Then There Were Three

by Jeanie London

  That had never occurred to her before.

  “Phone lines work both ways, Megan,” her mother had said.

  Could it be that they didn’t so much disapprove of this daughter, the one who was living her own life, making her own choices, as simply not know what to do with her? This daughter had grown up to be a stranger, was still growing, an independent single mom trying to figure out how to be stronger.

  Maybe they needed reassurance that she was still their daughter, that she hadn’t wanted to replace them.

  They’d given her a chance today to prove it.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said as they made their way into the living room with plates filled with food. “Violet, do you want to tell your grandparents the good news?”

  Violet beamed. “Mom’s taking a project here, so we’re coming to town. Happy Easter!”

  Both parents looked surprised, so Megan stepped into the breach. “We are. I’ll be getting Helping Hands up and running. When we return home, I’ll wrap things up. Probably take six weeks.”

  Her parents exchanged a glance. Then her mother met Megan’s gaze and said, “I hope we’ll get to see you all while you’re in town. We can have dinner. And maybe go shopping.”

  Everyday activities that most families took for granted. The DiLeos certainly did. Activities that brought family members together. Activities that may seem ordinary, but were really very, very special in their way.

  “I love to shop, Grandma Bell.” Violet took her grandmother’s plate courteously, so she could get settled on the couch. “Dad told me they built a mall inside an old brewery.”

  “They did indeed, and you might like to see the university, too,” her mother added. “You’ll be looking at colleges soon.”

  “Can I, Mom?” Violet asked.

  “Meggie, you should bring her by. We’ll give her a grand tour. Maybe even let her sit in on a lecture.”

  Violet looked eager, and Megan smiled, feeling something that had nothing at all to do with the past, but everything to do with the future. Something that felt a lot like hope.

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  NIC HADN’T REALIZED until seeing Megan and Violet with the Doctors Bell how much baggage he’d carried from the past into the present. But somehow, seeing them together for the first time… Megan, who was smiling too hard, had her mother’s coloring, but actually looked a lot like her father. Violet didn’t look like any of them.

  The baggage wasn’t overt—rather flashes of memory. Scheduling classes during his first semester in the criminal justice program at Loyola and wondering how Megan’s father would react to glancing up in the lecture hall to find Nic in his class. His refusal to walk during graduation for either of his degrees though his mother had insisted because she’d wanted to throw parties to celebrate his accomplishments.

  Of course he’d never forgotten the one and only time he’d spoken to Megan’s father, when Nic had finally grown frustrated enough to knock on Megan’s front door, even though he’d never so much as picked her up from her house.

  The day he’d found out why.

  Nic had seen Megan’s mother around campus, had recognized her from faculty photos, but they’d never formally met. And as he strode into the family room where they’d congregated with plates in their laps, politely engaged in conversation with Anthony and Tess, the twins at their feet entertained by Violet, he resisted the urge to introduce himself as Violet’s father, police chief of the city they lived in.

  Megan looked up and saw him. He recognized the resignation in her face. Nic’s heart was thumping dully in his chest as he crossed the room, his best press-conference expression securely in place.

  He wasn’t going to be her dirty little secret anymore. And definitely not sitting in his mother’s living room.

  “Doctor Bell, welcome.” He extended his hand.

  Megan’s father stood and they shook. “George, please. It was kind of your mother to include us on your holiday.”

  “Nic, have you met my mother?” Megan asked.

  Before he could reply, her father made the introduction.

  “My wife, Helen.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, then wondered what came next. He didn’t have a damned clue.

  Violet distracted them all when little Rocco made a mad dash toward Anthony’s beer, which had been strategically positioned beside the couch to avoid such an occurrence.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, kid!” She caught him by the ankle.

  “Nice save.” Nic seized his nephew around the waist and hoisted him into the air. Swinging a rocking chair around, he sat, positioning his nephew on his lap with an arm locked around the kid’s waist like a vise.

  “Thanks.” Tess held up her fork in a salute of gratitude. “If not for Violet, we’d have missed out on all the goodies. I don’t know what this stuff with the shrimp is, Megan, but I’m already working on Anthony’s helping. Delicious.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Anthony lifted his plate above her head where she couldn’t get to it.

  His family was a damned side show, but for once Nic was grateful.

  “You’ve been doing a lot of good work with the NOPD,” Megan’s father said.

  They were nowhere near the first-name stage of the game yet, no matter what George said, but Nic inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment and resisted a juvenile urge to pound his chest and roar.

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do in the city and inside the department,” he said.

  “From what we hear on the news, you’re getting a fair amount of support.”

  “We are.” He gave his standard the-feds-are-in-town spiel, which invited a few more questions about the various roles of the U.S. attorney, the DEA and the ATF, which Nic answered with his standard what-the-feds-hope-to-accomplish spiel.

  The whole exchange was very civilized, and there was no doubt in Nic’s mind that each one of them was very aware of their responsibility to the young girl on the floor between them. This conversation was ushering in a new era, and Nic grudgingly gave Megan’s parents credit for walking into the lion’s den. That couldn’t have been easy.

  He wasn’t the only one who’d been surprised her parents had been invited today. His mother had probably thought she was doing a good thing, opening her home to Megan’s family the way she always did with Tess’s. One big happy family.

  Nic caught Megan’s gaze, and knew it was going to take a lot of work to make a big happy family out of this crew. He’d been angry as hell fifteen years ago when learning that he’d been her dirty little secret. He’d been angry as hell yesterday because Megan was still hiding him. But as he considered her now, it occurred to him for the first time to ask why she might feel as if she had to hide him.

  He thought he might be seeing an answer right now. In how difficult this exchange seemed to be for all concerned, particularly Megan. In the way Violet kept jumping into the conversation if it looked like it might lag, creating a bridge between her mother and her grandparents. She had her mother’s back, and Nic felt proud about that.

  But it made him recall what Megan had shared about her parents not being involved with her decision to keep Violet. The Doctors Bell obviously hadn’t had their daughter’s back all those years ago, had obviously not inspired the same sort of loyalty Violet demonstrated for Megan right now.

  Were they finally trying to heal that breach?

  There were still a lot of missing pieces to this puzzle, but he was putting it together, slowly but surely. His own anger was a lot easier to understand.

  He’d harbored a lot after being told he hadn’t been good enough for Megan, and he suspected that anger had fueled his ambition through the years, a need to prove himself worthy of the girl he’d loved.

  The girl he still loved.

  No way to deny it. Not when the truth was in the antagonism he felt every time he looked at her father with a ridiculous urge to prove himself. He might not see where they could g
o from here, but he was certain about how he felt.

  His gut told him Megan still had feelings for him. He’d known it when she’d lain in his arms. He knew it now as he watched her play nice with the folks.

  But as he bounced his nephew on his knee and listened to his daughter relating an amusing tale of eating soup with her hands in Africa, he realized he would have to find a way to let go of the anger if he wanted even a chance to be with Megan, to convince her to take a chance on him.

  He did.

  He didn’t understand what was holding Megan back, but knew he’d never get his chance unless he figured it out.

  His cell phone vibrated. He glanced at the display and recognized Jurado’s number as Rocco tried to snatch the phone from his hand.

  Snapping it open, he said, “Hang on. I’m here.” Then he stood and said to Megan and her folks, “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”

  Passing Rocco off to Anthony, Nic headed out onto the porch where he could hear.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “You’re sure popular this week, Chief,” Jurado answered. “Your interrogation party finally got a response.”

  “Yeah, who?”

  “Big Mike. He’s ready to talk, but only to you.”

  “I am popular.” Finally. Short of a full confession from the judge, which had lower odds than winning the lottery, Big Mike was the best lead Nic had. He’d take it. “When and where?”

  “His place. The gay parade’s going on so he refuses to shut down the shop. Got all kinds of people dropping in for ink and holes, apparently. He said to blend in with the crowd so no one sees you and use the back door. He’ll be waiting for you.”

  “On my way.” Nic glanced at the cars parked in the driveway, the yard, lining both sides of the street. His car was trapped, and he didn’t recognize all the cars blocking it.

  Slipping the phone into the case at his waist, he headed inside, straight for the living room where he’d find… “Anthony, keys. Won’t be long. Work.”

  Without a word, Anthony stuck a hand into his pocket, produced car keys and tossed them.

  Nic caught them. “Thanks.”

  Anthony tipped the beer bottle in an acknowledgment before Nic said goodbye to Megan, Violet and the Bells. Then he was out the door and speeding down the street in Anthony’s antique Firebird. So much for blending in.

  In minutes he was searching for a parking space on the street well out of the line of the parade routes. And as former commander of the Eighth District, he knew them all. He finally found a spot a few blocks from Insane, Ink.

  Avoiding Iberville, he headed down an alley that brought him behind the shop. Sure enough, he only had to knock once because Big Mike was waiting.

  “Happy Easter, Mike.” Nic didn’t bother looking up, just invited himself inside and squeezed past the big man.

  He hadn’t gotten fully into the cramped back room when he saw what sat in a place of honor on a Formica counter.

  A pipe bomb.

  His phone was in his hand as fast as he might have drawn his service-issue automatic. “Jesus. I didn’t get the memo we needed bomb techs—”

  “Cut me a goddamned break, Chief. Can you say Vietnam and the Gulf? I know a real bomb when I see it.”

  Which was saying something as Nic’s heart had nearly dropped through the floor.

  Big Mike slammed the door shut. If that had been a real pipe bomb, it would have blown right there and taken half the building with it. “Keep your voice down. I got employees and customers up front who aren’t supposed to know you’re here.”

  Nic was already inspecting what was one official-looking fake explosive device. Using the antenna of his phone to avoid leaving his prints, he lifted the bottom enough to read the scrap of paper below.

  NEXT TIME IT’S REAL.

  “Looks like you made a friend.” Nic set down the device.

  “Already touched it. To make sure I called it right.”

  If not there would be a crater where Big Mike was standing and Nic would still be at his mother’s being treated to stellar conversation with Megan and the folks. “Come on, man. Crime scene 101. You know better than that.”

  “Excuse the hell out of me, Chief. Some of us are concerned about the welfare of law-abiding citizens around here.”

  Nic glanced pointedly at the door leading to the front of the shop. “Oh, you must be talking about your customers. Any minors without parents out there today?”

  Big Mike scowled harder.

  Nic snapped off a few shots of the device with his phone camera. “I assume you’re referring to the police.”

  “They’re the ones causing the trouble.”

  “Why don’t you fill me in on what’s going on?” Nic suggested, turning his back on the fake bomb. “Unless you called me down here because you wanted to interrupt Sunday dinner.”

  “You started all this shit. Dragging me down to the station like a criminal. You made sure he saw me.”

  “Who saw you?”

  Big Mike growled. “You know who I’m talking about.”

  Nic did. And he’d bet money Big Mike thought this fake bomb was a gift from the judge, a warning to keep his mouth shut. But Nic wasn’t about to lead the witness. Big Mike had called him down here, so Big Mike could kindly fill in the blanks so his testimony would be admissible in court if he ever consented to make an appearance there. Not likely, but Nic could always hope.

  “I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to tell me what you know,” he said. “But this is my last offer. I’m tired of asking. So either start talking or I’m out of here.”

  Big Mike barreled across the room like a bull. He cracked the door to the front of the shop and glanced through as if to reassure himself no one was listening on the other side.

  Then he came and stood so close that Nic was forced to crane his head to meet the man’s gaze. An intimidation tactic? Nic didn’t think so. Big Mike was worried.

  “I saw the kid pass off an envelope to Judge Dubos, but I have never seen the kid before in my life. I can give you a description, but I have no idea who he is. God as my witness.”

  “So you didn’t give him that ink?”

  “Shit.” Big Mike grunted. “I’m an artist. I don’t do movie memorabilia. Check with Sergio or Polack Joe.”

  Nic believed him.

  “But now that you’ve dragged my ass into the middle of this mess, you damn sure better protect me.” He brought a beefy hand down onto the Formica counter hard enough to make the fake bomb jump. “I hope like hell you’re as good as everyone thinks you are, Chief, because this is exactly why no one ever sees or hears anything around here. They wind up in bloody chunks all over Bourbon Street when they do.”

  Nic couldn’t argue, as the ugly truth of the problems in the NOPD was a matter of public record. But he felt like slamming down his own fist on the counter in growing frustration. He’d gotten Big Mike to talk, all right, but Nic still didn’t have an ID on the kid who’d delivered the envelope.

  Instead, he had a death threat. He could talk to some other tattoo artists in town, but Nic had already considered that avenue. As Big Mike pointed out, movie memorabilia wasn’t exactly original. According to Violet, Great Eye guy wasn’t much older than she was. Who was going to admit to inking a minor?

  Unless they had proper documentation.

  Yeah, right.

  “You have my word,” Nic said. “Work with us and we’ll keep you safe.”

  Big Mike wasn’t the only one Nic needed to keep safe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE UNMARKED CRUISER was waiting for Nic in front of his mother’s house when he returned. The party was winding down, too, which would make the patrolmen’s jobs easier. Less traffic to keep their eyes on.

  Low visibility. High alert.

  Nic wanted to know everything happening within a one-block radius. No one got near this house unless the patrolmen knew.

  No fake bombs were showing up here.
No real ones, either.

  He’d no sooner climbed the porch steps when the front door opened. Megan appeared with her parents and Violet behind her.

  “Oh, hi, Nic,” she said, and the first thing he noticed was the purse over her shoulder and the keys in her hand. “Violet and I are running over to show my parents the house we’re looking at renting. We want Mom’s opinion on the yard.”

  He stopped on the top step and acknowledged her parents with a nod. “Reschedule. Now isn’t a good time.”

  He tried to keep eye contact with Megan, but she was still busy making nice with the folks, no less flustered than when he’d left her.

  “We won’t be long,” she said. “We don’t want your mother dealing with all the cleanup alone.”

  “I don’t want you leaving the house right now.”

  “How come?” Violet asked.

  Nic didn’t answer. Instead, he told Megan’s mother, “I’m glad I had the chance to officially meet you.” He extended his hand to Megan’s father. “Glad you both came. I’m afraid Megan and Violet will need to reschedule this trip.”

  Her father frowned and Megan glanced up at him, clearly startled. “Nic?”

  His mother chose that exact moment to show up and see her guests off. Of course, she didn’t miss a beat. Slanting a surprised glance between him and the unmarked cruiser, she asked, “Why do you have a patrol parked in front of the house?”

  Naturally, everyone followed her gaze to the street.

  Megan paled visibly. “Did something happen, Nic? Violet?”

  “Everything’s okay. The patrol is a precaution. I want the officers to stick close to you for the time being.”

  As far as Nic was concerned there wasn’t much else to say since he wasn’t offering details about the case.

  “Are my daughter and granddaughter in some kind of trouble?” Megan’s father asked.

  One glance at Megan assured him that her parents had no clue about the details of Violet’s visit.

  More secrets.

  “Don’t worry. It’s a precaution. I’ll make sure they’re safe. That’s all I can say.” The standard no-comment spiel.