Once More A Family Part 4

"Don't start, Gram," Tiny muttered, opening the door.

Riahelped the old woman out the door, then watched as Tina helped hergrandmother across the street.

Arms crossed against a wind that was suddenly biting and angry,Ria glancedtoward the entrance to the lot that was hidden behind the building. Though itwas the first day of summer, she was suddenly ice cold.

Chapter 3.

The third of the five Hardin sons and the next eldest after Grady, FlynnHardin had always remindedRia of a nineteenth-century pirate, with his tawnyhair flowing like a lion's mane to his wide shoulders and a gold, pirate'searring glinting in his ear. Of all of Grady's brothers, Flynn had always beenher favorite, maybe because he was so much like his big brother.

"I appreciate your help on this, Flynn. I know it's not your case."Riafinished refilling both their mugs and returned the pot to the warmer beforereseating herself at the table.

"No sweat, sugar. I'm honored to be asked. Gives me a chance to spend timewith my favorite sis-in-law."

"Your only sis-in-law at the moment," she reminded him gently. "And an ex atthat."

"Like h.e.l.l." His grin was crooked, but his eyes were serious. "A piece ofpaper don't mean squat when it comes to family."

The old longing to belong took hold before she could shake it off. During thenightmare days and nights after Jimmy's abduction, theHardins had put asidetheir own pain to offer comfort and support.

After the divorce, which no one wanted but everyone seemed to understand,they'd made it abundantly clear that she was still one of them. She wasinvited to every family function. Sarah still called with invitations tolunch. Mason stopped by the Center often, to share a cup of coffee and regaleher with his latest bunch of corny jokes. Flynn and the others called often,just to check on her. Only Kale, the closest emotionally to Grady, had seemedconstrained.

She lifted her cup and forced down a swallow of coffee. "Thanks for coming. Iknow you've had a long day."

"No problem." Looking deceptively lazy, he pulled a small black notebook fromhis pocket and flipped to a clean page before taking a pen from the pocket ofhis sport shirt. "Why don't you bring me up to speed on what's alreadyhappened? You said it was a case of crib death?"

"I hate that term," she muttered before pausing to order her thoughts.Dealing with Brenda's tragedy had served to bring her own into sharp focusagain. As always, when the pain hit, she took refuge in precision.Compartmentalizing her mind helped keep the grief locked down tight.

"The baby's mom, BrendaBenteen , was an in-house referral from my partner,Kate."

"Kate, the Ice Woman," he said after asking her to spell Brenda's last name."Now there's an interesting lady. Real tidy and b.u.t.toned up. Make's a man'sfingers itch to undo some of those b.u.t.tons."

He flashed her another grin-the wicked, slightly naughty one he and Gradyshared.

Flynn and Kate had met atRia's wedding. Kate had considered Grady's brother alightweight-pretty face, a gorgeous body and the emotional depth of paint. b.u.t.then Kate was drawn toward the slick, corporate types. Suits,Tova called them.

"Kate had been treating Brenda's baby daughter for severe colic for aboutthree months,"Ria said, "when one day out of the blue last November she got acall from one of Lafayette's finest, asking her to fax the baby's recordsdowntown. Naturally Kate being as much a fanatic about confidentiality as sheis about everything else, she asked him why, which was when the callous jerkcasually dropped the news that the baby had been found dead in his crib thatmorning."

Flynn winced. The lingering glint in his eyes disappeared in the span of ablink. "I a.s.sume Kate sent the records."

"Eventually. Her first concern was Brenda, of course. The poor woman was a wreck. Bouncing from hysteria to an almost catatonic state and then burstinginto wild tears again."Ria drew a breath. "My mother used to do the samething. It can be ... scary."

Flynn smiled back. "Yeah."

Rialet her smile fade. In her manic state Virginia had smothered her littlegirl with maternal attention, sometimes rousing her in the middle of the nightto dance in the moonlight to a tune only her mother could hear.

Riacame to dread those once-a-month days when her mother's welfare checklanded in the mailbox of their musty, dingy apartment house. With a crow ofdelight, Virginia would dressRia in her best and hustle her to the first of aseries of movie houses. Sometimes they would attend five movies in a rowbeforeRia could talk her mother into going back to the apartment for a mealand sleep.

Riahad lived a life of constant fear, never knowing when her mother's moodwould suddenly turn. Those were the worst times-dark, frighteninglyunpredictable times, when her mom would huddle beneath the covers of her bedand sob. School becameRia's respite. Her haven. The only order and security inher life.

Her caseworker, a raw-boned, homely earth mother named Alice Mansfield, hadtried to protect her, but she'd been hampered by the rules and regulations ofa system unwilling to deny a mother custody of her own child-even though thatmother was mentally ill.

She'd been in the sixth grade when her mother had tried to kill her byputting sleeping pills in her milk. It had made her deathly ill instead,finally giving Alice the ammunition she needed to end Virginia's parentalrights.

Riahad been made a ward of the court then. Instead of placing her in a fosterhome, Alice had taken her into her own. Her husband, Glen, was the pastor of asmall neighborhood church and the kindest manRia had ever met. She'd livedwith theMansfields until she'd gone off to college.

Her mother had died a few days beforeRia's fifteenth birthday. In many waysit had been a blessing for both of them.

"Kate gave Brenda a mild tranquilizer and stayed with her until she was ableto answer questions."Ria paused, trying to remember exactly what Kate had toldher. "Brenda swore the baby had been fine when she'd put her back in her cribfor her morning nap. She said she'd been putting a load of laundry into thewashing machine when her husband came home. He's a long-haul truck driver. Ithink he works for one of the local freight haulers, but I'm not sure whichone."

"You have a name for this guy?"

"Brenda calls him Monk. I don't know if that's his real name or not."

"I'll check."

Riathanked him with a quick smile. "Last night, my neighbor told me she'dseen Brenda and someone I think was Monk in the Center's parking lot." Shewent on to recount Mrs.Cocetti's story.

He digested that. "Have you ever seen signs of abuse? Bruises, for example?"

"No, nothing."Ria shook her head. "It's just something I feel, you know? Likeone of the hunches Grady used to talk about."

His smile saluted his brother before he returned the notebook to his pocket."It'll take me a few days to put it together."

"You have at least fourteen before I start bugging you."

"Fair enough," he said, reaching for his coffee cup. "Here's to a greatvacation."

"Thanks."Ria lifted hers in salute before she took a sip.

"Guess you know Grady's thinking about relocating to the west coast."

Shock stunned her into a temporary silence. "You mean, permanently?" sheasked when she found her voice again.

Flynn nodded. "A small town along the Oregon coast is looking to hire a chiefof police. Apparently Grady's at the top of their list. Last I heard he wasplanning to fly out there over the Fourth for a look-see at what they've gotto offer."

Riatook a sip, a large one. "He always said it was his life's ambition tobecome chief before Kale."

"Yeah, those two always were pushing and shoving about something. Gradygenerally came out on the bottom-until he grew into his hands and feet." Flynnleaned back and stretched out his legs. "Grady told me once that he'd onlystarted to like himself when you fell in love with him. Before then, he'dconsidered himself a born loser."

Stunned,Ria jerked her gaze to his face. His gaze bored into hers, dark witha truth she didn't want to see.

"Think about it," he ordered gruffly. "Kale graduated from college withhonors up thewazoo . The twins are music geniuses and me-" he shrugged, thenpreened "-what can I say? All-American in three sports."

She grinned and shook her head. "Modest, too."

"There is that." He glanced down at the plate that had once contained a moundof peanut b.u.t.ter cookies. Now there was one lone survivor.

"Be my guest," she said when he lifted a brow.

"Guess I will." He devoured half with one bite. "Grady wasn't special inanything," he continued, after wolfing down the remaining bite. "Unless youcall s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up, in which case he was A number one."

Outside, a siren wailed, and in the distance a dog joined in with an off-keyhowl.

"He told me once that he sometimes wished he'd been born crippled instead ofdyslexic," she admitted. "He said that when you had a visible handicap, peoplecut you some slack, but he just came across as stupid."

"Which he's not," Flynn said quietly.

"Yes, anything but." Grady could add a column of figures in his head fasterthan she could total them on a ten-key. He could remember the lyrics to songshe'd only heard once or twice. And he could read the needs of her body withthe sensitivity that took her breath.

Riastood up, too agitated suddenly to sit still. Heart pounding, she stalkedpast him to retrieve the coffeepot from the warmer.

She was just about to refill the mug he extended when the phone rang. Theanswering machine picked up on the second ring.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Flynn asked over the drone of her terse message.

"Not unless I have to. I'm on vacation, remember?"

"Ree, are you there?"

At the sound of Grady's distinctly husky voice, she froze, her gaze dartingto Flynn's. Before she could move, Grady spoke again. "Brace yourself honey,okay? It's about Jimmy."

"Do you hear the Charger?"

Without waiting for an answer,Ria jumped up from the easy chair by thefireplace she'd never used and crossed the living room to the bay windowoverlooking the street.

"Grady has different wheels these days," Flynn said from the sofa where he'dbeen for the past hour, playing solitaire on the coffee table.

Astonished,Ria turned to find him watching her with hooded eyes. "Where's theCharger?"

"He sold it and put the money in the reward fund. These days he drives abanged-up pickup he'd bought from impound and fixed up."

She took a careful breath before returning her gaze to the emptythoroughfare. Grady had spent hundreds of hours rebuilding the muscle car fromthe cha.s.sis up. In many ways he and his speed machine were exactly alike. Big,fast. Potentially lethal.

She remembered the first time she'd seen him climb out of that car and stalk toward her. She'd been working her way through grad school waiting tables inan Italian restaurant at night and on weekends. When one of her fellowwaitresses had been raped,Ria had been dismayed to discover just how pitifullylimited the resources for rape victims had been.

Consequently she and Kate, who'd been in her first year of med school, hadhelped found a hotline for victims. In order to raise money, one of thesororities had come up with the idea of a calendar featuring local hunks. Oneof Grady's younger brothers,Davon , had been dating a member of that sororityand, as a prank, had given them Grady's picture to use.

It had been taken one hot day in August when he'd been practicing with hisgrandfather's old Carbine. He'd been wearing threadbare cutoffs that barelycovered his tight b.u.t.tocks and a Lafayette PD ball cap pulled down low. Hishuge chest had been bare and sweat glistened on the curve of broad shoulders, running in meandering rivulets over the hard-packed musculature of his uppertorso.

The photographer had caught him in the act of slipping sh.e.l.ls into thechamber, his eyes narrowed against the sun as he'd looked up, his mouth asplit second into a grin. One big hand caressed the barrel of his rifle in apose so eroticRia had felt the impact all the way to the soles of her rattyold sneakers.

A feeling like a warm melting sigh ran through her as she remembered the wayher mouth had gone dry and her hands had curled around the stiff glossy paper.

The calendar had sold out. Mr. August had become an instant favorite.Ria hadbeen on the phone when he'd come charging into the hotline's cramped office,brandishing the calendar, his jaw hard and his brown eyes sparking withoutrage.

He was being ragged within an inch of his control by his fellow officers,he'd bellowed at her the instant she'd hung up. All because of a d.a.m.n picturetaken two years earlier and used without his permission.

Because she was alone and a little intimidated, she'd jerked her spine alittle taller and ripped into him.

"So what?" she challenged. "It's for a good cause. Or don't you care?"

His tawny brows drew together, and his chin came up. "h.e.l.l, yes, I care.That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"I'm a cop, d.a.m.n it. It's tough enough going against bad guys who've gotbetter firepower and faster cars, without having a d.a.m.n suspect drooling allover the arresting officer."

She fought the grin that tickled the corners of her mouth. "You have bad guysdrooling over you?"

His mouth slanted just enough to tease a shallow dimple into one lean cheek."More like one professionally badgirl I busted on the stroll near the busstation. Gave me this come-hither grin before going on and on about how Augustwas her favorite month, it being so hot and all. Offered me a freebie-and thenslapped my b.u.t.t when I was giving her the Miranda."

Riachoked on a laugh. "Did it hurt?"

"Only my dignity. It so happened the duty sergeant saw the whole thing." Hisvoice was more rough than resonant and was lashed with something that soundedsuspiciously like humor.

She knew now she'd started falling in love with him at that moment. And whenhe'd asked her for a date, she'd accepted.

After the divorce she'd tossed the calendar in the trash, then got up in themiddle of the night to retrieve it from the barrel she'd already set out forpickup. It was in the bottom of the trunk where she stored her wool sweaters.

She drew a ragged sigh. "He told me he'd be here in two hours," she said a.s.she paced back to the chair she'd just left. "It's been two hours and tenminutes."

"Maybe he got stuck in traffic." He put a red nine on a black ten.

"At 1:00 a.m.?"

Flynn turned over the last card, frowned, then let out a long-suffering sighbefore admitting defeat. "Are you sure I can't fix you a drink?"

"I'm too nervous. It'll just make me sick."

"Wine then?" he suggested, shuffling with the easy skill of a Vegas dealer."I saw some Grand Marnier behind the Scotch. How about a couple of fingers totake the edge off?"

"The only thing to do that will be seeing my baby again."

The cards slapped the table's gla.s.s top in a steady rhythm as he laid out thehand. Only then did he glance up.

"Ria, remember what Grady told you? The boy doesn't have any memory of hislife before he was abducted."

"Not consciously, maybe. But I've saved all of his things. His books, hisMatchbox cars. His Pooh bear." She nodded, folded her arms across her middleand nodded again. "You'll see. He can't help but remember Pooh."

His dark eyes held hers, his expression a little pitying. "He thinks his nameis Steven Wilson." He paused to add far more gently, "He didn't recognize hisown dad or the picture of you Grady had in his wallet."