"Probably not."
"So whoever did this just gets away with it?"
"There has to be something we can do."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"Well, I don't think the list of suspects is particularly long."
She met his gaze. "Peter Harper is at the top of my list."
"Mine, too. I think we should pay him a visit."
"I agree, but I wonder what kind of recourse we have. Peter has more of a right to his mother's papers than I do."
"She left you her journals," he reminded her. "The director of the senior center gave them to you."
"I know, but the rest of it we just took."
"True, but I still think we should talk to him, and we should ask him about the pictures of abuse that we found."
She started at his words. "Oh, my God, I still have the pictures."
"You do?"
"Yes. I put the photographs documenting Molly's abuse in my purse as well as that stack of letters from the women she helped. I was going to get coffee and go through them, although I never actually did that," she said, reaching for her bag. She pulled out the photographs and letters. "So we still have these."
"That's something," he said with an approving nod.
"Do you think Peter ever saw these pictures?"
"If he didn't, he's going to now."
"Yes," she agreed. "Although with the amount of bruises Molly suffered in those pictures, I doubt her kids were oblivious to what was going on." She paused. "I'd also like to know what Peter remembers about the fire that took his dad's life."
"I think you should call Peter and tell him you want to talk about some photographs you found that indicate his mother and/or his sister was abused," Colton said.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You want me to throw in Francine as well?"
He met her gaze. "Yes. I want you to get his attention whatever way you can."
"There's a good chance he's at the hospital. He's been there the last few times I've gone."
"Let's try his office first. If he's not there, we'll see if he's at the hospital."
She liked his action plan. It felt good to go on the offensive—to act instead of react.
She called Peter's office and told the woman who answered that it was urgent she speak to Peter about a personal matter. When pressed for more detail, she relayed what Colton had told her, then asked if Peter would be available to see her that afternoon. After a brief pause, she was given an appointment for one o'clock.
"We have an appointment in twenty minutes," she told Colton as she clicked off her phone. "You're going to have to drive really fast if we're going to get there on time. His office is downtown."
"Not a problem. I know all the shortcuts."
She put the pictures and letters back in her bag and then followed Colton out the door.
They didn't speak for the first few minutes. She was focused on what she wanted to say to Peter, and she assumed Colton was concentrating on the road as he wove in and out of lanes and darted down alleyways to avoid traffic. They were making good time until they ran into construction.
Colton tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. "Damn. I should have taken another road."
"We're not that far away, are we?"
"Only a mile or two, but in this traffic, it could still take a few minutes, and we have to find parking downtown, which is always a joy."
"Well, we'll get there and hopefully Peter won't leave before we do."
"If he leaves, we'll track him down. I want to know if he was the one who broke into your room."
"Even if he did, I doubt he'll admit it."
"I think we'll be able to tell by his reaction to our questions." He let out a heavy breath. "I hate the thought of someone breaking into your room, Olivia."
"I almost threw up when I realized what had happened. To think someone was looking through my things…" She shuddered at the thought. "I don't know if I can sleep there tonight."
"You can stay with me."
The invitation came fast and easily because that's the kind of man Colton was, but he obviously hadn't thought it through. A a frown quickly followed the offer.
"I can always go to another hotel," she said.
His frown deepened. "Olivia, this isn't the time to get into a long discussion, but I didn't like the way things ended this morning. We got off track."
"We just got back to reality. Maybe it was a good thing, a reminder that one night is probably all we're going to have."
"Maybe not. You haven't left San Francisco yet."
She shivered a little as he cast his sexy blue gaze in her direction. "That's true, but—"
"But you don't want to sleep with me again," he finished, an odd note in his voice.
She thought about his question for far too long. Then she gave him a rueful smile. "That's the problem, Colton. I do want to sleep with you again, I just don't think I should."
"Why not?"
"A lot of reasons."
"Give me one."
She knew just the one to shut him up. "I'm afraid I'll fall in love with you."
His eyes sparkled at her words, as if the idea wasn't all that repulsive, and for a moment, just a moment, she thought he might reciprocate the words.
Then a horn honked.
"It's our turn to go," she said.
He swore under his breath and then turned his attention back to the road. Whatever he'd been about to say remained unsaid.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ten minutes later Colton pulled into an underground parking garage and handed the valet his keys. As they waited for the elevator to take them up to Peter's office, Colton gave her a serious look. "Olivia, I want you to know that I heard what you said."
"And?" she couldn't help asking.
"And I can see why you might be worried about that."
She was a little taken aback by his cocky words. "Oh, because you're used to women falling in love with you?"
"No, that's not what I meant," he said with a frown.
"Then what did you mean?"
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped back to let a couple off. Then they got inside, and Colton pressed the button for the lobby. "I meant that things got intense between us last night, and I wasn't exactly expecting that."
"Okay," she said, still a little confused. "What are you trying to say, Colton?"
Before he could answer, they'd arrived at the lobby, and as they stepped off and walked across the hall to another bank of elevators, they were caught up in a swarm of people. There was no opportunity for private conversation on their way to the forty-fifth floor.
Olivia could feel Colton's gaze on her, but she was afraid to look at him. His last few comments had only served to make her feel more unsettled. For a guy who was outgoing and seemed to be able to speak to anyone, he'd certainly had trouble putting a couple of coherent sentences together. She'd like to think that was because he was dealing with emotions he wasn't used to dealing with, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.
When they got off the elevator, she could see that Peter Harper's firm took up the entire floor. They stepped out onto plush carpeting and walked through a beautifully decorated and sophisticated reception area. A woman wearing a black sheath dress gave them a smile as they approached the glass counter.
"I'm here to see Peter Harper," she said. "I'm Olivia Bennett and this is Colton Callaway."
"One moment." The woman picked up the phone. "Mr. Harper, your one o'clock appointment is here." She paused. "Yes, of course."
She hung up the phone. "He'll be with you in one moment. Please have a seat."
"Thanks." Olivia moved away from the desk but didn't take advantage of any of the white leather couches. She felt far too restless to sit.
Colton put a hand on her shoulder. "Breathe," he said.
Sometimes she thought he could read her mind. "I am nervous," she admitted. "It's not that he intimidates me, although he does do that. It's because of who he is—who I might be to him. That's the scary part."
"Just take it one step at a time."
"I'm going to try."
His hand slipped down her shoulder and arm, his fingers lacing with hers. "About what I said before—"
"I can't have that conversation right now."
"I understand, but I just want you to know that just because I haven't been able to get the right words out doesn't mean I don't care about you. I do care, Olivia, probably a little too much."
Her nerves tightened, not just at his words, but at the look in his eyes. He'd told her before he didn't lie, and she didn't think he was lying now. But what it all meant was still beyond her.
"Miss Bennett?" the receptionist said, interrupting their conversation. "Mr. Harper will see you now. I'll take you to his office."
"Great." She took as many deep breaths as she could on her way down the hall. She wanted to be as calm as possible when she asked Peter Harper about the terribly disturbing photos of his mother.
* * *
Peter stood up when they entered his office. He had his suit coat off. The sleeves of a white button-down shirt were rolled up to the elbows, and his expensive tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked exhausted, and Olivia couldn't help wondering if it was the toll his mother's condition was taking on him, or if there was more going on.
"You're back," he said with a resigned sigh. "Somehow I didn't think I'd seen the last of you." His gaze turned to Colton. "And you brought a friend—wonderful."
"This is Colton Callaway," she said.
Peter's gaze narrowed. "Callaway? Are you related to Eleanor?"
"I'm her grandson, Jack's son," Colton added. "I think you knew him when you were a kid."
"I knew his brother Michael. So what do you want? You mentioned something about pictures of my mother and sister?"
"Your mother," Olivia said, pulling the photos out of her handbag. Peter hadn't asked them to sit down, and she wanted to face him at eye level, so all three of them remained on their feet.
Peter's jaw tightened as he looked down at the photos. He flipped through them silently, then set them down on the large cherry wood desk that separated them. "Where did you get those?"
"From Molly's home."
"You broke into my mother's house? I should have you arrested."
"Olivia isn't a villain. My grandmother gave her a key," Colton cut in. "There's also a good chance she's your niece, so maybe you should change your attitude."
As Peter's silent glare continued, Olivia didn't think he cared one bit about whether or not they might be related.
"My relationship to your mother aside," she said, breaking the tense silence, "what can you tell me about the photos? Was your father hitting your mother?"
"On occasion," Peter admitted. "But it never seemed as bad as what those photos would indicate."
"Are you saying that the photos might have been doctored?"
"How the hell would I know? I'm not even sure they're of my mother. She used to hang out with a lot of abused women. Domestic abuse became her cause in life."
She couldn't ignore the bitter note in his voice. "You sound angry about it."
"I was angry about it. My mother turned her back on the family to help strangers when she should have been helping her own daughter."
"Francine was being abused?"
"No. But she was struggling to survive after my father died. While my mother was focused on others, Francine was killing herself with drugs and alcohol. By the time my mother turned her attention back to her daughter, Francine was too far gone to be saved."
"Why didn't you save her?" Colton cut in.
Peter's gaze swung to Colton. "I tried—many, many times. But when the substance abuse first began, I was in college, then I went into the Navy. I didn't know what was going on. I was counting on my mother to actually be a mother."
Olivia could see that Peter held his mother responsible for all of Francine's problems. Whether that was fair or not, she couldn't say. "We're getting a little off the point," she said, drawing his attention back to her. "You're angry with your mother, obviously, but don't you feel any compassion for what she went through at the hands of your father?"
"Like I said, it wasn't that bad," he replied. "Yeah, he drank too much, and he'd get pissed off really easily. He slapped her now and then, gave her a shove, tossed her dinner in the trash, but that wasn't all the time. He could be a good guy, too. He'd buy her presents, take her on trips, and he supported her and us. He had a stressful job, and it was wrong what he did, but she didn't have to—" Peter stopped abruptly.
"She didn't have to do what?" Olivia prodded.
He stared back at her for a long moment, the pulse in his neck beating hard and fast. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," she said in frustration. She kept getting close and then someone slammed a door in her face. "What did Molly do?"
"Fine. You want to know, I'll tell you. She killed him," Peter said flatly. "She killed my father. She stole him from Francine and me."
She put a hand to her mouth, feeling shocked and a little sickened by his words. "I don't understand. There was a fire—"
"A fire she started when he was too passed out to save himself."
Olivia swallowed a knot in her throat and glanced over at Colton, wondering what he thought of Peter's statement.
Colton's expression was grim as he gazed back at her, then he turned to Peter. "That's not what the official report says. It stated that you, Francine and your mother were at my grandmother's house when the fire broke out. Your mother got worried when your dad didn't answer the phone and sent my grandfather to look for him."
"All bullshit," Peter said. "My parents were fighting in the kitchen. Eleanor showed up in the middle of it. She took Francine and me out of the house and sent us around the corner to her house. She and my mom showed up about fifteen minutes later. Then we heard the sirens. I thought they sounded really close, but I didn't know until the next day that those fire engines were racing to my house, that my father was dead."
Silence followed his words. She didn't know what to say.