To Save a Child--A Clean Romance

by Linda Warren

  In the kitchen he pulled Grace aside. “You really don’t have to do all of this.”

  She glanced to Grandpa at the stove. “Oh, I think I do. It’s helping him to deal with his grief.”

  Cole could see that. Grandpa was energized and seemed happy.

  “Grace, we have to watch this turkey,” Grandpa called.

  “Okay,” she called back.

  He stared at her and wondered how someone could be filled with so much good. She didn’t have any bad habits, except for biting her nails.

  “What?” She caught him staring. “Flour in my hair?”

  “Highlights,” he said and tried not to smile. “Grandpa, I’m going.”

  Grandpa waved a hand. “Go. Grace and I are fine.”

  “Have a good time,” Grace told him.

  He thought about that as he got into his truck. Visiting with Harlan Myers was not his idea of a good time. He’d agreed to do it, and he tried to never break his word. But he and Stephanie would soon have to talk about their relationship.

  The Myers family lived in Westlake, a very expensive neighborhood. There was a wrought iron fence around the big two-story home. He drove through the gate and parked at the front of the house. Several cars were near the garages. He glanced at the well-manicured lawn and walked to the front door. A maid in a black uniform and white apron answered the door.

  “Cole Chisholm,” he said.

  She opened the door wider, and he stepped in.

  “Cole!” Stephanie shouted and ran into his arms; the scent of perfume drifted to his nostrils. He held her for a moment, and she drew back and looked down at his feet. “You wore your boots.” She fingered his jacket. “And a sport jacket.”

  He held out his arms. “This is me.”

  She patted his chest. “It doesn’t matter. Come meet my family. They’re in the den.”

  The house was glittery—that was the only word he could think of to describe it. Like a photo from a magazine, everything was in its place and everything looked expensive, from the polished floors to the paintings on the walls to the chandeliers. The den was much the same, with comfy chairs and sofas and a large area rug. Everyone held a wineglass, and they stood as he entered the room. Stephanie introduced him. He shook hands with the brother and his wife and the sister and her husband and Harlan and his wife, Kay. Four children sat on a small sofa, two boys and two girls. The boys wore white shirts with bow ties and slacks, and the girls wore frilly dresses with bows in their hair. They didn’t move or show any reaction, and he thought they looked like mannequins sitting there. Usually kids were running and playing.

  Harlan poured him a glass of wine. The man was of medium height, and there wasn’t a speck of gray showing in his dark brown hair.

  Cole took the glass and sat on a love seat with Stephanie. They talked about Thanksgiving and sports, and then Harlan leaned forward in his chair and said, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Cole.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve never had a case where you were involved on the other side.”

  “No.” Cole didn’t understand why the man was turning the conversation to him, but he could play it cool.

  “I have a new client, and I think you know him.”

  “Who?”

  Harlan swirled his wine for a second and then replied, “Joel Briggs.”

  Nothing showed on Cole’s face. He made sure of that. “Yes. I met him yesterday, as I’m sure you know.”

  “He’s getting a rough deal from the police department and asked for my help.”

  “The police have treated him very fairly. I’m not sure what his beef is.”

  “He wants his daughter, and I’ve been hired to make sure he gets her.”

  Without skipping a beat, Cole said, “I thought you were a criminal defense attorney.”

  “I wear many hats.”

  “For Joel Briggs to get his daughter, he first has to be cleared in Brooke Bennett’s death.”

  “I’ll see to that, too.”

  Cole carefully set his wineglass on the coffee table. “Mr. Myers, you and I have nothing else to say to each other.” He stood and turned his gaze to Kay Myers. “Thank you for the invitation, but I really must go.”

  “Daddy, you promised,” Stephanie accused.

  “Harlan, how could you! You’ve ruined Thanksgiving.”

  Their voices trailed away as Cole headed for the front door and his truck.

  “Cole!” Stephanie called, but he kept walking.

  She caught him as he opened the door of his truck. “Cole, wait.”

  “Whatever you and I had, Stephanie, is over.”

  “Because of my dad?”

  “Did he pressure you to invite me?”

  “I invited you weeks ago.”

  “But the last couple of days he’s pressured you, right?”

  “Yes, but that has nothing to do with—”

  “You’re right, it has nothing to do with us.” He waved his hand from her to him. “You and I don’t jell. I like my boots, and I love my grandpa. I’m never putting him in a home, even if I have to quit my job to take care of him.”

  As he crawled into his truck, he realized the love he thought he’d never gotten as a child he’d gotten tenfold. He just hadn’t recognized it.

  “When you cool off, we’ll talk.”

  “Don’t call me ever again.”

  As he drove away, one thought ran through his mind—with Myers as Briggs’s attorney, he would turn the custody battle into a power play. He’d confuse and intimidate the judge until Briggs would be granted full custody of Zoe.

  Cole planned to combat that power. He drove to his office to do more digging. He had to find out more about Joel Briggs, even if it was Thanksgiving.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EVERYTHING WAS COMING together for Thanksgiving dinner. Grace thought the dressing was a little dry, so Mr. Walt added more broth. She had no idea how it was going to taste—Mr. Walt was the chef, and he was guiding her hands on everything.

  The dinner was just about ready, and they were waiting on the rolls in the oven.

  “Oh, no, Grace, we forgot the flowers. Cora always bought flowers for the table on Thanksgiving.”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “No worry, Mr. Walt. I’ll figure out something for decoration.”

  She went to her room and searched around and came back with a red wool cap of Zoe’s that had a white fuzzy ball on the top. She fitted it over the napkin holder. “How’s that? It looks like a flower with a white bloom.”

  “Yes, it does. But what will we use for napkins?”

  She reached into the cabinet and pulled out more napkins. “These.”

  “Okay, we’re just about ready.”

  “While waiting on the rolls, I’m going to change. Keep an eye on Zoe, please.”

  From cooking in the kitchen, sweat clung to her body. She took a quick shower and changed into skinny jeans and a white turtleneck sweater. After brushing her hair and putting on lipstick, she slipped on her boots. Now, she was spruced up and ready for the holiday.

  When Mr. Walt saw her, he said, “My, you’re as pretty as a speckled pup in a red wagon on Christmas morning.”

  “Huh...thank you.”

  “Watch those rolls. I’m going to change, too. I’m all sweaty.”

  When he came back, he had on a clean shirt that wasn’t flannel. He’d combed his hair, and she caught a whiff of Old Spice. She hugged him around the shoulders. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Walt.”

  Mr. Walt carved the turkey, and they ate. The food was better than she had expected, and she really liked the sweet potatoes. Grace was nervous about the pumpkin pie, but Mr. Walt loved it and so did Zoe. Mr. Walt finally pushed back from the table.

  “That was just like Cora cooked. T
hank you, Grace.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Walt.”

  “Now I’m going to take a nap.”

  Grace cleaned up Zoe and put her down for a nap. Then she cleaned the kitchen and crashed on the sofa. Rascal’s barking woke her. She glanced at the old clock on the wall and saw it was almost three o’clock. Good heavens! She jumped up and went to get Zoe.

  She played with the baby for a while until she noticed an old record player and records in a corner. “Mr. Walt, are those some old albums?”

  “You betcha. Seventy-eights. Cora and I used to go dancing every Saturday night at the VFW hall. Bertie and her husband would be there, too. We always had a good time. As we got older, it wasn’t quite so often, but we still went dancing, until...”

  The words hung in the air. Grace didn’t mention Jamie. Suddenly Mr. Walt got up and went to the record player and pulled out an album. “Do you like to dance?”

  “I used to, but after my mom’s injury, I didn’t have time.”

  “You ever heard of Ernest Tubb, Ray Price or Bob Wills?”

  “No.”

  “Well, young lady, you’re going to learn something.” He reached for an album and put it on the record player. Grace was surprised that it worked. Chords of “Waltz Across Texas” filled the room.

  “Let’s move this coffee table and roll back the rug.”

  “What?”

  Before she could blink, Mr. Walt had pushed the coffee table toward the patio doors. She helped him roll the rug toward the sofa. He hurriedly started the record again, and she found herself waltzing around the living room with Mr. Walt. Then he put on an Elvis Presley record and “Jailhouse Rock” came on. She jitterbugged until she giggled like a teenager, as Mr. Walt danced the sadness away with memories of olden times.

  It was a moment out of time for her, too. She hadn’t thought about Brooke and her death all morning. But the future was waiting just beyond the Chisholm home.

  How she wished Cole was here.

  * * *

  COLE WAS ELBOW-DEEP in Parker’s files, and he hadn’t found anything out of sync. It was frustrating. The squad room was almost empty since it was a holiday, so he went to the internet to see if he could find out anything about Joel Briggs. He learned that Briggs’s parents moved to Austin when he was twelve. He didn’t attend a Texas college, nor did he play for a Texas NFL team. He only came back to Texas after he retired.

  His parents had moved into the Westlake area a few years ago. They probably were friends with Myers and his family. The connection fit. He wondered, though, why Briggs’s parents didn’t want to see their grandchild. He had no clue about that one. Unless they didn’t know about Zoe.

  He sat back in his chair, trying to figure out how he could get personal information about Briggs. Cole found lots of information about his football career and his statistics, but very little personal information, even on Facebook and Instagram.

  He snapped his fingers. He had it. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and called Lamar. It was Thanksgiving, but he would only keep him a minute. The man answered immediately, and there was a lot of noise and chatter in the background.

  “Hey, Lamar, happy Thanksgiving.”

  “You, too, Cole. Wait a minute.” There was a long pause. “Dori wants to know if you need Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “No, thank you. That’s been taken care of.”

  Lamar shouted to Dori, and it was a moment before he came back.

  “I won’t keep you, but I was hoping I could get LJ’s number from you.”

  “You can talk to him yourself. He’s right here.”

  A little luck for a change.

  “Hey, Cole, what’s up?”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, man. I’m glad you made it home for the holiday.”

  “I flew in early this morning and fly out early this afternoon, but I wanted my wife to see where I come from. I wanted her to see my roots.”

  “That’s great, LJ.”

  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “I wanted to see if you knew Joel Briggs. He’s involved in a case I’m working on, and I have very little personal information.”

  “Before he retired, we played against his team a few times. He’s a bruiser. He’ll hurt you if he can. He’s put the hurt on a lot of quarterbacks.”

  “Yeah, I know all that. I was hoping for something more personal.”

  “Well, his wife used to attend the games.”

  Cole sat up straight in his chair. “He’s married.”

  “I think he’s divorced. When we played them, she was in the stands. I guess someone alerted the camera people, and the camera was on her a lot. She’s a model, a gorgeous blonde.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Oh, man, I can’t remember. It something short like Kati or Jilli or...Niki... I think that’s it. I know the name ended in an i.”

  “Thanks, LJ, this helps a lot. Enjoy Thanksgiving.”

  “I wish I had time to bring my wife to meet you.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  “You got it.”

  Cole went back to the internet, searching for models with the name Niki. It didn’t take long before he found her: Niki Reed. He sent her a message on Facebook telling her who he was and saying he needed to talk to her as soon as possible. He gave her his cell number. Since it was Thanksgiving, he probably wouldn’t hear back from her until tomorrow. Or she might not answer at all. She must get thousands of messages. But she might give him something to go on, something about the breakup of her marriage. But he had a sinking feeling he was running out of time.

  He stretched his shoulders and realized he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten all day, and it was past four in the afternoon. He wanted Thanksgiving dinner, and he knew where to find it.

  On his way to Horseshoe, his cell buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID: Niki Reed. He hadn’t expected her to call so quickly. He pulled over to the side of the road.

  “Ms. Reed, I’m glad to hear from you so quickly.”

  “Why did you leave me a message? Is something wrong? The girl who takes care of my social media said the cops were looking for me.”

  “I’d like to ask you some questions about Joel Briggs.”

  “Joel? For heaven’s sake, I haven’t seen him in years. I’m on a shoot in France, and I don’t have time to talk about Joel. As a matter of fact, I’d rather not talk about him at all.”

  He told her about Brooke and Briggs and what had happened. “I don’t want to invade your privacy, but could you tell me a little bit about what happened in your marriage?”

  “I didn’t enjoy being hit. The first time, he said he was sorry and he didn’t mean it and I let it go. The second time, he said he was sorry and would get counseling. I believed him. He didn’t, and I packed my bags and left.”

  “That’s the same story Brooke Bennett told.”

  “Then she’s telling the truth. He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. My face is my living, and I wasn’t letting him screw that up. He’s good at lying. He lied to me so many times. I thought one day we would have children, but then I found out he had a vasectomy before we even met.”

  “What? Wait a minute. He had a vasectomy?”

  “Yes. He told me there was no use for birth control because he had a vasectomy to keep from having unwanted babies. He doesn’t want children, and he forgot to mention that little fact when we were dating.”

  Cole told her about Zoe.

  “Well, I guess he could’ve had it reversed, but I’d be very skeptical about that. He was adamant about not having children back then.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Reed, for taking the time to call me back. This is going to help a great deal.”

  After she clicked off, Cole sat there thinking. This was the missing piece that w
ould make everything fit together. Make everything make sense. But it didn’t. If Joel wasn’t the father, then who was? It might explain why Zoe didn’t live with Brooke and Briggs. If she’d cheated on him, why did he let her stay? The question bugged him, because he couldn’t figure it out.

  It occupied his mind all the way to his grandpa’s house. He had to ask Grace more questions to see if he’d missed something. As he opened the back door to tell Grandpa he was home as he always did, he heard music. Music?

  He walked toward the living room and stopped in his tracks. Grandpa and Grace were dancing, and the music was turned up loud. Zoe sat in the Pack ’n Play clapping. How did this happen? How long had he been gone?

  His grandpa noticed him. “Oh, Cole, come dance with Grace. I have to sit down and catch my breath.”

  A slow Ray Price song came on, and Grace drifted into his arms. Without a second thought, they moved to the beat and sailed across the living room floor. It seemed as if he’d danced with her all his life. Bo’s mom had taught Bo and Cole how to dance, and they’d stepped on her toes many a time. But today he wasn’t stepping on Grace’s toes.

  The music stopped, and they swayed together as one.

  “The song ended,” she said.

  “I know. This is nice.”

  “Yes,” she replied in a soft voice.

  “Hey, the record stopped. Fix that, Cole.”

  Sometimes his grandpa was really annoying.

  He closed the record player, rolled the rug back into place and pushed the coffee table to the center of the room. “Now I’m ready to eat Thanksgiving dinner. I hope there’s some left.”

  “Oh, yes. We have plenty left.” Grace hurried to the kitchen.

  Zoe stretched her arms over the Pack ’n Play. Cole lifted her out and patted her back. It was quite easy now to hold her. It was natural.

  “Bring her to me,” Grandpa said, and Cole placed Zoe in his lap.

  “Don’t let her go to sleep, Mr. Walt.”

  “Oh, she’s always harping about that.”

  Cole walked into the kitchen and watched as Grace put things into the oven.