Colton's Secret Investigation

“Three.” His mouth quirked. “All sisters, after me.”

“Oh, lucky them,” she teased, but also meaning it. “A strapping big brother to look out for them.”

He gave her an odd look. “That’s exactly what my dad said when I hit about twelve. That it was my job, too, to watch out for them.”

“You’re close, you and your dad?”

He looked sad again. “We were. But… I couldn’t…” Another long breath. “My folks have been married for thirty-five years. And they’re still crazy about each other. They live in Florida now. My dad still treats my mom like a queen, and she thinks he hung the moon. But I couldn’t even keep that going for five years, let alone thirty-five.”

The moment he finished, she could tell he regretted saying all that. Essentially admitting that he felt like a failure for the destruction of his marriage. In the weeks they’d worked together, he’d rarely spoken of anything personal, so this was a switch. She wondered if he shared those feelings with anyone. And if, as she guessed, he didn’t, what it must feel like to keep all that bottled up inside.

Asks the woman who has plenty of secrets of her own to keep?

“What about Sam? Does he have any contact with them?”

“Not much.” He grimaced. “My ex saw to that.”

“Well, I guess you can fix that now, can’t you?” He gave her a startled look, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Your mom sounds like the kind of grandmother any boy would love. They’d probably both welcome the chance to help if you sent up a flare.”

“I…you’re right. Two of my sisters have kids, and they’re really close to them.”

“So there’s some help.” She frowned. “Who’s the guy who didn’t like him?”

Stefan’s expression hardened. “His mother’s fiancé.”

“Oh. Ouch.”

“And he doesn’t just not like him, he hates him. Gave her an ultimatum. Get rid of him or the wedding’s off.”

Daria’s eyes widened as she looked at him in utter astonishment. “His mother is marrying someone who would make an outrageous demand like that, and who feels that way about her own child?”

“Yeah, well, Leah’s always had a…calculating streak.”

“What is he, rich?” Daria asked.

“And connected. She’s an event organizer, and he moves in all the right circles.”

“No wonder your son is angry. He has every right to be.”

He stared at her for a moment. And then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I never thought of it like that, either. From his point of view.”

“You probably haven’t had time,” she said, trying to be understanding. “Just trying to organize childcare is a pain, with this case ongoing. And you had to get him into school in a rush, so it’s no wonder you haven’t had a chance to fix up his room or connect with other parents.”

He blinked. “What? What’s wrong with his room?”

“It’s fine…for a grown-up. But a kid needs his own stuff, needs things he likes around him, so he feels at home. And,” she added, “a smaller bed.”

Something flashed in those striking light brown eyes, something that made her wonder what he was thinking. But he only said, “I heard you say that. What difference does it make?”

“The difference between feeling lost in a place too big for you and safe in your own little shelter.”

It was a moment before he leaned back in the desk chair he sat in. She’d noticed early on he had the seat set a good three inches higher than a normal seat, to accommodate his height. Her feet probably wouldn’t even touch the floor.

“How do you know all this? You said you’d never had kids.”

She felt the old, painful pang. “No. Nor will I ever, biologically. Doctors told me that long ago.” She’d had years to get used to the idea, but that didn’t stop her from feeling sad about it now and then.

“I’m sorry. You’re obviously great with them,” he said, and there was a note of genuineness in his voice that she appreciated.

“I have friends with kids,” she answered evenly. “In fact, my best friend has three boys, including twins about Sam’s age.” She purposely chose the name the boy’s mother didn’t like, felt a small pleasure in doing it and didn’t care at the moment if it was petty. “I’ve been around them and babysat them since they were born.”

“So…tell me what all I need to do. Besides a smaller bed.”

“You might not like it.”

“I just want him to like it.”

She heard the undertone of desperation in his voice. He did truly love his son—he just didn’t know him. And she doubted she or anyone could have done much better under the circumstances.

“All right,” she said. “You want my opinion? There’s no place for a kid here, not even a yard, and it’s obvious. It looks like the proverbial bachelor pad.”

His gaze darted away, and he said uncomfortably, “Yeah, I was kind of going for that, after the divorce.”

“Do you still like it?”

“Actually… I never really did. I was kind of reeling, and it was just…”

“A declaration?”

His mouth quirked. “I guess.”

“You need furniture a kid can get on, even climb on, without being afraid of hurting it or getting it dirty. He needs books, toys, maybe a stuffed animal to hug at night, although he’d probably deny it. And more playing room—another reason for the smaller bed—and pictures of what he likes.”

Again he ran a hand over his head. “I don’t even know what he likes.”

“He likes that video game. Find some stuff about it—it’s everywhere. He likes grilled cheese sandwiches, like most kids, and I’m sure your Szechuan is way too spicy for him. Kids have simple tastes at that age. Peanut butter and jelly isn’t just a cliché. And,” she added with a grin, “he likes dogs better than cats.”

“Well, we’re in agreement there,” Stefan said with a wry laugh.

“Think about that, then.”

“What?”

“A dog.”

Stefan blinked. “You mean…get one? I don’t even have time to take care of Samuel, and you want to add a dog into the mix?”

“I didn’t mean tomorrow,” she said with a laugh. “But maybe take a trip over to Max Hollick’s place. The K-9 Cadets program. He’s got a bunch of puppies there for training. And since they’re all already spoken for, you won’t be confronted with Sam insisting on taking one home. But you can see how he is with them, see if you think it would be worth it.”

“That…makes sense,” he admitted. “As long as he knows we can’t do it now.”

“Maybe when this case is over.” She grimaced. “If it ever is.”

“It will be,” he promised. “But not if we don’t get back to work.”

“Yeah. Right.”

They went back to the frame-by-frame analysis of the security videos. They enlarged each frame in quarters to get a closer look at people in the background, looking for even a slight resemblance to Bianca. Daria had begun this by looking for the dress she’d been wearing, but Stefan had pointed out she could have changed at any time. He’d rather offhandedly mentioned a witness he’d once had, also a “working girl,” who’d told him she always carried a change of clothes with her in case something happened to what she was wearing. Like an extra-energetic client.

Daria had turned away as heat rose in her cheeks at his words. Unlike Stefan, if she blushed it would show beneath her lighter brown skin. Not, she thought, that he likely ever blushed. He’d probably seen too much, and he’d said that so casually. She didn’t want him thinking she was so green that such things embarrassed her, but in fact her county was usually a calm, quiet place, and she’d never encountered a case like this one before. Thank goodness.

It was nearly midnight and Daria’s eyes were burning when Stefan finally leaned back and rubbed at his own eyes, then shook his head. “I’ve had it,” he muttered.

“Me, too,” she agreed.

“I could be looking right at Bianca or our killer and it wouldn’t register.”

“Fresh start tomorrow?” she suggested, and he nodded. “I’ll mark the spot where we left off.”

“Maybe back it up to a half hour ago,” he said wryly. “I think that’s when my brain checked out.”

“Done,” Daria replied. She shut down the laptop; it was technically sheriff’s department property, so she’d take it with her. As they left the den, she glanced toward the hallway. “You’ll work it out with him, Stefan,” she said quietly. “Give it time.”

“Time? Took you less then half an hour to get more out of him than I have since he got here.”

“I have more practice,” she said with a smile.

He walked her out to her car, and she guessed from the way her breath made vapor that it was at or below freezing.

“Welcome to November,” she muttered. “Why aren’t you shivering?” He’d come outside in just his long-sleeved shirt, whereas she had on her jacket and was still cold.

“This is nothing. Add a little northeast wind off the lake for some lake-effect snow, and you’d have a mild Chicago winter,” he said.

“Humph. I’m from California. I’ll never get totally used to this.”

“There are ways to stay warm.”

She was sure he didn’t mean that as a double entendre, so she quashed her instinctive reaction. And he looked as if he regretted saying it anyway, so she turned back to what she knew was his biggest concern.

“Look, I know with work, and especially right now, it’s impossible, but Sam’s going to need kids to play with. Not to be critical, but Mrs. Crane doesn’t seem the type to bend and get down on his level.”

“No, she’s not,” he admitted. “But she was the only one available on such short notice.” He grimaced. “Leah called me on a Friday and said he’d be flying in on Sunday.”

Daria blinked. “Two days’ notice?” He nodded. And her already low opinion of his ex dropped another notch. “I won’t ask why on earth you got married in the first place, but…”

“She thought the job was glamorous, I guess. Exciting. Didn’t realize it’s mostly grunt work. And I…” He frowned. “Let’s just say she’s gorgeous. And can be quite charming, when it suits her purposes. We eloped after three weeks.”

Daria managed not to comment on that. Instead she asked, “Do you have legal custody now?”

He sighed. “No. She just sent him.”

Her mouth curled. “I’d want to make it all legal so she can’t yank him back if she changes her mind. I can’t imagine anything worse for a five-year-old than being tugged in two like that.”

“I would, if I was at all sure this was going to work.”

At first she winced inwardly. Would he really send the boy back under these circumstances? But he sounded so exhausted she thought she understood; it was all just too much right now.

“Why don’t I call my friend Fiona? She lives less than a mile from here. You could set up a playdate with her boys, see how they all get along. And if it works, make it a regular thing.”

Stefan stared at her. “I…you’d do that?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Of course I would. And Fiona is always looking for kids for her boys to hang out with. She’s also big on them playing outside whenever they can. They’ve got a huge backyard with a sandpit and an amazing play set her husband built, with ladders and a slide and a fort up top, and all kinds of things for the boys to wear themselves out on.”

“Sounds like five-year-old heaven.”

“It is,” she said with a laugh. “It’s a built-in babysitter and gets them away from screens. She never leaves them alone, mind you, but she can be out there and read or garden or do other things at the same time. Until winter—then she’s out there building snow things with them. She and the boys made a dragon once that was amazing. Shall I call her?”

“Please,” he said.

“First thing tomorrow,” she promised.

“Thank you,” he said, with such relief in his voice it made her smile up at him. And in the next instant, before she even realized what was happening, his arms came around her in a fierce hug.

It was a thank-you, she told herself. That’s all. Just thank you for help with a situation he was having trouble with. But repeating it didn’t help much when her heart was hammering and her skin sizzled at the contact with that broad, strong chest. And there she was, the woman who had been cold enough to shiver mere moments ago, suddenly overheating as if it were midday LA in the summer. All because this man had hugged her? She must be—

Her self-accusatory thoughts broke off suddenly as something else registered.

Hers wasn’t the only heart that had suddenly started racing.

Chapter 5

Uh-oh.

Stefan heard the warning in his head quite clearly. Crazily, his first thought was a memory from so long ago he couldn’t be sure exactly when it was, except that he’d been a kid, at his grandparents’ home, working on one of the endless jigsaw puzzles that were his grandmother’s passion. He’d always figured the urge to put the pieces of a crime together had come from her, since often it was the same sort of puzzle, with a ton of tiny pieces that all had to fit together.

It wasn’t any of his grandmother’s puzzles he was remembering now, however. It was the burst of satisfaction when a piece he’d tried fit. When it turned out to be right. When it slid into place perfectly.

Daria Bloom in his arms felt that way.

And that scared the hell out of him.

So why wasn’t he letting go? Why wasn’t he backing off? Why was he still standing here, holding her tight against him, letting his body wake up in a way he hadn’t felt since…he couldn’t remember when?

Because it feels good. Too damned good.

With more effort than it ever should have taken, he released her and stepped back.

“Drive carefully,” he said, as if that hug had never gotten out of hand. As if he hadn’t been standing there savoring the scent of her, the feel of her luscious curves against him. As if he hadn’t barely been able to resist the urge to tilt her head back and claim those lips with his own.

For a moment she just stood there, looking a little stunned.

“I…will,” she said, sounding like someone who had momentarily forgotten how to speak.

He watched her drive off. Reminded himself that she was tough, smart, careful and highly trained, so there was no reason for him to feel like he should be seeing her home. Not that he had any choice in the matter. Not with Samuel—Sam—asleep inside.

He realized he was standing out here in near-freezing air, staring after a car that was long out of sight. He went back in the house and made his way down the hall, careful to walk quietly. He peeked in the door of his son’s room. Or, rather, the guest room his son was using.

Guest room. And the truth of what Daria had said swept over him. Samuel felt like a guest—in other words, temporary. And that was his fault, for not thinking about this from the boy’s point of view.

Stefan eased the door open and went into the room. The light from the hallway cast just enough light to see his way to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked at the child curled up there. Realized the truth of what Daria had said—he looked tiny and helpless in the big expanse of the king-size bed he’d bought on the chance that someday his folks might come to visit.

He reached out and gently cupped his son’s face, taking the time for the first time since he’d arrived to really look at him, to acknowledge that this little boy was the same baby he’d held in such wonder, the same miracle that had filled his heart near to bursting. His, a part of him, yet a unique individual.

When he got up, even though it was late, he settled in with his tablet and started a search for kid’s furniture.

Daria was proud of herself. She’d gotten up and ready and all the way to the station without letting the memory of that hug last night invade her mind. True, it had been a battle, but by the time she’d settled in with the videos to pick up where they’d left off, she thought she’d beaten it back. Of course, the moment she’d thought that, the man himself arrived, and just looking at him blew up any idea that she’d permanently shelved the memory of what had transpired between them.

He’d stopped in the doorway to the office they were using when Melody Hughes, passing by with an armful of mail, had paused to talk to him.

Or flirt with him.

Daria fought the urge to get up and interrupt that conversation. Melody had a right to flirt with whomever she pleased, and Stefan was far too polite to shut her down.

Assuming he’d want to…

Melody was a cute little blonde whom some of the deputies secretly called Barbie because of her resemblance to the doll. Once one of them had accidentally done it to her face, and to his shock she had laughed. He was, she’d told the deputy, hardly the first person to do so. That reaction had earned her a lot of respect, including from Daria herself.

She watched them for a moment, assessingly. Not so much gauging their feelings, or lingering on the contrast of Melody’s petite blondness and Stefan’s tall, dark, powerful presence, but her own response. A response that was sharp, prodding and felt annoyingly like jealousy.

That thought roiled her even more, and she did not like it. She had no time for such nonsense, especially now, and especially with him. Not only was she working this case with him, but he was eight years younger than her, and his personal life was in chaos with Sam’s arrival. That was a trifecta of stop signs, and she’d darned well better obey them.

She thought she had managed to quash her unwanted reaction by the time he actually came into the office.

“Morning,” he said with that megawatt smile that could light up a room. He hadn’t given that to Melody. “I see you’re set up. I’ll just get some coffee and we can dig in.”

She gestured at the desk beside the seat he usually took, where a ceramic mug he’d brought in, telling her he hated drinking out of Styrofoam or paper, was already full of steaming coffee. “I poured you a cup when I got mine. Straight, right?” she asked as she sipped her own sugar-and cream-laced brew.

“I…thanks.” He picked up the mug and took a sip. Then another. “I may live,” he said wryly.

“We were up late.” She studied him for a moment, trying not to think about him and Melody in the doorway, or the hug from last night. Truth be told, she was acquiring an annoyingly long list of things she was trying not to think about with this man. “How was Sam this morning?”

“Not bad,” Stefan said, sitting down and swiveling the chair so he was facing her. “And he is Sam, by the way. I asked him. And it’s a relief not to have to keep correcting myself.”

“Good,” she murmured with a nod.

“He asked about you.”

She quirked a brow. “Did he?”

“He wanted to know if you were coming back.”

“That’s sweet. Unless he was hoping I wouldn’t,” she added.

“Hardly.” He took another drink of coffee, bigger this time, then set the mug down. “He liked you. A lot. He asked if you could go with us this afternoon.”

She blinked. “Where are you going?”

He held her gaze as he said, “Furniture shopping. For his room.”

“I’m glad.”

“So am I. He was so wary when I suggested it, it made me feel worse, but so excited when I said he could pick out whatever he wanted that it…it was like… I don’t know how to describe it.”

“You don’t have to,” she said softly.

“So will you? He really wanted you to come.”

“And you?” The moment the words were out, she regretted saying them.

“I never would have thought of it if not for you, Daria. And this is the first time he’s ever actually asked for something. So yeah, please. Unless you’ve got…a date or something tonight.”

She didn’t think she’d mistaken that hesitation. Which was odd, since they’d established early on, in that casual, getting-to-know-someone-you-were-working-with kind of way, that neither one of them was seeing anyone seriously. Or in her case, even nonseriously.

“All right,” she said. “It would be a nice break from this for a couple of hours.”

There. She’d put a time limit on it. That would make it…easier. Wouldn’t it?

“Thanks,” Stefan said, and he sounded relieved. “I just hope we can find something local. I’d as soon not drive all the way to Denver for this.”

“There’s a place over on Pine Peak Drive, where Fiona got some furniture for the twins. Maybe there?”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

They left it at that and started back in on the videos. Unfortunately, they had as little success as last night in finding any sign of Bianca, or any man that could clearly be her Blue Eyes. She’d lost track of how many times they’d watched the woman come out of the elevator, walk across the lobby toward the hotel bar, but never appear in the video from inside the bar. And the only people who visibly left the bar during the next hour they scanned were a group of three giggling women and the bartender who had gotten off duty and who they had verified had gone straight home to his very pregnant wife.

Finally, Daria got up out of the chair; she simply couldn’t sit any longer, staring at that screen. “The phrase beating a dead horse comes to mind,” she muttered. “I think it’s time to focus on something else for while. Maybe then something new will bubble up.”

“Agreed. Time to back-burner this.”

She smiled at the phrase, since it was what she called it as well when she put something out of the forefront of her mind and let it percolate. Often the answer she’d been hunting for popped up after she’d ignored the problem for a while.

Has ignoring the fact that he makes you twitchy stopped the feelings?

“When does Sam get out of school?” she asked abruptly.

He glanced at his watch. “In about twenty minutes.”

“Why don’t we go pick him up, feed him lunch and go shopping early?”

The smile he gave her then was well worth the gamble that a five-year-old boy would serve as a sufficient distraction—and keep her mind off pathways it most certainly should not be following.

Chapter 6

Stefan could almost see his son’s thought process even from this distance. Sam had come out of class with a small cluster of other boys who looked about the same age, although he was a bit taller than all but one of them. Sam had been talking animatedly with the other tall classmate, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding what looked like a drawing, but when that boy had apparently spotted a parent and headed that way, Sam’s entire body language changed. He slumped slightly and trudged toward the parking lot, where he was apparently used to finding Mrs. Crane waiting.

But then Sam spotted him, and Stefan’s jaw tightened a little at the boy’s sudden wariness. Things had been better between them this morning, but apparently that had been forgotten. But then Sam spotted Daria and instantly perked up. A smile forming on his face, he picked up speed.

“Hi, Daria,” he called out.

“Sam!” She waved at the boy, and a quick glance told Stefan she was smiling widely back at him. Sam broke into a run then and skidded to a stop in front of them. “What have you got there?”

Daria’s voice was full of an interest that made the boy practically shine. “We had to draw today.”

“Was it fun?”

“Kinda.”

“May I see?”

The boy hesitated, then held out the page of rough-textured paper. Stefan looked at it over Daria’s shoulder. It was recognizably a person in black, and a brown…creature of some sort, standing atop a long, wobbly green line he presumed was supposed to be grass. In the background was a gray scribble that went up and down across the page.

“Sam,” Daria said with a wide smile, “I was expecting stick figures, but this is so much better!”

Again the boy lit up. Was it really that simple? Was genuine praise that important? He tried to remember himself at that age. Remembered the first time he’d brought home a perfect spelling test and his mom had cooed over it and made him cookies. Maybe it was that simple.