His Mother's Wedding

“I knew a couple of guys like that.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but for some reason she sensed they’d touched upon a commonality.

“Anyway,” she said, “I found this dirty, scraggly dog that afternoon, hanging out at the rear entrance of the Laundromat. It was hard enough finding food for Lori and I to eat, but I couldn’t just let that little guy stay on the street.”

The hint of a smile tugged at Rico’s lips. “I figured you for an animal lover.”

“I don’t know about that. I don’t have any pets now.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Cats and dogs need love and attention, and I’m not home very much. It wouldn’t be fair to them. But I’m sure glad I took Petey back to our apartment that day.”

“Why?”

“Two days later, in the middle of the night, he started barking like crazy and licking my face. And when I woke up, I smelled smoke.”

“Smart dog.”

“Petey was definitely a hero. Thanks to him, I managed to get my sister to safety.”

“Sounds like you were a hero, too.”

His voice had softened, hinting at a tenderness she’d yet to see in him. But she brushed off the hint of sentiment, as well as the compliment, unwilling to take any credit for doing what she’d always done—looking out for herself and her sister. “When the fire department arrived and found Lori and me unsupervised, with no food in the cupboards and the power turned off, they notified the police.”

“I hope they nailed your old man for child neglect.”

“They did. They also found drug paraphernalia all over the place.” In spite of her desire to be objective and informative in revealing the past, tears stung her eyes. She blinked away the emotion the best she could and continued. “Lori and I were taken to the county receiving home that night and got the first hot meal we’d had in ages.”

“Good.”

“Yes, it was. But they wouldn’t let Petey go with us.” She swiped at her eye, catching an escaping tear. “I think he ended up at the pound.”

“At least he was better off there than on the streets.”

“I hope so.” She sucked in a wobbly breath and slowly blew it out. “But I owed that dog something and I’ve always felt as though I let him down.”

“You were a kid. And it was out of your hands.”

“I keep telling myself that, but I still feel badly about leaving that sweet little dog behind.”

“When did all that happen?” he asked.

“Twelve years ago. I was eleven, and Lori was six.” She glanced at the table and swept her hand across the linen, flattening out imaginary wrinkles. “A couple months later the social worker told us that my father had signed the paperwork that released us for adoption.”

Rico didn’t seem unusually sympathetic—or cynical—which actually made it easier to talk, to pour her heart out.

His professional demeanor shouldn’t have surprised her, though. She’d done a little research on the Internet and learned that Garcia and Associates claimed to be both elite and discreet. And the firm had been enormously successful. She doubted a company achieved all that if the owner allowed his emotions to get in the way.

And that was fine with her. She wasn’t looking for sympathy; she was looking for her sister.

“Is that when you and Lori were separated?”

“It happened about six months later. They found a home for Lori, but the couple who adopted her didn’t want two children, especially one who was almost a teenager.”

“What was their name?”

“I don’t know. When I asked the social worker if I could call or send Lori a letter, I was told that it had been a closed adoption. Her new parents thought she would be better off starting fresh, forgetting the past.”

Forgetting me.

Molly’s eyes grew misty again, and she cursed the emotion that welled in her chest. She’d only wanted to relay the facts that would facilitate his investigation.

She’d never been a crybaby before, and for some dumb reason, it mattered what Rico thought of her.

Damn. Rico didn’t know what to think, what to do.

The story Molly had told him made him angry at her parents, angry at the system. And it pissed him off that he couldn’t think of anything to say or do to comfort her.

He’d always been uneasy when women cried, which was a big reason he never let any of his dates or lovers get close enough to lean on him.

Not that he couldn’t sympathize with people.

Hell, he’d had clients that he’d felt sorry for, like good-hearted husbands and wives who’d learned their “loving” spouses had been cheating on them. Or poor Mrs. Chisolm, the grieving widow who’d known nothing about her late husband’s business, then had been bilked by an unscrupulous employee she’d trusted.

But this was different. And it was too close to home.

He handed Molly the linen napkin that had been draped across his lap, hoping she’d wipe away the painful memories, as well as her tears.

“Thank you.” She took the cloth from him, then blotted her eyes and sniffled. “I’m sorry for falling apart.”

“You’re allowed.” He cleared his throat, wishing he could say something comforting, something witty. When nothing came to mind, he clamped his mouth shut.

“Lori is eighteen now,” Molly said. “And no one can stop us from being sisters again. So I need to find her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, but I don’t expect any favors.” She placed the napkin beside her water glass, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat up straight. “I’ll pay your fees.”

“We can talk about money later. I’ll do the initial investigation as a courtesy.”

She sniffled again, and he struggled with the urge to reach across the table and take her hand, to offer her more than a napkin.

Before either of them could speak, his cell phone rumbled.

“Excuse me.” He glanced at the screen, saw a local number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Honey, it’s me.”