Between Love and Duty (27 page)

Not until the little ones were done eating and had left the table with Lupe’s permission did Papa say, “I’ve been thinking.”

Lupe and Tito looked at him.

“Lupe, it’s okay if you say no. If you are happiest living here. But I think it must be hard for you, with so little help from Raul. What I was thinking—” he took a deep breath as if for courage “—is that perhaps we could rent a house big enough for all of us. One with a yard for the children. Some nights you wouldn’t have to pay for child care because I would be home. And perhaps Tito would help, too.”

Tito felt a strange, warm rush of feeling. Papa did want to help his daughter. And Tito hadn’t wanted to leave Lupe alone, or not see the little ones very often. Mateo and he…they were tight. Boys needed a big brother to look up to, didn’t they?

“I also want to tell you I’m sorry that I got so angry yesterday morning. That I scared you. I was wrong. It’s true that I should be glad other people are trying to do the right thing for you, Tito. I think I was jealous because Duncan—” he said the name awkwardly, as if it didn’t fit the shape of his mouth “—went to school so much longer than I did. He has money and is important. But…he could be a good friend for you, Tito, and I should be glad of that.”

Should? The word caught Tito’s attention like a burr grabbed fabric. Did that mean Papa really wasn’t glad?

Maybe, but at least he had admitted why. He’d come right out and said he was jealous. It took a brave man to admit that. Tito felt his eyes sting. He ducked his head. Men didn’t cry.

Lupe was talking excitedly. A real house? With a yard? Perhaps the neighbor lady could come there, to their house, to babysit when Papa couldn’t and Lupe had to work. “Tito, what do you think?” she asked at last.

He had overcome the desire to cry by then. He squared his shoulders and sat with pride. “I think it would be great if we could all live together. A family. I’d like that.”

His father smiled, such a big smile Tito suddenly remembered the papa he’d loved when he was still a little boy and life was less complicated.

“Duncan said he would like to keep spending time with you, if you want,” Papa said. “You like him, don’t you?”

Tito swallowed. “He’s been nice to me. And I’m getting really good at basketball!” He eyed his father nervously. “He helped me with homework, too. Especially math.”

“Ah.” Something flickered on his father’s face. Sadness, perhaps, but also acceptance. “I thought so.” He looked again at Lupe and then at Tito. “Well, then. No more movies this month, Tito, or hamburgers and pizza. I must save my money for the house so we can all be together. Okay?”

Lupe glowed, looking more like herself. Younger.

Tito grinned at him, pleasure bursting inside him. “Okay!”

Papa might be short and not so good at basketball. He might not be able to answer every question the way Duncan could. But Tito felt so proud. His father had showed that he was a strong man. A big man, not a small one at all.

And I can still be friends with Duncan, too.

He was old enough to know that life wouldn’t always be so perfect. Old enough to know that his father would disappoint him again in the future, and that he would probably disappoint Papa, too. Still feeling warm inside, he grappled with the notion as he jumped up to help Lupe clear the table.

Mistakes were okay, he finally thought in amazement. It was admitting them and doing better that made a man. The kind of man he, Tito, wanted to be.

MIDMORNING, JANE TOOK a call from Niall who told her that Hector definitely was out of the running as her stalker. She thanked him and left a message for Judge Lehman, telling him that she wanted to continue supervising Tito’s visits with his father.

Hector himself called her in the middle of the afternoon to ask her permission to have dinner with his family. He sounded…humble, she finally realized.

“I’m ashamed of the way I acted yesterday,” he said. “I upset everyone. Tito wouldn’t even look at me afterward.” He hesitated. “I didn’t used to be angry all the time. I don’t like it.”

Wow.

“We all understand why you’ve been angry,” she said. “I’ve never told you this before, but I read the transcript of your trial. I think it was wrong that you were convicted. I believe you were only defending yourself.”

“I was drunk,” he said simply. “Foolish drunk. To have gotten into an argument with someone like him was stupid. I never meant to kill him.”

“I think Tito will figure that out.”

“I don’t want him to think that’s how a man acts.”

“Have dinner with your family tonight.” She was smiling despite her bleak mood. “In fact, why don’t we resume the original plan? You can have dinner there as long as Lupe is with you and Tito.”

“Thank you.” His voice sounded thick.

Only after hanging up did she start to wonder what had effected the sea change in him. What if he was playing her? Was he gloating, thinking,
stupid woman?
But, despite her qualms, she didn’t believe it. She thought he’d been sincere.

Take off your rose-colored glasses, Duncan would say. Had said. Her answer was,
Not happening.
The greatest miracle in her life was that she
could
believe in people, and she intended to keep right on doing so.

So why hadn’t she believed in Duncan?

But she knew. Of course she knew. Having faith in people one step removed was way easier than when
she
was the one who might get hurt.

Call him.

She thought about it for the rest of the day. After closing, she went so far as to drive over to his house but saw no lights on inside. On a rush of guilty relief, she realized he might not be home for hours. Of course, she couldn’t sit out here waiting forever. Maybe it would be better after all if she phoned him. He might not actually want to see her. On a wash of misery, Jane admitted that she could hardly blame him if he didn’t.

She went grocery shopping, loading up her cart until the total bill startled her. Too many comfort foods, but she refused to regret buying them. If she’d ever needed comfort, it was now.

It was getting dark by the time she reached home. Jane eyed her house uneasily as she pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to lift. She’d feel better if she’d left more lights on. Especially the outside lights. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and clutched it in her hand.

It was still there when she drove into the garage even before the door was all the way up, then hit the button on the remote to reverse it. In the rearview mirror, she watched as it went down again, finally settling into place with a clunk and sigh.

Okay. Tension trickled out of her and for a moment she leaned back and closed her eyes. She was securely locked in again. Time to pull herself together. Jane popped her trunk, grabbed her keys and purse and got out of the car, then remembered she’d left the cell phone on the seat and leaned in to get it. She dropped it in the loose pocket of her linen jacket.

She was bent over the trunk, reaching for grocery sacks, when she heard a whisper of sound behind her. A footstep? A fireball of fear went off inside her and she tried to spin around. She bashed her head on the trunk lid, saw stars—and hard arms closed around her from behind. Something sharp pressed against her throat. A knife blade.

“Did you expect me, bitch?” the man murmured in her ear.

The grocery bags fell from her hands.

DUNCAN DIDN’T LET HIMSELF express his restlessness in any physical mannerisms, even though he was bored out of his skull. A meeting regarding the regional drug enforcement task force that should have taken an hour had stretched to two and a half. The county sheriff was an elected position, which might explain why the current sheriff had risen beyond his level of competence. His main goal here seemed to be ensuring that the sheriff’s department got ample credit for any arrests even though Whatcom County, also involved, was a far larger agency. The several larger cities within the region had collectively provided as many officers to the task force as each of the counties had.

Duncan caught a grimace on the face of one of the police chiefs, who then looked embarrassed to be caught. But, damn, would somebody shut this guy up?

The Whatcom County sheriff obliged by heaving himself to his feet. “Lowell, sorry to break this up, but I have business this evening. We’ve covered the main points, haven’t we?” His gaze traveled the room. There might have been a twinkle in his eyes at the multitude of vigorous nods. “Good,” he said. “I suspect we can clear anything else up by email. Great to see you all in person.”

Chairs slid. Empty foam coffee cups hit the metal bottom of the trash can by the door. There wasn’t quite a jostle to escape the room, but close.

Duncan didn’t hurry to his SUV. His house would be empty and dark. Jane’s, he thought, would probably be bright enough to be seen from a satellite. He didn’t like thinking about how scared she’d be. He kept hoping— unreasonably, he knew—that she’d call. Say, “I didn’t mean it.” Or was he supposed to do the apologizing?

But he was uncomfortably aware that a call from him could be construed as harassment, given how blunt she’d been.

Obviously, I gave you the wrong impression. I’m correcting that now.
I’m
not your business.

Oh, yeah, she couldn’t have been much clearer.

He checked his cell phone even though he would have felt it vibrate. No missed calls. With a sigh, he unlocked the vehicle door and got in. There were probably a couple of people here who wouldn’t have minded joining him for a meal, but he wasn’t in the mood. He’d find something in the freezer at home.

SHE KNEW THAT VOICE. Richard Hopkins. Of all the people she’d dealt with as Guardian ad Litem, he’d made her the most uncomfortable.

“Drop your purse,” he whispered. When she didn’t unclench her fingers fast enough, the knife bit into her skin and she felt a trickle of blood run down her neck like beads of sweat. “Now.”

The purse fell with a clunk. So much for hoping to slide her hand in and find the pepper spray.

She tried frantically to think. The alarm would blare soon if she didn’t turn it off. Would he know that? Did it matter? Maybe he intended to kill her here and now.

It did matter, because he nudged her toward the control panel. “Do what you have to do,” he told her. “I’ll slice your throat if that thing starts screaming.”

Maybe it would be better if he did slice her throat now, versus taking his time about it. Jane shuddered. No. Wasn’t there a chance that he didn’t actually intend to kill her? Despite his every hint to the contrary?

Blood, viscous and pungent, splattered and sprayed on the walls.

A hint, Jane thought hysterically. That was like calling death “passing away.”

She felt the bump of the phone in her pocket as he turned her. Her adrenaline surged. With Duncan on speed dial she could push only two buttons…but Richard would hear the ringing. She imagined him slamming the cell phone to the concrete floor of the garage. Having to watch her only link to the outside shatter.

Oh God oh God oh God please help.

Text. Could she text silently, by feel alone? Did Duncan have his phone set to ring or only to vibrate when a text came in? She’d bet on the latter. But…could she do it by feel alone? Her breath hitched in a near sob. She didn’t dare swallow. Step by terrifying step, she was being pushed to the control panel by the door leading into the house.

What if she thought she’d succeeded in texting him but really had pushed the wrong button? Or whatever he got was incoherent? Though that would alarm him, wouldn’t it? Or what if he tossed his phone aside the way she’d seen him do when he got home and didn’t notice that it had vibrated?

She had to try.

She tapped the sequence of numbers on the control panel first and saw the light flash to indicate it was satisfied. They could go in, where normally she’d reset the alarm by the front door. But she wouldn’t be doing that, would she?

Jane stumbled on the step and the blade bit deeper. In her fear, she felt it as no more than a sting. She had her right hand in her pocket, where she started pushing buttons.
Oh God oh God, she’d forgotten the tiny beeps.

“Why do you blame me?” she asked loudly. “I don’t understand. I haven’t been in the picture for years.”

Focus. Remember what the screens look like.
She thought she had clicked on a New Message screen that would go to number one on speed dial—Duncan.

She kept talking. “You could have built a good relationship with your daughter.”

Her thumb kept moving. She scraped her feet to drown out the tiny beeps.

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