Derek leaned forward on the table. It wouldn’t be difficult to create a sense of intimacy in such a tiny space, an intimacy that he hoped would make Hannah more comfortable. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, but you can still talk to me.”
She sipped again. “You always were a good listener. I liked that about you.” A tentative smile wobbled across her face.
“I liked listening to you.”
“Mallory confirmed that I was probably adopted, like you said. It’s just so hard to believe, so she pulled my birth certificate from my personnel file. She pointed out that the date of my birth and the issue date of the certificate were a year apart, a discrepancy that only happens when a birth certificate is amended by an adoption finalization.” A tear leaked down her cheek, and she retrieved the paper towel from her pocket to dab it away.
He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Okay.”
“I’m in my twenties, and my parents never told me? And what about Michael, my brother? Is he adopted?”
Derek just shrugged. It was probably best he not say anything but give her time and space to talk.
“You know Michael. You two hung out in high school.” Hannah paused, her face screwed up in an expression of contemplation. “He so obviously looks like Father that I doubt he’s adopted as well. But did he know all these years that I was adopted?”
“Does it matter?” He turned his mug around, studying all the sides. “It sounds like you don’t know for sure, so let’s not jump to any conclusions.”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” She flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder and stood. “I need to go talk to my parents. Immediately. They need to tell me the truth.”
“Now?” He mentally ran through a few scenarios. Going to Hannah’s parents’ house was actually a good idea. Houses like the McClarnon mansion always had top-of-the-line security in place, as well as a household staff. And he was definitely in favor of vacating the last place the shooter had seen them both—right here, outside this law office in downtown Heartwood Hill.
“Yes. Now. It’s Monday evening, so they’ll be at home.” She checked her watch. “Right about now, Mother will be supervising the washing of the supper dishes before the maid goes home, and Father will be reading a classic novel, something like Dickens or Hugo or Tolstoy. He meticulously sets aside a half hour each night to read and refuses to be interrupted. Lafayette is less than an hour away, so I can make it before it gets too late.” She had one foot pointed toward the door. “I’ll just grab my bag.”
“Are they really that predictable?”
“For years now. They have a schedule, and they stick to it.” Hannah lowered her voice to a man’s husky pitch. “‘That’s how you get ahead.’ That’s what my father always says.”
He couldn’t let her go by herself, not with that attack earlier. His assignment was to protect her at all costs and that’s exactly what he’d be doing. “I’ll drive you. That doesn’t sound like a conversation you should have alone.” At her startled look, he continued. “I won’t say anything, but at least you’ll have someone by your side and a listening ear when all is done. And I can keep you safe as we travel. Just in case.”
Her expression softened, the fine lines around her eyes crinkling with appreciation. “I guess you are my law-enforcement hero. Between the shooter and then the information about being adopted, I’m a little shaken.” She held up her small, delicate hands. “Okay, a lot shaken. Overwhelmed, really. I could use the company.”
Hannah retrieved her purse, and they rode the elevator down to the first floor. With the parking lot clear of present danger, Derek ushered Hannah back to his Ford Escape.
This was a turn of events he had anticipated, but that didn’t ease the nervous wrenching in his gut now that the moment had arrived. He was to come face-to-face with Hannah’s father again, after the first, and only time, they had ever spoken. Without a doubt, he still wasn’t good enough for their polite society, despite the badge and title he now proudly carried.
Lord, give me strength and wisdom with the McClarnons.
He never thought he would see them again, and now he was bringing their daughter back with a potentially deadly situation in tow.
As they sped down Interstate 65 toward her parents’ home, Hannah prayed for strength and wisdom and comfort. Being a victim of violence was unheard of in her circles. Her father kept weapons in the house, but she’d never really been around them. And learning that she was adopted had upset her more than she wanted to admit. She loved her parents more than anyone on the face of the planet and wanted to please them, but now that she knew she was adopted, then what? Who was she? And who were her parents?
She tugged her purse off the floor of Derek’s SUV and dug around for the mints she always carried. The corner of a package scraped her hand. She grasped it and pulled out the box that had arrived in her mailbox earlier that day. Without time then, she had grabbed the package from the mail on her way to the interview and stashed it in her bag to open later. Centered on her lap, she studied the computer-generated return-address label that said it was from “Dad.” That was a little odd since he had always been “Father.” Hannah couldn’t recall a time she had ever called him by that casual moniker.
She placed her bag back on the floor and wiggled a finger under the corner of the wrapping. Maybe this was some kind of affirmation from him, some acceptance of her desire for a career in law. It was doubtful, but a girl could hope.
Derek ceased his scanning of the road around them long enough to glance at the package. His eyebrows lifted into question marks, but he remained silent. Hannah appreciated that he wouldn’t pry, but there was no harm in telling him. He had never met her father, and her father knew nothing of their secret romance in high school, so perhaps it would help him if he knew a bit of the man going in.
“I received this today from my father, and this is the first chance I’ve had to open it.” She tore away the paper and revealed a small box with a hinged lid. Inside, nestled in the white fabric lining, sat a wristwatch with a black leather strap and a brass case. The face was creamy white with the scales of justice engraved on it. “It’s beautiful.”
She held it out to Derek, and he glanced at it. “Nice. That was thoughtful of him.”
Hannah pulled it back and studied it. “Maybe he’s finally beginning to see that this is God’s path for me. Law school.”
“They don’t approve? Are you there against their will?”
Good question. Was she going against their will? She and her father had had their disagreement about school, but he had acquiesced. Of course, a job after graduation was another hurdle to jump. “I don’t think I’d say I’m defying them... I wouldn’t risk that. But they expect me to marry someone within their circles and then live a life of charity events and country-club dances and garden-club meetings. What they refuse to see is that I don’t want a life like that for myself. I would be so bored. So unfulfilled. I want to do more.”
“Do you doubt their faith?” he asked.
“No. I doubt their
