Stan cleared his throat. “By the 1940s, the building was home to several business offices. Not until it was rebuilt in the seventies was the top floor turned into an apartment. The zoning laws changed shortly afterward, so if a person built on this same location today, they wouldn’t be able to use any part of the structure for residential. That makes this old beauty unique.”
“I guess so.” Diane’s cheeks faded to a normal color. “Are you planning to live in the apartment, rent it out, or turn it into office space?”
Kevin scratched his chin. “I have no desire to live here.” She seemed to release a held breath, and he couldn’t decide whether he was insulted by her obvious relief. “I might offer it as part of a salary package for the person hired to manage the property, or I might lease it. I’m not sure yet.”
“Why don’t we go up and explore the apartment?” Stan headed toward an iron scissor gate standing guard in front of a metal door. “The owner has kept the electricity turned on so we can make use of the Turnbull traction elevator. Then, if you’d like, we can go to each level via the enclosed staircases—let you experience both means of accessing the different floors.”
“That sounds fine.” Kevin rolled up the detail sheet and used it to point. “Lead the way, Ms. DeFord.” As he followed her into the mirrored elevator car, a question floated through his mind. Was she Ms. DeFord because she’d divorced and taken back her maiden name, or had she never married? He’d planned to talk about Meghan over lunch, but if he got up his nerve, he might ask a little more about Diane, too.
What a shame if a pretty lady like her had remained single her whole life. Especially if he’d been the one to scare her away from relationships.
Fourteen
Little Rock, Arkansas
Meghan
Greg lounged at one end of the sofa in the captain’s office, and Meghan sat at the opposite end, fiddling with the straw in her soda cup while Captain Ratzlaff paced in front of his desk and went over the travel plans for her and Greg’s trip to Fort Smith. Nothing unusual in any of it—state-arranged hotel accommodations, paperwork to keep track of their expenses, and a printout of the information gathered from the original investigation and Sheila Menke’s statements.
The captain handed Greg the packet even though he’d said Meghan would be the lead on this case. “I’m not sure how it’s going to work, having Sheila trailing you. She knows she’s responsible for her own expenses. I almost hope her resources run out and she has to go home. I suspect she’ll end up being a nuisance, but she’s bullheaded enough not to listen to suggestions to stay out of it and let y’all do your jobs.”
Meghan chuckled, forcing a levity she didn’t feel. “When she said she wanted to keep up with the investigation, I expected frequent calls or texts, not a travel partner.” She shrugged. “I think I understand why she wants to go with us, though. Think of everything she’s lost—her father, her home, now her mother. She needs to hang on to something. This investigation gives her an outlet to regain some semblance of control.”
A rare smile formed on the captain’s face. “And that’s why you’re on this one, DeFord. I know you’ll be diplomatic.” He shifted his gaze to Greg, who was paging through the file. “Dane, any questions?”
Greg plopped the envelope on the sofa between Meghan and him. “It’s a standard investigation. With the exception of a third, unauthorized detective getting in the way. I’m more than happy to let DeFord handle the man’s daughter.”
“All right, then.” Captain Ratzlaff opened his office door. “I’ll let you two decide whose vehicle you’ll take and how you’ll meet up for tomorrow’s road trip. Stay in touch, and good luck. I hope it goes quick.”
Meghan carried the folder out with her, and she and Greg returned to their desks. He folded his arms on his giant desk calendar and pinned his gaze on her. “All right. Let’s talk travel plans.”
Meghan had suspected it would be awkward to make arrangements to travel with someone other than Sean, but the depth of discomfort startled her. She squirmed in her seat. “Um, do you mind driving? We usually take Sean’s Bronco. I have my little Chevy, but it’s not the most comfortable vehicle for distances.”
“Yeah, I can drive. No problem. How about we meet up here tomorrow morning, usual start time, and load up and go?”
Glad to have it settled, Meghan nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.” The sooner they got started, the sooner they could bring this temporary arrangement to an end and get back to normal.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Diane
Thank goodness for the fountains at the Bellagio. Diane had a perfect reason for gazing to the side rather than looking into Kevin’s face during lunch. The intensity of his attention left her floundering and tongue tied—gracious, couldn’t he have lost his magnetic attractiveness at some point over the past three decades?—but if she talked to the fountains instead of him, she could speak freely, almost passionately, about the girl she loved more than life itself.
She shared everything she considered important about Meghan, painting a picture of an adorable, inquisitive little girl who grew into an intelligent, respectful, responsible, caring young woman. As she spoke, pride welled up inside her and occasionally brought the sting of tears. She hadn’t intended to talk so much or so long, but once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. And Kevin didn’t seem interested in stopping her. Here they were, over an hour at this table, and she’d taken only a few bites of her salad of arugula, blue cheese, and shredded beets.
Diane took a sip of her water, moistening her dry mouth, then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m not surprised she chose to go into investigative work. She always loved solving puzzles and unraveling mysteries. When she was a kid, she read every mystery series she could find at the library.”
Kevin chuckled. His plate held only a few crumbs, and he pushed one of the larger bits of bread back and forth with his finger. “Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys?”
“And the Boxcar Children, among others, yes.” She sneaked a quick bite. “There were times her questions kind of got on my nerves, but I did my best to answer her. It was the teacher in me, I guess. I can’t let questions go unanswered.”
Except about Meghan’s father. She’d squelched—no, stomped out—every one of those queries.
She took another bite and watched the fountains.
“Obviously Meghan’s a great kid. Er, woman.” Kevin’s serious tone drew Diane’s attention. Lines marred his brow, and he pursed his lips for a moment as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. He cleared his throat, but the worry lines didn’t dissolve. “You raised her alone? Always?”
Diane swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Did you ever marry? Have a live-in? Anybody to coparent with you?”
Now, that was too personal. She pushed her plate aside, no longer interested in the salad. “I really don’t think that’s your concern, Kevin.”
He held up both palms. “Don’t get defensive on me. I have a reason for asking.”
Yes, being nosy. She’d agreed to talk about Meghan, but she wouldn’t put up with him prying into her private life. “I’ll answer, but then the subject is closed. I didn’t marry. I didn’t have a live-in boyfriend. Ever.” She wouldn’t divulge the reason she never married. She couldn’t trust a man to be there for her. Her father died, her high school boyfriends never stuck around after meeting her overprotective mother, and then Kevin kicked her to the curb. She wasn’t about to set herself up for more loss or rejection and put Meghan through it in the process.
“So how’d you do it?”
Diane shook her head. “Do what?”
“Raise such an amazing kid on your own.” He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, his blue eyes nearly blazing. “I mean, I have a son.” He made a face. “Well, a stepson. He was three when I married his mother, and I adopted him when he
was almost four.”
Envy struck—a startling emotion. He’d raised someone else’s child but refused to raise his own?
“His deadbeat dad didn’t want anything to do with him, so somebody had to step up.”
And yet he didn’t see himself as a deadbeat dad? She gritted her teeth and forced down the ugly comments forming on her tongue. A public café was no place for a confrontation, and the same way she’d spoken openly about Meghan, she might let loose on Kevin. Mother was right. She hadn’t forgiven him.
“His name is Kristopher with a K, but he goes by Kip.” No pride lit Kevin’s face when he spoke of his adopted son. If anything, he seemed embarrassed. Maybe even ashamed. “To be honest, he’s a mess. He was always in trouble at school. Even got kicked out of a private school for picking a fight with one of his teachers. He was all of eleven at the time.”
Diane had dealt with a few troubled students in her career. She’d always believed that kids who had problems needed a combination of compassion and consistent discipline. Most people either ignored the behavior, which left the child escalating in attempts for attention, or came down on the child with harsh punishment, which destroyed any hope for a relationship. She started to ask how Kevin had handled Kip’s issues, but she decided she didn’t need to know. She sat in silence, and after a few moments he went on.
“It wasn’t as if we didn’t try. We—meaning his mother and me—enrolled him in karate, Boy Scouts, Little League. Even got him counseling for a while. Nothing helped. He scared off half a dozen nannies and totally destroyed the relationship between Julie and me. He was just a…a brat.”
Diane bristled. “That’s not a very kind way to speak about your own child.”
He held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Kind or not, it’s the truth.” He rested his elbows on the table again. “There was a whole army of people involved in Kip’s upbringing. Even so, he’s what just about anyone would call a first-class failure at life. Yet Meghan…” He shook his head, his brow furrowing again. “From what you’ve said, she’s a complete success. So how’d you do it all by yourself? How did you produce a kid who could win the Good Citizenship award hands down?”
Diane started to say “luck.” After all, she knew how much she’d failed with Meghan, sometimes bordering on neglect in her attempt to give her daughter the freedom she’d never experienced as a child. But when she opened her mouth, a surprising answer emerged. “Prayer.”
Kevin drew back. “You…prayed?”
She couldn’t suppress a laugh. His stunned expression matched her own shock. “No, I didn’t. I pray a lot now. I returned to my childhood faith a few years ago. But I didn’t pray when Meghan was growing up. Someone else did, though. My mother. Faithfully. And I think God honored her prayers.”
Kevin stared at her as if she’d started speaking in a foreign language.
Regret for the years she’d lost carrying resentment toward her mother and rejecting God’s presence in her life created a painful pressure in her chest. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and blinked against tears. “I actually blew it in a lot of ways, but in spite of me, God was there. I can’t take credit for Meghan’s stability, respectfulness, and success. She is who she is, in large part, because of who God crafted her to be and because her grandmother steadfastly prayed for her to become an honorable woman of faith.”
Kevin stared at her through narrowed eyes for several seconds, seeming as if to forgo breathing during that time. Then he released a little huff of laughter. He lifted his napkin and wiped his mouth, and as he drew his hand downward, his puzzled expression changed to the overly self-confident expression she remembered him wearing in college.
“Well, this has been…enlightening. I appreciate you taking the time to tell me about your daughter.”
So they were back to your daughter again.
“Congratulations on raising such an exemplary human being.” He was complimenting her, but his tone held a note of derision. “I had hoped you would tell me something that would be beneficial for Kip. He’s hardly a child anymore, but sometimes boys take their time growing up. I thought maybe you’d have suggestions for salvaging him before he wastes his entire life.”
So he hadn’t met with her to learn about Meghan but to harvest ideas for fixing his broken adopted son. He was still using her.
He stood. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Diane remained in her chair. Irritation at Kevin warred with sympathy for the young man named Kip on whom everyone had seemingly given up. She snapped, “I did tell you something beneficial. You just chose to dismiss it.”
His brows descended. He slid back into his chair. “Are you talking about prayer?”
She nodded. “I know you disdained religion when you were in college. To be honest, I did, too. Because I didn’t understand the difference between religion and relationship.”
“You aren’t making sense, Diane.”
His growling tone should have warned her into silence, but she’d spent too many years ignoring God. She wouldn’t ignore opportunities to make up for her rebellion. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his clenched fist.
“I told you I pray now. But that’s not because I have religion. It’s because I have a relationship with God through His Son. When I was a little girl, I asked Jesus to be my savior, but then I let rebellion and anger at people separate me from Him. But He forgave me, and He welcomed me back into fellowship. So now I’m connecting with the One who created the universe and everything in it. I can’t change or fix anyone, but He can. When I pray, I open the door for God to work. My mother’s prayers impacted Meghan’s life, and they impacted mine. A lot of people let me down, including you.”
He yanked his hand free of her light touch and folded his arms.
“But God never did. He never will. That’s why I know I can trust Him to continue to guide Meghan and me. You can trust Him to guide you and Kip. Open your heart to Him and let Him in.”
Fifteen
Kevin
When Kevin played tourist and walked the Strip last night, he’d encountered a man carrying a Bible and hollering into a bullhorn for people to repent and be saved. Some other people pointed and laughed, but Kevin had skirted past, inwardly cringing. Did the man have any idea how foolish he looked and sounded? Now he cringed again, more ill at ease than he’d ever been, facing Diane’s heartfelt but misguided sincerity.
“Are you done preaching at me?” He forced a light tone that directly contrasted the heaviness weighing on his spirit.
A grin briefly formed on her lips, then disappeared. “For now.”
“Hmph.” He pulled several bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table, then rose. He escorted her onto the sidewalk and paused. “Where did you park?”
“In the Caesars Palace parking garage.”
He gained his bearings and then set off north up Las Vegas Boulevard. He tempered his stride slightly to match hers. She wasn’t a petite woman—the top of her head reached his chin, and he was six two—but she’d worn a long straight skirt, and it restricted her progress. Of course, the numerous pedestrians crowding the sidewalk also slowed his pace.
They stepped around others, Diane murmuring “Excuse me” now and then. The red light stopped them at Flamingo Road, and he clenched and unclenched his fist inside his jacket pocket, counting the seconds until the walk signal came on. The crunch of people flowed forward, someone bumped him, and he and Diane got separated. He waited on the opposite curb for her to catch up. The little smile of thank-you she offered stabbed him with fresh regret he didn’t understand.
Walking side by side became too difficult, so he fell behind her and followed her to the opening of the large garage behind the casino built to resemble Rome’s Pantheon. She stopped beneath the covered portico.
“Thank you for the tour of the build
ing, and thanks for lunch.”
She sounded so formal. But what should he expect? They weren’t friends. They were barely acquaintances anymore. They were two people who, in their youth and stupidity, had created a baby and then gone their separate ways. They’d had a brief crossing of paths, satisfied their curiosities about the other, and now it was time to return to their regularly scheduled lives. Except for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand, he didn’t think he could return to his “regular” life unchanged.
He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked on the soles of his shoes. “Thanks for meeting with me, giving me your feedback on the property. It’s helpful to see the building through a different pair of eyes than my own.”
She’d been amazingly attentive to details, noticing things he would have overlooked. Her observations had already stirred ideas for improving the building and making it more visually appealing to female clientele. Women, after all, were the ones who spent the money. A wise businessman did what he could to capture their interest.
“It was fun. I hope the acquisition and remodel will go well for you.” She pulled her keys from her purse and jangled them. “I better let you go. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Las Vegas.” She took two steps and then turned back. “Kevin…”
He eased forward and closed the distance between them. “What?”
Pink crept through her cheeks, and she blinked rapidly, as if nervousness had suddenly gripped her. “I want you to know I…I don’t hold a grudge against you. You know, for not wanting to be with me and help raise our baby.”
He supposed her statement was meant to make him feel better, but it didn’t. It made him feel like a sap. He angled his head and squinted at her. “Okay.”
“Honestly, Meghan’s a gift. A blessing. Even though it wasn’t easy being a single mom and carrying the stigma of having a child out of wedlock, I can’t wish we’d never been together, because that would mean I wish she hadn’t been born. I could never wish her away.”
Unveiling the Past Page 11