“This was done by a high-school student, Sierra Buck,” she said, smiling with pride.
“A kid did this?”
“Well, she started it in her senior year and finished it before she went to college. It was therapeutic for her.”
He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“She’d been attacked by the same serial rapist who attacked Iris. This mural was part of her healing journey.”
Angelo digested the information, and just when she thought his silence meant he wasn’t interested in anything unless it pertained to the case, he asked, “Is she okay? The girl?”
“She is still healing emotionally but she’s doing quite well in college. She’s majoring in criminal law. She wants to make a difference in the world and we’re all very proud of her.”
He nodded, and it was as if the information was both a relief and a burden to him. He moved away and gestured to get back on track. “Where can we find Randy?”
Mya withheld a private sigh. Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected. It wasn’t as if he was going to suddenly see what he’d refused to see for as long as he was a resident on the reservation. She pointed to the office directly in front of them. Angelo nodded and walked briskly to the closed door. He rapped twice and then strode inside.
No polite waiting for an invitation to enter, no awaiting someone else’s convenience.
A smile found its way to Mya’s lips. He still hadn’t learned the value of simple tact or persuasion. In some ways, he was much like Sundance.
She followed and the smile remained, only she let Angelo assume the smile was directed toward Randy.
Let the man think what he wanted.
Her grandmother used to tell her, a woman needn’t always reveal the secrets of her heart.
And her grandmother had been a very wise woman.
Chapter 18
Randy Willets looked nearly the same as Angelo remembered from his youth, only now the older man’s stomach hung low over his beaded belt buckle and the buttons on his expensive shirt strained to keep his girth contained.
Randy’s brows rose in surprise. “Angelo Tucker? Is that you?” Angelo nodded in answer and Randy stiffened imperceptibly. “What are you doing here? I thought when you left you weren’t coming back.” He shot a look at the man he had been talking to, which Angelo capitalized on, extending his hand to the stranger.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said to Randy but looking straight at the other man. “Special Agent Angelo Tucker, actually. And you are…?”
The man, roughly the same age as Randy and dressed with a sharper sense of style, accepted the handshake, but there was a wariness to his stare as he answered, “Joseph Reynolds. A pleasure.”
“Joseph is my cousin and business partner and he was just leaving,” Randy said curtly.
“Cousin? I don’t remember you…did you grow up on the reservation or elsewhere?” Angelo asked, curious.
“Second cousins and no, I grew up in Seattle, but I visited the reservation in my youth. Beautiful place.”
“Yes,” Angelo said, then added with a shrug, “Well, that is, when people aren’t being picked off like flies. Have you heard about that?”
Joseph shifted and shared a look with Randy before returning to Angelo with faint interest. “Yes, I’ve heard there’s been some unfortunate circumstances. Are you investigating?”
“I am.”
“Good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said, then turned to Randy, saying, “I’ll be in touch.”
Angelo moved aside so Joseph could leave and after a long moment he returned his attention to Randy, who looked very unsettled. “It’s hard to do business with family. At least that’s what I’ve heard. You seem tense. Everything all right?”
“Your concern is touching. What can I do for you?” Randy asked, not budging an inch and quite obviously not in a sharing mood. Fine by Angelo.
“Well, as I mentioned to your cousin, I’m investigating the death of a federal agent who died on Hoh soil.”
Randy grunted and leaned back in his chair, his eyes remaining cold. He flicked his gaze to Mya, finally acknowledging her presence. “Nice to see you, Mya.”
“Hello, Randy,” she said with a nice smile, no doubt trying to smooth over the rough edges between him and Randy. “I know you’re busy with the flood data, but we need to talk to you about Darrick.”
Randy frowned. “What about him? He done something?”
“I heard he’s in a mental health facility, his brain messed up from drugs and alcohol,” Angelo said, not pulling any punches.
Randy’s mouth thinned. “Is that why you’ve come? To rub in my face how my son turned out? Does that give you some kind of pleasure?”
“No,” Angelo answered. “It wasn’t Darrick’s fault you were his father.”
“You always were a little prick,” Randy growled, causing Mya to interject with a sharp look thrown Angelo’s way.
“Randy, let’s put aside old grudges for now. The agent who was killed here was actually investigating Waylon’s death, and, as you know, Darrick and Waylon were very close when they were kids. We wondered if you might remember anything the boys were into that might give Angelo some insight as to who might have had a reason to hurt Waylon.”
At the mention of Waylon, Randy’s shoulders sagged just a little. It was a subtle movement but Angelo caught it. The fact that Randy felt anything for Waylon surprised him. He’d always looked down on his son’s friendship with “that Tucker boy,” as he’d called him. In fact, he’d probably been the only person on the reservation who hadn’t had a soft spot for Waylon.
“Darrick and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. He didn’t share his private business with me,” Randy said, looking away. Was that guilt in his eyes for quitting on his son at such an early juncture in his life? Or was it something else? Randy cleared his throat as if something were caught in it and said, “Anyway, Waylon’s death was long ago. Nobody should start poking around. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
“That sleeping dog was my brother.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Randy said. “Waylon was a good kid.”
“Funny, that’s not how you felt back when he was alive.”
Randy met Angelo’s hard stare without flinching. “People make mistakes. Even me.”
“Gentlemen,” Mya interjected firmly, determined to keep the conversation steered in the right direction. Angelo caught her look of irritation and heard Grace’s admonition in his head. Damn, he was losing objectivity. He needed to get his head on straight if he wanted to remain on the case. “Three people are dead. We need to find out who is committing these terrible crimes so Angelo can stop them. Randy, we need any help you can give us.”
Angelo swallowed his ire and jerked a short nod. “Mya is right. Whoever killed Waylon is likely responsible for killing Agent Hicks and Bunny Roberts. Someone is going to great lengths to make sure something stays buried.”
“Maybe,” Randy allowed, shifting in his chair. “But I don’t know what Darrick has to do with it. He’s incapable of even feeding himself these days. I doubt he’d be able to kill someone.”
“He might know something,” Mya said. “He seems to feel a certain amount of guilt over Waylon’s death. When he was in the clinic the other night he kept saying that it was his fault that Waylon was dead. Do you know why Darrick would feel guilty?”
“They were best friends,” Randy muttered. “I imagine losing your best buddy like that at such a young age… I don’t know. Like I said, Darrick and I have never been close. Whatever he’s feeling, he hasn’t shared with me.”
Angelo swore silently. He’d hoped for some kind of lead, some kind of direction. He fished a business card from his pocket and handed it to Randy. “If you think of anything, give me a call.”
Randy accepted the card, but Angelo was betting it landed in the trash as soon as the door closed behind them.
Mya thanked Randy
for his time and Angelo left her to the niceties. When she emerged from the building, her frown spoke volumes. “Did you have to be so antagonistic?” she asked. “You’re not going to get far with that kind of attitude and you know it. So why are you acting like this? Don’t you want cooperation?”
“Of course I do,” he answered, a bit surly only because he knew she was right. He choked down his bad attitude. It wasn’t Mya’s fault that he had issues with the tribe that dug beneath his skin. “I’m sorry, I lost my head a bit in there.”
“You know, Randy’s been through a lot with Darrick. It’s been a constant struggle since Waylon died. Can you imagine how disappointed and hurt Randy must feel to bear that burden?”
“No heavier than the burden of a dead brother,” Angelo quipped and was immediately sorry. He was doing it again. He shoved his hand through his hair, wondering when he’d lost control of his mouth. To her credit, Mya simply waited out his bad temper. She looked gorgeous, standing there with a no-nonsense expression that should’ve looked stern and austere, but he saw only strength shining in those brown eyes. It was no wonder she bore the weight of the tribe so easily. If anyone should have been chief, it was Mya. He was seized by the desire to pull her into his arms, to feel that lean body pressed against his, to shelter her against the bitter chill that came from the river. But that would only serve to confuse them both, so he kept his hands to himself. “Looks like a trip to see Darrick is next. You up for a short drive?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
She smiled and he nearly stumbled from the shock to his heart. How amazing would it be to have her love again? To have the privilege of waking up beside her every day? To earn the right to call her his woman? A melancholy pain spread through his chest when he realized he’d have better luck wishing on a star than dreaming about a future with Mya.
He’d efficiently severed that tie long ago. Clean and brutal. He had no right to hope for anything but what she was giving right now.
So get focused.
“What do you know about this Joseph Reynolds guy?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’ve only met him a handful of times but he seems like your average business-type person. To my knowledge Randy and Joseph started their textile business in Seattle and they’ve been fairly successful. That’s where Randy made his money. He stayed on the reservation to take care of his parents while Joseph oversaw the day-to-day at the plant.”
“They seemed to be having a disagreement when we walked in.”
Mya nodded. “Randy’s face was flushed. He ought to be careful of his blood pressure. I’ve been after him to take better care of himself. Probably something business-related. The economy has been tough on everyone these days. He shared with me that his company had taken a big hit in the last year because of all the outsourcing to India for textiles.” She sighed, as if feeling sorry for Randy and his troubles. “Anyway, I get the sense that Randy and Joseph have always butted heads but they remain tied to the business. I doubt they’re close, even if they’re related.”
Angelo tucked that piece of information away for later and returned to the situation at hand.
Mya had to question what she was doing. She should’ve given Angelo directions to the mental health facility and then returned to work, but knowing the clinic was in good hands lessened her urgency and freed her to make decisions that were probably unhealthy in the long run.
The truth was, she enjoyed spending time with Angelo. After all the years they’d been apart, she would have thought that the feelings she’d had for the man would have turned to ash a long time ago, but that wasn’t the case. Having sex with him certainly hadn’t helped. Iris had been right. Perhaps her feelings for Angelo weren’t quite dead after all. She thought of Porter and how unfair she’d been to allow him to think they had more of a connection than they did. She must’ve sighed because Angelo turned and called her on it.
“You okay?”
She nodded, not quite sure she was ready to have that conversation with Angelo.
“I’m sorry I overreacted with Randy,” he said, staring back at the road. “You know, when I was a kid, I was constantly trying to outrun the reputation of my parents as no-good losers. It’s like no one could look past their actions and see me and Waylon for the individuals we were. It’s what I hated most about this place.”
“Angelo, not everyone saw you and Waylon that way,” she said gently, remembering Angelo’s struggle. “Your grandfather was a very good man. People respected him as an elder. It was unfortunate that your parents were trapped in the vicious cycle of alcoholism that so many of our tribe fell into. But you were not judged and neither was Waylon.”
He disagreed, shaking his head sharply. “No. Randy Willets always looked down his nose at us. He never liked Waylon and Darrick’s friendship for the simple reason that we didn’t have money.”
“Randy Willets was a snob back then. He’s changed,” she said. “I think watching your own flesh and blood disintegrate changes you. He’d probably do anything to be able to make different decisions that would change how everything turned out. He has his own demons, too.”
Angelo let that statement sit between them for a long moment until he grudgingly saw her point. “Yeah, I suppose we’d all make different choices if given the chance.”
She couldn’t resist and it was selfish of her but she asked, “Even you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Isn’t it obvious?”
The breath seemed to catch in her chest and she struggled to remain impassive on the outside when inside her heart had begun to beat erratically. “Nothing is ever obvious with you. You left without warning. I’d had no clue you were thinking of abandoning us all.”
“Mya, I’d been telling you I wanted to leave for months. That I was miserable here. You’re the one who didn’t want to leave, so I figured it was best to cut ties before it became too painful for us both. I figured you’d marry and have kids and leave my memory far behind. I wanted you to, actually. I didn’t want you to eventually resent me for not sharing your love for the reservation.”
She tried not to let it but the memory of that morning came crashing back. Her nose tingled as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back, determined not to cry in front of Angelo. “You didn’t give me the chance to make that decision. Maybe I would’ve left with you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I wasn’t in a good place emotionally. I was really angry and bitter. I wouldn’t have been a good partner. Eventually you would’ve left and resented me anyway.”
“It wasn’t your place to make my decision for me,” she said stiffly, hating that the mere mention of that time broke her calm. Her hands drifted to her belly before she realized it with a start and resolutely crossed her arms across her chest. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past. Let’s stay focused on the present.”
“I’m sorry, Mya,” he said, his tone truly apologetic. She risked catching his gaze. There was sadness and regret in those eyes—and it didn’t help her resolve. “I was a young kid, hot-blooded and angry, not the best combination. I should’ve given you the chance to come with me.”
She choked back the rising lump in her throat. How many years had she longed to hear those words? Too many. And now? What did it mean? Nothing. They were simply words meant to soothe an old injury. She jerked a nod, wishing he’d stop talking. Silence was infinitely better than this soul-searching. But instead, her own traitorous mouth started talking, revealing too much. “I had something to tell you,” she said, barely able to hold back the tears. “Something important.”
“When?”
“The day you left,” she admitted, remembering. “I found your note and I thought you were just blowing off steam. I never imagined that you would disappear.”
Angelo looked shamed. “I thought about calling, to let you know where’d I be, but it seemed less painful to deliver a clean cut.”
A clean cut? That’s what he felt he’d delivered? Hardly. It’d felt as
though someone had sawed off her limb with a dull blade. But that pain had been paltry in comparison to the agony that would follow shortly after.
“Tell me now,” he said, trying to make amends, but he had no idea what he was trying to heal. “I want to know.”
“It’s over and done. I don’t really want to dredge it up.”
“Please.”
That plea nudged her in the wrong direction. Her bottom lip had begun to quiver and a tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Alarmed, he reached out to her but she jerked away. “Mya,” he said, concerned. “I have to know, what were you going to tell me? Something is eating at you and the least I can do is try to make amends here, now. I’m listening.”
“It’s silly that I’m still so affected by it,” she said, wiping at her tears with ill-disguised disgust with herself. “I mean, it was so long ago. But each time I get near the memory, I crumble. It’s… I don’t know, maybe I need therapy.”
Angelo pulled onto the shoulder and put the car in Park. He turned to her and pinned her with that dark gaze so that even if she’d tried she couldn’t get away from his intense stare. “Did someone hurt you?” he demanded, jumping to the wrong conclusion. A near hysterical laugh bubbled out of her throat, further confusing him. “Mya?”
This was it. She had to tell him. Fifteen years was a long time to carry her pain alone, but she had never imagined this was the way it would come out, with her sitting across from him, holding back a nervous breakdown, while they were on a trip to talk to a crazy man. He said her name again, only this time with more urgency, his eyes turning black from the conclusions he was drawing. She crumpled, dropping her face into her hands, unable to look at him a moment longer. “I was pregnant. I was going to tell you that I was pregnant.”
Chapter 19
Angelo stared, unable to comprehend what Mya had just said. “What do you mean?” he asked dumbly, and she lifted her head to regard him with red-rimmed eyes and cheeks streaked with tears. He regretted the stupid question, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around her admission. His mind quickly put the remaining pieces together. “What happened?”
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