Page 16 of Off Limits Daddy

“Did you think I couldn't? Why wouldn’t I be able to talk to children?"

I shrugged because saying that I thought she was cool, aloof, and prickly probably wouldn't go over well.

She let out a sigh. "I am the oldest of five. I have a lot of experience with children. Now, can I go? It's getting cold out here, Duncan."

I nodded and started to step back until it occurred to me that she'd used my first name. “What is your name?"

"Special Agent Marsden."

"No, what is your first name?" From inside her car, she smirked, and I thought for sure she was going to drive off without telling me.

"Veronica." With that, she shut the door, started the engine, and drove away.

3

Veronica

Well, that was weird. I'd walked into many strange or unusual situations in my five years as an FBI agent, but never into a situation in which I ran into a man I'd hooked up with. So, walking into Brett McKinnon's cabin to find my gym lover was the foster parent of the child I needed to talk to was really bizarre. I mean, what were the odds? Boston was too big of a city to run into a stranger more than once unless you went back to the place you originally saw them. I hadn't been back to that gym. I thought about it several times, but I hadn't. So, seeing my mystery man again seemed impossible. Couple that with the fact that we weren't even in Boston… it was just too weird to contemplate.

Fortunately, I was a consummate professional and I did my job. For the most part, it wasn't difficult to do, but there were moments I found myself taken by how fiercely protective Duncan was of the boy and then so gentle with him.

I gave my head a quick shake to rid it of Duncan and instead focused on the interview with Aiden Brennan. I was ninetypercent sure he had witnessed Wally Creighton killing Detective Donovan and Darcy Patrick, but he wouldn't confirm it. And while I was also sure that his picture depicted the murder, it was the drawings of a six-year-old boy. In court, it wouldn’t hold up as proof. Duncan was right in that it could have been something Aiden had seen on TV. Without Aiden confirming what the picture illustrated and telling me what happened, I didn't have anything to further my investigation into Wally and the identity theft ring.

Was Aiden in danger? That I couldn’t decide. I concurred with Duncan that if Wally and members of the Crew didn’t know what Aiden witnessed, he could be safe. But that was a big if.

The other puzzle was how had the boy seen the murder? How could he have been in Wally’s car and Wally not know he was there? Had Aiden hidden in the car? Why?

I did my best to make the boy feel at ease to share with me, but he was either suspicious of me or shy. I recalled his social worker saying he was quiet. Not that Aiden hadn’t responded at all. If I had more time, I might have earned his trust.

Admittedly, I was a little annoyed that Duncan was surprised by my ability to talk with Aiden. What sort of person did he think I was? Then again, the only thing he'd known about me before tonight was that I like to work out hard and have sex even harder. Once again, I shook my head to rid it of an image of Duncan naked and hard and sweaty as I rode him to my climax.

As I drew closer to Boston, I pulled out my personal phone and pressed the speed dial for my sisters. The youngest, Vanessa and Verity, were twenty-one, living their best lives in Manhattan. They were twins but couldn’t be more different except for the fact that they loved each other dearly. Vanessa was about to start her last semester of college, and it looked like she was about to get a scholarship to attend grad school for a master’s in psychology. Verity wanted to be an actress, and likemost would-be stars, she worked as a waitress to support herself until her big break came.

"Hey, Vron, Merry Christmas, big sis," Verity greeted me.

"Merry Christmas, girls. Did you get the presents I sent?"

"Just a minute, let me get Vanessa. I suppose it won't surprise you to know that she's studying."

It didn’t. And if she wasn’t studying, she’d be reading something to expand her mind. Vanessa loved learning.

A few seconds later, Vanessa said hello, and I chatted with my youngest sisters, getting the tea about their lives. I wasn't an absentee sister, but when I was on the phone with them like this, hearing about their lives, I realized I wasn't as in touch as I'd been when we were all younger. Granted, when we were younger, I spent most of my time making sure they were fed and clothed and had food in their bellies. My mother wasn't horrible or even neglectful. Her problem was she had to work two, sometimes three, jobs to support us. And when she wasn’t working, she had a tendency to get pregnant. I remember when I was seventeen years old, worried my mom was pregnant again, I asked her why she didn't use birth control. Her answer was that she did, most of the time. Luckily, she wasn't pregnant.

When I finished chatting with my youngest sisters, I called my brother Van, who was serving in the Navy in California. His voicemail answered, so I left him a Merry Christmas greeting and my wishes that he was doing well.

Lastly, I called my final sister, Vicki. Yes, my mother liked names that began with V. I didn’t know where it came from considering her name was Carla. Vicki was the next child after me. She came along when I was five. After that, my mother had children eighteen months apart.

Like me, Vicki was independent. When she turned eighteen, she married her high school sweetheart, and they lived in a comfortable, albeit tiny, house on the outskirts of Boston. Theyboth had jobs that didn't pay great, but they worked hard, and they were frugal so they did all right for themselves. It probably helped that they didn't have any children yet, so they didn't have the expense of childcare.

Vicki and I could only chat for a few moments as she was at her in-laws’ home for Christmas, but I was all right with that. As long as I could hear my siblings’ voices and know that they were all okay, that was all I needed.

I had just entered Boston when I poked my phone for my final call. My fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as I waited for her to answer the phone. It was always a little tense calling my mother as I was never sure how she'd be when she answered the phone. My mom liked to let loose on holidays, which meant sometimes she was three sheets to the wind when I called her. My mom hadn't drunk a lot when we were growing up, but I suspect that was mostly because she was working all the time. Now that her kids were grown and on their own, she’d moved to Florida and had the time and money to let loose. I had some concerns about how she lived her life, but since I’d already raised my siblings, I wasn't going to parent my mother.

Like my brother, her voicemail came on and my fingers relaxed on the steering wheel. I wished her a Merry Christmas and then hung up the phone.

When I got to my apartment, I changed into yoga pants and an oversized FBI sweatshirt and was about to pour myself a glass of wine when I remembered how good the hot chocolate was. I decided to make myself a cup, adding a little bit of whiskey to take off the chill.

I heated up leftover takeout that I had gotten the other night and then sat at my kitchen table. As I ate, I jotted down notes from my visit with Aiden. Then I reviewed everything I knew, starting from five years ago when Liam Quinlan walked into my office accusing Wally Creighton of running an identity theftscam that involved stealing the social security numbers of foster care children, Liam’s subsequent murder, until now, Detective Donovan and Darcy Patrick's attempt to find the documents Liam had hidden, and their murders.

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