Reunited in Danger (4 page)

He rose now and moved the chair to its proper place under the dining room table. He
took half a step and bent to pick up a framed picture from the rug.

She didn’t need to see the front of it to know which photo he held. Her mom had taken
it in the backyard. A close-up of Keely and her dad, their faces red from the cold,
snowflakes fluttering around them, and huge grins on their faces because they’d built
a kick-ass snowman.

Logan picked out the broken glass shards one by one, carefully placing them on the
table, then stared at the photo before gently placing it on the shelf where it belonged.
“Ben told me this is one of his favorite pictures.” He smiled, his face soft and unguarded.

The wall surrounding her heart cracked a little. Whatever pain that had caused a rift
between her and Logan all those years ago didn’t matter now. This was a man who could
help figure out who’d hurt her dad, and why. And who could stop the threat from happening
again.

Time to let the past stay in the past and move on.

“Look, I know you’re good at what you do. But…” She had to be sure he understood the
parameters, had to be clear about what this meant. “That’s it. We can work together
to find his attacker. Our relationship stays strictly professional.”

“I—”

“And I’m going to be part of the investigation.”

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Really?” she continued on in a rush. “You’re going to give me that look when you
know I can be helpful?” She took a step toward him and raised her palm. “I know the
church members. I know his friends. I’m familiar with the neighborhood. This is still
my community, even more than it is yours. You need me and you know it.” She didn’t
care if it was childish. She jabbed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes right
back at him.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “No. Too dangerous. I’ll handle it.” He adjusted
his posture, standing tall and spreading his feet apart. His cop stance. Sexy as hell.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re going to walk around this room to look for anything
out of place. But that’s as far as your investigative work goes.” He pulled out his
cell phone and started to take pictures of the scene.

She relaxed her hands. Hadn’t even known they’d been clenched.
Fine
. She glanced around. Broken photos and various knickknacks lay scattered on the hardwood
floor. Shivers ran down her spine at the thought of strangers touching her dad’s belongings.

She noticed something. Ben’s prized baseball card collection—worth thousands of dollars—sat
on top of the sideboard.

She crossed the room. She peered inside a drawer and glanced up. “My mom’s good silver
is still here.”

“Don’t touch anything else,” Logan said. “Stand back for a minute.”

Bossy much?
She did so and faced him. “But on the way over you said Dunnigan told you the police
cleared the scene.”

“I know. I want you to look at something.” He pointed. “The top two sideboard drawers
have been pulled out, but the bottom two are closed.”

She glanced at the drawers. “What does that mean? Mrs. Beyer interrupted them when
they were in the middle of searching?”

“Professional thieves open drawers from bottom to top so they don’t waste time closing
them. There’s only a surface mess in here.”

Keely frowned.

He tilted his head as if to say that was all the information he could share. “Let’s
check upstairs. Preliminary report says nothing is out of order there. Maybe you can
verify the thieves didn’t touch anything on the second floor.”

Fine.
She’d drop it for now. She glanced at him and noticed a shadow covering his jaw.
He’d worked the night shift, and then without any sleep, he’d come to the hospital
to see Ben and bring her here. And how had she repaid him?

By laying into him.

But she’d had to do it. Even now, when she looked at him, she felt the old familiar
stir in her chest. She had to protect herself. A ping of guilt stabbed her gut. Self-protection
didn’t mean hurting someone else. Her adoptive parents had taught her as much. And
yet she wasn’t quite ready to apologize.

He climbed the steps to the bedroom, Keely following. He stood to the side of the
doorway and looked around. “Notice anything missing?”

She glanced around her father’s organized room, with its sturdy, worn furniture. She
walked around the perimeter, glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed and the small
reading lamp on a nightstand. She opened a few drawers, but couldn’t find anything
out of place. “It looks just like he always keeps it.”

“Since your dad will recover, the police department is listing this as a robbery with
aggravated assault. The two men didn’t have any weapons as far as we know, which makes
it an even lower priority.”

“But my dad was hurt. How could they do that? Just dismiss the crime?”

“The classification doesn’t dismiss it. The case will be listed as ‘pending,’ meaning
it will stay open. But unless more evidence turns up, the police won’t be actively
investigating it, Keels. Not enough manpower. Dunnigan will go back to investigating
higher priority cases. I’m sorry.”

Well, she had a few ideas churning in her head. “Maybe this has something to do with
Su Lin. Maybe there are copies of the files from his briefcase in his office at the
rectory, and some of the Loving Arms board members might be able to help. I’ll make
some calls.”

Logan whirled around. “No, Keely. I don’t want you getting involved in any sort of
investigation.”

Yeah, right
. As if Logan North had any power over her.

Chapter Five

A few hours later, Keely tested the straps on the car seat that was buckled in the
backseat of her compact car. The early afternoon sun beat down on her shoulders, and
she welcomed the warmth. She grabbed a clipboard with the official information on
her current case, and moved beside Nevaeh to peer up at the brick row home. Most of
the neighboring homes were boarded up, with front doors and windows covered in plywood
and graffiti. In spite of the supposed horrific situation the children in the house
were experiencing, Keely welcomed the distraction of work, even though her mind kept
returning to her dad’s attack. She’d left Logan at her father’s place, their conversation
unfinished but a plan forming in her mind.

“The police should be here any minute,” Nevaeh said.

No matter how many times Keely removed children from their homes to be placed in foster
care, each incident was a sober moment. Another broken family. Another set of siblings
that would probably be split up to find suitable housing for them. Another abusive
parent.

A one-year-old girl with two broken arms had been dropped off at the local Emergency
Room. An elderly woman had filled out the papers with the help of a Spanish-speaking
interpreter, then disappeared. From what Child Protective Services had learned, the
baby’s mother was dead and the father, a drug dealer, had been arrested for child
abuse before. Keely’s job was to get the baby’s three-year-old brother George and
eight-year-old sister Melita out of the house and away from the father.

Her job was to keep those children safe.

A police cruiser pull
ed up and two uniformed Baltimore officers she knew well from other foster situations
—Seth and Dennis—stepped out and joined them.

Nevaeh and Keely climbed the two crooked, cracked cement steps behind the officers.

“Baltimore Police,” Seth called out, pounding on the front door.

Keely coughed as the strong scent of urine wafted on the breeze.

A small hand moved the lace curtain at the window near the door, then the curtain
swished back into place.

The doorknob turned and the door creaked open a crack. Dim light filtered out from
the house.

Seth unholstered his gun.
Shit.
That would really freak these kids. She knew the cops had to be ready for anything,
though.

“Baltimore Police. We’re looking for Mr. Padilla.”

The door opened wider and a small boy—about three years old—stood sucking his thumb,
his other hand on the doorknob.

“
Sí
?” a female voice called from inside.

Keely bent, hands on knees, to be eye-level with the little boy who wore only a sagging
disposable diaper in desperate need of a change. “Hi. I’m Keely. You must be George,”
she said, then repeated her sentence in Spanish.

The boy smiled, and Nevaeh stepped around him to enter the dark house, Seth and Dennis
behind her.

With the door open, enough sun poured in to light the foyer and small living room.
The stench of rotting food and human waste assaulted Keely’s nose and stung her throat.

Piles of garbage covered the floor. Nevaeh kicked wrappers and cartons to clear a
path to an elderly woman who sat in a tattered chair, her foot propped on a three-legged
table that should have had four legs. Was this the woman who’d dropped the baby at
the hospital?

Keely took the boy’s small hand in hers and led him to the living room. She addressed
the elderly woman in Spanish. “Ma’am, we’re with Baltimore City Child Protective Services.
We need to take the children to a safer place. Is their father here? Mr. Padilla?”

Tears pooled in the old woman’s eyes.

“There’s another child.” Keely tilted the clipboard to check the paper. A three-inch
cockroach dropped onto the paper. Keely swallowed a scream, tilted her clipboard to
dump the bug to the floor, and then squashed it with her boot. She’d learned long
ago to wear sturdy shoes to work. “Melita?”

George pulled his thumb from his mouth with a loud sucking sound. “Melita, Melita,”
he parroted.

“No. Melita no está aquí.”
No, she’s not here
. The old woman shook her head and a tear traveled down her wrinkled face. Rapidly,
she spoke in Spanish, saying the little girl’s father claimed that Melita had run
away.

Eight years old was young to run off. Not unheard of, but definitely younger than
most runaways. God help the little girl if she, like the rest of her family, didn’t
know English well. “Did he report her missing?” Nevaeh asked in Spanish.

The woman closed her eyes. Her chin dropped to her chest. “
Lo siento
,” she mumbled. She was sorry.

Keely turned to the officers. “Can you do a sweep of the house to look for Melita
or the father?”

Seth nodded and moved toward the steps.

“Nevaeh, can you follow up on that at the office while I take George to the Emergency
Room for a checkup?”

“Sure, I—”

Something crashed in the back of the house. A door? Keely pushed George behind her,
Nevaeh moved behind a torn wing-back chair, and the two policemen raised their guns.
The woman jolted, suddenly alert.

A man—six feet tall, unshaven, and wearing dirty jeans and a beater T-shirt—stumbled
into the room from what Keely assumed was the kitchen.

“Police. Freeze!” Dennis yelled. Both cops pointed their guns at the man.

The man staggered another step, then came to a stop at the edge of the room. He pointed
at George. “That’s
mi
ni
ño
.”
My kid
.

Keely’s heart pounded. She had to get the boy out of here now. But not before at least
trying to find the girl. “Where’s Melita, Mr. Padilla? Your daughter, where is she?”

“Gimme
mi
hijo
.” His took a step toward Keely.

“Sir, don’t move. Put your hands on your head,” Dennis ordered.

Keely repeated his order in Spanish.

“Keely, Nevaeh, get out now,” Seth said, motioning with his head to the open door.
He spoke into his radio to request backup and a Spanish-speaking officer.

Nevaeh slid along the wall toward the front door, and Keely lifted George into her
arms and ran.

An hour later, Keely sat in the Emergency Room, holding little George, who was wrapped
in two small blankets from her trunk. The police hadn’t found Melita at the house.
Worry built in Keely’s gut. So young to be out on the streets.

Like many times before when she encountered broken and abused children, she said a
silent
thank you
to her mom and dad who’d taken her in, given her shelter and safety. And love.

She smiled down at George, wiped a smudge of dirt from his forehead. His eyes fluttered
open.

“
Quieres ser mi mamá
?” he whispered. Will you be my mommy?

Her heart squeezed and she closed her eyes at the thought of having a child. Pain
ripped through her gut.

Why, at the thought of being a mommy, had Logan’s face appeared in her mind?

Don’t kid yourself. You know why.

They’d almost been parents once.

…

Logan locked the front door of his row house and stood on the stoop, ready to head
off to work. A late-evening breeze made the night colder than usual and he pulled
up the collar of his leather jacket to block the chill. Dim streetlights and porch
lights lit the sidewalk and neighboring stoops, and an occasional car sped down the
side street.

For the tenth time in the last hour, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Keely’s
name. Being with Keely over the last twenty-four hours had not only triggered memories
of them being together but had affected him as a man and as a person. She wasn’t just
the girlfriend he’d once dumped, but an attractive woman—competent and caring. Everything
he’d ever hoped she’d grow up to be.

She didn’t think Ben’s attack was simply a robbery, and neither did he. So what? That
didn’t mean she should insist on joining his private investigation. He thumbed over
her number, but still didn’t press Call.

His shift started in thirty minutes. If he got to the station early, he could read
the report on Ben’s attack again. Maybe he’d missed something the first time. He closed
his Contacts list, palmed the phone, and pressed the button on his car key to unlock
his SUV.

His phone rang. A glance at the screen revealed Keely’s name and number. An odd fluttering
twisted in his gut. He connected the call.

“Can you get me into the city jail?” Keely asked, surprising the heck out of him.

“It’s what I do for a living. What’s the charge?”

Silence. Then she laughed. A sweet sound he hadn’t heard in years. A sound that brought
memories screaming back to his head. Keely in the park, happy and jumping into his
arms, Keely dancing on the sidewalk as he cranked his car radio.

“Very funny,” she said. “I mean to visit someone. I had to pull two kids out of an
abusive home today, but one of them wasn’t there. The dad was arrested, but he said
his oldest daughter
ran away. She’s only eight, though. Maybe he can tell me more, now that he’s had some
time to cool off
. I could go through the paperwork of a jail—”

“No need. I’ll get you in.” He let himself smile. Keely could have called any of the
cops she worked with on a regular basis, but she’d called him.

He knew almost everything about her, knew what she’d been up to these past few years.
He’d followed her progress through UMBC’s five-year master’s program to her first
job at the Department of Social Services. Keely put her heart and soul into saving
children. Helping her out with a case was the least he could do.

“Around noon tomorrow? I’m bringing Dad home from the hospital, then running to church
to find some files.”

“Why are you looking at files?” he asked.

“Looking for leads about who would attack Dad.”

Damn her
. Why wasn’t he surprised? But he knew Keely. She’d probably go off half-cocked, digging
around the neighborhood for information. Maybe it was time he included her, if only
to keep her safe.

It was either that, or risk her getting hurt.

And he’d never let Keely get hurt again.

…

The next morning, Keely parked her compact car in the front of the hospital, stepped
outside into the crisp fall sunshine, and dashed to the sidewalk to help Dave with
a knapsack of Ben’s clothes.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” The church’s office manager wore a casual blazer over a black
T-shirt that covered his slight paunch. He was standing next to her father, who sat
in a wheelchair at the hospital entrance. Dave had a hand on Ben’s shoulder, holding
him down, and Ben looked annoyed and impatient. She wanted to chide her father for
acting petulant—Dave was only doing what he was supposed to do, which was to keep
her dad settled down until she was able to bring the car around—but she wouldn’t have
liked to have anyone pushing her around, either.

Her father’s eyes were tinged deep purplish-black and his right eyebrow had dark black
stitches that made him look angry. Earlier in the morning, after spending the night
at the hospital again, she’d helped him dress. He’d been so battered he hadn’t even
been able to put on his usual jeans. Instead, he wore loose-fitting gray sweatpants
and a black Baltimore Ravens hooded sweatshirt. Easier to put on and softer against
his bruised body.

Ben stood, slowly walked to Keely’s Civic, then lowered himself, using the door for
leverage. “Oh.” He paled and grabbed his midsection while his free hand gripped the
door.

Keely bolted forward.

“No. I’ll do it. Forgot about these darn ribs.”

She bit her lip. Not only his ribs, but the bruises that covered his entire body.
He tried to mask it, but his stiff movement made his pain clear.

“Listen, Ben, you sit in your chair and take it easy,” Dave said. “After I make sure
you’re settled, I’m heading over to church to check on things. I’ll worry about work
stuff, you concentrate on healing yourself.”

Dave was basically saying the same things to her dad as she was, but Keely didn’t
much like his dictatorial approach. But maybe that’s what her father needed right
now. Otherwise Ben would go back to his normal routine and not give his body time
to heal.

After getting her father settled into the front and Dave in the back, she slid into
the driver’s seat and started the engine. Her dad shifted to face her. “Where’s Logan?”

“Probably getting some sleep,” she said. “He was on nightshift last night.”

“Is that how he found out about my attack? He was on duty?”

She swerved to avoid a pothole. Never before had she been so aware of the need for
repaving in Baltimore. “I’m not sure.”

“Nice of him to stop by like that.”

She turned her head slowly to look at him, then flicked her attention back to the
road. “You make it sound like he dropped by for dinner.”

His lips maneuvered into a small smile. “I like him, that’s all.”

Time to change the subject. “I’m going to talk to some of your neighbors to see if
they saw anything suspicious the day of your attack.”
Attack
. A word she heard at work. A word she heard on the local news. Not a word she ever
thought she’d hear associated with her dad.

“Probably a crime of opportunity, that’s all,” Dave said from the backseat. “We do
what we can with these young people, but not all of them are smart enough to stay
out of trouble.”

Dave was probably right, but she couldn’t help the sensation burning in her gut that
something was off about the robbery. The whole briefcase thing was too specific to
be a random act. Keely pulled in front of her dad’s house and turned off the engine.
She got out of the car and hurried to his side, but he already had a foot out the
door.