California Dreaming

Chapter 11

I'm impressed," Rick admits putting down Lily's traveling seat and gazing around John's home. "You did all this yourself?"

"I had friends' help with a few things like painting, but I did most of it on my own. I spent 20 years in construction, much of it as a private contractor," John explains. "And I built my family home from the ground up. When Sarah and I divorced, we sold it as part of the settlement. I used my half on this place. It was such a loss that the bank let it go for practically nothing. So I was able to put the funds into fixing it up."

"Other than your friends, do your fellow cops know you have skills like this?" Rick wonders.

John sighs. "Word gets around. For one thing, I've had to use my previous experience in my new profession. Things like electrical boxes that don't belong jump out at me. I've found them used as drug stashes. So some of the other cops at Mid-Wilshire call me when they need a kitchen island put in or something. But I've gotten to know some local contractors who are struggling the way I did when I started out. So I refer the work to them. And they return the favor by calling me if they spot anything sketchy going on."

"He found a meth lab that way," Bailey announces, coming through the front door. "I was one of the firefighters that knocked down the blaze when it blew. But John and I hadn't met yet. I heard the story later from his training officer. John almost got killed dragging out the builder who tipped him. Being too close to drug labs that go up seems to be a bad habit."

John puts an arm around her waist. "One I would happily break." He spies the bag Kate is carrying. "You come bearing gifts. What's in there?"

"Bwownies," Lily announces, "canlee."

Rick grins. "Bacon brownies and cannoli. Two family favorites."

"I love them too. It must have come through our genes," John declares. "Everything else is almost ready. I just have to drop the pasta." He waves at the seating area. "Make yourselves at home."

Rick and Kate settle on the couch with Lily, while Bailey, without even looking, sinks into a chair nearby. "You seem to know your way around here," Rick notes. "Have you and John been together long?"

"Not that long," Bailey admits. "But we hit it off pretty instantly."

"How did you meet?" Kate asks.

Heat rises in Bailey's face. "I showed up at his door in a towel. Long story, but John was a perfect gentleman. He lent me his L.A.P.D. hoodie, so I guessed he was a cop before he told me. And he helped me get access to my clothes. Then an invitation for drinks turned into an evening with him and his ethics professor trying to help a poor kid John had to arrest. I got to know his heart pretty fast."

"Great story. My editor would never buy it if I put it in a book. But truth can be less plausible than fiction," Rick adds. "It certainly is about John and me."

"We're all set," John calls from behind the kitchen counter. "I used some strapping to attach Lily's seat to a chair. So she should be very secure while we talk." Rick picks up his daughter, and he and Kate follow Bailey to the table. John points to the smaller plate in front of Lily and nods to Rick and Kate. "You can put whatever you think she'd like on that. Henry never turned down pasta when he was her age. But I have a stash of crackers and cereal, just in case."

Kate scoops spaghetti onto Lily's plate and cuts it into smaller strands which Lily attacks with gusto. "This should work fine."

Rick turns to his brother. "You never stop thinking like a father, do you?"

"No, and I wouldn't want to," John declares. "But Rick, you said ours left your mother before you were born. How were you able to describe his appearance, particularly the white hair?"

"We've had some interaction," Rick admits. "I met him once when I was a child but didn't know it at the time. He claims he was around when he could be, keeping track of the family. But I only found out who he is as an adult."

"So he travels a lot. What does he do?" John asks.

Rick squirms uncomfortably. "That's the problem. What he does is classified. As preparation for writing my Storm books, I was granted some contact with classified work myself. But I never knew of our father's connection to it until recently. Still, I know very little about what he actually does, except that he seems to be plugged into almost everything. And what I do know, I'm not allowed to share with anyone who hasn't been read in – not even my brother."

"Oh, I get it," John acknowledges. "Much of what I do is supposed to remain confidential as well, or else a lot of witnesses would be afraid to talk to us. But, unfortunately, not everyone involved in investigations seems to be as conscientious about keeping their mouths shut as they should be. Sometimes a leak puts the bad guys three steps ahead."

Lily bangs on her plate with her spoon. "No bad guys!"

John chuckles. "We do our best. But Rick, is there anything you can tell me?"

"A lot of it was in the genetics report. Did you get the copy I texted to you?"

"I did. And it looks like if Henry's problems were genetic, they must have come from Sarah's side. That must have been a relief to you. And it was interesting that it confirmed what you thought about French ancestry. But that doesn't tell me much about the man himself. What's he like?"

Rick leans his elbow on the table, supporting his chin with his fist. "He is no one you would ever want after you. That much I know. He's also a person who can pop up any moment if someone he cares about is in trouble. And I also know that if I had his job, I wouldn't sleep very well at night. But if I were his target, I wouldn't want to sleep at all."

"But he's one of the good guys, right?" Bailey asks.

"I suppose that depends on how you define good guys. But yes," Rick replies. "I'd like to think so."

"Good guys," Lily beams. "Like good guys."

Rick runs his fingers over her silky locks. "Out of the mouths of babes."

Jack is instantly awake at the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He grabs for the pistol a few inches from his bed. Then, at the sound of a familiar cadence, he relaxes slightly but still grasps his weapon as he brings up the view from the hall's tiny camera on his phone.

His face splits in a grin. Azra! She must have caught the first available transport from New York. He hadn't given her his address and has no idea how she found out. But he's well aware she has methods and sources even he doesn't know. And he still keeps a few tricks up his own sleeve.

"You can put down the gun," she remarks as he opens the door, "at least the one in your hand."

Jack jams the pistol into his waistband at the small of his back. "You made good time."

"Multiple agencies are jumping on the situation, Jack," she explains. "They couldn't wait to send me. The State Department already reached out to the L.A.P.D. They're expecting me at nine in the morning. But that gives us a few hours to ourselves."

Jack lifts her over the threshold. "Then let's not waste them."