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“I’m good. Cashie drove me instead of Cara,” Hope said.
“Cara’s car was acting up, so she rode to the law firm with Alex. Protesting the entire way.” The little doll baby in scrubs grinned. Wickedly. Sol felt his own mouth curve instinctively. She was a sweet one, this one.
“Nothing faster than a Cashie in a car.” Heather took her sister’s bag. Sol took a quick moment to study them side-by-side, along with the girl who’d driven. No denying they were related—and very, very beautiful ladies.
“Yeah, there is—a Heather or a Hope in a hurry!” the young thing in scrubs said. Then she was climbing back into her little car and starting the engine. Sol winced. That thing needed a tune-up. Bad.
She waved and pulled out—a bit too fast than the car should be able to go.
Or should go, for that matter.
He bet that one had a bunch of speeding tickets under her belt. Then again, if she shot that smile at the men who pulled her over, probably not.
“That car needs servicing before too much longer. She shouldn’t be driving it like that,” he said as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Let me at least get the door.”
“Thanks,” Hope said.
She reminded him so much of his Maribeth. So much. Even her voice sounded like his little girl’s. Up close like this… Big brown eyes, cute little pug nose.
His breath caught, as unexpected tears filled his own eyes. Same sweet innocence was there, too. She reminded him so much of his girl it hurt. So much.
“I’ll take a look at her car when I get a chance. I usually do all the car stuff for the family,” Hope said. “Rent the tools I need, that kind of thing.”
Hell. She even had a similar band of freckles across her nose. Just like his baby’s had been. Sol cleared his throat. “I know my way around an engine, honey. You need any help, just ask. I don’t have much else to do with my time now. I got two cars I restored just sitting there in my garage, practically rotting. Every tool you could need, just going to waste. I’d be happy to lend them to you if you need them, save you some money and everything. And I got two good hands. Happy to lend them, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He stepped back, after opening the door for the women.
And watched them walk away.
Sol headed to his desk. He settled in, went about his morning routine like he always had.
Then he pulled open his drawer. Right there in the middle was his favorite photo of him and his little girl. His baby. The day after her high school graduation. He looked at his daughter. And compared. Build, facial features, hair style, clothes—there were similarities. No denying that.
The hair was darker. Hope’s anyway. Maribeth’s had had a hint of red in the brown. Like his had once had. Little Hope’s eyes were a bit darker, he thought. But Hope’s hair was cut in that same shaggy, jagged cut that Maribeth had always had. Maribeth was in baggy jeans and a skating kitten T-shirt, with a flannel shirt tied around her skinny waist. His girl had never had any real curves to speak of either. But the grin…
Hell, he had always loved the way that child of his had smiled.
The world had just always seemed brighter when his baby girl smiled.
He’d give anything to see his Maribeth’s grin one more time. Anything.
If he had been a better father…
If that damned OPJ had never hit the streets…
If Sol had been more of a man, maybe it would be his baby girl working in forensics now. Or doing anything she wanted. Instead of being buried beneath the dirt in the city cemetery. Gone forever. He really did have nothing left.
59
Haldyn had tried to get into Victor Scott’s files, but the more pressing needs of running the lab kept pulling her away. The lab was her responsibility, and she was determined to make it the best facility she possibly could.
And about the only place she had peace from Jarrod was the lab. Haldyn made certain to keep herself in the lab for that very reason.
She needed to think where he was concerned.
The shatter-resistant glass doors to the lab were locked. Only those with an ID badge or a security code could get into her lab now.
