Fifteen minutes passed before Chris went back to his laptop. Fifteen minutes spent watching Holly, the twins and Wally, torn between getting back to work and going out to join in the innocent play. But then he remembered that moment in the kitchen this morning with Holly, and the similar instances last night, and he told himself discretion was the better part of valor. The more time he spent in her company, the more he would want her. The more he wanted her, the more difficult it would be not to touch, not to taste. Not to run his fingers through the spun gold that was her hair and drown in those soft brown eyes. Not to carry her to his bed that had been empty and lonely for so long.
Just thinking about doing those things to Holly made him hard. Made him ache the way he hadn’t ached for a woman since Laura. Not just an ache. More like a hunger, really. And he wondered about that. What was it about Holly that pierced the iron shell he’d built around his body...not to mention his heart?
It wasn’t just that she was a good mother, as his mother had been, although that played into it, sure. And it wasn’t just that she was quietly lovely in a wholesome, All-American, girl-next-door way, although that was part of it, too. At first he couldn’t figure it out. Then it hit him. Holly trusted him. What had she said late last night? You’re wrong if you think anything your father did is a reflection on you, or that you could turn out like him...
Very few women who knew about Chris’s serial-killer father had ever looked beyond that fact enough to trust him. Really trust him. Laura had. Peg, too. And now Holly. Somehow she’d sensed that he didn’t have it in him to kill as his father had killed. That whatever had been missing in Matthew wasn’t missing in his son. She’d known Chris just a little over a day, and yet she trusted him with herself and her sons. Implicitly.
Which was another reason to keep his distance from Holly. Because even if she trusted him, he didn’t trust himself.
* * *
When Chris finally dragged himself away from the window, he sat down and began Googling for more information related to the article he’d read last night on Yahoo, the one he’d discussed with Annabel. As he’d told his sister, he didn’t believe in coincidences. Six years ago Josie had disappeared. At first everyone thought she’d run away because her boyfriend had dumped her. Then there’d been that period of time when Chris had feared Josie had been murdered, her body hidden in a remote location. But after the supposed sightings of Josie, he’d reverted back to thinking she’d run away for some reason. But what if she hadn’t just run away? Could her disappearance have anything to do with the death of the drug lord with the same last name as her foster parents?
But the more he dug, the more questions he had...because he couldn’t find anything on the death of Desmond Carlton. Not a single story. Not even a reference to Desmond Carlton in a related story before his death six years ago. The only mention of the man Chris could find anywhere was in the article from the day before.
That could mean only one thing. Someone—or a group of someones—had gone to a lot of trouble to erase Desmond Carlton’s existence.
Chris picked up his smartphone and hit speed dial. “Brad?” he said when a voice answered. “It’s Chris. I need you to run a trace for me. And this one’s not going to be easy. I need you to track down any references you can find to a Desmond Carlton.” He spelled the name carefully. “Or to a couple who may be related, Roy and Rhonda Carlton... Yeah, same last name. All I know about Desmond Carlton is he was a drug lord who was killed six years ago. As for Roy and Rhonda, they used to be foster parents, so there’s got to be some kind of record of them with the state—criminal background checks, home inspections, the works. Oh, yeah, and they died in a car crash about five years ago.”
He listened for a minute, then said, “No, there’s no case to charge this to, but I’ll clear it with payroll. Oh, and, Brad, when I said this one wasn’t going to be easy, I meant it. You’re not going to find anything on Desmond Carlton on the internet—I already looked. You’re going to have to hit the main libraries in Fort Worth and Dallas, see if you can turn something up the old-fashioned way. And if that doesn’t work, try the offices of the Star-Telegram or the Morning News. I’m betting there will be articles in their morgues,” he said, referring to the newspapers’ private archives.
He listened for another minute, then laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I called you. The younger guys wouldn’t even know where to begin if they couldn’t Google the name.” His laugh trailed away. “Call me the minute you find out anything. And, Brad? Watch yourself, okay?...No, no, this isn’t like the Winthrop case. But no one knows I’m looking for this info. Someone whitewashed the search engines, and until I know why...Yeah, exactly. Thanks, Brad.”
Chris disconnected. His fingers flew over his laptop’s keyboard and he pulled up the article he’d been reading the night before. He quickly skimmed through it again, noted the originating newspaper was the Dallas Morning News and jotted down the byline. “The guy must have dug deep to get as much as he got,” he murmured to himself. “Good thing I told Brad to check those newspaper morgues—I’ll bet a dollar to a doughnut that’s where this guy found the link.”
He thumbed through his smartphone’s contacts until he found the number he wanted and hit the dial key. It rang three times before it was answered.
“Hey, Taylor, Chris Colton here...Yeah, long time.” He shot the breeze with his old college buddy for a few minutes, then said, “I need to talk with one of your fellow reporters...No,” he added drily at a question from the other end. “No, I’m not planning to give a scoop to a rival—any scoops I have go to you, you know that.” Chris rolled his eyes, glad Taylor couldn’t see him. “I just need to ask a few questions about an article this guy wrote, so I need his direct line.” He gave Taylor the reporter’s name and jotted down the phone number he was given. “Thanks, Taylor, I owe you one.”
Never one to let grass grow under his feet, Chris had no sooner hung up than he was dialing the new number. But all he got was the reporter’s voice mail. He thought about it for a few seconds, and before the recorded message finished Chris decided not to leave a callback number and disconnected.
He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment, then called Taylor back. “Hey, buddy, it’s Chris again. I need another favor. Can you set up a one-on-one for me with your colleague?...Yeah, him. ASAP.” After a few seconds he said, “No, nothing like that.” Realizing he’d need to reveal a few more details to convince Taylor, but not wanting to say anything about the possible connection to Josie, he dangled a carrot. “I might know something about a perp in a story your colleague wrote that he would find very interesting.” It’s not a lie, Chris reminded himself. If the two cases are connected...
“Okay, thanks. Call me when you set something up. You’ve got my number.”
Chris checked his work email again while he waited to hear back from Taylor, scrolling through quickly, skimming and scanning as was normal for him. Three cases had been successfully resolved during his brief absence from the office, and he answered with “Attaboy!” messages, CCing the entire staff. It never hurt and cost him only a minute or two of his time. He paid all his staff well, especially his investigators—anyone who wasn’t worth the salary Chris paid didn’t last long at Colton Investigations. But money wasn’t the best motivator—recognition was. Chris had learned that early on in his career. He’d just clicked Send on the last email when his cell phone rang.
“Hey, Taylor,” he answered. After a minute he asked, “Where?” followed by “When?” He wrote swiftly. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll be there.”
As soon as he hung up he hit speed dial. “Bella?” he said when his sister answered. “You’re off today, aren’t you? I need a big favor.”
* * *
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Holly said furiously when Chris told her he was going out but that Annabel was coming over to watch her. “If that’s what you think, you’d better think again.”
“Not a babysitter,” Chris explained patiently. “A bodyguard.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not.” There was something implacable in his face, in his voice, and Holly knew she wasn’t going to win this argument...unless she took her boys and stormed out of the house. Which would be a stupid “cutting off your nose to spite your face” kind of thing to do.
“Look,” she began, but Chris stopped her.
“No, you look. Do I think the McCays will find you here while I’m gone? No. But am I willing to take that chance? No.” His blue eyes had gone cold, but there was something fierce in their depths that reminded Holly of an eagle’s basilisk stare. “No one is dying on my watch ever again, you got that? I made myself responsible for you—and you agreed to it.” He was breathing heavily now, as if he’d been running...or as if deep-rooted emotions were taking their toll on his body. “I’ve already lost—” He broke off, as if the rest of that sentence would reveal more than he wanted. “You agreed to let me protect you and your sons, Holly,” he said after a minute, a little calmer now. “You have to let me do it my way.”
“But—”
“No buts. My way, Holly.”
She was going to keep arguing, but then she heard Peg’s voice in her mind. Chris needs to do this, Holly. I can’t explain, but he needs to do this. So just let him take care of you and your boys.
She breathed deeply once, then again, and pushed her independent spirit aside for now at the sudden reminder. She wouldn’t always knuckle under to Chris—it wasn’t her nature and it wouldn’t be good for him anyway. But in this instance, maybe he was right. There was only a chance in a thousand something could happen to her or the boys while Chris was gone, but that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. She wasn’t willing to risk it, either, not when it came to Ian and Jamie.
“Okay.” She held up one hand before he could say anything. “Okay, this time. When are you going? And when will your sister arrive?”
Chris glanced at his wristwatch. “Annabel will be here in about fifteen minutes. I’m not leaving until she gets here.”
Holly let the tension drain out of her muscles. “I’d better check on the boys—they’ve been quiet too long. Then I’ll make lunch.”
* * *
Chris was long gone. They’d eaten lunch, after which Chris had left and Holly had taken the twins to the master bedroom for their nap. Then, with Wally at her heels, she returned to the family room, where Annabel was reading a magazine she’d brought with her, Law Enforcement Technology. Holly had given Annabel the silent treatment during lunch but realized with a touch of remorse it wasn’t fair—Annabel was just doing her brother a favor, and giving up her free time to do it.
Before she could speak, though, Annabel said, “Your kids are really cute.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Holly chuckled, taking a seat at the other end of the sofa. Wally plopped himself at Holly’s feet, and she reached down to ruffle his fur before saying, “You’ve only seen them after they’re worn-out playing ball with Wally. Wait until you see them after their nap, when they’re reenergized. The word rambunctious was created with Ian and Jamie in mind.”
Annabel laughed. “Kids are like that. All kids. But women still keep having them anyway.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “I wouldn’t mind...” She didn’t finish that sentence, just tossed her magazine to one side and asked, “How old are Ian and Jamie?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Identical twins? They look like it, but have they been tested to know for sure?”
Holly nodded. “Identical. Even so, Chris can already tell them apart.”
“Really.” There was something in the way Annabel said that one word, something meaningful. Not a question, just an acknowledgment of what that said about Chris.
Holly nodded again. “He’s incredibly observant.” She started to say “for a man” but realized that wasn’t true. Chris was incredibly observant, period.
“That’s what makes him such a good PI,” Annabel stated. Then she laughed softly. “Of course, that wasn’t always such a great thing when I was in high school.”
“Chris admitted he scared away a few of your boyfriends.”
“That’s an understatement!” Annabel’s laughter softened into a reminiscent smile. “I tease him, I know, but he’s a great brother in most ways. When we finally reconnected in high school—”
“Reconnected?” Holly’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, reconnected?”
Annabel looked surprised. “Didn’t you know? We were all sent to different—” Then she stopped. “You do know about our father...and our mother...don’t you?”
Holly nodded. “Chris told me the first time we met.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound like Chris. He doesn’t tell many people.”
“He was trying to make a point,” Holly said. “I think he wanted to shock me.”
“Now, that does sound like Chris,” Annabel replied. Her expression turned somber. “And it’s not like it’s a secret—just about everyone in Granite Gulch knows.” She was silent for a moment. “Well, if you know what happened, then I would have thought you’d know when our mother was killed and our father went to prison, the whole family was split up. We were all sent to different foster homes.”
“Oh, Annabel...” Holly tried to imagine someone doing that to Ian and Jamie, and could hardly fathom it.
Annabel sighed, then continued. “That’s what I meant when I said Chris and I reconnected in high school. We were eleven when we were separated. We didn’t meet again until then.”
Holly didn’t know any way of expressing the pain that speared through her for the brother and sister who’d been so ruthlessly torn apart. All she could say was “Oh, Annabel” again.
“Chris and I were close growing up. I was a bit of a tomboy—do they even use that word anymore? But we did nearly everything together. He was always protective—not just toward me, but toward our younger brothers and sister, too. Our mother’s death and the separation only exaggerated that trait in Chris. So when we reconnected in high school...” She shrugged. “There were some bullies who tried to pick on me because of...well, because of our serial-killer father. Chris helped me put a stop to it.”
“It sounds like him.” After she said it Holly was struck with the realization that she’d known Chris less than two days, but she already knew this much about him. It didn’t seem possible...but it was true.
Holly still had questions about Chris, however, questions she didn’t really want to ask him, and this seemed like the golden opportunity. She looked at Annabel and blurted out, “What was Laura like?”
Chris’s sister thought for a moment. “Sweet. Pretty. And she had a gentleness about her that was very appealing, especially to a man like Chris.” She hesitated, then added, “Chris was her world, and whatever he did was right. Good in some ways, not so good in others.” Annabel looked as if she could say more, but wouldn’t.
Holly digested this, then asked, “How did she die?”
“Viral meningitis.”
“Oh.” Holly stared blankly at Annabel. “I thought that was treatable.”
“It is...if you treat it in time. There was an outbreak in Fort Worth, and somehow Laura was exposed. She had all the classic symptoms—headache, stiff neck, fever. But she never mentioned it to Chris. By the time she called her sister, Peg—you know Peg, right?” Annabel said in an aside. “Isn’t that what Chris said?” Holly nodded and Annabel continued. “By the time Peg rushed her to the doctor she was in a really bad way. She was airlifted to Baylor Medical Center in Fort Worth, but she didn’t make it—she died en route.”
A wave of empathy for Chris enveloped Holly, because she could relate. Grant had been airlifted from the scene of the traffic accident that had taken his life, but he hadn’t made it to the hospital, either. “How horrible for Chris,” she whispered.
“He took it hard,” Annabel confirmed. “Especially since he blamed himself.”
“What do you mean? How could he— If Laura didn’t tell him she was feeling bad, how could he have known?”
“That’s something you’re going to have to ask him,” Annabel said with a guilty expression. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that much.” She sighed suddenly. “But here’s something maybe you should know, something Peg could tell you but probably didn’t. Laura was four months pregnant when she died.”
“Oh, my God.” Holly covered her mouth with one hand. Suddenly the statement Peg had made about Chris the last time she’d seen her friend made complete sense. “Peg told me—she said she couldn’t really explain, but she said Chris needed to take care of the twins and me. And I should let him. This must have been what she meant.”
“Probably.” Annabel’s blue eyes—so like her brother’s—held Holly’s gaze. “You haven’t known Chris very long, so you might not understand. Chris has a very stern conscience. He would never admit it, but he fervently believes in atonement. He knows you can’t change the past, no matter how much you might want to. But he does believe you can make up for it—if you’re willing to pay the price. And he is.”