Reunion (6 page)

RJ stood in the doorway of the dining room, a smile
plastered to his face, despite the swirl of emotions in his gut. After a
horrendous day of doctors, psychologists, police, and press—the little house
finally felt manageable. Not that he wasn’t happy that they were all here,
together. There really were no words to describe the relief, the happiness at
having Grant’s daughter returned physically unharmed. At four years old, the
girl was smart—she knew the boys had taken her, knew they were gone, too, but
she would be okay. RJ was certain of it.

Thank God for Michael Enwright’s team. It didn’t
matter where they’d been in the process—talking with the cops? Graeme was there
to help with the answers. Official statement to the FBI? Attorney Cade McMartin
was there to advise. From Doc Gabe to the press secretary—Enwright had someone
to usher the client through the myriad pitfalls that could potentially delay
the family’s reunion with the newly recovered victim. More than ever, RJ wanted
to be a part of that team, but he was beginning to think his permanent return
to the valley might cause relationship problems for Grant and Patti in the
future. The last thing he wanted to do was create an uncomfortable situation.

For the last hour, he’d drifted between the
doorway and the kitchen, drawn repeatedly to the scene of familial contentment.
Grant was seated on the corner of his long couch, Patti curled into his side,
and the beautiful Annie sound asleep in a ball on his lap. The three of them
were picture perfect—as if nothing bad had ever happened. Christ, Annie even
looked a little like Patti, with her strawberry blonde hair and brush of
freckles over her cute little nose. They looked like they fit. And damn if RJ
wasn’t uncomfortably aware that he should probably go. Then the others could
get some rest—everyone was running on reserve power and draining quickly.

“Psst…”

RJ’s head snapped up, and for a second, he
wondered if he’d really been thinking about the day or had actually fallen asleep
standing in the doorway. He blinked toward the living room and saw Grant’s
smile aimed in his direction.

“Psst…come here.” His whisper carried over the
Sponge Bob theme music that was playing for at least the third time.

RJ walked over to stand behind the couch and
rested his hand on Grant’s shoulder. Looking down, he realized Patti was asleep,
too, her head nestled between a cushion and Grant’s shoulder, one of Annie’s
legs across her lap.

“How you doing, Grant? Can I get you anything?” he
asked quietly, touched once again by how beautiful they looked together.

“You don’t have to hover and wait on us. You look
dead on your feet. Come cuddle up next to Patti and we can all nap.”

“No, that’s okay. I was trying to decide if it was
better if I left so you all could get some rest or if I should…uh…get dinner.”

Grant laughed softly. “Don’t tell me you learned how
to cook. And if you won’t sit on the couch, get that stool and pull up behind
me, so we can talk without breaking my neck. I don’t remember you being so
tall.”

RJ did as bid and sat behind the couch, their
faces close together so they could whisper without waking the girls. “Optical
illusion. You’ve always been taller than me. And…cook? Yeah, that’s a problem.
I was thinking about calling for delivery, but I couldn’t find any take out
menus.”

“What? A genius like you never mastered cooking?”
Grant gave a little sort then shook his head, his face suddenly serious. “RJ? Do
you…have someone? I mean…a lover or someone to take care of you?”

It was RJ’s turn to smile. “Always wanting to fix
things for me, Grant. No, no lover. A few dates here and there, but nothing
serious. Honestly, I wasn’t home very much. My job—well, it consumed me the
first few years. Then I got this idea—for that tracker—and I started working on
it at night. If I wasn’t working, I was at the gym. I guess learning to cook
just wasn’t on my radar. The company cafeteria and take out were all I needed.
How about you—looks like you got pretty serious about someone. At least once,
huh?” He looked down at the sleeping child, then back into the familiar hazel
eyes. “What about now?”

Grant was already shaking his head before the
question was finished. “No, that was the thing. Michelle and I weren’t serious.
I mean, obviously we screwed around, but…” Grant looked down at his sleeping
daughter, then brushed his hand over her hair. “She’s…” He swallowed hard. “She’s
the best thing…so much more…” Grant transferred his gaze to meet RJ’s. “I don’t
have the words to tell you what it means that you helped to get her back.”

RJ moved his hand, reaching again for Grant’s
shoulder, but his old friend leaned into the touch and he found his fingers
entwined in Grant’s soft brown hair. He brushed a silky curl between his thumb
and forefinger, lost for a moment in the memories. Then the past merged with
the present.

“Come ‘ere,” Grant whispered.

“I don’t—” RJ looked down at Annie. This wasn’t
right on so many levels. Sure, he’d wanted to move back to Phoenix in hopes of
seeing Patti and Grant again—but he’d thought they were all still
single—without a child. And he’d definitely harbored thoughts of Patti…he
couldn’t deny that. But Grant? Yeah, that was someplace he rarely allowed
himself to go. At least not consciously…because goddammit! It wasn’t like he was
in the closet. Not really. He’d had hook ups with men and women over the years.
He enjoyed them both, but nothing had ever come close to what he’d felt with
Patti and Grant together. Nothing. And you just couldn’t live like that out in
the real world.

“RJ…stop thinking and kiss me.”

Blinking back into focus, RJ looked over at the
man who’d taken him in so many ways, so many firsts. Unable to look away, as if
an invisible filament tied them together, an electric current running between
them, RJ was pulled deeper into the magic of Grant Anderson. Slowly,
inexorably, they leaned into each other. Close as a breath, until a scant
millimeter was all that separated them.

“Don’t run from me this time, RJ. Let’s just see
how this plays out.” The words whispered over RJ’s lips and then were lost in
the soft press of mouth against mouth, the gentle swipe of tongue.   

“Mmm…that’s nice to see.”

Patti’s whisper snapped RJ’s head back like a
blow. He jumped to his feet, stumbling slightly when his knee bumped into the
stool where he’d been seated. He wiped nervously at his mouth, feeling…hell.
What was he feeling? Guilty. Definitely guilty.

“I’m sorry, Patti. I know you wanted…I didn’t
mean…” Fuck. How did you tell one best friend you weren’t trying to encroach on
her love interest? Especially when said love interest was another best friend
and it had been pretty clear you damn well were encroaching?

Jesus.
He was confusing himself. He needed
to get back in the lab—people were too fucking hard. Not that… He felt the heated
flush start working its way up his neck and into his cheeks, and hoped like
hell his complexion was hiding the blush.

“Sorry…I uh, need to call the hotel. I’m pretty
sure they cancelled my reservation. I need to see if they can uh…”

“Daddy?” The soft voice froze everyone in place.

“Hey, my angel. We didn’t mean to wake you.” Grant
stroked the soft red curls. “We were just talking about what to get for dinner.
Are you hungry? What sounds good to you?”

“Pizza,” the little girl responded immediately. “Just
us, right, Daddy?”

“Just us? What about Patti and RJ? How about we
invite them, too?”

The silky curls bobbed with her nod. “I mean just
us in the house.” She looked at Patti. “You’re not leaving, right? You said…”

“No, sweetie. I’m not leaving. RJ’s not leaving
either, okay?”

Annie looked over at him through her lashes, her
smile a little shy, a little uncertain. Hell, he felt uncertain too, so he just
smiled back and hoped he didn’t look scary.

“You brought my daddy to find me. And you brought
us home.”

“Oh, hey. Anytime.” RJ cleared his throat and
searched for something intelligent to say. “I’ll go get the pizza. Where should
I go?”

“Menu for Jo Jo’s is in the top left drawer next
to the sink. Cheese for the munchkin…and you know what I want.”

Patti raised a hand. “Veggie for me…but RJ, uh,
can I talk to you in the kitchen for a sec?” Patti asked. She lifted Annie’s
leg from her lap and rose to meet him. In the kitchen, she kept her voice low. “Two
things—first, you can’t go get the pizza. Remember? Michael made the deal we
would stay put with his guys keeping an eye on the place for tonight until the
police clear everything. Once you order the pizza, call Marcus and tell him so
he can let the delivery guy through, okay?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. That doctor is coming back
to check on Annie, too, right?”

“Yeah—that’s my friend, Gabe. He should be here in
about an hour, but so far, I think Annie is doing great.”

“She seems like a terrific kid. She’s not exactly
what I thought a four-year-old would be like,” RJ said.

“You mean like a mini-adult? She’s pretty smart,
but with two teachers as parents, I expect she’s just picking up on the cues
around her. I see plenty of four-year-olds at the park. One minute they’re
talking about the canyon or river…whatever catches their interest. Then like a
switch, they go into meltdown when they get too tired. I’m sure hers is coming.”

“Okay, I consider myself warned. You said two
things…what’s the other?”

“Oh, right. No apologies. Whatever happens, or
doesn’t, between any of us. None of us needs to apologize to the others. Grant
was right…you think too much sometimes,” Patti whispered.

“Yeah, but you wanted—”

“Stop. Don’t finish that sentence. When I’m ready,
and we have this god-awful two days completely behind us, then I’ll be the one
to tell you what I want. Don’t assume you know what that is, querido.”

Stepping close, Patti pressed a quick hard kiss
against his mouth. “Order the pizza. Don’t forget, Grant likes—”

“Anchovies,” they finished together on a laugh,
memories of their college days floating to the surface again.

Stifling a yawn, Patti resisted the urge to crawl
onto the couch and collapse. It was still early by her usual standards, but
over the last two hours they’d eaten dinner, put away leftovers, and Gabe stopped
by to check on Annie. He’d asked a few questions, then left a business card and
orders to call Enwright Security’s consulting psychologist within the next
couple of days. Michael had called, as had the agent in charge from the FBI,
and Detective Parker. They all planned to arrive by nine in the morning. Patti
was running on a thin thread of hope that, by lunchtime tomorrow, most of this
disruption would be over and Grant and Annie could get back to their lives.
Then maybe she and RJ could see if there was room in Grant and Annie’s lives
for either—or both—of them.

With the house finally empty of visitors, and the
phone on silent for the night, things should have been settling down, but
instead, tension was rising. Patti wondered if the four-year-old was the only
one headed for a meltdown. Grant had been close to a state of shock ever since
Parker jumped protocol and notified them that the dead kidnappers had been
nothing more than boys—students from one of his government classes. He’d barely
spoken since receiving the news, other than to say he didn’t want to talk about
it tonight.

Now Grant stood in the hallway, looking down at
his daughter, hands on his hips, towel draped over his shoulder, deep lines
etched in his face. When he repeatedly told Annie it was time for a bath and to
get ready for bed, his voice came out a tired rasp.

The little girl’s lower lip pushed out and Patti
could see the argument forming. She moved before there was a flash flood of
screaming tears. Stepping between them and putting a hand to Grant’s forearm,
she asked a question designed to refocus his attention.

“Grant? Are you sure the two of you would like us
to stay? RJ’s making noise about going to a hotel, again. You only have the two
bedrooms and well…”

“Nooo,” Annie wailed. “Daddy, make them stay,
please? They can sleep in your bed, it’s big enough. Like a sleepover…”

Before Grant could answer, Patti squatted down. “Hey,
short stuff. How about I help you with the bath, and Daddy can go talk to RJ?”

Annie threw her arms around Patti’s neck. “I don’t
want you to go. You saved me.”

“Aw, come on. Let’s get you ready for bed and I’ll
read you a story, okay?”

Taking Annie’s hand, Patti led the girl to the
bathroom. Behind her, she heard Grant’s chuckle as he turned away.

“Hear that, RJ? We’re having a sleepover. Everyone
in my bed…doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Across town, Franklin Kendrick paced seven long
steps north, turned sharply and then took the same seven steps south. And
again. And yet again, as the recent events played over in his mind. Phone calls
poured in throughout the day at the district and the high school offices.
Secretaries and student aides were replaced on the phones by senior
administrators as they struggled to field the calls from concerned parents and
the rabid media. As if anyone could be expected to have answers regarding the
deaths of two high school seniors killed after kidnapping a teacher's child.

As a vice principal in one of the largest schools
in the Scottsdale Unified School District, Frank's office had plenty of room
for pacing, but if he stayed here too much longer, the office lights would draw
attention. Despite the long days most teachers worked, administrators were
rarely here after hours this late in the academic year. Tonight had been an
exception, with many on staff staying later than usual, but everyone had
finally gone home. Everyone except him.

The last thing he needed was the local police
making a detour to his office during one of their routine patrols. Or worse…tempting
a hungry reporter looking for an inside angle on an already sensational news
story. Most of the investigation would focus on Desert Thunder High School, the
two dead boys, and the teacher—Mr. Anderson. Eventually, though, it was likely the
police would come talk with the administrators at all the high schools.

As he turned, Frank caught sight of his reflection
in the large picture window and jerked to a stop in surprise. His hair stood in
wild tufts, the tail of his shirt stuck out from one side of his waistband, and
his tie was askew. He looked like a mad professor. Definitely not the image he wanted
to project. Raking shaky fingers through his hair, Frank started to put himself
back to rights. After tucking his shirt back, he straightened his tie, and
smoothed his palms over his slacks.

With short, jerky steps, Frank moved to his desk
and added his datebook to the small pile of personal belongings he was going to
take home. After a long minute, he removed a photograph from his wallet,
tracing his finger along the worn edge, as he did nearly every day. Two
beautiful faces looked back at him, caught forever in the happy moment of
Annie's third Christmas and Michelle's last.

How could she have betrayed him that way? Anderson
was nothing more than a sperm donor and blood wasn't thicker than love. The man
was a stranger, with no right to what was Frank's. Annie should have come back
home to him when Michelle died. Then none of this would have happened.

After a deep sigh, Frank pressed his lips to the
photograph, then tucked it inside his datebook. He reached for his jacket and
draped it over the top of the box, hiding the contents just in case there was
still someone else on campus. Turning out the lights, Frank confirmed the
parking lot was empty. Tucking the box under one arm, he shuffled his way out
the door, feeling a hundred years old.

Two dead boys. Dear God. What could they have been
thinking? This wasn't his fault. It
couldn't
be his fault.