dipped his head and walked in. He followed his brother past the living room to the kitchen, where a woman closed the dishwasher then turned to study him.
“Another MacLachlan,” she said with a small laugh. “Nobody could mistake you.”
He stiffened at that, but only said, “You must be Jane.”
“Yes. I’ll leave you two to talk, but I wanted to meet you.” She smiled and came to him, her hand outstretched. “Hello, Conall.”
She was a beauty. Not like Lia, but definitely classy. She moved like a dancer, toes slightly turned out, had a mass of glossy brown hair bundled carelessly at her nape, and deep blue eyes that were friendly but also watchful.
Suddenly amused, Conall suspected that if Duncan hadn’t been present, she’d have issued dire warnings. Hurt my husband and you’re dead meat. Strangely, he was pleased. She loved his big tough brother, who was a lucky son of a bitch.
Conall took her hand, but instead of shaking it he drew her to him and kissed her cheek. “It’s a pleasure, Jane.”
She eyed his deliberately charming smile with suspicion as she withdrew, heightening his amusement. Yeah, she might even be a match for Duncan. Go figure.
She excused herself, leaving the two men alone.
“Have you eaten?” Duncan asked.
“Yes.”
“Coffee?”
“Thanks.” He sat on one of the breakfast bar stools and rested his elbows on the counter. “Nice place.”
Duncan nodded.
“Baby asleep?”
“Yeah, she just went down for the night.”
“There’s a baby at the place I’m staying.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. “Eight months, I think. Happy little thing.”
“Fiona isn’t quite that.”
He knew exactly how old Duncan’s daughter was. He’d looked at the baby announcement in amazement when it arrived, and later the one photo Duncan sent. Until today, Duncan never commented on the fact that he didn’t hear back from Conall. Into the vacuum he kept sending a very occasional letter, things like the wedding invitation and then the birth announcement, sometimes a Christmas card. Conall had never figured out why he bothered.
Now…he thought maybe they were a trail of bread crumbs, offering a way home. The idea unsettled him, maybe because here he was.
Not home. Not anymore.
It hadn’t been in a long time. The trouble was, he didn’t exactly have a home. He’d never made one.
Didn’t want one.
“I’d like to see her.” Strangely, he realized he really did. See what MacLachlan blood wrought in the next generation.
“How long are you going to be around?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what we find. Or don’t find.”
Duncan inclined his head. He brought two mugs of coffee to the bar and sat, too, a couple of stools away from Conall. “So tell me about it.”
They talked then, both professionals, Conall expressing some of his irritation with the vagueness of the information he’d been given. “You know anything about the people in that house?” he asked.
His brother shook his head. “No. The owner does something in the oil business. He worked up at the refinery in Anacortes, but I hear he got transferred to Texas, and couldn’t sell the house as quick as he needed to. Real estate is slow right now.”
Real estate was slow right now everywhere.
“So he and his wife are renting the place out for now. It can’t be cheap, that’s a big house.”
“You actually know it,” Conall said slowly.
Duncan’s eyes, razor sharp, met his. “I’ve driven or walked every street in my city.”
“You didn’t herniate a disk driving that one?”
Duncan grinned. “A few potholes? Are you such a city boy now you can’t deal with ’em?”
“These damn things have to be a foot deep. I’d kick in some bucks to the cause of filling them, except I don’t want Lia to have to go knocking on her neighbors’ doors right now.”
“Lia?” His brother frowned. “Lia Woods? That’s who you’re staying with?”
“That’s her.”
“Foster kids?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Huh.” Duncan became pensive.
“What? You know her?” He set down his cup hard enough to splash. “You had a thing with her?”
That earned him a startled look. “God, no. I’ve never met the woman. At least, I don’t think I have. No, I heard something.” He hesitated. “Probably nothing I should repeat.”
Conall snorted. “Hell, no, you’re not doing that. You think I can’t be close-mouthed?”
“I don’t want you, as a federal agent, to feel like you have to do something about it.”
About…what? He sifted through the possibilities. Lia wouldn’t still be licensed if this had anything to do with the children in her care. Say, an accident, or alleged abuse, or…
“She’s got more kids than we were told she had.”
Duncan’s gaze, steady, met his. “Hispanic?”
“Yeah.” Conall laughed. “Oh, man. They’re illegals.”
“I, uh, heard a rumor and made the decision not to check it out. Most of the time we don’t get involved in immigration issues. I don’t want anyone to be afraid to talk to us because they think we’ll get them deported.”
Conall nodded. Maybe that was why Arturo hadn’t spoken at all at the dinner table. If he was Spanish-speaking, he probably hadn’t understood a word anyone said.
“I assume the county or whoever licenses her doesn’t know this.”
“I assume not. And that’s if it’s true. It may not be.”
“Oh, I’d bet it is. Phillips didn’t know anything about the two littlest kids she has, except that she told him they were real temporary. He figured it was a receiving home thing.” Conall laughed again. “No wonder she hasn’t been as warm and welcoming as she could be.”
“She can’t be thrilled with the arrangement anyway. She’s got two men moving in with her. Must be awkward as
