Protecting His Secret Son

by Laura Scott

  And where was Duncan? What was going on?

  Her brother was a cop and she knew that often meant being called in to work after hours. But why wasn’t he taking her calls? Why were they going straight to voice mail?

  Questions only Duncan could answer.

  She also couldn’t figure out why Mike had been on the scene of the shooting so quickly. Was it possible he’d actually bought the house next to her brother’s? No, that seemed highly unlikely. Four years ago, Mike had made his feelings for her brother crystal clear and she had no reason to doubt that anything had changed over time.

  But she had seen Mike going down the driveway into the street in an attempt to hit the car speeding away.

  She shot a guilty glance back at Brodie, whose brown eyes were drooping sleepily despite the early-evening hour of seven thirty. No doubt, the poor kid was tuckered out between visiting his grandfather in the hospital and the most recent scare.

  The driver’s door opened, startling her. She put a hand over her galloping heart for a moment, then went back to twisting her fingers in her lap. “Find a room?”

  “Two connecting rooms,” he corrected. He started the car, made a sweep of the small parking lot and pulled up in front of room number nine. “We have nine and ten.”

  “We?” She hated the betraying squeak of alarm in her voice. “Why would you stay here, too?”

  “Because you and the kid are both in danger, or has that fact not sunk in yet?”

  She bit back a terse retort, unwilling to argue with him in front of Brodie. Yes, she knew she was in danger, but she didn’t understand why.

  She battled the surge of panic. She and Brodie were safe now, and she could handle Mike. He was just a man she’d once loved, but that was before he’d accused her father and brother of being dirty cops.

  Pushing open her door, she slid out and then opened the back door to reach Brodie.

  “Mommy?” His chubby fists rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

  “We’re staying overnight in a motel. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” She unbuckled the straps holding him in and lifted him out of the seat with a muffled groan. Her son was big for his age, growing out of his clothes faster than she could buy them.

  “Can we go swimming?” Brodie asked.

  “I don’t think so. But there’s probably a kid’s channel on the television.” She set him on his feet. He was quick and prone to rushing off, so she firmly grasped his hand and then eyed Mike. “Which room is mine?”

  “Number ten.” Mike handed over a plastic keycard. “But I’d like you to keep the connecting door between our rooms open, in case things go south.”

  That was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Silently, she took the key and slid it into the door, unlocking it. She stepped over the threshold and felt along the wall for a light switch.

  A pale yellow glow filled the room, revealing two double-size beds, a small table and two wooden chairs. A waist-high dresser ran the length of the room with a medium-size television sitting on top of it. The space was larger than she’d anticipated and nicer, as if it had been recently updated. She urged Brodie inside, frowning when Mike followed.

  “Hey,” she protested when he crossed over to unlock her side of the connecting doors.

  “I need to be able to reach you if there’s any trouble,” he repeated without showing signs of impatience. “I promise not to infringe on your privacy.”

  Once again, he was probably right, but his tendency to issue orders—as if he were a drill sergeant and she were a lowly soldier—didn’t sit well. She’d forgotten how bossy he could be.

  Except four years ago he hadn’t been as prone to barking orders.

  He’d been sweet, kind and caring...devastated after the fight with his father over turning down a position with the Milwaukee Police Department after graduating from the academy.

  “What else are you not telling me?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Nothing!” She hoped her cheeks weren’t flush with guilt. “I don’t know where Duncan is or where he normally hangs out.” She turned on the television to help keep Brodie occupied. “Why don’t you tell me why you were so Johnny-on-the-spot, parked next to Duncan’s house in the first place?”

  There was a brief flash of guilt in his green eyes but his expression remained impassive. “I was waiting for your brother.”

  The blunt answer surprised her. “Why?”

  “To confront him about his illegal activities.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Same song and dance, Mike? Aren’t you tired of it yet?” She waved a hand and turned away. “Never mind. As you so rudely put it the last time we spoke, there’s nothing more to discuss.”

  “Shayla, someone tried to shoot you outside Duncan’s house. Doesn’t that tell you something? Your brother’s in trouble.”

  “The shot was aimed at me, not my brother. And did it ever occur to you that Duncan could be working undercover? That he’s in danger because of a case he’s working on? That maybe the attempt on me was a way to seek revenge against him?”

  Mike didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Anything is possible.” The way he said it didn’t give her the impression he really believed it. He moved toward the door. “I need to make a few calls, but holler if you need something, okay?”

  Ironically, despite her irritation over the connecting doors between their rooms, she suddenly didn’t want him to leave. “Mike?”

  “Yeah?” He paused and looked at her over his shoulder.

  The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not like this. She needed to wait until her son was asleep before uttering a deep, emotional confession. Her stomach rolled and she forced a smile. “Never mind. Good night.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a nod. “Good night.”

  He left, softly closing the door behind him. Her knees were shaky and weak, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

  How was it possible he didn’t know, or suspect, that Brodie was his son?

  TWO

  Mike’s first call was to his buddy Hawk Jacobson. Hawk was another private investigator, and while they both preferred working alone, they also helped each other out on occasion.

  “What?” Hawk answered.

  “I need help.”

  “Again?” Hawk’s tone was dry.

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll return the favor.”

  “Except that I don’t get into trouble the way your family tends to.”

  Difficult to argue that one. Each of his siblings had a career in some kind of law enforcement and had been in danger more times than he could count over the past few years. Hawk’s assistance had been instrumental in proving his brother’s innocence when Mitch had been framed for murder last year.

  “I heard Duncan O’Hare hasn’t been seen since noon. It’s too early to file a missing-persons report, but I have reason to believe he’s in trouble. Any chance you can find out more? He has a partner, doesn’t he? A guy named Peter Fresno?”

  Mike could hear the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. “Yeah,” Hawk agreed. “Peter Fresno is O’Hare’s partner, working out of the fifth district.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  Hawk snorted. “Good luck. Getting the address of a cop is nearly impossible. They protect that information closer than Fort Knox protects gold.”

  “Not if I can find another cop to provide that info to me.” Mike had two brothers and a brother-in-law who were all Milwaukee cops. He didn’t like asking them to break their code of ethics, but the lives of an innocent woman and her son were on the line. In his opinion, that trumped work ethics. “Anything you can find out would be helpful.”

  “Okay.” Hawk disconnected from the line.

&
nbsp; Mike sat for a moment, staring at his phone, debating who to call. His brother Miles was a homicide investigator. His brother Matt was a K-9 officer and his sister Maddy’s husband, Noah, had just taken his detective exam, earning himself a gold shield.

  May as well start at the top, he thought, scrolling through his contact list to find Miles. His brother answered almost immediately. “What’s up?”

  Mike sighed. “I guess it’s my turn to need assistance.”

  “Hey, man, don’t take it so hard. It was only a matter of time,” Miles said in a consoling tone.

  Mike couldn’t help but chuckle. Hawk was right—the Callahans did have a way of getting into the middle of danger. “It’s not really me, but a friend. A woman and her son.”

  “Really?” Miles’s voice rose with interest. “Tell me more.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. Now that all the other Callahans were married and having kids, he was the only single guy left. A fact his family never let him forget. “Knock it off. I was keeping an eye on a suspect’s house when I witnessed an attempt to kill a woman and her child. I was able to prevent that from happening and am now keeping her safe.”

  “Did you report it?” Miles asked.

  “I’m reporting it to you right now. Because I trust you, Miles.” And he didn’t trust all of the cops on the force. “Unfortunately the car involved in the drive-by shooting took off and I didn’t get a plate number. There may be shells or bullet fragments on the scene, so you need to send a few uniforms over to Duncan O’Hare’s house to check it out.”

  “O’Hare?” Miles voice rose sharply. “The son of the police chief? That O’Hare?”

  “Yeah. And his daughter, Shayla, was the intended victim.”

  Miles whistled. “This has to go straight to the top, Mike.”

  Exactly what he was trying to avoid. “You do what you need to do. But I’m working the case my way, and there’s a guy I need to talk to. Peter Fresno. He’s an MPD cop working out of the fifth district. I need his contact information, address and phone number.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Mike knew he was asking a lot and if Miles couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help him, he wasn’t so sure Matt or Noah would, either.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Miles finally said. “You think Duncan’s partner is responsible for the shooting?”

  “No, I don’t. But he may have information that can help.”

  “You’re skating on the edge here, bro. You used to date Shayla, didn’t you? Are you sure you’re not letting your emotions cloud your judgment?”

  Maybe, he silently admitted. Shayla and Brodie were the true innocents in this mess. “Look, two days ago I witnessed a meeting between Duncan O’Hare and the alleged leader of the Dark Knights, Lane Walters. I’m telling you, O’Hare has crossed over to the dark side.”

  “The chief’s son? A dirty cop? Seriously? You better have hard-core proof to back up an allegation like that.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I need your help.” Mike paused and then added, “I’ve never asked you for this kind of favor before, Miles. You know how much I prefer to work alone. This is critical or I wouldn’t ask now.”

  Miles let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll call you back in a few.” Miles clicked off and Mike stared down at his phone once again.

  The case was important but his thoughts kept returning to Shayla, the woman he’d once loved, and her son.

  For a brief moment he’d thought the boy was his, but the math didn’t add up. Four years ago, the night he’d left the academy and his father had practically disowned him, he’d turned his back on his faith and his family, seeking solace in Shayla’s arms.

  They’d been seeing each other for six months by then and, knowing they’d gone too far, Mike hadn’t hesitated in asking her to marry him. He’d been ecstatic when she’d agreed. They’d secretly made plans to go to the courthouse, but a week later his father was murdered. Ian O’Hare had instantly been appointed interim and then permanent chief of police.

  From that moment on, especially after he’d heard Duncan and Ian talking about secretly supporting the Dark Knights, Mike had become obsessed with learning the truth.

  An obsession that had torn him and Shayla apart.

  But there was no sense in rehashing the past. Keeping Shayla safe was his priority. Hearing that she wasn’t running from the boy’s father had been slightly reassuring. But he still thought it was strange that the guy had let her drive from Nashville to Milwaukee alone, especially knowing that her father was sick in the hospital. Shouldn’t he be here, supporting her?

  Unless the guy was already out of the picture? Divorce or death... He winced and inwardly shrugged. As Shayla pointed out, her personal life was none of his business.

  He rose and crossed the room to listen intently at the connecting door. There was nothing unusual past the muted sounds of the television.

  He was about to step over the threshold to question her more about Brodie’s father when his phone buzzed and Hawk’s name popped up on the screen.

  “What did you find out?” Mike asked.

  “Not much. Apparently, Duncan’s been off work for a couple of days.”

  That made sense based on his father’s upcoming surgery. “Anything else?”

  “No squawking about illegal activity, if that’s what you mean. But we wouldn’t hear even if there was a hint of scandal. Cops don’t like to advertise when one of their own might be dirty.”

  “True, especially not the police chief’s son.” The task he faced suddenly seemed insurmountable. He did his best to shake off the impending sense of doom. “Hawk, would you do something else for me?”

  The PI heaved a loud sigh. “Now what?”

  “Dig into the background of a woman named Shayla O’Hare and a four-or five-year-old boy named Brodie.”

  “The sister? Why?”

  “She’s in danger and claims she doesn’t know why. Denies she’s running from the boy’s father, but I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

  “Why not?” Hawk once again abruptly disconnected. The guy didn’t like to use words like hello or goodbye, but Mike was used to it.

  His phone rang again. This time it was Miles. “That was fast,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, well it’s my turn to put Adam to bed so I have to make this quick. I was able to get Pete’s address and a cell number.” Miles rattled off the information as Mike scribbled it down on the motel notepad with a stubby pencil.

  “How is Adam? Sleeping through the night?”

  “Most of the time, but he’s teething again so it’s a toss-up whether or not he will this week.” Pride was evident in his brother’s tone. Miles and his wife, Paige, had two kids—Abby, who was seven, and Adam, who’d just turned one. Rumor had it that Miles and Paige were trying for baby number three, which was unfathomable.

  Just because Mike and his siblings came from a family of six kids didn’t mean they each needed to have the same number of children. But try telling his brothers and sister that. It seemed the Callahans were determined to populate the city.

  Except for him. After his relationship with Shayla had disintegrated beyond repair, he’d focused on nothing more than finding the man responsible for his father’s murder.

  Besides, he wasn’t interested in opening himself up to being hurt like that again. Not after the way Shayla had shattered his heart.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Miles continued, breaking into his thoughts. “The cops were already out at Duncan’s place, someone reported the sound of gunfire. But they haven’t found much.”

  “Not even a bullet fragment? That seems unlikely.”

  “It’s early in the investigation,” Miles pointed out. “But you also need to know there’s a report of a black SUV fleeing the scene. I’m sure that was you, right?”

  “Yep.
”

  “No license plate number, but you might want to consider changing your vehicle, just to be safe.”

  “Okay, thanks. I appreciate the intel.”

  There was a slight pause then, “Mike?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is this about Dad’s murder?”

  He hesitated. “Honestly? I think so, but have no proof.” Yet.

  Another pause. “I need you to be careful, okay?” Miles finally said. “And don’t forget we’re here if you need us. After all, our motto is that family sticks together. Don’t shut us out. We all want to find the truth behind Dad’s murder.”

  “I know.” Mike was touched by his brother’s offer. His siblings knew he was a bit of a lone wolf, forging his own path in the world. Which was exactly why he and his father had got into that fateful argument a week before his murder. His father had railed at him for being selfish, for not giving back to the community. Mike had tried to explain that he’d changed his mind. That he didn’t want to wait to become a detective—that he’d wanted to do that now. But his father hadn’t listened. And rather than try to talk it through, Mike had walked away, turned his back on his family and his faith.

  The last words he’d said to his father had been in anger. After the murder, Mike had been assailed by guilt, desperately wishing he’d taken the opportunity to tell his dad he was sorry. That he loved him.

  Something that still bothered him every single day.

  Months later, after he’d come back to his family and his faith, he’d prayed that his father knew that he was sorry for the way they’d parted that day.

  And hoped his father would forgive him.

  “Mike?” Miles’s voice brought his attention back to the present.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Miles. I won’t forget.”

  “Later, then.” Miles hung up, leaving Mike to wonder how he should approach the new information. He wanted nothing more than to head right over to talk to Peter Fresno, yet at the same time the idea that his SUV might have been seen leaving Duncan’s house nagged at him.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d asked Hawk to swap rides. He could always use one of his undercover identities to rent a different vehicle, too. It wasn’t illegal to have an alternate ID as long as he didn’t commit a crime while using it. He debated between doing something tonight or waiting until the morning.