Protecting Her Son. Joan Kilby

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      Riley didn’t particularly want to spend any more time than necessary with uptight Paula and since events like the bike safety lesson were usually conducted on their own time, this was a particularly unwelcome idea. But he didn’t like letting his little sister down. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

      Katie beamed at him. From this angle with her oval face framed by long black hair, and her green eyes, she reminded him of someone… . A stab of pain made him wince. He pressed his fingers to his temple.

      “Are you all right?” Katie asked, pausing in the foyer. “You went pale all of a sudden.”

      “A bit of a headache. I’m fine.” Outside, a car door shut. “I think the others have arrived.”

      His dad’s white Ford sedan was parked at the curb. Then a truck rumbled to a halt, its air brakes hissing. Barry Henning’s voice carried as he issued instructions to the driver backing up the narrow curving driveway.

      “How did you accumulate enough stuff to fill a moving van in less than a year?” Katie said.

      Riley leaned against the veranda post. “Imagine a man living out of a footlocker for ten years. Then imagine him moving into his own home, even if it’s just a two-bedroom rental unit. A trip to the home furniture store is like taking a kid to a candy shop.”

      “Hey, you two.” Sandra, their stepmother, came across the lawn, avoiding the truck. Her gray-blonde hair was softly waving, her smile big and bright. She presented Riley a casserole dish. “Your mother’s famous chicken cacciatore. You won’t have time to cook today.”

      “Thanks.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “You shouldn’t have.”

      He exchanged a furtive grimace with Katie. Since she married their father Sandra had taken up cooking out of their mother’s cookbooks. It was nice of her, but in her hands the recipes didn’t always turn out—to put it mildly.

      “Save that for another time,” Barry ordered, striding up onto the porch. His gray hair and moustache were regulation army length, his carriage erect. “We’ll order pizza after we get him moved in.”

      “Yes, sir, Major Dad.” Katie saluted. She gave Sandra a wink.

      “We’ve eaten out twice already this week.” Sandra was briefly crestfallen. Then she put on a brilliant smile. “Never mind, I’ll tuck this in the fridge.” She carried the casserole into the house.

      One of the moving men trundled the first dolly-load—a walnut dresser—to the steps. “Where do you want this?”

      “Right this way.” Riley led them into his house, rubbing his aching temple. What was up with the headache? He rarely got them and then only when he occasionally drank too much. There weren’t even any painkillers in his belongings. But the pain was nothing compared to what he’d experienced in Afghanistan. He would soldier on.

      * * *

      “MORNING, PATTY,” Paula called out as she passed Dispatch on Monday morning. The young Irish woman waved.

      After the phone calls last week, Nick had gone quiet. When Paula had arrived home that night with Jamie, her house had been exactly as she’d left it, every door and window locked and untampered with. It should have reassured her. Instead, all weekend she’d been jumpy, obsessively checking over her shoulder, looking for Nick’s face in the crowd, keeping Jamie in sight as they wandered through the monthly outdoor market in the village.

      She wasn’t naive enough to think Nick had gone away. He seemed to be biding his time, trying to make her nervous. What did he want from her? Did he hate her for betraying him? Did he want revenge?

      Or did he want Jamie?

      This morning she’d called Sally, Jamie’s afterschool caregiver, and asked her to be at the school at 3:00 p.m. on the dot. Then Sally’s toddler started crying and the other woman had to go. This afternoon, when Paula picked up Jamie, she needed to have a proper talk with Sally.

      She found a desk and a spare computer and got caught up on paperwork, working steadily for an hour before her shift started. She and Riley were supposed to be equal partners but from things the guys said she’d deduced he was the boss’s best bud. And even though she was senior in years on the force, her past tainted her. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or her insecurities showing but she had the uncomfortable feeling that Riley was watching her every move, waiting for her to slip up. Well, she would show him. She would show everyone. She would work twice as hard as any one of them.

      John came through the door heading for his office. He carried an athletic bag with a beach towel stuffed inside and his hair was damp. His early morning ocean swims were legend around the station.

      “Excuse me, boss. Can I have a quick word?”

      “Sure.” He glanced at her computer and at the clock. “You know we don’t have the budget for overtime, don’t you?”

      “I know.” She saved her report and rose to follow him. “I hate getting behind on the report writing.”

      “The trouble with policing today isn’t the crime, it’s the paperwork.” He opened his office door and flung his bag in the corner. “What can I do for you?”

      “I wondered if you’ve heard anything from District Headquarters about my application to detective.”

      It was too early to be asking about a promotion but chances were Moresco would revert to his old ways. She didn’t know if she’d be allowed to work on any case that involved him but if she was, she wanted to be ready. This time she would take him down for good. She couldn’t do that sitting on the side of the road working a radar gun.

      “I reviewed your application when you joined Summerside,” John said. “Your qualifications are excellent.”

      She studied his face, trying to decide if he genuinely supported her career ambitions or if he was like her previous commanding officers, letting her put in time till she could be sent on her way. “But?”

      “All promotions are on hold due to budget cutbacks.” His expression was open and frank. “Funding cuts have been looming for some time but the memo came yesterday afternoon. The economy dips and the government tightens up on new spending. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

      Paula struggled to hide her disappointment. She believed him about the budget cuts but she’d been burned before and she wanted to know where she stood with him. “This knockback doesn’t have anything to do with my past, does it?”

      “I know very little about your past.” John’s gaze was steady, inviting her to open up to him.

      The silence stretched. Sounds of the outside office filtered through the door. Her fists balled on her thighs. What did he expect her to say? Did her future at Summerside depend on whether she told him her history right this minute? It sucked that her career still hung on one stupid choice she’d made years ago.

      She could see his point of view. John didn’t know those days were over, but she’d be a fool to expose herself in case he had some discretionary spending or the economy turned around. He sure as hell wouldn’t be in a hurry to promote her if he knew what she’d done. But she wouldn’t whine that she’d learned her lesson. She would have to СКАЧАТЬ