Her Detective's Secret Intent

They ate out on the back patio. After finishing his chocolate chip bar with ice cream, a treat for when the dishes were done, Ethan asked if he could go in and watch a movie, naming a popular kid’s flick that had just come on the streaming service. Miranda let him go.

Tad had never been so glad to have a boy want to watch television.

He couldn’t touch Miranda. Couldn’t kiss her. But...

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to hold you right now?” he asked.

“Maybe about as badly as I want you to?” She smiled, but her lips were trembling.

He got it. He was dying, too.

And had a job to do so he could get them out of this misery and into the next part of wherever, whatever they’d be.

“You’re incredible, you know?” he said, just because he wanted to talk about her, them, nothing else.

“I’m just me. Don’t see more than what’s there.” She’d brought ice water to go with their dessert and took a sip of hers, then set her glass down next to Ethan’s empty milk cup.

“I’m seeing what’s there. You’re both mother and father to your son, doing a remarkable job of raising a well-adjusted kid.”

Her shrug seemed to be one of discomfort more than anything else, and he was acutely reminded that she was a woman forced to keep secrets. Trying to make her feel cherished, he was, instead, doing the opposite.

He asked her about her mom, about life before she was eleven. And spent the

next half hour hearing wonderful things about a woman who’d clearly had spunk. Loved adventure. And her daughter.

“She never said anything to you about your father?”

“No. But I was only eleven when she died.” She glanced toward the house, toward Ethan, for the first time in a while. He could see the boy. They could hear the television. But for some reason, mention of her father had her turning around.

The chief was right; Tad knew how to read nuances. He just wasn’t sure what this particular one meant.

That she missed her father? That she hated seeing Ethan miss out on knowing him? And vice versa?

Probably blaming herself, he surmised, based on all of the literature he’d been reading.

“Have you ever tried to find out who he was?” he asked.

“No. Why would I? Clearly he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Her lack of emotion struck him as odd. She didn’t sound bitter, and she might have, given the circumstances as he knew them. If she was angry with her real father, some hint of that should come out in her talking about her fake father.

Unless she wasn’t angry?

“Having no father isn’t an issue for me.” Again, her response seemed odd. As if she truly didn’t care.

But she had to, didn’t she? A young woman who’d lost her mother, been raised by a doting, heroic father—one who was beside himself with missing her? Who’d do anything to protect her and see her happy, even deny himself her presence? Growing old all alone.

Was she that good at hiding her feelings? Studying her, Tad felt off the mark for the first time since he’d met her. Unable to tune in. As though she was a complete stranger. Closed to him.

“What about for Ethan’s sake?” He pushed where he would otherwise have dropped that line of questioning. He’d given the chief his word.

Her shrug, the expression on her face, held some regret. He paid eager attention. And then she said, “I hate that my son doesn’t know his own father because he was such a great guy. Other than that, no. Our society gives us the idea that you need two parents to grow up happy and well-rounded, but I truly think that what it takes is unconditional love, continuity and security. That’s why I won’t let you stay here when Ethan’s home. I won’t let him grow up with a confusing message caused by different men staying in his home and then leaving. With different authority figures.”

If they hadn’t already established that he was only there for a period of time, he’d have been hit hard by that one. As though he was just one of a number. She’d put it right out there without her usual compassion. It wasn’t like her to be harsh.

And then he understood. She was being practical, with her emotions shut off, because she had to be. How else could she have faced leaving her father? She’d had to ignore the demands of her heart when she left that life. It was the only thing that made sense.

It wasn’t much to give the chief, but he was done fulfilling that request.