About That Man. Sherryl Woods

his treatment of his own kids.

      “What was that?”

      He sighed. “I have two children of my own, Mrs. Jackson. Two boys.”

      “Yes, you mentioned being married.”

      “Divorced, actually. My ex-wife has moved to North Carolina. I see my kids for two weeks in the summer. My ex claims that’s still more than I saw them when we were living under the same roof.”

      She surveyed him with that penetrating look that disconcerted him.

      “Is she right about that?” she asked.

      “Probably. I’m a dedicated cop. It’s never been a nine-to-five job for me.”

      “Which is to your credit. I’m sure it’s not easy. Based on our phone conversation, I’m sure you’ve seen things that the rest of us would prefer to pretend don’t happen. That must take a terrible toll. The work must consume you at times. I know mine does, and it can’t be nearly as difficult as what you face.”

      “That’s still no excuse for neglecting my family,” he said. “I was a lousy husband and not much of a father.”

      “Your words or hers?”

      He smiled at her indignant expression. “Hers, but she pretty much nailed it. I don’t deny it.”

      “Owning up to your mistakes,” she said with a little nod of satisfaction. “I think maybe you have potential, after all, Detective.”

      “I haven’t changed,” he insisted.

      “But you can, with the right incentive.” She pushed the picture of Tommy back in his direction. “At least meet him. Tommy needs to know that he still has family out there. You owe him that. You surely owe your sister that.”

      Walker couldn’t debate that point. He owed Beth for not being there for her, for not trying harder to keep her away from Flanagan, for not finding her years ago.

      “Okay, you win. I’ll meet Tommy, but I’m not making any promises, Mrs. Jackson.”

      “Fair enough.” She reached across and patted his hand. “I’m sure you’ll decide to do the right thing when the time comes.”

      Walker wished he shared her faith. There was one more thing he had to do while he was here, though. He needed to go by the cemetery, see where his sister was buried.

      “Before we go to see Tommy, there’s something I’d like to do,” he began.

      “Stop by the cemetery,” she guessed. “It’s five now. I’ll call Daisy and let her know we’ll be there about six. And if you’d like to take flowers to your sister’s grave, I know where we can get some lovely ones.”

      He hadn’t thought of flowers, but she was right. He needed to make a gesture, leave something behind. Maybe wherever Beth was she would know and would understand that she’d always been in his heart.

      King waved his latest housekeeper out of the dining room. Never could trust the help not to pass along every word that was spoken in his house. Finally satisfied that she wasn’t lurking at the keyhole, he regarded his sons intently and asked, “Okay, now, what are we going to do about your sister?”

      “I should have known you didn’t just invite us over here for a nice dinner,” Tucker grumbled.

      “He never does,” Bobby agreed. “Steak always comes with a price. Daddy inevitably has something up his sleeve.”

      King scowled at the pair of them. “Don’t smart-mouth me. Your sister’s in trouble and I want to know what you’re going to do to fix it.”

      “Last I heard, Daisy was a grown woman who knew her own mind,” Bobby said. “What’s she done that’s so all-fired wrong? She saw a kid who needed someone and she took him in. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught us? That we have an obligation to look out for other people?” He lowered his voice and intoned, “’Spencers do their duty for the less fortunate.’”

      King frowned at the mockery, but decided to ignore it. “Not when she’s going to wind up getting her heart broken,” he countered.

      “I’ve warned her,” Tucker said. “She says she knows what she’s doing.”

      “And Anna-Louise has warned her, too,” Bobby pointed out, then grinned at his brother’s startled expression. “Daddy’s covering all the bases. I gather we’re the second string, which must mean Anna-Louise struck out.”

      The truth was, Anna-Louise hadn’t reported back to him yet, which galled King no end. He’d deal with her later. In the meantime, he needed someone else on the case.

      “Somebody’s got to look out for your sister.” He scowled at Tucker. “I don’t know why you didn’t take that boy out of there when you had the chance.”

      “You wanted me to arrest him?”

      “He was stealing her jewelry, wasn’t he? You told me that yourself.”

      “He tried. He didn’t succeed. I doubt Daisy would have approved of my slapping handcuffs on him and hauling him off to jail. She’d have demanded to be in the cell right next to him, and she’d have had Anna-Louise’s husband down there snapping pictures for next week’s front page.”

      King didn’t doubt it. Richard Walton was a troublemaker, and a Yankee to boot. Actually, he was from Virginia, but he’d worked for one of the Washington papers, which was just as bad as being a Yankee by birth. Tucker was right. Walton would have stirred up a ruckus.

      “Besides,” Bobby said. “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything. I hear Frances found the boy’s uncle. He’s due here today.”

      “They’re over at the Inn as we speak. I saw Frances’s car there when I left the courthouse to come on out here,” Tucker added.

      “This uncle, is he taking Tommy with him?” King asked, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.

      “No word on that,” Bobby admitted.

      “Well, why the heck wouldn’t he?” King demanded. “The boy’s his responsibility. Dammit, Frances isn’t going soft, is she? Do I need to call and tell her how to do her job?”

      “I’d like to see you try,” Tucker muttered.

      “I heard that,” King said, scowling at his oldest son. “The day hasn’t come when I can’t take on the likes of Frances Jackson. One word to the Board of Supervisors and she’d be out on her tush.”

      “I think you’re underestimating the respect people around here have for her,” Tucker said. “And don’t forget, her ancestors are every bit as blue-blooded as ours.”

      King chafed at the reminder. It was a fact Frances liked to throw in his face every year when Founders’ Day rolled around. In fact, the blasted woman prided herself on being a thorn in his side. She had been ever since grade school, when she’d publicly trounced him in a spelling bee. His daddy had never let him forget that he’d been beaten by a girl.

      “I don’t want to talk about Frances,” King grumbled.

      His sons exchanged amused glances. The spelling bee incident was one of their favorites.

      “You know, I could disown both of you,” he declared. “Neither one of you shows me an ounce of respect.”

      “I thought you did that last week,” Bobby said.

      “No, it was last month,” Tucker countered. “I remember distinctly that he said he was going to disinherit us because we told him at Sunday dinner that we didn’t care about the price of cattle.”

      “Well, dammit, what kind of sons don’t give a fig for the business that their daddy is in, and their granddaddy before him?” King demanded, thumping his fist on the table