She didn’t say anything.
After a minute, MacLachlan released a sound that might have been a sigh. “I have two younger brothers who got in trouble with the law as juveniles. Tito reminded me of them. I thought I could make a difference for him.”
The gruff, unemotional voice was completely at odds with what he’d said. With his actions. Given all the pressure of his job, he had still somehow found time to spend with a troubled twelve-year-old boy.
Unless, of course… He was unmarried.
Her eyes must have narrowed. His facial muscles tightened. “No, Ms. Brooks, I am not sexually attracted to boys. Or men, for that matter.”
Oh, man. Now her face had to be flaming red. It didn’t even occur to her to deny that the possibility had crossed her mind.
“I’m sorry…”
He shook his head. “I’d think you were naive if it hadn’t occurred to you. If you’ve been at this long, you’ve seen enough horrors that you should wonder,” he said, with surprising gentleness.
“It does alter the way you look at people.”
“Try my job,” he said dryly.
“I can imagine.” She hesitated. “I suppose that’s why I was so surprised that you were making time for Tito.”
“I’ve made more than I intended.” MacLachlan was quiet for a moment. “I’ve had a good time with him.”
“What do the two of you do?”
He shrugged. “Sports. Shoot some hoops, kick around a soccer ball. I feed him. I’ve eaten more pizza and cheeseburgers since I met Tito than I’d had in months.” He sounded rueful. “He’s so damn scrawny, I keep feeling compelled to try to fatten him up.”
“His sister is petite.”
“Yeah, the dad is short and the mother even shorter from what he says. I think some of the kids give him a hard time. PE has been tough for him.”
“His grades aren’t very good.” Jane shuffled through her folder and found the most recent report card, which she handed to the captain. Their fingers touched, and it took determination for her not to react. Dumb.
He glanced at it, grimaced, then tossed it on the coffee table. So their hands wouldn’t brush again? Jane picked it up and inserted it in the folder.
“He’s a good kid,” he said finally.
“Despite his nocturnal activities.”
“According to him, his one-and-only adventure.” A quick grin did amazing things to his face. “I scared the crap out of him.”
Heart drumming, she thought, you scare me, too.
Unclipping the pen from her folder, she held it poised above the notepad. “Please give me your impressions of Tito.”
“I won’t betray his confidences.”
Their gazes clashed.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Although reluctant, he did talk. There were no great revelations here; if he was to be believed, Tito was a funny, smart boy who sometimes acted younger than his age as well as looked it.
“Hasn’t reached puberty,” she diagnosed.
MacLachlan nodded. “Definitely not. No sign of beard growth or a change in his voice. He sure isn’t adding any muscle.”
“I suppose puberty is as hard for boys as it is for girls.”
“It can be.” There was that faint, rueful tone again, the one that made him unexpectedly likable. “Not for the guy who is shaving by the time he’s in eighth grade and has all the moves on the girls. He’s not the one hoping no one notices him when he sneaks in and out of the shower after gym, or the one who’s trailing the pack on cross-country runs. The one shorter than all the girls.”
She chuckled. “That sounds personal.”
“No. It was my youngest brother. I suspect his lagging maturity contributed to him getting in trouble.”
“Trying to prove himself.”
He inclined his head. “The same way Tito was.”
“Did you tell him about your brother?”
MacLachlan shook his head. “We’re men. Men don’t talk about our bodies or how deep our voices are.”
She had to laugh. “Unless you’re taunting each other.”
Another flash of a grin came and went so fast she almost missed it. “Yeah. Unless.”
She bent her head and, in self-defense, concentrated quite hard on her notes. “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Captain MacLachlan?”
“Duncan.”
She looked up in surprise. “What?”
“You can call me Duncan.”
“Oh.” The name did suit him, sounding as gruff as the man. “Duncan.”
“What’s the next step?” he asked.
“I interview teachers, any of his other siblings, any other adults. Scout leaders, Boys & Girls Club employees and the like.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think he’s involved in anything like that. My impression is, he’s been forced to be a loner. His sister is too busy to push him into activities that might change that.”
“Perhaps their priest…”
“She does drag him to church.”
“Of course I’ll be sitting down with his father. And, naturally, Tito himself.” She hesitated. Maybe she didn’t have to say this, but she felt compelled, anyway. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss my visit with him. Or attempt to prejudice him in any way.”
“You mean, suggest he might be better living with someone besides his ex-con father.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
His face had returned to its earlier granite facade. “I think I can manage to keep my mouth shut, Ms. Brooks. Is the hearing date set?”
“Yes.” She told him when.
He nodded and rose to his feet. “If that’s all…?”
It was completely ridiculous to feel hurt because he was eager to get rid of her. Especially since she was relieved at the prospect of escape, too.
“Thank you for the coffee,” she said formally, although she’d scarcely taken a sip.
He didn’t bother with an insincere “You’re welcome.” All he did was walk her to the front door, say, “Ms. Brooks” and close the door firmly in her face.
Cheeks flushed again, this time with both humiliation and aggravation, Jane hurried to her car. Jerk, she thought, and refused to let herself remember those two astonishing grins.
WHEN SOMEONE HE DIDN’T KNOW wanted to talk to him like this, Tito knew it meant something bad was happening. After Mama went away and then Papa was arrested, lots of social workers came to talk to Tito and Lupe. Mostly they ignored Tito, though, even when they were supposedly asking him questions. He could tell that, in their eyes, he was only a little kid, so they didn’t care what he said.
This time it was because Papa would be getting out of that place soon. Tito knew his father thought Tito would be living with him. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Three years was a long time. He’d been so young the last time he lived with his father. He hated going down there, to the prison. Tito hadn’t admitted to Lupe how much he hated it. He always slumped in the chair and mumbled when Papa asked