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It wasn’t technically true. But he had to have answers. If leading the chief to believe he already had, by other means, the information that he wanted the chief to discuss with him, and the chief would then open up more to him, give him more complete information, then the end justified the means.
* * *
Miranda passed Tad on the road Sunday, on her way home from the grocery store. She waved. He waved. Ethan turned around, as much as the belt would let him, and kept waving.
She couldn’t even pretend not to be thinking about him after that, and when her son was in his room, doing his weekly cleaning chores, she texted Tad, asking him if he felt like grilling a steak. The man was alone. Healing. Helping Marie.
It wasn’t until after he’d said a steak sounded good that she told him it would have to be at the play park on the beach. She didn’t own a grill.
Didn’t have steak, either, but a grilled steak did sound wonderful. And it was something she never had because Ethan hated steak. On her trip back to the grocery store for a couple of thick T-bones, she bought her son the hot dogs he wanted as his dinner on the grill. She’d planned to meet Tad at the park, which was really just playground equipment, some grills and picnic tables cordoned off in the sand of one of Santa Raquel’s tourist beaches. But when he’d offered to pick her and Ethan up, she wasn’t quick enough to invent a reason to refuse and said yes.
She told herself she wasn’t going to make a big deal of her appearance. The meal wasn’t a date. She and Tad weren’t dating.
She wore leggings because they’d be comfortable to sit in on the beach. And the thigh-length off-white figure-hugging short-sleeved sweater was the only thing warm enough to wear with leggings on the beach in April. Running a brush through her hair was just polite, and she reapplied her minimal makeup because she’d rushed through it that morning.
The ride over could have been intimate, sitting next to him in the front seat of his SUV, but Ethan, strapped in the back in his shorts, long-sleeved shirt and tennis shoes, took over the space and didn’t let go during the five-minute drive to the park. As soon as Tad answered his first question—had Tad ever been to the beach park?—in the negative, the six-year-old regaled him with all the things he could do there. How the slide was higher than the one at school, there were a lot more swings for big people, and if you got high up and wanted to jump out, it was cool because you landed on the sand.
The barrage went on. She was happy to listen. Her son sounded normal. Happy. Eager to face what was ahead of him.
She’d done some good as his only parent.
Ethan wanted to go down to the water first thing, so they left the cooler in the car and, after taking off their shoes, walked across the sand, down to the shore. The beach wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t deserted, either, that Sunday afternoon. Seventy degrees and breezy was too cold to swim, but a couple of kids were wading, bending over, picking things up off the ocean floor. Another kid was building a sandcastle in sand wet from the surf. Three teenage girls walked past them, chattering and laughing. A few couples were scattered about.
Ethan liked to look for anything living on the shoreline.
“You’re giving him a great childhood,” Tad said, standing beside her just out of reach of the waves lapping at the shore.
“I do my best.” The breeze was harsher down by the water, but she welcomed the coolness on her heated skin. Being around Tad, who needed central heat? Or warmth from the sun?
“I went to the beach once, as a little kid. In a town called South Haven on the shores of Lake Michigan across from Chicago. Mom rented a cottage there for the long weekend over the Fourth of July.”
It was the first mention he’d ever made of his personal life. Avid for more, for a real picture of the man who compelled her to want to be around him, she asked, “Was your dad there, too?”
“Nope. He took off when I was a baby. Met someone else, divorced my mom and moved to North Dakota. It was always only Mom, my older sister, Steffie, and me.”
“Did you ever see him?” Fathers were a tough subject. No matter what they did to you, you loved them. Felt like you needed them.
Until you had a child of your own to protect.
“Not that I remember. He left that woman, too, luckily for her before they had kids. Last I heard, he was in Florida, working as a casino dealer. As far as I know he never remarried or had other kids.”
“Have you tried to get in touch with him?”
“Not in a long time.”
The way he said the words had her looking up at him, and she was shocked to see the bitter sadness in his expression. Ethan was talking to the kids who’d been in the water, picking up things from the ocean shore, seemed to be comparing finds. He was a friendly kid. Outgoing. She’d been worrying too much that week about the way she’d secluded him.
“How about your si
ster? Is she in touch?” She wanted desperately to know. But didn’t want to push.
She didn’t want to be pushed, either.
“Steffie’s dead.”
Her heart dropped, and the breath caught in her throat. “What happened?” She turned to him and when he met her gaze...it was like his soul and hers...knew each other. Connected as friends, not strangers.
“She and I were home alone one night. I was a freshman in high school. She was a freshman in college, going to a local university. Mom was at work. She was a nurse at the children’s hospital in Detroit.”
