deadbeat, absent father, would disqualify her from procreation. And what kind of mother could she be to someone else’s kid when she hadn’t even been able to stop one crazy woman from killing her brothers and sisters?
She should have protected them. She hadn’t. The end.
She didn’t deserve to have children of her own. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to inflict herself and her nasty baggage on someone else’s kid.
She rubbed her burning eyes and turned right on the highway, heading for the office. If she went to the office, she could at least pretend she was still doing her job, trying to protect Maddy Cooper instead of running away like a scared teenager who’d gone too far on her first date.
And wanted to go further still, a traitorous little voice whispered in the back of her head. Her body still felt hot and restless from her encounter with Sam.
Maybe Foley would still be around the office. She could help him go through the files again, see if there was anything else they’d missed. Work was the best distraction. It always had been.
She dialed his cell number. He answered on the second ring, his voice weary. “What are you doing calling at this hour, Tandy?”
“Just checking to see if you were still in the office.”
“After midnight? I’m dedicated, but not that dedicated.”
She looked at the dashboard clock. Almost half past twelve. She hadn’t even thought to look. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“Where are you?”
“In the car.”
“I thought you were at Cooper’s place tonight.”
“I was there earlier. I just thought I’d head into the office for a bit, do a little catch-up.” She grimaced, knowing the excuse sounded lame.
“After midnight?” Foley clearly agreed.
“Forget it. Sorry I called so late.” She rang off and shoved her phone back in her jacket pocket, squirming with shame at her own cowardice.
She turned the car around and headed back to the lake.
The porch light was on when she arrived, but the door was locked already. Rather than knock and risk waking Maddy, she let herself in with the spare key Sam had given her.
Inside, all the lights were dimmed. Sam had apparently gone to bed already.
She locked the door behind her and walked quietly down the short hall to the spare bedroom. Flicking on the light, she looked around the room, noting that Sam had put away the bags she’d brought with her and turned down the bed. Fresh-cut daisies in water sat in a clear glass vase on the bedside table, a feminizing touch in the otherwise utilitarian room.
Kristen sat on the edge of the bed, fingering the delicate petals of the daisies, tears burning her eyes. Such a thoughtful gesture, the flowers. Sam had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome, even though her presence had to be a disruption in his already-upended life.
It made her wish she was a different kind of woman.
But she wasn’t a different kind of woman. She was Kristen Tandy, with a homicidal mother and scars that ran deep, inside and out. That wasn’t going to change, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.
“HIS NAME IS DARRYL MORRIS.” Gossamer Ridge Day School director Jennifer Franks looked up at Kristen, curiosity bright in her green eyes. She shifted her gaze to Foley, who stood at Kristen’s side. “Has Darryl done something wrong?”
Kristen darted a look at her partner, who sat beside her in a bright yellow chair in front of the desk in the director’s office. Judging by the room’s decor, the preschool bought into the idea that exposure to a plethora of bright primary colors was good for developing young minds.
They just gave Kristen a headache.
“We’re hoping he might have seen something the other day when he was here taking photos,” Foley told the director.
Jennifer’s brow furrowed. “He was here taking photos recently? Are you certain?”
“One of the parents mentioned seeing Mr. Morris here a couple of weeks ago,” Kristen said. “She thought the school had hired Mr. Morris to take photos of the grounds.”
Jennifer shook her head. “We don’t have any upcoming projects that would require his services. Perhaps she saw someone else and just thought it was Mr. Morris.”
“Someone else on the grounds during school hours, taking pictures?” Kristen asked skeptically. “With the children around?”
Jennifer’s frown deepened. “No, certainly not.”
Kristen exchanged glances with Foley. One of his dark eyebrows notched upward.
“Do you have Mr. Morris’s contact information?” he asked.
The director reached into her desk drawer for a vinyl business card folio. She flipped pages and withdrew a plain white business card with the inscription, Darryl Morris, Photographer and a toll-free phone number.
Kris jotted the information into her notebook. “Thank you, Ms. Franks.”
“Is he a danger to our students?” Jennifer Franks asked, her tone urgent.
Foley handed her his business card. “We have no reason to think so at this point. As you said, the witness may have been mistaken.”
“We just want to talk to him,” Kristen added. “Meanwhile, if you think of anything you’ve seen or heard in the last couple of weeks, anything that seemed out of the ordinary, please give Detective Foley or me a call at the number on that card.”
She followed Foley out of the school office, sidestepping a boisterous kindergartner who’d broken free from the line of five-year-olds marching down the hall toward the playground. Foley reached out and snagged the little boy’s shirt, tugging him gently to a halt.
“Slow down, cowboy,” Foley chided mildly.
The boy turned and flashed a sheepish, gap-toothed grin at Foley before his teacher took him by the hand and led him back into line.
Foley was still smiling when they reached the car. “Gina’s pregnant again,” he said.
Kristen stopped short, looking at him over the roof of the Impala. “Congratulations.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks. It was a surprise. We’d always figured we’d stop at two.”
Kristen wasn’t sure what to say. Foley’s mood was usually easy to gauge, but his out-of-the-blue announcement had her feeling off balance.
Not that she didn’t have a million reasons of her own to feel off balance, starting with her unfinished business with Sam Cooper.
He and Maddy had both been up and dressed by the time Kristen finished showering and dressing that morning. Sam’s mother was there, as well, having brought breakfast muffins for everyone. She’d stayed until Kristen had to leave to meet Foley at the preschool, her happy, motherly presence providing a welcome buffer between Kristen and Sam. Sam had looked a bit frustrated, but Kristen couldn’t feel anything but relief.
She wasn’t ready to talk to Sam about what had happened between them the night before. Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
“Is something wrong?” Foley asked when she didn’t make a move to open the car door.
She meant to shake her head and get in the car, hoping the subject would drop. So she was surprised to hear herself blurt, “How did you know you were good parent material?”
Foley stared at her, puzzlement written on every inch of his face. “What?”
Ignoring the nagging voice at the back of her mind ordering her to shut up and get in the car, she answered, “When you and Gina decided to have your first child, how did you know you’d be any good at it?”
Foley’s bark of laughter caught her by surprise. “We were young and stupid. That kind of question never occurred to us.” He nodded toward the car. “Get in and I’ll tell you all about my first year as a father. We’ll call it ‘Nightmare on Main Street.’”
Kristen slid into the passenger seat and buckled in, kicking herself for bringing up the subject in the first place. She didn’t mind hearing Foley’s tales from the dark side of fatherhood, but she knew that her out-of-character curiosity was bound to stick in her partner’s mind, long after he’d exhausted his store of anecdotes.
