Jennifer L. Hart - Southern Pasta Shop 02 - Murder À La Flambé (18 page)

"Mr. Jones." Detective Brown made his way toward us. "I see you got my messages."

"I'm happy to help however I can." Jones rose and offered his hand to Darryl. The two men shook, but it wasn't a friendly gesture, more like something you'd see between army-navy rivals before the big game.

"If you'll come with me."

I jumped up, but Brown shook his head. "Wait here please, Andy."

"But—" I began.

Jones tilted my chin to meet his gaze. "I'll be all right. See you in a bit?"

The last thing I wanted was to spend time by myself ruminating on all that had happened and fretting over whether the detective would arrest my man. But Jones was right. He was innocent, and he hadn't done anything illegal. Besides, it didn't look like I'd been given much of a choice.

After resettling myself in the hard plastic chair, I fidgeted uncomfortably. Steve Muller stopped by and handed me a cup of coffee. It was bitter and had that nasty mineral essence, like when the pot hasn't been washed in a while, but it helped warm my chilly and aching hands.

A commotion from the front of the building caught my attention. Male voices raised in agitation, and a woman screeched indignantly. Curious and in need of a distraction, I set my paper cup down on the floor and went to investigate.

Several teenagers were being led into the station house, followed by older men and women who were doing the majority of the shouting. The kids looked scared, eyes big as they took in the bustle around them. There was nothing especially unique or vicious looking about them. I wondered if they'd been caught skipping school or maybe shoplifting. I recognized Joey Randal, the mayor's nephew, in the mix. The entire Randal family was about as complicated as plain white bread. It couldn't be too bad with Joey in the mix, probably just normal teenager stuff.

Then my blood flash froze as I recognized a familiar pink-and-black backpack.

Kaylee stood in the middle of the pack of miscreants, wide eyed and looking on the verge of a breakdown.

"What is this?" I demanded of a nearby officer. "What did she do?"

"She's under arrest. They all are." The officer gave me a matter-of-fact glance, obviously believing I was one of the irate parents.

"On what charge?" I snapped, eyes darting to Kaylee.

The guy scowled down at me. "Who are you?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say "Her mother," but I bit it back. Where was Barbara? She should be here demanding answers, not me.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

I whirled and was actually relieved to see the sheriff's uniform. "What's going on here?"

Kaylee called his name, and I was stunned to see Kyle turn away from her as he pulled me aside. "It seems Beaverton has its first gang."

"Gang? You can't be serious. It's a bunch of kids. Besides, Kaylee wouldn't join a gang."

"I'm afraid it's the truth." His expression had gone stony. "It seems part of their initiation is to burn down a building. And our daughter was found with them."

No-Bake Ziti

You'll need:

3 oz prosciutto

1 pound extra-lean ground beef

1 large onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 fresh tomatoes, diced

24 oz spaghetti sauce

1 1/2 cups water

3 cups ziti, uncooked

1 cup mozzarella, shredded

1/4 cup grated cheese for topping

Brown prosciutto in large deep skillet until crisp; remove from skillet. Drain on paper towels. Add ground beef, onions, and garlic to skillet; cook until meat is browned, stirring occasionally.

Crumble prosciutto. Add half to meat mixture in skillet with the tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, and water. Mix well. Cover, and bring to boil.

Stir in pasta, and let simmer, covered, on medium-low heat 20 minutes or until pasta is tender, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat.

Top with cheese and remaining prosciutto. Let stand, covered, 5 minutes or until cheese is melted. Top with grated cheese, and serve.

**Andy's note: This is a quick, flavorful dish that won't heat up the house on a hot summer day.

A gang in Beaverton? That made as much sense as serving cheese with a fish course—the two concepts just didn't mix. And Kaylee as part of it? She was only sixteen. Of course kids sometimes got involved with gangs at a younger age than that, but she was new to town and had spent all her free time at the pasta shop. When would she have even come across this alleged gang?

The whole idea was ludicrous. Too many things just didn't add up. I stood back and watched as the police and sheriff addressed the irate throng of parents.

"My son ain't part of a gang, Kyle Landers," a woman called out in a two-pack-a-day voice. "You've known me and Lance since high school, for cryin' out loud! You reckon we'd let Dalton run wild like that?"

I blinked, stunned. Holy macaroni, the woman was Dotty Roberts. I remembered Dotty and Lance from my time at Beaverton High. They'd been as tight in high school as Kyle and I had been. And their son was Kaylee's age, the older boy in the mix.

The last sixteen years hadn't been kind to Dotty. She'd always been petite, but her small frame didn't seem to carry an ounce of extra weight anymore. Her skin sagged over knobby bones, and she had dark circles under her eyes. The inch and a half of black-and-white roots that had grown only made her bad dye job worse. I barely stifled a shudder at my own narrow miss. I would probably have looked just as used up with a teenage kid driving me around the bend if Kyle and I had gotten married right out of high school.

My gaze slid to Kaylee, and I realized maybe I hadn't escaped that fate entirely.

The sheriff put his hands in the air, patting it in a classic simmer-down gesture. "Now you all know this isn't personal. We need to talk to the kids and to each of you, one at a time. A legal guardian must be present during each interview."

Of course, neither Kyle nor I counted in Kaylee's case. We were her parents, but no one knew that, and we were not her legal guardians. I fished my phone out of my pocket, fully intending to call Barbara and half-surprised she wasn't present already, shouting down the injustice of it all. Then again, Barbara wasn't exactly a shouter. I did another scan of the room to be sure I hadn't overlooked her on the first pass.

Kaylee's adoptive mother was a large-animal vet. They owned a horse farm, which they were trying to sell. Had she gone out of town to handle some real estate business? We'd talked a few times over the phone, and the demure but quiet woman got on better with animals than she did with people. After the week I had, I could understand the appeal.

Someone touched my shoulder, and I turned to see Jones taking in the chaos. "What's happening out here?"
"The usual. All hell breaking loose." Barbara's voice mail picked up, the prerecorded message telling me she was out on a medical emergency, and I hung up and sent her a text message with all the pertinent details.

Kyle sent me a look as he escorted the first kid and his parents to the interrogation room.

"Do you want to stay?" Jones asked.

I was torn. As much as I wanted to be there for her, I wasn't her legal guardian, and my presence on top of Kyle's might only make things worse for her. As though she read my mind, Kaylee looked my way. I saw horror and then defiance flash across her face before she turned away. It was obvious she didn't want me there.

But hadn't I missed out on enough of her life already? Maybe my showing support was what she needed, even if it wasn't what she wanted.

Tough toenails, kid. I'm done playing by your rules.
I blew out a breath and then squared my shoulders before turning to face Jones. "Yeah, I'll stick around for a bit."

"Do you want company?" he asked.

I studied him for a minute, trying to read his expression. Outwardly he looked as calm and cool as always, but there was a restlessness to him, lurking just beneath the surface. "I do, but I get the feeling there's somewhere else you need to be. Did everything go all right with Detective Brown?"

Jones shrugged one shoulder. "About what I expected. Don't leave town. He'll be in touch. With an additional warning that I should keep out of the investigation."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to ignore that last one?"

"Because you are both beautiful and clever. Text me if you need me." Jones brushed a quick kiss across my lips and left before I had a chance to ask where he was going. The man always left me wanting more. It was practically his trademark.

The initial pandemonium of the room had died down. I was surprised to see Kyle reemerge from the interview room. He looked over at Kaylee, hesitated, and then came to stand beside me.

"I don't know what to do for her," he confessed. "When I heard about it on the radio, all I could think was that I needed to be here for her. Now that I am, I'm afraid to single her out in any way."

I huffed out a breath. "Believe me—I'm having the same problem. I just tried to get a hold of Barbara, but she didn't pick up."

Kyle grimaced. "She's out on an emergency call, at least according to her office. No cell service there. They sent someone out to get a hold of her, but she can't be there right away."

I looked back at Kaylee, who sat alone on the edge of a wooden bench, hair hanging over her face. At least they'd taken the handcuffs off her. "She looks so scared and alone."

She did, too. While the other kids were surrounded by angry family members, Kaylee's solitary corner remained quiet. She stared down at her pink-and-black sneakers, her teeth biting into her lower lip.

"It'd go better if you were the one to go over to her," Kyle said.

"Why do you think that? Because I'm the woman?" I asked.

"No, because you're her employer, and I'm the sheriff. As much as I want to offer her comfort, I don't want to draw attention to her."

I swallowed and then nodded. "Wish me luck."

Kaylee didn't look up as I approached, didn't say anything when I sat beside her on the bench.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"I want my mom," she whispered.

"Kyle's trying to reach her through her office, and I sent her a text message. I'm sure she'll be here as soon as she finds out what's going on."

Her lip trembled, and she bit it again, trying to keep from crying.

I huffed out a breath and put my arms around her. Screw the gossip—my kid needed support. And she was my kid, in all her dumbassery. Barbara was her mom, but she was mine too, and it was about time I laid claim to her.

She didn't even hesitate, just fell against me, sobbing for all she was worth.

I whispered soothing things and petted her curly dark hair. Told her over and over again that it would be all right, that she'd make it through all of this.

I lost track of time, when she finally pulled away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snot all over you."

"Snot isn't a verb," I corrected her and fished a tissue from my pocket.

That got me an eye roll and a watery laugh. "You know what I meant."

"I do." Since the ice was officially broken, I decided to jump in with both feet. "Did you know about the gang?"

She shook her head. "No. There was talk, but kids are just stupid like that, you know? They say all sorts of stuff that isn't true. I thought they were some cool guys hanging out. And they wanted to hang with me. I don't have any friends here."

I opened my mouth to protest, then realized I was being an idiot. She meant friends her own age. "When did you start to hang out with them?"

"Just over the weekend."

I had to ask the next part to know what we were dealing with, even though I was terrified of the answer. "Did you find out they were setting the fires?"

A tear slid down Kaylee's cheek. "I didn't want to be a rat."

I groaned inwardly so she wouldn't hear it. "Kid, this is so not cool."

"But I didn't
do
anything." There was a half-hysterical note in her voice. "I swear I didn't."

"I believe you. But you should have told someone. Me, Kyle, Aunt Cecily, Pops, your mom, anyone. People died because of what they did, not to mention thousands of dollars' worth of property damage." I stopped myself there before I went all maternal and lectured her. She knew she'd screwed up. Taking out my worry on her wasn't going to help either of us. Instead, I took a deep breath and changed tactics. "Will you tell Kyle what you know about everything? Maybe he can help you."

"Dalton's gonna hate me." She looked across the room to where Dotty sat with a sullen-faced teenager. The kid was the spitting image of Lance, all shaggy dark hair, high cheekbones, and pouty lips. I was beginning to get a clearer picture of why she'd wanted to hang out with them in the first place.

Freaking hormones.

Well, kibitzing over reality wasn't going to help. "He might."

She glared at me. "Thanks a heap."

I shrugged. "I'm not about to lie to you. Loyalty is great, but you have to make sure the person you're loyal to is worthy. And you have to look out for yourself first. A real friend gets that and wants to protect you, not put you in danger." Again, I bit off the rant before it could take over. Frothing at the mouth wouldn't win me any points with the cops or Kaylee.

Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, then pressed shut as she glanced away. A full minute passed. I saw the station house clock on the wall behind her. Then finally, she nodded. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"

"Whatever you want, kid. You want to sit here in silence, we can do that."

She smiled, but it faded fast.

I put my hand on her arm. "Talk to me. Tell me what it is that makes you pull back like that."

Her eyes were locked on my hand on her arm. "Are you ashamed of me?"

My mouth dropped open. If she'd picked up the bench and whacked me with it, I couldn't have been more surprised. "What?"

She shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "You and Kyle. You both insisted I not tell anybody that I'm your daughter. Is that because I embarrass you?"

"Kaylee, of course not. How could you even think…" Then I thought about it myself and would have slapped my own forehead for being such an idiot. "Honey, no. Believe me when I say we would both love to shout from the rooftops that you're our kid."

She didn't look as though she believed me. "Then why haven't you? Why does it have to be this big secret?"

"It doesn't. Not if you don't want it to be. We, as in me, Kyle, and your mom, thought it would be easier for you if no one knew about your relationship to us. Not many people knew I'd even had you, you know? Beaverton is a small town, and once the truth is out, then everyone will know. There'll be all these nosy questions and people wanting to intrude. Are you sure you want that?"

She looked away, but I caught a flush creeping up her cheeks. "I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"Kaylee," I instructed, "look at me."

She did, and I saw the gleam of hope in her eyes.

My heart was beating hard as I asked her again. "Do you want me and Kyle to shout from the rooftops that you're our kid?"

Slowly, she nodded.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed.

"Who are you calling?" She looked half-horrified at the phone. "The press?"
"No, nothing like that. Just reinforcements."

Pops and Aunt Cecily arrived a few minutes later. There was a great deal of bilingual cussing and several Italian hand gestures that were almost as vulgar. Pops threatened to sue the pants off anyone in shouting distances. Aunt Cecily threatened to put The Eye on the entire gang so all their dangly parts would shrivel "like the raisins." It was loud and dramatic and more than a little humiliating, but by the time Barbara arrived, my kid knew she had a family who cared.

Certifiable though we all were.

Kyle pulled me aside. "What's going on here?"

"Kaylee needs her family around her right now."

The sheriff glared at me. "So what, you're just coming out with it now? Need I remind you that you were the one who didn't want the entire town to know?"

"No. You don't. I remember. But what all of us failed to consider was how Kaylee would feel about it. She came here looking for her family, Kyle. And as freaking dysfunctional as we are, we've been pushing her away."

Kyle shook his head. "This isn't the time. She's in so much trouble already, and if it comes out that she's my kid—"

"That's the problem though, Kyle. It will come out. One way or another, and if you wait, you'll only dig yourself deeper. This is what she wants. It's what I want, and I know it's what you want. Embrace the zaniness of our family reunion."

Kyle sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "When my parents hear about this…"

But then he stopped complaining, squared his shoulders, and went to claim his daughter fully.

"Sheriff?" Detective Brown called. "I need to talk to you."

I put a hand on Darryl's arm. "Give him a second. He's bonding with his daughter."

"His what now?" The detective did a double take as he looked at me.