Standoff, page 30
The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch. They did road patrol for a couple of hours, traveling past the halfway mark to Jackson before turning and coming back. Pulled over one speeder doing sixty-five, and Clayton let her write the ticket. Of the other four they clocked over the fifty-mile-an-hour speed limit, she gave a warning to three and ticketed the last one. This was probably her least favorite part of the job, but if LEs didn’t enforce the speed limit, it wouldn’t be long before the Trace would be a racetrack.
At five, Clayton told her he’d show her all the bells and whistles on the Interceptor the next morning, and then she could drive it. Brooke couldn’t wait and hummed as she drove home. When she opened the back door, Toby’s frenzied barks reminded her she needed to let him out in the backyard.
She keyed in the code for the alarm, and paused. What if her mom hadn’t accidentally let Toby out? What if someone had broken in? While the security system had been armed just now, what if her mom had forgotten to arm the security system before she left? She’d forgotten before.
Brooke searched each room, but nothing appeared out of place, and she went to her bedroom to change. Her gaze rested on the report she’d printed yesterday. The papers were stacked awfully neat for her. She scanned them, and the thought of someone reading what she’d written made her shiver. Stop being paranoid. Other than Toby being in the garage, there was no evidence anyone had been inside the house. Her mom probably hadn’t noticed he’d gotten out.
She would run it by Luke later, and turned to finding something to wear for her dinner with him. Brooke soon found her mood turned upside down again. Enough. This was a simple business meeting for her to fill him in on what she’d learned about Dale. Why did she care what she wore? Why hadn’t she specified which restaurant? She’d at least know whether to go casual or dress up a little.
Dress up. That reminded her of her other problem. What if she and Emma didn’t find a suitable outfit for Saturday night? She shot a quick text to Emma asking if they could go shopping Thursday night.
Calm down. We’ll find something Friday. I saw a cute dress in the window at JJ’s that will be perfect.
Why didn’t that calm her down? Brooke practiced the Lamaze breathing Meghan had taught her. If she ever had a baby, she’d be way ahead of the game. Then she closed her eyes and grabbed two hangers. Good, a pair of skinny jeans and a white top. It’d work for business casual. Business or not, her heart jumped when the doorbell rang, and she hurried to answer it.
The peephole showed she’d chosen well. Luke was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt. She opened the door, and her gaze went to the basket in his hand. She raised a puzzled face to him.
“I thought a picnic would be nice. Maybe down by the river across from the convention center. And you can bring Toby, if you’d like.”
Brooke didn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a picnic. “You surprise me sometimes. And thanks for including Toby—I haven’t had time to walk him and he needs the exercise.”
She didn’t expect a jolt from the lopsided grin he gave her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
They parked on the street and found shade near a giant crepe myrtle. Toby’s leash had a long retractable line and gave the dachshund room to move around. Luke had even thought to bring a quilt and spread it on the ground. Inside the basket he had a box of Miss Annie’s chicken and a small cooler of iced tea.
“I didn’t get the cream potatoes and gravy,” he said. “But I got her famous potato salad.”
She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she smelled the chicken.
“How was your first day?” he asked.
“Interesting. Clayton’s nephew and his friends had lassoed an alligator, and we set it free.” Brooke picked up a drumstick and bit into the crispy chicken leg. “Clayton used a bone-handled knife to set it free, but I didn’t get a good look at it. When I asked about it, he brushed my question off.”
“Did he act suspicious or nervous about it?”
“No, and that’s not all. Clayton’s nephew drives a dark SUV that has white paint on the right fender.”
“Good detective work. Find out where he lives, and I’ll get a scraping of the paint.”
His praise warmed her. “You can probably find the SUV at the high school tomorrow.”
“I’ll check it out in the morning,” he said.
“Let me know what time, and I’ll help you locate it.”
“Another good idea.”
For the next few minutes, Brooke concentrated on eating the delicious food Luke had brought. The man was full of surprises. He offered her more tea and another chicken leg when her plate was empty.
“No thank you. I’m full,” she said and broached the subject she’d rather leave alone. “I talked to Emma. She confirmed that Dale was buying marijuana. She saw him at a drug house near her grandmother’s.”
Luke winced. “I hope that’s all he’s doing. Where’s the house? I can keep a watch on it and if I happened to be there when he came to make a buy, I could question him without involving anyone else.”
She gave him directions to where Emma’s grandmother lived.
“Did Jeremy send you the list of people who are attending his party?”
“Not yet. You don’t think Jeremy is involved with the cartel, do you?”
“Right now, just about everyone in Natchez is a suspect.” He put what was left of the chicken in the basket and then gathered the trash and stuffed it in a bag. “Want to walk along the river?”
Why not? The walk would be good for Toby, and she wasn’t ready to return to her parents’ empty house. She took his hand and let him pull her up. In spite of her resolve, her heart kicked up a notch when he didn’t let go of her hand as they strolled the north end of the River Front Trail past several unique homes. She turned toward the river and was envious of the view the homeowners had. When they reached the end of the trail, they retraced their steps.
“How are things between you and your mom?” Luke asked.
“Better.” She gave Toby a little more leash, but he trotted over and plopped in front of her, panting. “You’re thirsty,” she said, and poured water in her cupped hand and offered it to him.
“Should’ve brought a cup,” Luke said. “I’m glad things are better.”
Brooke stood and turned toward the west, where the sun’s rays behind a bank of clouds painted the sky hues of red and yellow.
“Brooke.”
Luke’s quiet voice drew her, and she turned around. He had his phone out and snapped a photo of her against the fiery backdrop.
“I asked who my dad is, and she refused to tell me.”
He approached her. “Did she say why?”
She shook her head. “Only that he wasn’t a nice person.”
“Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re better off not knowing.” He brushed back a strand of hair the breeze had blown across her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Abruptly he sighed and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She didn’t get it. It was obvious he’d wanted to kiss her, and then he didn’t. “Can I ask why?”
He looked past her toward the Louisiana side of the river, then his shoulders stiffened and he brought his gaze back to her. “I’m all wrong for you. Too much baggage. You have a good thing going with Jeremy Steele, and I don’t want to mess that up for you.”
“I see.” That made two nights in a row that he’d made his intentions plain, and it ought to be enough for her, so why did a little piece of her heart die?
“I don’t think you do. When this case is over, I’ll be long gone. Go have a good life with Jeremy, or if that doesn’t work out, find a man who deserves you.”
70
Brooke’s days the rest of the week fell into a routine. Except for Tuesday morning when she met Luke at the high school to get the paint scrapings, they consisted of taking care of Toby, going to work, coming home. Next day repeat. Then Thursday at noon, she received a phone call from the rehab. Daisy had fallen and was at the ER. Brooke practically flew to Merit Hospital, and her stomach twisted like a corkscrew when she found Luke in her empty room in the ER.
“Where’s Daisy?” she asked. Luke’s slumped shoulders reflected exactly how she felt.
“CT scan. She hit her head when she fell.”
Brooke pressed her fingers to her mouth. “What happened?”
“She’d been sitting for a while and her foot went to sleep. Didn’t hold her up when she stood.” He walked to the door and looked down the hall. “I thought she’d be back by now.”
“Do you need to be somewhere? I’ll stay here if you want to leave.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I hate to go, but I really need to check on a dealer at the gun and knife show. He’s leaving after lunch. I hope he can tell me if there are any Boker knife collectors around here.”
“Daisy will understand.”
Finally he nodded. “Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Half an hour later, attendants rolled Daisy into the room and helped her onto the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like I did something stupid. Where’s Luke?”
“He left. Said he’d be back,” Brooke said. She couldn’t shake the cloud of doom hanging over her. “Did anyone tell you the results of the CT scan?”
“No. Said my doctor would tell me.” She reached out her hand to Brooke. “Honey, I know you have a lot going on, but you seem sadder than usual.”
A band squeezed Brooke’s chest. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about what her mom had told her. Not even to Daisy. But maybe it was time. “Did you know John Danvers wasn’t my biological father?”
Daisy was quiet, and then she patted the side of the bed. “Come sit here.”
“You knew?”
She smoothed her white hair back. “Your grandmother and I were good friends, and she confided in me before Vivian married John. She was very worried about her daughter.”
The band grew tighter. “How . . .” Brooke swallowed. “How many other people know?”
“John’s parents, but that’s all, as far as I know, and they’ve passed.” Daisy fingered the white sheet on the bed. “I told you once that your lineage doesn’t define you. That’s still true.”
She’d spoken those words to Brooke before she received the results from the ancestry place. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Wasn’t my place.”
Brooke absorbed Daisy’s answer. “Mom won’t tell me who my father is. Do you know? And don’t tell me it’s not your place.” When Daisy didn’t answer right away, Brooke said, “You know, don’t you?”
“I know,” the older woman replied. “But let me think on it, and pray about it.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to press for more information, but it would do no good to push Daisy.
They both looked up as a man in a white coat entered the ER room. “Well, Mrs. Fereday, looks like you have a small intracranial hematoma,” he said.
“English, please,” Daisy said.
“When you fell, it caused a tear in the covering of your brain. We want to watch it overnight. If it doesn’t get bigger and you have no symptoms, we’ll simply continue to watch it.”
“And if it gets bigger?”
“Then we’ll talk about surgery.” He patted her hand. “As soon as you’re assigned a room, we’ll move you, and in the morning, we’ll do another CT scan, and if there’s no change, we’ll discharge you to the rehab.”
After he left, Daisy twisted the corner of the sheet into a knot. “I hate being so much trouble.”
“You are no trouble, and I’ll stay with you until you get settled in your room.”
“Where did Luke go?”
Brooke hesitated, not wanting to lie to Daisy.
“What’s that boy up to?”
Brooke didn’t know what to tell her.
Daisy sighed. “He’s not an accountant, is he?”
“What makes you say that?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Brooke ducked her head. “You’ll have to ask him what he’s up to,” she said and received an impatient snort.
Once she had Daisy settled in her room, she picked up her purse. “I need to leave now, but I’ll be back tomorrow around lunch. Is there anything special I can bring you?”
“A burger from the Malt Shop. The one Luke brought just made me hungry for another one.”
“Then that’s what I’ll bring.” She stopped at the door. “And I hope you can give me an answer to my question when I come.”
Daisy’s smile faded. “I’ll pray about it, child. But it really doesn’t matter who your biological father is, your true father is the one who spent time with you. Taught you how to ride a bike, held you when you were hurting. That was John Danvers. He raised you, and he loved you.” She hesitated. “You need to be prepared that your biological father may not want to see you.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to meet him, I just want to know who he is.”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow what I decide.”
Brooke spent a restless night. She didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important to know the name of her biological father, but it was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She’d always wondered why she had dark hair and olive skin tones when the rest of her family was blond and fair-skinned.
“How do you feel?” Brooke asked when she called to check on Daisy before driving to Port Gibson.
“Hungry. Don’t forget my burger!”
“Have you—”
“We’ll talk when you get here.”
Brooke took her lunch break to go by the Malt Shop and bought them both a hamburger. She didn’t get the fries, fearing they’d be cold by the time they ate.
“Here you go, missy,” she said, setting the burger on the tray next to Daisy’s untouched lunch.
“Real food,” she said with a contented sigh.
Brooke picked at her sandwich until Daisy shook her head. “Okay, let’s get this out of the way. Come sit here,” she said, patting the bed.
Sitting on Daisy’s bed was getting to be a habit, and Brooke did as she was told. Daisy took her hand. “First, God knew all about you before you were born. You are not a mistake. He loves you. Don’t dwell on the past or something you have no control over.”
When she didn’t answer, Daisy squeezed her hand. “Honey, you can either let this define you, or it can simply be a bump in the road.”
Brooke turned Daisy’s words over in her mind. For the past week, this mountain of a problem had consumed her.
“Does knowing the circumstance of how you were conceived change who you are?”
“No . . . but—”
“No buts. You are the same sweet, caring person you were before you learned the truth. Maybe you’re not John’s blood daughter, but he had a big hand in making you who you are,” she said. “He helped create your moral compass. Showed you right from wrong. Loved you when you were unlovable. A lot like God.
“Except John was human. He made a mistake by not telling you the truth. My question is, are you going to let that destroy the wonderful memories you have of him?”
If she could only flip a switch in her brain. Brooke tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat. She did not want to live like this. “You’re right,” she said, her voice cracking.
Daisy wrapped her arms around Brooke. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” Suddenly, the chains that encircled her heart since Saturday night weren’t nearly as heavy.
“And if you still want to know your father’s name, I’ll tell you.”
Her breath stilled. Did she? The question warred within her.
“I do,” Brooke said. “Maybe not for the reason I had before, but knowing me, the question won’t go away.”
“If you’re certain.”
“I am.”
“His name is Justin Boudreaux.”
71
Justin Boudreaux?
“The man bringing a superstore to Natchez?” The man Luke suspected of moving drugs up and down the Trace? An image of the man she’d seen in the newspaper recently popped into her mind. Yep. That’s where she’d gotten her dark hair and olive coloring.
Daisy nodded. “One and the same.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Brooke needed space to process her feelings. She bent over and hugged the older woman, feeling her bony shoulders through the hospital gown. When had Daisy gotten so thin? “Be sure to finish your hamburger.”
A few minutes later Brooke sat in her car with the motor running. Justin Boudreaux was her biological father? Grocery magnate slash drug czar? That certainly explained the file in her dad’s office. She shifted the gear into drive and pointed the car toward her house. She wanted to get another look at that file.
A text dinged on her phone when she pulled into the drive. Jeremy.
Emailing you the guest list you asked for. You are brilliant!
Brooke had followed through on her idea of getting the names of people Jeremy expected at the gala, but she hadn’t expected him to think her brilliant because she thought it would help her chat with them. She texted him a blushing emoji before entering the house.
Where had she put that file? Brooke searched through the first drawer without finding it. The rest of the drawers revealed no file. Brooke tapped her fingers on the cabinet. Did her mom find the file and destroy it?
She dialed Luke’s number, intending to ask him if he remembered seeing the file.
“What’s up, sugar?” he asked.
He must be working undercover. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to let you know I’d seen Daisy.”
“I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Love ya,” he said before he disconnected.
If she didn’t know better, she would think he meant it. She walked to her room and booted up her computer. Now that she had her father’s name, she wanted to learn more about his background. Half an hour later, she leaned against the back of her chair. Justin Boudreaux seemed to be a pillar of society. Wealthy, philanthropic . . . she’d found nothing to indicate he had any dealings with drugs or a cartel. Could Luke be wrong?
