Page 30 of Boss with Benefits

"Sit," she said to Hao and glanced up at me and nodded, letting me know it was okay to let him go. I did, but I stood over him, ready to grab him if he tried anything.

Hao sat but on the far side of the sofa, farthest away from Rachel.

"My daughter was ashamed."

"Of me?" Rachel's eyes widened.

"Of what she do. Of giving you away. But the shame is mine."

Rachel leaned toward him, but Hao pressed against the arm of the sofa like he was frightened.

"May I see your license?" I asked, wary. I had learned never to trust anyone at their word. Especially when they'd been stalking someone for weeks.

He handed me his beat-up wallet, and I flipped to his license, which had the same name he had given us, as did all his credit cards. I took a photo of the license and sent it to my buddy at my old precinct and asked him to run a background check.

"Where's my...your daughter?" Rachel asked, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"She never forgive me. I make her give up baby."

Rachel reeled back. "Why?" she asked, her voice thick.

"Jessica not married. She a child too. Sixteen when pregnant. And father is not Chinese."

My main association with Chinese culture was from working cases involving Chinese Americans. Over the years I had learned that family and community took precedence over the individual. And the elders in the community were respected above all. Of course, this could vary depending on many things, but it seemed Hao came from a traditional Chinese background by the few things he had said.

From his accent and broken speech, I guessed he had immigrated directly from China, and his daughter was first generation. Especially with her name being Jessica.

These were all assumptions, of course.

"Where's Jessica?" Rachel asked.

"She die last year. Doctor's say cancer, but I think it was broken heart."

"I—" Rachel's voice caught. I stepped toward her, but she put her hand up, stopping me. "What kind of cancer?"

Hao glanced up, a sheen of wetness in his eyes, but his voice was steady.

"Here." He pointed to his chest.

"Breast," Rachel said.

"Yes." Hao nodded. "Her mother die too from this."

"I'm sorry." Rachel covered his hand with hers, and he didn't move.

My phone buzzed, and I stepped outside, keeping an eye on Hao and Rachel through the glass. Detective Jones told me Hao Lin had a nearly clean record besides a couple of traffic stops, and he did have a daughter named Jessica who died nearly a year ago, according to her death certificate.

When I went back inside, Rachel was writing her information on a piece of paper and handed it to Hao.

"Now you don't have to follow me."

Hao held it like it was a precious object. "I must make up to you," Hao said.

"I'm fine," Rachel said. "My life is good, and I was a blessing for my mother. My real mother."

"I call," Hao said, holding up the paper, and walked to the door.

"Wait," Rachel said. "What was Jessica's real name? Her Chinese name?"

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