Dead Even (25 page)

Those FBI types, though, they worried him. There were at least two men with Cahill. Were they guarding her, or someone else? And were there more than two? He couldn’t see what was going on in the front of the house.

He walked along through the frosty dawn, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t just drop it, walk away with what he had. He’d already come to the conclusion that Vince wasn’t going to hand over the rest of the money unless Cahill was a done deal.

The questions were, What were the risks of doing Cahill, and was the money worth it? Worth it to go ahead and do her, or worth it to walk away?

He’d have to sleep on it. Rest for a few hours, have a nice big breakfast, then reevaluate the situation with a clear head and a full stomach. All those FBI agents around the house had made him nervous.

Then again, the thought of all that money, just waiting for him someplace, pricked at his streak of greed. All that cash, just waiting for him . . .

It would be a toss-up which would win out in the end: fear or greed.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Mara paced anxiously in the kitchen, wondering when her daughter would come downstairs for breakfast—if she’d come downstairs—and if so, if she’d have what Julianne wanted to eat. Was she a cereal eater? If so, what kind?

For the tenth time that morning, Mara opened the cabinets and checked the cereal boxes.

“I’ll bet they’re the same boxes that were in there ten minutes ago,” Annie said from the doorway.

“I don’t know what she eats.” Mara turned to her sister. “She’s my child, and I don’t even know what she eats for breakfast.”

“And until yesterday, you didn’t know what she looked like after seven years. Now you do. Take it easy, Mara. It will all work out. Just stop being so anxious about everything. You’re going to make yourself crazy.”

“I’m afraid I’m already a little bit crazy.” Mara closed the cupboard door. “I think I need coffee.”

“Let me make it.” Annie smiled and came the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Your coffee is atrocious.”

“You sound like Aidan.”

“Hey, those Shields boys know their coffee.” Annie’s smile still dimmed a little when she spoke of her late fiancé, Aidan’s brother, taken out by a drug dealer’s bullet over a year ago. “Dylan made a mean pot of coffee in the morning. He liked it strong enough to walk on, but it was still pretty damned good.”

“I don’t recall that I ever had the pleasure,” Mara said.

“Hey, you’d remember. Trust me. Dylan’s coffee was potent enough to put hair on your chest.”

“Now that I would remember.” Mara nodded, a weak smile on her face. Then, a moment later, she said, “I wonder if she slept all right.”

“I’m sure she was fine.”

“Spike stayed in her room all night. He hasn’t even been outside yet.”

“Want me to try to get him? I’ll take him for a walk,” Annie offered.

“Let’s wait until he shows himself. I’d hate to wake her if she’s still . . .”

Mara’s attention was drawn to the doorway, where Julianne stood, holding Spike in her arms like a shield.

“I’m awake,” Julianne announced flatly. “You don’t have to worry about waking me.”

“Did you sleep well?” Mara asked, trying her best to sound calm,
normal.

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Oh. I’m sorry—”

“You should have thought of that before you had me kidnapped,” Julianne said flatly.

“Julianne, I did not have you kidnapped,” Mara protested.

“What would you call it?”

Mara thought it over, then looked to Annie for help.

Annie had gone upstairs.

Coward,
Mara thought.

“I don’t know what they call it. A rescue—”

“I didn’t need to be rescued. I was with my
father
.”

“Your father who stole you from me seven years ago, changed your name, and hid you away so that no one could find you.”

“That’s not why he changed my name,” Julianne shot back.

“Oh? Why did he change your name?” Mara felt her patience slipping in spite of her best efforts to hang on, to be nonconfrontational.

“Because he said . . . he said . . .” For the first time, Julianne faltered.

“He said what?”

“He said that when you died, you took my name to heaven with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mara asked gently. “I don’t understand.”

“I guess he meant . . . well, that it was a name that you chose.” Julianne’s face clouded. “That you wanted to keep it close to you . . . ?”

“Does that make sense to you?”

“It sort of did when I was little,” Julianne said uncertainly.

“You’re not a little girl anymore. You’re almost a teenager. A very smart teenager. Think about the things he’s said to you. Do they make sense?”

Julianne made a circle on the tile floor with her bare toes, but did not respond.

“What do you like for breakfast?” Mara asked, deciding that she’d do well to take the pressure off Julianne for a bit. She’d given her something important to think about. She didn’t want to burden her with too much at once.

“Just juice is okay.”

“Maybe some toast with it?”

“Okay.”

Annie called the dog from the living room.

“Walk, Spike. Let’s go.”

She didn’t have to call him twice. Spike ran to Annie, his tale wagging a mile a minute, eager for his morning excursion.

“Can I go, too?” Julianne asked.

Mara felt the panic rise within her. Jules could be out there, anywhere, waiting.

“Not this time,” Annie told her as she snapped Spike’s lead to his collar. “He wants to go out now, and you’re not dressed yet. Next time, maybe.”

“Okay.” Julianne nodded and reached for the glass of orange juice Mara held out in trembling hands.

Julianne watched her with wary eyes.

“What would you like to do after breakfast?” Mara asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t go anyplace. I don’t have any clothes.” She took a sip of juice. “If you’re going to make me stay here, you’re going to have to get me some clothes to wear.”

“I’ll ask Annie when she gets back,” Mara told her.

“Why do you have to ask her?” Julianne frowned. “Can’t you take me?”

“I’ve been having problems with my car. She’d have to drive.” Mara averted her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her daughter that she was afraid to let her leave the house.

Maybe we can get Miranda to come along. She has a gun. Annie doesn’t carry a gun. . . .

“Do you work?” Julianne asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. I work with the courts. I’m what they call a child advocate. When there are custody disputes in families, I represent the child or children.”

Julianne stared at her, then said, “So if my dad came for me and went to court with you, they’d give you custody because they know you. That won’t be fair.”

Mara bit her lip. She wasn’t going to get into what could be an ugly discussion with Julianne. She wanted to tell her daughter that the courts would give her, Mara, custody because her father had broken the law, but she couldn’t let her feelings for Jules surface to sour this time with Julianne. So she said nothing. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sank into a chair at the table.

“Does she work?” Julianne pointed out the window to where Anne Marie stood chatting with Aidan.

“Yes.”

“What does she do?”

“She works for the FBI.”

“Oh.” Julianne watched Annie for a few minutes, then asked, “Who is that man?”

“His name is Aidan Shields. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Why is he here?”

“He works with Annie.”

“He’s an FBI man?”

“Yes.”

“He’s waiting for my father to come for me, isn’t he? He’s going to arrest my father, and they’ll let you keep me because you work with those people.” Julianne threw the glass of juice across the room. It hit the cabinet above the stove and shattered.

“Julianne . . .” Mara jumped out of her chair.

“I’ll tell them I want to be with my father. I’ll tell them how you had those people steal me away. How my father had to keep me away from you because you were a bad—”

“Stop it,” Mara said softly. “You know that isn’t true. I have never stopped loving you. I never stopped praying that you’d come home.”

“Then why did it take you so long to find me? If you were looking so hard, why did it take you so long?” Julianne sobbed and rushed from the room.

Mara followed her daughter to her room and opened the door that had just been slammed in her face. She leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Julianne threw herself facedown onto her bed. Hesitating for just an instant, Mara went to her, sat down on the side of the bed, and gently rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to think of the right thing to say.

Hell, how could anyone know the right thing to say?

When no words came, she lay down next to the sobbing girl and held her. Brushing Julianne’s blonde hair back from her face, Mara cried tears of her own.

“Why are you crying?” Julianne demanded.

“Because I don’t know what else to do,” a weary Mara told her, her emotions worn to the quick. “I don’t know what to say to you, or what to do for you. I want to tell you that everything your father told you about me was a lie, but I know I’m not supposed to say that, because it would make you feel conflicted. But obviously he didn’t tell you the truth about things. Look at me. Certainly I’m not dead. And I was a good mother—I was a very good mother—but if I start telling you all the ways in which I was a good mother, then I’ll be wrong for showing your father up as a liar. I am damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t.”

Mara sat up and exhaled. “I’m sorry, Julianne. I shouldn’t have said that. Not any of it.”

She rubbed her temples, tried to rub away the throbbing pain that had settled in and kept announcing itself, over and over and over. Neither she nor Julianne seemed able to look at the other. The storm of emotions had been so swift and so strong.

“My room is the same,” Julianne said after a few very long minutes. “I remember a lot of the dolls. And the stuffed animals there on the shelves.”

She got up and went to the bookshelves and touched the spines of several books.

“I looked at a lot of these last night. I remember some of them. I remember you reading to me at night.”

“We always read together at night.”

“Mr. Willoughby’s Christmas Tree.”
Julianne took one from the top shelf. “I liked this one. The rhymes. I liked the way the tree kept getting smaller and smaller.”

She smiled as she flipped through the pages. “I liked how the mice had the tiniest tree at the end. . . .”

“You used to make me crazy, wanting me to read that over and over and over.” Mara managed a smile.

“I remember.” Julianne skimmed the last page of the book, then slid it back onto the shelf.

“Why didn’t you get rid of my stuff?” she asked. “You didn’t change anything.”

“I wanted your things to be here for you when you came home.”

“What if I was twenty when I came back? What if I was in college?”

“It would still all be here.”

“What if I never came back?”

“It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t come back someday. I wasn’t sure how old you’d be, but I knew one day, I’d find you and you’d come home.”

Julianne picked up a music box and brought it to the bed and sat down next to her mother. She opened the lid, and watched the tiny skaters whirl stiffly across the ice in time with “The Skater’s Waltz.”

“It still works.” She closed the lid and the music stopped.

“I kept replacing the batteries.”

“How many times?” Julianne looked up at her. “How many times did you have to do that?”

“Lots, I guess. I didn’t keep count.”

Julianne leaned back against her mother, her head resting on Mara’s chest, and raised the lid again. She hummed along with the tinny music as the skaters resumed their dance. Mara put an arm around her child and closed her eyes tightly, giving silent thanks, no longer concerned about what came next. She allowed this first bit of closeness to fill her, every lonely corner, and knew that for now, it was enough.

“So what do you think, Cahill? Same places as last night?” Will asked as they left the house next door to Mara’s and headed across the drive.

“Sure.” She shrugged. “Makes no difference to me, either way.”

“Maybe we’ll have a bit of action tonight, what do you think?” Keeping to the shadows, he took her hand for just a minute.

“I don’t know. What if we’re wrong and this is all a waste of time? What if Jules decides it isn’t worth it to him to take the risk to get Julianne back? I mean, he has to know that Mara isn’t going to give her up without a fight.”

“You’re right. And I don’t think he’s the type to back off without fighting back. I think the thought of displeasing his boss will urge him on, even if his paternal instincts do not. He’ll be here, maybe tonight. I doubt he’s going to want Julianne to spend a minute longer with her mother than she has to.”

“Afraid she’ll find out just how much he’s lied?”

“Afraid that mother-child bond will take over and she won’t come willingly. It would be interesting to see how he’s going to explain to his daughter that her mother has been alive all these years.”

“Like that’s going to be an issue. He’s not going to get close enough to Julianne to have that conversation.”

“How’s that going, by the way? What did Annie say about how Mara and her daughter are getting along?”

“She said it goes back and forth. One minute Julianne seems happy to be home, talking to Mara about things she remembers. Then the next minute, she’s angry at her mother for taking her from her father. She said it’s like a seesaw that’s totally out of control.”

“It’s probably going to be like that for a while,” Will said. “Julianne has gone through a lot. I’m sure her loyalties are being severely tested right now.”

“Annie said it was to be expected. But it sounded as if it’s starting to wear on both of them.”

“It’s going to wear even more when Jules shows up and we have to take him in,” Will reminded her. “That’s not going to be a pretty scene.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll be able to get our hands on him before Julianne even knows he’s been here.”

“That’s the plan.” They reached the backyard, and Will knocked softly on the door. He stepped back when Annie appeared and opened it.

“Sorry,” she said softly, “but Julianne just went up to bed. It isn’t so easy to talk a twelve-year-old into going to bed early, you know? I told them that I’d be right up, that I needed something from my car. We’re going to watch a movie on the TV in Mara’s room.”

The three stepped into the back hall and Annie closed the door behind them, then locked the dead bolt.

“Got your walkie-talkie?” Will whispered.

“Got the walkie-talkie, got the gun.” Miranda patted first one hip, then the other. “And got the all-important licorice.”

“Guess you’re all set, then. See you later.” Will followed Annie down the hall.

“See you.” Miranda leaned back against the wall. “Hey, keep in touch, okay? Feel free to call if anything exciting happens.”