If Jonah ever…
No. Can’t go there. Can’t even let the thought creep into my head.
Never, little dove. Never will you be unhappy or hurt. Not as long as I am your mother.
I couldn’t bear the thought.
Whatever Jonah needed, I would provide.
Whatever he needed.
The deli owner’s daughter left the pretty woman holding the baby and walked up a short flight of stairs to a cluster of three bedrooms. She knew which one to enter. On the top shelf of the closet sat a sewing kit. She didn’t question why it was there. She simply grabbed it and brought it over to the bed.
Then she went to the desk. To the right of the green blotter sat a cube of light-blue notepaper. She removed the top piece, pulled a pen from the tin can covered in contact paper, and swiftly wrote down the three names given to her by the woman she’d talked to on the phone recently. She folded the paper in half and then in half again before she returned to the bed where the sewing kit sat next to a very old and well-loved stuffed dog.
The deli owner’s daughter picked up the dog. She’d seen the toy before, many times. On the underside of its belly was a seam. She grabbed the seam ripper from the sewing box and carefully opened the seam, as methodically as if she were using a scalpel to perform surgery. She parted the two sides of fabric and shoved the piece of paper inside with the others. Then she threaded a needle with light-brown thread to match the stuffed dog’s fur. Again, methodically, she sewed the two sides of fabric back together with short, even stitches. After knotting the thread, she admired her work.
Perfect. No one could tell the seam had been opened.
This is where she hid her innermost thoughts—things only she knew. Things she protected Daphne from. If she didn’t protect Daphne, both of their lives would be over.
The deli owner’s daughter had a friend. He was called the scary guy. He was tattooed and fearless, and he seemed to appear whenever he perceived a threat. The deli owner’s daughter was the logic, and the scary guy was the muscle. There were others, but they didn’t come around nearly as often. The deli owner’s daughter was capable of handling most things, sometimes with the scary guy’s help.
Pull. Slice. Wrap. Hand to customer and smile. “What else can I get for you today?”
Mission accomplished.
Chapter Nine
Brad
“I’m here to see Jonathan Wade.”
“This is his lunch hour, sir.” The receptionist smiled flirtatiously.
I returned her smile. I wasn’t above using my good looks to get what I wanted. It certainly wasn’t the first time. “I’ll wait then. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“He’s actually here now. He brought his lunch today, and he’s eating in his office.”
“Perfect. Just direct me to his office, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“I can’t let you disturb him during lunch.”
“I’m sorry. Did I mention who I was?”
“No.”
“I’m Brad Steel.” I forced my grin wider. “His son-in-law.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I’m sure it’s okay, then. Down that hallway, second door on the right.”
“Thank you, Liz,” I said, eyeing the nameplate on her desk.
I followed Liz’s directions until I was standing in front of Jonathan’s closed door. I raised my hand to knock but then thought better of it and simply turned the doorknob and barged in.
For a second, I wondered what I might walk in on.
Jonathan Wade isn’t who you think he is, son. Be careful.
I could be walking in on anything.
So I was mildly surprised when I saw him sitting at his desk eating lunch, just as Liz had said.
He stopped chewing, his eyes wide.
“Good afternoon, Jonathan.”
He swallowed with an audible gulp. “Brad. What are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business.” Not a lie. Daphne was my business.
“I see. It was nice to stop by to say hello. I’d ask you to join me, but Lucy only packed enough for one, and I’m almost done.”
“Good. Then I’m not interrupting your lunch.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your meetings.”
“I came to town to talk to you, Jonathan.”
“You said business.”
“I did. It’s personal business.”
Jonathan took a drink from his bottle of soda. “Okay. Are Daphne and the baby all right?”
“Jonah is fine. He’s the picture of health, off the charts for both height and weight.”
He cleared his throat. “And Daphne?”
“She’s in therapy, Jonathan.”
He nodded. “I think that’s good for her.”
“I agree. But I found out some things that are concerning.”
He wrinkled his forehead. If my old man were here, he’d know right away whether Jonathan was feigning concern or whether he truly was worried. I hadn’t quite mastered reading people yet. It was something I needed to perfect.
“What things?” he asked.
“Her therapist requested her records from her hospitalization.”
“He did? She was a minor. Those records should be sealed.”