Appreciating the fact that Charlize had remained upstairs until his siblings left, he texted her as soon as he’d heard them go and then confirmed that they’d all left. Telling her that he was pulling dinner out of the freezer, and inviting her to do the same.
The half-hour meeting had extended to over an hour—mostly with them out in the dining room alone, probably waiting to see if he’d return.
Though he warred with himself, he purposely hadn’t done so. With CI headquarters also serving as his home, he had to have firmly established boundaries around his personal life.
They all had their own personal spaces.
And he suspected they didn’t leave empty trays in the middle of their own dining room tables. But was glad to see that they’d finally eaten. The manila envelope was there, too, its contents neatly back inside.
Of course, Charlize’s gaze would land right there as she came downstairs to join him. She didn’t say anything, but he saw her gaze linger there. She’d recognize the emblem up in the corner, designating her doctor’s office.
“Do you have rules against eating upstairs?” she asked him, reaching into the freezer for a bag of chicken alfredo and some broccoli. Had she not been there, and with the family worried about Brody, the CI group would most likely have had dinner together that night.
“You can take food upstairs if you’d like, but you don’t need to go on my account,” he told her, a little disappointed to know that she didn’t want to eat with him. But greatly relieved, too. His food was already in the microwave or he’d have let her go first.
“I’m going to be heading straight back to my office,” he continued, wishing the ten minutes it took to defrost and cook could miraculously pass in five. “I’ve got a pileup waiting there for me, not only with RevitaYou, but also with a cold case I’m working for another client.”
And Riley had a 7 pm phone call that he hoped was going to blow the Shannon Martin case wide open.
“It’s not good for you to be cooped up in just one small room,” he said, just as Pal came in through her doggy door and into the kitchen, nuzzling Charlize’s hand.
“I don’t want to impose,” she said, not just patting the dog’s head, like someone who wasn’t familiar with the animal might do, but scratching the side of her throat, and rubbing a hand down her neck.
“Pal’s always happy for the company,” he said. “And there’s a small family room down the hall off the other side of the office,” he added. “You can watch TV or find a book to read. Or whatever. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
He wanted to make himself at home. All over her. Wondered if, in all her reading-people ability, she’d ascertained as much.
If so, the information didn’t seem to bother her. Charlize was comfortable around him.
And he liked it. Wanted them both to be comfortable enough to get more comfortable. As in, without all the clothes hanging on them.
“I’ll probably eat down here,” she said, leaning back against the counter as she continued to stroke the dog. “I don’t like food smells in my bedroom.”
He’d never been an eat-in-bed kind of guy—not the food kind of eating, at any rate. Making a meal of her posed some interesting ideas...
“You showed your siblings the ultrasound photos?”
Right. That provided the cold shower he’d needed.
He nodded. Watched the clock on the microwave tick down seconds, with too many still remaining.
“What did they say?”
Shaking his head, he reached for the rare second beer. Uncapped it and took a sip. Sometimes a guy just needed to be allowed to relax for a second. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I didn’t hang around.”
Her reaction made him defensive. It wasn’t the lack of words, so much as the assessing look that came over her face, almost as though she’d quit merely looking at him and was studying him instead.
“I have no answers of my own. How can I be expected to answer their questions?”
“I’m certain that I’m not meant to be married, to raise a family.” He said what she already knew, sounding like a broken record even to himself. “And yet, here I am, about to be a father.”
She nodded again. Offered nothing but that. And her continued attention. As the microwave whirred.
“I can’t just walk away from that.”
There. The words were said. An admission made. To himself, first and foremost. To himself, more than her. He wasn’t going to be able to walk away.
“So what does that mean?” Her question came with three minutes still left on his dinner.
“I guess it means that we have to figure out some kind of co-parenting plan.”
The words struck terror within him. But he knew they were right as soon as he said them.
“I’m not envisioning a fifty-fifty split, or two houses as home. But...something that involves more than just my financial contribution. He or she needs to spend time with me. And my siblings.”
It wasn’t just his right to claim the time, but his responsibility. His ethical and moral duty. Some might not agree. He kind of wished he didn’t see it that way. But he did. He was who he was.
Not sure what to expect from Charlize, he watched her face soften. “I’d like that,” she said, sealing his fate.
He’d seen a little moving body. Heard a heartbeat.
He’d become a father—whether it fit him or not.
She hadn’t intended to leave her room after dinner. Charlize had eaten downstairs, had even wandered around a little bit, because to know her surroundings was healthy—and because she didn’t want to go stir-crazy. The “little” family room wasn’t all that little. Six kids could have grown up comfortably in that room, watching TV, playing games. And she discovered a door to a finished basement, too, though she only walked down a couple of steps, didn’t really explore that level at all. There was a large bathroom with pedestal sink on the first floor. And a locked room off the main office. She avoided the study.
Everywhere she looked, the wood floors were pristine. Area rugs were all solid wool, the best quality, and freshly vacuumed. She’d gone back upstairs feeling less like a prisoner in her own life.
And more curious than ever about every single aspect of Riley Colton’s life. It was like, seeing his home without him there peering over her, blocking himself from her, she could sense a bit of the boy and then young man he’d been, growing up in that house. And she wanted to know them both.
Another place she hadn’t looked was behind his bedroom door. There were just some things that weren’t smart. And she couldn’t afford to borrow that kind of trouble.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d been so preoccupied with the journey around the dwelling, with imagining Riley Colton in all of his ages, occupying the space, feeling his presence in every room, and imagining her child growing up with visits to this house, she wouldn’t have forgotten the thermos of iced water she’d prepared for herself after dinner. She’d brought the container from home so that she could keep drinking water upstairs just the way she liked it. Ice-cold. And hadn’t realized she’d left it down on the counter until almost an hour after she’d re-ascended the stairs, stepping quietly so as not to disturb Riley.
She’d heard his voice coming from behind the closed door of his office. Sounding professional, not personal, she’d noted. And then admonished herself for making the observation. What he did with his life was entirely his affair.
As long as it didn’t affect her baby—and since the child wasn’t even born yet, who Riley was or wasn’t friendly with couldn’t possibly affect the baby—then it didn’t affect her, either. No matter what her heart or body might try to convince her to believe.
It wasn’t even eight yet. Chances were he’d still be working. Leaving her shoes off, she tiptoed barefoot down the stairs, only to have him come barreling out of his office on the way to the kitchen and grab hold of her as he barreled into her.
“Charlize!” He sounded surprised. More than surprised. And quickly let go of her.
Had he forgotten she was there? Perhaps her silent approach hadn’t been the best one. And where was Pal?
Almost as though she’d sensed, or seen, the activity in the house, the German shepherd came in through the doggy door. Looked at the two of them and plopped down on a corner of the dining room carpet, lying there watching them.
“I just came down to get some water,” she half stammered, trying not to notice how great the man looked, how alive and vital, even after a full day’s work, coupled with a good bit of emotional turmoil. She didn’t want to disappear back upstairs, to be locked away alone in the back bedroom. She wanted to sit with him wherever he was. To touch him.
And absorb some of the energy that had reached out to her so headily the night she’d met him.
“I was heading in the kitchen for something to drink, as well,” he told her, walking beside her. She’d noticed him take a bottle of beer into his office with his dinner. Maybe the alcohol was adding a bit of jaunt to his step.
When he reached for an individual-size bottle of apple juice instead, she couldn’t help asking, “What’s got you in such a great mood?”
Not that she was judging him, but he’d been verging on disgruntled, at best, since they’d become reacquainted.
“I’m about to deliver some very good news to a young man who’s been waiting over a decade to receive it,” he told her. His beard seemed to grow in inches as he smiled at her.
Cocking her head, she couldn’t help smiling back. “Is it something you can share?”
Nodding, he told her about the disappearance of Shannon Martin over a decade before.
“The case has never been closed, but it’s been stagnant for the past couple of years,” he told her, walking back through to CI’s main office. With her thermos in hand, she followed him, as though on some invisible leash. “Her brother hired me to see what I could find out.”
A woman missing more than ten years. That couldn’t be good. And yet...
Maybe just giving a family closure, solving the case, was enough of a high for Riley Colton.
“I’m guessing you found something,” she said, intrigued. And standing way too close to him. The way he looked at her, drawing her in as though she was an intimate part of his moment, kept her there.
He nodded. Told her about a jazz shoe manufacturing company. About the manager he’d spoken to. And the name of a father who’d been abusing his little girl. About Shannon Martin witnessing the abuse in a back, unused room of the dance studio where she worked.
“I recognized the man’s name,” he told her. “The guy wasn’t just abusing his daughter—though that would have been enough to put him away forever as far as I’m concerned. As it turned out, he was part of something much bigger, sharing pictures on the internet, hurting potentially hundreds more people over many years. Shannon’s testimony in his trial had helped tip the scale with the jury, and also established a propensity and an ability to commit horrendous crimes.”
“I’m guessing he had a lot of power. And money.” She could tell where this was heading. The man must have had the key witness killed. It happened more often than anyone wanted to admit.
Which was why so many in neighborhoods all across the country were afraid to come forward, to speak up. People like Laurene and many of the other women she counseled included.
“He did,” Riley confirmed with a bit of a nod, taking a sip from his bottle of juice, still vibrating with...satisfaction, she now knew.
“So now the brother will know...will be able to at least have closure...” She thought about some of the things she’d seen and heard, working with the police and court system, as she was working to protect abused children.
“Were you able to find her body?” she guessed. If the family could give her a proper burial...
Still, she felt awful for them. And for young Shannon, who’d only stepped forward to do the right thing.
“I was,” he said. “Sort of. I don’t know exactly where...” His sentence was cut off by a knock at the front door, which she hadn’t seen used in the time she’d been at his house. She’d only been there for the past twenty-four hours or so.
Still...it felt like she was one of them already...
And that was a very, very dangerous road to walk, she was telling herself as Riley told her to hang on and went to answer the door. Noticing the hand on his gun, his quick glance through the peephole, she was surprised to see how quickly he pulled open the door, as though he’d been expecting someone.
He’d said he was about to give some news...
She’d thought he meant by phone.
She turned to go...
“Charlize,” he called to her, “I’d like you to meet a client of mine. Avis Martin.”
The brother of Shannon Martin?
In his late twenties or so, the man was stunning to look at. The shoulders, barely tamed by the dress shirt, tapering down to a muscled torso the tie couldn’t hide. Long legs in dress pants and slip-ons that walked with authority. If she hadn’t been standing there with the only man in the world who could possibly eclipse him, Charlize might have wanted a second look.
As it was she opened her mouth to excuse herself, but Riley spoke first.
“Charlize is...a friend of mine...” The words prevented her from taking another step. He’d just claimed her as a friend. To one of his clients.
That was huge to her. Shouldn’t be, maybe, but it was.
“Good to meet you.” The other man nodded, his hands in his pockets. Maybe his glance lingered for a second, but no more than that. Expression completely serious, and...guarded...he glanced back at Riley.
“You said you had some news.”
“I do. And if you don’t mind, I’d like Charlize to be present while I tell you.”
News to her. The glance Riley sent her was apologetic. Completely. And while she sensed that he really wanted her there for some reason, a professional one, she also got the idea he’d just figured out that she could be of assistance.
She got it, though. She was a counselor and the man was about to have final confirmation of devastating news.
She suggested they move to the family room. And by the blink of Riley’s eyes, the way he cocked his head and frowned a bit, she knew he was surprised that she’d suggest such a thing. She was guessing that the family room was usually off-limits to CI customers, but this wasn’t going to be all about business. Avis was never going to forget the coming moments and anything they could do to give him a warm second in those memories, they had to do.
Luckily, Riley didn’t argue with her, but rather, followed as she led the man into a room that, as far as he’d have known, she’d never been in.
So she’d just given herself away for the snoop she was. He’d told her she could make herself at home. And could kick her out if he didn’t like it. For now her thoughts were only on preparing the man as best she could to grieve his older sister’s death.
She sat on the couch. Invited him to take a seat. “I’d rather stand,” he told her.
Joining Charlize on one of the three couches in the room—albeit on the end opposite of her—Riley suggested that the younger man take a seat. With a nod, Avis Martin perched on the edge of a chair across from them, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped while his thumbs met and did their own nervous dance.
“As I told you, I have some news,” Riley started, looking deadly serious now. “But before we go any further, I need to know if you’re capable of keeping this to yourself for the rest of your life. And if, no matter what I tell you, you’ll agree to do nothing with the knowledge except find peace from the knowing.”
“He can’t really make an agreement like that, Riley, not without knowing what he’s going to have to carry.”
“I disagree,” Avis said. “I’ve been without Shannon for more than ten years. I’ve learned how to love the spirit and soul that she was. If you’re afraid I’m going to try to get some kind of revenge, or get justice...” He shook his head. “What good would it do? Except to prolong the anger. I want to move on, Detective. To have a more normal life. As I told you when I called, I’d like to fall in love, have a family someday. But I can’t. Not until I know...it’s like I’d be asking a woman to take on a broken man with no answers. One who’s always wondering, always looking at women on the street, in stores... I just need to know. To put this to rest.”
Riley looked at her, brows raised. “What do you think, counselor? Do you think there’s a good chance, given what he just said, that he’ll be able to keep his word to leave well enough alone?”
The question was odd. And yet, if they were dealing with some kind of cartel, or mafia connection, she got it, too.
“Counselor?” Avis asked. “You an attorney?” He was frowning, now, too, looking between her and Riley.
“I’m a family counselor,” she told him. “A clinical social worker. I’m truly not here because of you,” she assured him.
“But you know what he’s going to tell me.”
She did, of course, because she’d figured it out, but shook her head. “He hasn’t told me yet, either.”
Avis looked at Riley.
And in clear, concise words, without stating any names or places, he told the young man that his sister had been witness to a crime and had agreed to testify to save hundreds of people from potential further harm.
“Hundreds?” Avis’s voice broke. His eyes glistened. Charlize surmised that he’d figured out where this was going, too.
“At a minimum,” Riley told him. “Her accounting to the police was the missing piece. It came from out of nowhere, a crime they hadn’t even been looking at him for, but it was enough to put him away forever.”
If Charlize hadn’t already thought herself in love with Riley—only to discover the feeling to be a figment of her own fantasyland—she’d have fallen a little in love in those moments, as Riley’s intensity helped the young man feel how important his sister’s sacrifice would have been. The incredibly selfless choice she’d made.
“He got to her. Killed her before she could testify in court,” Avis said aloud what Charlize had known. His tone was deadpan, but she knew it had to cover myriad feelings it would take months, maybe years for Avis to deal with. She also believed he was finally on the way to finding his own happy, healthy life.
Riley’s shake of the head startled her, but she was so focused on Avis, she didn’t really comprehend it.
“He’s on death row for federal charges.”
Tears flooded Avis’s eyes then. And Charlize’s, too, though that usually didn’t happen when she was working. “She succeeded,” Avis said, his voice taking on a new note. Satisfaction, at the very least, Charlize’s professional opinion told her. A step toward closure.
“She testified and put the bastard away,” Riley said.
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“I do.”
Lips pursed, Avis nodded, his gaze never leaving Riley. “That’s what you needed my agreement for,” he said. “I’m not going to get to bring her body home to the family plot.”
Riley shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
Avis stared at him, then very slowly nodded again, his Adam’s apple moving up and down as he struggled to control obvious emotion. “Do you know where her body is?”
“No and I’m not going to, and neither are you.” Riley’s tone was menacing.
“Okay. Seriously. You gave me what I needed.” He stood. Held out a shaking hand. “There is no thank-you that will ever express...”
“We aren’t done yet,” Riley said, still seated on the couch.
Avis dropped back to his chair.
“Your sister isn’t dead, Avis.”
“She’s not?” Charlize and Avis spoke at exactly the same time.
“She’s in witness protection.” Riley dropped the news with all of the seriousness that famed program deserved.
“What does that mean?”
“Shannon’s name isn’t Shannon anymore. She isn’t living a life anyone can trace. She can’t ever look for you, or in any way attempt to contact you. And if you even so much as say a prayer too loud in her direction, you could be putting her life in jeopardy. Because there are still people who aren’t on death row. People who will be looking for Shannon. And if for one second they thought you knew something, or were in contact with her...”
The man dropped back in his chair, his head fully supported by the cushion behind him, and laughed out loud. A hearty, full-bodied release.
“She’s alive,” he said, as though trying on the words, through a huge smile. “I’ve learned to live my daily life without her,” he said, looking to the two of them. “And you have no idea...no idea...” He stood. “It’s like...all these years... I’m free...” He laughed again. “My big sister is out there. Alive. Living life. She wasn’t raped or tortured or sold. She did the right thing and...” He shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. “I just can’t believe it. I wish my parents had lived to see this day, but then, they probably already know.” He turned a full circle. And then faced Riley, who was standing now, too.
“Do you know anything about her? Is she married? Does she have kids?”
Riley shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “The marshals who contacted me because I was getting too close and needed me to back off can’t say, and even if they could I wouldn’t ask. Just as I need you to keep your word, and never mention this to anyone. Your safety, and Shannon’s, depends on you both going on with the lives you have now—separately.”
“I understand,” Avis said. “I wish there was some way she could know I know...”
“Maybe she does.” Charlize stood, too. “People, when they’re related, close, they sense things...”
Not everyone believed in spiritual things, but if Avis did, the reminder would serve him well.
They talked for a bit longer and then she walked with the men back toward the front door.
“You know,” Avis said, turning just before they reached the door. “Our father used to say, ‘Will it matter thirty years from now?’ As though if not, we’d realize something wasn’t such a big deal, but suddenly I’m thinking...who knows what the future can bring? By the time we’re in our eighties, the danger...won’t matter so much. Even if it put our lives at stake. So who knows? Maybe someday, when I’m old and gray I’ll be approached by an old lady with my sister’s shining blue eyes...”
With another handshake, he thanked Riley again, and Charlize watched as the hard-core ex–FBI agent turned professional investigator patted the younger man on the shoulder, telling him to take good care and call him if he ever needed anything.
She watched and smiled, choked up. She was proud of the father of her child. The work he did. Glad that her baby had him for a father.