Tyler O’Neill’s Redemption (12 page)

She put on her mirrored aviator glasses and stepped out of her sedan into the humidity of the September afternoon.

Ready to face down Tyler O’Neill.

The grass crunched under her boots and she gathered great strength from imagining it being Tyler’s testicles.

“Miguel,” she said as she approached, the sharpness in her voice surprising even her. Both Miguel and Tyler jumped as if she’d fired her weapon at them.

Not a great start, but she didn’t apologize, not even when Miguel blew out a shaky breath and tried to laugh. “Wow, Chief,” he said. “You about killed me.”

“You ready to go?” she asked. She hated the sound of her voice, all the hard and brittle edges, barely camouflaging her feelings about Tyler more than if she just threw herself on the grass and cried.

Not as cool as she wanted to be. At all.

“Sure,” Miguel said, shooting Tyler a puzzled glance. “Let me get my stuff.”

As soon as he left, Juliette’s skin shrank a size and she was painfully aware that she was alone with Tyler. And that he was staring at her. “I need a favor,” she said, watching him through her sunglasses, grateful for the barrier. “I have an appointment with Nora Sullivan from the Office of Community Services—”

“I remember Nora,” he said, and shuddered. She forced herself not to smile, because Nora’s demeanor was chilly to say the least.

“It’s Wednesday morning. Can you keep an eye on Miguel and his sister?”

“Isn’t it a school day?” he asked.

Juliette nodded. “I need to know where he is, and he’ll skip if he knows I’m meeting with Nora that day.”

“So don’t tell him.”

“I promised him I would. And frankly, I’ve broken a lot of promises to Miguel. I don’t want to break this one.”

Tyler’s gaze was a warm weight, comforting, and she didn’t want to be comforted. Not by him. “Will you do it?” she demanded, sounding like a bully. Like her father.

Tyler sighed, looking out over The Manor, not answering.

“You want me to beg?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he said, “but I don’t think I deserve to be treated this way.”

He was right, which gave her a moment of hot shame, but then she was only further pissed off. Like she needed a lesson in manners from him.

“Please,” she said. “Can you help me?”

“Of course.” He was so reasonable, calm, which made her feel even smaller and more petty. Nervous. Terrified of what would happen if she let go of all her anger, the years of cold comfort her hate had brought her.

“Thanks,” she said, sounding about as gracious as a rock. He continued to watch her, and the ghosts of the past, the pains and pleasures, suddenly haunted the air around them.

“Juliette,” he said, his voice soft and much closer than it should be.

“Don’t,” she whispered, and stepped away, sensing something awful on the tip of his tongue. Something that would change how she felt about him. How she dealt with him. “Don’t do this—”

“Juliette, I’m sorry.”

For the kiss,
she thought, and she almost laughed. Almost screamed, actually, because she was a total mess and he tore down all her walls, ran through all her doors.

“I’m sorry for the way I left,” he said. “Ten years ago.”

Her head went light and she was dizzy.
Now he apologizes?
she thought, feeling shaky and furious. Her knees trembled, weakened, but she locked them. The urge to look at him, to lift her glasses and stare point-blank into his eyes and read his regret like a book, was so powerful she had to clench her hands into fists to keep herself from doing it.

Instead, she stared at a honeybee’s slow climb over a blade of grass.

“I was a kid and I was scared. I was…terrified, actually, because you were going to give up Oklahoma State, for me. For us. And I knew I wasn’t worth you doing that. I wasn’t worth any of what you gave me.”

Her mind was a vacuum, an empty wasteland of bitter memory. A stinging melancholy filled her, pushing aside her anger.

“Jules,” he breathed. “Please say something.”

Finally she looked at him, her hungry eyes seeing all of his contrition and anxiety. He needed her to accept this apology, she realized, far more than she needed to hear it.

Which surprised her and made her only more sad that they were who they were to each other.

“Am I supposed to forgive you now?” she asked, her voice shaken. “You apologize, I say no problem and…what? We’re friends? Or maybe…more?”

“I have no motives, Juliette.”

“
Please,
” she nearly howled. “Tyler O’Neill with no motives. Who are you kidding?”

His lips were tight, white in the corners, and she relished those small signs of his distress.

“Fine.” She shrugged. What did it matter in the end—apology or not, their future was nonexistent. Putting the past to bed made no difference. “Your apology is accepted.”

“You’re lying,” he said. “You don’t forgive me at all—”

“You’re not asking for forgiveness,” she said. “And you’re right. I don’t forgive you. But I accept your apology, because it doesn’t change anything, Tyler. Just like the kiss. Nothing is different. You’re still you.”

“Notorious O’Neill,” he spat, and she nodded.

“The worst of them.”

His eyes narrowed. Hardened. “And you’re still you,” he said, leaning closer, his breath fanning her face, the smell of him going right to her knees. Her head. Her stupid heart.

“And I’ve got your number,” he whispered. “You want to pretend that kiss meant nothing, fine. It was nothing. But I’m not the one who walked in here with a favor and mirrored sunglasses and a chip on her shoulder, so if you want to pretend that nothing’s different, feel free. But I’m not buying it, Jules. I’m on to you.”

His anger struck hers and shot sparks all over the yard. She couldn’t breathe for the tension between them. The sudden wild temptation to crush her lips to his and take out this fury on him.

“It doesn’t have to be this hard, Jules,” he said, his eyes on her lips, the pounding of her heart in her throat. “I can be your dirty little secret again.”

Miguel cleared the corner.

Oh, thank God.

She turned around and headed for the car, the taste of blood in her mouth from where she’d bitten her lip.

“Let’s go,” she said to Miguel, not looking at Tyler, putting as much distance as she could between them. Between her and the apology she’d been waiting ten years for. And the truth that he’d seen in her, despite her efforts to hide it all.

Her hands shaking, she pulled open the door of her car.

A few moments later, Miguel slid in beside her and a shadow fell over her face. She knew without looking that Tyler stood beside her car, blocking out the sun, taunting her because he could.

“You okay?” Miguel asked.

“Just great,” she said. She lifted her glasses to the top of her head and turned to look at Tyler, gilded with sunshine and charm, a beautiful, faithless Apollo sent to ruin her life. Again.

He’s helping you,
some unwanted sensible voice pointed out.
He’s doing what you couldn’t ask anyone else in this town to do, so how about you drop the bitch routine and act like a decent person?

She didn’t want to be sensible. She didn’t want to be forgiving or humble. The high road had no interest for her, because she had the terrible feeling that accepting this apology might lead to forgiving him, which might lead to spending time with him. Which might lead places she had no business going.

Nope, she’d keep her anger and stick to the low road. Where she was safer.

Only Tyler,
she thought, torn between exasperation and uncomfortable fondness.

I can be your dirty little secret again.

His words lived on in her body, stoking fires that had long been cold.

And it would be driving her out of her mind if Juliette didn’t have much bigger problems to deal with.

She had Nora Sullivan and the potential destruction of her career to worry about.

At some point during her sleepless night she had made up her mind that she wasn’t going to make anything difficult for Nora, she was just going to rip the bandage, as it were, right off, instead of pulling it back one careful, painful piece at a time.

And maybe today she’d get some kind of sign, an answer about her doubts that she was right for this job.

But twenty minutes later when Nora Sullivan walked in Juliette’s office, Juliette had a brief panic. In a glance, she knew why Miguel ran. Hell, Juliette felt like running. Nora looked like the kind of woman who knew how to give bad news and didn’t mind doing it.

Unbelievably, the woman wore a pink silky shirt with a little lace at the neck. She was like a bulldog with a ruffled collar.

“Nora,” Juliette said, standing up at her desk to shake the woman’s hand, trying her damndest to get this meeting off on even footing. “Thanks for coming in.”

“It’s my job,” Nora said, and sat in the chair opposite Juliette’s desk. Nora wasted no time before taking a file from her briefcase and moving Juliette’s nameplate and her academy mug filled with pens and highlighters to the side.

Make yourself at home,
Juliette thought, trying to keep her cool while Nora opened the file.

“You’re younger than I expected,” Nora said.

Juliette had heard that a lot, but now she wondered for the first time if it was a problem. “I worked harder than most to get here,” she said. “My age has not affected my work.”

Nora pursed her lips. “Well, it certainly explains some of the mistakes you’ve made with Miguel.” She bent back to her file while Juliette seethed with embarrassment and self-consciousness. “We got a call—”

“From whom?” Juliette asked.

Nora glanced at Juliette through thin blond eyelashes. “That’s confidential.”

Juliette knew that, but hearing about that anonymous tip sparked her anger and she sat in her chair, surrounded by the portraits of the chiefs that came before her, including her father, and fumed.

“Nora, I was hoping we could make this as easy as possible—”

Nora sat back. “You were?” she asked. “Your actions previous to this meeting would suggest a total unwillingness to make this process easier.”

Juliette’s stomach dropped into her knees.

It’s going to be like that, is it?

“We’ve started the investigation process and opened a file on Miguel Pastor and his sister,” Nora continued. “According to school records, Miguel’s had some truancy issues. Nothing too alarming and his grades are good. His sister—”

Juliette held up her hand. “I’ll tell you what I know,” she said, and she grabbed the edge of that Band-Aid and ripped.

She told Nora about Miguel’s trying to steal the car, how Tyler didn’t press charges. About the informal community service and finally about Miguel’s father. The abuse.

“Are there medical records substantiating the abuse?”

Juliette shook her head. “He lied, and I let him,” she said, meeting Nora’s disapproving eyes. “We knew the doctors would call the office of community services and Miguel was adamant about not going to foster care. He worried about he and his sister getting split up—”

“He ran when he saw me that day at the O’Neill house.”

“I found him. I mean, I’ve never been worried about where to find him,” Juliette said, each word sounding like a lame excuse. A tired reason. Every single thing she thought had been right, was now, clearly, so damn wrong. “But I was worried about what kind of trouble would have found him first.”

Nora nodded and sat back in her chair, the soft morning sunlight softening her face, but not her eyes. Her eyes were double-barreled shotguns, pointing right at Juliette.

“You realize as an officer of the law you are a mandated reporter of child abuse.”

“I…do. Yes.”

“Had the abuse been more serious, you could lose your job.”

Juliette nodded. “I understood the risks I was taking.”

Nora snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know what galls me?” Nora asked. “What really worries me about this situation? You let a scared sixteen-year-old boy dictate your actions.”

“I was trying to keep him out of Department of Corrections. We don’t have programs or services in place to help kids,” Juliette said.

“The Parish does,” Nora said. “I am a part of a program designed to help kids. I understand that he was scared. And I agree—he was a flight risk. But you are the adult, and you didn’t do your job.”

Juliette nodded, shamed into silence that buzzed painfully in her ears.

“What happens now?” she finally asked.

“I’m going to visit Ramon Pastor and let him know that community services has opened a file on Miguel and Louisa. And that should there be any more instances of abuse or attempted crime, we’ll remove the child from his home. We’ll enroll the family in counseling—”

“Ramon won’t go,” Juliette said.

“You don’t know that,” Nora said, her thin lips tight. “And frankly, your assumptions have led us to this mess. But if Miguel’s father does not make efforts to keep his children, then we will find foster homes for the kids.”

Juliette groaned. “He’ll die without his sister. I’m telling you, Miguel is a good kid, a sweet kid who is trying hard to stay that way, but you take his sister away and pretty soon he’ll end up in DOC because he deserves to.”

Nora nodded in stern sympathy. “Sadly, there are problems that arise, but with a good community support—”

“We don’t have community support,” Juliette said, feeling her face get hot with panic. “That’s what I’m trying to say. We have no system in place to help a kid like Miguel.”

“It seems to me you do,” Nora said, looking down at her file. “Tyler O’Neill. Trust me, systems in other towns all started with a citizen like Mr. O’Neill—someone who has the time, energy and inclination to help. You can grow your own system, Chief Tremblant.”

With Tyler as the seed? It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Giving money to down-and-out musicians and funding the cost for new homes was not the same as an outreach program for at-risk kids.

Unwanted, the thought of his face sitting at that breakfast counter between Louisa and Miguel seared her brain.

Sure,
she thought bitterly,
he could do it. Kids like him. Trust him. But would he do it? For extended periods of time?
The answer resounding emphatically through her body was no.

“Another place to start is in your own department,” Nora said. “Designate one of your employees to be a family officer, to act as a liaison between myself and—”

“I’ll do that,” she said quickly.

“That’s good.” Nora slid a card across the desk toward Juliette. “As chief, that sends a powerful message to the community that you’re involved.”

Something bright bubbled in Juliette’s chest, a potent mix of hope and satisfaction.

This was good, she realized. This was how she was going to be police chief her way.

“Contact Officer Rhodes in Ellicott City. He’s the family officer there and he has an excellent system in place. He was in the same bind you are in a few years ago.”

Juliette stared down at the card and decided to take the bulls by the horn. “Will there be some kind of action taken against me for not reporting the abuse?”

“I have to put a letter of reprimand in your file. But I’ll decide what else needs to be done after I talk to Miguel.” She began to pack up her briefcase, every movement efficient and clipped. “He’s not at school today. Neither is his sister.” She arched her light eyebrows. “I am assuming you know where we can find them?”

Juliette nodded and stood, numb to the anxiety and worry. To the strange embarrassment of having been proven not so clever after all.

“I’ll drive,” she said.