out a color photo. Gabe snatched it. “Thanks, Stan. C’mon, Cal. Let’s see if we’ve got a pinup of this guy.”

  The tedium of the next two hours paid off when Gabe whistled softly. “Hello. I’ve got a match.”

  Cal abruptly shut the book of mug shots he was looking at and rounded the desk to peer over Gabe’s shoulder. “Looks like him. Shadrach Collins. Let’s see what we can find out about our friend in the database.”

  Gabe deferred to his partner’s superior ability on the computer. “Oh, he’s been busy, hasn’t he?” he murmured, leaning over Cal’s shoulder to read the man’s rap sheet.

  “Well, well. What’s this?”

  “He’s been flagged,” Gabe murmured. “Not surprising that some other CEO has taken an interest, with this guy’s record.”

  Cal scrolled down to the bottom of the screen, and a name jumped out at Gabe. “Wadrell. What’d he want this guy for?”

  “I don’t know. But there are getting to be way too many connections from his last case to ours, don’t you think?”

  The clerk interrupted before Gabe could answer. “Detective Connally, call on line two.”

  Reluctantly Gabe turned from the computer to cross to his desk. His mind still on their findings, his voice was brusque when he answered. “Detective Connally.”

  The female on the other end of the line had his attention within the first few words. His expression growing grimmer, he listened for a moment more then said, “You did the right thing to call me. I’ll take care of it.”

  He returned the receiver to the hook and turned back to his partner.

  “Trouble?” Cal inquired.

  “Maybe.” He reached over to grab his jacket. “I think Meghan might be closing in on another piece of the puzzle regarding her sister. And I’m going to make damn sure I’m there when she finds it.”

  The key didn’t fit. Meghan let out the breath she’d been holding and stepped away from the locker in the train station. The pounding of her heart quieted. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that she may well have sent herself on a wild-goose chase. But she was no amateur sleuth. A transit locker had seemed the most obvious solution. The key didn’t look as if it would fit a suitcase, car or door. And whatever it did unlock would have to be something she’d have access to. Something Sandra knew she could find with little effort.

  It was significant that her first inclination after she’d quieted Danny’s fears was to call Gabe. She dismissed the thought just as quickly. There was no way of knowing what, if anything, she’d find. But if she did discover something she wanted to view it free of a cop’s eyes, a cop’s reaction.

  And she couldn’t take the chance that whatever she found might allude to Danny’s gift. She had to protect his secret at all costs. Even from Gabe. Especially from Gabe.

  Turning away from the row of lockers, she headed back toward the double front doors and the parking lot beyond. It was too early to contemplate failure. Similar lockers could be found at the bus depot, as well as in some subway stations. Her head down as she contemplated the possibilities, she almost ran into the man who stepped in front of her.

  “Planning a trip?”

  Dismay sank like a brick in her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

  Gabe gave her a humorless smile. “I asked you first.” With a nudge he got her moving again. “I got a call from your friend, Callie. Said she was having a difficult time getting your nephew calmed down. That you’d told her you’d gone out to buy him a birthday present, but he keeps talking about a bad secret that was going to hurt you. Something you were trying to find of his mother’s.” He lifted his head and scanned the crowd before ushering her out through the doors and outside.

  Her throat went dry and she forced a shrug. “Kids can be dramatic.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Although his manner was easy enough, there was a tightness to his mouth that warned of a simmering temper. “Your nephew kept telling Callie that you took the key to the trains. For future reference you might consider that if you can’t even deceive a little kid, you probably ought to give it up. You’re not too good at it.”

  She was, she thought miserably, much better than he could have guessed. And she was fiercely glad that he’d concluded Danny’s accurate guess of her location came from her poor acting skills. Her palms dampened as she realized that the boy had managed to focus on her across the city and come up with hints of her whereabouts.

  The familiar tightness was in her chest, the same feeling she’d always had when Sandra had carelessly plucked one of her carefully guarded thoughts and exposed it for the perusal of those around her. The accompanying feelings of violation, vulnerability.

  But how, she wondered, as Gabe fairly dragged her in his wake, did she come to terms with those feelings regarding a five-year-old boy? He tried so hard to live the lessons Raina taught him, and the effort almost broke her heart. Somehow she knew it had been fear that had motivated him this time, just as it had been preoccupation that had lowered her customary guard, allowing it.

  She looked up when they stopped, and frowned. “My car is across the lot.”

  “Tough. You’re riding with me.”

  His high-handed manner had her narrowing her eyes at him. “No, I’m not.”

  His gaze met hers, hard and unyielding. “Where’s the key, Meghan? Good idea to check transit lockers first. That’s what I would have recommended myself.”

  She ignored the little flare of pride his words inspired. Under the circumstances, it was ridiculous. She’d be better off spending her time planning how she could shake Gabe, if and when they
found what Sandra had left. Something told her that would require more than a little ingenuity.

  They got in his car, and Gabe glanced at her across the front seat. Rarely had he seen Meghan this anxious. Although she was striving not to show it, nerves were hovering just below her mask of calmness. Her fingers twisted in her lap. And clutched in those fingers was the key.

  “Maybe we’re on the wrong track altogether.” He heard the thread of hope in her voice.

  “We’ll check the bus depot next.” Uncustomarily, Gabe kept his gaze firmly on the road as he spoke. There was something about the worry stamped on her pale face that evoked a deeply protective response. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by it. There was too much at stake to compromise his objectivity. And the admission that his objectivity was an issue was an uncomfortable realization better dealt with another time.

  With effort he forced his mind back to their conversation. “Some of the subway stations may have lockers, too. I’d have to contact the Transit Department to figure out which ones. But I think we’re on the right path. The key doesn’t go to anything you found in her apartment, does it?” He felt, rather than saw, the shake of her head. “And it doesn’t look like any safety deposit key I’ve ever seen.”

  He pulled into the parking lot for the bus depot and found a spot to park. Even after he’d switched off the ignition of the car, Meghan sat, taut with apprehension. He waited with uncustomary patience.

  “I’m starting to think that we’d be better off not knowing what Sandra left behind,” she burst out. The key was clutched so tightly in her hand that her palm would surely be branded with its imprint. “When we were growing up, my sister’s ‘surprises’ were most often unpleasant.” Her gaze flew to his, guilt and remorse mingled in it. “I know that sounded incredibly self-centered.”

  Because he felt an unusual urge to soothe, he covered her hands with one of his, stilling their movement. “Times like these, I guess you’re entitled.”