not sure what to ask. Until you called, I didn’t even know he existed.”
“You and your sister weren’t close?”
Walker recalled a time when they had been. Beth had trailed him around adoringly, pleading to be allowed to play with him and his friends. He had tolerated his younger sister because no one knew better than he that they received little or no attention at home.
“She was a beautiful little girl,” he said, recalling her huge blue eyes and halo of strawberry blond curls that had later darkened to a golden hue. “She was always laughing. Then she got involved with Ryan Flanagan, and the laughter died.”
The social worker regarded him sympathetically. “How old was she?”
“Sixteen, still a girl, really, but we couldn’t stop her. My parents tried in a halfhearted way. I tried, but I was away at college and Beth was starved for attention. When Ryan asked her to run away with him, it was too much for her to resist, I guess. When our parents died, I couldn’t even locate her. I had to tell her about their deaths the next time she checked in, which was three or four months later, around the time she and Flanagan got married. She called to give me the big news.”
The anger and dismay he’d felt back then was still alive in him today. “I wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her, but it was too late.”
“Was that the last time you heard from her?”
“No, she called again after he’d abandoned her. She was all alone, scared and pregnant. I wired her some money and begged her to come home. I was married by then. I told her she could stay with us until she had her baby.” He shrugged. “She said she might not even have the baby, and she never did show up. And that was the last time I heard from her. She was somewhere outside of Las Vegas.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Jackson said. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
“It drove me nuts,” he said honestly. “Here I was, this big city cop with all sorts of investigative skills and a lot of high-tech resources at my disposal, and I couldn’t even find my own sister. Turned out she was a couple of hours away and I didn’t even know it.”
“You should know better than anyone that a person who wants to drop out of sight can pull it off if they’re clever enough. Maybe she was making her way back to you when she ended up here. Maybe she just wanted to be back on her feet by the time she saw you. She and Tommy had been here a few years. They were doing well. She worked a variety of jobs, since much of the work around here is seasonal. She cleaned houses from time to time, waited tables, helped out in several of the shops.”
“Why not just one job?”
For an instant Mrs. Jackson looked uneasy. “I suppose it’s of no consequence now, but she seemed to have this fear of getting ’caught up in the system,’ as she put it. Several people offered her full-time work, but when it came time to fill out the paperwork she balked.”
Walker uttered a curse. “That was Flanagan’s paranoia at work. No Social Security number, no taxes, nobody tracking his every move. The man liked living on the fringes of society, picking up odd jobs whenever he could, always for cash. I thought Beth was smarter than that.”
“I’m sure she was. In fact, she’d been offered work right here at the Inn, and I think she’d almost convinced herself to take it. Anna-Louise–she’s a minister here in town–said Beth had been talking a lot about taking that final step so she could get back in touch with her family. She must have been talking about you. It was the only clue we had that she had anyone in her life other than Tommy.”
“She didn’t have to prove anything to me,” he said, though he was relieved if she’d done all of that for her own sake. And for her son’s.
“Maybe she thought she did. I’m sure she knew she let you down.”
“That didn’t matter,” Walker insisted. “I just wanted my baby sister to be okay.” He looked at her. “And now she’s dead,” he said bitterly. “What kind of brother does that make me?”
“One who did the best he could, I suspect.”
He frowned at being let off the hook so easily. “No lectures?”
“Not my job,” she assured him. “We can’t change the past, much as we might like to. I prefer to deal with the here and now.”
“Meaning Tommy?” he guessed.
She nodded. “Meaning Tommy.” She slid a snapshot across the table. “I thought you might like to see this.”
Walker hesitated before picking it up. His hand shook as he lifted it off the table. He sucked in his breath as Beth’s blue eyes stared back at him. The boy had her crooked, mischievous grin, too.
“I’ll bet he’s a handful,” he said finally.
“Oh, he is,” Mrs. Jackson said fervently. “Not that it’s much of a surprise. A boy all alone in the world has to find some way to deal with the fear. He’s been better since he’s been living with Daisy.”
“Daisy?”
“Daisy Spencer. The Spencers were founders of Trinity Harbor–not Daisy, of course, but her ancestors. Her daddy, King, is still the most respected man in town. The richest, too, by all accounts, though my own father disputed that with his dying breath.”
“Bad blood between the Spencers and your family?”
“More like an unending rivalry. King Spencer is the kind of man who doesn’t like anybody challenging his supremacy.”
“Is his daughter the same way?”
“Not at all. Daisy is a wonderful person.”
“And she’s a foster parent?”
“Not usually, no.”
“How does her husband feel about this?”
“Daisy isn’t married.”
Walker was beginning to get a clear picture of the woman. A society do-gooder looking to gain a few more points.
“How exactly did Tommy end up with her?”
“She found him in her garage the other morning after he’d run away from another foster home. He’s been acting out a lot since Beth died…mostly mischief, but clearly cries for help.”
“And despite that, this Daisy just decided to let him stay?”
“Daisy is a remarkable woman, as I’m sure you’ll see. She knew your sister and Tommy from church. She never hesitated about taking him in.”
“Maybe we should leave things the way they are,” Walker said, trying not to flinch under Mrs. Jackson’s immediate frown of disapproval. “If Tommy’s been behaving since he moved in with her, maybe she’s just the person to keep him on the straight and narrow, to give him whatever he needs.”
“You would turn around and leave here without even seeing the boy?” she asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“It could be for the best,” he insisted.
“Perhaps so,” she agreed stiffly. “But I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that, Detective.”
“I’m just saying that this woman sounds like a good role model for Tommy.”
“You’re his uncle, ” she reminded him. “The only family he has left. You would deny him that sense of identity, that sense of connection, because it’s inconvenient?”
He could feel the heat climbing into his cheeks. “I didn’t say–”
“You didn’t have to. You’re a coward, Detective Ames.”
The blunt assessment hit its mark. What had ever made him think that he could get around this woman? She was one tough customer.