Stonebrook Cottage (13 page)

"He's going to want to know where you are."

"Yes, he will. I'll be in touch as soon as I've straightened out a few things here. Thanks again. I owe you."

"Forget it. It does my soul good to pull a fast one on a Texas Ranger every now and then."

They disconnected, and Lillian burst out the front door, beckoning to Kara. "Come
on!
There's
ice cream
in the freezer! Ben & Jerry's!"

Kara managed a small smile. Ben & Jerry's ice cream—any flavor—wouldn't make her problems go away, but it couldn't hurt.

Sam sat on a stool at the smooth, worn bar that dominated Jim's Place, a popular bar near Boston famous for its clam chowder and neighborhood atmosphere. It was early evening, the place already packed with graduate students, firefighters, construction workers and old people. There was no sign of Iris Dunning, Susanna Galway's grandmother, who lived just up the street. The first time Sam had come here, he'd been looking for a Texas murder suspect. He wasn't thrilled to be back.

Jim Haviland, the burly owner, greeted Sam with a big grin. "I'll be damned. Ranger Temple returns."

Davey Ahearn occupied his habitual spot at the end of the bar. He was a plumber with a huge handlebar mustache and a tendency to say whatever came into his head. "No hat? No gun?"

"I'm not here on official business," Sam said.

Jim Haviland laid a white bar towel on his shoulder. "I'll bet you're not here for the chowder, though, are you?"

Clam chowder wasn't one of Sam's favorites. He'd rented a car at Logan and had already driven out to the suburban airport where Kara had parked her brother's plane. She'd arrived midafternoon. No one remembered seeing kids with her. While he was en route to Jim's Place, Eva Dunning called at Susanna's request. Meaning Susanna didn't want to talk to him herself. Eva said Kara had been in touch, that she wanted Sam and her brother to know Henry and Lillian Stockwell were in good hands and all was well.

Sam didn't think so.

He had no idea what Eva and Susanna had told Jack. So far, Sam had managed to avoid talking to Jack Galway. Probably his only smart move of the day.

"You know Jack's sister, don't you?" he asked Haviland.

"Kara. Sure. Didn't she move back to Texas?"

"About a year ago. She's a defense attorney in Austin."

"I hear Austin's pretty as Texas towns go," Ahearn said.

Sam ignored him. Ahearn didn't seem to care one way or the other. "Did Kara ever mention her friendship with Allyson Stockwell?" Sam asked.

"Our new governor to the south?" Haviland said. "Yeah, sure. She and Kara have been friends since college. It's a tragedy, what happened to Big Mike Parisi."

"I should have known." Davey shook his head. "No way is a Texas Ranger walking in here without it having to do with somebody who died."

Sam had slept on the flight north or he might have had less patience with the plumber. "Governor Parisi rented a house in Bluefield, Connecticut, for the summer. That's where he died. Does it ring any bells with you as far as Kara's concerned?"

Jim frowned, thinking. "She used to spend weekends there. She stayed in a guest house on the Stockwell es-tate—out of the way."

"Stonebrook Cottage," Ahearn said without hesitation. "Remember, Jimmy? Bluefield's the sort of town where people name their houses. She said you should come up with a more atmospheric name for this place, and you told her it was a goddamn bar."

"Jesus, Davey, you remember the damnedest things," Haviland said. "But I remember now—she liked that cottage." He eyed Sam with an air of resignation, perhaps mixed with a bit of relief. "You're not going to tell us what's going on, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Do I get to ask why it's you up here and not her brother?"

Sam withheld comment.

"You know, Ranger Temple," Ahearn said, "you've got your hands full if you're going after Kara Galway.

She's smart and hardheaded, she's a lawyer and she knows how to shoot."

Sam didn't disagree, but Jim Haviland scowled at his friend, then turned back to Sam. "What can we do to help?"

"Tell me what you know about this Stonebrook Cottage," Sam said, "and point me to northwest Connecticut."

Eight

A
llyson settled down to enjoy a cup of tea in the dining room of her suburban Hartford house, a comfortable home that didn't rival the stately, historic Governor's Residence. It was her first quiet moment in days. Thank God Henry and Lillian were safe and in Kara's care.

Despite his outward optimism, Hatch had spent much of the past two days worrying about seeing
Governor's kids gone missing
on CNN Breaking News, which so far hadn't happened. He was the one dealing with the dude ranch and the Texas authorities. He said Kara's brother, Jack, the Texas Ranger, was hardest to convince that they really did trust his sister's judgment, despite her recent odd behavior. Allyson had met Jack Galway and understood. He was not a man who liked taking anyone's word about anything, never mind that of his younger sister. He wouldn't be satisfied until Kara was back at her desk and he had reliable word that the children of the Connecticut governor were no longer in his state.

When Kara finally called a little while ago, Allyson had cried. It wasn't just a question of faith now—she
knew.
Henry and Lillian were at Stonebrook Cottage, and they were fine.

"They spun a wild tale to get me to bring them up here without telling anyone," Kara said. "I'm not to the bottom of it yet, but that's okay. You're the mom. I'll leave all that to you."

"God only knows what they were thinking, running off like that." Allyson knew she was breathing too rapidly, but couldn't seem to stop herself. "It was such a relief when we realized they'd gone to Austin."

"I'd have called you the minute they showed up, but I promised them—" Kara broke off, sounding exhausted. "It's their story to tell. When can you get here?"

"I could come now, but maybe it'd be best if I came in the morning. It's a little over an hour's drive, and Hatch and I still haven't told Madeleine about the kids. Let me get my ducks in a row. Is it okay? Henry and Lillian will be okay overnight?"

"Morning's fine, Allyson. Don't worry about it. It's late as it is, and we could all use a quiet night." Kara yawned, and Allyson thought her friend sounded remarkably calm and sane under the circumstances. "We'll hang out here and wait for you. There's food in the cupboards. It's not a problem."

"Kara, I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry this happened. We've had such a terrible summer, and I thought going to Texas would be good for them. They were looking forward to seeing where you lived. I thought they'd like it—"

"I don't think being in Texas is the problem. They're right here. Do you want to talk to them?"

Allyson's heart jumped. "Yes, but I—my God, what do I say to them? They've put us all through hell! If I hadn't put my foot down and insisted I trusted you, there'd be a nationwide alert, it'd be all over the news—"

"You'll know what to say."

And she did. As her children took turns talking to her, Allyson told them not to worry, she loved them, she'd be there as soon as she could in the morning. She tried to sound caring and reasonable, not like a crazy woman who'd lost her children for twenty-four hours. Of course they'd run to Kara. She was their godmother, their mother's best friend, and she was right there in Austin. They would know they could trust her, that she wouldn't judge them. Kara tried to hide her vulnerabilities behind her legal expertise, her keen intelligence, but Allyson knew better—Kara Galway was inde-pendent-minded, smart and capable, but part of her was still the little girl trapped next to her dying mother, helpless to save her.

Allyson had smiled through her tears after she'd hung up with her children. She needed to maintain a certain self-control or people would wonder what
more
was wrong with her, perhaps even question her ability to serve as governor. She didn't want that. She was beginning to enjoy her new role and the opportunities it presented, far beyond what she could accomplish as lieutenant governor, in Mike's shadow. She missed him deeply, but she had work to do, starting with figuring out what was going on with Henry and Lillian. Then she had to get rid of her anonymous caller.

If only Pete were here now. He'd be reassuring, unconditionally on her side and everyone else be damned. Allyson couldn't imagine going on without him, but to have him in her life meant going up against powerful forces—her mother-in-law, Hatch, the people who wouldn't tolerate having a governor in love with a working-class guy with a criminal record. And there was how all the controversy would affect her children.

Hatch rapped on the open door to her study, and she motioned him in, inviting him to sit down. He was forty-seven now, the same age Lawrence had been when he died, but he looked older, more world-weary. His reaction to the news of Kara's call was predictable. "She should have gotten in touch with me first."

Allyson smiled. "Kara does things her own way. You know that. I'm just glad the kids are all right and this latest turmoil is over."

"Is it over?" Hatch asked softly.

"Yes, of course."

She tried to sound confident, in control. It would be so easy to let Hatch take over and just do as he told her. He could be the power behind her, make all the tough decisions. He didn't like being out front and wouldn't care if she got all the credit—and any criticism. But even in her darkest mood, Allyson resisted, instinctively preserving her independence.

She gave a small laugh, thinking of her children. "Those two rascals. They've led us all on a merry chase, haven't they? I can't wait to see them."

"You'll go in the morning?"

She nodded.

"We'll need to issue a statement explaining their little misadventure to the media before word of it breaks loose. We can do it in an open-and-shut way. I think it should come from a spokesperson—"

"No, it should come from me. I'm their mother."

Hatch didn't push her, but she knew it wasn't because he was satisfied. She could sense his concern for her, his questions, and, when he left, his lingering annoyance with Kara. But that was to be expected. Hatch was always annoyed with Kara, and undoubtedly still in love with her.

Pete laughed at Billie Corrigan as she yawned over her first beer of the night in the dive that was O'Reilly's Pub. "Come on, Billie, one beer and you're falling asleep?"

She scowled at him. "I've been on my feet since eight o'clock this morning."

"Wienie hours." Pete raised his beer to her. "I've been working since 5:00 a.m."

"Yeah, well, you're a farmer boy. I'm a city girl."

Pete drank, wondering why the hell he'd come here. He liked Billie, at least. She wasn't nearly as uptight as her big brother. She and Hatch shared the late, unmourned Frankie Corrigan for a father, but had different mothers. Billie was raised in New York by her crazy waitress-actress mother, Hatch in Bluefield by Madam Madeleine. Billie seemed to get a kick out of her brother's lofty upbringing more than anything else.

She'd moved up to Bluefield after watching her father fall to his death in a drunken haze five years ago. She had a good reputation and seemed to make a decent living as a caterer and party planner, not that Pete had ever hired her. She was redheaded, blue-eyed and buxom, and he knew he could have her for the asking.

She had stuffed herself into a white shirt and jeans that seemed a size too small. Pete tried not to notice. He seldom went out for a beer since his release from jail, but tonight was different. Charlie had heard word that Henry and Lillian had skipped out of their dude ranch and were on the loose in Texas, probably making their way to Kara Galway in Austin. Pete tried calling Allyson at the Stockwell Farm, as a neighbor who might help, nothing more. He'd decided to tell her about the tree house, in case it had anything to do with the kids' behavior.

But Hatch, that officious prick, answered and said she was back in Hartford, and he was headed there himself. There was no getting around Hatch Corrigan. The guy always treated Pete as if he was beneath the Stockwells—a hell of a nerve seeing how Hatch's old man had broken his damn neck because he was a drunk. Allyson didn't come from big money, although she hadn't grown up poor. Her father was a doctor in New Haven.

The "real" Stockwells were Hatch's half brother Lawrence, who was dead, and Lawrence's children, Henry and Lillian. They were the ones with the money. But Lawrence had treated everyone with dignity and respect. It didn't matter where they were from, who their parents were, what they did for a living. Allyson was trying to raise Henry and Lillian with that same egalitarian attitude—she wanted them just to be regular kids.

But Pete didn't want to be too hard on Hatch. Allyson could have called and told him about the kids if she'd wanted to.

"I hear one more word about fucking bluebirds," Billie said, "and I'm going to scream. I mean it. I'll start dismantling every bluebird house within fifty square miles."

Pete laughed. "You wouldn't. Ethel Smith would string you up."