The Strong Silent Type (9 page)

Okay, maybe he was getting tired of Cavanaugh taking over at that. “Since when did someone make you king of the world?”

“No king,” she replied, giving him her most innocent face. “I just believe in honoring your debts, that’s all.”

“Very noble, but this isn’t a debt yet. It’s not over by a long shot.”

She thumped the files. “You have to admit this is too much of a coincidence.”

Ordinarily, he’d agree. But not when she was so damn cocksure of herself. It pushed him to the other side of the fence. “It still could be. People get careless, they leave their doors and windows unlocked. Could just be a matter of burglars seizing an opportunity.”

“And could be more,” she insisted quietly.

“Yeah,” he allowed, getting back to work, not wanting to look in her direction any longer, not until he got himself back in the right gear. Right now, he was having all sorts of thoughts that were interfering with his work. “It could be more.”

“Well, I’m going cross-eyed,” Mulrooney announced to no one in particular as he tossed down a
file. He rose to his feet. “Time to call it a day and head on home to the light of my life.” The last phrase was uttered with more than a little sarcasm.

Teri looked in his direction. Mulrooney had been married to the same woman for over thirty years. The woman, in her opinion, deserved a medal for valor over and above the call of duty. “You’re lucky Charlotte doesn’t throw you out.”

He pretended to take umbrage. “Hey, where she’s going to find a better catch than me?”

“She’s probably checking eBay right now,” Kassidy cracked, powering down his computer. He pulled his things together, following his partner’s lead.

Mulrooney laughed, but Teri noted that he tossed out the half-eaten candy bar he’d just brought back from the vending machine. The man’s shadow could definitely use some toning down.

“You should talk.” Mulrooney jeered at Kassidy as the two walked toward the door. “I don’t know why your wife hasn’t left you by now.”

Kassidy laughed off the idea. “Haven’t you heard? Us thin guys make great lovers.”

“In your dreams,” Mulrooney told him as they walked out of the office.

“No, in his wife’s,” Teri called out after the departing men.

Sitting back in her chair, Teri looked around. The office was almost chillingly quiet. For the first time today, she became aware of the hum of the fluorescent
bulb just above her desk. That meant it was going to give up the ghost soon. Maybe she should, too. At least for tonight. Everyone else had already left for the day.

Except for Hawk.

He’d been here when she came in, early for once. And, from the looks of it, he would be here after she left.

She studied his profile for a moment. What went through his mind, she wondered. When he was alone, what did he think of?

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” Teri finally asked.

More conversation. Resigned, Hawk raised his eyes to look at her. “What what’s like?”

“Having someone to come home to.” Was he lonely, she wondered. She knew she would be in his place. But then, she’d been raised in a crowd scene. She couldn’t remember when there weren’t people around. For him, life had been different.

“Nope.”

“Must be nice to be so self-contained.”

“It is.” His tone left no room for argument.

But when she left several minutes later, Hawk found the silence disturbing.

She really was getting to him.

C
laire stood behind the door, counting off the minutes. Waiting until she was sure he was gone. Then, bracing her shoulders, she opened the door again, needing to fill the small apartment with fresh air.

Needing to feel that fresh air on her skin.

Her eyes swept up and down the path that led to her garden apartment.

There was no one else around.

He’d brought the restlessness back, this man with his gray-blue eyes and his photo album. She could feel her adrenaline warming, coursing through her veins.

It made her want to cry.

She’d finally, finally reconciled with the dark hole that was at the center of her life. Finally reconciled with not ever knowing.

It was as if she’d been born fifteen years ago. Born wandering a road, her hair wet, her clothes damp and clinging to her body. Her mind had been a blank, her body filled with pain.

She’d long since given up trying to remember, other than thinking someone had to be after her. Someone who would hurt her if he ever found her.

Why else had there been so many bruises on her body? Why else had there been such a bleeding gash on her forehead?

And why else had there been such a feeling of terror inside of her, terror before her mind ever came into its hazy focus?

So she’d hidden herself. Hidden herself behind a name she’d put together from two articles in the newspaper, hidden herself inside a life she’d stitched together from the bits and pieces that came her way, never getting as close to anyone as she wanted, afraid that would be taken away from her, too.

All the while waiting for something to happen. For someone to find her.

Was this Andrew Cavanaugh the one she’d been waiting for?

She didn’t know.

If he was who he said he was—her husband, the father of these children whose faces meant nothing to her—wouldn’t she have remembered? Wouldn’t
something have been triggered inside when he looked at her?

Instead, all she felt was panic, a growing panic. And confusion.

Taking a step out to make sure he was really gone, her toe came in contact with something.

Claire looked down and saw the book the man had tried to make her take. She stared at it for a long moment, then bent down and picked it up.

She touched the pages. They were worn, as if they had been well-read. Well loved.

Flipping to the front, she saw that there was a card stuck there. And there was an inscription across the title page.
To my Rose. All my love forever, Andy.

Andy.

She passed a hand over her forehead. The headaches were starting again. The headaches that brought with them half-formed bits of memories that refused to assume any kind of lasting shape or form.

Claire sighed, closing the book and holding it to her chest. “I wish I could remember you, Andy. I wish I could remember,” she whispered to the man who wasn’t there.

She took the book inside with her when she closed the door.

“Okay, Dad, what’s up?” Shaw asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Behind him was Callie. He’d picked her up on his way over here. She was alone, sans her fiancé and
Brent’s daughter, who had now become regulars at the table. Their father had specifically asked that they all come today, but without their intended mates. From the looks of it, even their cousins seemed to be excluded.

Everyone thought the request rather odd, especially since Andrew liked nothing better than having the house filled to the rafters. “The more the merrier” applied not only to family, but to friends and even passing acquaintances.

This was different.

This was for immediate family only.

Teri had been the first one down, followed closely by Rayne. Clay had arrived not five minutes later. “Looks like we’re all here.” Teri turned expectantly toward her father.

Was it her imagination, or did he look paler lately? He’d been so quiet these past two days. It wasn’t like him. Something was wrong. His behavior made her uneasy. No matter how carefree she liked to portray herself, she didn’t like the dynamics changing within their family. She never had.

“Yeah, what’s the big mystery?” Clay pressed. Sitting down, he helped himself to breakfast. Very little interfered with his appetite.

On the table stood, by Andrew’s standards, only a meager offering. Pancakes and eggs with slices of toast piled haphazardly on the side. Usually there was at least twice as much available.

Concern entered Callie’s eyes. Instead of sitting
down, she crossed to her father and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Dad, is there something wrong?”

Backing away, Andrew held his hand out, silencing his oldest daughter. He searched for words that should have been the happiest he’d ever uttered. Words that were being held prisoner because the woman he’d found, the one who he had been searching for for such a long time, didn’t know him.

His eyes swept over the faces of his children, his heart growing heavier by the moment. “I found your mother.”

For a second, there was nothing but silence in the normally noisy kitchen. Aching, awkward silence. They’d been here before, brought to this destination by rumors that turned out not to be true, leads that ended nowhere. It was too much to go through again.

“Dad—” Shaw began, rising from his place at the table.

Andrew waved him into silence. “No, hear me out.” His voice was strained, filled with emotions he was trying to rein in.

Teri saw her brothers and sisters all exchange bewildered looks. Had it finally happened? Had looking for their mother finally taken a toll on him, pushed him over the edge? She wanted to throw her arms around him, to beg him not to do this to himself.

But even as she rose from her chair, Rayne’s next question froze her in place.

“Was it that woman, Dad?” Rayne asked sud
denly. “That woman at the diner?” Her eyes widened. “Did you go up to see her?”

“What woman?” Clay asked. “What diner?” He looked from one blank face to another. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied, looking at his youngest. “I went up to see her.”

“See who?” Clay demanded again.

Teri bit her lower lip. It broke her heart to see him like this. He had to give it up. “Dad, we’ve been through this before—”

Andrew didn’t waste his time making any protests. He was a man of the law, after all, and evidence was almost always the final word. He gave it to his children now. “I matched her prints.”

“What prints? Start at the beginning, please,” Callie begged, giving voice to what they were all thinking.

For the past two days, he had been wrestling with this, with what he knew and what had happened when he’d gone up to see Rose, searching for a way to tell them. Wondering if he
should
tell them.

He finally came to the conclusion that they deserved to know, even if there never was a proper resolution.

“Rayne saw her first,” he told them quietly, his voice throbbing with emotion. “She stopped at a diner on her way up the coast last month and was struck by this waitress working there. The woman looked just the way your mother would have if…”
His voice cracked and he cleared it, momentarily unable to continue.

Teri turned to look at her younger sister. “Why didn’t you say something?” she demanded. Why had she kept this to herself? For years, all the clues, all the leads, had been made available to all of them. They’d dissected everything, always together. Why was it different now?

Rayne raised her chin defensively. “I did.” She nodded toward their father. “To Dad. I thought maybe I was imagining it.” She looked at him now. “But I wasn’t, was I, Dad?”

“No, you weren’t.” Everyone started asking questions at once. He held his hand up for quiet. “I went up to see for myself and got her to leave her prints on a spoon. I took that to Claude Wilkins, had him match it against the prints on that book your mother loved so much.”

“Gone with the Wind,”
Teri murmured almost to herself. Her pulse was racing as she listened to her father, as she hung on each unembroidered word. Unable to believe that it was true even if her heart wanted it to be. This was just another trip up the garden path, another trip that would bring them back full circle to where they’d started. Without her mother. She looked at her father, a tiny piece of information falling into place. “So that was what you were doing at the crime lab.”

“Yes.” He looked at each and every one of them before saying, “The prints match.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Shaw was on his feet, ready to jump into his car and drive to wherever his mother was. “Why don’t we go up there and get her? Why isn’t she here already?”

Rayne’s voice cut him off. “Because she doesn’t remember us.” She looked at her brothers and sisters, anguish in her eyes. “She looked right at me and didn’t know who I was.” Rayne’s eyes shifted to her father’s face. “That’s it. Isn’t it, Dad? She doesn’t remember any of us, does she?”

“So? We’ll make her remember,” Clay said.

Callie shook her head, always the most practical one. “You can’t force this kind of thing.”

“So what?” Clay demanded. “We’re just going to let her stay up there?”

“No,” Andrew’s voice quelled the rising tension. “We’re going to give her time. I talked to her,” he told his children. “Showed her photographs of all of you. Of our life.”

“And?” Shaw wanted to know.

He held nothing back. “She seemed afraid. Afraid to try to remember.” Each word wounded him, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. He had to think positively. “I’ll go back up there in a few days and try again.”

Clay blew out an impatient breath. “Dad—”

“Let him handle it,” Teri ordered, cutting off her twin. The words came out a little more forcefully than she’d intended, fueled by the emotions that ricocheted everywhere inside of her. “He knows what’s best.”
It hurt to be here, to speculate. In its own way, this was almost as bad as not knowing if her mother was alive or dead. She rose from the table. “Look, Dad, I’ve got to go.” Feeling like someone in a trance, she crossed to her father and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered against his ear.

Andrew smiled into her eyes, knowing exactly what she was going through. Because he was going through it himself. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.”

She hardly remembered saying goodbye to the others before she left.

Her mother was alive.

Alive.

But if she didn’t remember them, was it really her mother or just her empty shell?

What if she never remembered, never wanted to come back? What then?

Teri pressed her lips together to keep back the sob that suddenly rose in her throat. She didn’t know what to do with it, what to do with what her father had just told them or with what she was feeling right now. So she just pushed it all aside until she could deal with it, clamping down a giant lid on it all.

She wasn’t talking.

For once, the car wasn’t filled with her endless, ebullient rhetoric. The car was silent, except for occasional static from the scanner.

Hawk frowned.

Cavanaugh had been like this since he’d first seen her this morning. Atypically quiet, withdrawn into herself the way he’d never seen her.

And it was driving him crazy.

It surprised him that he didn’t find comfort in the silence. He’d always liked silence. But having it all but surrounded him except for an occasional word seemed almost unnatural. Not to mention disturbing.

They’d been on the road all day, going from one burglary victim on their list to another, asking them to try to remember their habits from five or four years back. Some had been more than a little surprised to be contacted after all this time. A few took it to mean that at least some of their things had been recovered. All had seemed irritated by what they obviously deemed irrelevant questions.

He’d left the smoothing out of ruffled feathers and sympathy up to Cavanaugh. She always handled that kind of thing well, a hell of a lot better than he could have. But as he watched her, as he listened, he had the definite impression that she was just going through the motions. That she was really somewhere else even as she mouthed the right words.

It didn’t quite click into place the way it normally did.

As he began to listen more closely, Hawk thought he detected something in her voice, in her manner. It should have bothered him a great deal that he found himself so in tune to a person he was trying to keep
at arm’s length. But he told himself he was just being a good detective and noticing things like that was all part of the job.

If the excuse was somewhat thin, he pretended not to notice.

As the day progressed, it only got worse, not better. Cavanaugh hardly said a word over the quick sandwiches they grabbed at a take-out window. There was no annoying chatter the way there usually was, no using him as a sounding board. Nothing. She sat and ate her lunch, her eyes a million miles away.

And now, on their way back to the precinct, she made no comment that they had discovered each and every one of the victims they had visited had used a valet service to park their car within a month of the burglaries. Ordinarily, she would have been hooting over that. After all, it was her theory they’d just substantiated.

“You seem a little off today,” he finally said. “Something wrong?”

She looked at him, stunned, despite her mental stupor. She didn’t think there was much that Hawk could do to surprise her, but she was wrong. This definitely came under that heading. She would have bet that she could have come to work naked and as long as it didn’t have any bearing on the case they were working, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“No.” She could feel him looking at her, as if he knew she wasn’t telling him the truth. As if he ex
pected her to own up. She wouldn’t have thought that he’d cared one way or another.

“Some people are born liars.” He looked back at the street. “You’re not one of them.”

She stared straight ahead at the darkened road. “What makes you think there’s something wrong?”