His Unexpected Family

by Patricia Johns

  “Complicated how?” Nina pressed.

  Cora started to fuss, and Emily walked over to take the baby from Nina’s arms, pulling Cora in close for a cuddle. The infant instantly settled, happy to be in Emily’s arms, and Nina went to take over with the tea.

  “He came over yesterday afternoon, and he...we...” How was she supposed to explain this?

  “What happened?” Beth asked. “Did you break up?”

  “We were never together.” Emily laughed bitterly. “How could we break up?”

  The other two women were silent, the only sound the clink of spoon against teapot as Nina added tea leaves, and Emily’s eyes wandered out the window where some drizzling rain was starting to fall.

  “He said he loves me,” Emily finally said softly.

  “Wow!” Beth burst out. “That’s good, right?”

  Emily looked back at her friend with her large pregnant belly and twinkling, expectant eyes. Beth had been married since she graduated from university at twenty-two. She had no idea what it was like to be single at thirty, or to face anything completely alone. She’d always had Howard, either as a boyfriend or a husband. She couldn’t blame Beth for her happiness, though.

  “It doesn’t change anything. He doesn’t want kids, and I do. Isn’t that the same thing that’s been between us the whole time?” Emily looked down at Cora with her big blue eyes and pudgy little hands. They were at an impasse.

  “You are both ridiculously stubborn,” Nina said.

  “I said that before,” Beth agreed.

  “Actually, he’s the ridiculously stubborn one,” Emily replied. “It isn’t my place to change his mind, but he wants to be with us so badly—he just won’t allow himself the pleasure.”

  “Good grief. Do you love him?”

  Emily looked at them mutely, and Beth nodded. “Of course you do.”

  “There’s nothing to do,” Emily said. “I knew I was doing this on my own from the beginning. That is no surprise to me.”

  “You aren’t alone.” Beth stretched as far as she could past her belly and put her hand over Emily’s. “You’ll always have us. Cora is going to be one loved little girl, and Auntie Beth plans to be a big part of her life.”

  Nina grinned. “Don’t forget about Auntie Nina. Someone has to teach that girl to shop.”

  Emily couldn’t help but smile. “I can do this.”

  “Of course you can,” Nina agreed, carrying the pot to the table. “You’re strong, capable, loving and everything that Cora could ever dream of in a mom. You’ll go in there tomorrow, hold your head high and show the judge what a perfect choice Jessica made.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Emily looked down at Cora, whose eyes were drooping tiredly. She leaned her plump cheek against Emily’s shirt, nestling in closer to drift off to sleep. She was getting bigger in her arms now. She remembered not too long ago when the wee thing fit along her forearm comfortably, but now she needed two hands to hold her. She was growing, and she was thriving. More than that, Emily was growing, too—personally and spiritually.

  Tomorrow, she would go into the hearing with a prayer in her heart and ask to be allowed to keep Cora in her life. Would it be enough? Only God knew. All she could do was pray that tonight wasn’t the last night that little Cora would sleep in this house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  That evening, Greg pulled up in front of a large mansion in Rimrock, the wealthiest section of Billings. It was hard to see much detail through the foggy rain, but from what he could tell, it was a three-story affair, brick with white trim. The windows glowed cheerfully, the light from chandeliers sparkling through the cracks in heavy drapery. As he parked his cruiser and turned off the engine, he sent up a quick prayer.

  He’d been praying the entire drive from their little town of Haggerston to Billings, a two-hour commute. It was the same highway that Jessica had driven and died on all those weeks ago, and as he drove he’d poured his heart out to his Father. The solitude was what he needed—solitude and a mission. He needed to do something, fix something. Anything.

  No, not anything, he thought to himself. This.

  Was he wasting his time with this visit? He didn’t know. There was no crime committed for the senator to be wary of, at least no crime that they knew of. There were simply unanswered questions, and the senator may very well not feel like chatting.

  Pushing open the door to his cruiser, he plunged through the rain to the front door and pressed the doorbell. A long, melodious series of chimes rang through the house and he paused, listening. He heard the dead bolt being retracted, and an older woman in a housekeeping uniform opened the door cautiously, peering past a chain.

  “Good evening,” Greg said. “I’m the chief of police in Haggerston, and I’ve come to ask Senator Lindgren a few questions.”

  “Police?” The woman frowned. “One moment, please.”

  The door shut again; there was the scrape of the chain being removed and a couple of seconds later it opened again to allow him entrance. He stepped into a brightly lit foyer with stone tiles and a vaulted ceiling, a crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The senator paused midway down the spiral staircase as he looked around, a paisley dressing gown tied around his waist. He was a fit man in his fifties with iron-gray hair and a smooth tan.

  “How can I help you, Officer?” the senator asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m Chief Greg Taylor, Chief of Police in Haggerston. I’ve come to ask you a few questions. I hope I haven’t disturbed you, sir.” Greg met the senator’s gaze easily.

  “Out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, son?” Senator Lindgren smiled evenly, caution edging his tone.

  “Sure am,” Greg agreed. “I only have a few questions. I was hoping you could help me out with an investigation I’m doing. It shouldn’t take long.”

  The senator seemed to consider for a moment, then he nodded, gesturing toward a room on the main floor. Greg followed his host into a library. It was a cozy room with a gas fireplace, unlit at this time of night, floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves and a bearskin rug on the floor beside several overstuffed leather chairs. It was a comfortable room, a man’s room. A humidor for cigars was set to one side, and a collection of antique rifles decorated one wall.

  “It must be of some importance to bring you out at this time of night,” the senator commented, gesturing for Greg to have a seat.

  “Well, there has been a death,” Greg said, nodding.

  “Who?”

  Greg ignored the question. “I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about Jessica Shaw.”

  The senator narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He was taking his time to consider before answering, something people rarely did. Greg was silently impressed with the man’s control already.

  “What about her?” the senator finally asked.

  “Why were you giving her large sums of money monthly?”

  Senator Lindgren gave a tight smile and looked past Greg to point behind him. “That is between Miss Shaw and myself.”

  “Senator, I have no intention of making trouble for you,” Greg said, his voice low. “I need to have some questions answered, and that is as far as this needs to go. However, if you aren’t going to cooperate with me, I could contact the Billings police to aid me in this. That would get complicated. And official.”

  Senator Lindgren sighed, his eyes suddenly looking very tired. He was getting somewhere. Taking advantage of a sign of weakness, Greg pressed on. “Did you have her followed?”

  “Yes, but that is much worse than it sounds.” The senator shook his head. “I simply had a private detective ensure that she...was doing what she said she would be doing.”

  “Which was?” Greg slid his hands along the smooth leather armrests, watching the older man’s expres
sion turn from exhaustion to wariness once more.

  “She was going home.”

  “I realize that,” Greg said. “And you wanted to make sure she went home?”

  The senator nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It was good for her.”

  “And for you.”

  “Yes, and for me.” The senator leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Son, some things are personal.”

  Greg regarded the older man dubiously. He was smooth, practiced and not easily intimidated. He’d been in politics too long to be susceptible to these interview techniques. He could question and barter all night, and he’d get very little out of the man. It was time to level with him.

  “Senator, Jessica Shaw is dead.”

  Senator Lindgren blinked twice, swallowed, then shook his head. “What?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “When? How?”

  “The same night she drove back to Haggerston.”

  The shock was certainly real, and Greg leaned forward, locking eyes with the older man. “Who was she, Senator? Was she your mistress?”

  “Mistress?” the older man barked out. “Good grief, man, no!”

  The vehemence of the man’s response was a surprise to Greg. He was inclined to believe him, as little sense as that made. Greg waited silently, but when he got nothing else out of the man, he said, “Then who was Jessica Shaw to you?”

  “She was my daughter.” Senator Lindgren stood up and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked distraught, but not grief-stricken, and Greg rolled this new piece of information over in his mind. His daughter? But wasn’t there an Uncle Hank back in Haggerston who was grieving the loss of his only daughter?

  “Forgive me for being dubious,” Greg said slowly. “But are you sure?”

  The older man smiled wanly. “Do I look like a man who would accept paternity lightly?”

  “So you were giving her money to help with the baby?” Greg asked.

  “No, I was giving her money to ensure she’d go away,” he retorted. “I had an affair with her mother thirty years ago. Her mother was briefly separated from her husband, and I met her at an opera. It was a short-lived fling, which ended when she went back to her husband.”

  “And your wife?” Greg asked.

  “Knows nothing of it. It was my one indiscretion. I’ve never been unfaithful since.”

  A lie. Even Mrs. Lindgren knew better than that, but this wasn’t about the sanctity of his marriage, so Greg let it go.

  “So Jessica was a child born from an affair.” Greg frowned. “Did her mother tell her husband?”

  “I have no idea.” Senator Lindgren shrugged. “That was her business. She said she didn’t want anyone to know what she’d done, and that suited me just fine.”

  “So when did Jessica contact you?”

  “A few months ago. She was pregnant. She’d learned about me from her mother a few years ago, and she decided to come and meet her biological father.” There was a shade of disgust in his voice as he said it, as if the thought were ridiculous at best.

  “You didn’t want a relationship with her?” Greg pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the fireplace thoughtfully.

  “A relationship?” The senator laughed bitterly. “I don’t have children for a reason, Chief.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t want them. They complicate things. They’re good for politics only when they behave perfectly. I didn’t take that risk in my career.”

  Greg looked up at some old paintings of Lindgren men of yore along the wall. It was hard to believe that the old senator didn’t want to sire an heir of his own, but apparently he didn’t.

  “So why did you have her followed?”

  “We agreed on a price. I’d pay her, and she’d go back home and stay there. I just wanted to make sure she’d made good on her end of the deal.” He rubbed his hands together as if he were cold, then plunged them into the pockets of his dressing gown. He looked irritably toward the door, no doubt wishing Greg would leave through it.

  “You had no idea she was dead.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t seem terribly broken up about that fact.”

  “Should I be?” The man shook his head in exasperation. “I barely knew her. She was a starving artist looking for a handout. She didn’t feel anything more for me than I felt for her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She wanted money.”

  “Did she ask for money?”

  “No.” The senator frowned and hunched up his shoulders, then sighed. “No, she didn’t ask for money, but she didn’t turn it down, either.”

  “Is it possible she really did want a relationship with her biological father?”

  “That wasn’t possible. My wife didn’t know about her. I couldn’t let the public know about her. I paid her to go away, and she took the money and left.”

  He rejected her. Greg suddenly had an image in his mind of a pregnant young woman reaching out to her biological father, hoping for some special connection now that she was estranged from her family. The senator didn’t care about her one way or another; he just wanted her to go away and leave his charmed life alone. Hurt, rejected, insulted, she took the money and headed back home. Only she never made it.

  “And the baby?” Greg asked.

  “What about it?” the senator asked tiredly.

  “Do you know who the father was?”

  He shook his head. “Some fellow artist, I imagine. I have no idea. She told me at one point that the father didn’t want anything to do with her.” He shook his head sadly. “Neither did I. She was better off at home.”

  “Thank you, Senator.” Greg gave the older man his most professional smile. “I appreciate your candor.”

  “I don’t have to stress how much I’ll value your discretion,” he said, a smooth smile returning to his face. “I can be an influential friend to have, Chief.”

  “I’ll be very discreet.” Greg returned the smile. “But don’t count on my vote next election.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Outside the judge’s office, Greg sat on a bench along the wall, waiting. He held his hat in his hands, rolling it end over end. He would be called in as a witness at some point soon. The scent of the lemon floor polish combined with that unique courthouse smell was comforting. He’d spent many a morning in a situation like this over the years, waiting in full uniform to give his testimony about a case. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to expect. He knew exactly what to expect, and in this case he also knew the judge personally. Judge Willis would be fair and impartial. She always was. Emily was the part that made it personal. Both Emily and Cora, to be precise.

  He heard movement inside, and then the door opened. Steve and Sara came out together. Steve looked down at Greg and frowned.

  “Greg Taylor?” His voice held a slightly high-pitched ring to it.

  “Hi, Steve.” Greg wasn’t in a mood to play this game. He stood up, enjoying the fact that he was four inches taller than Steve, forcing him to look up.

  “How are you doing, man?” Steve asked, reaching out to shake his hand. “This is my wife, Sara.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand in turn. Steve’s refusal to use his professional title this morning wasn’t lost on him. Steve had always been the manipulative type, using subtlety to gain an edge.

  “Well, this should be over soon,” Steve said with a smile. “When we’re done here, you should come by our place for a little dinner with our girls.”

  He was already mentally celebrating, Greg realized. That wasn’t good news, and he personally resented that Cora was silently being lumped in with “his girls.”

  “Is it over already?”
Greg asked.

  “No, no. They’ll want to hear from you still, I’m sure.” Steve shrugged and grinned. “But good to see you, Greg. We’re just going to go call the girls and see how they’re doing.”

  As Steve and Sara moved on down the hall, Greg looked after them, narrowing his eyes. Smooth. That was the best way to describe Steve. Much like Senator Lindgren. He knew how to position himself above other people and how to keep himself there. Less subtle men used open bullying, but Steve was no better than a common bully. He was just better at masking his motives. The question was, what was actually lurking under that smooth veneer?

  As Emily stepped out of the room, Cora held close in her arms, she looked deflated. Her beige pantsuit made her look more conservative than she generally looked, the only splash of color a pink blouse that peeked from beneath the jacket. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a bun, and there were tears in her eyes when she slowly turned and looked at Greg. She gave him a small smile.

  “Hi,” he said. “How’s it going in there?”

  “I don’t know. They’re basically saying that I’m emotionally unstable because of the call I made to Steve after I was followed. It was recorded. Oh, and apparently I’m a workaholic. Being a single mom is being used against me, too. I seem to lose by default.”

  “Steve’s an idiot” was Greg’s response. “I don’t like him.”

  “The judge seems to.”

  “Come on.” Greg took her arm and guided her down the hall. He could see Steve and Sara talking on a cell phone near the door for better reception. Turning to Emily, he said quietly, “I have the rest of Jessica’s story.”

  “Oh?” She frowned, looking up at him. That seemed to break through her fog, and she focused on his face, her eyes sharpening.

  “I made a visit to Senator Lindgren last night. We identified him as the one giving your cousin large sums of money monthly.”

  “The senator...” Emily frowned uncertainly. “Then she was having an affair with him?”