Undercover in Copper Lake. Marilyn Pappano
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his hands. He’d called the jail when he got in last night and found out that they were generous in their visiting hours, taking breaks only for meals. In double the time it would take him to drive over and find a parking space, he could be sitting in a room with Maggie.
Telling her Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t cooperate. This is worth going to jail for.
Most of Craig’s employees in his other businesses knew that from the start. Don’t snitch; don’t inform; take the heat and the time from any trouble they got into, and they’d get along just fine with the boss.
Maggie hadn’t known, probably hadn’t cared. Hell, she’d gotten herself and her kids on Craig’s radar without the benefit of even one paycheck.
If there’s a bit of trouble around, you kids will find it, Grandpa Holigan used to say. Apparently it was still true.
Sophy and the girl left, taking drinks in paper cups with them. He waited a minute to give them time to walk away, left a decent tip for table rental, and walked out to find Sophy standing at one of the outdoor tables and chairs that had been in his blind spot, talking to an older woman, and the girl stealthily making her way to the corner of the building.
Sean passed her, turned the corner and, totally surprising himself, stopped, waiting for the little girl to slide around the corner to freedom. It came in about five seconds, ending in a sudden halt as she realized she wasn’t alone. Her gaze traveled up from his work boots, over his legs, on up across his black shirt and finally reaching his face.
If his shaggy hair and unshaven face scared her, it didn’t show. She still looked as bold as could be. But the sight of her put fear into him. The dark skin and black hair he’d seen in the shop, but the delicate features of her face: the shape of her nose, the deep dark eyes with long lashes, the mouth, the jaw, the fragile, vulnerable, tough air about her...
This was his niece. Maggie’s baby. The threat Craig was using over both him and Maggie.
“Who are you?” She had the sense to whisper so her voice wouldn’t draw Sophy’s attention.
“The one who’s gonna drag your butt back to your foster mother if you don’t go on your own.”
A scowl transformed her pretty little face into a pretty little unhappy face, and she folded her arms over her chest. “You’re not my boss.”
Matching the scowl was easy. He’d perfected it sometime between crawling and learning to walk. No five-year-old could do it better.
After a stare-off, she backed up a few steps, curving around the corner until she was out of sight. Her voice whispered back, though. “I don’t like you.”
“Good for you.”
A moment later, Sophy called, “Come on, Daisy. It’s time to get to work.”
Leaning one shoulder against the warm brick wall, Sean imagined just being with Daisy all day was work in itself, especially for a pretty blonde who hadn’t been raised in the Holigan ways. Apparently, it was too hard for Maggie when she had been raised in the family.
He watched Daisy dance away as Sophy tried to claim her hand to cross the street. Sophy won that round. The kid dragged her feet, but Sophy kept her moving. Daisy deliberately walked on the wrong side of the light pole at the next intersection, forcing Sophy to release, then quickly reclaim her hand. His gaze followed them all the way to their destination, an old house with a shop on the first floor and living quarters upstairs, just down the street, then he spun around and headed for his car.
He’d seen the younger of his nieces. Now it was time to see Maggie.
* * *
The county jail was located behind the Copper Lake Police Department. Back in the day, most of the cells had been in the basement with only small, barred windows high on the outside walls. The only thing a prisoner could see, depending on his position, was the sky or the feet of people walking by. The glass, inlaid with wire between the layers, had been thick, making conversation tough though not impossible. Being loud and disruptive was one of the Holigan family qualities.
Sean parked his car, shut off the engine and stared at the squat brick building ahead. He could think of about a hundred things he’d rather be doing—even wrangling the youngest Holigan had to be easier than this—and he seriously considered putting it off for an hour or two or five. He hadn’t talked himself into action either way when abruptly the driver’s door was jerked open.
Sean flinched, leaned away, drew one leg onto the door frame for a quick kick, but a flash of images stopped him: eyes he’d once known as well as his own, an ear-to-ear grin, a gold badge, a holstered weapon. That was all he had the chance to notice before strong hands pulled him from the car and into a bone-jarring hug.
“I’ll be damned,” Ty Gadney said, letting him go, then giving his shoulder a punch that made him fall back against the car. “Granddad always said you’d be back someday, and here you are. Hell, Sean. You could keep in touch with the people who tolerated your smart mouth at least once every fifteen years.”
Ty, all grown up, shaved head, a detective, just like he’d always wanted to be. How many nights had Sean shared his room, dimly lit, the box fan in the window drawing in the damp night smells, talking about what they were going to do someday?
Sean had to force his voice to work. “How is Mr. Obadiah?”
From behind Ty came the answer in a distinctly sultry, sweet Southern woman’s voice. “Feisty and sassy as ever.” She stepped into view, pretty, womanly, and maternal and sexy all at once.
Ty’s grin widened as he slid his arm around her waist. “My old buddy Sean. My fiancée, Nev Wilson.”
She offered her hand, and Sean took it after a moment. She held on longer than he expected. “So you’re Daisy and Dahlia’s uncle. Heartbreakers, all of you.”
Saying that he’d only learned of his nieces’ existence yesterday, that he’d caught his first glimpse of Daisy this morning, didn’t seem the way to ingratiate himself with Nev, so he pulled his hand back. “Don’t blame them. You can’t choose your family.”
“Oh, don’t I know it,” she said.
There was a story behind that fervent agreement, but he wasn’t here to learn anyone’s story but Maggie’s.
Letting his hold on Nev slide free, Ty circled to the front of the car, hands on hips, an admiring look on his face. “So you got The Car. Babe, from the time he was thirteen, this was all he ever talked about—this car. A 1970 Chevelle SS 454. Oh, man, she’s a beauty.”
When Nev made a dismissive sound, he gave her a chastising look. “Don’t be making fun of my appreciation for a fine vehicle. You practically cried when your car burned up at the Heart of Copper Lake, and it had nothing on this one.”
“That car was my baby.”
“This car is his baby.” Like a cloud passing over the sun, Ty went serious. “You here to see Maggie?”
“If she’ll see me.”
“Of course she’ll see you. Why wouldn’t she?”
Sean could think of fourteen years’ worth of reasons.
“Hold on, and I’ll go in with you.”
Taking Nev’s hand, Ty walked with her to a big old Mercury a few spaces away, half a block long and two lanes wide, hell on gas but with enough room for a party inside, all done up in baby-blue. Sean had worked on that car plenty of times when he was living with the Gadneys—and plenty of times when he wasn’t. It was the only way he’d had to repay Mr. Obadiah for giving him a place to stay when he needed it.
Another thing he would have to do: go see Mr. Obadiah, knowing that he’d let him down, too. This trip was going to be all kinds of fun.
After kissing his fiancée and helping her into the car, Ty stood back and watched as she drove away. Sean watched,