With a sad smile, she met Lila’s concerned gaze and said, “But the good news is that we both know I can handle it if I have to do so.”

  “I’d feel better if you’d gotten a restraining order out against him.”

  “It could have ruined his career, which would have unhinged him, and then I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.” Some men, like Desmond, like her father, you could bargain with. They’d go away if you left their lives intact.

  The only problem was, her way, her mother’s way, of dealing with the problem put others at risk. Jasmine lived with that knowledge. And knew that Lila supported her choices, regardless. Even if Desmond had gotten convicted, a first offense, for a dedicated cop...he’d have had a slap of the wrist at best. He could have lost his job, but even that wasn’t a foregone conclusion. They had programs for officers who’d committed domestic violence. Some that allowed them to remain on the job. And Desmond had been so careful to skate on the line, but not cross it completely. He’d never actually landed a blow with the hand he’d raised to her.

  “I’ve still got some work to do in my classroom, with the rearranging,” she said. “Maybe Detective Johnson will call in that time.”

  “If he doesn’t, why don’t you and Bella join me for dinner? Here. In my suite.”

  That Lila would stay for her—and Jasmine knew full well that was what the director was offering—meant more than she’d probably ever know. The director’s support, her belief in Jasmine, helped Jasmine to believe in herself.

  Nodding, she told Lila she’d call her within the hour to let her know if they’d be staying or not.

  * * *

  Greg called Jasmine Taylor back after he got out of the shower, still standing in his bathroom in his underwear. His call to Lila had been on the way home from his climb. It didn’t completely surprise him that the managing director had gone straight to her employee.

  Maybe he’d known she would. Maybe that’s why he’d called her first. To know that someone would have Jasmine’s back in his stead.

  She expected it to be him. It wasn’t going to be. But she wouldn’t be left adrift, either.

  “You want to know about me, I’ve lain my life open to you,” she started in, obviously recognizing his number on her cell as soon as she picked up. “I told you I’d tell you anything you wanted to know. Come search my home. Take my computer and analyze it, if you need to. But don’t... Please, Greg, I’m asking you not to go around talking to everyone I’ve ever known.”

  “I’m an investigator. Talking to people about other people is what I do.”

  “I’m not the one on trial here.”

  “No, but I believe you’re holding things back from me.” He gave it to her straight. Sometimes it was the best way. “I need to know what and why. Someone you or Josh knows might know what neither of you are telling me. I’m talking to people he knows, too, by the way.”

  “You’re not involving Play for the Win, I hope—at least any more than you can help. Ultimately, we want you to do whatever you need to do to get to the truth so these charges can be dropped, but...”

  Turning his back on his face and near nudity in the mirror, Greg leaned his butt against the counter, looking at the unmade bed. He’d meant to put the sheets in the wash before he’d left that morning.

  “So you understand that I need to talk to people,” he said.

  “I’m not afraid of what you’ll find out, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “But...you bringing me up to other people—look, I’ve had some people in my life that might be only too glad to give you false impressions, which is fine, you’d have to figure out what to believe, but in at least one case, there could be other repercussions...”

  Sounded a hell of a lot like drama to him.

  “Someone else is going to be hurt if I talk to them about you?” he said, trying to decipher fact from supposed fear. Or imagined scenarios. Not that she’d given him any reason to believe that she had Liv’s vivid imagination when it came to fearing the worst.

  “Look. I just... I really appreciate that you’re searching for the truth like you told me you would. I appreciate that more than you might ever understand. But...could you just hold off long enough for us to talk about this?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “I’m still at school. At the Stand. Anyone can walk in... I need to get Bella from daycare. It might be better if we do this later.”

  “Your brother has a hearing on Thursday.”

  “I know. I’m not... We can talk tonight if you’d like. Maybe it would be better in person. So you can watch my body language or whatever you do. Bella’s bedtime call is at eight. If you come right after that, we’ll have whatever time you need, uninterrupted. And you can look at my computer or whatever else then, too, if you’d like. I’ll give you whatever records you want or need. Just, please...hear me out...before you contact anyone else...”

  He hadn’t planned to make any further calls that night anyway.

  “Why do you think I’m holding back on you?” Her question came while he was still pondering the advisability of doing what he wanted to do and taking her up on her offer to look at her computer. He didn’t have a warrant. But he would like to get a peek at any emails between her and her brother—not that she wouldn’t delete any incriminating ones before she gave him access.

  Why did he think she was holding out on him? Her question hung there.

  “There are patterns...things that victims experience kind of globally, not all of course, but a lot, and I see none of those for Josh. He grew up in an abusive home. Where are his issues? No one’s as perfect as you make him out to be.” Why this woman brought out the straight truth from him sometimes, he didn’t know. But he noted it happening. Would keep an eye on it.

  “Of course he has issues. He’ll discuss them with you if you ask.”

  “I can’t talk to him without his lawyer present, and his lawyer is advising him to say nothing.”

  Which meant that her brother’s lawyer would probably tell her to remain silent, as well. She could very well be realizing that herself. “I talked to Heidi today. She brought up some things that need explaining,” he added.

  Because he didn’t want to take a chance on losing her cooperation?

  Or because he was just a little bit bothered by how cleanly Heidi’s new motion fit with the criminal charges filed against her ex-husband. If he were a confessed and convicted abuser, Josh’s opinion would have admittedly held more weight than hers when they appeared before a judge. For all he knew Heidi’s family law attorney had come up with the whole idea to file the custody motion just to help her win her case against Josh.

  “So...you’ll stop by tonight? We can talk then?”

  He’d met with witnesses at later hours. In bars and parking lots. Jails and homes.

  He hadn’t planned to work that night. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

  He waited for a bit of gushing. For her relief. Knew her emotion was going to wash right over him.

  She calmly thanked him and hung up.

  Chapter 9

  She’d changed clothes. Jasmine had gone back and forth on that one. Did she answer the door in a floral shirtdress with leggings? Or in jeans and a loose blouse with tennis shoes on her feet? She almost never wore those. Found them...bulky and uncomfortable. And somewhat unattractive, too, as far as shoes went.

  Ditto for the oversize blue-and-white-striped button-shirt that covered the pretty floral stitching on the pockets of her jeans. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she hoped her message was clear. She wasn’t trying to pretty up anything about her. Or impress him.

  She most definitely wasn’t coming on to him. Lord knew the last thing she wanted to do, inviting him over after dark, was to encourage him to think of her in a personal way. Yes, she’d had thoughts about them maybe becoming friends. But she went back and forth on that, too. Given her track record, did she trust herself to have a friend like Greg Johnson in her life?

  And did she really want to find out that he was like all the rest of the people who attracted her? Bad news underneath?

  Because if she was as into him as her reaction to him would have her believe, she could bet there was some not-good stuff beneath his surface. Maybe, during his interrogation, she could learn a little bit about him, too. Like, was he married even though he wore no ring?

  Did he have a girlfriend? Live with someone? Have any children?

  He knocked on the door just then, wearing jeans, too. And a blue-and-white shirt that fit him to perfection. The buttons didn’t quite pull at his chest, but there wasn’t any extra room there, either. Not like her baggy cotton. His tennis shoes, black to her white, looked newer than hers.

  When she’d been in high school, the kids with new-looking tennis shoes had been considered nerds. The ludicrousness of the thought hit her almost as quickly as the thought itself, but it calmed her shaking nerves, too.

  Heidi had had a supervised visit with Bella the day before. The caseworker had come to Jasmine’s to pick up the toddler and had returned her right on schedule. Bella had been clingy the rest of the evening. That’s what she had to keep in mind. Her niece. And getting this mess fixed, showing Heidi for who she was, so that Bella could have a secure, happy home environment.

  “We can talk in here,” she said, leading Greg into the great room that served as both living and family room. Her light brown leather sectional, matching chairs and entertainment center separated most of the room from the back quarter that held a couple of antique chairs, a bookcase and the piano that she’d learned on, growing up.

  She didn’t offer him anything to drink, but he carried a bottle of water with him. She took one of the chairs. He sat on the love seat portion of the sectional, putting his plastic water bottle on a coaster on the table in front of him.

  The man had manners. Kudos to those who’d raised him. Of course, he could have learned them on his own—overcoming a horrendous childhood to make it good in the world...

  “Did you grow up around here?” The question popped out.

  He shook his head. “I went to high school in Colorado and Arizona, two years each,” he told her. “Grade school and junior high were Utah, Colorado, Oregon and then Washington State—Seattle.”

  She leaned on the arm of her chair, in his direction. “Seriously?” she asked, unable to prevent her interest. As a teacher, she knew how rough it could be on kids to move around during the critical years of bonding and first friendships. “Was your father in the military?”

  “My parents met in college,” he said, somewhat laconically. “Mom’s into employee management and getting the best out of the people who work for you. My father’s the numbers guy. They formed a business even before they formed a marriage and have made an impressive success out of both.”

  He wasn’t a shy man. Or overly modest. His honesty impressed her. “What’s their business?” And did it have that many franchises, that they’d needed to move so much?

  “The Rescuers,” he said, shaking his head. “There are a lot of companies out there that wait for a company to show signs of struggle and then swoop in and acquire them.”

  “Acquisitions,” she said, nodding. “That’s what my father does. He took over from his father. So...you’re telling me our parents are in the same business?”

  That was... Wow. Weird. And kind of... So did his father have a razor-sharp temperament, too? Did Greg? Was that the warning sign she needed so she didn’t let herself fall for him?

  “No. My folks are the antidote,” he said. “Or at least they try to be. They go into struggling companies on a two-year contract in order to turn them around.”

  Which explained why he’d moved around so much. And...completely the opposite from Oscar Taylor, the taker. Not that that gave her any leeway to fall for Greg Johnson.

  “Must have been hard for you, though, moving around so much. Do you have siblings?” She didn’t know what she’d do without Josh. And figured her growing up, while hard, still had some great memories attached, largely because of her brother.

  “No siblings,” he told her, lifting an ankle across his knee as he sat back, an elbow on the couch arm. He seemed relaxed.

  She liked him there.

  “My mom couldn’t have kids,” he told her. “She’d been in a car accident when she was a teenager, and it left her infertile.”

  So he was adopted. Why he was putting that out there she didn’t know, but she was glad he had. Maybe he was just being kind, giving a bit of himself since he was prying so completely into her private life.

  Maybe he just found her easy to talk to. People had told her they found her so, many times. Her friend Wynne said that she’d never met anyone she could talk to like she could talk to Jasmine.

  “Were you adopted as a baby?” She wanted to know.

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Wasn’t looking around, seeking out her computer or nosing into closets and drawers. Could be he got more out of a person by the questions they asked. Or just by watching them...

  Could be she watched too many psychological cop shows.

  “Do you know anything about your biological parents? Have you ever sought them out? If you don’t mind my asking?” Being a cop, it might be easier for him to find out things that others wouldn’t be able to access. And she knew how it could mess with a guy, wondering about what genes he’d inherited on his Y chromosome. Or maybe that was just when your adoptive dad was too destructive to show you how to be a man.

  “I was abandoned in an office building bathroom with the umbilical cord still attached,” he said, watching her steadily now, making her more certain that she was under some kind of trial.

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. She could feel them both, but not soon enough to stop them. “Are you serious?” she asked, and then quickly, so he didn’t think she was seriously doubting him... “Were there security cameras? Did they see who left you there?”

  “No. And while the police spent months searching out every clue, they never found whoever took me there. Or found out who gave birth to me.”

  “Maybe she had you there, in the bathroom.”

  “That was one theory. The scene was clean, though, so doubtful. All of the women who worked in the building and were known to be pregnant checked out.”

  “Wow. Who found you?”

  “My mother. She and Dad had just started work for a smallish organic food company with offices on the third floor of the building.”

  She hardly knew the man. He’d been in her life less than a week. And at his candor, feeling a surge of compassion for that abandoned baby boy, Jasmine had maybe just fallen a tiny smidgeon in love with him.

  * * *

  Interrogation 101. Find a way to identify with the subject. Josh Taylor had been adopted by Jasmine’s father after he and Mary got married. A search of records between his phone call with Jasmine that afternoon and the evening’s visit had told him that much.

  He was adopted, too.

  She had sympathy for her brother. It would put her at ease to know that he understood a basic concept that had helped form Josh Taylor the man.

  Greg wanted to believe that was why he’d started burping out his private affairs to a woman who was not only a stranger, destined to remain so, but one he didn’t even fully trust.

  Except he did trust her not to be harmful to other human beings. He’d done what research he could on the internet. Found a blog written by a former resident at The Lemonade Stand and comments on the post. He’d read all of the records that William had in Josh’s file—some provided by Josh’s attorney earlier that day in preparation for Thursday’s hearing. He’d thought about his conversations with Lila McDaniels Mantle. Brief though they were, given the director’s reputation, they were also very telling. Jasmine wouldn’t be working at the Stand if Lila had a single doubt about the safety of children around her.

  And he’d considered Heidi’s testimony, too. The abused woman had admitted that she had no evidence whatsoever that Jasmine had ever hurt anyone—except Josh all those years ago.

  “Heidi tells me that Josh isn’t your father’s biological child,” he said, maybe not with the most finesse. His successful morning, his climb, the hot shower afterward had left him a bit too relaxed.

  “That’s right,” she said, with little more than a raised eyebrow.

  “You didn’t think to mention that to me the other night?” Out on her deck. She’d told him she’d tell him the complete truth.

  “It honestly didn’t even cross my mind,” she said. And then frowned, looking at him. “But it should have. I’m asking for your help, and him not being biologically related to an abuser might help. I just... Wow, I’m sorry. I don’t think of Josh in terms of our father. Because I know he’s not my dad’s child.”

  “Environmentally, he is.”

  She tilted her head, as though to acknowledge the statement.

  He thought of her question about finding his biological parents. “Has Josh ever looked for his father?”

  “He didn’t have to look. Mom was only ever with one other man. The identity of Josh’s father was never a secret between her and my dad. They told Josh together when he reached puberty.”

  Not at all like his own sorry tale, biologically speaking. Feeling a bit soft for having shared his own story, in light of Josh having been adopted, he asked, “Did he take it hard?”

  “Are you kidding? He ran into my room all excited because the ass wasn’t his real dad. And then he stopped dead still in the middle of the room, looking sick, because he knew that Oscar was still my real dad.”

  Yes. About that...

  Heidi and her patterns. And her testimony that Jasmine had told her about having fears about herself. Fears that she might have the capacity for her father’s vile anger deep inside her.