Читать книгу The Truth about Family - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

COLIN BARRETT’S SUV lumbered through puddles of slushy mud as he made his way carefully to Caroline Walker’s house. It was near nightfall and the rain had quickly turned to sleet with the promise of a full-blown, nasty snowstorm on the wind, but his wipers were doing a valiant job trying to keep his windshield clear and as long as he could still see, he wasn’t turning back.

A woman was coming all the way from San Francisco for this dog; the least he could do was make sure it hadn’t caught pneumonia by the time she got here.

He pulled onto the long, dirt driveway, his tires slipping a little in the mud, and turned the spotlight on. The dog, eyes reflecting the light, rose painfully to her feet from her place on the porch but managed to wag her tail in welcome.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, knowing from the dog’s stiff gait it wasn’t accustomed to staying outside for long periods of time. Caroline had probably let the dog out while she went with Charlie, figuring she’d only be gone for about an hour.

Colin pulled his slicker over his head and climbed out of the vehicle, narrowly missing a puddle that looked as if the Loch Ness monster could easily take a few laps in, and reached behind his seat for the control pole he’d borrowed from the animal control officer.

He walked slowly, offering soothing words of welcome until the old girl sniffed his hand and then gave him a warm lick with her tongue. Smoothing her damp fur, he started to slip the nylon loop around her neck but thought better of it. This dog was no Cujo, that was for sure.

“We don’t need this, do we, girl?”

She licked her chops and stared up at him expectantly. She was probably wondering where her master was, and if her dinner was coming, Colin realized.

“She’s on her way,” he said, feeling only slightly ridiculous for trying to make a dog feel better.

Suddenly his radio crackled to life.

“SR4, ten-nineteen.”

Return to station?

“This is SR4, ten-four.” Holstering his radio, he made quick work of getting the dog settled in the vehicle and jumped in himself.

Once inside, he switched to his Nextel for privacy.

“Hey, Joe, this is Colin. What’s going on?” he asked the dispatcher.

“Sorry, Colin, but Danni was hauled in while you were heading out to the Walker place. Thought you’d want to know right away.”

As soon as he heard his daughter’s name he felt a flush travel up his neck that was surely a result of his blood pressure hitting the ceiling. He bit back an oath, needing a moment before he was able to speak again without clenching his teeth. “I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later he was sliding his ID card into the back door of the police station, silently fuming. It had taken every ounce of training he possessed not to speed down the snow-covered streets of the quiet town as he drove to pick up his only child. This was becoming an all-too frequent occurrence and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Hey, Col.” Joe Boland waved and gestured toward the holding cell. But before he could enter, Joe stopped him, his face grave. “They had to book her this time. I’m sorry.”

Colin pressed his lips together but nodded in understanding. “With what?”

“Possession,” he answered. When Colin swore and shook his head, Joe tried lessening the blow. “It was just a bit of weed—a misdemeanor—but she’s going to have to go to court. I think Marty’s already processed the citation, you can probably take her home.”

Colin thanked Joe for his help. This wasn’t the first time Danni had been caught hanging with a group of kids with a shady reputation, but the officers had let her off with a warning. This time, Colin knew, she’d gone too far. He couldn’t expect his buddies to keep covering for her. It wasn’t right. The law was the law.

A sense of loss filled him as he pushed open the holding cell door. Where was his little girl? And was she ever coming back?

Colin’s heart contracted at the sight of Danni slumped in the metal-backed chair, chewing at the cuticle on her index finger as she stared glumly at the dull metal table. She looked up as he entered the room, her expression changing quickly to the picture of defiance but not before he saw the relief in her eyes. Colin ignored the pain that lanced through him and made a curt gesture for them to leave. “Let’s go. You’re supposed to be at your Aunt Sara’s. She’s probably worried sick.”

“Yeah, right.” Danni shoved away from the table, the legs scraping against the old tile floor, as she shouldered her backpack and stalked past Colin with more attitude than an MTV diva on concert night.

“An attitude like that won’t land you anywhere but more trouble, young lady,” he said to her back as they walked out of the station and into the biting cold. He hit the automatic door lock on his key ring and both locks popped up in unison. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there? The weather alone made it dangerous, never mind the company you’ve recently taken up with. And what about your homework? Or the fact that you have school tomorrow?”

“Whatever.” Danni jerked the door open and slid in, noticing after she took her seat that there was a dog in the back. Startled, she dropped her scowl long enough to give him a questioning look. “What’s with the dog?”

“The shelter’s closed and, as you can tell, there’s a bad storm. I didn’t want her to freeze to death,” he answered, amazed he was able to keep from yelling. He was so mad he was shaking.

“How sweet,” she said, reverting back to the sour-faced teen that he’d found sitting at the station. She gave the dog a long look then wrinkled her nose. “It smells like wet dog in here.”

“And you smell like cigarettes and stale beer,” he returned. “Frankly, I think I prefer the smell of the dog.”

The black look he received was completely out of place on the face of his thirteen-year-old daughter and made him wish that he could turn back time—to change what had gone so horribly wrong between them.

But he couldn’t and because of that he could feel her slipping further and further away from him with each sullen glare, each angry exchange. Lately, she seemed to hate him.

They drove home in silence, the endless swish of the wipers the only sound between them. Colin risked a glance at his daughter as she leaned against the window frame, her cheek resting against the cool glass. Her profile, so much like her mother’s, made him ache. Danielle had been classically beautiful, yet her delicate features could not have hinted at the vulnerability hiding in her fragile mind. Years ago, geneticists had warned him that Danielle may have handed down her condition to their only daughter. Colin swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat. All he could do was hope that Danni had dodged that bullet.

Putting the SUV into Park, he turned to tell Danni to go straight to bed, but she hadn’t waited for instruction. She was already out of the truck and stomping her way through the snow to the front door. By the time Colin made it to the house she was already ensconced in her bedroom with the door closed firmly behind her.

“Well, girl,” he said to the dog, which to his best guess looked to be some kind of yellow lab cross, her face nearly white with age. “It’s just you and me. How about something to eat?”

The dog looked up at him with big brown eyes that were sweet and trusting and he found himself hoping that Erin McNulty didn’t flake on the poor thing. He didn’t know her from Adam but she made it pretty clear that coming home to Granite Hills was as appealing as having a nail pounded into her foot. He went to the fridge and pulled out some ground beef he’d planned to make into burgers tomorrow and crumbled some into a bowl for the dog. He’d hate to have to put her into the shelter. By the way she moved, stiff and slow, it looked as if she had some level of hip dysplasia. If the McNulty woman pulled a no-show and he had to check her into the shelter, the odds were slim that she’d find a home. He wasn’t a bleeding heart, by any means, but he didn’t like the thought of putting the old girl down.

“It ain’t steak but it’s better than nothing,” he murmured, giving the dog a gentle pat on the head as she bent down to eat what was offered. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. At least someone would go to bed happy. His gaze strayed to his daughter’s closed door, knowing that he was, no doubt, playing center stage as the villain in his little girl’s dreams, and his brief moment of satisfaction evaporated. After placing a bowl of water on the kitchen floor, he retired to the small room he’d converted to an office, wishing he could sleep but knowing that he couldn’t. Despite the late hour, he sighed as he picked up the phone and made a quick call to his sister so that she wouldn’t worry. With Sara’s husband in Iraq and a six-month-old to care for, she certainly didn’t need the grief Danni was dishing out on a daily basis to everyone she felt had betrayed her.

A box of chamomile tea sat unopened on his desk, part of a care package his mother had sent. He wasn’t much interested in it, but his mother swore by chamomile when things looked rough. She said it had a soothing touch. He eyed the box without much hope. He knew what he needed wasn’t in that box but at this point he was starting to feel a little desperate.

God, he missed his parents. They’d bought a condo in Florida last year in search of warmer climates. With her arthritis getting worse each year, Ma said she couldn’t take the winters here anymore. They were coming back for the summer, but it just wasn’t the same without them. Although his sisters lived close by, they were busy with their own lives and he hated to bother them with the problems he was having with Danni. Turning to face the large bay window, he watched as Mother Nature did her level best to ensure that Granite Hills was buried under a soft layer of snow come morning. Colin thought of the McNulty woman and wondered if her flight would be delayed due to the weather.

He closed his eyes to relieve the burning behind them and briefly thought about giving that damn tea a shot. He needed sleep but he knew that if he went to bed he’d just end up tossing and turning, punching his pillow in frustration or staring at the ceiling. He was only thirty-six but he felt one hundred. The last few weeks with Danni had been hell.

And he blamed himself. He should’ve told Danni the truth a long time ago but he’d chickened out. Now, the secret was out and his daughter hated him for it.

A seemingly innocuous slip of paper, he mused bitterly, had driven a wedge between him and his only child.

How many times since that afternoon had he wished he’d burned it the moment it’d been put in his hands? A dozen, a hundred, a million? Countless. But he hadn’t. Like an idiot he’d put it in his file cabinet and forgotten about it.

Until he came home one day three weeks ago to find Danni standing in his office, holding it in her hand, her eyes full of wounded disbelief, demanding an answer.

“What is this!” Danni had screeched, tears streaming down her cheeks, jerking the paper away just as he’d reached for it—no, grabbed at it—in horror. “You lied! You said she died in a car accident when I was a baby but she didn’t!” She thrust the document at him, the broken-hearted look reflecting back at him nearly sent him to his knees apologizing. “This says she died five years ago—” her voice dropped and wavered, suddenly sounding much younger “—of a drug overdose.”

He’d tried grasping the death certificate she’d waved under his nose but she’d jerked it away, scanning it as if it would somehow reveal the truth to her as he had not.

“Danni, you don’t understand…it’s complicated,” Colin tried explaining, but Danni wasn’t interested in the reasons. “I was going to tell you when you got older, but the time never seemed right…I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

“But you lied,” Danni wailed, the tears falling unchecked to splash down the front of her shirt in wet splotches. “All that time… I could have known her. I wanted to know her! You didn’t have the right!”

The rise in Danni’s voice bordered on hysteria, reminding him of Danielle for a split second and panic fueled his reaction. “Like hell I didn’t!” he roared, his hands curling in his vehemence. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought for control but it was too late.

Face pale and lower lip trembling, Danni pulled away when he tried reaching for her and fled the room.

The echoed slam of her bedroom door reverberated in his memory. Lately, the sound of a slamming door was just about the only communication between them. Colin understood her rage, the sense of betrayal, but he’d had no choice.

He stared grimly at the gently falling snow out his bay window. That saying “the road to hell was paved with good intentions” could be tattooed across his forehead. His intentions had been good. He’d wanted to tell Danni the truth when she were older. Old enough to handle it. Instead, fate had different plans and here he was up to his eyeballs in misery because of it.

Colin dropped his head into his hands and drew a painful breath. The fact of the matter was it had been easier to tell Danni that her mama had died from a car accident than a drug overdose. And it sure was a lot easier than telling his little girl that her mother had tried to kill her.