“I thought you were taking classes toward your degree?” Maggie said.
“I thought the most practical thing for me would be a teaching degree,” Lola said. “I’m good with kids. And there’s some security in teaching, not to mention a small pension. Plus, there’s good vacation time—time I could put toward renovation. If I can find the right project.”
“Let me show you the upstairs,” Tom said. “We’re finishing the bathrooms up there and when we’re done with the tile and stone we’ll paint and carpet. That’ll go fast. We’ve got some new materials for the countertops and floors—not as porous, doesn’t stain...”
He was leading her up the stairs and when they were out of sight, Cal turned to Maggie. He showed her a half smile and lifted brow.
“A shared passion for home renovation,” Maggie said with a grin.
“They probably sound like us in bed,” Cal said. “Oh, oh, oh, how about travertine on the front walk...”
She put her arms around his neck, pressing up against him. “Oh baby, show me that marble with the waterfall edge...”
He got kicked by the baby. “You’re carrying a wild woman,” he said. “Have I told you how terrified I am?”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she reassured him. “Little girls always love their daddy best. Should we go upstairs and help Tom show Lola all his handiwork?”
“Give him a break,” Cal said. “Did he seem awkward to you?”
“Not at all.”
Cal’s phone rang and he picked it up off the kitchen counter. He looked at the screen and said, “This is work, babe. Make my apologies?”
“Sure,” she said.
Cal went into their bedroom, which would become his office in just a few weeks. For the time being it was a bedroom that sometimes doubled as an office if he needed a room with a door that closed. This particular caller was a woman Cal had worked with when he was with the law firm in Detroit. Cal had reached out to her for help with Sierra’s situation.
Alison started off as a paralegal before Cal met her. By the time he joined the Detroit firm, she was doing a lot of their investigating, which turned out to be her niche and her passion. Being in criminal defense, he had relied on her quite a bit. She was young, sharp, energetic and resourceful.
“Hey, Alison,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Quite a lot more than you might expect,” she said. He scribbled on a notepad while she ran down a list of the information she’d gathered, ending with, “Finally, this Derek Cox, I can’t locate him. Let me rephrase—I’ve located several, none in the Detroit area, none in the age range we discussed. If his name is Derek Cox and if he exists, he’s in the wind. The police have listed Sierra as a person of interest in their investigation into a hit–and-run but she isn’t a suspect, at least not at this time. They haven’t issued a warrant. Frankly, they suspect foul play in the disappearance of Sierra and the abandonment of her car, the car notably involved in the accident.”
“As I told you before, that’s one of the many reasons I’m looking into this. She saw a man here who looked like him. She couldn’t confirm that it was him. But it shook her up enough to come to me with her story. She’s afraid of him. How did you get this information?”
“An accident report and a brief conversation with the sergeant in traffic. I don’t get the feeling the case is getting a lot of attention. I hope I didn’t stir things up by inquiring.”
“How did you inquire?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.
“Insurance companies always want a few clarifications about accident details. Is there anything else I can do?”
“You can keep looking for this Cox,” he said. “It would help to know where he is. It would help to know where he isn’t, for that matter.”
“I’ll need a little more information, Cal. If your sister could answer a few questions—where he worked, where he lived, where he’s originally from. I need a little more to go on than he was driving her car that night.”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I’ll get back to you.”
He just sat for a moment after they disconnected. He was going to have to talk to Sierra. She had to know what he found out and if he was to help her, he would have to probe. He didn’t look forward to it. He left a message on Sierra’s cell phone. “We have to talk, whenever you’re free. I have some information for you. Important stuff. Let me know when you have time. Time alone.”
He tried to slap on the professional lawyer face rather than the worried brother. Not only did he have to face Maggie, there was company in the house. He gave himself a few extra minutes. When he walked into the great room, Maggie, Tom and Lola were all engrossed in studying the fireplace, something that had been installed before they’d moved in.
“This was one of the first things we added,” Tom was saying. “Barns don’t usually have fireplaces. Or so many windows...”
Cal wasn’t listening.
* * *
Sierra worked at the diner in the morning and then hurried back to the Crossing for lunch and to meet Cal. When she’d returned his call last night she had asked him if it was about her car and Michigan, and he had said, “Yes.”
“Is it all coming to a head now?” she had asked.
“All I have right now is information about the incident. The rest is still unknown to me.”
She was sure then.
Sierra hadn’t slept well. Her mind had been a little too busy. She’d spent years running away from things but sobriety made her see the folly of that. She’d learned many useful things, but high on the list were the benefits in facing your mistakes, taking responsibility and making amends. That was freedom. You couldn’t run away to get free, you had to face the truth to be free.
“I thought the most practical thing for me would be a teaching degree,” Lola said. “I’m good with kids. And there’s some security in teaching, not to mention a small pension. Plus, there’s good vacation time—time I could put toward renovation. If I can find the right project.”
“Let me show you the upstairs,” Tom said. “We’re finishing the bathrooms up there and when we’re done with the tile and stone we’ll paint and carpet. That’ll go fast. We’ve got some new materials for the countertops and floors—not as porous, doesn’t stain...”
He was leading her up the stairs and when they were out of sight, Cal turned to Maggie. He showed her a half smile and lifted brow.
“A shared passion for home renovation,” Maggie said with a grin.
“They probably sound like us in bed,” Cal said. “Oh, oh, oh, how about travertine on the front walk...”
She put her arms around his neck, pressing up against him. “Oh baby, show me that marble with the waterfall edge...”
He got kicked by the baby. “You’re carrying a wild woman,” he said. “Have I told you how terrified I am?”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she reassured him. “Little girls always love their daddy best. Should we go upstairs and help Tom show Lola all his handiwork?”
“Give him a break,” Cal said. “Did he seem awkward to you?”
“Not at all.”
Cal’s phone rang and he picked it up off the kitchen counter. He looked at the screen and said, “This is work, babe. Make my apologies?”
“Sure,” she said.
Cal went into their bedroom, which would become his office in just a few weeks. For the time being it was a bedroom that sometimes doubled as an office if he needed a room with a door that closed. This particular caller was a woman Cal had worked with when he was with the law firm in Detroit. Cal had reached out to her for help with Sierra’s situation.
Alison started off as a paralegal before Cal met her. By the time he joined the Detroit firm, she was doing a lot of their investigating, which turned out to be her niche and her passion. Being in criminal defense, he had relied on her quite a bit. She was young, sharp, energetic and resourceful.
“Hey, Alison,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Quite a lot more than you might expect,” she said. He scribbled on a notepad while she ran down a list of the information she’d gathered, ending with, “Finally, this Derek Cox, I can’t locate him. Let me rephrase—I’ve located several, none in the Detroit area, none in the age range we discussed. If his name is Derek Cox and if he exists, he’s in the wind. The police have listed Sierra as a person of interest in their investigation into a hit–and-run but she isn’t a suspect, at least not at this time. They haven’t issued a warrant. Frankly, they suspect foul play in the disappearance of Sierra and the abandonment of her car, the car notably involved in the accident.”
“As I told you before, that’s one of the many reasons I’m looking into this. She saw a man here who looked like him. She couldn’t confirm that it was him. But it shook her up enough to come to me with her story. She’s afraid of him. How did you get this information?”
“An accident report and a brief conversation with the sergeant in traffic. I don’t get the feeling the case is getting a lot of attention. I hope I didn’t stir things up by inquiring.”
“How did you inquire?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.
“Insurance companies always want a few clarifications about accident details. Is there anything else I can do?”
“You can keep looking for this Cox,” he said. “It would help to know where he is. It would help to know where he isn’t, for that matter.”
“I’ll need a little more information, Cal. If your sister could answer a few questions—where he worked, where he lived, where he’s originally from. I need a little more to go on than he was driving her car that night.”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I’ll get back to you.”
He just sat for a moment after they disconnected. He was going to have to talk to Sierra. She had to know what he found out and if he was to help her, he would have to probe. He didn’t look forward to it. He left a message on Sierra’s cell phone. “We have to talk, whenever you’re free. I have some information for you. Important stuff. Let me know when you have time. Time alone.”
He tried to slap on the professional lawyer face rather than the worried brother. Not only did he have to face Maggie, there was company in the house. He gave himself a few extra minutes. When he walked into the great room, Maggie, Tom and Lola were all engrossed in studying the fireplace, something that had been installed before they’d moved in.
“This was one of the first things we added,” Tom was saying. “Barns don’t usually have fireplaces. Or so many windows...”
Cal wasn’t listening.
* * *
Sierra worked at the diner in the morning and then hurried back to the Crossing for lunch and to meet Cal. When she’d returned his call last night she had asked him if it was about her car and Michigan, and he had said, “Yes.”
“Is it all coming to a head now?” she had asked.
“All I have right now is information about the incident. The rest is still unknown to me.”
She was sure then.
Sierra hadn’t slept well. Her mind had been a little too busy. She’d spent years running away from things but sobriety made her see the folly of that. She’d learned many useful things, but high on the list were the benefits in facing your mistakes, taking responsibility and making amends. That was freedom. You couldn’t run away to get free, you had to face the truth to be free.
