by Nan Dixon
“I will, dear.”
They talked for a few minutes, but Courtney’s brain wasn’t functioning. Mother had to succeed. She didn’t want to stay in Savannah. She wanted to go home.
* * *
KADEN PARKED BEHIND the B and B. Two carriage houses existed on the combined property. One was under construction, while the other looked like a home.
He found Forester’s number in his call log and texted him. I’m in the Fitzgerald House parking lot, where should we meet?
The reply came back: Coming down.
Kaden leaned against a shed near the parking lot, giving him a view of the entire courtyard. It stretched a full block from Fitzgerald to Carleton House. When the sisters had added the second mansion to the B and B, Granddad had been mighty proud.
After Nigel had turned sixty, he’d sold his construction business. Then he’d gotten bored with retirement. Now he worked as handyman and sometimes chauffeur for the sisters. Maybe after he recovered, he should actually retire.
A door on the second floor of the nearest carriage house banged open and a small boy dashed out.
The kid ran down the stairs, his shoelaces flapping. He could take a header and crack his skull open.
Kaden’s heart rate picked up and he hurried to the steps. Could he catch the kid if he fell?
“Josh!” a deep voice called from the top of the steps. “Slow down.”
“Miss Abby’s saving a treat for me,” the kid yelled.
“You won’t be eating anything if we end up at the ER.” A man came down the steps with a little girl on his shoulders.
When the boy was safely on the stone walkway, Kaden released the breath he’d been holding.
The man hadn’t noticed him yet. But the girl stared holes in him. She had fluffy blond hair. Heather’s kid? She looked younger than he thought a four-year-old should be, but what did he know?
When the man and child reached the bottom of the steps, Kaden stepped closer. “Forester?”
“Agent Farrell?”
Kaden nodded. He glanced around. Luckily, the courtyard was empty. “Just Kaden, please.”
Forester swung the little girl off his shoulders. “Issy, go join Josh in the kitchen.”
Issy. Short for Isabella. Heather’s kid.
The little girl bit her lip, staring at Kaden.
Did she guess she wasn’t safe around him? Somehow kids saw right through him. He forced a smile. She backed closer to her dad and clung to his leg.
“Hang on. Let me take Issy inside.” Forester pointed to the door the boy had run through.
Kaden moved to a small ironwork table next to a fountain. If guests tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, the splashing water would muffle their voices.
Forester didn’t take long. He returned and held out a hand. “I’m Nathan.”
Kaden had reviewed Nathan Forester’s profile. He was part owner in a family construction company. That explained the sound of the saw in the background when Kaden had called this afternoon.
Nathan took a seat and stretched out his legs. He didn’t say anything, just waited. The guy’s eyes were clear. He didn’t look like he was a user, but the smartest dealers didn’t use their own product.
Kaden opened his phone to a picture of Bole. “Do you know this woman?”
“It’s Heather. Heather Bole. I met her when I worked in Atlanta. We dated about five years ago. Not for long. Then she took off with some guy.” He glanced over at the kitchen door. “Just before summer, she walked into my work site and dropped off Issy. Isabella. Said she’s my daughter. Which I didn’t doubt for a minute.”
“This was May?” Kaden leaned forward. The timing fit.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t know about your daughter before?” Kaden asked.
“Her mother never told me.” Nathan ran his fingers through his hair, his lips forming a straight line. “After Heather dropped her off, Issy barely spoke.”
Didn’t speak? “Did Heather say where she was heading?”
“She said she’d gotten a DUI and was ordered into treatment, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.”
“Was Heather with anyone?” Kaden pulled up a picture of Hector Salvez. “Maybe this guy?”
“There wasn’t anyone with her or in the truck when I chased her down the street.” He closed his eyes. “What mother doesn’t tell the father of her child about their daughter and then dumps her with a birth certificate and barely any clothes?”
Kaden’s nostrils flared. One just like his own mother. “Did she say where she’d been? What she’d been doing?”
“No.” Nathan opened his phone and scrolled to a photo, tipping it so Kaden could see the screen. “Issy keeps drawing this picture. Do you know anything about that?”
The paper had stick figures on it. A small yellow-haired person was squashed under a bigger stick figure with black hair and a beard. Red slashes covered the bigger stick figure.
Kaden swore. “She was there. Poor kid.”
“You know what this is? Where this is?” Nathan’s fists pressed against the table.
“Border of Georgia and Florida,” Kaden said. “It’s a drug house. There was a shooting. Three dead.”
Nathan pushed away from the table and paced to the fountain and back. Leaning his fists on the table, he growled, “And Issy was there? In a house filled with drugs and guns?”
Kaden took in the fire in the man’s eyes. The tension in his body.
“Based on the blood smears, we suspect someone about the size of your daughter was at the scene.”
“Oh, God.” Nathan collapsed into the chair, clasping at his neck. “I... Could you talk to her therapist? Maybe this new information will help. I want Issy to feel safe. Be safe.”
“Sure.” Kaden wasn’t sure what more he could tell a therapist, but Nathan was suffering. He was so upset it made him think the guy was clean. “Do you have any idea where Heather might be?”
“I’ve racked my brain for months, trying to recall everything she ever said.” Nathan blew out a big breath. “I think she grew up in Alabama.”
“Mobile.”
“If Heather’s involved in drugs I will never let her touch Issy again. I want full custody.”
“I understand.” Kaden stared the man in the eye. “But you have a track record with drugs and dealing, don’t you?”
“In high school, small-time. I was a screwup.” Nathan gripped the table. “But I’m not anymore. Haven’t been for a decade. Run me.”
“Already did. We haven’t found anything to indicate you’re still involved.”
Forester backed off, his shoulders easing. “You won’t find anything. I have a daughter. My fiancée has a son. I’m not screwing up anything with her or the kids. They’re everything to me.”
Kaden was starting to like the guy. He handed him a business card. “If you hear from Heather, let me know.”
“I will.”
The kitchen door creaked open and Abby walked over to the table. “Nathan, we’re ready to eat.”
“Are we done?” Nathan asked him.
“Yes.”
“Kaden?” Abby asked. “I didn’t know you and Nathan knew each other.”
“Hi, Abby.” Kaden stood. “We just met.”
Nathan’s eyebrows shot up. Then he gave a short nod.
“Is Nigel settled at the rehab center?” she asked.
“Yes.” Kaden grimaced. “He already wants to go home.”
She patted his shoulder. “He’s right where he needs to be.”
Nathan stood, too. “You know Nigel?”
“He’s my grandfather.” Pride filled Kaden’s voice.
“Wonderful man,” Nathan said. “Sorry he fell.”
“Thanks.”
“Kaden?” Abby asked. “Have you had dinner?”
He didn’t remember having lunch. “No.”
“Then join us,” Abby said.
“I...” Kaden couldn’t think of the last time he’d sat down to a meal that hadn’t been with his granddad or other agents. Usually he ate takeout or a nuked dinner alone. “That would be nice.”
“I’ll hold dinner for you then.” Abby pointed at a door. “Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Once Abby left, Kaden touched Nathan’s arm. “I need to keep the fact that I’m with the FBI between us. I’m only in Savannah because of my grandfather.”
Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Are you undercover?”
“My...cover is on a need-to-know basis.” Like all task force members.
“Sure.” Nathan nodded.
“Thanks,” Kaden said.
It wasn’t only the task force policy of secrecy. His job was on the line. Roger had fired a loose-lipped co-worker two months ago.
And if Roger’s ex-wife got wind he was talking to people in her jurisdiction, it would add fuel to their personal war. He’d hate to be caught in their crossfire. Secrecy was the best policy.
* * *
COURTNEY KICKED A suitcase out of the way. She missed having maids to clean and iron her clothes. Sure, she packed and unpacked her own bag when traveling, but for this trip, she’d taken more clothes than normal. Help would be nice.
If she complained, Gray would roll his eyes. Why had she painted herself in this corner? She needed her brother’s help, but Gray was suspicious of everything she did.
If she could hide for a week or two, Father would calm down. Mother promised. But waiting meant getting through tonight’s dinner and being around Gray and the love of his life. Gag much?
Her brother tapped on the door. “You ready to walk over for dinner?”
She pushed off the bed. “I guess.”
He peered at her luggage spread through the room. “You didn’t unpack.”
“I...freshened up after the drive.” She brushed a curl off her cheek. She’d been reading and lost track of time. “I’ll work on it tonight.”
“How long are you staying?” he asked as they headed into the courtyard.
She clenched her hands into fists so she didn’t gnaw on her thumbnail. “A couple of weeks?”
“Weeks? Did your clique dethrone you as queen?” He slapped a hand on his chest. “How will they know who to snub and what club is hot? How will they decide what party to attend without your...wisdom?”
She shivered. Gwen would take over. Her friend would love that. “You don’t have a high opinion of my life.”
“Nope.” He was so...blunt.
They passed a stone sculpture of the three Fitzgerald sisters set into a crumbling wall surrounded by flowers. “I suppose you think I should be more like the Fitzgeralds. Setting my hooks into men who can finance their B and B.”
Gray grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “What?”
“Ouch.” She tugged and he released her. “Abby set her hooks in you and you bought her a mansion. Bess just married a contractor. You don’t think she has to pay full cost for the work they do at the B and B, do you? And what about Dolley? She made a play for that photographer. Now her photos are published.”
“How can you think that? The Fitzgeralds are the hardest-working family I know,” Gray spat out. “I admire what they’ve done. You should emulate, not scorn, them. None of the trust-fund babies you run with could survive what they’ve survived.”
“But—but Abby married you and you bought her all this.” She waved her arms around the B and B.
“Because I love her.” Gray raised his hands. “I want to help her make her dreams come true. But she’s the one with the ideas and work ethic.”
“But...” The Fitzgeralds couldn’t be so...so virtuous.
“I’ll warn you once.” Gray’s blue gaze froze her in place. “If you’re nasty or mean to Abby, or her sisters, or their husbands or fiancés, hell, to any B and B staff, you’re gone.”
Her stomach flopped. Gone? Where could she go? She couldn’t afford anything. “You’d choose them over me? Your own sister?”
“Absolutely.” He crossed his arms, his face as hard as the driveway pillars at home. “Are we clear?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t her life go back to normal? “But...”
“No. No buts.” He exhaled. “Sometimes I wish we’d grown up poor. Then maybe you would have used the brain I know you have.”
He was as relentless as a boxer in the ring, but she wouldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt her. She’d had plenty of practice with their father. “I’m glad we aren’t poor.”
He set his hand on her back and directed her toward Fitzgerald House. “I want you to do something with your life.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you went to Yale.” Bitterness bled through her words.
“Your education was good.” He squeezed her shoulders. “There had to be a reason you chose literature as your major.”
“I love literature.” In addition, she could run her sorority without worrying she would fail a course. Would sorority president look good on a résumé?
“I endured English classes,” he said. “Too much reading.”
“That was the best part of my degree program.” She loved escaping into someone else’s life. It was more fun than her own. Changing the subject, she asked, “Do you always eat at the B and B?”
Gray shrugged. “On the nights Abby runs the wine tastings.”
“But there are all those...strangers at the B and B.”
“You mean like when you eat in a restaurant?”
“Oh.”
Courtney followed him through the garden’s winding paths. Lush green plants cascaded over rocks. Palm trees of all sizes shadowed beds filled with red, yellow and pink flowers. She barely recognized any of the plants. She was as out of place here as a palm tree would be on the banks of the Charles.
She wanted to go home. Wanted to have someone else deal with money and cars and let her deal with managing her friends.
Gray held the screen door. The scents as they walked into the large kitchen were amazing. Lemon, basil, licorice? And fish.
Gray hurried to his wife like he hadn’t seen her in weeks. A mob of people filled the room.
She straightened. She’d thought it would only be Abby, Gray and herself. Instead, Abby’s family was here. The three sisters were connected at the hips. Now it wouldn’t be a quick meal. She’d have to chat with people who thought she was a bitch.
She shook back her curls. What did it matter? She’d be back in Boston and away from here soon enough.
Dolley, the youngest sister, said something and Liam, the documentary maker she’d latched on to, laughed along with the rest of the adults. Everyone but her.
What would it be like to laugh freely and not care if the laugh lines became permanently engraved on your face?
They were talking about Bess and Daniel’s honeymoon. Courtney hesitated next to the kitchen sitting area.
The boy who’d been in Abby’s wedding sat next to a little girl. What was his name? “Jason?”
He looked up from scribbling in a sketch book. “I’m Joshua. Josh.”
“Hi, Joshua Josh.” She sat across from the kids. “What are you coloring?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m drawing.”
She could see ears and the body of a dog forming under the pencil strokes. “Is that your dog?”
“It’s Carly, my uncle’s dog. But Papa says we get a dog as soon as our house is ready.”
“You’re very talented.” She looked over at the tiny blon
d-haired girl. “What are you working on?”
She held up a coloring book.
“Issy doesn’t talk much. ’Cuz of stuff,” Josh said. “She always colors princesses.”
“I see that.” Pink exploded over the page. “Very pretty.”
Issy pointed to the page she wasn’t coloring.
“You want me to color with you?” Courtney asked.
Issy’s brown eyes brightened.
“Thank you.” She knelt on the opposite side of the coffee table and picked a purple crayon from the pack. “Do you know your colors?”
The little girl nodded.
Courtney held up the crayon in her hand.
“Purple,” the little girl sang.
“Right.” Two princesses were on the page. “Which dress should be purple?”
Issy tapped one.
As they worked, Courtney asked her to name the colors each time she changed crayons.
A blond woman came to the sitting area. “Hi, Courtney, can I get you something to drink?”
Courtney looked up. Everyone in the kitchen had wine or beer. “Umm, a glass of wine? Whatever everyone is drinking.”
“We’re having prosecco.” The woman smiled. “I’m Cheryl.”
“Cheryl. Thanks.” She pushed the crayons back to Issy.
Gray would expect her to socialize with the adults, people who despised her. She’d rather play with the kids, but she stood. “Thanks for letting me color.”
The kitchen door opened again. This time it was a stranger. The man’s dark brown hair was short. She’d never been enamored with the clipped look, but it made his steel-blue eyes stand out.
She arranged her hair so it draped over her shoulder.
“Am I in the right place?” the stranger asked.
“You are. Kaden, come in.” Abby took his hand and pulled him into the center of the kitchen. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind about dinner.”
The hottie shook his head. “No, just my clothes.”
He wasn’t dressed in jeans or shorts like the other men. He wore nice Dockers and a polo. Not the best quality, but not the worst, either.
Cheryl handed Courtney her prosecco. Turning to the stranger—Kaden—Cheryl asked, “How is Nigel doing?”