The Detective's Secret Daughter. Rachelle McCalla

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СКАЧАТЬ reminded me of the Irish ballads I’ve been singing with Mrs. Murphy. Kind of like one of those, but not anything I’ve learned yet.”

      “Maybe it will come to you later.” Owen pressed on. “What else can you tell us about him? What was he wearing?”

      Paige made her thinking face. “A dark jacket and gloves. He broke the safe and took the bag. And then—” her expression twisted and Victoria realized her daughter might be about to cry “—he broke the cookies.”

      Scooping her distraught nine-year-old into her arms, Victoria patted Paige’s back while turning to look at the tall cooling rack where she’d left ten dozen frosted cutout cookies. It had taken her most of the evening to decorate them, between darting up front to wait on the last of the evening’s customers and running the register report before tucking the money into the safe. She’d closed at eight—a mere ten minutes ago.

      Now the cookies lay smashed all over the floor, clearly stomped upon. Victoria took a step closer to assess the damage.

      “Stay back.” Owen raised his hand, and his fingers brushed her sleeve. “There might be a decent footprint. We don’t want to disturb anything.”

      Victoria stepped backward, not needing physical contact with her long-ago beau added to her evening’s troubles. Her heart stuttered at the faint touch of his hand. Was it her imagination, or was he even more handsome than he’d been in high school?

      “What’s the fuss in here?” Charlotte Newbright’s plump figure entered the room, and she gasped as she stared at the gaping safe, its locking mechanism collapsed in on itself. “We were robbed?”

      Owen turned to the older woman. “Have you been in the building for the last ten minutes? You didn’t hear anything or see anyone?”

      Charlotte’s dyed red hair in its choppy, gold-streaked cut fluttered as she shook her head. “I was in the northwest dining room, chatting with your brother Douglas and that pretty little Merry of his. Such a darling couple.” With that pronouncement, Charlotte planted her hands on her hips and turned to Victoria. “Everything was in the safe already, wasn’t it, dearie? You ran today’s report just before you left.”

      “Yes. The whole weekend’s receipts,” Victoria tried to stifle the deluge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. “We were too busy for me to make it to the bank Saturday morning. Friday through Sunday were in that safe.”

      Owen looked up from his notepad. “You’d already cleared out the cash register, even though Douglas and Merry were still here?”

      “Oh, yes.” Charlotte waved her hand, answering for Victoria. “We close at eight on Sundays, you know, and they were the last ones here. When I asked them if they wanted dessert, they knew it was close to closing time, so they paid for their meal before I brought them their pie. Told them to take as long as they needed. Got to talking with them—such sweet folks.”

      Victoria realized Charlotte might jabber on infinitely if she wasn’t interrupted. Her friendliness was an asset to the Sugar Plum, especially since Victoria preferred to stay in the kitchen, but the woman didn’t always know when to stop talking. “I’d just totaled out the cash register before I left to take the cookies up the street,” she clarified.

      “I see. So all the money was in the safe. Can you tell me what was taken?” Owen asked.

      Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. Yup, she could tell him exactly how much, but that didn’t mean she wanted to speak the words out loud, in front of her daughter and Charlotte, who would only worry.

      “Let’s get you up to bed, Paige,” Charlotte suggested. “It’s almost bedtime.”

      “But my cookie—”

      “You can bring it upstairs.”

      Paige’s eyes brightened and she consented to going upstairs with Charlotte. Victoria felt a rush of relief, glad Paige was leaving the room before Owen recognized anything of himself in her, or caught on to the significance of her age. As long as he didn’t find out when Paige’s birthday was, he likely wouldn’t make the connection.

      As the two headed for the door, Owen cleared his throat.

      Victoria tensed, fearful he’d ask Paige a telling question.

      But his words were innocent enough. “Is my brother still here?”

      “They left just before I came into the kitchen.” Charlotte shook her head. “I locked the front door after them. I’m sorry we didn’t see you come in or he might have come back to see for himself what was up, him being the police captain and all. But those two wanted a booth in the back corner, out of the way and to themselves. Didn’t even bring that little boy of hers with them, and you never see Merry without Tyler.” She gave her tongue a meaningful cluck. “That’s serious romance, if you ask me, getting a babysitter and all.”

      “Thank you,” Victoria whispered to Charlotte gratefully. “Good night, Paige. I’ll be up to tuck you in shortly.”

      “Take your time,” Charlotte said with a wink.

      Victoria wasn’t sure what the wink was for. Because Charlotte was removing Paige from the potentially traumatizing crime scene? Or because she was leaving Victoria and Owen alone? Charlotte had her own ideas about Victoria’s need for a man in her life, but Victoria had made it clear she wasn’t interested in romance.

      “Paige?” Owen called her back before she reached the steps. “Can I ask you one more question?”

      Paige turned back to Owen, patiently looking at him with eyes so much like his—because they were his. Fitzgerald blue eyes.

      “When is your birthday?”

      “January 10.”

      “And you turned nine this year?”

      “Yes.”

      Victoria worked up the courage to look at Owen. His attention was on Paige, and though he kept a kind smile on his lips, his blue eyes had hardened.

      “I’m sorry I missed it by almost two months. Happy birthday, a little late.” He dismissed her with a wave, and she carried her cookie happily up the stairs with Charlotte huffing along behind her.

      Owen stared after the little girl as she disappeared from sight.

      She couldn’t be.

      She had to be.

      Was Paige his daughter? Owen flipped to the calendar at the back of his notebook and counted off the months. Nine months before January 10 would have been April 10. Ten years before, he and Victoria had been together until mid-May.

      His head swirled and he tried to think. Victoria had left him, running off with Hank Monroe right after graduation. Paige was Hank’s daughter. Everybody knew it.

      Except the calendar indicated otherwise.

      Owen shook his head. Focus. He had to focus on the investigation. Ever since Olivia Henry’s death two months ago, the Fitzgerald Bay Police Department had fallen under intense scrutiny. Folks claimed they’d bungled the investigation of Olivia’s murder. People were demanding answers, СКАЧАТЬ