about Tommy.”
She looked up with a start. Gabe had risen from the chair and stood beside it now. He looked huge and intimidating.
“What about Tommy?” she asked in a hesitant whisper.
He sat again, this time beside her on the sofa. His presence so near was even more disturbing. She swallowed.
“Al told me he stopped talking after the incident. Before, I gather he was like most four-year-olds I know who babble a blue streak.”
“Your own kids?” she blurted, then wondered why she’d said it.
He laughed. “No, I’m not married, never was and never had any kids. But I’m an uncle several times over—sort of. It’s a little complicated.”
He obviously didn’t want her to ask how, so she didn’t. But she felt ridiculously relieved that he appeared to have no closer ties than unclehood.
“Yes,” she replied to his question. “Tommy talked a lot until the…incident, as you call it. He hasn’t said a word since.”
“He hasn’t told even you what he saw?”
Hoarsely, she said, “No. But Al…I was assured that Tommy couldn’t have seen the murder, or someone as horrible as the murderer would have…hurt him, too.”
Gabe nodded. “Could be. But it also might not be.”
Holly stared at him. She had to look up, even though he was sitting beside her, to see into his unflinching eyes.
He was right, of course. But she had wanted so much to believe what Al had said….
“We need to get him to talk,” Gabe said, “just in case.”
“I agree,” Holly replied shakily. “Whatever he did or didn’t see, he won’t be able to start healing from losing Thomas unless he can talk about it.”
And if, incidentally, what Tommy said led to Thomas’s killer… No! Despite Holly’s inclinations to get involved, to help, that was police business. She, and most particularly her son, would stay out of it. Far out of it.
“Also, just in case…” Gabe moved closer to her on the sofa and took her hand. His was warm, and it dwarfed hers. But because of the nature of their conversation, it was anything but comforting. “I’d suggest you keep a close watch on Tommy. Don’t leave him with anyone unless you have to, and if you do, make sure it’s someone you trust. Without knowing for certain the motive for Thomas’s murder and the battery on Sheldon, we can’t be sure—”
“You don’t really think someone we know did this.” Holly made her words a statement, though she knew they were untrue. Her feet were on the floor now, and her back was stiff and straight. She looked toward the closed draperies, and not at the man beside her who, although gentle, did not allow her to pull her hand away. “No one we know is so hard up they’d kill for a few dollars from a cash register. They’d know they could come to us for a loan, and—”
“That’s assuming the money wasn’t just taken to make us think robbery was the motive.”
“Oh.”
Gabe squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Holly. For everything.”
He really sounded sorry, though he had done nothing to cause any of her pain. She appreciated that. She appreciated how kind this man seemed to be, and how he had been so disclosing about the investigation, despite not knowing much yet.
So gentle in warning her to protect her son.
“We’ll catch the murderer,” he continued. “But in the meantime…”
His voice trailed off, and she looked at him.
He was watching her. She felt unnerved. She wanted to rise and recapture her hand and tell him it was time to leave.
But she didn’t.
“In the meantime?” she asked, her voice low and hoarse. She watched his face. It was a strong and masculine face. Angular in all the right places, and very handsome.
Very intense. Too intense. Too sexy. But still she didn’t look away.
“In the meantime,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering, “I want you to tell me anything you need. Anything.”
He blinked then, obviously hearing what he had said and realizing how suggestively it could be interpreted.
He released her hand and cleared his throat. He stood and looked over her shoulder, not directly at her. “What I mean,” he said, “is what I told you before. I’ve directed everyone on the force to make sure you’re treated like a member of the family. You just tell one of us whatever you need. Like I said earlier, chores, repairs, we’ll do them. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said, not even attempting to repress the giggle in her voice now that the intensity of the moment had ended. That had undoubtedly been all he had meant all along. She had just read him wrong, hadn’t she?
She considered saying something light and teasing, to ease them over the moment. But before she could, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye.
Tommy stood silently at the door to the living room, watching them. Tears were running down his face.
Chapter Three
“Hey, sport.” Gabe’s heart went out to the quietly crying child. “Did you have a bad dream?”
He nodded solemnly, one small hand clenched into a fist at his side and the other rubbing his eyes. He wore a baggy yellow pajama top and matching shorts that revealed his thin legs. His feet were bare.
“Oh, Tommy.” Holly headed across the room toward her son. She lifted him into her arms, nuzzling him.
For an instant, Gabe envied the little boy.
He joined them by the door and looked down at Tommy, who’d laid his head on his mother’s shoulder. There was a vague clean scent around him, like baby powder or soap.
It blended well with the fragrance hinting sweetly of luscious fruit that wafted gently about his mother.
Tommy’s dark hair was about the same shade as Holly’s. Gabe had thought so, but he hadn’t seen their hair so close together before. Tommy’s was mussed from sleep.
Holly’s was skillfully mussed, thanks to the artful look of her sexy hairstyle.
“Would you like to tell me about your dream?” Gabe asked, putting two fingers on Tommy’s damp cheek. “Sometimes it feels better if you talk about it.”
But Tommy didn’t move, except to close his eyes. Tears still streamed down his face. Holly rocked him gently.
“Okay, I’ve a better idea,” Gabe said. “How about if I read you a story?”
The small head rose, and Tommy smiled through his tears.
“That’s
