Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)
“Since when were you ever logical?” he said with a bit of a smile.
“I don’t know, maybe since I finally decided to grow up.” She found a rubber band on the windowsill, bent over and pushed her hair into a ponytail. Straightening, she stared out the window. She’d fed the dogs, made sure they were secure, then seen to the horses before calling her brother. Now dusk was encroaching, casting long shadows across the parking lot and outbuildings, though the temperature refused to drop. “You’re a PI. I figured you could look into it.”
Aaron took another swallow from his beer and, looking over his shoulder, followed her gaze. Hitching his chin toward the garage and Nate Santana’s darkened apartment, he asked, “Santana’s not around?”
“No.”
“Convenient, don’t you think?”
“Coincidence.” She bristled and wondered, not for the first time since calling Aaron’s cell phone, if calling him had been a mistake. Truth to tell, that’s why she’d put it off. She didn’t want to rely on any of her brothers, didn’t want to appear unable to handle her own problems, didn’t need their meddling. So she’d waited, then decided she needed Aaron’s expertise and now, of course, she was second-guessing herself all over the place.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ‘coincidence.’”
“I don’t.”
“But you don’t find it strange that the first time Santana’s gone for a few days, this kind of thing happens?” He hooked a thumb toward the plastic-encased scrap of paper lying near the ceramic dogs on the table. “I figured the two of you were close.”
“We’re partners, that’s it.”
“He moving up to the new place with you?”
“I don’t know, but not into the house.” She sighed and threw her brother a don’t-start-with-that-again glare. “It’s not like that between Nate and me, not that it’s any of your business.”
“It is now.”
“Okay. Right. But Nate and I are just business partners. We’re not lovers, okay? If that’s what you’re hinting at. As for him moving, I don’t know yet. We’re still talking.”
Aaron grunted, possibly to imply that he didn’t believe her, but didn’t voice it. Good. His eyes were more sober than ever as he asked, “You ever contacted your kid?”
“What?” she asked, startled.
“The baby you gave up, the one that just had the birthday, have you ever contacted her?”
“No! I mean, I don’t even know where she is.”
At that thought she felt the same painful pang she always did when she remembered giving away her only child, never seeing her baby after that one brief glimpse of the infant in the hospital. Coupled with that dull ache was the sear of guilt for not being strong enough to raise her child alone. No matter how many times she’d told herself she’d done the right thing, that the little girl was far better off with loving parents who desperately wanted a child, the doubts still stole into her thoughts, into her dreams…Sudden, hot, unwanted tears touched the back of her eyelids.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was a rasp. “I’ve thought about it. God, I’ve wanted to. But, no, I haven’t even tried. Haven’t put my name on one of those Internet lists or filed with the agencies that help adoptees find their birth parents.”
“But you’ve thought about it?”
She nodded.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I figured I might do it in a few years, when she’s an adult.”
Aaron rubbed his chin. “What about Giles?”
“Brendan?” she repeated, even though she’d anticipated that her ex-boyfriend, the father of her baby, would be brought up.
“Yeah. You heard from him?”
“No…Never.”
Aaron’s forehead furrowed as if he doubted her. The dog, realizing there was no treat in store, stood and stretched as he yawned, his black lips pulled back to show his teeth.
“Never,” she repeated, the old wounds opening and raw. She saw a speck of water on the counter and rubbed it dry with her finger.