said bluntly, “He probably would have, if there’d been any other options at all.”
Her fingers flexed into fists, then relaxed. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Can you keep her home from school?”
“I have my teaching certificate. I can home-school the boys, but I’m not certified for secondary education.” She looked past him toward the mannequin. He could tell she was thinking. “I don’t actually think she’ll be a problem. Sorrel came to me only a month ago. She hasn’t made friends yet. She claims no one will even talk to her.”
He remembered middle school and high school all too well. “All the more reason for her to be delighted by an attention-grabbing story.”
Frustration showed on her face. “What do you suggest?”
“I’ll talk to her.” Seeing the way her expression changed, he corrected himself. “We’ll talk to her.”
“All right.” She looked from him to Henderson and back. “Is there anything else you need from me right now?”
“Maybe a key to the front door? Although we won’t be coming and going much. We don’t want to draw any attention.”
“I have extra keys.”
“You didn’t answer my question about visitors.”
Annoyance flared in her eyes again. “I gather I’m supposed to curtail all social life.”
“It would be helpful if you could conduct your social life elsewhere.” He was going for law enforcement formal, but had a bad feeling he was coming off sounding like an ass instead.
Yep. Her expression morphed into active dislike. “Consider it done.” With that, she turned and left them alone in the attic.
“Way to get the lady on our side,” Henderson remarked mildly.
Conall gave him a cold look and said, “Let’s get the rest of our crap.”
* * *
DUNCAN MACLACHLAN sat behind his desk and tried to concentrate on the document open on his computer. The Vehicle Impoundment and Inventory Procedure did not qualify as riveting reading, but he’d made it his mission to review and potentially revise all the department procedures and policies, from Field Training to Case Tracking. None had been reworked in at least ten years, and police work had changed, if only because of technological and scientific advances.
He kept thinking that if he hung on for another hour, he could take an early lunch with Jane and Fiona. He’d promised to bring takeout from the Snow Goose Deli to Jane’s store, Dance Dreams. Owning her own business meant his wife could take their now five-and-a-half-month-old daughter to work with her. They wouldn’t have to think about looking into preschools for at least another year.
Duncan realized he was smiling fatuously at the framed photo of his wife and daughter that sat on his desk. There were times he still didn’t understand how it had happened to him—falling in love, getting married, starting a family. He’d never intended to do any of those things. And here he was, still crazy about his wife, and head over heels in love with their daughter, a cherub with her uncle Niall’s red hair.
Damn, he thought, and focused his eyes again on the computer monitor.
When an officer impounds a vehicle, the officer shall complete the Vehicle Impound Report indicating the reason for impoundment in the narrative portion at the bottom of the form.
Did they absolutely have to use the word impound three times in one sentence?
Clarity, he reminded himself, was the goal, not elegant writing.
His phone rang, and feeling embarrassingly grateful for the interruption he grabbed it.
“MacLachlan.”
His administrative assistant cleared his throat. “Chief, you have a caller who says his name is, er, MacLachlan. Conall.”
Duncan’s youngest brother hadn’t spoken to him in over ten years. And he was calling now?
“Put him through,” he said brusquely. What could have happened that would have motivated his angry brother to be willing to talk to him? When he heard the click of the call being transferred, he said, “Conall, is it really you?”
“Yeah, it’s really me.” Startlingly, his voice hadn’t changed at all. It sounded a lot like Niall’s, maybe a little huskier.
“Damn.”
“That’s friendly.”
“You’ve caught me by surprise.”
“Yeah, I imagine I have.” There was a momentary pause. “I’m actually calling on official business. Believe it or not, I’m here in Stimson pursuing an investigation. I’m going to be conducting a surveillance within your city limits.”
Duncan stiffened. “Are you.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“If I had a warrant, I’d go in and toss the place. What I have is permission from a home-owner to use her premises to watch her neighbor’s house until we see something interesting enough to justify that warrant.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
“I don’t know,” his brother said. “I got pulled in late. I’ve been working out of the Miami Division.”
“So Niall said.”
“I’m currently on loan to Seattle. They’ve got something big going and needed extra manpower.”
“Are you already here?” he asked.
“Yeah. Flew into Seattle last night.”
“Does Niall know?”
“He’s next on my list. I figured I owed you a courtesy call first.”
Because he was police chief, not because they were brothers. That stung, although it shouldn’t have after years of estrangement.
“All right,” Duncan said. “Do you plan to come by the office to give me the details?”
“I’d rather not. I’m trying to fly below the radar.” Conall was quiet for a moment. “I’m hoping we can meet somewhere that looks unofficial.”
“You can come by the house.” The words were out before he could recall them. “You know I’m not in the old place.”
“I did know that. You sent me a check for part of the proceeds when you sold it.”
He had. Duncan had insisted on splitting what he made on their parents’ house, little though it was after the mortgage was paid out. Still, it was the closest thing any of them had to an inheritance from their worthless parents.
“You can meet my wife.”
“I meant to come to Niall’s wedding.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
This silence was a long one, and heavy with everything that hadn’t been said in the past decade. Or perhaps that was in his imagination.
“I was wounded,” Conall said finally.
Duncan’s reaction was visceral. It had been his greatest fear that one of these days he’d get a call from some higher-up at the DEA letting him know that they were very sorry, but his brother Conall had been killed in the line of duty. Niall was the one who talked to Conall from time to time, and he’d admitted he sometimes thought their youngest brother had a death wish. At the very least, he was a cold-blooded son of a bitch who lived for the adrenaline rush risk-taking gave him. Duncan wondered how much else he was capable of feeling.
If that wasn’t a chilling thought.
“You