Kitabı oku: «Lawman's Redemption», sayfa 4

“Someone to see you, Brady.”

He glanced at the cramped space set aside for a lobby, where the dispatcher gestured, expecting to see Hallie, a few minutes early for their lunch. The only one there, though, was a teenage girl. Though there was something vaguely familiar about her, he was sure they’d never met. Purple hair was hard to forget.

So were enough holes in her ears to make the wind whistle through. There was a gold bar and chain through her right eyebrow, a stud through her nostril and another in her navel, around which a circle in what appeared to be a Celtic design was tattooed. He didn’t even want to think about where else she might be mutilated.

He backtracked a few steps in her direction. “Can I help you?” he asked brusquely.

She was sprawled on one of the molded plastic chairs, her long legs stretching halfway across the room. Her boots were clunky, black and scuffed, her skirt was too short and rode low on her hips, and her lace top had been too small a year ago. A pair of headphones dangled around her neck, she wore way too much makeup, and her expression was 100-percent whiny adolescent pout.

Her insolent gaze started at his feet and moved up. By the time it reached his face, she’d curled one lip in complete disdain. “You Brady Marshall?”

“Yes.”

“A cop. Jeez, what a loser.” She stood up, her thin body looking like a stick figure unfolding. She was about five foot ten—not a bad height for a young woman. Not a great one for a barely-a-teenager girl. “Well, there’s my stuff.” With a hand that bore rings on every finger, she pointed in the direction of a duffel bag. “Let’s get out of here.”

Clomping on the wood floor, she got as far as the door before realizing that he wasn’t following. “We-ell?”

“Who are you?”

She clomped back to stand in front of him and sneered.

“Don’t you recognize me? Why, I’m your own little girl, and I’ve come to stay with you.”

Behind the counter, a clipboard clattered to the floor, and over by the coffeemaker, someone muttered, “What the—” Brady didn’t look at either eavesdropper. He didn’t take his gaze from the girl.

He never thought of himself as a father, not even as having been a father for a few short months. Even though he’d paid child support without fail for the past fourteen years, it was testament only to how desperately he’d wanted out of the marriage. Sandra had wanted money, and he’d agreed to give it in exchange for a quick divorce and escape to go off and lick his wounds.

Even after she’d admitted to sleeping with any man who was willing.

Even after she’d taunted him with the fact that he wasn’t the father of her little girl.

Even after she’d stripped him of even the slightest hope that the baby whose birth he’d been awaiting so anxiously could possibly be his.

He studied her, trying to reconcile this tall, skinny, odd-looking child with the tiny, cuddly baby he’d fed, rocked to sleep and changed diapers for. That baby had smiled sweetly and cooed whenever she saw him, and she’d clung to his finger every time he’d held her.

This one…

This one was waiting for some sort of response from him. So was everyone else in the squad room.

He moved a few steps closer to her. “What’s your name?”

“Les Marshall.” Then she rolled her eyes as if he were making unreasonable demands. “Alessandra Leigh Marshall. Can we go now?”

See? Sandra had explained, still woozy from giving birth. Sandra, Alessandra. Her pretty little girl could be named after her and yet still have her own name. Wasn’t she clever?

Cleverer than he’d been.

He glanced around at the curious faces in the squad room. No one even tried to pretend that they weren’t openly listening, and he couldn’t blame them. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Hallie he had deep, dark secrets. He’d worked with these people for more than six years, and this was the first any of them had heard of a marriage, a divorce or Texas.

Or a daughter.

“Tell me something,” he said, gesturing from her spiked purple hair all the way down to her combat boots. “Are you making a fashion statement, or do you just enjoy making your mother squirm?”

The question took her by surprise. She blinked, then sneered, “That’s none of your business.”

Which meant she was making her mother squirm. Brady couldn’t begin to imagine how intensely Sandra hated her daughter’s look. She was the vainest, trendiest, most appearance-conscious woman he’d ever known, and it must have killed her every time Les walked into her line of sight.

Aware that everyone was still watching, he gestured toward the door. “Let’s discuss this outside.”

He hustled her out the door into the courthouse lobby, then outside. On the east side of the building, the lawn stretched across half a block, with sidewalks leading to park benches and war memorials. In cooler weather, retired old men and other folks with time on their hands often filled the benches, but thanks to the day’s heat, they were the only ones there.

He stopped in the dappled shade of a large oak. There was a breeze blowing, but all it did was rustle the leaves. It didn’t provide any cooling. “So you’re Sandra Whitfield’s daughter.”

With a put-upon sigh, she ticked off names on her fingers. “Actually, Sandra Whitfield Marshall Davis Thompson Valdez Napier. For the moment.”

So Sandra had five marriages and four divorces behind her. Of course, she wasn’t looking for a husband, a family or any of the usual stuff. She wanted money, security, an easy life. She was a beautiful woman and thought nothing of trading on her beauty to fulfill her goals. Even if it did make her little more than a very-high-priced hooker.

“And you’re my father,” Les went on. “Like it or not.”

She sounded pretty sure of herself—almost as sure as Sandra had been that he wasn’t. She’d had no doubts, and she’d left none for him.

Obviously, Sandra had lied—either to him or to Les. The question was, which one?

“Where is your mother?”

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she shrugged and leaned back against the tree. “Right after she put me on the bus to come here, she headed south of the border for her annual summer spa treatment. She won’t be back for a week…or two or three—though she promised she’d get home before school starts again. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”

Brady gazed across the park to a familiar little silver-blue convertible. For fourteen years his life had gone exactly the way he wanted it—no trouble, no entanglements, no complications—and he’d been perfectly…well, not happy, but satisfied with it. Then Hallie Madison had sat down at his table in the bar, and all his quiet loneliness and satisfaction had been shot to hell. And now this. Which gods had he pissed off lately?

“What about your stepfather?”

“Which one?”

“The current one.” His voice sounded testy, and he made a conscious effort to control it. “Is he home?”

“Yeah…but you can’t send me back there to him. Adam never lets me stay when Sandra’s out of town. He married her in spite of my presence in her life.”

“What about your grandparents?”

“You mean Jim and Rita? Your parents? You’d send me to stay with those grandparents?”

Brady’s jaw tightened until his teeth hurt. He wouldn’t let Jim and Rita Marshall have temporary custody of an angry copperhead. A copperhead’s venom had nothing on theirs.

“Then your mother’s parents.”

“He died years ago, and we don’t see Sandra’s mother. She’s poor, you know.”

Sandra had been, too, dirt poor, until she’d seduced her way into some money. And he’d made it so easy for her. She’d smiled at him, touched him, and he’d been a goner. Even when she’d told him the truth—about the baby, her affairs, her only reason for marrying him—he hadn’t wanted to believe her. He’d told himself she was lying, just trying to hurt him.

She’d succeeded, with her truths as well as her lies.

And if it turned out that her insistence that he wasn’t her baby’s father had been just one more of her lies, if she’d deliberately kept him away from his daughter for fourteen years, he swore he would make her so damn sorry she would never get over it.

“Listen—”

Les interrupted. “Sandra said you always made excuses for not ever wanting me to visit, but this time it ain’t gonna work. She’s gone, I’m here, and for a couple weeks, at least, there’s nothing you can do about it.” Her grin was mocking. “You can’t even turn me over to the cops because you are the cops.”

“I don’t even have an extra bedroom.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor. Better make some arrangements.”

Was he actually considering taking her into his home? he wondered, more than a little panicked, then answered himself immediately. What choice did he have? He was the only person in the entire state of Oklahoma with any sort of ties to her. It would only be until he could get hold of her mother or her stepfather and make arrangements to return her to Texas. Besides, if she was his daughter….

That muscle in his jaw clenched again. “How can I get in touch with Sandra?”

“You can’t. I told you, she’s on her annual keep-me-beautiful spa retreat.”

“Spas have telephones.”

She smiled her mother’s smug smile. “Not this one. No telephones, no televisions, no e-mail or faxes. Just days of pampering.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Look, it’s hot, I’m hungry, and I’d like to get cleaned up. Traveling by bus sucks big time. Let’s get outta here.”

He removed his hat and dragged his fingers through his hair, then glanced at the courthouse. Four faces hastily ducked out of sight at the sheriff’s department windows. He couldn’t even get angry with them for being curious. “I’m meeting someone for lunch. After we eat, I’ll…uh…”

He didn’t want to leave her alone for the afternoon in his house. He didn’t have much that was really private there, and the most important of those items was locked up in the gun cabinet in his bedroom. Still, he didn’t know this kid. He didn’t have a clue how much of a problem child she really was. He could come home and find the place cleaned out, trashed or burned to the ground.

The answer to this problem—possibly—came out of A Moment in Thyme across the street, stopped at the Mercedes, then crossed into the park. She smiled when she saw him, then the smile slowly faded as she noticed Les.

“Hi, Brady,” she greeted him when she reached them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all. Hallie Madison, this is Les…Marshall.”

Les gave Hallie a bored look, then grunted a greeting. Hallie looked at her, then back at him. “And Les is your…?”

He figured she was hoping he would say sister, niece or cousin. He wished he could, but truth was, he couldn’t say anything.

After a moment of awkward silence, Les sarcastically said, “He has trouble saying the word—which isn’t surprising since he hasn’t been around for fourteen years to practice. I’m his daughter, and I’ve come for a visit.”

That surprised Hallie. Her hazel eyes widened, and her delicately arched brows arched even higher. Brady had no doubt she was remembering that just twenty-four hours ago, he’d told her he didn’t have any kids. And now here one stood, in the all-too-bizarre flesh.

But almost immediately Hallie smiled, a bright practiced smile that could have fooled any one of her sisters but not him, and she offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Les.”

Grudgingly, the kid shook her hand, then pulled back right away.

“This is quite a surprise,” Hallie went on. “If you need to cancel lunch, Brady, I understand—”

“No. Les is hungry, too. There’s a place a block away called the SteakOut. We can go there.”

“A cop eating at a place called the SteakOut?” Les rolled her eyes dramatically. “How…small-town.”

Brady scowled at her, then pointed north. “It’s that way, if you don’t mind walking.”

As they started toward the intersection, he glanced at the department windows again, and saw even more faces pressed up against them. First they found out he apparently had a daughter no one knew about from a marriage no one knew about, and now he was meeting the sheriff’s new sister-in-law for lunch. He was going to be the subject of gossip so intense it would probably get back to Reese and Neely all the way down in the Caribbean.

He really did have the damnedest luck.

Chapter 4

The SteakOut was the perfect ranch-country steakhouse, Hallie thought as they followed the hostess to a table. The walls were paneled with what looked like old barn siding, and the chandeliers were made from wagon wheels. Various brands hung on the walls, along with other cowboy stuff—lassos, horseshoes and blankets, a few rodeo champion belt buckles. The food smelled wonderful, making her realize how hungry she was, but apparently it wasn’t enough to distract the other diners from them.

“Damn, all these hicks look like they’ve never seen a kid before,” Les muttered.

“More likely, they’ve never seen a kid with him—” Hallie nodded toward Brady, who looked as if he’d rather be staked to an anthill under the desert sun “—who wasn’t in handcuffs.”

And they probably hadn’t seen him in here with a woman before, either. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first time he’d been in the place.

“Yeah, well, if they don’t quit staring, I’m gonna—”

“What?” Hallie asked. “Give ’em something to stare at?”

Les looked at her belligerently for a time before letting a smile slowly form. “This isn’t the worst I can get, you know.”

“I know. I was your age once, too.”

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”

Hallie returned the smile. “Not so long that I couldn’t wrestle you to the ground and tickle you till you pee your pants.”

On her left, sitting at the head of the table, Brady cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Hallie exchanged looks with Les, then said, “I believe your father wants us to be quiet.”

“You be quiet. I gotta go to the bathroom.” Les pushed her chair back, then headed back toward the entrance.

As soon as she was gone, Hallie’s smile faded. Now that the surprise was wearing off, she knew it was silly, but she felt betrayed. She’d thought she and Brady were building some sort of friendship—thought they had some kind of connection that they lacked with most other people. He’d shared his secrets with her, for heaven’s sake.

They probably hadn’t been secrets at all. Probably everyone in town knew everything about him, and he’d just lied to her.

Lied.

The man who’d told her he was as honest as the day was long, and she’d believed him.

“Listen, Hallie…”

Jaw clamped shut, she glanced at him. She wouldn’t make it easy for him by asking questions or responding in any way. Let him get the explanation out all on his own.

“This is as big a surprise to me as anyone else.”

Her resolution to stay quiet did a quick poof! into thin air.

“You just happened to forget that your marriage to your ex-wife produced a daughter?”

His mouth thinned. “No, of course not. But…she’s not my daughter. At least, that’s what I always believed.”

“And why would you believe that? Because it was easier than being a part of her life? Because then you could go off to New Mexico and Colorado and Oklahoma and do what you wanted and never have to deal with her?”

His eyes turned cold and hard, as if they’d been chipped from a chunk of frozen sky. “I believed it because her mother swore it was true. I told you Sandra had a lot of affairs. She was convinced that one of her boyfriends was Les’s father, not me. That’s when I ended the marriage.”

“But Les uses your name. She believes you’re her father.”

“I know. Apparently, Sandra lied to one of us.” A scowl settled over his features. “I don’t think Les knows why I haven’t been around for fourteen years, and if she doesn’t, I’d rather not tell her.”

Of course not. What would it do to the mother-daughter relationship if he said, Hey, kid, you haven’t had a father in your life because your mother drove him away? Though judging from the way Les looked, Hallie wasn’t sure there was much of a mother-daughter relationship to damage.

“I didn’t lie to you, Hallie. When you asked me if I had any kids, I honestly thought the answer was no.” He reached back to rub his neck as if it ached. “Even now I don’t know…”

“But you’re going to let her stay.”

“For a while. What else can I do?”

He could put her on a southbound bus, or drag her onto an airplane, or simply call her mother and demand that she come and get her. He could even turn her over to social services. After all, a man had no obligations to his ex-wife’s child.

But if she was his child, too…

“I, uh…I can’t get off early today,” he went on, his gaze fixed somewhere around her hands, resting on the tabletop. “Reese is gone, and one of the deputies called in sick today, so we’re shorthanded. I was wondering…if maybe you could…” He drew a deep breath, then met her gaze. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

She smiled a bit. “There’s no shame in asking favors. Everyone needs help from time to time.”

“Not me.”

“Ha. You need help right now, and the reason is on her way back here.” She didn’t need to look to know that Les was returning from the bathroom. The central focus of virtually every diner’s attention was enough to tell her.

In a rush, Brady blurted out, “Will you keep an eye on her this afternoon?”

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” She watched as Les circled the next table, then pulled out her chair. “I’d be happy to.”

“Redneck goobers,” Les said as she sat down. “They should keep their looks to theirselves.”

“Aw, come on, Les,” Hallie gently chided. “If you didn’t want people to look at you, you wouldn’t dress in a manner guaranteed to make them look.”

The kid gave her a scornful look, then scanned the menu. “Jeez, did I forget to mention that I’m a vegetarian? And you bring me to a freakin’ steakhouse? Don’t you know what red meat does to your body? To say nothing of the fact that consuming animal flesh goes against the laws of nature.”

“Animals eat animals in the wild,” Brady muttered.

“Some of them even eat their young,” Hallie said with a teasing smile. “What kind of vegetarian are you? Vegan? Ovo, lacto or lacto-ovo?”

Les’s expression turned suspicious. “What do you know about vegetarians?”

“Honey, I live in California, where I used to give parties for hundreds of people with menus that allowed for every dietary restriction you could possibly think of.”

“I’m lacto-ovo. I eat ice cream. And cheese. And ranch dressing.”

“So you could have a salad, a baked potato, some veggies and dessert.”

“Yeah, I could.” Les looked from her to Brady. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Hallie looked at him, too, curious about the answer he would give.

His cheeks flushed just a little under his dark skin, and he answered with a frown, “We’re…friends.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

His flush turned to a deep crimson blush, and he opened his mouth twice without getting any words out.

“If he is,” Hallie said, “it’s none of your business. In fact, if he isn’t, it’s none of your business.”

“I bet he isn’t. Sandra says he’s dreadfully lacking in social skills. She says he never had a clue how to make a woman happy.”

And Sandra was a deceitful, scheming, lying witch, Hallie thought snidely.

The waitress took their orders while dividing her surreptitious looks between the three of them, then returned almost immediately with drinks and salads. When the silence had dragged on interminably, Hallie nudged Brady under the table, then nodded slightly toward Les.

He raised his brows, then gave a little shrug. “So…what grade are you in, Les?”

“Tenth.”

“Do you like school?”

“Jeez, what kind of moron would I be if I said yes to that?”

This time Hallie nudged her under the table. Les scowled in response, then grudgingly said, “No, I don’t like it, but I’m good at it.”

After another awkward moment, Brady asked, “Do you still live in the same town?”

“The only moving we do is from one man’s house to another. You think Sandra would consider moving away from Marshall City when she’s got the only Marshall grandchild in existence?” To Hallie, Les added, “The whole damn town’s named after his family. His parents practically, like, own the place. Can you believe it?”

Interesting. And yet he hated the entire state of Texas, where this town was located, and seemed more alone than anyone she’d ever met. Apparently, Sandra wasn’t the only one who’d broken his heart.

“Do you ever see them?” he asked stiffly, his gaze gone cold and hard again.

“Sometimes,” Les replied with a careless shrug. “But not without Sandra.”

“Good.” Brady breathed the word so softly that Hallie barely caught it, but she couldn’t miss the muscle twitching in his jaw or the way his fingers gripped his fork as if he might grind the stainless steel to dust.

Very interesting.

The rest of the meal passed in similar fashion. When they left the restaurant, Hallie gave a soft sigh of relief. She liked Les, and obviously she liked Brady, but the tension radiating from him after that mention of his parents had been unnerving, as had being the center of attention for everyone else in the restaurant.

They walked back to the courthouse in silence, then stopped out front. “I have to go back to work,” Brady said, avoiding looking at either of them as he spoke. “Hallie’s offered to keep an eye on you until I get off.”

“I don’t need a baby-sitter,” Les protested.

“Aw, come on,” Hallie said. “A few people have been known to actually find me pleasant company.”

A half frown, half pout settled on the girl’s features, pulling the bar through her eyebrow askew. “Sandra said you’d dump me on someone else the first chance you got.”

Hallie slid her arm through Les’s. “Let me guess. Sandra doesn’t work, and she devotes every waking moment to taking care of you.”

“Well, you’re right about the not working part.”

Hallie started walking toward her car and gave the kid no choice but to come along. “Brady, I’ve got Neely’s cell phone,” she called over her shoulder. “Give us a call when you get off.”

“Hallie.”

She glanced back, then disentangled herself from Les. “My car’s the blue Mercedes. Want to wait over there? I’ll just be a minute.” She strolled back to Brady, who hadn’t moved a step.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. What are…friends for?”

Again his cheeks turned pink. “I really appreciate this.”

“I know.” She smiled ruefully. “You haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of your deep, dark secrets, have you?”

The look that came into his eyes was bleak and made her regret the question. “No. I don’t guess I have.” After a moment, he shook his head as if to clear it. “I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be around.” Impulsively she squeezed his hand, then walked away. When she reached her car, Les was leaning against it.

“Nice car,” she said. “Adam has one just like it.”

“Who’s Adam?”

“Sandra’s current husband.” Then her features shifted fluidly into a scowl. “She was right. He doesn’t want me around. But that’s okay. I don’t give a damn.”

“That’s not fair.” Hallie unlocked the car doors, then slid behind the wheel. “You dropped in out of the blue. Any man would need an adjustment period, but especially one as private as your father.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Not long.” But she’d wager she knew him better than anyone else in town, if not anyone else, period.

“You know he’s got money?”

Hallie backed out of the parking space and into the street, then turned onto Main. “Truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought.” If she had, she probably would have guessed he had some income other than his undersheriff’s salary. He’d commented on how little deputies were paid, and yet he drove a late-model pickup truck that probably cost more than most houses in town.

“If you’re not after his money, then what?”

Hallie took advantage of a red light to study the girl, then gave a shake of her head as she drove on. Her mother had had way too much influence on this child. She hoped Brady let her stay around long enough to counteract some of it.

Following Stella’s directions, she drove to the Tucker house, pulled into the driveway five minutes before her appointment with Marlene Tucker and shut off the engine.

“Is this where you live?” Les asked as they got out.

“Not at the moment. But I might rent the place.”

“It’s kind of shabby.”

“Of course you would think so, being part of the family your whole town is named after.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Don’t be such a snob.” Hallie climbed the steps to the porch and took a seat on the swing. When she patted the space beside her, Les grudgingly followed her up, but sat in a nearby rocker instead.

“You ever take those things off?” Hallie asked, gesturing toward the headphones around the girl’s neck.

“When I take a shower and when I sleep,” she replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Other than that, no. This way I’m always ready when adults decide to talk to me.” She slid her hand in the outside pocket of her backpack, and a moment later music blared from the headphones. With a smug smile, she turned it off again. “So…what’re you after with Brady?”

“I’m not ‘after’ anything,” Hallie said. “We’re friends. I like him. I think he’s a good, honorable, decent man—” she grinned wickedly “—who just happens to be drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Huh. If you say so.”

“What does your mother tell you about your father?”

“She only talks about him when she’s between husbands or mad at me. Sometimes she says she never should have married him, and sometimes she says she never should have let him get away. He was her first husband, and she was real poor until she married him. She hated being poor.”

“There are worse things in the world, like being unhappy. Being sick. Having no friends or morals or decency.”

Clearly the conversation bored the child. “Where do you live in California?”

“Beverly Hills.”

“Do you, like, know any movie stars?”

“A few.”

“How do you know them? Are you rich?”

Hallie stood up as a station wagon turned off the highway and parked behind her car. “My ex-husband is a producer. He’s rich.”

“Well, hell, it’s real easy to talk like being poor don’t matter when you have money,” Les scoffed before Hallie shushed her.

Marlene Tucker was in her seventies, Hallie estimated—white-haired, pink-cheeked and polite enough to hide any dismay she might have felt on meeting Les. Squinting through her glasses, she studied Les’s hair after the introductions were finished. “The style doesn’t do much for me, but I like the color. What’s that called?”

Les looked far more accustomed to negative reactions to her appearance than positive. She self-consciously touched her hair, then shrugged. “Royal Passion.”

“Don’t you know that would open my husband’s eyes wide, if he came home and found me sporting a new Royal Passion ’do?” With a great laugh, Mrs. Tucker unlocked the door, then led them inside.

Contrary to Les’s pronouncement, the house wasn’t at all shabby. It was simple and cozy and had wood floors, a stone fireplace and a kitchen straight out of the fifties. The floor plan was straightforward—living room across the front, dining room and kitchen on one side, two bedrooms on the other and a bathroom in the middle. It was maybe one-tenth the size of her house in California, and she thought it was great. Without hesitation, she traded Mrs. Tucker two months’ rent for the house keys, then stood on the porch and waved goodbye as the old lady drove away.

Feeling a wonderful sense of satisfaction, she turned to Les. “You want to help me pick out some furniture?”

The girl put on a scowl as fierce as any her father managed. “I hate it when grown-ups ask if I want to do something when it’s clear I don’t have a choice.”

“No, you don’t, sweetie,” Hallie said, patting her cheek. “So put a smile on and bear it.”

Brady might as well have taken the afternoon off, for all the work he’d accomplished. It was hard to concentrate on anything when he kept wondering which one of Sandra’s stories was a lie. Was Les his daughter? If she wasn’t, exactly what were his obligations to her? If she was, what kind of changes would that make in his life?

And what did Hallie think of the whole mess?

Not that it mattered. She was only in Buffalo Plains for a few weeks. Even if she were sticking around, Les was only in town for a few weeks, too. And even if Hallie were sticking around, it wouldn’t be with him. He didn’t want a relationship, and she didn’t either, and…

Hell.

Reaching for the phone on his desk, he dialed Neely’s cell phone number. Hallie answered on the second ring.

“Hey, this is Brady. Are you ready for me to pick up Les?”

“Anytime’s okay. We’ve had a pretty good afternoon. I didn’t have to beat her once.”

“What?” he asked sharply.

There was a moment’s silence, then she said, “That’s a joke, Brady. We’re at Yesteryear. Do you want me to bring her by the courthouse? Or I can take her to your house, unless you don’t want me knowing where you live.”

“I live on Cedar Street.”

“Hmm. I still don’t know. So what’s the plan?”

There was a rustle of noise in the background, then he heard Les’s voice. “Tell him I invited you to dinner.”

“You did not,” Hallie murmured.

“Hey, you want to, like, have dinner with us?” Les asked.

“There. See, I did, too.”

“Anyone want to talk to me?” Brady asked dryly.

“I’m just awaiting your instructions,” Hallie replied.

He liked the sound of her voice, and he was grateful to her for taking care of Les all afternoon, and he hadn’t spent more than five minutes alone with her at lunch. Maybe an invitation to dinner was in order—especially since it would delay his being alone with Les. “Why don’t you take her to the house? Then—here’s a great idea—you can stay and have dinner with us.”