The kitchen is at the back and I head in that direction, thinking I'll make a carafe of coffee, then take my laptop and go work on the rooftop terrace. I hear the radio, and assume that Ellen, my housekeeper, is working in there despite it being her day off. But when I get there, it's not her trim figure I see at the table by the garden window but a slender man with salt-and-pepper hair.
"Colin?"
He puts down the newspaper and smiles at me, a broad smile that I know has the potential to not only make deals happen, but to get him in trouble.
"I know I say it every time, but I still wish you'd call me Dad."
I pause at the refrigerator on my way to him and top off my water bottle. "I used to." I keep my voice light and teasing, but every word is serious. "You blew it. And I have another dad now."
"I'm still your birth father, little girl."
I sigh and drop into the seat across from him. I've gone from adoring this man to being scared of him to needing him to actually respecting him. He's done a pretty stellar job of pulling himself out of the quagmire of indictments and felonies, bad choices and debt. At least I thought he had until Mom mentioned this new IRS investigation.
Most of all, he was there for me after the kidnapping when I really needed to just get away.
"You are," I say begrudgingly. "But let's not get into it. I'm not in the mood to play the game where we examine how completely screwed up my family tree is. And for the record, I'm not going to ask why IRS agents are calling Mom about you."
He waves
a hand. "Routine," he says. "I promise. I'm on their radar now. That's all. Don't you worry about me."
"I'm not. I've got plenty to worry about without adding you to the mix."
"I'm sorry, kiddo. Of course you do." He leans back in his chair and takes a long sip of his coffee. "You went and saw him? After you talked to me?"
Him, of course, is Dallas.
"Well, yeah. He had a right to know that WORR has Ortega in custody. Just like you did."
"And you're okay?"
I take a sip of my water. " 'Okay' is a relative term."
"I know it's hard seeing him. You two went through something no one should have to, and those memories will haunt you. Being near him makes it worse, but being away is like abandoning a friend. Am I right?"
I nod. Of course he's right.
His mouth curves into a sad smile. "I still remember the day you gave him your stuffed rabbit. What was he called?"
"Mr. Fluffles." I smile, too. "I wonder what happened to him."
"You can talk to Adele if you need to," he continues, shifting back to our original topic. "We might be divorced, but we're still close. She's an excellent therapist, and it's a short train ride to Westchester. There's no shame if this news about Ortega has sideswiped you."
"It has. But I don't need to talk to Adele. And honestly, it would be too weird."
Maybe legally she's no relation anymore, but from a pragmatic standpoint, the woman was my stepmother. I just can't go there.
"Well, the offer is always open. And, sweetheart, don't get your hopes up."
I frown. "Don't get my hopes up? All I have left is hope." God, I want to wallow in hope, but here Colin is telling me to hold back, and there Dallas was, pissed that it was Bill who caught the bad guy instead of some anonymous federal agent.
"I don't mean it like that." He's been calm through this conversation but now he looks a little flustered, like he's afraid of upsetting me. Frankly, it's probably a legitimate fear.
He starts again. "I'm just saying that while it really is an incredible thing that Ortega is in custody, it's been seventeen years. Even if he does have solid information for the authorities, it might not lead anywhere. You have to come to terms with the fact that you may never know who did that to you and your brother."
For a moment I think he's going to say something else, but all he does is swallow the rest of his coffee and then stand. He heads to the coffeemaker and reaches for the carafe, but he doesn't pour.
"Colin? What is it?"