bringing unsuitable men into the house, and when I assured her I wasn’t, she said he had to be learning his filthy language from me. Which, she went on to tell me, made me an unfit parent.”
“She was always a vengeful bitch.”
She’d tried to get Brandon fired after Rick’s death and throughout the follow-up investigation. Because of the Leiths’ clout with South Carolina’s movers and shakers, it had been a serious threat. He’d had to deal not only with his grief over losing his best friend and the threat of losing the job he loved, but also second-guessing his judgment because he’d let Rick talk him out of following protocol.
“I’m a good parent, Brandon. I do my best to provide for my children. I never leave them unsupervised, and I send them to the best after-school program I can afford. But I saw a friend who was an excellent parent lose custody of her children when her ex-husband manufactured things. What he accused her of wasn’t true, but it cast enough doubt for her to end up with supervised visitation only. Like the Leiths, he’s loaded and connected, and like me, my friend doesn’t have the money to fight. I’m trying to give the Leiths as much access to the grandchildren as I can to keep them happy, but I’m afraid of what Rick’s mom can do with the ammunition Mason is unwittingly giving her.”
The fear in her eyes was genuine, and he understood her concern. He’d seen exactly what she described—great parents losing custody. “Hannah, I witnessed the way you ‘mothered’ for your first five years of parenthood. If that hasn’t changed, there’s no way you could be considered a bad parent.”
“Thank you for saying that. But I can’t risk it. In her grief Mrs. Leith doesn’t always...think rationally. And her friends have clout. I don’t.”
Being a single parent with no backup had to be hard. His family was close. He had his mom and dad, two sisters and two brothers-in-law he could call on at any time for anything. Not that he had ever asked for help, but he knew they’d be there for him if he did—the same way he’d be there for them. No questions asked. He would have been that for Hannah and her kids—if she had let him. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Which brought him back to the problem at hand.
“Was Mason running away?”
“He claims he was going to study with a friend.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and took another one of those breast-swelling breaths. He jacked his gaze north. “No. It was an hour after bedtime. Mason doesn’t make friends easily. And he refuses to tell me this supposed one’s name or where he lives. I’ve asked his teachers, and none know of any new friends he’s made.”
Rick hadn’t made friends easily, either. He’d been a late-in-life, surprise baby. The Leiths hadn’t known what to do with the child they’d brought home from the hospital or how to interact with the brilliant boy he’d become. They’d raised him to be a little adult. Seen and not heard and all that crap.
And then Brandon had come along. He’d intervened on the first day of second grade when one of the fifth graders on the bus had tried to bully the prissy new kid on their route—Rick. Brandon had given the bully a bloody nose and gained a loyal friend. Rick had become Brandon’s sidekick. He’d visited the Martins’ orchard every time Rick’s workaholic parents had let him. Out in the peach groves Rick had learned how to be a kid, how to climb trees, get dirty and make noise—all the stuff he wasn’t allowed to do at home. And Brandon had made sure his geeky buddy learned to defend himself.
Rick should have been here to teach those same lessons to his son. But he wasn’t. And if Brandon had done things differently that day—He pushed aside the familiar weight settling on his chest.
“I’d offer to speak to the Leiths for you, but I’m not high on their good list, either.” They blamed Brandon for turning their brilliant son away from a safe and lucrative, white-collar law career toward a dangerous, low-paying blue-collar law enforcement job. Mrs. Leith had said that if not for Brandon, her son would have gone to college and graduate school and he’d still be alive.
“I don’t think they like many people. But they do love my children...in their own peculiar way.”
“What do you want me to do, Hannah?”
“I need you to talk to Mason—unofficially, of course—and see if you can figure out what’s going on.”
Brandon leaned back. Here it was. The opportunity to fulfill his promise to Rick—to watch out for Rick’s family. But he was ill-equipped for the job. What if he failed? “Hannah, I know almost nothing about kids.”
“You’re my son’s godfather. You have to help.”
Guilt torqued through him. He’d been a lousy godparent. Out of respect for Hannah he’d stayed out of sight and kept tabs on Rick’s family from a distance. “How?”
“Come to dinner tomorrow—unless you have a date—and see if you can figure out what’s going on with him.”
The desperation in her face hit him hard—but not as hard as the jab about a date. Saturday night, and he’d be home alone. Again. He’d yet to find a woman he found more interesting than work. Sure, he dated. But not often. He was tired of the whole game. He met a woman. She pretended to be someone she wasn’t and swore she didn’t mind the danger of his job and didn’t want kids. Then her true colors seeped through.
“Please, Brandon.”
There was probably nothing wrong with the boy that some tough love wouldn’t cure. “I’ll be there.”
He’d never live up to the gratitude in her eyes. But he had to at least try. He owed Rick that much.
* * *
HANNAH’S GARAGE GUTTER was sagging again. Brandon cursed and slowed his truck a hundred yards from the house Saturday evening. The fascia board behind the gutter, and possibly one or more rafters, would have to be replaced, but that meant removing the old ones, painting the new ones and getting it all reassembled without getting caught.
After Hannah had ordered him to stay away from her and her family and refused multiple offers of help from other officers from SLED, Brandon had covertly organized a team of Rick’s coworkers. He and the guys were limited to working the one weekend a month when Hannah and the kids went out of town. That made complicated, multistep projects difficult to complete without getting caught.
Their clandestine activities were aided by the fact that her three-acre lot was heavily wooded, concealing the house on all sides from her neighbors, and those neighbors were the kind who minded their own business.
Privacy had been Rick’s primary reason for choosing the fixer-upper in an older area, although he had planned to clear out more trees to make a bigger lawn for the kids to play on. But he hadn’t lived long enough to finish that project or many of the others on his long list. Brandon kept the small patch of grass in the front yard weeded and fertilized, but he couldn’t do much more without revealing the team’s secret work.
He parked beneath the basketball goal “Santa” had left last Christmas then scanned the house as he traversed the walk, noting the white clapboard siding was still clean from the last pressure washing, and the shutters still looked good, too. He climbed the stairs to the small porch and pushed the button. A bell chimed inside. Seconds later the door opened. A miniature version of Hannah with big blue eyes—Rick’s
