Her Detective's Secret Intent

No.

She stopped that thought, too. She was not going to let paranoia take over again. She’d won that battle. Wasn’t going to let fear and suspicion get close enough to have to fight them again.

At least not if she could see it coming.

Since returning to the table, Tad had contributed nothing to their conversation. If she wasn’t still humming inside from his admission that he was attracted to her, preceded by an apology for “crossing a line,” and followed by his backhanded admission that he wanted to ask her out, she might be able to convince herself that they had nothing to talk about.

That she’d been worried for nothing.

“I told Ethan we can be friends, the three of us, you and me, you and him, but that we can’t need each other for things. Or rely on each other,” she said in a rush.

Half hoping he’d miss the “you and me” part of that. And yet fearing he would.

“I’d like to be friends.” He rested both arms on the table again, and she could hardly comprehend how relieved she felt. Almost giddy with it. Like she had to laugh out loud. And maybe cry a little, too.

“All three of us, me and Ethan and you and me,” he added.

And she started to tremble.

Chapter 7

In the spirit of friendship, with a phone call to North Carolina lurking in his very near future, Tad asked Miranda how her weekend had gone.

He knew she’d gotten the training wheels off Ethan’s bike. The boy had been riding like a pro when Tad had checked on them later that afternoon. He’d found a place around the corner from them where he could park and still see their house between the other houses. And when he drove down the street behind them, he could keep tabs, too.

At first, watching them had felt good. Righteous. He was keeping them safe. But the more he got to know them, the less great he felt. The cause was important.

Still, did the end always justify the means?

The sixty-four-million-dollar question of his life these days.

The question Internal Affairs was pondering on his behalf.

“Ethan kept asking me to call you on Sunday.” She’d been talking about a movie she and her son had seen and that Ethan had wanted him to see, too. With them.

“You should have.”

“I’m sure you have things to do.”

The things he was being paid to do were much easier when he was spending time with her.

“I do a lot of sitting around,” he told her. “In meetings, in my car... I’m finding I’m not all that good at it.”

“You want to be out saving the world,” she said. He noticed a difference in her tone. Not necessarily negative, but...different. Aware.

And he figured he understood why. “You know someone like that?” he asked.

Her father.

The man, a true hero, must have been an incredible parent. Growing up with someone who was willing to take risks over and over again, to fight the hard fights selflessly, must have been remarkable. Such an inspiration. With Tad’s father’s defection from their family when Tad was just a baby, Tad had been the man in his family his whole life. He’d been all his mom and older sister had for protection.

And he’d failed them.

Just as Miranda’s husband had failed her.

“Not personally, I don’t,” Miranda said, with no hint of subterfuge. “But since you were hurt on the job, I’m guessing you didn’t make your living sitting at a desk. I imagine that for someone like you, who usually works in dangerous situations, it would be difficult to have, as the highlight of your day, driving around checking up on a little boy.”

Her blue eyes were filled with warmth, and they directed her nurturing to him; he sucked it in like a man dying of thirst.