Her Second Chance Family Page 2

  And the woman at the door was acting mighty suspicious. She had all the signs of a woman about to faint dead away with shock.

  “Maggie Conrad?” he asked, taking off his hat, trying his best to appear nonthreatening.

  “Y-yes,” she stammered.

  Behind her a young boy, probably seven or eight, sidled up beside her. A skinny kid, he peered at Jason through thick, owlish glasses. His hair was blond like his mother’s, but short and tousled. In size and coloring he was so similar to Scott—Jason’s own son—that for a moment Jason forgot to breathe.

  The boy watched him closely. He seemed to sense his distress, absorbing it and intensifying it in his small frame. His eyes wide, he stepped back, positioning himself slightly behind his mother.

  Jason realized that he was staring, probably scaring the boy, so he brushed away the unsettling memories and returned his attention to the mother. “My name’s Jason Gallagher. I moved in last night into the house next door.” He gave a tentative smile. “Looks as though we’re neighbors.”

  “N-neighbors?” Maggie blinked, looking confused.

  Slowly the boy reached for her hand, weaving his fingers through hers, tugging gently.

  She turned to her son and, for a moment, seemed to stare at him unseeingly. Then, with a shake of her head, she looked up again and gave a slight smile. “It’s good to meet you, um...Officer Gallagher?”

  His smile deepened. “Well, actually, I’m the new chief of police in town. But why don’t you just call me Jason?”

  “The chief of police,” she repeated, a mere whisper of a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

  He took a closer look at the woman who’d caused such an unexpected reaction. She was tall, at least five foot eight, and slender. The waitress uniform hung loosely, seeming out of place on her fine bone structure. With those modellike, high cheekbones, refined features and creamy complexion, he pictured her in something soft, silky and expensive.

  She fidgeted beneath his scrutiny, biting down on her full lower lip. “Is there something you wanted?”

  Flushing, Jason wondered if she could read his thoughts. He searched his mind, trying to remember the reason for his visit. “Mail,” he said suddenly, startling her. “I’ve got some of your mail.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding, looking relieved.

  “It was in my box, mixed in with the junk mail.” He reached for the envelopes he’d tucked into his back pocket. “I almost threw these out by mistake. I hope the delay hasn’t caused you or your husband any inconvenience, Mrs.—”

  “My husband is dead,” she said quickly, dropping her gaze. “I’m a widow.”

  Jason tried not to think about the relief the words brought him. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am.”

  Hesitantly she accepted the letters. Her fingers, long and slender, grazed his palm. Her skin felt warm, although not completely soft. They looked like the hands of an artist, but were work-roughened like those of a laborer. The touch sparked a tingling of awareness. A sensual heat radiated up his arm.

  She gave a tiny gasp, telling him she, too, had been affected by the contact.

  He looked at her in surprise.

  She snatched her hand away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Th-thank you...for the mail.”

  Perhaps it was just his imagination or his cop instinct overreacting, but the longer their conversation lasted, the more uncomfortable she seemed. As though it was a strain to be near him, talk to him.

  “It’s no trouble,” he said. Trying his best to ease the situation, he focused his attention on the boy. “What’s your name, son?”

  Instead of answering, the boy just looked at his mother.

  Jason shifted uncomfortably, one foot to the other. What was going on here? Granted, some people were intimidated by a man in a uniform. But these two, hell, they looked scared to death.

  Maggie nodded, giving her son a slight smile of encouragement.

  Lifting his small chin, his glasses glittering in the morning sunlight, the boy frowned in concentration and said, “My name is Kevin Conrad. I’m seven years old.”

  “You don’t say?”

  The frown deepened. “Yes, I do.”

  Jason bit back the urge to smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Kevin.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” the boy replied politely.

  Maggie cleared her throat. “I hate to sound rude, but we’re running late. We really must be going.”

  “Of course,” Jason said quickly. “I’m sorry to keep you.”

  “Yes, well...I hope you’ll enjoy living in Wyndchester.” She reached for the door, closing it as she spoke. “It’s a nice little town.”

  “That’s what I hear,” he said.

  “Well—” she gave what appeared to be a strained smile “—goodbye.”

  The door closed with a firm click.

  So much for building a rapport with the neighbors, Jason told himself. Heaving a sigh, he tugged his hat back in place, then moved away from the door. His feet thudded against the wooden porch, sounding too loud in the sudden quietness.

  A nice little town with friendly people. That was what the mayor had told him when he’d been interviewed for the job. That was what the head of the town council had said when he’d approved his position. That was what the landlord had told him last night when he’d picked up the key to his newly rented house.

  He glanced back at his neighbor’s place and saw a curtain move in a window. If Maggie Conrad was an example of the friendly folks of Wyndchester, he was in for some very lonely days and nights.

  Maggie leaned against the door, breathing deeply, letting her jackhammering heart slow to a dull thump. “Kevin, get away from the window,” she said sharply.

  Startled, he dropped the curtain, letting it flutter back into place. He stared at her, his hands in his pockets, looking as scared as she felt.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

  Her legs felt like jelly. She stumbled to the stairway and dropped onto the bottom step. Elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her hands and tried to think about what she should do.

  A policeman. Living next door. She couldn’t have asked for worse luck.

  Without a word, Kevin sat down beside her. She felt the brush of his jeans against her thigh, the warmth of his skin as he pressed his cheek against her arm. He smelled of toothpaste and soap. Moments ago, he’d been happy, excited, full of childish energy. Now he’d reverted back to his former self.

  A boy who, in times of crisis, was used to making himself invisible.

  Dropping her hands from her face, she straightened and enfolded him in a hug. “It’ll be okay. Mommy just needs to think.”

  He clung to her.

  She felt the erratic beat of his heart, the tension thrumming through his small body. Her protective instincts surged inside her. And she knew she would do anything to keep him safe.

  Sighmg, she disentangled herself from his embrace. She stood, looking down at him with all the regret she felt in her heart. “We have to leave.”

  Kevin seemed to shrink before her eyes. He stared at her, not saying a word. She knew he understood that she was not talking about going to school or to work.

  Once again, as had been the case so often in the past eighteen months, they were being forced to pack up and leave town at a moment’s notice.

  Maggie brushed past him, making her way up the stairs. There wasn’t much time. Their new neighbor was no doubt wondering about their strained conversation. A policeman would be suspicious. She couldn’t afford to wait until he figured out that something was wrong.

  She started with Kevin’s room first. Pulling a suitcase from his closet, she began to systematically pack his clothes. Socks, underwear, T-shirts, they all had their place. Everything had to be packed into a minimum of space. Nothing large, nothing bulky. Nothing that couldn’t be fitted into the trunk of the Ford. The house was rented, already furnished. She’d lose her deposit check,
but it couldn’t be helped.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she packed, but she felt stronger now. She had purpose. She’d made a decision.

  Even if that decision was to run. Again.

  “Mom.”

  Kevin’s voice startled her. Holding a T-shirt in her hand, she whirled to face him.

  He stood in the doorway. Tears shimmered in his eyes. He was blinking hard, trying to stave the flow. “What about the play?”

  The play. For the first time in his brief history in school, he’d been asked to be the lead in a class play. It may not seem like much to the average child, but it meant the world to him.

  Maggie sank onto the bed, the box spring sighing beneath her weight. “Oh, Kevin, I’m sorry.”

  “Why do we have to go, Mom?” he asked, moving into the room. “The policeman didn’t look mean. He seemed nice, friendly.”

  “I know, honey. But—”

  “He doesn’t know us, Mom.”

  “But he might find out and—”

  “I won’t tell him. I won’t tell anybody.”

  Maggie’s heart clenched. Her eyes blurred with tears of shame, of regret. “I know you wouldn’t, Kevin. But sometimes people have a way of finding out no matter how hard we try to keep it from happening.”

  For a long moment Kevin stared down at his feet, not wanting her to see the tears welling up in his own eyes. He’d been so brave for so long. All she’d ever wanted for her son was the one thing she couldn’t possibly give him. A normal life.

  Finally, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him, he said, “Maybe if he knew about Daddy, he’d help us.”

  Slowly she shook her head. “No, honey. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.”

  She glanced out the bedroom window, taking in the trees wearing their bright green colors of new spring growth, the squirrel making its kamikaze dive to a lower branch and the bird building its nest in the cover of the leaves. Life in Wyndchester seemed so simple, so peaceful so safe. She understood Kevin’s reluctance to leave. Here, she, too, almost felt insulated from the past.

  “Just for a little while, Mom,” Kevin pleaded. “School’s almost over. The play’s in just a couple of weeks.”

  Two weeks. Surely that wasn’t so much to ask.

  Maggie considered the possibility. If they left now, whatever suspicions her conversation with their new neighbor had aroused would be confirmed. Of course, they’d be long gone and on to a new town, a new life, before he had time to act on those suspicions.

  But if they stayed, if they were careful, he need not know exactly what it was they were hiding from him.

  Kevin stood watching her, barely breathing, waiting anxiously for her decision.

  Jason Gallagher wasn’t a threat. Not yet, anyway. He barely knew them. If they kept it that way, then surely they’d be safe.

  What was the saying? The best place to hide is the place they’d least expect. Right beneath their noses.

  Maggie sighed. “All right, Kevin. We’ll stay for a couple of weeks. That’s all I can promise for now.”

  A smile broke out on his face. A twin set of dimples appeared, deepened. He flung himself into her arms and held on tight. “Thank you, Mom.”

  More tears threatened. She blinked hard and rubbed a hand briskly against his back. “We really are going to be late for school now.”

  “I’m ready.”

  She took his tear-splotched face in her hands, kissing his forehead lightly. “Go wash your face. Then we can leave.”

  With a nod, he sped out of the room.

  Maggie’s smile dissolved. She drew in a choppy breath, allowing her fears to resurface. Eighteen months ago she’d made an irrevocable, life-altering decision. She’d lost faith in the justice of a court system that would award custody of a child to a man who beat his wife and was a threat to his own son. That was why she had decided to take the law into her own hands.

  She had packed her bags, had taken Kevin and had run.

  It had been a matter of life and death, she told herself. For if she had stayed and followed the letter of the law, surely she never would have survived. It would only have been a matter of time before her ex-husband would have killed her.

  Unfortunately, by protecting herself and Kevin, in the eyes of the law, she was a criminal.

  Kevin’s life may not be stable now. But at least he had the security of a mother who loved him. And he was away from a father who would hurt him. If the people who’d sworn to uphold the law of the land could not help them, then she would have do it herself.

  No one, not even Jason Gallagher, was going to take her son away from her.

  Chapter 2

  “Mrs. McKinney’s pretty much a regular caller. Not a week goes by without something bothering her,” Officer Stan Wilson said, turning left at the corner, steering the patrol car toward the outskirts of town. “Her husband died last year of cancer. They’d been married fifty years. Sometimes I think she’s just lonely.”

  Jason did not comment. He knew only too well the pain suffered at the loss of someone you love. The pain of his son’s unexpected death still left a hollow place in his heart.

  Pain? Jason frowned. An unwanted image of his new neighbor, Maggie Conrad, and her son, Kevin, flashed in his mind. Something about their brief encounter had struck a chord of unease, one that had been nagging him most of the morning. Was it because he’d seen a haunted look of pain in her eyes, as well?

  He pushed the unsettling thought from his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. Three hours earlier, after a brief assembly of both day and night shifts, Jason had shocked his staff by opting to spend his first morning on patrol. He couldn’t think of a better or quicker way to get to know the town of Wyndchester than to see it firsthand. Stan Wilson had had the dubious honor of drawing him for a partner.

  Stan was in his early twenties. He stood well over six feet, with the lean, lanky build of the young. He had pale blond hair, a healthy dose of freckles and a quick smile. Despite his youthfulness, he had a sharp wit and a psychologist’s mind for analyzing a person’s personality quirks.

  “What’s the call about this morning?” Jason asked.

  “Malicious mischief, vandalism. She says somebody got into her yard last night and tore it up.”

  Jason raised a brow. “Doesn’t sound like something she could have imagined.”

  Stan shrugged. “Most times the complaints just don’t pan out.”

  “Well, let’s go check it out.”

  Stan picked up the mike and let the dispatcher know they’d be making the call. A few minutes later, the patrol car coasted to a stop in front of a white clapboard house. The house and its yard had the stamp of meticulous attention from someone who obviously cared a great deal. From the sparkling clean glass windows to the painted concrete doorstep, the house had that freshly scrubbed appearance. In the yard, the grass was neatly trimmed. The sidewalks were lined with ruler-straight borders of spring flowers.

  Jason stepped out of the car, glancing around for any sign of vandalism. And found nothing. Not a flower trampled, not a window broken, not a mailbox dinged or dented. It appeared Stan was right about this caller.

  “Looks okay to me,” Stan said, echoing his thoughts.

  Jason sighed. “No harm in ringing the doorbell.”

  The woman answering the door looked like an advertiser’s dream of the perfect grandma. She had fluffy white hair, a round face and a well-cushioned body. She peered at them from behind a pair of spectacles perched at the end of her nose. “It’s about time you got here, Officer Wilson. I’ve been waiting all morning.”

  Stan squirmed uncomfortably, blushing slightly at the reprimand.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Jason said, stepping in. “We had other calls to make first.”

  Her faded blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. What’s your name, young man?”

  Jason almost smiled. At thirty-five years of age, it wasn’t often that he was called young a
nything. “Jason Gallagher, ma’am. I’m the new chief of police.”

  She stared at him for a moment, her jaw working as she digested the news, then gave a brisk nod. “No use wasting our time chatting on the doorstep. The mess is out back.”

  Jason and his officer stepped aside, allowing the woman to lead the way to the backyard.

  “I noticed it first thing this morning,” she called over her shoulder. “I was making my morning pot of coffee when I looked out my kitchen window and nearly had a heart attack. Don’t know why anybody would want to cause so much damage.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Looks to me like kids did it. Just plain mischief-makers.”

  For once Jason had to agree. His step faltered as he got his first glance at the carnage in the backyard. Pots of flowers in all shapes and colors had been overturned, smashed and strewn haphazardly across the yard. Delicate bars of wooden lattice, supporting fledgling shoots of bluebells and roses, were knocked over and broken in places; the buds were trampled, lying limply on the ground. Daffodils, dug up from their roots, were tossed onto the sidewalk.

  Stan released a whistling breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You didn’t hear any of this going on at all last night?”

  Mrs. McKinney tapped both ears. “Got hearing aids. I turn them off at night.”

  Jason squatted, studying the scratch marks in the dirt beside the daffodils. “Do any of your neighbors own a dog, Mrs. McKinney?”

  “A dog?” She frowned, considering the question. “Not that I know—”

  Before she could finish, however, a muscular, black-andbrown rottweiler ambled into the yard. The dog stared at them for a moment as if sizing them up. Obviously finding them no threat, he lifted a leg to one of the few remaining daffodils, marking his territory.

  Mrs. McKinney’s mouth tightened into a grimace. She gave Stan a hard look. “Well, don’t just stand there, Officer Wilson. Arrest him.”