Fugitive Mom. Lynn Erickson
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“I can pay you. I’m not rich, but…”
He waved a hand. “Forget that. I owe Big Bob, I told you.”
“No, really, I insist.”
He reached a hand out and touched her wrist that lay on the table. Her skin burned. “No money, okay?”
“But your time is valuable. I couldn’t…”
“Let’s talk about it later, when this is over. Right now there are more important things to focus on.”
She bent her head and felt heat rise to her cheeks. She withdrew her hand from the teacup and laid it in her lap with the other.
“I’ll need the court papers, whatever you’ve got. And information on this Kerry Pope.”
“Of course. I brought everything I have on her.”
“And you realize you have to stay out of sight?” She nodded.
“Do you have a plan—what you’re going to do, where you’re going to live, anything like that?”
“No, not really. Not yet. I was going to ask my father what he thought.” God, she sounded lost and weak and stupid.
“My investigation might take a while.”
“I’m…I’m prepared for that. As long as Charley doesn’t go to that woman.” She tried to meet his eyes steadily. “This is all new to me. I’ve never broken the law before. It’s all so…sordid.”
“Hey, that’s too bad. You made the choice you live with it,” he said bitterly.
Her back straightened, and a wave of anger washed the heat from her cheeks. “I may not be a tough Vice cop, but I am Charley’s mother. I have to protect him. Can you understand that, Mr. Sarkov? Do you have any children?”
“No kids.”
“Well, then, how can you judge my decision?”
“I’m not judging your decision. Hell’s bells, I’m the last person on earth to judge anyone’s choices.”
“You’ll do this, then? Prove Kerry Pope unfit?”
“I can try.”
“All right. When will you start? Do you have the time?”
“I asked for my vacation days as soon as I heard from your father. I told you—”
“Yes, you owe him.”
Luke studied her face until her skin shrank. “Big Bob said I met you when you were a kid.”
“Yes, he mentioned that.”
“You don’t look the same.”
“I really don’t remember you, either.”
“I wasn’t very nice back then. He probably didn’t want me around you.”
You’re not very nice now, she wanted to say. Instead, she asked, “What exactly did he do for you?”
He looked away. “It’s a long story.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
He drank the last of his beer, not replying.
“So, you’ll start working on this right away? You’ll have to go to Denver, I guess,” she said anxiously.
“As soon as you get the files to me, I’ll do some preliminary stuff from here. Run a computer check, see if I can find anything new on the Pope woman. Call a few people, ask around. I have contacts.”
“But you’re not a policeman now.”
“No. I’m an insurance fraud investigator these days.” His eyes flamed with dark outrage for a split second, then the fire was gone, and his flat blue gaze returned.
She shuddered inadvertently. “But you can do this job?”
“Yeah, I can do it. If there’s anything to be found on your kid’s mother, I’ll find it.”
Grace looked away. “It sounds so awful when you say it like that. As if I were trying to frame an innocent person.”
“She’s not innocent, though, is she?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Listen, I know a lot about justice and truth and all that moral crap, and I can tell you there are gray areas. Lots of gray areas. Don’t sweat it. I’ll nail Kerry Pope for you.”
He sounded so positive. She tried to make herself believe in his assurance, but she didn’t know him. He was a stranger, really, and she couldn’t comprehend why Bob thought so much of him. But she had to trust her father. She had to.
“Do you want to eat?” Luke was asking. “I can order, if you’d like.”
Dinner with this man? “Ah, no, really. I have to get back to Charley. Thanks anyway.”
“I guess that’s it, then. Bob said he gave you a cell phone.”
“Yes.”
“Let me have the number. I don’t want to be calling Bob’s house.”
She pulled the phone out of her shoulder bag and read the number off to him. He didn’t write it down.
“Um, will you remember…?” she ventured.
“Yeah, sure. I’m good with recall.”
“Can I have your number?”
“Bob’s got my phone numbers.”
“Okay. Should I call you in the morning, you know, to see what you might need?”
“I’ll call you.” He regarded her for a moment. “Where are you staying?”
“Not at home,” she said. “My dad told me I shouldn’t be seen there.”
“Right. Where will you go, then?”
“Oh, I haven’t thought. Another safe house, maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Don’t use a credit card anywhere.”
“Yes.” She looked down at her cup of tea, cold now. “I’m aware of that.”
“Okay, then.” He stood, gazing down at her, and she rose too quickly, her shoulder bag sliding onto the floor. She leaned over to retrieve it, but Luke had already come around the table and picked it up.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Here,” he said at the same time, handing the bag to her, and their fingers touched for a heartbeat.
He followed her down the steep stairs to the noisy room below. He said something to the waiter who had sent her upstairs, and he smiled as he spoke. The change in his face was shocking; he looked young and carefree and so handsome for a split second that she felt her breath catch.
He turned back to her, his face once again frozen in its implacable lines, and pulled open the door for her. She hadn’t noticed when she’d entered, but on the door was a tiny, colorful Chinese birdcage with a wooden carved bird inside, and when the door was opened, the motion set the bird to warbling cheerfully. So incongruous, she had time to think, and then the door shut behind her and the sound was cut off.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
She pointed. “Right down the block.”
He told her he’d walk her there, and then he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. The evening sun clicked off the mirrored surfaces. She looked away.
“I’ll stay in touch,” he was saying as they descended the steep hill, and she felt his hand rest lightly on the small of her back. Her skin shivered.
He took her keys from her when they reached her