Название: The Billionaire's Son
Автор: Sharon Hartley
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
isbn: 9781474073028
isbn:
Remembering the sight of Jason’s rigid body when he tried to separate him from Officer Jenkins, Trey stared into his wine. What was happening to his son? Even with all his resources, he was helpless to prevent Jason’s downward spiral.
“Come on, guys. You can’t expect me to stay here,” Kelly said, her gaze shifting around the table.
“I know it would be a tremendous imposition, but couldn’t you remain just one night?” Donna said. “I’ve done it several times, and this villa is quite comfortable.”
“You can stay in the guest room you used earlier,” Trey said. “I’ll place my staff at your disposal.”
“No way,” Kelly said. “I have to work tomorrow.”
“I’ll have Hans drive you to your station in the morning.”
“Roll call is at ten a.m. What if Jason isn’t awake by then?”
Donna smiled. “You obviously aren’t familiar with little boys. I’m certain he will be up long before that.”
Kelly shook her head. “But what if we’re just putting off the inevitable? What if he gets hysterical when I leave in the morning?”
“We’ll deal with that possibility then,” Donna said.
“Will you be here to do that?” Kelly demanded.
“Yes. Trey has asked me to return to evaluate his condition.”
Trey nodded when Donna shot him a smile. Thank God for Donna. Anything to convince the cop to stay. He understood she had a life, but how could she refuse to help a frightened child? Was she heartless?
“If Jason doesn’t settle down, my recommendation will be to treat him in-patient,” Dr. Carico said. “I’ve consulted several colleagues, and they all recommend institutionalization. Trey wants to avoid that at all costs.”
Kelly released a sigh. “Yeah, I get that.”
“When she was alive, Jason’s mother left him with nannies all the time,” Trey said, relieved Kelly appeared to be softening. He couldn’t force her to stay, and he’d already insulted her once by offering payment. “I think he’ll understand your need to go to work.”
“Did his mom work?” Kelly asked.
“Not after we married, but she attended a lot of luncheons.”
Kelly’s mouth tightened. “This is nuts.”
“He’s a scared, confused little boy,” Trey said. “And I’m only asking for one night.”
She shook her head and stared at the cheese tray. “I’d have to swing by my apartment in the morning to get my uniform.”
“That’s not a problem,” Trey said. “Like I said, whatever it takes.”
“All right,” Kelly said, throwing up her arms in surrender. “I’m not convinced it’s the right thing to do, but I’ll stay.”
“Thank you,” Trey said, putting as much meaning into the words as he could muster. “Please feel free to make yourself at home while you’re here.”
The cop looked interested in that idea, but before she could ask a question, Maria appeared at the door to the dining room, uncharacteristically twisting her apron in both hands. Jason’s condition was hard on everyone in the house.
“The police are here with a sketch artist,” she said. “They want to work with Officer Jenkins.”
“Of course,” Trey said. “Show them to the solarium.”
“Damn,” Kelly murmured, coming to her feet. “I forgot about that.”
“So I guess it’s good you didn’t leave,” Trey said.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Kelly nodded her approval at the completed sketches of Adam and Caleb. Rafael, the artist, had captured their likenesses quite well. Not exact, of course, but close enough to give patrol officers a good tool to work with.
“I wish everyone had a memory as good as yours,” Rafael said as he packed his drawing materials into a huge canvas satchel. “You made my job easy.”
“It would be hard to forget those scumbags,” Kelly said.
“Did you hear someone on scene filmed your encounter with the kidnappers on their phone and gave the video to Channel Eight?”
“Seriously?” While she’d been banished to fantasyland, the case—her case—had developed leads and moved forward in the real world without her. She was totally out of the loop because she’d been busy babysitting a screwed-up kid.
“Yeah, but the video is of you holding the Wentworth kid,” Rafael said. “They didn’t manage to get a good head shot of either perp.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Good thing, or I’d be out of a job. Channel Eight showed the recording on the six o’clock news. Congratulations on your thirty seconds of fame.”
“Gee, thanks.” But she was curious about what had been captured. Maybe she could catch the footage at eleven o’clock. She hadn’t seen a TV anywhere in this mansion, but there had to be one somewhere.
Laughing, Rafael turned to look out on the pool deck through the huge plate glass windows of the solarium, a room full of casual wicker furniture, colorful prints and green plants, including more blooming orchids. Kelly followed his gaze and found the two officers who had driven him over sitting at a table with a glass pitcher of what looked like iced tea and another cheese-and-fruit tray. Both men had their feet up. A glorious sunset was in full view behind them, creating a scene fit for a slick travel magazine—if it weren’t for the two cops in black uniforms with loaded guns on their hips.
“Now, there’s a duty I could get used to,” Rafael said.
“You think so? I’d be bored sick sitting around and doing nothing.”
“That’s a sickness I could take,” Rafael said. “I guess a stay on Collins Island is your reward for saving Wentworth’s kid.” He nodded at the remains of a buffet the blonde cook had laid out for them. “Damn, but that food was amazing.”
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
Rafael turned back. “Good job, by the way.” He gave her a high five, the slap of their palms sharp in the quiet room. “I’ve already heard talk of a commendation for you.”
“Thanks.” A feeling of pleasure tickled her belly. A commendation? Really? Still gazing at the resort-like view, she added, “But I did what anyone would.”
“Yeah, right. Anybody would karate-kick a gun out of a perp’s hand. How’s the kid by the way?”
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