“Okay.” She started down the sidewalk.
“Mandy?” he called.
“What?”
“It’s that way.” He pointed in the other direction.
She smiled. “Okay.” The bag was light, but almost as big as she was. He reached down and took it from her.
“I didn’t mean for you to carry that, sweetie. I’ll take it.”
“But I want to help.”
He sorted through the other packages. “Here. Take this one.”
“Mommy’s present?” She looked in the small gift store bag and smiled. “Mommy will like it.”
“I hope so.” It had been an impulsive purchase. A small yellow stuffed duck. She wouldn’t get the joke, but seeing it would remind him not to try to be other than he was.
Mandy walked at his side chatting about school and soccer practice. He liked the sound of her voice and her stories. He liked how she looked up at him and simply assumed he would keep her safe. She accepted him with the tacit trust of a child raised in a house full of love and security. So where was the girl’s father?
Thinking of Sam Proctor sent a shiver of guilt slipping down his spine. As they crossed the street and he saw a restaurant up ahead, he had the urge to step inside and use the phone to call Kyle at the station. It would be easy enough to tell his brother to back off. Why did it matter who Sam Proctor was? But he passed the restaurant without making the call.
They reached the post office. There was a short line. Mandy stood patiently, humming softly under her breath. He glanced down at her pretty face and beautiful blue eyes. Eyes she had to have inherited from her father. He smiled at her. She grinned in return and reached for his hand. The trusting gesture twisted his heart. A stab of loneliness caught him off balance. It was going to be hell when Elizabeth and Mandy moved into their own place.
When it was their turn, he approached the counter and collected Elizabeth’s mail. She was having her forwarded correspondence held until she had her own place. He resisted the temptation to flip through the stack of envelopes. Checking on Sam Proctor was one thing, reading her mail quite another.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
She nodded. “I had the best time, Travis. I like doing things with you. My old friends did stuff with their daddies but mine was always busy. I like soccer, too.”
The slightly confused speech gave him the in he’d been hoping for. As they approached the car, he dug in his front jeans pocket for his keys.
“You haven’t seen your daddy in a long time, have you?”
Mandy shook her head. “Mommy said he had to go away. My daddy left because he’s big.”
She’d said that once before. What the hell did it mean?
“Big?”
She nodded. “I heard her say that once. Mommy was on the phone. I was supposed to be in bed, but I got up for a drink of water. Mommy said Daddy was big. Then she started to cry.” Mandy’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I got scared and went back to my room. Mommy and Daddy fought sometimes. I could hear them.” She handed him the bag then climbed into the front seat of his Bronco. As he bent over to fasten her seat belt, she glanced up at him. “It made Mommy sad when he went away. It made me sad, too.”
He could see that sadness in her eyes and felt like the lowest kind of scum for questioning her. To distract her, he bent over and tickled her.
“Sad? No one is allowed to be sad in my car.”
She twisted away and giggled. “Is it a magic car, like the magic hugs?”
“Absolutely.” He handed her the mail and closed her door.
After tossing the packages on the back seat, he climbed in and started the truck. Mandy’s good humor had been restored and she chatted happily. His mind reeled with curiosity.
My daddy left because he’s big. Elizabeth Abbott, who are you? He signaled to turn out of the post office parking lot. Frustration welled up inside of him. He drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to get answers anytime soon. Kyle might come up with something, or he might not. Until then, he would just have to let it go. He liked Elizabeth and found it hard to believe she was involved with anything shady. His gut trusted her, and he trusted his gut.
“Look at the pretty dog,” Mandy said, pointing at a teenage boy walking a collie.
Travis stopped at a red light and turned to look. Mandy raised her hands to wave at the dog. The mail on her lap slipped off on the floor. He glanced at the light to make sure it was still red, then bent over and picked up the envelopes. He told himself not to, but he couldn’t help glancing at the address. It was a suburb of Los Angeles. He looked up a line, to the addressee. His teeth clenched together. He flipped through the rest of the envelopes. Almost all of them were addressed to the same person: Elizabeth Proctor.
She’d lied.
* * *
Elizabeth wiped the kitchen counter. Again. It had been clean the last four times she’d wiped it. She was wasting time, trying to avoid the inevitable.
Travis had put up a good front through the late afternoon and even into dinner. But she knew there was something wrong. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he hesitated before answering her questions. He’d held himself apart from her ever since he and Mandy had come home.
She looked around the clean kitchen, liking the way the cream-and-blue tiles complemented the bleached oak cabinets. It wasn’t a traditional kitchen, but it suited her, and the house. She would miss it when she left.
She walked over to the coffeepot and poured out two cups. Sitting on the shelf above the sink was a stuffed yellow duck. The little creature seemed to smile at her, as much as a duck could smile. The gift had delighted her. Only Travis’s seeming emotional distance distracted her from her pleasure. Something was wrong and she was going to find out what.
She carried the mugs carefully to the stairs and started to climb. Travis was fitting cabinets in the big bathroom off the master bedroom. Mandy had been in bed for almost an hour. Her morning on the soccer field had worn her out. She had new clothes, thanks to Travis’s patience at shopping, and several new friends. Life was good for the six-year-old.
Elizabeth walked down the hallway to the last door. Like most of the rooms in the house, the master bedroom was vacant, the walls stripped of wallpaper, the hardwood floor in need of repair. But even empty and abandoned, it was a beautiful room. Bay windows overlooked the back of the property, creating an intimate sitting area. There was a stone fireplace in the corner and a huge bathroom through the doorway at the far end.
She made her way over the stacks of supplies and tools. She could hear a file rubbing against wood.
“You ready to take a break?” she called. “Or should I come back later?”
“I can take a break.”
“Good.” She entered the bathroom. Molding for the ceiling lay stacked in the center. Travis had told her he planned to do the master bed and bath in a Victorian style. He’d even ordered a claw-footed bathtub. Several cabinets stood around the outside of the room. Pipes stuck out from the wall.
Travis sat in the middle of the floor, an open cabinet in front of him. He looked up as she entered. Something flickered in his eyes. Not passion, not even interest. It was almost a fleeting hint of sadness, followed by a healthy dose of mistrust. She stopped dead in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He blinked