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He could feel the heat climbing into his cheeks. “I didn’t say–”
“You didn’t have to. You’re a coward, Detective Ames.”
The blunt assessment hit its mark. What had ever made him think that he could get around this woman? She was one tough customer. He met her gaze evenly. “Maybe I am, Mrs. Jackson. You don’t know much about me.”
“I know that you’re willing to turn your back on a little boy without even meeting him.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Walker muttered, thinking of the accusations his ex-wife liked to throw at him about his treatment of his own kids.
“What was that?”
He sighed. “I have two children of my own, Mrs. Jackson. Two boys.”
“Yes, you mentioned being married.”
“Divorced, actually. My ex-wife has moved to North Carolina. I see my kids for two weeks in the summer. My ex claims that’s still more than I saw them when we were living under the same roof.”
She surveyed him with that penetrating look that disconcerted him.
“Is she right about that?” she asked.
“Probably. I’m a dedicated cop. It’s never been a nine-to-five job for me.”
“Which is to your credit. I’m sure it’s not easy. Based on our phone conversation, I’m sure you’ve seen things that the rest of us would prefer to pretend don’t happen. That must take a terrible toll. The work must consume you at times. I know mine does, and it can’t be nearly as difficult as what you face.”
“That’s still no excuse for neglecting my family,” he said. “I was a lousy husband and not much of a father.”
“Your words or hers?”
He smiled at her indignant expression. “Hers, but she pretty much nailed it. I don’t deny it.”
“Owning up to your mistakes,” she said with a little nod of satisfaction. “I think maybe you have potential, after all, Detective.”
“I haven’t changed,” he insisted.
“But you can, with the right incentive.” She pushed the picture of Tommy back in his direction. “At least meet him. Tommy needs to know that he still has family out there. You owe him that. You surely owe your sister that.”
Walker couldn’t debate that point. He owed Beth for not being there for her, for not trying harder to keep her away from Flanagan, for not finding her years ago.
“Okay, you win. I’ll meet Tommy, but I’m not making any promises, Mrs. Jackson.”
“Fair enough.” She reached across and patted his hand. “I’m sure you’ll decide to do the right thing when the time comes.”
Walker wished he shared her faith. There was one more thing he had to do while he was here, though. He needed to go by the cemetery, see where his sister was buried.
“Before we go to see Tommy, there’s something I’d like to do,” he began.
“Stop by the cemetery,” she guessed. “It’s five now. I’ll call Daisy and let her know we’ll be there about six. And if you’d like to take flowers to your sister’s grave, I know where we can get some lovely ones.”
He hadn’t thought of flowers, but she was right. He needed to make a gesture, leave something behind. Maybe wherever Beth was she would know and would understand that she’d always been in his heart.
King waved his latest housekeeper out of the dining room. Never could trust the help not to pass along every word that was spoken in his house. Finally satisfied that she wasn’t lurking at the keyhole, he regarded his sons intently and asked, “Okay, now, what are we going to do about your sister?”
“I should have known you didn’t just invite us over here for a nice dinner,” Tucker grumbled.
“He never does,” Bobby agreed. “Steak always comes with a price. Daddy inevitably has something up his sleeve.”
King scowled at the pair of them. “Don’t smart-mouth me. Your sister’s in trouble and I want to know what you’re going to do to fix it.”
“Last I heard, Daisy was a grown woman who knew her own mind,” Bobby said. “What’s she done that’s so all-fired wrong? She saw a kid who needed someone and she took him in. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught us? That we have an obligation to look out for other people?” He lowered his voice and intoned, “’Spencers do their duty for the less fortunate.’”
King frowned at the mockery, but decided to ignore it. “Not when she’s going to wind up getting her heart broken,” he countered.
“I’ve warned her,” Tucker said. “She says she knows what she’s doing.”
“And Anna-Louise has warned her, too,” Bobby pointed out, then grinned at his brother’s startled expression. “Daddy’s covering all the bases. I gather we’re the second string, which must mean Anna-Louise struck out.”
The truth was, Anna-Louise hadn’t reported back to him yet, which galled King no end. He’d deal with her later. In the meantime, he needed someone else on the case.
“Somebody’s got to look out for your sister.” He scowled at Tucker. “I don’t know why you didn’t take that boy out of there when you had the chance.”
“You wanted me to arrest him?”
“He was stealing her jewelry, wasn’t he? You told me that yourself.”
“He tried. He didn’t succeed. I doubt Daisy would have approved of my slapping handcuffs on him and hauling him off to jail. She’d have demanded to be in the cell right next to him, and she’d have had Anna-Louise’s husband down there snapping pictures for next week’s front page.”
King didn’t doubt it. Richard Walton was a troublemaker, and a Yankee to boot. Actually, he was from Virginia, but he’d worked for one of the Washington papers, which was just as bad as being a Yankee by birth. Tucker was right. Walton would have stirred up a ruckus.
“Besides,” Bobby said. “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything. I hear Frances found the boy’s uncle. He’s due here today.”
“They’re over at the Inn as we speak. I saw Frances’s car there when I left the courthouse to come on out here,” Tucker added.
“This uncle, is he taking Tommy with him?” King asked, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.
“No word on that,” Bobby admitted.
“Well, why the heck wouldn’t he?” King demanded. “The boy’s his responsibility. Dammit, Frances isn’t going soft, is she? Do I need to call and tell her how to do her job?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Tucker muttered.
“I heard that,” King said, scowling at his oldest son. “The day hasn’t come when I can’t take on the likes of Frances Jackson. One word to the Board of Supervisors and she’d be out on her tush.”
“I think you’re underestimating the respect people around here have for her,” Tucker said. “And don’t forget, her ancestors are every bit as blue-blooded as ours.”
King chafed at the reminder. It was a fact Frances liked to throw in his face every year when Founders’ Day rolled around. In fact, the blasted woman prided herself on being a thorn in his side. She had been ever since grade school, when she’d publicly trounced him in a spelling bee. His daddy had never let him forget that he’d been beaten by a girl.
“I don’t want to talk about Frances,” King grumbled.
His sons exchanged amused glances. The spelling bee incident was one of their favorites.
“You know, I could disown both of you,” he declared. “Neither one of you shows me an ounce of respect.”
“I thought you did that last week,” Bobby said.
“No, it was last month,” Tucker countered. “I remember distinctly that he said he was going to disinherit us because we told him at Sunday dinner that we didn’t care about the price of cattle.”
“Well, dammit, what kind of sons don’t give a fig for the business that their daddy is in, and their granddaddy before him?” King demanded, thumping his fist on the table so hard it rattled the china and brought the housekeeper scurrying out of the kitchen. He waved her off. “Get back in there. I’ll call you when we’re ready for dessert.”
Bobby shot a sympathetic look toward the woman, who’d only been on the job for a few weeks. “You’re going to run off another housekeeper if you’re not careful,” he warned his father.
“So what if I do? It’s my house.”
“We’ll remind you of that when you start grumbling about having to do the dusting,” Tucker said, grinning.
King wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such disrespectful sons. If he didn’t need their help with Daisy, he’d have thrown them out and gone through with his threat to disinherit them.
“We’re getting off-track,” he said instead. “I expect you to do something about this situation with your sister. Make sure that boy leaves here with his uncle, preferably tonight. Am I making myself clear?”
“If you feel so strongly about this, why aren’t you over there telling Daisy what you think?”
“Because she doesn’t listen to me any better than the rest of you. If I show up, it’ll only make her dig in her heels.”
“True enough,” Bobby said. “Daisy got her stubbornness from you.”
“She got it from your mother,” King contradicted. “I’m a perfectly reasonable man.”
Tucker and Bobby hooted so loudly at that it brought the housekeeper peeking through the kitchen door. King gave up. He’d either made his point or he hadn’t. Tucker and Bobby would do what they wanted to do, the way they always did. So would Daisy, for that matter, even if it ruined her life. He could console himself that he’d tried to fix things.
He frowned at the eavesdropping housekeeper. “You might as well get on in here and clear the supper dishes, Mrs. Wingate.”
“Will you be wanting your pie and coffee now?” she asked as she eased into the room, giving him a wide berth as she loaded a tray with the dinner plates and serving dishes.
“I’ll take mine in the study,” he said. “These two can take theirs wherever they want.”
“I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of extra slices and head on over to Daisy’s to see what’s what,” Tucker said, glancing toward his younger brother. “What about you?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bobby agreed.
King regarded them both with satisfaction. Maybe their skulls weren’t quite as thick as he’d been thinking, after all.
“You’ll let me know what you find out,” he ordered them as Mrs. Wingate delivered his piece of apple pie and coffee and set a covered pie plate in front of Tucker.
“You could come along,” Tucker suggested.
“Not on your life,” King retorted.
“Scared of the heat,” Bobby observed.
“Probably so,” Tucker concurred.
“No, just saving the big guns for later, in case you two mess this up,” King told them. He scowled. “Which I am counting on you not to do.”
“Daddy, we will do our best, but this is Daisy we’re talking about,” Tucker reminded him. “I haven’t won an argument with her since she was old enough to talk.”
“Then it’s high time you figured out why that is and changed it,” King told him, shaking his head at the pitiful admission. “What kind of sheriff lets a little slip of a woman walk all over him?”
“One who’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses,” Bobby suggested.
“Exactly,” Tucker agreed.
King threw up his hands. “I swear to God I am calling my lawyer right this minute and changing my will. I’m leaving everything to a bunch of blasted bird-watchers. They’re bound to have more gumption than you two.”
“Glad to see we’ve made you proud yet again,” Tucker said, giving him an unrepentant grin as he headed for the door with the pie plate in hand.
Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed. “See you, old man.”
“I’m not old,” King bellowed after them, then sighed. He might not be old at fifty-nine, but his children were going to send him to an early grave. Every one of them seemed to be flat-out dedicated to it.
4
D aisy had spent the past few hours preparing Tommy for meeting his uncle. She had really tried to put the best possible spin on things for his sake, but he wasn’t any more thrilled by the prospect than she was. She had no answer for all of his questions about why he’d never even known of the man’s existence. Frances hadn’t been willing to share a single detail when Daisy had tried to pry a few out of her.
“I’m telling you I ain’t going nowhere with no cop,” he said flatly as he spooned soup noisily into his mouth late Thursday afternoon as they awaited the arrival of Walker Ames. Molly meowed plaintively, as if she understood his distress.
She had allowed Tommy to stay home from school, and she had taken the day off as well. It had probably been a mistake, since they’d spent the entire time sitting around the house brooding about whatever was to come. And when Frances had called midafternoon to report that Walker hadn’t even shown up yet, Daisy had been ready to take Tommy and vanish. What sort of man was late to a first meeting with his own nephew?
But he was in Trinity Harbor now. Frances had called from the Inn a few minutes ago and said they’d be by around six. Daisy had fixed Tommy a bowl of soup and a sandwich to distract him, but she hadn’t been able to touch a bite of food herself.
Tommy’s declaration hung in the air, adding to her stomach’s queasiness. How could she in good conscience send him away with a man he didn’t know? How could she not, when that man was his only living relative?
Finally she met Tommy’s belligerent gaze. “Tommy, do you trust me?”
“Some,” he conceded grudgingly.
“Then believe me when I tell you that you won’t go anywhere unless it’s for the best.”
He eyed her warily, his blue eyes far too skeptical for a boy his age. “Who gets to decide what’s best?”
The question made her pause. The truth was, she supposed that Social Services or the court would have to make the call. But Tommy was ten. He ought to have some say. And she intended to have quite a lot to say herself once she’d seen this Walker Ames with her own eyes. She considered herself to be a very good judge of character, although there was the matter of Billy Inscoe to contradict that fact.
“All of us,” she said finally. “You, me, a judge, the social worker and, of course, your uncle.”
When the doorbell rang, Daisy froze. Tommy dropped his spoon, sending splatters of soup every which way. For once, Daisy ignored the mess. For one wild moment, she considered grabbing Tommy by the hand and hightailing it out the back door, but that would only postpone the inevitable. She reminded herself that her students–rambunctious teens, at that–considered her quite formidable. A mere policeman would be no match for her at all.
“You can stay in here and finish your soup,” she said, then gave Tommy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Whatever,” he said, his doubt plain.
