by Pat Warren
He looked into her eyes. “How long have you and Josh lived here with Maggie?”
“On and off, we’ve lived here several different times.”
Evasive. “When did you return this time?”
“A couple of months ago.”
He held out the page with her name on it. “And she had no address or phone number for you when you weren’t living here?”
She was determined not to look away from those searing gray eyes. “We moved around a lot. I checked in with Maggie by phone.”
Why did they move around a lot? Why wasn’t she telling him everything? No matter, Nick thought, closing the book and handing it back. She would in time. He was a patient man.
“All right,” he said, checking his watch. “It’s time to go. Call Josh.”
Tate stood, her eyes wide and suddenly suspicious. “Go? Where? Are you…arresting us?”
Nick raised a puzzled brow. “Arresting you? For what? No, I’m taking you to dinner.”
She felt like flopping back in the chair as relief flooded her, but she tried to make light of it, as if she’d been kidding. “Oh, right. Thanks, but I think you’ve done enough for us already.”
“Look, you’ve got to eat and I’ve got to eat. It’s nearly six and Josh is probably hungry. Why don’t we eat together?” Which would give him an opportunity to talk with the boy if only the mother would drop her guard a fraction.
Tate was sure Josh was getting hungry since his bag lunch at the zoo had been eaten around eleven. And, truth to tell, she didn’t feel like cooking tonight or even like hanging around this house with all its mysterious shadows. “All right, but we pay our own way.”
“Let’s fight about that later. Go get your son and I’ll make sure the locksmith’s finished.” Nick went to the kitchen and shrugged into his jacket before walking out onto the porch, thinking that Tate Monroe had to be the most distrustful woman he’d met in a very long time.
And the most desirable.
Chapter 2
They were both too subdued, Nick thought as he drove along. Buckled into the passenger seat of his Taurus, Tate stared out the window, her body language revealing an almost palpable tension. What was she so nervous about? he wondered. The possibility of another break-in, Maggie’s condition or something more disturbing?
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Josh was gazing out the side window while his hands restlessly stroked the seat belt. He had to get them to relax, Nick decided, or he’d never find out a thing.
“Do you like pizza, Josh?” he asked the boy.
“Uh-huh.”
Great start. Nick turned onto Broadway heading toward central Tucson, shifting his thoughts back to Tate. She’d wanted to change clothes, but he’d assured her that she was dressed just right for where they were going. Oddly, she’d not asked where it was he was taking them. “I’ll bet you’ve never tasted pizza as good as Giovanni serves.”
“Probably not.” Tate kept her eyes on the road, wishing she hadn’t agreed to go. She could have opened a can of soup for the two of them. She hadn’t been out with a man in so long she scarcely remembered how to behave. Not that this outing could be considered a date. Yet she was as uneasy as if it were.
First, there was his maleness and his size coupled with a gentleness that didn’t seem to go with the package. Then there were those searching gray eyes. Cop’s eyes, to be sure, missing nothing, questioning everything. And last, but certainly not least, there were those probing inquiries. Tate was certain he’d asked them out so he could quiz Josh. She’d have to be on guard and she hated that. If only she could relax and put this whole nasty business out of her mind. But when would she be allowed the luxury of that?
“Giovanni, the guy who owns the restaurant, is a friend of the family,” Nick began, hoping if he revealed some personal things, she’d be inclined to follow his lead. “We call him Johnny but his Italian name is Giovanni. See, I have two older brothers, Tony and Sam, and Johnny has two older brothers, Vic and Paul. We all grew up in this wonderful ethnic neighborhood over that way.” He pointed west in the general direction of his old stomping grounds. “My folks still live there in this great two-story house. They raised five kids in that house.”
Despite a case of nerves, Tate found herself interested. “Ethnic as in Italian? Bennett doesn’t sound Italian.”
“My father was born Anthony Bennedetto, but somewhere along the line, the name got changed to Bennett. Both my parents are first-generation Americans. But we had other nationalities around us—German, Hungarian, Russian. And more recently, Mexican. It was a great place to raise children. My mother used to say that if a kid fell down on Palmetto Drive, three mothers rushed out before he had a chance to get up.” He smiled at her and noticed that at least she was looking at him and not the passing scenery.
“That must have been nice. I always wanted that for Josh, but…well, our plans don’t always work out.” Tate looked down at her hands, noticing they were in a near-death grip, and forced her fingers to relax.
His casual chatter was loosening her, so Nick hurried on. “No, they sure don’t. My dad wanted me to work in construction like him and my brothers, but doing the same thing over and over day after day bored me. When I got accepted at the Police Academy, I think my mother spent all her free time on her knees saying the rosary that I’d flunk out. She hates that I’m a cop, even now.”
“As a mother, I can understand that. It’s a dangerous job.” His gun was hidden by his jacket now, but she was acutely aware of its presence and what it represented.
“I suppose. But Tony broke both shoulders once falling off a roof he was prepping. Took him six months to recover. Sam got cut by a piece of rusty tin and ignored it until it got infected. He nearly wound up with blood poisoning. On any given day, any one of us can get run over by a bus, too. Danger is relative.”
“You’re talking accidents, which can happen to anyone. But your brothers aren’t dealing with criminals who have guns and other weapons and might somehow wind up cornered and decide to use them on a cop. You go looking for trouble every day.” And she wondered how he stood it. She’d had a small taste of danger and hated it.
“Not really, but trouble seems to find me anyhow.” Nick pulled into a crowded parking lot adjacent to a stucco building painted bright green and sporting a big red-and-white neon sign that flashed on and off, reading Giovanni’s. Strings of blinking red, white and green lights outlined the roof, the door and windows. Outside the main door was a huge fountain with cement cherubs pouring recirculated water. He saw that both of them were staring openmouthed. He was used to the place, as most everyone in the neighborhood was, but he knew it looked garish to a newcomer.
“The Italian flag colors, you know—red, white and green. It’s not as gaudy inside, the pasta’s to die for and the pizza can’t be beat.” Turning off the engine, he got out from behind the wheel and was about to go around to assist them, but Tate was already out and helping Josh unbuckle his seat belt. Okay, so chivalry was out.
Nick waited until they joined him before leading the way through the heavy wood door. Inside, he paused to let his guests absorb the atmosphere.
Dean Martin was crooning That’s Amore through the piped-in music system, adults and kids alike were chattering and several waiters wrapped in big white aprons were serving large trays of food and pitchers of cold drinks. A table of four joined Dean, singing loudly and off-key. They competed with a round table consisting of six kids and two adults who were singing birthday greetings to a boy of about eight.
“It’s never boring in here,” Nick said, leaning close to Tate in order to be heard. He caught the very feminine scent of her hair and quickly straightened.
A big man with wavy black hair and a full mustache spotted them and came rushing over. “Nickie, how you been?” He grasped Nick into a huge bear hug.
“Fine, Johnny.” Nick urged her forward with a hand to the small of her back. “I’d like you to meet Tate Monroe and h
er son, Josh.”
“Glad you’re here,” Johnny said, his dark eyes smiling. “Any friend of Nickie’s is a friend of mine.” He turned, looking around, then swung back. “Two minutes and I’ll have a booth for you, okay?”
“That’d be great.” Nick kept his hand at her back, wondering if she’d leave it there after Johnny walked away.
In a smooth move, Tate shifted fractionally and slipped her arm around Josh’s shoulders, aligning the two of them slightly apart from Nick. “What do you think, Josh?” she asked the boy.
“It smells good in here,” he answered shyly.
“And it tastes just as good,” Nick told them as he caught Johnny’s wave and led them to a booth where the table was draped with a red-and-white checkered cloth topped with bright green plastic place mats. He thanked his friend and accepted two huge menus, passing one to Tate who let Josh slide in, then followed him. Nick sat down opposite them.
“You can tell me what kind of pizza you like or I can let Johnny build us a special one,” he told Tate. “Your choice.”
Feeling a bit weary suddenly, Tate was glad to let him take over. “Why don’t you order for us?”
“No green peppers, though, okay?” Josh added.
“I’ll take the green peppers off yours, honey,” Tate told him.
Nick signaled Johnny over. “Not to worry. Hey, Big John, we want one of your specials, an extra large, hold the green peppers. And to drink?” He looked inquiringly at Tate. “Root beer or…” He saw them both nod. “A large pitcher of root beer.”
“Sure thing, my man. Be right back.” An Italian opera was now playing and Johnny took up the aria with the tenor, singing loud and boisterously as he made his way to the kitchen.
“He’s a bit of a character, but he has a heart of gold.” Nick studied the boy who was watching the kids at the next table with the birthday celebration. There was such longing in those green eyes that were so much like his mother’s. “Parties like that are great, aren’t they?” he asked Josh.
The boy didn’t answer, just kept staring. “When’s your birthday, Josh?”
“In March,” he answered, his eyes on the boy wearing the cone-shaped hat proclaiming him the birthday boy. They’d finished eating and the table was piled high with gifts. Wearing a gap-toothed grin, the boy began ripping open the nearest package while the others cheered him on.
Nick remembered that Tate had said they’d moved around a lot. That probably meant that Josh had few friends, too shy to make new ones in each new place that he’d soon have to leave. But why had they moved around so much? He shifted his gaze to Tate who was toying with her spoon thoughtfully.
“Maybe next March, we can arrange a party for you and your friends here,” Nick offered, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Don’t,” Tate said, her husky voice low but firm. “Please don’t make promises that you might not be able to keep. False hope is a terrible thing to live with.” She’d blurted it out before she thought how she’d sound, but this man they’d only just met had to know that she didn’t want Josh counting on things that may never happen. And who knew where they’d be by next March.
Nick saw that Josh was still occupied in watching the kids, pretending he hadn’t heard. “I didn’t mean any harm,” he said to Tate.
“I’m sure you didn’t.” She raised a hand to smooth back a curling lock of hair that was trying to escape the ponytail and sighed wearily. “People often make those kinds of statements and have no intention of following through. I’m not saying you’re like that, but…”
“I’m not like that, Tate. I realize you don’t know me, but I follow through.”
The arrival of a short, dark-haired young woman carrying a huge pizza and a frosty pitcher cut short their conversation. “Nickie!” she said, greeting him. Quickly she put everything on the table, then leaned over to hug him. “Long time, no see.”
“Hi, Gina. Yeah, I’ve been kind of busy.” He angled his head toward the room. “You’ve got a big crowd tonight.”
Gina nodded, smiling broadly at him. “Every night. You know Johnny. He’s not happy unless it’s standing-room only. Did you see Joey and Fran across the way?”
Nick looked over and caught his friends’ attention, smiled and waved. “Your sister’s expecting again, I see.”
“Oh, sure. Gotta keep Papa happy. He wants more grand-kids to spoil. He’s after me all the time to get married, get married. Drives me nuts.”
“I know the feeling. Gina, this is Tate and her son, Josh. Gina’s Johnny’s sister.”
Tate acknowledged the introduction with a smile while Josh was busily eyeing the huge pizza. “You enjoy,” Gina said, leaving.
Nick picked up a plate and began dishing out the pizza slices.
Tate scanned the room, listening to an old Perry Como recording playing. The place, at least the music, was caught in a time warp. She had no idea neighborhood places like this still existed, ones where friends met regularly. “The Italians have a way of turning a meal into a celebration,” she commented, accepting her plate with a piece so large it hung over the edges.
“You’ve got that right,” Nick said as he handed Josh his piece.
“Do you need help cutting that?” Tate asked her son.
“Mom, you don’t cut pizza. You pick it up and bite it.” Wrapping both hands around it, curling the piece, he took a huge bite, demonstrating.
“Yeah, Mom,” Nick echoed. “Where you been?”
She smiled as she picked up her fork. “Some of us are more civilized.”
“Fingers were made before forks,” Nick added before tasting his piece. “Mmm,” he purred. “This is better than…better than most pizzas.” He’d been about to say better than sex, but stopped himself just in time.
Meeting his eyes, Tate guessed exactly what he’d been thinking. For the first time, she gave him a genuine smile, one that reached those incredible eyes. “I agree, to your first thought, that is.” When he laughed out loud, she joined in.
The atmosphere, the good food, the noise insulating them in their own little pocket of privacy—all seemed to relax them and they ate in comfortable companionship. When Josh asked for a second piece, Tate was truly shocked. She dished it out, pleased her picky eater had an appetite on this disturbing day. She was glad she’d accepted Nick’s invitation after all, if the visit here made Josh put Maggie’s ordeal out of his mind even temporarily.
Intent on keeping things pleasant, Nick searched his mind for a neutral subject. “You never came here when you were going to U of A? It’s a big college hangout on weekends.”
Tate dabbed at her lips with the paper napkin. “No. I didn’t have a car so we stuck kind of close to the campus.”
Nick finished his second piece, debated about a third, then decided to go for it. “I’d have thought some of your dates might have brought you here. It’s been open about ten years.”
Tate shook her head. “I didn’t date much.”
He had trouble believing that. A woman as gorgeous as she was had to have had her pick of men. “From where I sit, I find that impossible to imagine.”
“I had to spend more time studying than either of my roommates. Molly was the smart one. She helped me a lot on subjects we took together.” Remembering those happier times, Tate felt a rush of nostalgia. “We had these nicknames for each other. Molly was the brain and Laura was the big bucks.”
“And you?” he asked, thinking that he knew.
Tate shrugged. “Seems silly now.”
“You were the beauty, right?”
Her green eyes raised to his, studying him, not answering. She was trying to figure him out, Nick decided. He liked keeping her off balance. “Want to know what they labeled me in college?”
The spell broken, Tate nodded.
“Bookworm. I’m the first, the only one in my family to go to college, much less graduate. Now you’d think that would fill my parents with pride. Nope. As I said earlier, they wanted me in the family busi
ness, and you don’t need a degree to build houses, or so my father said. I’d get tired of books and come back to them, he predicted. So I studied and studied so I could prove him wrong. I was dull, a regular nerd.”
It was Tate’s turn to register disbelief. “Come on. With your build, you must have gone out for football or maybe basketball. I can’t believe you sat in your room studying instead of dating a whole flock of coeds.” Even if she shaved off ten years, he was more than average attractive. Was he fishing?
“Not so. You can ask my family. Girls scared me so I hid behind books.”
Still smiling, Tate shook her head in amazement. “Me-thinks you doth protest too much.”
Josh drained his root beer mug and, having made it halfway through his second piece, sat back looking stuffed.
“You really like this pizza, eh?” Tate asked, handing him his napkin.
“It was great.” Josh swiped at his mouth halfheartedly.
Now that they were well fed and smiling, Nick decided they were relaxed enough to give him some answers. “Josh, Maggie watches you after school and sometimes on weekends when your mom has to work, right?”
The boy shot a look to his mother.
“It’s all right, sweetie. Remember, Nick’s a detective and he wants to find the man who hurt Maggie. You can answer him.” But she intended to guide this question session.
“Yes,” Josh said.
“Do the two of you usually stay in the house or does Maggie take you places?”
“Sometimes we go to the park. I like the jungle gym.”
“Have you ever noticed any strangers, someone you might have seen more than once, hanging around the park or near your house?” Nick watched Josh again glance at his mother before answering.
“There was this one guy. I saw him one day at the park, then later he was in a big black car across the street from Maggie’s.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “What did he look like?”
Josh screwed up his face, thinking. “Just a guy. He had black hair in a ponytail, not as long as Mom’s. And both times, he wore black pants and a black shirt. He had on sunglasses.”