Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead (15 page)

Troy didn’t even like to think about that last question.

He pulled into her driveway, set the emergency brake and
silenced the engine.

Disconcerted, he discovered that his brooding hadn’t in any way
lessened his eagerness to see her.

* * *

T
O
M
ADISON
, T
ROY
’
S
MOOD
seemed strange. Was it because
she’d put the brakes on their physical relationship? But he’d seemed to
understand, so she had trouble believing that now he was sulking. Then it
occurred to her that, given his job, he must have some really bad days.

She finally set down her fork and propped her elbows on the
table. “Did something happen today?”

“Something?”

“A horrible, bloody car accident? A child was murdered? Or...?”
Her imagination failed her. She was disconcerted to find she half
hoped
his mood had to do with something unrelated to
her. She crossed her fingers under the table.
I don’t want
anyone to have suffered or died. Really.

Troy laughed, his body language loosening. “None of the above.
So far, my lieutenant has dropped me from the rotation and is letting me focus a
hundred percent on the King investigation. I’ve been lucky. He won’t be able to
do that forever.”

“You seem withdrawn tonight,” she observed.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled, but she couldn’t help noticing that his
eyes were still shadowed. “I’m getting somewhere, and it hit me on the way over
here that every bit of new information opens yet more avenues. We’re talking
literally
hundreds
of people I may have to
interview.” He shrugged. “It’s big. Made even bigger by the intervening years,
the fact that those people have spread out across the country and even the
world.”

“You’re feeling daunted,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” His eyes met hers. “I’d have liked
to clear your dad right away.”

“So you never had to show anyone else what your father
wrote.”

He grunted. His jaw muscles knotted. “And so
your
father would quit standing between us, glaring at
me and staring reproachfully at you.”

Madison blinked at the image. “Is that what he’s doing?” she
asked after a minute.

“In my head.”

“In mine...” She had to stop; she closed her eyes, then opened
them again, unable to be less than honest with Troy. “In mine he’s looking angry
and scared at the same time.” She hesitated again. “The way he sounds,” she
said, even more softly. “And then I think I’m betraying him, and I picture his
face when he finds out.”

Troy swore and started to push back his chair. “I shouldn’t
have raised the subject.”

“No.” She held up her hand and even smiled. “Don’t be silly.
Sit down and eat. I’m fine. I just...have my moments.”

“I’ll bet.”

She traced the condensation on her glass. “You think Dad is
between us.”

He put down his fork again. “I guess I do.”

Why was she even poking at this?
She’d
been the one to tell him to slow down because of the complications. “I’m
not, um, real quick to leap into bed with a guy, anyway.”

He looked at her gravely. “Is that what I am? A guy?”

Shame heated her cheeks. “You know you’re more than that. And
it’s not that I’m blaming you for having to investigate Dad. I understand you
do, okay?”

“I offered before, but if your involvement is getting to you, I
can track people down another way.”

“And I said no.” She jutted her chin at him to be sure he knew
how determined she was. “I meant it.”

Troy smiled faintly. “Okay.” This conversation hadn’t reduced
the shadows in his eyes at all. “We’ll get through this.”

She wanted to, with startling desperation. Troy was different.
How she felt about him was different. Which made him frightening, too, but she
longed to find out where a relationship with him would take her. Being haunted
by her father—the ghost of past, present
and
future,
she thought with a twinge of humor—was definitely getting in her way.

“Dad hasn’t called again,” she blurted.

He didn’t say anything.

“You haven’t told me if you ever got in touch with Frank
Claybo’s sister.”

He had. What’s more, he’d talked with Frank, who had been,
well, frank about having been blackmailed. Appalled, she listened as Troy told
her about the ledger and Frank’s suspicion that there had been multiple
victims.

“Then...if Dad
was
being
blackmailed, it means he wasn’t the only one.”

“That’s what it means.”

Apprehension squeezed her throat. “Did...did he have any idea
who any of the other people were?” Her voice had come out too high and
squeaky.

“He gave me a list of students he’d seen talking to Frank. I
doubt he remembered everyone—think about how many years have passed!—but I
suspect he was pissed enough to be paying close attention.” Troy frowned at the
expression on her face. “Your dad isn’t on the list, Madison. Don’t look at me
like that.”

“I’m sorry.” She was proud of herself for her ability to curve
her mouth into an almost reassuring smile. “I have serious daddy issues, don’t
I?”

Troy grunted a laugh. “You and me both. You’d think we’d have
outgrown it, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not so sure you have issues. You’ve been disillusioned,
which is different.” She stood and picked up dirty dishes with both hands.
“Coffee? I picked up cookies at the bakery today, too.”

His smile verged on rakish. “I haven’t outgrown cookies.”

When she returned with the plate of cookies, Madison continued
as if she had never left off. “You’re really angry at your dad, aren’t you?”

Lines deepened on his face, although he wasn’t exactly
frowning. “You think I shouldn’t be?”

“I don’t have an opinion. I suppose I’m being nosy.”

His eyes warmed. “I want you to be nosy where I’m
concerned.”

Breathing was suddenly a challenge. “I want you to be curious
about me, too,” she finally managed to say.

“Good.” He said it the way he always did, with solid
satisfaction. Possibly a hint of smugness, which she found she didn’t mind.

As she watched, he added cream to his coffee. She’d noticed
before that he drank it black in the morning. Only in the evening did he dilute
it.

“Does your stomach bother you?” she asked, nodding at the small
jug of cream in his hand.

He glanced down. “Ah...yeah. Sometimes. Mostly when I go to
bed.”

“You probably shouldn’t drink coffee at all in the evening. I
wished you’d told me. I could have made herbal tea.”

Troy grinned, a vivid flash of humor. “Please don’t. I might
have to start making my excuses the minute I finish the last bite of
dinner.”

Madison chuckled. “Oh, fine.” She dumped plenty of cream
and
sugar in her own coffee. Truthfully, she didn’t
drink it in the evening at all when she was alone.

“Back to Dad,” he said abruptly. “I keep wondering why this
whole thing has rattled my perception of him so much. I haven’t totally figured
it out yet.” Troy’s face and voice both had tightened. “Maybe I’m afraid I
didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. I always felt lucky. I don’t know
many guys who are really close to their fathers. I guess I thought I was
privileged, and now I have to wonder if that relationship went as deep as I
thought it did.”

“Has it occurred to you,” she said gently, “that he never told
you because he was ashamed? Because measuring up in your eyes really mattered to
him?”

He ground his teeth together. “If he was ashamed, why the hell
didn’t he do the right thing?” Troy asked, sounding angry again. “Tell me that.”
He closed his eyes. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry, Madison. It’s not your fault. And
you’re right, that is a possibility. But it’s one that means Dad wasn’t the man
I believed him to be.”

The shadow of her own father seemed to fall over her. She was
chilled enough to pull her arms close in to her sides. “Are you so sure? You’ve
also described a man who was completely loyal to the people he loved. Maybe he
was to friends, too. He sounded as if he considered my father to be a good
friend. Your dad’s certainty got shaken and he typed up that witness statement,
but maybe as soon as the time capsule was closed up he realized he’d been an
idiot and that he
believed
in my father. The ability
to be that kind of friend is admirable, too, isn’t it?”

He considered her for a minute that stretched into two. Those
furrows still aged his face, but somehow made him no less sexy. Madison had the
sudden, panicky realization that, if anything, a troubled Troy trying to
untangle a complicated emotional dilemma was even more appealing than the
straightforward man she’d first met, the one who’d gone into instant hunting
mode where she was concerned.
He
was a lot more
complex than he’d first seemed, which also gave her hope that he wouldn’t decide
she was a flake because of all her confusion and give up on her.

“Yeah,” Troy said gruffly. “You’re right. I’d find that picture
of him a lot more convincing, though, if he and your dad had stayed friends, at
least until the end of the school year.”

“Do you know that they didn’t reconcile?” she challenged.

He stared at her, his expression sharply arrested. “No,” he
said slowly, “I guess I don’t. But when did that happen? The time capsule was
closed up and put in the building—when?—in April. Months after the murder. Plus,
I’m going on the fact that Dad told Mom about what he’d seen and written. It
sounded like it ate at him. You know?”

“Maybe what ate at him was having put that stupid, impulsive
thing in the one place he couldn’t recover it from.”

“You really think they got to be buddies again in the last
month and half, two months before graduation?”

“The capsule was put in the foundation in April, but what if it
was closed up earlier than that? Construction on Cheadle Hall might have gotten
delayed.”

“You’re reaching,” Troy said flatly.

She sat stubbornly silent.

Troy let out a gusty sigh and shoved his fingers through his
hair. “I’m being a jackass. You’re right. There are a lot of possible answers.
The truth is, I keep remembering all these talks Dad and I had. In law
enforcement and banking both, you sometimes stumble on this mushy, gray
territory. Dad would be frustrated because the bank would come down like a
hammer on some poor schmuck who was running late on his loan payments under
pitiable circumstances, but then give second, third and fourth chances to
someone else who had the right family or political connections. It can be hard
to arrest someone you sympathize with, or see the resources of the department
focus on one crime while another one—say, the murder of some poor black woman or
a homeless guy—gets short shrift. Not that long before he died, Dad and I sat
out on the patio in the dark and hashed out some of those issues. Right versus
practicalities. And now I’m thinking, had he put out of his mind that he saw
your dad that night? Or was it always simmering inside him?”

The unhappiness and frustration she heard jolted Madison. She’d
been ridiculously defensive when Troy had only been trying to tell her why he’d
been hurt by the picture of his father, suddenly skewed. He’d made it clear that
he understood her mixed feelings. He respected them. In doing so, he’d given her
something she hadn’t reciprocated. As confused as she was, Madison knew she
wanted to be a person who deserved Troy’s love.

“I wonder,” she said, “whether he started being more bothered
by the choice he made once you became a cop. Maybe those talks you had were part
of his process of...oh, I don’t know, coming to terms with a decision he could
never quite make himself undo.”

Troy breathed out a sound that might have been “Huh.” He seemed
to be staring into space rather than at her. “When I was a kid—maybe twelve—I
saw a friend shoplift. I told Dad. At first I wouldn’t say who.” He briefly
focused on her and waited for her to nod her understanding. Of course he hadn’t.
“We talked for a long time about the obligation any of us owe to a friend. About
how much we can expect to influence another person, about being honest about how
we feel about someone else’s behavior. About when speaking out is right and
isn’t tattling. And about when we should cut ties with someone whose choices we
don’t like.” He shook his head, seemingly absorbed in his memory of that talk
with his father. “Funny, I’d forgotten the whole conversation.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

Once more she had his attention. “About the friend? I told him
I didn’t think stealing was cool, and if I saw him do it again I’d quit hanging
out with him.” His mouth curved. “He did, and I did. We actually got to be
buddies again later. I was first baseman on our high school team, he was
shortstop. He told me he was really pissed when I ditched him, and he went out
and stole some stuff and got caught. It freaked his mother out, and he admitted
that’s what he’d wanted all along. His parents had gotten divorced, Mom was
seeing a new guy and he felt invisible.”

Madison laughed. “A self-aware high school boy? I didn’t know
there was such a thing.”

He clapped a hand over his chest, his own laugh transforming
his face. “
I
was a self-aware high school boy. Give
me some credit.”

“But two of you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. That
stretches credulity.”

“I confess, it was probably a momentary aberration. I have no
doubt we were crude and sexist again in no time.” His smile became wry. “That
talk Dad and I had. He came down pretty hard on the side of friendship. You’ve
got a point.”

Some instinct made her stand up and go around the table. Troy
pushed his chair back and held out an encircling arm. She sat on his thighs and
pressed a kiss against his jaw, prickly with evening stubble. “Your father
sounds like a good man, Troy. You
were
lucky.”