Her Detective's Secret Intent

Why, if Chief O’Connor missed his family so much—and it was clear he did—and if he knew for sure that Miranda’s ex was dead—which he did—did he insist they wait longer before telling her?

Why postpone the reunion that would be so good for everyone?

Another thing was bugging him, too. The chief was known to have nerves of steel. A man who could think clearly under the most severe pressure.

And now for the second time he’d gone off on Tad. The day he’d called a day early, and then, much worse, when he was drinking. Yeah, they were dealing with an emotionally intense situation, but wasn’t that what he excelled at?

Granted, it was different when it was your own family. He of all people knew that.

But something felt off.

Could it be that Jeff Patrick was still alive? Maybe under an assumed identity? That idea was far-fetched. But Miranda wasn’t Miranda, either.

So what if this Patrick guy had somehow gotten to the chief? What if O’Connor was being blackmailed, forced to find his daughter? That could explain why he’d put Tad onto her without anyone’s knowing—and forcing him to remain silent now that he’d found her. Could also be why the chief was so adamant that Tad not do any checking that could lead anyone to California.

Had his original search already set things in motion? Did Jeff Patrick have a way of monitoring searches? Had he allowed the search with the understanding that when Tad found something O’Connor would turn it over?

Was O’Connor putting the guy off? Saying Tad hadn’t found anything?

Yeah, right. The state fire chief of North Carolina was going to sit back and let a criminal abuser blackmail him.

But the chief had to be protecting his daughter and grandson from something.

Maybe, just as he said, he was waiting for the right time, the right piece of information from Tad that would give him a way in with Miranda. That would soften her heart toward him.

Didn’t make sense to Tad. She might once have been under the control of a man who’d turned her against her father, but no one was brainwashing her now.

He couldn’t do any checking into Miranda or her past life, couldn’t risk leading anyone to her, but he could call a former colleague of his, using his burner phone, without saying where he was, and have her do a covert check on the chief for him. It would come from North Carolina. And had nothing to do with Miranda.

The idea had niggled at him all day Wednesday, and by Thursday, with no further invitation from Miranda, he made the call.

Gail Winton, a woman who’d been a partner of his on their force, knew him better than just about anyone. They’d had a brief, very brief, sexual encounter early on in their relationship. She was now married to an army veteran–turned–refuse company owner she adored. They had two young kids.

And had Tad over for dinner most holidays, too.

After getting up in his grill for not calling sooner, not letting her know he was okay, and after he’d assured her he was indeed following doctor’s orders, eating right, resting and doing all his workouts, he got to the point. She agreed to help him, no questions asked, warning that it might take a few days since he didn’t want anyone to know they were looking. She didn’t ask why he wanted the information, either. Didn’t know what information he might suspect she’d find. That was how they’d always worked. Let the facts speak for themselves, then come up with theories to further investigate.

“And, hey,” she said when he was about to ring off.

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re working on something. A year off, no way that could be good for you.”

She knew him too well.

Chapter 20

Someone was watching her. In line at the grocery store Thursday afternoon, Miranda had the distinct sensation of prickles on the back of her neck.

“Are you mad at me?” Ethan, at her side, looked up, his eyes wide behind those Clark Kent glasses.

“No, but I do want you to remember to tell me when you need something special for school.” Someone was definitely back there. In another line. Or down an aisle. Watching her. She’d seen the same gray baseball cap three times in two days, most recently over in the produce section.

“I thought we already had potatoes.”

“Usually we do.” And she was glad he’d volunteered to bring them. They were doing a group science project, putting potatoes in water to see the roots grow, and he was being an active participant.

“Jimmy hasta bring jars.” He looked around. “Maybe he and his mom are here, too. He didn’t tell her, either.”