On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

know if she was lying to me or Kyle was lying to her." His lips tightened. "She is so angry. I feel terrible for what she's going through, but she won't let me help her. She blamed me for Kyle's death."
    "That may change with time," she said gently, wishing she could ease some of the pain in his eyes. "Vicky needs someone to blame. But you need to figure out if she's blaming the right person."
    Shadows darkened his blue eyes. "It's possible the decisions I made that day were wrong, that I wasn't seeing the situation clearly. What I do remember suggests something else was happening. It's not really about who is to blame. I just need to know."
    She could see the anguish in his eyes and wondered if his mind was protecting him in some way. Maybe he wasn't remembering because he just couldn't go to that terrible place in his head. Was she doing him a favor by helping him? Or was she going to end up hurting him?
    "I don't want to get anyone from the Redding crew involved in whatever we're going to do. I've already talked to the people I trust the most. And the others I've read what they had to say. If something was going on with Kyle, he took great pains to hide it, and I want to make sure I don't inadvertently smear his name on my way to the truth."
    She nodded, thinking about the best way to proceed with such little information. "I've worked with a private investigator on cases for my firm, Jeanne Randolph. She's an ex-cop with a lot of really good connections. I can call her and see if she can help."
    "I'll pay whatever she charges."
    "Okay." Wanting to lighten the mood, she added, "You'll like her. She's blonde."
    The shadows lifted from his eyes. "That's not actually a requirement," he said dryly.
    "Could have fooled me. I never saw you with anyone who didn't have golden hair."
    "Maybe when I was in high school," he conceded. He paused. "There's one other thing, Sara. I don't want my family to know what I'm doing, and that includes Emma. So if you don't think you can keep her out of it, we should stop right now."
    She had a choice to make. Emma wouldn't like her keeping a secret that involved her brother. Then again, she was trying to help Aiden. He didn't want to involve his family or his fire crew, which didn't leave him with many options. All that aside, it was Aiden, and he wanted her help, and there was no way she was going to say no. "I won't tell Emma," she said, meeting his waiting gaze. "This is your business, and I'll respect that."
    "And you'll respect that whatever we find out will be mine to decide what to do with? Because I may do nothing."
    "Not even if the truth will clear your name?"
    "That depends on whether that truth will hurt Kyle."
    She admired his loyalty to his friend, and she hoped he wouldn't have to make that choice. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
    "So how do we start?"
    "I'll call Jeanne. I'd like to get some of Kyle's information first, name, birthdate, any other information you have like a social security number or a driver's license?"
    "I don't know that I have any of that," Aiden said.
    "Jeanne is good at working with very little. Let's get some paper. I'm sure my father must have some in his study."
    They went downstairs and entered the room that had always been her father's private sanctuary. Stepping through the doorway, Sara felt very much like an intruder. "I can't remember the last time I was in here," she muttered, glancing around the room. Her father's den was very male with a big mahogany desk by the window, shelves and shelves of books, mostly law books, although there were a few other nonfiction and biographies in the mix. Her father was all about facts. No fiction for him.
    A brown leather couch and a coffee table were on the adjacent wall. Like the other rooms in the house, this one was neat and organized. The only sign of life was a stack of recent mail that her father had placed in his in-box. She smiled cynically. Her father had always been most comfortable when he was working, so he'd created an actual office in his home, his place of retreat.
    Aiden nudged her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
    "Just thinking about how this room was probably the only room in the house where my father felt at home."
    "It's a man-cave," he agreed. "A little on the boring side, but it suits your dad." He paused. "Not your mom, though. She was warm, friendly. I remember all the times your mom and Lynda would sit at our kitchen table with their tea and cookies. They'd talk for hours."
    "My