Public Secrets

out of it was money. She wanted more. What better way than through his son?”
He pushed away from the desk to pace the office and try to figure it out. “If she could have gotten into the house, she would have done it herself. But she was the one person who wouldn’t have been welcome that night. So she found someone else, used whatever lever worked best, and got what she wanted.”
“You sound like you understand her very well.”
Michael thought of his brief, destructive affair with Angie Parks. “I think I do. If we take her at her word that the kidnapping was her idea, then we have to find the connection. She used someone on this list.”
“There were two people in the nursery that night.”
“And one of them had to know their way around the house. He had to know the layout of the rooms upstairs, the McAvoys’ private space. He had to know the kids, the routine. So we look for someone connected to both Jane and Brian.”
“You’re forgetting something, Michael.” Lou leaned back to study his son. “If you penciled your name on this page, how many lines would connect you? Nothing clouds an investigation quicker than personal involvement.”
“And nothing motivates more.” Michael tapped out his cigarette. “I’m not sure I would be a cop today if it hadn’t been for Emma. She came to the house that time. You remember, it was around Christmas. She came to see you.”
“I remember.”

“She was looking for help. There wasn’t a lot anyone could give her, but she came to you. It started me thinking. It wasn’t all filling out forms, making lists. It wasn’t all shoot-outs and collars. It was having people come to you because they knew you’d know what to do. We went to the house in the hills, and I walked through it with her. I understood that there have to be people who know what to do. Who care enough about one small boy they’ve never met to keep trying.”
Touched, Lou looked down at the papers on his desk. “It’s going on twenty years, and I haven’t figured out what to do about this one.”
“What color were Darren McAvoy’s eyes?”
“Green,” Lou answered. “Like his mother’s.”
Smiling a little, Michael rose. “You’ve never stopped trying. I’ve got to pick Emma up at the airport. Can I leave this stuff with you? I don’t want her to see it.”
“Yeah.” He fully intended to go over every word in his son’s report. “Michael.” He glanced up as Michael paused at the door. “You’ve turned out to be a pretty good cop.”
“So have you.”

Chapter Forty-Two

E MMA HAD CONVINCED herself to ease back. Her relationship with Michael was moving too quickly. She would gently pull their relationship back a few notches. Her book was about to be published. It was time to open her own studio, perhaps have another showing.
How did she know her own feelings in any case? Her life had been in too much upheaval. It was easy to mistake love for gratitude and friendship. And she was grateful to him. Always would be. He had been her friend, a constant if distant one for most of her life. Her decision to back off was best for both of them.
She took a firm grip on her camera case as she walked through the gate.
There he was. He saw her the same instant she saw him. All of the practical decisions she’d made over the last three thousand miles vanished. Before she could say his name, he had swooped her off her feet. To the amusement and annoyance of other passengers, he greeted her in silence, blocking most of the gateway.
When she could breathe again, she touched a hand to his cheek. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He kissed her again. “It’s good to see you.”
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“I think it’s over eleven years now.” He turned and started toward the terminal.
“Aren’t you going to put me down?”

“I don’t think so. How was your flight?”
“Smooth.” With a laugh, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Michael, you can’t carry me through the airport.”
“There’s no law against it. I checked. I guess you’ve got luggage.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You want to pick it up now?”
She answered his grin, then settled back to enjoy the ride. “Not particularly.”

T WO HOURS LATER they were in her bed, sharing a bowl of ice cream.
“I’d never developed the habit of eating in bed before I met you.” Emma scooped out a spoonful and offered it. “Marianne and I used to hoard Hershey bars in our room at school. Sometimes we’d sneak them into bed