than Jared, are they?”
“Not if the conversation I had with Detective Simpson was any indication.” Anger burned in his gut all over again at the thought of the cop’s incompetence. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to running into with most law-enforcement personnel.
“Then I’d like to expand your job.”
He stared at her. “In what way?”
“I don’t understand the detective’s attitude, given that there are literally dozens of people who might have wanted my father dead. So you look into them. Heck, I can give you ten names off the top of my head just to get you started.”
“That’s probably not a great way to spend your money. It’s likely to cost you a fortune and still not net you the results you’re looking for.”
“I don’t care about the money. The police aren’t doing their job, so I want you to do it for them.”
“You do understand, don’t you, that I have no authority to compel anyone to answer my questions? If people don’t want to talk to me there’s not a helluva lot I can do to make them. It’s why private detectives rarely get involved in murder cases. We have neither the jurisdiction nor the contacts the cops do.”
She met his eyes and her lips curled up in a faint smile. “Yet you’ll do it anyway, won’t you?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “If that’s what you want. What the hell, I enjoy a good challenge.” Leaning back in his chair, he studied her. “It’s your money, of course, but if you don’t want to find all your resources going into my pockets, you might consider acting as my entree to the folks in your world. I’m not exactly the country-club type.”
She considered him for a moment. “No, you aren’t. Does it really matter?”
“Only in that water-finding-its-own-level kind of way. Chances are better than decent that without an introduction from you, most of that crowd will be leery about talking to me.” Or, more likely, flat-out refuse.
“All right.”
“All right they’ll be leery or all right you’ll—”
“I’ll perform the introductions.”
“Don’t agree without giving it some thought,” he warned. “It could turn out to be time-consuming.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care how time-consuming it is.” She rose to her feet and looked down at him. “If that’s what it takes to clear Jared and get on with our lives, then that’s what I’ll do. Just let me know what you need.”
He thought about that as he watched her walk from the office—about letting her know what he needed. Oh, Mama. Then he thought about getting on with his life, and a less-than-amused laugh escaped him. Shit. He would’ve been all over that concept two days ago. Now he found himself with a daughter he hadn’t known existed and didn’t have a clue what to do with. Not to mention a persistent lech for a woman who only wanted him to untangle her brother’s problem, then disappear. Get on with his life…His ass!
He didn’t even know what the hell that meant anymore.
CHAPTER SIX
JARED STOOD OUTSIDE THE SPOT, silently reciting a variation of the pep talk his baseball coach always gave the team before a game. He’d heard about the drop-in recreational center when he’d eavesdropped on a conversation between a couple of kids hustling for change on the 16th Street Mall. His ears had perked up when he’d heard one of them claim it was possible to hang out there from five in the evening until ten. The prospect of having a solid five hours before he had to move on made him feel almost giddy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a solid block of time to simply sit in one place, never mind sleep. He didn’t even care about the activities the rec center might offer. All he wanted was somewhere he could stay put for a while. It seemed like every time he got halfway comfortable, he had to pick up and move.
He stood to the side of the door for several minutes and watched some Hispanic guys horse around inside the center. Then, drawing a deep breath, he took a step toward the opening.
“You don’t wanna go in there,” a husky voice said from behind him and Jared jerked to a stop, looking over his shoulder. A kid, so slight of build he looked as if a stiff breeze might blow him away, detached himself from the shadows cast by the side of the building. Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, he jerked his pointed chin toward the group of boys inside the rec hall. “That’s one of the local gangs,” he told Jared. “They have a tendency to run off anyone not one of their homeboys.”
“Shit.” Disappointment was a massive stone around his neck. God, he was tired. He was so freaking tired and he just wished he could go home.
Tears burned behind his eyelids, prickled his nasal passage and he turned his back so the kid with the funny, raspy voice wouldn’t catch sight of them and think he was a damn baby. “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said gruffly. Blowing out a weary breath, he trudged away from the place that for one brief, shining moment he’d believed might actually provide a few hours of sanctuary.
“Hey, wait up!” The kid caught up and gave him a friendly nudge. “What’s your name? I seen you around, here and there. I’m P.J.” He dug a grimy hand into his pocket and pulled out a candy bar. “You want half?”
Jared surreptitiously knuckled away a couple of tears that managed to leak past his guard. Glancing at the kid from the corner of his eye, he saw him studiously looking the other way and thought maybe he wasn’t the only one who succumbed to the occasional overwhelming bout of helplessness. For some reason, the realization made a difference, and after a swipe of his nose with his shirttail, he squared his shoulders. “Yeah. Sure.” He was careful when he reached out to accept the portion of candy bar P.J. offered, because what he really wanted to do was snatch it out of the little guy’s hand. He couldn’t quite remember when he’d last eaten. He’d killed off the brandy last night, but hadn’t had any solid food since long before then. Resisting the urge to stuff the entire candy bar in his mouth, he took a small bite. “Thanks.”
“No problem. So, you never told me your name.”
“Jared.”
“That’s prett—uh, a good name.” He cleared his throat, but his voice was even raspier than before when he said, “What were you hoping to get outta The Spot, Jared?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Someplace to just…be, I guess. Do you know what I mean? I just wanted somewhere I didn’t have to leave the minute I got settled.” He noticed the griminess of his own hand as he brought up the candy for another bite. “And I’d sure like a shower. Maybe I oughtta go to the Salvation Army, after all.” He’d been avoiding those kind of shelters, for fear someone might recognize his face. The truth was, though, he didn’t even know if he’d been on the news here. What was hot news in Colorado Springs might not be worth mentioning in Denver. And he was rapidly reaching the point where he could hardly stand his own smell.
“Trust me,” P.J. interrupted his thoughts, “you wanna steer clear of the S.A. Way too many mean sum-bitches there.”
“The Salvation Army isn’t safe?” Jared stared at P.J. in shock. “Aren’t those the people who ring bells and say ‘God bless’ when you drop money in their collection pots
