A Mother's Secret. Pat Warren

crowd had thinned, leaving only one older couple just finishing and two young men sipping beer and munching on nachos. The mustached waiter brought them chips and salsa along with two big glasses of water, then left them to study the plastic-coated menus.

      “What would you like?” Kincaid asked, inhaling the delicious spicy aromas.

      “I’m not hungry,” Sara answered as she dug in her purse for a couple of aspirin. Her headache had gotten worse.

      Kincaid waited until she’d swallowed the pills, then placed a hand over both of hers. He didn’t speak until she looked up and met his eyes. “Sara, you have to eat. You didn’t even taste the doughnut this morning. If you don’t keep up your strength, you won’t be any help to Mike.”

      That got her attention. She desperately wanted to go with Kincaid on his search for Mike, if in fact he’d decided to take the case. If the only way to do that was to eat, she’d eat. “Okay, you order for me.”

      He did, two frosted beers and two lunch specials, which, when they arrived steaming hot, Sara thought could easily feed four people. Waiting for a forkful of chili relleno to cool, she watched Kincaid shovel in his food as if it were room temperature. “You must have an asbestos-lined mouth,” she commented.

      “Told you I was starved.” He took a swallow of the chilled beer and saw that she was finally eating. Thinking aloud, he said, “There’s so much gambling in Arizona now—racetracks, the Indian casinos, the state lottery. Too much temptation for some, I guess.”

      The small burrito was delicious, Sara decided, her appetite returning somewhat. “I suppose so, but I had no idea Lenny was so into it. I’ve never heard him or Meg mention going to the track or spending an evening at a casino. Meg’s too cautious to gamble. He must be doing it on his own. Or with the blond woman who left her hairbrush behind.”

      So she’d noticed that, too. “You have the makings of a fine detective,” he told her as he scooped a spoonful of refried beans.

      “Mmm, I’m a regular sleuth.”

      “So what do we know so far?” Kincaid began.

      Thoughtfully she toyed with her Spanish rice. “Well, we know my brother-in-law has a seedy apartment where he takes a blond woman. Or perhaps several women. I know that Meg hasn’t a clue that he’s unfaithful, or she’d have thrown him out by now. We know he’s suspected of stealing and selling stuff to get money, probably to gamble. I imagine he wants more money than Meg is willing to give him. I don’t know what that apartment costs, but I’m sure he isn’t taking the money from his paycheck.”

      Finished with his lunch, Kincaid sat back, thoughtfully nursing his beer.

      “He’s taking a big risk with that apartment,” Sara continued. “Why not just rent a motel room occasionally?”

      Kincaid noticed that she was eating steadily, though he doubted she was aware she’d nearly cleaned her plate. “Perhaps his allowance doesn’t cover the cost of motels.” Something was nagging at him, and he wondered if Sara had noticed it, as well. “What did you think of that nervous little manager?”

      Sara tasted her beer, not her favorite drink, but it was refreshingly cold. “I wondered why he asked so many questions. And what did he mean that the complex used to have druggies and the like before, but not since Lenny came on the scene?”

      He smiled, pleased that she’d caught that, too. “Kind of makes me wonder if Lenny had an arrangement with the manager—a free apartment for his protection.”

      Sara’s eyes widened. “That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

      “Last time I checked.” Kincaid drained his glass. “We could go back there, and I’m sure I could get the manager to open up, but if Lenny’s still around this area, I don’t want him to know we’re checking on him.”

      Surprised she’d eaten so much, Sara laid down her fork at last and drank some water. “So what do you suggest we do next?”

      Kincaid shuffled through the camping maps, the fishing area and Disneyland brochure. “We know he’s taken Mike fishing before, so do you think he did again?”

      “Maybe. I’d also promised I’d take Mike to Disneyland before summer’s end, so I doubt they went there. Mike loves the outdoors, camping, hiking. I just can’t figure why Lenny would take him along if he was doing something shady.”

      “Does Lenny have a cell phone?”

      “Yes, but I’ve already tried that. He’s got it turned off.”

      “That’s odd. Seems like he doesn’t want anyone bothering him.”

      “That’s probably true. Meg does a lot of checking up on him and he hates it.” She gazed at the papers spread out on the table. “If I had to choose, I’d say Lenny’s taken Mike camping somewhere. Last fall, I took him up this fairly rugged trail on a mountain just north of Flagstaff. There’s an old cabin up near the top by a clearing, probably built by a prospector years ago. Copper mining used to be big back then, but all the mines have been abandoned since. Anyhow, Lenny got so angry when I told him I didn’t want him along that he’s been cool toward me ever since. Maybe he’s taken Mike up himself because he knows I wouldn’t like it.”

      “Why wouldn’t you like Lenny and Mike going hiking together? After all, he’s the boy’s father.”

      She shrugged, her hands twisting her napkin. “He’s an on-again off-again father. He wouldn’t take Mike camping because he wanted to, but rather to make a statement, either to Meg or to me. He’s a show-off and doesn’t know the first thing about caring for Mike around dangerous places where the boy might get hurt. He fell once when he was out with Lenny, only about twenty feet I was told, and he escaped with just scratches. But it happened because Lenny urged him to get close to the edge to take a photograph.”

      “Forgive me, but since you weren’t along, how do you know that? Sometimes kids get daring on their own.” Mike was a boy, after all, Kincaid thought, and boys took chances, rarely mindful of danger. She sounded overly protective. Maybe Lenny took Mike because Sara had been interfering too much.

      Slowly she ripped the napkin in half, then in fourths. “You’re right, I wasn’t there. But Mike told me later when I questioned him. And he’s very honest.”

      Honest to a degree, but likely unwilling to admit to his very loving aunt that he’d gotten careless. He watched as she continued to shred the napkin, a nervous habit, he decided. To stop her agitation, he took the napkin remnants from her and placed both his hands over hers to still her, then waited for her to look up.

      His hands were large and powerful, Sara thought, yet his touch was tender. She felt warmth spread from where their hands were joined, bringing an unwelcome awareness. Finally she met his eyes, noticing that they were more pewter than green in the restaurant lighting. She felt an overwhelming urge to brush back the lock of curly black hair that had fallen onto his forehead, but she managed to suppress it. She realized he was awfully good-looking, not movie-star handsome, but with solid features attractively put together, a face you could trust.

      Or could she? She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, though it seemed longer. Her instincts told her he was honest, and his actions so far indicated that. Still, she knew him mostly by his reputation.

      Dare she trust him?

      Kincaid saw her lips quiver slightly and almost reached up to caress them. He hardly knew her, and though she’d told him a great deal in a short time, he had a feeling she was holding back something important. In his line of work he’d learned to read people, to determine character and personality quickly. Sara Morgan was hiding something, and only by getting closer to her would he discover what. Of course, he could…wait! He had to be losing his mind to even consider getting involved with her. Hadn’t he learned his lesson the hard way?

      With no small effort, Kincaid withdrew his hands but held her gaze. “I have to say it again, Sara, that despite everything