My Secret Valentine. Marilyn Pappano

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СКАЧАТЬ turned off all but one dim light over the bed, so he stood in shadow, but she knew who it was. “She’s asleep,” she said quietly. “You won’t wake her.”

      Justin came forward until he stood opposite her. “How is she?”

      “Just bumped and bruised.” That was Katy’s favorite description for all the little injuries she suffered in her tomboy play. Smiling at the memory of the phrase in her little girl’s voice, Fiona rubbed her arm, found it cool to the touch and gently tucked it under the sheet. “They had to put a few stitches in the worst cuts on her face, but she’ll be fine. They’ll hardly even leave a scar.”

      “How long are they keeping her?”

      “Just until tomorrow. Her injuries are minor, but she was so upset…”

      “She’s lucky.”

      “I know.” Fiona rested her arms on the rail and finally looked at him. He still wore jeans, but he’d changed from the shirt that had been splattered with their daughter’s blood. Now he wore a leather jacket open over a dark blue dress shirt that brought out the color of his eyes—of Katy’s eyes. He looked handsome, tired, serious—and just a bit excited. Because his uncomfortable duty trip to Colorado had turned into the work that meant so much to him?

      Her resentment skyrocketed. Their daughter was lying sedated in a hospital bed, and he was happy to have a case to occupy his few remaining hours in town. But when she spoke, she kept the anger and shock out of her voice. “What happened? What exploded and how did it get in my yard?”

      “It was an ammo can, a small steel case the military uses to store ammunition. Chief Stuart’s theory on how it got there is the mudslides a few years ago that leveled off your yard.”

      Fiona was puzzled. “You mean, the military’s responsible for this?”

      “No. Ammo cans are sold at surplus stores all over the country. This one held some stolen property, along with a couple of blasting caps. Katy must have uncovered the can while digging, and they detonated.” Withdrawing a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket, he gave her an uncomfortable look. “I need some information for my report—just basic stuff. Is that okay?”

      She shrugged.

      “What is your full name?”

      “Fiona Frances Lake.”

      His gaze lingered on her face a moment before he wrote it down. “And Katy’s?”

      “Kathleen Hope.”

      “Hope’s her last name?”

      “Middle name,” she said impatiently. “Her last name is Lake.”

      “But— Why doesn’t she have your husband’s name?”

      His question sent a stab of pain through Fiona. He was the only man she’d ever wanted to marry, the only one she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and he’d claimed to feel the same about her. It had taken her years to stop wanting him, and she hadn’t yet found a way to want anyone else. It had taken him only a few days, maybe even hours, to forget her.

      “I don’t have a husband,” she said stiffly, “so it would be difficult for her to take his name.”

      Justin stared at her across the bed, obviously surprised. “You’re not married?”

      “No.”

      “Have you been?”

      “No. I had plans once, but it turned out, the offer was just part of the joke.”

      He had no reaction to the jibe. He simply continued to look surprised, with some confusion thrown in for good measure. “But—Katy— Who is her father? Where is he? Why didn’t you marry him?”

      Fiona went cold inside. This wasn’t funny. Pretending ignorance when she’d delivered the news of her pregnancy herself was not the best path to choose. He’d known he was going to be a father, and he hadn’t cared enough to even acknowledge it. He’d ignored her message and ignored their daughter for her entire life, and now he was pretending he didn’t know? Was he such a self-centered bastard that he possibly could have forgotten? Or merely a coward who couldn’t own up to his failings?

      Or…was it possible he truly didn’t know? He sounded sincere—but he’d sounded sincere when he’d told her he loved her and wanted to marry her, and he’d been lying then. He could well be lying now.

      She hadn’t actually delivered the news to him herself, a sly voice reminded her. She’d left the message on his answering machine—the only way she could make contact, since he’d refused to take or return her calls. When he’d never responded, she had assumed that he’d gotten the message and just didn’t give a damn about the baby. It had been so easy to think when he’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t give a damn about her.

      But what if he hadn’t gotten it? An accidental erasure, a tape malfunction, hitting the wrong button by mistake… Oh, God, what if he’d never known?

      Her palms damp, her stomach queasy, Fiona turned away from the bed and walked to the window, where she lifted one corner of the shade. The sun was setting, turning the western horizon shades of pink and purple, and darkness was quickly settling in. Already the streetlights were on, and as she watched, lights flickered on in nearby houses. She raised the shade, then folded her arms across her chest as she stared out. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”

      “That was my plan, before this happened.”

      “There’s an ATF office in Denver.” Six years ago he had talked about trying to get a transfer there. Obviously that plan had changed, too. “Surely they can handle this.”

      “They could, but it’s my case.” His voice was closer, though she hadn’t heard him move. She felt, then saw his approach from the corner of her eye as he passed, then turned to lean against the windowsill. With his hands in his pockets and his ankles crossed, he looked more relaxed than he had a right to be. It was an illusion, though. There was tension in his jaw, in his eyes.

      So much about him was an illusion.

      “You can do that?” she asked as if she cared. “Claim a case as your own just because you have the dumb luck to be around when it happens?”

      “No. Denver has jurisdiction, but they agreed to let me work it.”

      Wonderful. So he’d be in town longer than she’d planned. How much longer? she wanted to ask. How long would she have to cope with the fact that he was living right next door? To know that every time she left her house, she risked running into him? How long would she have to tell him the truth…or do her damnedest to hide it?

      “So…about those questions… Who is Katy’s father, and why didn’t you marry him?”

      “I don’t see how either of them matters.”

      “This is a federal crime, Fiona, and unfortunately, Katy is the victim. I need identifying information on her.”

      “She’s the only Kathleen Hope Lake in all of Grand Springs, and I’m the only Fiona Lake. You have our address. I’ll give you our phone number and her СКАЧАТЬ