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of Sam’s brother. So naturally, Scarlet wanted to pick the man’s brain about his romance with Karina, why he’d bailed, and whether or not he’d ever been in contact with Dylan. If he’d ever considered reaching out to Sam.
Scarlet had learned from Bayli that an absentee parent could be like a black hole. There might be curiosity to explore it, but chances were very good you’d just get sucked into an inescapable abyss.
Bayli had had what if? moments while growing up, all centered on finding her dad. Who was he, why had he split before she was even born, why had he told her mother he loved her when it clearly wasn’t true?
And what if Bayli were to locate him?
She’d wanted to on a few occasions, Scarlet knew. Particularly when her mother required a series of heart surgeries—and the bills had started to pile up. Bayli had been a kid then and she’d needed not only some financial support from her father but emotional support as well.
But he’d left them both. Willingly. Consciously. So Bayli had finally decided to write him off, as her dad had done with her and her mother.
Had Dylan done the same, or had he searched for his birth parents? Had he found Wyatt?
As the plane touched down at SFO, Scarlet once again reached that mental question when it came to all of her internal queries on this particular subject: Did it matter? If Dylan had somehow tracked down Wyatt or vice versa, did it matter? Did it make any difference in Sam’s life?
Not that Scarlet could see.
So she’d come to another dead end.
She’d learned who Sam’s father was and that Sam had a brother. The rest remained a void.
Well, except for the fact that she was privy to something Sam was not.
Guilt ate at her as she left the terminal, retrieved her car, and drove back to River Cross. Her gran was off on her own wild adventure for a new book, so the house was empty and quiet. Scarlet took a shower and slipped into a nightgown and robe. She was mentally exhausted. Conversely wound up, though.
She snatched her cell from the nightstand, slid between the sheets, and hit the speed dial number for Michael.
“I was just thinking of you,” he said as he connected the call.
Scarlet’s spirits didn’t fully lift. Though Michael’s words were exhilarating, her dark cloud loomed.
She said, “I wish I was simply calling to tell you that I miss you.”
Michael was silent a moment, then asked, “Why does this sound like a Dear John call?”
She laughed softly, despite her tension and melancholy. “That’s not it at all. In fact, it could actually be the other way around.”
“Not likely,” he quietly, though vehemently, told her.
“You say that now.…” Scarlet’s heart hurt. Her very soul felt weighted down, sinking lower and lower.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Michael said in a concerned tone. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is … me, Michael. I’m wrong.”
“About?”
Scarlet sighed dejectedly. “It’s not so much an about scenario. It’s more like a compulsion. A sickness, really.”
“Okay, now you’re worrying me.”
“Sorry. It’s just…” Sheer agony lanced through her. “I have this insatiable need to know everything when it comes to investigations. I can’t help myself. Sometimes I don’t have to delve too deep. Sometimes I do. Whatever the job entails, I do it. But this time … I went too far. I looked into something I had no business looking into. Well, aside from voracious curiosity.”
Michael didn’t say anything for a few moments. Scarlet’s tension mounted.
Finally, he asked, “What exactly were you looking into?”
“Sam’s past,” she admitted, not willing to keep this from Michael because she needed his advice. His help.
