Suddenly her chest felt tight and it hurt to breathe.
Funeral. She’d have to make arrangements for her aunt’s funeral. She squeezed her eyes shut and tersely ordered the tears to stop. Now was not the time to start blubbering. She was being brutal with herself but she didn’t have a choice. She blinked to clear her vision and then opened the front door. First things first…
COLIN GLANCED UP AT the wall clock and wondered what time the woman’s plane was scheduled to arrive. He’d thought she would have called to let him know, but she hadn’t so he was left to guess. He thought of Charlie McNulty, laying broken and battered, in the hospital ICU, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had caused such animosity between father and daughter. His thoughts shifted to his relationship with Danni and a cold chill entered his heart. What if Danni never forgave him? Was he doomed to spend the next few years chasing after an angry teen, only to lose her forever when she finally moved away?
This morning he’d tried to talk to her about the events of last night, but Danni had stonewalled him, choosing instead to chew her oatmeal in silence. Only occasionally did her gaze stray to the dog that had commandeered a spot by the fireplace.
As a last-ditch effort, he tried offering to give her a ride to school, but all he received in response was a withering stare, which told him that she’d rather freeze to death than spend more than five minutes in his company.
How much longer was she going to punish him for trying to protect her? Surely, she couldn’t hold it against him for the rest of their lives? He grimaced at the sour feeling lodged in his gut. Of course, she could. And at this point, it was probably exactly what she planned on doing.
Ah, hell…
Realizing that he’d been staring at the same piece of paperwork for the last ten minutes, he was almost relieved when the dispatcher called his name over the paging system.
“Officer Barrett to the front desk. Officer Barrett to the front desk.”
Dropping the paper in his in-tray, he went to answer his page.
He peered through the window in the lobby door and saw a tall, lithe woman with a startling contrast between skin so pale it looked almost translucent and shoulder-length, jet-black hair. She removed a pair of stylish glasses, and quickly folded them into a case while she waited. Erin McNulty. There was no doubt in his mind. For someone who grew up in Granite Hills, she couldn’t look more foreign to her surroundings. She had big city written all over her, from the black cashmere scarf wound around her neck to the leather gloves she was pulling from her fingertips as she glanced around in an impatient gesture. He shook his head at the realization that she was nothing like he’d expected, though, to be honest, he hadn’t thought he’d be so off the mark. In this case, it seemed the apple had catapulted from the proverbial tree and landed somewhere on another continent.
Pushing open the door, he found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes that were almost unreal in their brilliance. He nearly said something stupid but, fortunately, he caught himself in time. The woman’s family was in shambles. The last thing she needed was some yahoo babbling about the color of her eyes.
“You must be Erin McNulty,” he said, extending his hand with professional courtesy, which she accepted with a nod. “I’m sorry to meet under such circumstances,” he said, watching as she made a concentrated effort to hold back tears. “I knew Caroline from her volunteer work at the Winter Festival. She could make a mean cup of cocoa.”
Her head jerked in a nod. “She said the secret was using fresh cream instead of milk.” Her voice was husky with emotion. “Makes it smooth as silk and twice as fattening.”
“Twice as good in my book,” he countered, wondering when she’d last eaten a good meal. She was so skinny he could almost count her ribs through the turtleneck sweater she wore.
“Yes, that’s what people said,” she added, offering a brief smile that was clearly for his benefit before drawing a deep, halting breath. “But then again, there wasn’t much that Caroline couldn’t make taste good,” she murmured, dropping her gaze in an attempt to hide the sudden glistening in her eyes. A rueful smile touched her lips. “She was always trying to get me in the kitchen, one way or another. I tried telling her I didn’t inherit her talents but she wouldn’t listen and invariably, every Christmas I’d get the newest Betty Crocker cookbook in the mail. I have everything from Crock-pot Creations to Delicious Desserts and I’ve never cracked open a one. But she never quit trying….” She frowned as if embarrassed at her personal comments to a total stranger.
“It’s okay—”
“I’m sorry—” she cut in tightly, shaking her head before clearing her throat. “My aunt’s dog…were you able to go get her last night?”
“Yes,” he answered, feeling oddly guilty for catching a glimpse of her personal pain when she had no desire to share such intimate details about herself. There was a brittle quality to her rigidly held composure, like someone whose hold on the fabric of life as she’d known it was slipping as it tore in two.
“Have you gone to see your father yet?” he asked, the question springing from his lips without conscious thought.
An iron curtain slammed behind her eyes and he had his answer. Disappointment welled in his chest but he couldn’t explain why. If the woman had no interest in seeing her father before he died, it was none of his business. Sure, it seemed heartless, but why should he care? His utmost concern was relieving his home of the dog that had seemed quite comfortable this morning laying beside his hearth. “Your dog is at my house. If you want to follow me I’ll take you to her.”
“She’s not my dog,” she corrected him.
“She is now.”
She conceded that small point, adding, “Well, only until I can find a suitable home for her. My life isn’t conducive to pets.”
He knew she worked for a magazine but he wasn’t sure in what capacity. Before he could ask, she answered what must’ve been the question in his eyes.
“I’m a photographer. I travel. A lot.”
“That’s right, American Photographic,” he said, recalling how difficult it had been tracking her down. “Real nice magazine.”
She accepted his compliment with a reluctant smile and he was struck by how she looked every inch the part of a sophisticated traveler. She could probably navigate a crowded airport terminal with ease and sleep just as comfortably in a hotel bed as her own. In her world, the word home was probably a relative term. He couldn’t imagine a life like that. “So, how long are you staying?”
She seemed startled by his question and she fumbled a little, causing a momentary break in her carefully held composure. “N-not long,” she answered, quickly regaining her equilibrium. “Um…the dog?”
In other words: Butt out of my business.
“I’ll get my coat,” he answered, prickling just a little at her subtle hint to back off, yet at the same time reluctantly intrigued by the questions that came to mind when he considered her attitude toward her father. He was smart enough to know that it was foolish to draw parallels between his problems with Danni and the damaged relationship Erin had with her father. The situations were likely not the same but he couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever come a time when Danni would refuse to see him at his darkest hour. The pain that went straight to his heart almost made him make a plea for Charlie’s case, but a quick reminder that it was none of his business kept him from making a fool out of himself.
Five minutes later Colin was pulling into his driveway while Erin’s sleek, black rented Tahoe came to a stop directly behind him. The storm had kicked up again, sending flurries of snow drifting to the ground, making him wonder whether or not Danni had remembered to take her woolen hat when she stomped off to school this morning. Probably not, which was why he decided at that moment, despite the glares he’d no doubt receive, to pick her up after school.
“Dog’s pretty easygoing,” he called over his shoulder as he trudged his way through the freshly fallen snow to his front door
. “She might be a little hungry, though. I gave her some hamburger to tide her over.” He unlocked the door and waited for Erin to catch up. “She also seems to have some sort of hip dysplasia. You might want to have a vet check that out.”
“Hip dysplasia? Wonderful,” she said with a touch of frustration. She rubbed her arms for warmth despite her thick woolen peacoat. “Old and crippled. What are the chances of finding her a home within a few days?”
Not good, he communicated with a look.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, following him into the house. At the sound of the door opening, the dog raised her head and peered expectantly into the hallway. As if believing it was her job to greet guests, she struggled to her feet and walked over to them. Erin’s forehead furrowed and her gaze softened ever so slightly. She cast a worried glance his way. “She does seem a bit stiff…is there a vet in town who could look at her?”
Ridiculously relieved, he nodded. “Doc Archer can probably take a look at her first thing in the morning.” At her glance, he explained. “Doc closes shop at noon, and he’s the only vet in town.”
She accepted his answer, but from her expression he could tell she wasn’t pleased. It was clear she wanted her stay in Granite Hills to be as brief as possible and a crippled dog only hindered that plan.
“I figure you’ll be staying out at Caroline’s place?” he said, leaning down to gently click the leash into place and handing it to her.
“No,” she answered, the tone of her voice suggesting the thought was too much to bear. She added hastily, “There’s bound to be a hotel that has a room available. It’ll be easier if I stay in town.”
He frowned and she queried sharply, “What?”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been gone but around this time of year the hotels are all full. Winter Festival. It’s one of our biggest tourist attractions,” he said.
She swore under her breath. Obviously, she hadn’t taken that into consideration. Her voice took on an incredulous tone. “All the hotels? Even Butter-creek?”
“No, that one closed about a year ago. Mr. Grogan died from congestive heart failure and his wife went to live with their daughter over in Ironwood,” he answered, surprised by her stricken expression.
“I hadn’t heard,” she murmured, something, regret perhaps, catching in her throat. “The Grogans were nice people. They used to let me swim in their pool during the summer and Mrs. Grogan always had a small something for me at Christmastime. Well, that’s too bad about the hotel closing. It was a special place.”
He didn’t disagree with her. Danni had learned to swim in the Grogans’ pool. When Cappy Grogan died, he’d been one of the pallbearers.
Eyes suddenly clearing, Erin looked down at the dog, who was watching the exchange with a soft intelligence that was almost startling, and reluctantly relented, though he could tell it was the least desirable option. “I guess it’s back to Caroline’s then…for the time being,” she said, focusing for a moment on the leash in her hand before meeting his gaze again. “Thanks…for taking care of her.”
“No problem,” he answered, noting that the brief smile she offered was pained around the edges. “She’s a good dog. I hope you can find her a good home.”
“Me, too,” she said, sincerity evident in her tone, as she headed toward the door. Suddenly, she paused and twisted to face him wearing a drawn and pinched expression, as if whatever she was about to say tasted bitter on her tongue. “When I used to live here, the Barstow family owned the mortuary…is that still the place to go to make…funeral arrangements?”
He answered her with a short nod, his gut reacting to the almost palpable sense of sorrow that surrounded her like a cloud. She drew a deep breath, as if she needed the extra oxygen for strength, and offered her thanks in a husky murmur before turning and leading the old dog carefully down the snow-covered steps to the front walk. Within minutes they were gone.
He stared after the retreating back end of the Tahoe and pressed his lips together in silent commiseration. He didn’t envy her homecoming.
What had gone wrong between her and her father? He only knew Charlie McNulty in a peripheral fashion but the man seemed harmless enough. He’d picked him up a few times when Charlie had had one too many, but it’d been a while since he’d had to do that. Someone had said something about Charlie finally joining AA. He chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip. After years of more than likely driving drunk, Charlie McNulty got in a wreck stone-cold sober. The irony was tragic.
Locking up quickly, he returned to the station, detouring briefly to grab a cup of coffee from the carafe that some blessed, probably underpaid, junior officer kept gurgling at all hours of the night, before making his way back to his desk.
“Sorry to hear about Danni,” he heard Max Stubberd, a patrol officer, call out as he walked by. Colin acknowledged the man with a nod. He was sorry, too.
Sipping his coffee, he winced just a little as his muscles protested his early-morning snow shovel duty. He supposed he could pay someone to do it but it seemed like throwing away good money when he was just as capable. He rotated his shoulder and stretched the muscle. As much as he hated to admit it, paying someone was beginning to have some appeal. Reaching in his bottom drawer for a bottle of aspirin, the voice of Detective Leslie O’Bannon, a native of Granite Hills and one of his good friends, sounded at his shoulder.
“Here’s that supplemental from the state trooper, Col,” Leslie said, handing him the two-page report. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the partition separating their desks, her expression solemn. “So, you were the first on the scene, huh? Pretty bad, I take it?”
He nodded. “One of the worst I’ve seen in a long time. Caroline Walker died on scene, poor gal, and Charlie’s over in the ICU at GH Medical.”
“Think he’s going to make it?”
“Hard to say. He’s pretty banged up.”
“Man, can you imagine going sober after all those years only to have this happen? Doesn’t seem fair.” She shook her head. “Caroline was about the sweetest person I’d ever known, too. I remember she used to volunteer at the schools when I went to Granite Hills Elementary, always brought homemade cookies for the holidays. Every kid went home with a small bag of goodies.” Leslie frowned at the memory. “Geez, she must’ve been baking for days, but she never complained. In fact, she always seemed to enjoy doing something for everyone.” She was quiet for a moment, her expression full of sorrow. “What a crying shame….”
Colin nodded in agreement. Caroline would surely be missed in this town. Leslie sighed, the sound echoing the emotion he felt in his chest at the tragedy. “So, is Erin coming back for the funeral and to take care of her dad?”
Leslie’s inquiry summoned the image of Erin’s shuttered expression when it came to the subject of her father and the corners of his lips twisted. “She’s already in town, but I get the impression that as soon as the funeral is over, she’ll be on the first plane out of here. Seems she and her dad don’t get along so well.”
“Yeah, that family’s had it rough. I guess you can’t blame Erin for wanting to get the hell out of here.”
Leslie’s tone suggested that she knew what Colin was referring to but before he could prompt her for more details, she was paged to the front desk and she turned to leave. “Well, let me know if you need any help,” she said, gesturing to the paperwork before hurrying down the hall.
He knew the offer was made in light of Danni’s escapade and, although he appreciated everyone’s concern, it chafed more than a little that everyone knew his business. He couldn’t hold it against anyone, though. Colin had moved to Granite Hills when Danni had still been in diapers. As a single father, sometimes without daycare to fall back on, Danni had been a frequent visitor to the station. This recent turn of events probably had everyone alarmed, he realized.
Returning to the case in his hand, he grabbed the hospital report to attach to the file and his eyes focused on the BAC levels.
&n
bsp; Totally sober.
He had to admit, he’d been surprised. The discovery certainly begged a few questions.
If the man hadn’t been impaired and, as evidenced by the supplemental report, the roads had been clear, what had sent the old Ford into that tree? He flipped through the medical evaluation, but there was no indication that Charlie had had a stroke or heart attack, no medical reason for him to lose control. Then he thumbed through the state trooper’s report, looking for the skid-mark pattern, but came up empty. Puzzled, he checked again, thinking he might have missed it, until he realized with a perplexed frown that there weren’t any to find. Charlie McNulty had plowed headlong into that birch…for no apparent reason.
What was he looking at?
Something didn’t sit right with Colin about this accident. His mind was moving in circles, but he couldn’t put a voice to his suspicions.
The unanswered questions prevented him from filing the case as closed.
He needed more information, preferably background, to see if he had cause to dig a little deeper. A pair of vivid blue eyes appeared in his mind and an electric thrill followed that was both unexpected and startling. If he hadn’t been annoyed at his own reaction, he might’ve chuckled at the absurdity. Erin McNulty? She was about as warm as the waters in Lake Superior at this time of year. Anyone willing to walk out on family like she was itching to do could use a little help in the compassion department. He’d do well to nip that attraction in the bud. He had enough problems.
From what he could gather from people who’d known Erin’s family, he found that while the McNulty side had been hard workers, they played equally as hard. Erin’s mother Rose had come from an upper middle class family. Rose Rawlins’s father had been a businessman, and her mother a homemaker, but both had perished in a house fire when Rose had been seventeen. Rose had been sleeping over at a friend’s house when it happened. It seems that family was a magnet for trouble.
Colin sat back in his chair, his thoughts returning to Erin. He supposed he was still caught off guard by how different she was. Though he had to admit his assumptions had been ridiculous. What had he expected? A wild-haired, younger version of Charlie? He snorted—well, she was anything but that. She was sleek and refined, whereas Charlie was coarse and crabby. The differences raised more questions than they answered.
The Truth About Family Page 4