He’d actually been FBI for a time. Until his skills had been needed in so many other places. He’d been offered the high government clearance he’d needed to work where he was needed as a private crime scene investigator—even when it meant rebuilding a crime scene from old evidence.
“In the first place, I didn’t know about the previous injuries until last night. And in the second, Bruce has clout with Gram,” he told her, “and she insists he’s not hurting her.”
CHAPTER THREE
HARPER NEEDED TO sit down. To have a few minutes without Mason’s energy bouncing around the walls of her office.
But she had a job to do. That came first. And, at the moment, he was it.
“I’m just getting up to speed on this,” she said now, needing to be done with personal conversation. She’d left the Thomas family. Other than accommodating Bruce’s visitations requests, she couldn’t allow herself to go back.
Brianna. She stared at Mason.
“You don’t think he… I mean, if you really think Bruce did this…” She shook her head. “There’s no way he could have.”
Now she sounded like any number of their residents. Her career was in the domestic violence field. She was fully versed on abusers’ needs to control their victims, and also understood abusers having the ability to mentally and emotionally control their victims even after their ability to do so physically had been contained.
“Up until a month ago, Brianna was in that house every other weekend.”
Thinking of the little blond burst of energy who took up every single nonworking moment of her life, Harper panicked. What if…
No! She would’ve known. Bruce had never, ever shown any sign of physical aggression with their daughter. He…
She glanced at Mason. “He doesn’t even spank her,” she said.
“Has she ever shown any indication of distress when you get her back? Any falls or bruises or other injuries?”
“No, of course not!” She was a cop, for heaven’s sake! Employed at a women’s shelter. She knew what to look for. And even if she hadn’t… She’d protect Brianna with her life.
Her baby girl was her life.
“How about emotionally? Is she more clingy? Does she have nightmares? Does she ever resist going back there? Or say she doesn’t want to see her dad?”
She shook her head, but stopped to think, hard, in case she was missing something. Looking back over almost four years of visits… “She was only three months old when we got divorced.”
Now was not the time to go into all of that.
“But…” She turned to Mason, still traveling back in her memory. “I mean, it’s not like I can remember every single time I’ve picked her up, but she’s always happy to see me, then hugs him goodbye, gives him her special daddy kiss on the cheek and tells him she’ll see him later.”
“What about when she misbehaves? Does she talk about him punishing her?”
“She doesn’t really get into trouble.”
He rolled his eyes and she shrugged. “I know, I know, the proud parent, right? But she doesn’t, Mason. She’s like this adult walking around in a little body. She tells you she wants to do something and you tell her no, and she looks at you and asks why. If you give her a valid reason, she says okay. I’m not exaggerating.”
“Every kid has tantrums now and then.”
“Yeah, she used to hold her breath until she passed out when she wanted to get her way. Back during the terrible twos.” She grinned.
He looked horrified. “I’d say that’s misbehaving! What did you do?”
“Panicked the first time. Then I called her pediatrician. He told me to let her pass out. He said she’d start breathing again and if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, she’d soon learn that it accomplished nothing.”
“Was he right?”
“She did it once more after that and never again.”
His grin tripped up her insides.
“I’m not saying she doesn’t get in bad moods, or get mouthy now and then. I’m just saying that if you reason with her, she almost always responds positively. Once she was pretty rough when she was playing with a dollhouse my mom and dad made for her. She wrecked it, and I was furious with her, of course. I told her that what she’d done was wrong. She looked at me and said, ‘I know.’”