Protecting Her Son. Joan Kilby

Katie called through the open front door. She’d followed him from his rental unit in her car.

      “In the kitchen.” Riley blinked rapidly. Jeez, any minute now he’d break down and cry like a girl.

      Katie carried in a box of dishes. To help him move she’d worn old jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her dark hair swinging in a ponytail.

      “Dad and Sandra just pulled up. The moving truck isn’t far behind—” She set the box on the floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

      “Nothing.” But he and his little sister were close. She always knew what he was thinking.

      Katie’s gaze swept over the kitchen. Her arm stole around his waist. Softly she said, “It almost feels as if Mum’s still here.”

      Riley cleared his throat. “This room is too poky. I think I’ll knock this wall down between the kitchen and dining room.” He swept a hand across as if waving a magic wand. “New appliances, new flooring, the works. What do you think?”

      “It’s your place now.” Katie gave him a one-armed hug. “Do what you want.”

      “Are you sure? By rights, you should get half the house.”

      “I’m happy with my little cottage. I—I couldn’t live here.”

      The catch in her voice wasn’t only about their mother. Katie had gotten breast cancer in her early twenties and come home to live while undergoing treatment—and to nurse her broken heart after John had abandoned her.

      “But I’m glad you’re here,” Katie said. “I think Mum would have liked knowing one of us, at least, was still living in the family home. She was so much a part of this place, especially the kitchen.”

      “Yeah. Moving in is a bit more emotional than I expected.” Riley sucked in a breath. “Let’s get the rest of the load.” He led the way back through the dining room. “How was the first day of school?”

      “The children are so gorgeous. I know, I say that every year but it’s true. Grade one is such a cute age.”

      “My new partner has a kid in your class. Small world, huh? Her name is Paula Drummond.”

      “Drummond…” Katie frowned, thinking. “I haven’t got all the names memorized yet. Boy or girl?”

      “Boy.”

      “Ah, Jamie. He’s sweet.”

      Riley hauled a box out of the trunk of his car and placed it in Katie’s arms then picked up his army boot locker.

      “I’m planning our annual bike safety lesson,” Katie said as they went inside. “Do you know who at the station will be doing it this year?”

      “Not a clue.”

      “Well, since your partner’s son is in my class and you’re my brother, what if you two did it? What do you think?”

      Riley didn’t particularly want to spend any more time than necessary with uptight Paula and since events like the bike safety lesson were usually conducted on their own time, this was a particularly unwelcome idea. But he didn’t like letting his little sister down. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

      Katie beamed at him. From this angle with her oval face framed by long black hair, and her green eyes, she reminded him of someone… . A stab of pain made him wince. He pressed his fingers to his temple.

      “Are you all right?” Katie asked, pausing in the foyer. “You went pale all of a sudden.”

      “A bit of a headache. I’m fine.” Outside, a car door shut. “I think the others have arrived.”

      His dad’s white Ford sedan was parked at the curb. Then a truck rumbled to a halt, its air brakes hissing. Barry Henning’s voice carried as he issued instructions to the driver backing up the narrow curving driveway.

      “How did you accumulate enough stuff to fill a moving van in less than a year?” Katie said.

      Riley leaned against the veranda post. “Imagine a man living out of a footlocker for ten years. Then imagine him moving into his own home, even if it’s just a two-bedroom rental unit. A trip to the home furniture store is like taking a kid to a candy shop.”

      “Hey, you two.” Sandra, their stepmother, came across the lawn, avoiding the truck. Her gray-blonde hair was softly waving, her smile big and bright. She presented Riley a casserole dish. “Your mother’s famous chicken cacciatore. You won’t have time to cook today.”

      “Thanks.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “You shouldn’t have.”

      He exchanged a furtive grimace with Katie. Since she married their father Sandra had taken up cooking out of their mother’s cookbooks. It was nice of her, but in her hands the recipes didn’t always turn out—to put it mildly.

      “Save that for another time,” Barry ordered, striding up onto the porch. His gray hair and moustache were regulation army length, his carriage erect. “We’ll order pizza after we get him moved in.”

      “Yes, sir, Major Dad.” Katie saluted. She gave Sandra a wink.

      “We’ve eaten out twice already this week.” Sandra was briefly crestfallen. Then she put on a brilliant smile. “Never mind, I’ll tuck this in the fridge.” She carried the casserole into the house.

      One of the moving men trundled the first dolly-load—a walnut dresser—to the steps. “Where do you want this?”

      “Right this way.” Riley led them into his house, rubbing his aching temple. What was up with the headache? He rarely got them and then only when he occasionally drank too much. There weren’t even any painkillers in his belongings. But the pain was nothing compared to what he’d experienced in Afghanistan. He would soldier on.

      * * *

      “MORNING, PATTY,” Paula called out as she passed Dispatch on Monday morning. The young Irish woman waved.

      After the phone calls last week, Nick had gone quiet. When Paula had arrived home that night with Jamie, her house had been exactly as she’d left it, every door and window locked and untampered with. It should have reassured her. Instead, all weekend she’d been jumpy, obsessively checking over her shoulder, looking for Nick’s face in the crowd, keeping Jamie in sight as they wandered through the monthly outdoor market in the village.

      She wasn’t naive enough to think Nick had gone away. He seemed to be biding his time, trying to make her nervous. What did he want from her? Did he hate her for betraying him? Did he want revenge?

      Or did he want Jamie?

      This morning she’d called Sally, Jamie’s afterschool caregiver, and asked her to be at the school at 3:00 p.m. on the dot. Then Sally’s toddler started crying and the other woman had to go. This afternoon, when Paula picked up Jamie, she needed to have a proper talk with Sally.

      She found a desk and a spare computer and got caught up on paperwork, working steadily for an hour before her shift started. She and Riley were supposed to be equal partners but from things the guys said she’d deduced he was the boss’s best bud. And even though she was senior in years on the force, her past tainted her. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or her insecurities showing but she had the uncomfortable feeling that Riley was watching her every move, waiting for her to slip up. Well, she would show him. She would show everyone. She would work twice as hard as any one of them.

      John came through the door heading for his office. He carried an athletic bag with a beach towel stuffed inside and his hair was damp. His early morning ocean swims were legend around the station.

      “Excuse me, boss. Can I have a quick word?”

      “Sure.” He glanced at her computer and at the clock. “You know we don’t have the budget for overtime, don’t you?”

      “I know.” She saved her