by Metsy Hingle
“Only you’re not going to get shot and have to go to heaven the way Daddy did, will you, Uncle Mike?” Micky asked.
“Are you kidding? With all these fancy karate moves you and your brother have been teaching me, nobody better mess with me,” Michael joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Okay, boys, kiss Uncle Mike good-night.”
“Kissing is for girls,” Petey informed his mother. “Us men don’t kiss.”
“Yeah, us men don’t kiss,” Micky parroted.
Michael bit back a grin. “Trust me, guys, someday you’re going to change your mind about that. What do you say we shake hands?”
“I guess that would be okay,” Petey said solemnly.
Michael held out his hand. And when Petey offered his smaller hand, Michael took it and hugged the boy close. Then he did the same thing with Micky.
“Well, I’m a girl, and I want a kiss,” Janie told her sons.
Both boys looked to him. “It’s all right for us guys to kiss a girl—especially if the girl happens to be a mom.”
Satisfied with the answer, both boys kissed and hugged their mother. “You going to kiss Mom good-night, too, Uncle Mike?” Micky asked him.
Janie flushed. “I’m not Uncle Mike’s mom,” she informed her son.
“But I saw Jason’s mom kissing that guy Eric she’s supposed to marry. Jason said Eric’s going to be his new dad,” Micky argued.
“But your Uncle Mike and I aren’t married, and he isn’t your dad,” Janie explained.
“But Petey and I want him to be our dad. It’s not fair. Jason’s going to have two dads and we don’t have any. So maybe if you kissed Uncle Mike, you and him could get married and then Uncle Mike could stay with us all the time and be our dad,” Micky offered.
“Oh, Micky,” Janie said. “It doesn’t work that way, sweetie.”
Oh man, Michael thought, feeling as though he were dancing in quicksand. From the stricken look on Janie’s face, she felt the same. “Your Mom’s right, partner. That’s not how it works.”
“Then how does it work?” Petey demanded.
“When two people get married it’s because they love each other and they want to spend the rest of their lives together,” Janie explained.
“Well, Uncle Mike loves us and we love him,” Petey reasoned. “Don’tcha, Uncle Mike?”
Michael felt as though someone had just reached inside his chest and closed a fist around his heart. He stooped down so that he was eye level with the two boys. “Yeah. I do love you guys. And I love your mom, too—but not the way a man loves a woman he marries.” Perhaps if he and Janie hadn’t both loved Pete, things between them might have been different. As it was, Pete would always stand between them. Pete—and his own guilt for the hand he’d played in destroying their marriage.
“What your Uncle Mike is trying to say is that he and I love each other like a brother and sister,” Janie clarified.
“But brothers and sisters can’t get married to each other,” Petey said in that what-a-yucky-idea tone that only a seven-year-old boy could pull off.
“And that’s why your Uncle Mike and I could never get married,” Janie said. “Do you understand?”
Petey shrugged. “I guess so. You’re saying you don’t love him the way you loved my dad, because he’s like your brother or something.”
“Or something,” Janie conceded.
“But it sure would have been cool to have Uncle Mike be our dad,” Petey said with disappointment.
Michael ruffled the two blond heads. “And it would have been cool to be your dad. But since I can’t, how about Uncle Mike the Karate King?” And to lighten the moment, Michael made the ridiculous hi-ya sound again and began chopping at the air—sending both boys into fits of giggles.
“All right,” Janie said, clapping her hands. “Let’s get those teeth brushed and hit the sack. I’ll be there in a few minutes to tuck you in.”
“’Night, Uncle Mike,” Petey said. Evidently forgetting about guys not kissing, he wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck and kissed his cheek.
“’Night, partner,” Michael said, and hugged both boys in turn.
Once the boys had left the room, Janie said, “I’m sorry they put you on the spot that way. I hadn’t realized they might misconstrue things.”
“They’re just kids, Janie.”
“I know. But maybe I haven’t been fair to them. I mean, after what happened with Pete, and that mess with you in the department…well, leaving Houston and starting over here in Florida seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe it wasn’t.”
“You did what you felt was best at the time.”
She looked up at him out of those big doe eyes. “We both know I left Texas because I needed to get away from the memories of what Pete had done to me, to our family.”
“Pete loved you, Janie.”
“Is that why he betrayed me? Is that why he broke his oath as a police officer and tried to double-cross those drug dealers so he could get money to run away with Giselle?”
Michael went to her, took her in his arms. “He was confused. The thing you have to remember is that Pete realized he’d made a mistake. That’s why he called me that night. He wanted out. He wanted to fix things, make them right with you.”
As long as he lived, he’d never forget that night, that phone call from Pete telling him that he’d planned to leave Janie and the boys for Giselle. He had told Giselle that the buy with the Russian was a sting. The two of them were supposed to take the money and run, only now he was having second thoughts, but he’d left things too late. Not even Michael could fix it for him this time.
Michael could still hear himself insisting Pete tell him when he’d set up the exchange. He should have known Pete had lied, but by the time he’d figured it out, and arrived on the scene, things were already out of control. Pete had gone down trying to save Giselle. It didn’t matter that he’d managed to take out the dealers, he hadn’t saved Pete. He’d let Giselle get away—on the condition that she kept her mouth shut about Pete’s involvement—and with the promise if she ever said a word he would kill her. “He wouldn’t have gone through with it, Janie.”
She looked up at him, pressed a sisterly kiss to his lips and stepped back. “You’re a good man, Michael Patrick Sullivan. But you and I both know that you’re lying.”
“Janie—”
“Stop making excuses for him!”
“I’m not,” he argued.
“Yes, you are. Michael, you’ve made a career of covering for Pete. Even back when the three of us were in college, you were covering for him. When Pete broke team curfew and almost got kicked off the football team. And when Pete partied too hard and missed his English final, you were the one who sweet-talked the professor into letting him take the makeup. And then you locked yourself up with him all weekend to cram.”
“He was my friend. Friends look out for each other.”
“Don’t you see?” Janie said. “From the time you two were kids, you’ve been bailing Pete out of trouble. Well, Pete’s dead. He doesn’t need you to cover for him anymore.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he insisted.
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” he told her. “That night…that night he wouldn’t have gone through with it. I knew Pete, Janie. He wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
Janie sighed. “I knew Pete, too. He was funny and sweet and lovable. And he was also weak, irresponsible and a little selfish.” She held up her hand, cutting off his protest. “It’s true. I may have loved Pete, but I wasn’t blind to what he was, Michael.”
“You think I am?”
“I think you don’t want to believe that the kid you took a blood brother’s oath with at ten grew up to be less honorable than you did.”
“I’m not a saint,” he fired back, annoyed by the implication.
“No, but you have a sense of honor that Pete never had. If things had been the other way around and you’d been the one
who’d been killed that night and had left a wife and two babies behind, do you think Pete would still be hanging around, trying to take care of your family for you?”
The Pete he’d known wouldn’t have hung around. Not because he didn’t care, but because he’d always found it difficult to deal with other people’s problems. Feeling the need to defend his dead friend, he turned around and said, “Pete was a good man.”
“I’m not saying he wasn’t. But he’s dead, Michael. You need to quit blaming yourself for his mistakes.”
“I should have seen what was going on, that Giselle was using him,” he argued, and stalked over to the window to stare out at the dark street.
“He didn’t want you to see. Just like he didn’t want me to see. He knew what he was doing was wrong. The mistakes were Pete’s. Not yours. I never blamed you, and you need to stop blaming yourself.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he told her.
She came up behind him, touched his back. “You have to. It’s time you moved on with your life, Michael. It’s time we both did. I didn’t realize until tonight how selfish I’d been until I listened to the boys ask you to be their father.”
“They’re just kids. Besides, you couldn’t be selfish if you tried.”
“It was selfish of me to encourage you to leave your job and move here away from your family when things were so strained between you and your father.”
“My decision to leave the Houston P.D. had nothing to do with you. Neither did my problems with my father.”
“But you might have stayed in Texas and worked things out with him if it hadn’t been for me and the boys. We both know the real reason you moved to Florida was so you could look out for us—the same way you were always looking out for Pete. I shouldn’t have let you do that. It was selfish.”
“It wasn’t your choice. It was mine. I wanted to be near you and the boys. And the only selfish thing you’ve done is not offer me some more of those chocolate chip cookies you made.”
Janie hesitated a moment, then said, “All right. Go on into the kitchen and find yourself something to drink while I make sure my little monsters are in bed. Then I’ll see if I have any cookies left.”
As much at home in the Crenshaw house as he was in his own, Michael put the teakettle on for Janie and a pot of coffee on for himself. While he waited for the water to heat and his coffee to brew, he piled a half-dozen of the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate.
When Janie joined him a short time later, she smiled at the sight of the tea fixings. “It’s kind of late for coffee, isn’t it?” she asked as she selected her tea and poured the steaming water into the cup to steep.
“I could use the caffeine. I’ve got a lot of prep work to do tonight if I hope to leave in the morning.”
“More corporate espionage? Or another one of those millionaire investors who skipped town with his clients’ money?”
“A runaway wife.”
Janie arched her eyebrow as she added sugar to her tea. “I thought you’d sworn off those types of cases and were sticking with the corporate stuff.”
“I did, and I was. But the lady’s husband made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he said in his best Brando/godfather imitation.
Janie laughed and passed him the milk for his coffee. “That was terrible. I hope the guy didn’t actually sound that bad.”
“He didn’t. But he might as well have. I didn’t like him.”
“Then why’d you take the case?” she asked.
“The money primarily. He offered me a million bucks to find her.”
Janie nearly choked on her tea. “Who is this guy?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.” And the truth was, he suspected Janie would be better off not knowing. “Let’s just say, he’s someone with deep pockets who desperately wants his much younger wife back.”
“You said money was the primary reason. What’s the other one?”
“The woman swiped the guy’s kid. A little boy who’s three. I may not have liked the man, but he has a right to see his child. And the kid has a right to know his father.” He couldn’t help thinking once again how Petey and Micky hadn’t had a chance to know their own father.
Janie reached across the table, patted his hand. “See what I mean about that honorable streak of yours?”
“It’s a job, Janie,” he said.
“It’s more than a job. You’re doing it for the little boy.”
“And the money.”
“All right, for the money, too. But something tells me you could have said no to the money, but not to helping that little boy.”
It was true, which made him feel like a sap. He didn’t even know the kid, but the photo he’d gotten from Webster had shown a brown-haired little boy with serious dark eyes. “Maybe,” he finally conceded. “But the money was a big factor, too. Speaking of which, I want you to have this for the boys.” He slid a bank book across the table to Janie. He’d opened an account in her sons’ names into which he’d deposited the bulk of the retainer.
Janie’s eyes widened as she stared at the bank book. Then she shoved the book back at him. “I can’t accept this. I can’t believe you actually thought that I would. It’s bad enough that I allowed you to pay for their karate lessons. But this…this is going too far.”
“Come on, Janie. You’ve been worried for months about being laid off from your job. That money will take some of the pressure off and even allow you to plan for the boys’ futures.”
“They’re my sons, Michael, and my responsibility. Not yours.”
“I’m their godfather. What’s wrong with me wanting to help?”
“What’s wrong is that you’re working at a job you hate. You’ve cut off ties with a father you adored, out of some misplaced sense of guilt. You have no close friendships outside of me and the boys, and I can’t even remember the last time you had a woman in your life.”
“There are tons of women in my life,” he said defensively.
“I’m talking about a serious relationship—not one that consists of a casual dinner followed by casual sex.”
Because she was hitting some sore spots, he fired back without thinking, “And what about you, Janie? You’re pretty, smart and one of the best women I know, but I don’t see you letting any guy get close to you.”
“I’ll admit I have been gun-shy for a long time because of what Pete did. But there is someone I’m sort of seeing.”
“There is?” he countered, stunned by the news. Immediately protective, he asked, “Who is he?”
“No one you know. Besides, it’s nothing serious. Not yet anyway. But at least I’m willing to take a chance again. You need to, as well.” She let out a breath. “Look, I really appreciate this,” she said, indicating the bank book. “But I can’t accept it.”
“Listen, I know it seems like a lot of money, but it’s just the retainer I got for this case. When I find the woman and her son, I’m going to collect the rest of my fee.” He saw no point in telling her that if he didn’t find Mrs. Webster and her son, he would have to return the money.
“But it’s your money. You should use it to do something for you.”
He grinned at her. “When I collect the balance, I plan to. I’m going to buy that sailboat I’ve had my eye on, take some time off and spend it sailing.” He caught her hand, placed the bank book in it. “But right now, I want you to have this. For the boys.”
“But suppose you can’t find this woman?” Janie asked.
“Oh, I’ll find her all right.” Elisabeth Webster didn’t have a prayer at remaining hidden from him. “You can count on it.”
Four
“Yeah, that’s her. That’s Beth,” the woman named Susie, working behind the drugstore counter, told Michael as she studied the photograph of Elisabeth Webster he’d shown her. “Only she wasn’t wearing any diamonds like those when she worked here.”
Excited to have finally come across someone who had actually been able to identify the Webster
woman, he asked, “Can you remember how long ago that was?”
“Gee, probably two—no, two and a half months ago. I remember because she quit right after Thanksgiving weekend without giving Mr. Perkins any notice. He was pretty steamed, it being the holidays and all.”
At least he was getting closer, Michael told himself. After spending the past ten days retracing Elisabeth Webster’s path through Florida and Mississippi, he’d ended up in the small, quiet town of El Dorado, Arkansas, population twenty-five thousand. Not exactly a hot spot like Miami and West Palm Beach where she’d lived and partied with her husband for the past seven years. It certainly was an odd choice for a woman who was used to the nightclub scene. “Your boss mentioned she left because of a family emergency.” Which, in itself, was interesting, Michael decided, since he’d been able to find no family whatsoever for Elisabeth Webster other than her husband and son.
“Susie, how about a piece of that pie?” a burly-looking guy called out from the end of the counter.
“Be right there,” the girl replied, and hustled down to the other end of the old-fashioned counter to serve the fellow a thick slab of pie.
While he waited for Susie to return, Michael tried to reconcile the Elisabeth Webster described in the file to the woman who had worked at a day-care center in Mississippi before moving to the sleepy little Arkansas town where she’d worked behind the counter in a drugstore. It simply didn’t make sense.