by J. M. Madden
“Arthur and Eugenia Showalter have been married for almost fifty years. They own and run a restaurant in Arvada. They had four boys and one girl, and I can find records for most of them. Your father...”
He reached for another paper in the stack and handed it over. Logan read carefully, recognizing the Army discharge paperwork. For Christopher Alexander Showalter. There was a post-it note attached, listing several penal code numbers. “What is this?”
“It’s your father’s DD-214. And the list of charges he went to prison for before he was dishonorably discharged.”
“Wait,” Logan said, leaning forward in shock. “Dad said he was released under a bad conduct discharge, for having a pain pill in his pocket, or something. Contraband.”
John shook his head, his dark brows furrowed. “Your dad had a court-martial for drug offenses and embezzlement from the Army. He was sentenced to three years in prison, served his time, then was given a dishonorable discharge.”
Blinking, Logan stared down at the papers, his mind reeling. Dad had always given the excuse that the Army had been out to get him because he’d been injured in service, and he had a lifetime of care coming. He looked at the details on the paperwork, and the attached passport sized photo. It was definitely his father. Just with the Showalter name.
“What the hell...” he breathed.
Was that why he’d stolen them away from Colorado?
“Did you see if any of the other Showalter family had military service?”
“All but one of them, and one is still in the Army, stationed at Ft. Bragg. One brother was KIA in the Persian Gulf.”
Ah, hell. Logan blinked, realizing that he’d come from a true Army Gold Star family. They’d lived and died by their service.
“So, my dad was the only one in the family that had problems.”
“The only one I can find. Everyone else appears to be true red, white and blue.”
John shuffled through his papers. “I also found this and confirmed it with the cop that found you. He’s a captain, now, and I have his number if you’d like to talk to him.”
It was a police report, detailing a crash scene a rookie cop had found on interstate 70, which ran through downtown Denver. Logan’s analytical brain appreciated the clear, concrete details at the top of the report. His gaze drifted down to the narrative section.
The report was dated right after the discharge paperwork, and it painted a picture of a man struggling. The driver of the car carrying three children, ages 6 years, 3 years and 13 months had supposedly hit black ice, struck a guard rail and crossed a center median, making another vehicle swerve to avoid the crash. The second vehicle went off an embankment and struck a bridge support. The man was killed upon impact. Drug paraphernalia was scattered throughout the first car and the driver was found to be critically impaired by LSD.
“Holy fuck. He got high with us in the car and killed a man?”
John nodded. “That’s what I’m inferring. The cop called children’s services and you were taken away. Your father was taken to a local hospital with a broken arm and a concussion. You kids were all fine.”
“Where was my mother,” Logan breathed.
“It looks like she was at work at the restaurant your grandparents owned.”
Logan sank back in the chair, his mind trying to cope with everything he’d learned. It was... horrifying. And it made a terrible, maniacal kind of sense. Even when he was a child, he remembered family members. He had no idea who they’d been, but he remembered playing in a big ranch house with other little kids. His parents had always claimed that that had been at a babysitter’s house.
He could understand his father lying, but his mother? Why had she gone along with all this?
Because she loved her husband.
Logan had lived a life of lies that his parents had created.
“Is that all of the information you have?” he asked finally, looking up at John.
He handed over one more piece of paper. “That was where your father filed to have his name officially changed.” His eyes kind, the older man leaned forward on the desk. “If you want I can approach the family on your behalf and confirm what I’ve found, but it seems pretty cut and dried.”
“Yes, it does,” Logan murmured. He shuffled the papers, putting them in order. “I think... I’ll deal with this.”
“That’s completely your right. And it’s not something that you have to move on right now. You know? They’ve waited twenty years. They can wait a few more weeks. Chill out, explore Colorado and Denver. Maybe take out a girl...” he grinned.
He couldn’t quite return the good humor. “Yeah. Thanks, John. I know Shannon was taking pity on me in that airport, but I’m really glad you talked me into accepting your help.”
“I am, too, Logan. You had the look of a man on the edge.”
He barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.”
John leaned even further forward across the desk, staring at him intently. “Logan, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I do have an idea. I contemplated ending it all more times than I dare say out loud, but I kept rolling along, knowing that I was at the bottom of the barrel and that I couldn’t get any lower. And I was right. Duncan showed up with a job offer, which was a huge thing. Then I met Shannon. She is my salvation. And my kids...” his voice went rough, and Logan could see how much he loved them. “They are miracles. Both of them. And I don’t deserve them but it doesn’t matter because I’m never giving them up.”
The fierceness in his eyes said everything, and Logan smiled. Then he made the harsh comparison to his own father. “I’m glad you love them that way, Gunny. Not every kid has that.”
“I know. I have no idea who my father was. So,” John said, taking an expansive breath. “Before you pull that trigger or pop those pills, you need to remember that there are people here for you. You have my number and Shannon’s. I’ll give you the whole directory to the LNF crew, because it’s occurred to every single one of us, but we found our way through. You will too.”
The stark words meant a lot to him. “I’m trying. it just feels like I’m drowning, sometimes.”
John nodded. “It does. But there are people and processes in place to ensure that you don’t. If you let them in.”
Logan thought about that. It had been so long since he’d let anyone in, or even dared hope that anyone would be there for him. Miller had been the last one he’d relied upon, and he’d let him down. Fuck, and now Logan was letting him down by not being there for his family.
“There’s also a job if you want it.”
Logan blinked, not sure he’d heard him correctly. “What?”
“You heard me. We have an investigator going out on maternity leave so we’re a little short-handed. If you don’t mind starting with basic stuff while we get you certified, we have a place for you.”
Logan couldn’t even process what he’d said. “Why would you offer me a job? You don’t know me.”
John tilted his head, smirking. “Consider it my good deed for the year, taking on a Ground Pounder. And I do know you. You’re a former intelligence officer and a veteran. You came to my wife’s rescue even though you thought it was a ruse. I’d be a fool not to hire you.”
Logan scowled. “I didn’t do very good as an intelligence officer finding my own family.”
John shrugged. “And you wouldn’t. You were too close to it. You never would have believed that your dad changed his name, and your whole family’s name. It wouldn’t even have occurred to you. Lucky for you, you had us,” he grinned.
Shaking his head, Logan didn’t even know what to say. John was probably right. About everything, actually. “I need to think about all this.”
John nodded, circling the desk. “I would expect you to. You have a lot to absorb.”
Logan reached out and shook John’s hand, but John pulled him into a shoulder-hug. “Don’t let it overwhelm you,” he said firmly.
Logan nodded, pulling back and brac
ing his crutches to get up. His body ached and he needed some time alone. “I’ll give you a call,” he told John, before he left the office.
When he entered the reception area Marigold glanced up and she seemed to sense that he needed to get out of there. She murmured something to Shannon, grabbed her coat and bag and met him at the door.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the house.”
Logan knew she was just as curious as he’d been, but she didn’t say anything as they bundled into the Beetle and drove back to the house. When she pulled into the lot, he rested a hand on hers on the gear shift. “I’m okay from here, Marigold. I need some time to wrap my head around some things.”
She nodded, her brows furrowed. “Well, if you want to talk, I’ll be home in a few hours. Or you can text me.”
Without saying anything else he pushed up out of the car and headed inside. Nancy’s maroon station wagon wasn’t in the lot, so she must be at the store or something. He was glad to make it to his room without seeing or talking to anyone.
Once inside, he headed straight to the shower, cranking the heat to high. Though he was dressed in a t-shirt, flannel shirt and jacket, he was still fighting the cold. He wasn’t sure how much was mental and how much was physical, but he felt like he needed to bathe.
Logan stepped out of the shower, then shaved and got dressed, a plan beginning to form in his mind. He sat in the chair in the living room area and studied the contents of John’s folder.
13
“So, what did he say?” Shannon whisper/shouted as she leaned into John’s doorway.
Her sexy husband glanced up with a smile, rocking back in his chair. Looking self-satisfied, he crossed his arms over his chest, a pose she especially loved because it made his chest and arms look so big. “He’s thinking about some things. There was a lot to go over and a lot of information he had no idea about, even about his own direct family.”
“The poor guy,” she breathed. “I hope he can figure it all out. And you offered him the job?”
John nodded once, hands moving to the wheels of his chair as he rocked back and forth. “Again, he has to think about everything. I dumped a huge amount of information on the guy.”
“He looked a little dazed when Marigold took him home,” she sighed.
“Yeah. I think once he has a chance to figure out which way is up, he’ll be on board.”
John’s dark eyes roved down her body and Shannon cocked her head, giving him a smile. “Yes...” she drawled. She wore an especially cute little purple business outfit today, with sparkly heels.
John grinned and shrugged. “You look good to me, what can I say? Why don’t you come in here for a minute and lock the door. Leave the shoes on when you straddle me.”
Shannon laughed, her cheeks going pink. “Yeah, not happening buddy. I know you. Duncan has already warned us once this week.”
John scoffed. “What’s he going to do, fire me?”
She shook her head, backing out of the doorway. “Love you, babe. Talk to you in a bit.”
“Shannon,” he growled.
She giggled as she headed down the hallway, away from temptation. There would be hell to pay tonight for telling him no, but she would be ready for it.
Marigold wanted to go downstairs and bang on Logan’s door, but she would allow him his privacy. Shannon hadn’t given her all the details, just told her that she needed to be patient with him because he had a huge amount of information to digest. And he had kind of said the same thing. So, she cracked open a fresh bottle of wine later that evening, turned on the TV for background noise and surfed her social media sites. Next week she had a pottery class and she was supposed to be looking for ideas to try to match, but her brain had been on other things.
Namely, the hunky guy downstairs.
Not that he thought he was hunky. She shook her head at the thought that someone would dump him because he’s been injured. What bullshit.
Marigold worried that he would feel overwhelmed by everything he’d learned today, but she didn’t want to rush down there unless he actually needed her. She needed to have enough faith in him to trust him to reason things out on his own, and not to take the drastic way out.
The thought terrified her, though.
Logan was better than that. Yeah, he may have hit some rough patches, but she didn’t truly believe he would kill himself. But then, she’d thought her mother would never leave her either.
Unable to help herself, she sent him a text. You doing ok?
It was a while before he responded with a yeah.
Well, that was better than nothing.
She was into her second glass of wine and watching a British cooking show when there was a knock on the door. Grandma Nancy usually texted her so that she could avoid the stairs, and the third guy staying in the house was on the other landing, so Marigold knew who it was before she swung open her door.
“You didn’t have to come up all this way. I could have come down.”
Logan shook his head and gave her a slightly rakish grin. “No challenge to that. Mind if I come in?”
Marigold stepped back, waving him in. “I was just enjoying a bottle of wine. Would you like to join me?”
“Yes,” he said absently, glancing around her space.
Marigold loved her little mini-apartment. It had everything she needed. The aqua colored comforter on the bed was one of the color focal points, and she’d built off of it, with pale blue scattered throw pillows, the drapes in her turreted office space, and some of the rugs all varying shades of aqua.
“You have a blue jean couch?”
She grinned and swept the gray fur throw blanket she’d been using into her arms. “I do! Blue jeans match everything so I used the same reasoning when looking at couches for the space. I think it worked beautifully.”
He nodded. “It does, actually.”
Sinking into the cushions, he sighed. “Comfortable, too. The one I have is a little well-used.”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “That used to be up here. I told Nancy I would buy my own. Sorry,” she laughed.
Marigold sank into the opposite end of the couch, propping her elbow on the back as she looked at him. “So, you had some revelations today, I hear.”
Logan grimaced, running his fingers over the top of his arm brace distractedly. Then, as if he realized what he was doing, he set the crutches to the floor. “More than I ever could have expected.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Logan heaved a great sigh, and she could see the lines of worry around his eyes. Shifting his arm to the back of the couch, he shook his head. “Not just yet. Tell me about your family.”
Marigold’s brows popped in surprise. “My family?”
“Do you have family? Other than your grandmother, I mean?”
She nodded. “A few members. Mostly cousins. My mother was older when she had me, and after my father was killed she never really recovered. I think I told you that. She never found her balance. Her mother and father were at the house all the time, picking up after her or making sure I had clean clothes. Eventually I just moved in with them. We both did. Life was...not good, but better for a while.” She smiled softly. “Mom always worried about me, though. If I was late coming in from a date or school activity, she would be calling around looking for me. It was irritating, but I knew it was a coping mechanism.
“And then, a few years ago, my grandpa died,” she sighed, her lips turned down. “Mom kind of... broke down, because he had been the sole man present all her life. When we should have been there for Grandma and her pain, my mother lost it, basically. She took a handful of pills in a suicide attempt and was in the psych ward while we were at the funeral.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Whatever John handed you on the platter today, it can’t be as crazy as my family.”
Logan gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, I bet it can.”
Marigold listened raptly as he reported what John had found. They split the re
st of the bottle of wine. When he finished speaking, she had to consciously unclench her fists and her body. At some point she’d curled up into a tense knot on the cushion. What utter gall the man had! “So, your father basically ruined everything. He ruined his family by being the black mark on the perfect Army service record, and he ruined your family by lying about it all. And he dragged you all through hell because he didn’t have the balls to own up to what he did.”
“Correct,” Logan said, sighing heavily.
Marigold reached out and gripped his hand on the back of the couch. “None of this is your fault. It can, literally, all be laid at his feet.”
“I know. I just feel... ashamed. To have a family record like that is an incredible accomplishment. I wish I could have finished my deployment. Maybe it would have erased some of the blackness he spread.”
She crawled closer to him, looking him in the eye. “Listen to me, Logan. You were injured in the line of duty. I have a feeling you have a Purple Heart hiding around somewhere. Am I right?” She could see in his face that she was. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, I feel like your service record will make up for your father’s lack.”
His brilliant blue-green eyes grew luminous. “I hope so,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “Because I have nothing else to offer them.”
She scrunched up her brow, her wine-lazy brain trying to react. “Why do you have to offer them anything? You didn’t screw them over. It was your dad.”
“I know, but...” he shook his head, obviously searching for words. “My brother Clint is a druggie, probably still in jail. Jana... Jana was killed right after I enlisted, by a drugged-out boyfriend. And I am just mobile enough not to need a wheelchair. That’s not a great family line.”
She huffed in exasperation, shaking her head. Her dark hair hung across her shoulder and she pushed it away. “Can you look at it from the other side, my side, for a minute?”
He looked at her, mouth tight. “How?”
Sinking back onto her heels, she pulled his hand down to the seat between them. “With you they get the best of the family back, a war hero. Someone who served the way the family expected in spite of his setbacks. Hell, you served the way the family wanted you to, and you didn’t even know the family. That right there speaks to your genetics motivating you. You were bred to serve in the military, and you did,” she said firmly, grinning.