Page 10 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

“You might have something and not know it.”

The only things I had that people thought were Liam’s were the girls. That idea shot my fear into the stratosphere. Who would want them? Why?

“Or it’s not related. It’s my job to figure that out. Will you be alright? Do you have a place to go? Should I call someone for you?" Concern etched his face.

"I'm going to go stay with my dad and stepmother. My girls are there already."

"If you'd like, I can escort you over."

I managed to smile. "Thank you, Detective Donovan. That's very nice, but not necessary."

"Please, you can call me Flynn." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card and a pen and started writing on the back. "The front of the card has all my professional numbers including my professional cell phone. Here on the back is my personal number. If you think of anything or you need anything, let me know."

I took the card and studied it. I couldn’t deny the feeling of security it gave me to have access to him. "Do you always give your personal number out?"

He shook his head. "No. In fact, this might be the first time. But Oliver and Liam were friends of mine. I owe them, and especially Oliver, my life. He helped me get out of what was going to be a very bad life of crime."

The memories of Oliver filled my heart. Memories of the gentle, kind, quiet man who would've done anything to save his brother. It didn't surprise me that he had also helped Detective Donovan.

"Thank you."

On the drive to my father’s house, I tried to think of how to explain to the girls why I was there instead of home. Maybe we had a flea infestation and I needed to have the home bombed with insecticide. No.

Maybe I could just tell them I missed them. But then I wasn't sure how to explain that we couldn't go home for the next few days.

Maybe I needed to tell them the truth, but I didn't want to scare them. I didn't want them to go to bed every night wondering if someone was going to break into the house and destroy their things.

When I arrived, my dad greeted me at the door. "Miranda's with the kids in the back. I wanted a minute to talk with you and see how you are. I've got some wine in the kitchen. Or something stronger if you need."

I arched a brow. "You'll do anything to get out of playing Candyland, won't you?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Instead, he studied me. "Really, Lindsay. Are you okay?" He pulled me into a hug, and I got the feeling it was more to soothe him than me.

I hugged him back. "I'm okay. They suspect it's just kids."

Inwardly, I winced, knowing I was lying to my father. Maybe not lying, but not telling the whole truth. The text message unsettled me, but maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, whatever that person was looking for, I didn't have it.

I got a glass of wine and assured my father that I was okay and a competent detective was on the case. Then I did my best to put it out of my mind as I went to see my girls, hugging them tight, grateful that they were safe.

Later that night in bed, I thought about Liam. What did the person who texted want? Was it related to why Liam was in my house the night he was killed? If that was the case, it could be why my home was broken into. But what were they looking for? Whatever it was, I didn’t have it. Surely, by not finding it, the intruders would give up, except that text came after my home was ransacked.

Why would they think I had anything, away? Liam and I were estranged by then. The most likely person to have whatever they were looking for was Oliver.

Oliver. I sighed. Thinking of him brought up so many emotions. Sadness at not having him in my life. Hopefulness that he was happy. I knew he was successful, but was he happy? And of course, guilt at not telling him about the girls.

I turned over, not wanting to feel guilty. I’d made my choice, and it was the right one. Oliver left and never looked back. He’d never called or texted. A part of me felt hurt by that. I’d thought I’d meant more to him. But the other part was glad that he’d been able to escape a life of pain and build something new. It told me that I’d made the right choice in keeping the girls from him and letting everyone believe they were Liam’s. But now, I had to wonder if the thing Liam had that the person who texted wanted was my girls?

4

Oliver

It was just after seven in the morning when my phone rang. I was already at the office, sitting at my desk having joined the Five AM Club not long after I moved to California. Those early morning hours were always my most productive of the day.

I picked up my phone, checking the caller ID, and was surprised to see the detective from the Boston Police Department assigned to Liam’s case. Granted, I had emailed him a copy of the weird text I received last evening, but to be honest, I didn't think it would go anywhere except maybe into my brother's file.

I poked the answer button. “Oliver Quinlan.”

“Mr. Quinlan, this is Detective Riker from the Boston police. I was calling about that text you received yesterday.”

---