'If I stayed, it would have been worse.' She wanted to explain, find the words to make it all right. But everything she said came out wrong. Christian was an intelligent, sensitive man. He would see through her stonewalling.
'Worse for whom? For me ... or for you? I guess you want me to believe you left to protect me.' His face grew cold with skepticism. 'Nice try. Pardon me if I sound cynical these days.'
This was not how she'd envisioned their conversation, but she deserved the full force of his bitterness. Now Christian moved even closer. Her arms ached to hold him, finally as his mother. But she knew he'd never allow it.
Clenching his jaw, he took another tack. 'I found out someone else was very interested in your whereabouts, besides me. Did your past catch up with you, Fie?'
Nicky. What did he know about Nicholas? A sinister growl of thunder mirrored her fear. The rain continued its assault, crying the tears she held back.
She had never known Christian to be cruel, but it was clear in his taunt. He had been hurt by her betrayal. The use of his nickname for her twisted his words like a knife to her heart. She merited every ounce of his animosity.
'Yes, I suppose it did.' She should have known she could never flee the reality of her base nature. Nicky had stirred the pot, but it was a black kettle of her own creation. She had no one else to blame. 'I should have known I would never outrun it. I just wish—'
Regret choked her, but the pain in his eyes tightened the noose.
'Were you ever planning to tell me the truth?' he asked.
His words struck her. Eyes wide, she couldn't hide her reaction. The truth? What did he know exactly? Once this all began, she had wanted to ease him into the reality of his past. But everything had happened too fast. Her instincts forced her to stall, to find out precisely what he knew before she blundered with a reply.
'I wanted to.' Her response sounded cagey, even to her. 'You deserve to know everything.'
And by the look of him, Christian wasn't buying her trite justification.
'Good intentions aren't gonna cut it. When I needed some answers and you weren't around, I searched your personal things.' He broke his accusing stare for the first time. His admission apparently shamed him. But he soon recovered. Sarcasm returned to his tone. 'I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, and the breach of faith. Trust is so rare. It should be cherished, don't you think? At least, that's what I believed when I was more gullible.'
He no longer looked at her. Folding his arms across his chest, he turned aside and shut his eyes with the strain. After a long moment of silence, he looked over his shoulder. It disturbed her to see him so hurt.
'I thought I knew you . . . and myself. Guess I was wrong on both counts.' He spoke in such a hushed tone that she nearly didn't hear him over the storm. Yet even through the low timbre of his voice, she heard the wounded child. That child had been burned into her memory, branded forever by the condemnation of her actions. She raised a hand to touch his shoulder, but stopped short.
'Tell me what you know, Christian. Please.'
Rain pelted the window, blowing sideways with erratic winds. Her concentration waned as the blustering storm elevated her uneasiness. It was after five when Raven glanced to the clock on the bullpen wall. She had expected to hear from Christian by now. Playing over their last conversations in her head, she wondered what had happened at work that would keep him so late. Didn't he have enough on his plate without the added stress? And with his employer being Fiona Dun-hill, the woman who'd kept such damaging secrets from her own son, her anxiety mounted.
'What's up with you, Christian?' she muttered.
'Hey, Mackenzie.' The desk sergeant poked his head through the doorway. 'I got a message to deliver. From Father Antonio.' He handed her a note.
'Why didn't you just direct the call back to me?' Her eyes were drawn to the pink slip of paper. 'Did he want me to call him back?' She glanced up.
'No. He just wanted to leave the message.' The officer slouched against the door frame. 'Seemed in a hurry.'
'How did he know I was here?' It seemed odd that the priest only left his message, not waiting to speak to her directly. She narrowed her eyes at the note, finding it hard to decipher the message. But the sergeant elaborated.
'Oh, he asked about you and I told him you were here. Then he asked if he could just leave a message.'
The man shrugged. 'He wants you to meet him at the rectory in a half hour, by the side parking lot. Says he may have a witness for the Blair case.'
'Oh, yeah? Well, what do ya know? What's this about flashing something? I can't read your writing, Sarge.'
The man chuckled. 'Yeah, well, I can think of a couple things a man would like you to flash, Mackenzie. But this man is a priest, for cryin' out loud. Show some respect.'
She rolled her eyes, then arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer.
'The note says that when you pull up, flash your lights and he'll join you. Guess he wants you to drive somewhere. With rush-hour traffic, you might want to leave now,' he added.
'Yeah, thanks. Good idea.'
She suddenly remembered what Christian had told her.
A trip to St. Sebastian's definitely constituted a departure from their game plan. But surely he would understand. She was only meeting a priest at a church rectory. How dangerous could that be? A loud crack of thunder nearly jolted her from her seat. Both she and the sergeant looked out the window, catching a violent flash of light streaking across the sky.
'Rush hour is gonna be a bear. My workload's gonna triple.' He scowled. 'You better get going. Drive safe.'
'Yeah, later, Sarge. I gotta see a priest.'
'I've always thought that'd be a good thing for you, Mackenzie. God works in mysterious ways.'
'So I've heard.' She shook her head and grinned at the man.
After grabbing her coat, she put a hand on her Glock in its holster, an old habit when she was on the move. She glanced at her cell phone, checking the battery. It had plenty of juice. The plan could still work. He'd call her and she'd answer the phone.
What could be simpler?
Christian wondered the same thing. What did he know . . . exactly? Good question, Fie—and a clever stall tactic. So much was supposition on his part. Only she knew all the answers.
Lightning streaked across the night sky, hurling its wrath into the void. And with it, his anxiety multiplied. Yet Christian persisted in this verbal joust with Fiona. The vaguer his responses, the more he might get her to admit. It was a gamble. But she was an intelligent woman, smart enough to outwit his lame attempt at a subtle interrogation. And the pained expression on her face made him feel heartless.
'Let's just say that I'm gonna have mixed feelings when it comes to celebrating Mother's Day.' He wanted to bite back his cynicism, but it swept through his words like an infection. He couldn't look at her any longer. Even with everything she'd done, she was still his mother. Nothing justified his cruelty to her, not without first hearing her side of it.
'Oh, God. You don't know how many times I wanted to tell you the truth, especially after—'
'There's a lot I don't know, Mother dearest.'
He walked toward the glass door to the hangar waiting room, his eyes boring through the darkness beyond the lights of the small parking lot. Pulling back his coat, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He caught her in the reflection of the glass. A shimmer of tears influenced the lines of her face. She looked older than her years.
But there was still so much he needed to know. He couldn't spare her. Not now. With her propensity to
