So This Is Love

by Barbara Freethy

  * * *

  Max watched Emma enter the still burning building. He couldn't help but admire her courage. The fire was under control, but it wasn't out, and part of the roof had already collapsed, but there was no hesitation in her step. She was a woman on a mission. He wished he could have gone inside with her, but he would have to wait, and he hated to wait. He also hated the fact that Emma would get first crack at the crime scene, but she knew what she was doing, and her goal was to preserve as much evidence as she possibly could. Hopefully, that evidence would take them both in the right direction.

  Glancing down at his watch, he realized it was four-thirty in the morning. There was nothing more for him to do at the moment. He would wait until the medical examiner gave him official identification before notifying Sister's Margaret's family. That wouldn't happen before tomorrow. He also wouldn't be able to get inside Brady's for a few more hours. He might as well go home and grab a couple of hours sleep. He had a big day ahead, and he was nowhere near ready for it.

  After returning to his apartment, he tumbled into bed. Unfortunately, his mind was too worked up to let him rest. Whenever he caught a new case, he had a rush of adrenaline, and Sister Margaret's death had sent a million questions racing through his brain. He'd originally taken on the case as a favor to his mentor Captain Hank Crowley. Hank had known Sister Margaret for years and he hadn't wanted to dump the case onto an already overloaded missing persons detail, so he'd asked Max to investigate.

  He'd spent a lot of time interviewing the nun's friends and family since her disappearance, and he'd been hoping for a different outcome. Now that the worst had come true, his investigation would continue in a new direction. Hopefully they would find some DNA or some clue as to who had killed her, if, in fact, someone had killed her.

  While he appreciated Emma's staunch defense of her former teacher, he couldn't overlook the fact that she'd disappeared right before a fire at her place of employment and now had turned up dead in yet another suspicious fire. If she wasn't the arsonist, she was tied to him or her in some significant way. He just had to figure out the connection.

  After three hours of tossing and turning, he took a shower, grabbed some coffee and headed to his mother's house. He arrived at exactly eight a.m. as promised. The front door was open, and as soon as he pulled up, his mom was out of the house and locking the door behind her. She was eager to get on the road. He didn't feel nearly as enthusiastic.

  As she walked down the stairs, he couldn't help thinking that she looked more energetic and put together than she had in a long time. She'd lightened her brown hair with blonde highlights and exchanged her usual jeans and sweaters for black slacks and a gray blazer. As she got into the car there was a sparkle in her brown eyes, making her look younger than her fifty-six years. Susan Harrison had been reborn into someone with optimism and energy. He barely recognized her from the tired, weepy, depressed woman she'd been for most of the last two decades.

  "I didn't think this day would ever come," she said, as she fastened her seatbelt. "It feels like a lifetime."

  It could have been an actual lifetime, he thought, as he put the car back into drive, but fortunately for his brother, the murder charge had been dropped to manslaughter.

  "I bought all your brother's favorite foods," his mom continued. "Dinner tonight will be roast beef, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables, followed by apple pie and ice cream. I haven't cooked like this in years. It felt strange to go to the supermarket and buy for more than one person."

  "I'm sure Spencer will love whatever you put on the table."

  "You'll come to dinner, too," she said.

  "I don't know if I can."

  She shot him a dark look. "Don't be ridiculous, Max. This is the first night in forever that we'll be able to eat as a family again. Of course you're coming to dinner. We have a lot to talk about." She drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I hope Spencer is all right. I hate to think of what he's had to go through in that terrible place. I hope prison hasn't damaged him forever."

  He hoped the same thing, but he had his doubts.

  "I wish we were there already," his mom said. "I can't wait to get my boy home."

  He didn't bother to reply, knowing his mother was lost in anticipation of a happy family reunion. His older brother had always been her favorite. Spencer had been twelve when their father took off, and his mom had turned her oldest son into the man of the family. At eight, he hadn't been able to offer her the kind of support she needed. But Spencer had stepped up to the challenge.

  Max had looked up to his older brother, too. Later on, as an adult, he'd come to realize that his hero had a few flaws, but he doubted his mother had ever come to that realization. She'd always seen the best in Spencer.

  "You're not saying much, Max." His mother gave him a warning look. "I don't want anything to mar this day, so if you've got something negative to say, say it now, before we pick up Spencer."

  "I don't have anything negative to say."

  "Good. I know things have been complicated and awkward between us all. But we're family, and we're going to be together again, and that's all that matters."

  "You're right." He just hoped Spencer would be able to let go of his anger and move on.

  Chapter Three

  Emma entered the kitchen Monday morning, bleary-eyed and exhausted after spending the night digging through the ashes of Brady's Bar and Grill. Her mom and dad were seated at the table along with her older brother, Drew.

  Her mother immediately rose and pulled out a chair at the table. "Sit," she said. "You look exhausted."

  Emma didn't have to be asked twice. She sank into a chair and glanced across the table at her father. "I guess you heard about Brady's?"

  Jack nodded, his expression somber. "I spoke to Harry about an hour ago. He's devastated. He could barely speak. His voice was shaking with emotion. I haven't heard him like that since his wife left, and that was twenty years ago."

  "Is he all right? I heard he might have had a heart attack."

  "Fortunately, he didn't. It was just the stress of the moment. He's home now, resting. Christian is with him. Robert is on his way. We need to find the person who did this, Emma. This was a full out assault on one of our own."

  "I know." She suddenly realized how much added pressure would be coming her way.

  "Let me know if you need more resources. The investigative unit is short-staffed right now."

  "I can handle it."

  "If you change your mind—"

  "I'll let my boss know, and he'll let you know. First things first. I need to speak to Harry. When I called the house, Christian told me he was sleeping."

  "Harry told me he doesn't know anything. He can't imagine who would want to burn down the bar. He said he was the last person to leave, and he didn't see anyone on his way out."

  "There was no forced entry, so I need to know who else has access to the building." She paused. "But first I need to take a shower and maybe get some food." She gave her mom a hopeful look.

  "I'll make you some eggs," Lynda said with a smile. "Scrambled okay?"

  "Perfect."

  "I have to get to work," her father said, as he got to his feet. "Drew—we'll talk later?"

  Her brother nodded. "Sure."

  As Jack left the room, she glanced across the table at her brother. Drew had brown hair like the rest of the males in the family but his eyes were brown, not blue, and today his gaze was filled with dark shadows. She wondered what had brought him home. He didn't spend much time at the house. He lived across the bay and worked long hours flying helicopters for the Coast Guard.

  "What were you and Dad talking about?" she asked.

  Drew picked up a mug of coffee and took a sip. "None of your business."

  "You know that when you tell me that it only makes me more curious."

  Her mother set down a tall glass of orange juice in front of her. "Do you want bacon and toast, too, honey?"

  "That would be awesome, M
om."

  "Spoiled brat," Drew muttered with a smile that belied his harsh words.

  "One of the benefits of living at home."

  "Aren't you a little old to be living with your parents?"

  "Don't tease her," Lynda interjected. "Emma can stay as long as she wants."

  "How long will that be?" Drew asked.

  "Not too much longer," she said, surprising both him and her mother.

  "Really?" her mother asked, as she broke some eggs into a bowl. "I didn't realize you were thinking of leaving, Emma."

  "I saw some apartments on Saturday that looked good. I put in an application on one. I should hear today."

  "I'll miss having you around," her mother said. "It's been nice."

  "It has been nice." She'd been emotionally shaken by her break-up with Jon, and being able to live at home for a few months had helped her heal. But she needed to make a life for herself.

  "Well, you don't have to rush," her mom added. "Find something that's right for you."

  "I plan on it."

  "Where are you looking?" Drew asked.

  "Hayes Valley, maybe the Marina if I can afford it. So what are you doing here, Drew?"

  Drew ran a hand through his short hair, and there was an odd, strained expression on his face.

  "Just checking in with the family," he said.

  "Really?" she asked doubtfully.

  Before he could reply, her mother set down her breakfast. "I need to run over to Nicole's house. She found Brandon a new doctor, and she wants me to go with her."

  "Another new doctor?" Drew asked. "How many has she been to?"

  "Your sister is determined to find the right physician for Brandon," Lynda said. "I'll see you both later."

  "Thanks for breakfast, Mom," Emma said.

  "Anytime, honey. You look tired. I hope you can nap for a few hours before you go back to work."

  "I'm going to try." As her mother left the room, she turned back to her brother. "We missed you at Dad's party last night. Where were you?"

  "I had things to do."

  "Why are you being so vague today?"

  "Why are you being so nosy?"

  "Because I'm always nosy. You know that."

  He grinned. "I'd forgotten."

  "So, talk."

  He hesitated. "Have you ever had one of those weird moments where you think you recognize someone but you don't know for sure?"

  His question was not what she'd expected. "Who did you see?"

  "Someone I thought I knew."

  She took a bite of her scrambled eggs. Her mom had added onions, avocado and cheese into the scramble. "This is so good. I'd offer you some, but I'm starving."

  "I already ate."

  "So, this person you thought you saw—what's the mystery? And don't try to tell me there isn't one."

  A long silence followed her words, which didn’t surprise her. Drew had always been one to keep his own counsel.

  "I believed she was dead," he said finally. "In fact, I know she was dead. There was a death certificate, an obituary, a funeral." He shook his head. "It had to be someone who just looked like her. Or my mind is playing tricks on me."

  "Who was she, Drew? A girlfriend?"

  "No," he said quickly. "She was…"

  "What?" she prodded when his voice drifted away.

  "Just someone I knew for a very short time."

  "She obviously made an impression on you though."

  "Because I didn't save her. It was my fault she died." His eyes filled with remembered pain.

  She didn't know how to respond. Drew had worked in search and rescue, first for the Navy and then for the Coast Guard. And he'd never shared his work with her, or anyone really. That wasn't his style.

  "Forget it," he said. "I don't know why I told you."

  "Because you needed to tell someone. They say everyone has a twin. Maybe the person you saw was a relative."

  "Yeah, maybe." He took another sip of his coffee and then set it down.

  "I can help," she offered. "What was her name?"

  "Thanks, but I don't need your help."

  "I'm a good investigator, Drew."

  "I know that. But you have enough on your plate."

  "I can juggle more than one investigation."

  "Leave it alone, Emma. I need to figure this out for myself."

  "Fine." She took another bite and then said. "Do you remember Sister Margaret?"

  "Of course. I spent a lot of hours with her in detention."

  She put down her fork. "You did?"

  "Sure. Not as many as Aiden though. I think he had his own seat, along with the Morettis. Tony loved playing jokes on the nuns. Why are you asking about Sister Margaret?"

  She hesitated. "It's not official yet, so I shouldn't say anything, but her body was found in the rubble of Brady's Bar."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yes, she disappeared about ten days ago, right before the fire at St. Andrew's."

  "You don't think she was the arsonist, do you?"

  "No, but I'd like to be able to rule it out. Once the medical examiner determines cause of death, that should help."

  Drew's eyes narrowed. "You need to be careful, Emma."

  "Why does everyone keep telling me that?" she asked with annoyance. "I'm always careful, and I know what I'm doing."

  "You don't usually have to deal with murder."

  "It's actually not all that uncommon, although, the fact that the victim is Sister Margaret is more personally disturbing. But it also motivates me. She was such a kind and sweet woman."

  Drew rolled his eyes. "Maybe to you."

  "What does that mean?"

  "She loved the girls, but she was not nice to the boys."

  "I don't remember that."

  "That's because you were never in detention."

  "Because I never did anything wrong. You and Aiden, on the other hand…"

  "It wasn't just us," he said, shaking his head. "She hated all boys. We figured it was because she got dumped at the altar and that's why she became a nun."

  Emma frowned. "I never heard that story."

  "I'm surprised. It was all over the school."

  Perhaps she needed to look at Sister Margaret in a different light.

  Drew stood up. "I'm going to takeoff."

  "If you need my help on your missing woman, let me know."

  "She's not missing; she's dead," he said firmly, as if needing to convince himself as well as her.

  "You've always had good instincts, Drew. You should trust them."

  * * *

  Max felt restless, impatient, unsettled… They'd been waiting for his brother's release for over an hour, and he wanted to get on with it. His mother was getting more worried by the moment, fearful that something bad might happen at this very late hour, and that somehow Spencer would not be released. He had to admit to sharing some of her concern, but he told himself that was just fear talking.

  Adrenaline made him pace back and forth in front of the prison gate. As a cop, he'd sent more than a few people to prison, and as a detective, he'd conducted many prison interviews, but today was different. He wasn't here as a police detective, but as a son and a brother, two roles that he'd failed in the last several years.

  "Why isn't Spencer coming out?" his mother asked.

  "It's just red tape," he reassured her.

  "He has to come home now. It's long past time for him to be free. He should have been out years ago. In fact, he never should have gone to prison in the first place."

  He could see the accusation in his mother's eyes. She'd always believed he could have done more to free his brother. And Spencer believed the same thing.

  "He'll be out soon. We're early. It hasn't been that long."

  "You're always calm. I don't understand how you can be so patient."

  He'd had to be calm growing up in his family. It was the only way he'd been able to survive the drama of his childhood, his father's affairs and subsequent departure, hi
s mother's hysteria and then depression, his brother's short fuse and ability to find trouble wherever he went.

  "I'm confident that he'll be free," he said evenly.

  "You were wrong before. You told me he'd never go to prison at all."

  "Actually, I told you that he could have avoided prison if he'd followed my advice in the first place, which was to go to the police," he corrected.

  "He didn't have a chance to do that. Things were escalating too quickly."

  "We don't need to get into this again."

  "It's easy to look back and say what he should have done, but Spencer was afraid for his girlfriend, and he acted to protect her. I don't understand why the jury didn't believe him. He'd never done anything wrong in his life. But they sent him to jail. That's how your beautiful justice system worked."

  "Stephanie's testimony was damaging. She didn't back up Spencer's story, and the evidence didn't, either."

  "But he didn't intend to kill that man. He acted in self defense." She paused. "Are you working with those detectives now? I wanted you to come back to San Francisco, but I never wanted to see you in the same police department that destroyed your brother's life."

  Max drew in a deep breath. "They've both retired." He couldn't have accepted Hank's offer if it had meant working with the two men who had sent his brother to jail. While he didn't hold them completely responsible, their sloppy investigation had hurt Spencer's case.

  "Well, at least they can't send any more innocent people to jail." She stopped abruptly, her gaze on the prison doors.

  Max felt a wave of relief when Spencer appeared. At six foot three inches, Spencer was two inches taller than him, but he probably weighed thirty pounds less. His blue jeans and gray t-shirt hung loosely on his long, lean lanky frame. Spencer's skin seemed extremely pale against his dark hair. The hours he'd spent outdoors in the last seven years had been minimal.

  As the guard opened the gate, Spencer hesitated, as if he couldn't believe he was about to return to the outside world. Then he straightened his shoulders and moved forward. There were a dozen emotions running through Spencer's eyes, but there wasn't enough time to decipher them before his mother hurled herself into Spencer's arms, hugging him with a tight desperation.