Without missing a beat, Helen folded her hands and offered a simple prayer of thanksgiving. He folded his too, out of respect and because he was trying to raise them the way Fiona would have. He was trying to feel the surge of gratitude over the ever-present hum of stress and anger. “Thank you, Lord,” he echoed. “For bringing me here so I can find justice for my sister.”
He set to work cutting off a piece of the pancake, which was decorated with strawberry eyes and a banana slice mouth, and sticking it on the fork which he handed to Lucy. He was about to slide over and help Laurel, but Helen had gotten to it first. After slicing the pancake into neat bites, she poured a little puddle of syrup on the plate next to the pancake so Laurel could dip it in. He’d never thought of that. Instead he typically doused the goo over the whole pancake and cleaned up the sticky results later.
Helen poured coffee for the grown ups.
Sergio was pleased to note out of the corner of his eye that Lucy was eating with gusto.
“She’s got some developmental delays,” Sergio murmured quietly to Helen while the child remained absorbed in moving the pancake around her plate and Laurel chattered on. “I’m not exactly sure what all that means except things come more slowly to her and she isn’t growing as fast as her sister.”
Helen listened, sipping. They fell into an awkward silence.
“I called Chief Farraday,” she said while the children were piling in bites of pancake and giggling at Jingles.
“I did also. Left a message.”
“I told Mitch and Chad about it too.”
Sergio drummed fingers on the table. “I’ve been thinking about the investigation all those years ago, Gavin and Justin were suspects for good reason.”
Helen wiped her mouth. “I can’t make myself believe either could do that to Trish.”
“Maybe you can’t see the bad in anyone.”
Her look sharpened. “You sound like Liam. What you mean to say is I’m naive.”
He didn’t answer.
Helen cut another part of the pancake for Laurel and moved her glass of milk within reach. So smooth and natural. It had taken him dozens of spill cleanups to learn that toddlers couldn’t reach too far without disaster. He didn’t think she’d learned all these tricks from parenting magazines.
“I know you won’t believe me, but my brother and I grew up fast—we had to. I’m more savvy about the evil in the world than you think. How could I not be after what happened to us in high school and later on to...” She broke off.
“Fiona,” he finished quietly.
Helen pressed her lips in a firm line, but not until he’d seen the tremble there. For the first time, he imagined what it must have been like for her to be so close to two murders, and the initial one at such a tender age. Her phone buzzed, and she checked her text, her green eyes clouding. “Chief Farraday just arrived. He’s waiting in the lobby for me. My desk clerk says he looks furious.”
Sergio stood. “I’ll ask Betty to watch the girls, and I’ll come with you.”
“I can handle it, Sergio. One thing I’m good at is managing lodge business.”
“I’m sure you are, but I don’t think this is exactly routine.”
Her tone was chilly. “I’d rather you didn’t. Like you said, you don’t want me in your investigation, so I’ll take care of this part myself and tell Farraday to direct all his questions to you. And, there’s something you should probably know about a couple of the guests—”
He cut her off. “I won’t make a scene and disturb the sacred ambiance of your lodge.”
Her expression hardened, whatever she’d been about to tell him locked inside. “Yes, I love this lodge, Sergio. I won’t deny that, and I love Gus and Ginny for trusting me to run it. They could have hired anyone, people with way more experience but they had faith in me and I work every day to make them proud. I’m not ashamed of that, but believe me...” Earnest grief edged into her tone now. “If I could go back in time, I would choose your sister over my duties in a heartbeat. I let her down...” Her pained gaze shifted to the children. “And I let them down.” Anguish flashed as she dragged her eyes to his. “Does that make you feel better to hear me say it again?”
“No,” he said, surprised that it was true. “Actually, it doesn’t.”
They both stood now, emotion crackling between them, the girls talking on, oblivious. The awkwardness stretched until she turned away.
“I will talk to the chief. I’m sure he’ll want to have a word with you too, at some point,” she said.
Sergio gave her a head start before he called for Betty and kissed each little girl on the top of her head. “No time like the present,” he said. Besides, maybe it’s the perfect time to poke the bear. He hoped it wouldn’t make Helen’s life harder, but he couldn’t concern himself with that. Not now. It was his investigation, after all, if he could only convince her of that.
Helen strode into the lodge, where people were milling. Her clerks were doing their usual efficient jobs ushering the overnight guests and those visiting for the cattlemen’s presentations into the spacious back area reserved for conferences and large events. She plucked a fallen napkin off the gleaming hardwood floor and discarded it. The lobby was perfect down to the last detail—the only way she’d allow it to be.
Farraday wasted no time, coming at her like a rocket closing in on a target. She moved away to a quiet corner where he started in.
“What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed? I told you to stay out of those tunnels.”
“We weren’t in the tunnels,” she said firmly, “and we aren’t the lawbreakers here.”
“Your boy Kyle is,” Sergio said as he joined them. Helen did her best to hide her annoyance.
Farraday’s eyes slitted. “He’s not ‘my boy.’ His name’s Kyle Burnette. He’s called me a few times to tell me when blockheads were out getting into the tunnels, and I’ve thanked him for that.”
“Thanked him or paid him?” Sergio said.
“You’re out of line,” Farraday said. “He’ll be cited for shooting at you.”
“He should be arrested,” Helen said calmly.
“He meant no harm.”
Sergio was electric with irritation. “And what’s his interest in the tunnels?”
Farraday blinked. “Just a good citizen.”
“Uh-huh, and I’m the king of England,” Sergio said.
A stream of people meandered past on their way to the conference room. Two men lingered close, one tall and dark, with thinning close-cut hair, gelled into a sheen, the other blond and shorter with a compact build. Helen’s heart skidded.
Farraday eyed their approach as did Sergio who slid a look at Helen.
“These two are staying here at the lodge?” the chief asked.
She nodded. “They are both attending the cattlemen’s convention.” She took a deep breath. “Sergio, this is Gavin Cutter,” she said, gesturing to the taller one, “and Justin Dover.”
She saw the shock ripple over Sergio’s face. He stared at Helen and she read the incredulity in his expression. He rubbed a hand over his chin, probably searching for composure.
Two prime suspects in Trish O’Brian’s murder were indeed staying at the lodge. Part of her felt justified at his discomfort. She would have told