Father and Child Reunion Part 2

“Rio’s investigating Mom’s death,” she told him, catching the scent of tobacco clinging to his shirt. “We were just talking about the woman who had those visions. Apparently she won’t be of much more help.”

“I know all that. What I want to know is where he gets off following me here. He’s been hounding me all day.”

“I’ve only called you twice,” Rio countered, his tone as reasonable as Hal’s was not. “I don’t believe that qualifies as hounding. And just for the record, I didn’t know you were here. The only car out front—” Cutting himself off, his glance sliced toward the front door and the vehicle parked at the curb. “I thought you drove a Lexus. Is that your Mercedes out there? The silver SL?”

“Am I going to see that on the front page tomorrow? Acting Mayor Buys New Car?”

Hal’s scowl removed the natural affability from his even features. Rio was amazed by the man’s defensiveness. Hal Stuart usually covered himself better than this. The city’s acting mayor was a master at public relations. In the five years Rio had been on the paper, he’d seen the politician portray sincerity, outrage, sympathy and enthusiasm with the skill of an Oscar-winning actor. But the man wasn’t acting now. Noting the pallor beneath his tan, Rio couldn’t help thinking that Hal looked far too tense to make the effort. To him, he looked very much like a man who’d been stretched about as far as he could go and was about to snap.

It also appeared that he wasn’t going to be real cooperative.

“Since you are here,” Rio continued, too practical to waste the opportunity, “you could save me another phone call in the morning. All I want is your statement about the stock you owned in the mining company Olivia was fighting on its lease renewal. As it stands right now, the article that will appear in the morning paper says you couldn’t be reached for comment.” It could easily be changed to “refused to comment,” but he didn’t care to pose that subtle threat. Not with Eve uneasily watching them both. “I can still get your remark in before the paper goes to press tonight.”

Closing his eyes, Hal raked his fingers through his hair, his expression moving from defensive to beleaguered.

“The police have already questioned me about this. I did own stock, but it was a poor choice of investments and I’ve already unloaded it. It’s no secret Mom and I had philosophical differences over the impact of that mine on the environment and the economy here, but it’s ludicrous for anyone to think I’d want her harmed because of it. I wish to hell that someone in this town would use a little logic. Why would I be pushing the investigation of anyone involved with the mine if I was illegally involved myself?

“Look,” Hal muttered, overlooking the fact that he’d revealed more to his sibling in the past minute than he had in the past month. “I’m as convinced as anyone in this town that someone connected with that mining operation is responsible for my mother’s death. Our mother,” he amended, belatedly including his sister. “I just wish the police would get some evidence on whoever it is so this would all be over with.” He paused, looking as if he didn’t know why Rio wasn’t writing any of this down. “You’ve got your statement, Redtree. You can leave now.”

Rio said nothing to Hal. He merely looked at Eve, who at that moment had no idea which of the two men she knew the least. Two minutes ago, she’d have bet her sanity she knew far less about Rio. “Hal,” she began, “Rio didn’t come to get a statement from you. He said he didn’t even know you were here, remember? He came to see Molly.”

Incomprehension flashed over her brother’s features. But any confusion he suffered lasted only long enough for his glance to slide in the general direction of the front porch. Molly had her back to them all, involved as she was with her bear and her dolls.

Hal apparently didn’t need a side-by-side comparison, anyway. His narrowed eyes jerked to the man at Eve’s side, then back to her.

It was obvious to most people that her child’s father was of ethnic blood, but Rio was hardly the only Native American man in town. There had been talk among their family friends since Eve had returned, and speculation, she was sure, about who Molly’s father might be. There always was when an unmarried woman had a child. But her mother, fiercely independent herself, had understood that cutting all ties with the father was sometimes the only way a woman could move on with her life, so Eve’s secret had been safe. Until now.

“I see.”

Without another word, Hal turned on his heel and disappeared through the kitchen. A moment later, having made the loop through the dining and living rooms, he emerged at the opposite end of the foyer near the front door.

His jacket dangled by the middle from his fist.

“I got about halfway through what you wanted me to look at,” he told her, refusing to meet her eyes as he fished his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “I don’t know why you’re in such a damn rush to get this done, but if you insist on taking everything to the attorney tomorrow, go ahead.”

The screen opened with a whine, causing Molly to look up from her play. Her sweet “‘Bye, Uncle Hal” drifted in on the early evening breeze, but whether or not Hal answered back, Eve couldn’t tell. He didn’t break stride until he reached his shiny new car. And not until he reached his car did Eve give up the impulse to go after him, whip him around and make him listen while she explained that she was hardly in a damn rush. She’d already been there for nearly three weeks, and she was simply trying to do what needed to be done. The house couldn’t sit there forever. She had other obligations-another life—waiting for her a thousand miles away. Though, as removed from it as she felt, it might as well be a million.

Willing herself to calm down, she turned back to Rio, her glance skimming his chin to settle on the middle button of his black rayon shirt. His chest looked so solid, his arms so strong. And she really hated that what she wanted right then was to feel those arms around her.

She was saved having to wonder where that impossible thought had come from by Rio’s quiet observation.

“I take it he didn’t know.”

“No one did. Other than Mom,” she added, just as the telephone rang.

Eve closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. Telling herself she could deal with all of this just fine if she’d take things one at a time, she set aside her frustration with her brother, put her concern over the police questioning him on hold and excused herself to the man who was in the process of slowly upending her life. Tomorrow, if she had time, she was going to have a nervous breakdown.

Straightening her shoulders, she headed into the living room.

Rio stayed back, watching her pick up the phone by the deeply tufted royal blue sofa. She seemed rattled and worried, and he was pretty sure from the paleness of her delicate skin that she hadn’t slept any better last night than she had the nights before. He was also dead certain she attributed her brother’s abrupt departure to what he’d just put together about the two of them.

He didn’t think she was right, though. He had been watching Olivia’s son for a while now, and he’d bet his laptop that the man had been more concerned just then with how he had embarrassed himself than with the paternity of his niece. Rio had to admit a little ambivalence on that matter, however. Though it would have been his own hide the guy would have gone for, he’d have thought a lot more of Hal had the man shown a little protectiveness toward his sister. Or even a little interest. As it was, when it came to Hal’s treatment of Eve, he was truly beginning to dislike the man.

It appeared that Eve’s conversation was going to take a minute. From what he could make of her end of it, the call had to do with a women’s shelter auction. With her attention occupied, Rio moved into the elegantly understated room, with its rich colors and gleaming mahogany. He’d never been inside this house until last week. The campus or his apartment had been his and Eve’s world. Even when he’d asked Olivia that last time where Eve had gone, he’d done the asking in her mother’s office downtown. But this had been Eve’s world, too, and it was light-years from the near poverty he’d grown up with.

Had he been the sort of man who craved wealth or possessions, he might have felt resentful or bitter about the disparity. He certainly knew those who would have. Indian and white. But the lure for him had never been material things. He had no need now for anything he didn’t already own. So all he considered as he moved through the room, aware of the fresh flowers Eve had added and the potpourri scenting the air with roses and spice, was that Olivia had done very well for herself.

According to what he’d dug up in the archives, Olivia was a self-made woman. Her husband had died twenty-one years earlier, and she’d managed to put herself through law school, work her way into private practice and then into politics, all while raising her family alone.

His glance skimmed Eve’s slender frame, her crisp white slacks, the navy blouse, the sleekly fashionable haircut. As he moved into the dining room, he listened to her voice, the certainty and sincerity in it. The sweetness. No one would ever have described Olivia Stuart as “sweet.” Tenacious and passionate. Dedicated, definitely. And, in many of those same ways, Eve was definitely her mother’s daughter. The one thing she didn’t have, however, was her mother’s thick skin. When something bothered Eve, it showed.

At least it did to him.

The long mahogany dining table gleamed beneath an ornate brass chandelier. The papers spread over one end caught his attention.

“I’m happy to help,” he heard Eve say, listening unashamedly to her conversation as he picked up a long yellow tablet.

He held the tablet toward Eve, lifting it as he raised his eyebrows in silent question to see if she minded his taking a look at it.

Her response was the slight pinch of her brow, but she didn’t shake her head no, so he turned his attention to the exhaustingly extensive list.

Thinking that these had to be the papers Hal had referred to before he’d split, Rio cast a quick glance across the rest of the documents. Those nearest a vase filled with yellow roses were formal pleadings that Wendall Norton, a local attorney, had prepared for filing with the probate court. Beyond them was the calling card of a real estate agent and an unsigned agreement to list the house for sale. What Rio held appeared to be a list of every item of value in the place. Everything from the crystal sparkling in the china cabinet behind him to every teaspoon, book and trowel in the house, garage and garden shed.

He pulled a breath and slowly released it. He didn’t have to try very hard to remember the day he’d come barging in here with all the finesse of a tank wanting his interview. Eve had been sorting through her mother’s clothes when he’d arrived, and the task had torn her apart. It seemed that she’d since had to go through the entire house.

“If you’re sure that’s what she wanted to donate, I’ll pick one up and drop it by the center this week. No, that’s fine. I can do it myself. I’m sure the electronics store on Juniper has plenty of Blu-ray players. It’s no problem at all.”

She watched him from across the room as she spoke. Hanging up a few moments later, she looked from him to the list he held. The consternation she’d masked during her call reasserted itself.

“That’s private.”

It wouldn’t be once it was filed with the court, but he didn’t mention that. He wasn’t looking for a story. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he just wanted to know what all she was dealing with.

He also wanted to know why she was looking at him as if he’d just pulled the wings off a butterfly.

He set the tablet back on the table. “I didn’t think you minded. I was just looking.”

“Like you were just asking my brother about his car and his stock?”

The accusation in her voice threw him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Eve, I was doing my job. He’s the one who assumed I’d come here looking for him. I wouldn’t have brought any of that up, if he hadn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter who brought it up.” Crossing her arms, she moved toward him, stopping a cautious arm’s length away. “I just want to know what that was all about. Why would the police treat Hal like a suspect?”

She was truly bewildered. That was easy enough to see. He could also tell, despite the way she’d deliberately lowered her voice, or maybe because of it, that she was more upset than she wanted to let on.