Chapter 17
“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” Cissy asked, as she grabbed her keys and purse from the kitchen counter. She was so glad Jack had moved back in. So glad to feel safe and protected. So glad she’d managed to let go of most of her anger and insecurities, because she needed him now. Really needed him.
And she hated the thought of spending two or three hours alone with the lawyers for her grandmother’s estate, absorbing legalese and responsibilities. She’d avoided this meeting as long as possible, but there was no more putting it off. She’d twisted her hair into a sophisticated bun, donned her best pair of slacks and a decent sweater, and was ready to go.
But it would be nice if Jack would come with her.
Jack, however, was standing near the French doors, a shoulder propped against the wall, drinking from a beer.
“Talk to your lawyers? The same guys who wanted to stick it to me in the divorce?” Jack shook his head and scooped up Beej, who was nearly wiped out as he careened around a corner while chasing Coco. “Whoa, buddy.”
“Doggie!” Beej cried, pointing at the little dog, who at the moment was hiding under the table, her back toward the wall. Beej squirmed to get down and give chase again.
“I’m the babysitter, remember? By the way, you look great.”
Cissy felt her cheeks warm. God, she was pathetic, responding to Jack’s compliments like a blushing schoolgirl.
“Down, Dad-dee! I want down!” Beej, thwarted, was getting mad.
“In a minute,” Jack said, holding fast to the little dynamo.
“We could take Beej with us.”
“Oh, he’d be a blast in the lawyers’ office. Let’s take his sippy cup and binky and have him sit on our laps for an hour or two. Maybe we could bring Coco.”
“Point taken.”
Jack smiled into Cissy’s eyes. “Actually, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Those tight asses down at the law firm need a little shaking up.”
“Thanks, but you’re right. I’ll take a pass.”
“Down, Dad-dee!” Beej slapped his fist against Jack’s shoulder in frustration.
“Hey, no hitting.” Jack was suddenly serious as a heart attack.
Beej, surprised by his favorite person on earth’s sharp tone, buried his face in his father’s shoulder in embarrassment and mumbled a soft but defiant, “No, Dad-dee.”
“Careful, Beej,” Cissy warned. “Dad-dee is pretty tough.”
Beej turned his face her way and scowled. It was so comical, Cissy nearly laughed. “’Bye, sweetie,” she said, kissing him on his head, but Beej turned away.
“No kisses!”
“I’m going to kiss you too,” Jack threatened.
“Nooooooo!”
Cissy did laugh then, and Jack succeeded in giving B.J. a loud kiss to the top of his head, which Beej quickly swiped off. Jack and Cissy shared a moment of amusement. Their relationship had improved over the past few days, their life taking on a new togetherness since that final showdown over Larissa. Cissy believed him. She trusted him. She was glad he was home. And now they were moving forward one day at a time.
Unfortunately, while their relationship continued to improve, the circumstances surrounding the deaths in her family kept them under a shadow of suspicion and fear—and the watchful eye of the police. Cherise’s murder had been another shock, and Cissy also hadn’t gotten over seeing her mother in the doorway of Gran’s house. It was just one unpleasant surprise after another, but she was determined not to shut down and cower in her house. She had a life to live, and Jack was with her now. And with the police providing protection, and the ever-alert Coco on the premises, Cissy felt secure enough to strive for some kind of normalcy. Jack had ordered a new security system, and it was scheduled to be installed by the following week.
Nonetheless, she was wary and a bit nervous. Her request for Jack to join her today hadn’t been idle.
But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him see that she felt any fear. They were tiptoeing their way back to each other, and she couldn’t appear too needy, too eager. Their relationship had to be equal and solid for them to ever reach that same level of trust and commitment.
Cissy gazed out the window. The unmarked police car was parked across the street, courtesy of Detective Paterno. He claimed he was concerned about her welfare, as well as that of her uncle and brother, and that was the reason for the continued protection. The police in Oregon were watching Nick and James while Paterno considered Cissy his responsibility. This was both comforting and annoying. It was weird having two officers stake out her house 24/7.
Cissy cast an eye toward the sky. It was still sunny, but cold. She opened the closet door in the foyer and pulled out her jacket. “Tanya’s supposed to come by in a bit and pick up her final check. If you want to get out for a while, you could ask her to watch Beej.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her.”
Cissy made a face. “I don’t know. It’s not really a matter of trust. We just never quite clicked.”
“Because I suggested her upon my dad’s recommendation?” Jack asked, daring her to argue the point. “You were prejudiced. Thought maybe they’d had a fling or something?”
“Tanya? No.”
One of his eyebrows arched.
“She wasn’t his type,” Cissy explained, shrugging into her coat. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Jonathan would hit on any attractive younger woman; he seemed to think it was practically a job requirement. But Cissy felt he wouldn’t have recommended Tanya if they were romantically involved. The man was a cheat, but he didn’t like untidiness in relationships. At least that was Cissy’s take. He wouldn’t want the woman he was currently “seeing” working for his son.
And lately Jonathan had seemed more interested in his various business endeavors than women. He was always looking for the big score, a man who would rather chase rainbows than work. The same could be said for Jack’s brother. J.J. was a chip off the old block if Cissy had ever seen one, except that he wanted next to nothing to do with Jack’s life. Where Jonathan insinuated himself into Jack’s affairs, J.J. stayed away. Cissy had met J.J.’s ex-wife, Amanda, long after they’d been divorced and was sorry that hadn’t worked out. She’d liked Amanda right away. But Amanda couldn’t take the womanizing and the big dreams that never materialized, so she divorced J.J. and struck out on her own. She’d done well since the divorce, much better than when she’d been married.
“What are you thinking about?” Jack asked when Cissy went quiet.
“Your dad…and Tanya. Not as a couple. Remember, Tanya fired me, not the other way around. She suggested I check with the nanny school. She also thought I should see a shrink.”
Jack snorted derisively.
“I probably should.” Cissy smiled. “I mean, look. I let you back in the house.”
“That was pure sanity on your part.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, Tanya’s check’s on the counter.” Cissy walked into the kitchen and tapped the white envelope with a finger. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“With those guys, don’t count on it.” Jack took another pull from his beer, set the bottle on the counter, and eased Beej to the ground.
“’Bye.” She brushed a kiss over Jack’s lips, and he grinned. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs and make her think longingly of their recent passionate nights in the bedroom.
When he lifted his head, he casually picked up his beer again, as if he hadn’t experienced the sensations that were still sizzling through her bloodstream. He took a long swallow, eyeing her with amusement.
“You’re a big tease, Jack Holt.”
“Stick around and see how much teasing there is.”
“Promises, promises…I’d love to, but, you know, I have this hot date with three stuffed shirts who want to talk about wills and trusts and limited liability corporations and tax advantages, and gee…it just sounds so damned fun, I’ll have to take a rain check.”
She headed toward the garage and hit the button for the garage door opener. As she climbed into her car and backed down the drive, she saw Sara wheel in next door. Sara climbed out of her car and left the engine running. Spying Cissy as she headed toward her front porch, she sketched a wave, then stopped. A moment later she was heading Cissy’s way.
Inwardly groaning, Cissy pasted a smile on her face and rolled down her window.
“Hey, I want to apologize for the other day,” Sara said. “I know you’re going through hell. Sometimes I just forge ahead and damn the consequences. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
Today Sara wore espresso-colored slacks and a matching jacket with a V-necked cream sweater and a dull-pink, cream and taupe silk scarf looped artlessly around her neck. “I’m meeting some clients,” she said. “Had to run home and pick up some docs. Thank God the sun’s out, at least for the moment. Sales are hard enough without a torrential downpour.”
“The clients from Philadelphia?”
“No, they’ve decided to come in a couple of weeks.” Sara peered at Cissy more closely. “You changing your mind about the house?”
“It’s not mine to change.”
“Well, when it is, promise you’ll keep me in mind?”
Her persistence was awe-inspiring. “As I recall, you already gave the attorneys your business card,” Cissy reminded dryly.
“I’m a bitch on wheels,” Sara admitted with an embarrassed laugh. She shot a glance at the unmarked police car with its burly driver. “What’s going on there?”
“The police are watching the house just in case Marla shows up.”
She snorted. “I’m surprised the press aren’t camped out here too. One of ’em came to my door, wanted to know if I’d give an interview. I said sure.”
Cissy blinked. “You agreed to an interview?”
“I didn’t give away your family secrets, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like I know anything, but I thought maybe if they put my name on the news, I’d get some free publicity out of the deal.” To Cissy’s look of consternation, she said, “I must have been beyond boring, because it never even aired. I spent the whole time telling them how great you and Jack were and how unfortunate it was that you had to deal with all the bad publicity, and then I asked, oh, by the way, did I mention that I sell real estate? They didn’t go for it.”
Cissy almost laughed. Then Sara asked, “You going somewhere special?” She was looking over Cissy’s choice of dress.
“Meeting with those same attorneys over estate issues.”
“Ahh.” She looked hopeful.
“I’m not selling the house, Sara.”
“Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but never say never.” She glanced over at Jack’s Jeep, which was parked on the street in front of the house, across from the unmarked car. “Looks like Jack’s back. Is he part of the protection, or is it more than that?”
“Maybe a little of both.”
She nodded. “Well, he’s a great-looking guy, and he loves his kid.”
“We’re working things out,” Cissy said.
“So all that talk about divorce was just—talk? You never intended to go through with it.”
“I had every intention of going through with it,” Cissy responded heatedly. “But things have changed.”
“Can I ask how?”
“All this with my mother…losing my grandmother…it’s kind of put things in perspective, you know? Makes you ask yourself, What is family? What’s important?”
“But you said Jack was having an affair.”
“I was wrong.”
“Oh.” Sara’s brows lifted.
Cissy could tell she didn’t believe her. Well, fine. She didn’t have to. It wasn’t up to Cissy to convince Sara that she’d made a mistake. That just because women looked at Jack in “that way” didn’t mean he acted on their unspoken invitations. Maybe it was because Sara herself liked Jack’s company, became flirtatious and animated when he was around, that she was reacting now as if Cissy were burying her head in the sand.
“I’d better go,” Sara said, moving away from Cissy’s car. “Tell Jack I’m glad for both of you. And I hope things get resolved with your mother soon too.”
Cissy watched Sara hurry back to her house, steamed for reasons she couldn’t fully explain. She searched inside herself and realized it was because of the way Sara treated her. As if she never really mattered. Sara had a tendency to negate Cissy’s importance without even realizing it. It was as if she’d deemed Jack the prize and Cissy unworthy of his love, or even his interest. As if she expected Jack to wake up one day and recognize he’d made a mistake—that Cissy was too young, too inexperienced, too unsophisticated for the likes of Jack Holt.
And some of Cissy’s own insecurities where Jack was concerned had been triggered not only by Sara’s attitude, but by others’ attitudes as well. Larissa, for instance. She’d supposedly been Cissy’s friend, but that had all been a fantasy, she saw now. Larissa had merely put up with Cissy because she was married to Jack, but like Sara, she’d dismissed Cissy as a serious threat for his attentions. Sure, Cissy was married to him. Yes, she’d borne him a son. But Jack was out of her league: older, wiser, and too intelligent to want to seriously be with her “till death do us part.” Both women felt that it was only a matter of time until Jack was back on the market; Cissy could tell.
And she’d damned well almost followed through on their expectations!
Now she shook her head in disbelief. Had she been so affected, so unsure of her own worth, that she’d believed as they did?
Jack had told her that she was on a search for unconditional love, a product of her uncaring mother, selfish father, and remote grandmother. Maybe he wasn’t that far from the truth. Cissy had certainly let other women feed into her insecurities about his love for her.
Pulling out of her drive and heading into the city, Cissy realized that blaming Jack for cheating had almost become a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was sure he would cheat, she’d expected it based on his father’s and brother’s history, and therefore she’d pushed Jack away so hard that he damned near slept with Larissa. Then she’d compounded her error by kicking Jack out of the house and demanding a divorce!
Cissy pulled up in front of Joltz, feeling as if she were having some kind of epiphany. A parking spot had miraculously appeared, and she slid into it almost by reflex. She had some time before the appointment with the attorneys. Enough anyway to grab a coffee and take advantage of the parking spot, which was almost a must-do in San Francisco whenever one came available.
She felt slightly dazed. Both with the events of the past several weeks and her own self-realization. She wanted the police to catch her mother. She wanted to know how Marla had killed Eugenia or orchestrated her death. She wanted Cherise’s murder to be solved.
But she was glad she had Jack back. And she resolved that she would never let anything break them up again.
Never.
Diedre and Rachelle were behind the counter as Cissy walked inside. They were both busy helping customers, so Cissy got in line. Across the room Cissy saw Selma seated at one of the small tables near the window. It figured. There was no escaping her. If Cissy was anywhere near Joltz, Selma was there. Spying Cissy, Selma waved and headed her way. Cissy inwardly groaned. She wasn’t ready for Selma to take their “friendship” to the next level.
“Hi,” Cissy said, trying to infuse her voice with enthusiasm, failing miserably.
“You’re all dressed up,” Selma observed. “Where are you going?”
She managed to make the question sound cheery and perky instead of downright nosy, but it grated on Cissy’s nerves all the same. “Financial meeting with lawyers.”
“No jeans. Dead giveaway that you weren’t planning to spend the afternoon writing here.” Selma sounded proud of her powers of observation.
Cissy reached the front of the line, and Rachelle shot her a smile. “The usual?”
“Please. And a muffin. Those apple bran ones?”
“You got it.”
Cissy moved to one side to wait for her order. Selma moved with her as if they were old pals. She started telling Cissy how she’d always wanted to be a writer but was thinking of becoming a novelist rather than a newspaper and/or magazine writer. Cissy wondered if this, maybe, was what was driving Selma’s seemingly deeper interest in her. Did the woman hope she could help her in her writing ventures? Or was it something else?
Rachelle handed Cissy her latte and a plate with her muffin, and Cissy moved to an open spot at the bar surrounding the baristas, hoping Selma would take the hint and return to her own table. But Selma said, “Let me get my coffee,” then hurriedly gathered her things and settled onto the stool next to Cissy. Other patrons quickly scooped up Selma’s table, and Cissy was stuck with unwanted company. Rachelle caught her eye and looked sympathetic.
When Selma winced and rubbed above her right eye, Cissy tried to ignore her. But after the third time, she felt obliged to ask, “You okay?”
“I’ve been trying some decaf the last couple of weeks, but weaning off the caffeine gives me a headache. I guess that’s what it is. I thought caffeine was making me tense, but this is almost worse. Maybe if my problems went away, it wouldn’t matter.”
She’d opened the door for Cissy to ask her about those problems, but Cissy was already sorry she’d gotten dragged into the conversation. Faced with way more information already than she wanted about Selma, Cissy didn’t take the bait. Rachelle did, though.
“What kind of problems?” she asked, right on cue.
“The worst kind. The kind that involve men.”
Diedre looked over, her expression skeptical. “You got man problems?” she called over the blast of the espresso machine.
Cissy tore off a small piece of her muffin. It was lunchtime, but she couldn’t seem to get her appetite engaged no matter what she did.
“Sure do,” Selma said.
It felt odd to hear that Selma was involved in some kind of relationship. She hadn’t been with a guy at the funeral reception. Like Diedre, Cissy was kind of surprised. Selma had seemed single, unattached and maybe even not all that interested. With a small jolt, she realized she’d made assumptions about Selma like Sara and Larissa had made about her.
“How do you trust a guy?” Selma asked suddenly, as if she really wanted to know. “Really trust him.”
Rachelle slid her a look. “The million-dollar question.”
“We all have problems,” Diedre said.
“Maybe you have to have a little faith,” Cissy suggested.
“Do you trust your husband?” Selma gazed at her curiously.
Cissy dusted her hands, finished with her muffin, leaving about a third of it on the plate. “It’s important in a marriage,” she said, sliding from her stool.
“But do you?” Selma insisted.
Diedre and Rachelle were listening hard, as if waiting for Cissy’s answer too. “Yes, I do. It’s taken a while. I mean, marriage is…hard. But we have a son, and a home. Together.”
Selma seemed to take that in. “I just want to have him with me more. A home…Wow…Wouldn’t that be great?”
“You’ve got two homes,” Rachelle pointed out to Cissy. “Unless your real-estate friend gets her way and you sell your grandmother’s.”
Cissy shook her head. “That house was never really my home. I mean, yes, I did live there when I was younger, but it wasn’t a ‘home,’ if you know what I mean.”
“But what a cool house,” Diedre put in with surprising passion. “You got to live there. Lots of us never get that chance.”
“It wasn’t all that terrific,” Cissy disabused them. “We Cahills seem to have trouble in the happiness department.”
She left before the conversation could continue, always uncomfortable talking about her family. Stepping outside, she pulled on her shades, sliding them onto the bridge of her nose. The sun was bright, though it looked as if it were heading for a bank of clouds. It was a sheer delight after all the gray fog of the past few weeks. Cissy turned her face skyward and inhaled, some of her worry lifting with the change of weather.
She did trust Jack. She did. She loved him and felt safe with him, and that’s all that mattered.
And then she saw the unmarked car, its two officers shadowy within the interior, engine running, double-parked on a side street, facing her. So, they’d followed her to Joltz and would undoubtedly follow her to the lawyers’.
She hardly knew how to feel. Sure, it was protection, but geez…It sure felt like more than just surveillance…. Almost as if she were under suspicion….
Irritated, Cissy stalked to her car, threw open the door, climbed inside, and twisted the ignition. She pulled into traffic and watched as the car nosed into the street behind her, several cars back.
“Pain in the butt,” she muttered and wondered if maybe Paterno’s claim of protection was a cover for something else.
Jack wiped the remains of B.J.’s lunch from his face and got him out of his high chair and back on the ground, where he instantly started chasing Coco, who ran for the living room.
He cleaned up the kitchen, then collapsed the stroller and propped it against the wall. “Come on, Beej,” he called to his son, who followed Coco from room to room. “Let’s get to the park before the sun goes away.”
Beej’s running skills weren’t exactly causing Coco concern. The dog’s ears and tail were down, but she could easily keep ahead of his awkward chase.
Hearing Jack, Beej veered his way, grabbing his father’s leg to keep from falling.
Jack lifted him into one arm and grabbed the stroller with his free hand.
They were heading for the door when the front bell rang. “Tanya,” he said, remembering. He set Beej down and opened the door. But it wasn’t the nanny. It was his father.
“Dad?”
Jonathan lifted his hands at the surprised tone of his son’s voice. “Nothing’s wrong. I knew you’d moved back in, and you weren’t at the office, so I just stopped by.”
“You called the office?”
Jonathan leaned down to B.J., but he tore away in pursuit of Coco again.
“I was going to ask you to lunch,” Jonathan said casually.
“I already had tuna sandwiches with B.J. I’m babysitting while Cissy meets with the attorneys for Eugenia’s estate.”
“When’s she going to be back?”
“Couple hours.”
“What about Tanya?”
Jack gave his father a long look. “I can’t get away right now, Dad. What’s wrong?”
“Just wanted to see you. Is that a crime?”
Jack ignored his father’s defensive tone. He knew his father, and it was just a matter of time before Jonathan got to the real point of his visit. There generally was an ulterior motive. Sometimes minor, sometimes not.
“Beej and I are on our way to the park. You can certainly join us.”
“No, no. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. Just hold on about the park for a bit, and we’ll be fine.”
Jack threw a glance at B.J., whose attention was on the dog. “Want a beer?” he asked his dad, deciding he might as well give Jonathan his ear now rather than put off the discussion to some other time.
Jonathan accepted the long-necked bottle. “I’ve been talking to investors in these oil-drilling sites in South and Central America. Getting the money men together with the operational teams. You know what I mean?”
“You’re looking for investors in wildcat drilling?” Jack’s father had tapped him for money more times than he could count, always with the promise of a fabulous return on his investment. Mostly Jack bobbed and weaved his way out of the deals, but Jonathan seemed to always come up with a new one.
“I’m brokering some deals. I was thinking maybe you might want to get in on the ground floor.”
“I’d have to talk it over with Cissy, and now’s not the best time for us. A lot of things need to be resolved, financially, with her family.”
A cloud crossed Jonathan’s face. “I’d hate you to miss out on this, Son.”
Jack’s smile was noncommittal. He let his father expound heartily for long minutes until B.J. grew tired of chasing Coco and came back their way, hanging on Jack’s leg and looking up at him.
Jack picked up his son as Jonathan was saying, “I thought your magazine could do a small profile on me. Get some publicity going. It would be great if you were a part of this.”
Jack had heard about a lot of get-rich-quick schemes from his father, some of them full of merit, most not. Unfortunately, even the ones that panned out never really worked, for Jonathan had yet to see any of them to their profitable end. Long before that happened, he was off chasing another idea, another dream. Sometimes his brother was in on the deal, at least peripherally. They both believed that “big killing” was just around the corner.
“It’s a really great opportunity,” Jonathan said for about the third time when B.J. started chanting.
“Park. Go park. Park. Park!”
“In a minute there,” Jonathan cut him off a bit tensely, then launched into more particulars.
B.J. responded with, “Now, now, now!”
“Bryan Jack,” Jonathan snapped.
Beneath Jonathan’s bonhomie Jack heard nervous tension. This latest deal must be really important to him; but then, they all were.
“WE GO!” B.J. regarded Jack urgently.
“I promised him the park,” Jack said to Jonathan. “We really have to go, if we’re going.”
“Put it off till tomorrow.”
“Kind of important to follow through on promises,” Jack pointed out.
Jonathan got his face close to B.J.’s. “Okay, little man. Why don’t you go find some toys to play with? Your dad’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
“No, Poppa.”
“Don’t tell me no.”
B.J. scowled.
“And remember, grumpy boys don’t get to go at all.”
“Dad,” Jack warned, as Beej wound up for a siren wail.
“You can’t just give in to him,” Jonathan said, annoyed, over the escalating scream. “He’ll never learn anything!”
“Except how to be disappointed over and over again?”
“When can we have a real discussion?” Jonathan demanded. “This is important to me, Jack.”
“Dad…” Jack tried to comfort B.J., whose upset had turned to tears. Jonathan tossed his hands in the air as if everyone were conspiring against him just as the doorbell rang again.
This time Jack discovered Tanya on the porch. “I came to get my check,” she said uncertainly.
B.J. held his arms out to her as if she were a savior, and Jack, a bit reluctantly, handed him to the nanny, who cooed at him.
“There you go,” Jonathan said with relief as the little boy stopped crying.
“Go park!” he told Tanya. “Park!”
She turned her gaze to Jack. “You want me to take him to the park?”
“No, that’s fine. We were just leaving. You don’t have to.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Jonathan said, smiling at Tanya. To Jack, he added, “Didn’t I tell you she was great?” He loved taking credit for discovering her.
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“She’s the nanny,” Jonathan declared, as if Jack were just about as dense as he could be.
Jack was about to explain that Tanya was no longer employed, when he caught her eye. “I’d be happy to,” she said, hugging B.J. and smiling. “He’s a great kid. And you’re busy. It’s no problem, really.”
“You sure? He hasn’t been Mr. Happy today,” Jack warned.
“I think I can handle it.”
“You’re a fine young lady.” Jonathan gave her a warm look.
Jack handed Tanya her check, then helped tote the stroller to her car. They strapped B.J. into the extra car seat she used. “I’ll give this back to you, since you paid for it,” she told him.
“I’m sorry things haven’t worked out.”
Tanya shrugged that off. B.J. waved at him from the backseat window, and, with a deep breath, Jack returned to his father, who immediately, and enthusiastically, launched into more discussion about his new venture. Jack silently wished he could have gone with Tanya and B.J., his attention drifting a bit as he wondered how many more times he would play this scene out with his father. It was always jab and parry. And inevitably Jonathan would leave feeling Jack wasn’t a “team player” because he hadn’t invested in the latest investment opportunity.
Jack did agree to some free advertising in his magazine, however, and Jonathan finally wound down. He seemed to want to try one more approach, but Jack walked him to his car, casting an eye to the sun, which was now fighting against encroaching dark clouds. Jack checked his watch, worrying a bit. How long had Tanya been gone?
“The boy’s in good hands,” his father assured him as he climbed into his car. “Don’t you worry about Tanya, now.”
Jack watched his father head down the street. He didn’t have Tanya’s cell number. He wondered if he should go to the neighborhood park and look for them himself. The dark clouds were winning, swallowing up the sun and darkening the sky as if night were approaching. It appeared the heavens might open up in a downpour at any minute.
His father was right about one thing, though, Jack reminded himself: Tanya was a capable nanny. Cissy’s problem with her had been because of a personality clash. It had nothing to do with her love and care for B.J.
But he sure as hell wished she’d get back here.
When another fifteen minutes had elapsed and the first fat drops of rain hit the ground, Jack was through waiting. He grabbed his coat and headed determinedly for the door. Before he could fold himself into his Jeep, Cissy’s car turned into the drive and pulled into the garage. Jack turned back her way, reaching her as she was climbing from the car.
“Is Beej in your car?” she asked.
“No.”
“You left him in the house?”
The rain suddenly poured down in a torrent, pounding on the pavement, bouncing like silver pellets. Jack squeezed inside the garage beside Cissy, and they both watched the sudden flood as he explained, “Beej is at the park with Tanya.”
“Tanya?”
“My father stopped by, and Tanya came for her check. Dad wanted to have a talk with me, and she offered to take him to the park, so I let her. I was just going to find them.”
“How long have they been gone? Hopefully she got him back in her car before this rain started.” Cissy grabbed her purse, then glanced at the rain some more. “I’ll come with you.”
“Maybe you should stay in case she comes back.”
“The park’s not that far. If we miss her, she’ll wait.”
They hurried to Jack’s car, getting soaked as they ran. “So, what did your dad want to talk about? Swamp land in Florida?”
“Basically,” Jack said.
Cissy heard the resignation in his voice as they climbed into his Jeep. He knew as well as she did that his father was a five-star flake.
The unmarked police car rounded the corner as they got in Jack’s Jeep. Both Cissy and Jack glanced at it as they traveled the short distance to the park. There was no sign of Tanya’s car.
They circled the park, peering through the silvery rain that blew in front of them in waving curtains. There was no one about. The parking lots were empty, the place deserted with the advent of the rain.
“Could they have gone to a different park?” Jack asked.
“That would be a first. Tanya takes the path of least resistance. This one’s closest. Can I use your cell?” Jack handed it over, and Cissy dialed Tanya’s cell phone number from memory. It rang several times, and then Tanya’s voice said to leave a message. Cissy hung up and called her a second time, hoping Tanya might respond to the urgency of a second call on the heels of the first. But again, Cissy heard her message. At the end of the beep, she said, “Tanya, it’s Cissy. I know B.J.’s with you, but it’s raining cats and dogs. Can you bring him back? Jack and I are looking for you, but you’re not at the park. Thanks for taking him, but we’ve got things to do. We really need him back. Soon.”
She hung up, tamping down a growing panic.
Jack’s expression was grim. “Want me to take you back to the house?”
“I can’t imagine where they are.” She pressed her knuckles to her lips. “She should have come back as soon as it started raining. Beej should be home.”
“Isn’t there a park about five blocks up? It has more swings.”
“Yes…” Cissy’s breath felt like it was trapped in her lungs.
“We’ll go there,” Jack said, shooting her a concerned glance. “Tanya’s taking good care of him. Maybe they went for ice cream or something.”
Cissy didn’t say anything. She should never have allowed Tanya to be B.J.’s nanny, should never have listened to Jonathan. The man was no judge of character. Far from it! He was the worst. A flim-flam man. A womanizer. He probably had been involved with Tanya!
And now her son was missing!
She fought back a tide of paranoia. Don’t panic. Don’t freak out. Tanya wasn’t perfect, but she loved Beej. That had never been in question.
“How’d it go with the lawyers?” Jack asked.
She understood his attempt to keep her from flipping into a full-blown panic, but it only deepened her anxiety. “It was fine. Uncle Nick’s the executor, but we knew that already. There they are!”
Through the rain Cissy could see a woman carrying a toddler wrapped in a dark coat, hurrying down the sidewalk alongside the other park.
“That’s not B.J.’s coat,” Cissy realized, her spurt of relief fading quickly.
“And that’s not Tanya.”
Jack wheeled the Jeep around and back to the house. Before the vehicle was in park, Cissy sprang out and flew into their home.
No B.J. No Tanya.
“Where else would Tanya take him?” he asked her.
“Nowhere else. Well, wait…maybe her apartment?” Cissy ran out the door of the house.
“You have the address?”
She rattled it off, and Jack turned the Jeep around. Tanya lived past the airport. It wasn’t all that far, but it felt like the traffic was purposely keeping them from their destination.
It was enough to send Cissy into overdrive. She wanted to scream at the delays.
“Come on…come on…”
They drove in silence for a few miles: Jack negotiating traffic, Cissy trying to keep herself calm. Finally, she admitted in a small voice, “It makes no sense. Tanya wouldn’t take Beej to her place. Why would she? The only time they ever went there was because Tanya had to get extra clothes because she was going on a last-minute date.”
“Where else do you want to look?”
“No, no. Keep going. We’ve got to get there. I don’t know! I just want my son. I want him to be okay.”
“He’s gonna be fine.”
“How do you know?” She was on the verge of hysteria.
“He’s with Tanya. She’s taking care of him.” Jack said the words like a mantra.
They screeched to a halt near her apartment complex. Cissy scanned the parking lot. “There’s Tanya’s car!” There wasn’t another space to be had in the lot, so Jack circled, looking for a parking place. Rain battered the windshield, pouring so hard it was like driving through a car wash. “Damn this weather,” he muttered.
“Just let me out!” Cissy had her fingers wrapped around the door handle.
“Just a sec.”
“Please, Jack…” Her teeth were chattering.
“Take it easy, Ciss. We’ll find him.”
Jack squeezed the Jeep into a lined No Parking zone. “Screw ’em,” he said, yanking on the brake. Cissy threw open her door. “I’ll go,” he told her. “You stay—”
“No way!” She practically ran across the street to the dun-colored complex, a boxy monstrosity that had to have been built in the late sixties or early seventies, evading the newer, more stringent city planning restrictions.
Rain poured over her, dousing her in a flood. She ran toward the wrought-iron gate that led to the inner courtyard. The gate had originally been on an automatic lock requiring a visitor to ring to be buzzed in, but that lock was broken and looked to have been for quite some time.
Cissy shoved her way through, and Jack was right behind her. She hurried to Tanya’s door and twisted the knob. Locked.
“Tanya!” Cissy beat on the door with all her strength. “Are you there? Tanya! Open up!”
She waited a moment, holding her breath. Then Jack pounded his fists on the door panels as well, yelling even louder, “Tanya! It’s Jack and Cissy. Are you okay? We tried calling.”
They heard the sound of a window scrape open to their left. “Hey,” a disgruntled female voice called from one apartment over. “You trying to wake the dead? I work graveyard. Gimme a break.”
“My nanny lives here. She’s got my son,” Cissy said rapidly. “We can’t reach her. I’m scared to death something’s happened.”
“Keep your shirt on. I’ve got an extra key. Tanya and I swapped in case…something happened. I guess this is something.”
Cissy was on one foot and the other. She wanted to scream for the other woman to hurry. Jack stood like a sentinel by the door, arms crossed, expression taut.
Finally, a woman in her thirties opened her door, running a hand through tousled hair and squinting at Cissy and Jack. “It must be raining like the devil.”
“Please…” Cissy said.
“Okay, okay. You look harmless enough.” She gave Jack the once-over and self-consciously smoothed her robe. Rather than give them the key, she twisted open Tanya’s lock.
Cissy rushed inside, but Jack was even faster. Before she could react, he suddenly crushed her face to his chest. “Get out,” he ordered the neighbor. “It’s a crime scene.”
“What?” Cissy gasped. She wrenched herself free and shoved Jack aside, fear surging through her veins. Crime scene? “B.J.?” she whispered brokenly.
But there was no sign of her son.
Instead, in the center of the room, lying faceup on the floor, was Tanya.
The dark, ominous circle of a bullet hole sat between her surprised eyes.