Truth Or Lies. Kylie Brant

sounds fine, baby doll.” Weariness sounded in the woman’s voice, showed on her face. She managed a wan smile for Shae. “Thanks for taking her to the zoo. I know she can be a handful.”

      “No problem. Did you get any sleep while we were gone?” Hapi Gleason worked two jobs, one of them third shift. TeKayla spent much of the time at home with a sitter when her mother could afford it, and alone when she couldn’t. Shae knew Social Services were aware of the situation, but recent budget cuts had decreased their resources. So far, their involvement hadn’t seemed to change things appreciably.

      The door was already closing. “Had me laundry to do. Din’t have no time for sleep.”

      “Well, let me know if I can—” the door closed in her face “—help.” Staring at the raised panels, she sighed. There was no doubt in her mind that Hapi considered her an interfering do-gooder. But the truth was…

      The truth, she thought, as she made her way to the elevator to go up to her apartment, was that fifteen years ago she’d have thought the same thing about anyone who tried to lend her assistance. She’d have viewed it with doubt and suspicion and sooner have spit on it than accept help, however well intended. At any rate, it was totally out of character for her to get involved like this. Her patients were her duty, her neighbors were not. Other than the Gleasons and the super, she had only a nodding acquaintance with the other people in her building. That had always been the way she liked it. Her hours didn’t give her a lot of free time, and the time off she did have would be better spent on her own errands and chores.

      When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, she went to her door and inserted the key. From the first there had been something about TeKayla’s gap-toothed grin and puppy-dog friendliness that had charmed her. The child spent way too much time unsupervised on the stoop out front, even when her mother was home. Although this was a decent enough neighborhood, it was old and close enough to the projects to warrant exercising some caution.

      She pushed open the door, dropped her keys and the mail she’d collected from her mailbox downstairs on the table beside it. Crossing to the closet, she hung up her coat and purse. There was no way she would have been able to afford this much space in a more exclusive neighborhood. The entire top floor had been converted to a loft apartment, with screens and throw rugs delineating the space. Upstairs, beneath a huge skylight, was a bedroom with an attached bath. It was simple, comfortable and private. It fit her needs precisely.

      Walking to the kitchen tucked into one corner, she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she tipped it to her lips, drank.

      “Quite a place you got here, Shae girl.”

      The bottle dropped from nerveless fingers as she swung around, her gaze sweeping the area for a weapon. She had her hand on the knife board before she recognized the voice. It was telling that even then, especially then, she had to force herself to release her grip on the weapon.

      “What are you doing here, Da?” Her tone was flat, no welcome in it. She watched the tall handsome, man stroll down the spiral staircase from the loft, before posing theatrically at its base, arms spread.

      “Shae, my girl, is that any way to greet your old man? Come over and give me a proper welcome.”

      A proper welcome would be something between a knife in his heart and a boot out the door. She settled for uncompromising indifference. “Most people use the doorbell. Mind telling me how you got in here?”

      One well-manicured index finger to his lips, Ryan O’Riley said, “Now, now. You know I never divulge my methods.”

      “You don’t have to. You either broke in or bribed someone.” She bent down, picked up the bottle she’d dropped and grabbed a towel to wipe up the water that had spilled. “Knowing your basic lack of ambition, I imagine bribery was your means of choice.”

      “You’ve grown hard, girl.” An expression of sadness settled on Ryan’s face as he heaved a sigh. “I blame myself for that.”

      Rising again, she tossed the wet towel in the sink. “There’s plenty to blame yourself for, Da. By all means, don’t stop there.”

      If age had caught up with Ryan McCabe O’Riley, it hadn’t dared to show itself. His six-foot frame was still straight, his red hair as bright as her own. His unlined face looked a good ten years younger than its fifty years. It was amazing, Shae thought bitterly, what living without care or conscience could do for a person.

      “I wouldn’t say no to one of those bottled waters if you were to offer,” he hinted broadly, leaning against the counter.

      It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. But spitefulness wouldn’t solve anything, and it certainly wouldn’t get rid of him. When he wanted something, her father could be amazingly thick-skinned. And he definitely wanted something, or he never would have shown up here.

      She got him a water, slid it over to him. “I’m not giving you any money.”

      The stage had missed a born actor in Ryan O’Riley. The injured expression on his face was worthy of a Tony. “Can’t I just stop by and catch up with my only daughter? My eldest and the dearest to her father’s heart?”

      Giving up, Shae propped a hip against the wall, watching him. There would be no rushing him. He’d take his own time getting to the point, and then use charm, guilt and familial loyalty to try to get his way. The combination had never worked on her, but he’d always refused to acknowledge that.

      “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” Few seeing the beaming paternal look on his handsome face would doubt his sincerity. “My daughter, the doctor. I can’t believe the little girl I raised is saving lives every day. The emergency room at Charity, right?”

      She ignored his question, preferring to focus on his statement. “It would certainly be a stretch to claim you had any part in raising me. If we were to add up all the time you actually spent with your family, we’d probably come up with…what? Three years, total?”

      His brows lowered. “Now, Shae, don’t go blaming me for things out of my control. I did what I had to do to put food on my family’s table, to provide for your mother, you and your brother. I know you always felt I could have done more, but—”

      “You mean like hold a steady job? Bring a paycheck home? Be a father, instead of an occasional house guest?” With effort she kept her tone expressionless. Emotion was an ineffective weapon against him. He’d only wield it against her. “Any of those would have been a start. But you chose to take the easy route, running one scam after another in search of a quick buck.”

      “Those were legitimate entrepreneurial enterprises,” he corrected her. “Each and every one of them.”

      “Of course. And the police take such a narrow view of entrepreneurs, don’t they?”

      “Apparently.” Nodding, he took another swig. Sarcasm was wasted on him. It was only one of his annoying qualities. “Because I understand poor Liam got caught up in their net.”

      Rage, only recently tucked away, bubbled through her veins. “Poor Liam took a page out of his da’s book and looked for the easy life. He was caught red-handed with an apartment full of electronics. Where do you suppose he learned his skill breaking and entering?”

      “I won’t be having you take that tone with me, Shae Kathleen O’Riley.” Ryan’s voice was stern. “I taught the boy better than that, just like I taught you.”

      As quickly as the fury had boiled over, it vanished, leaving desolation in its wake. “You should have left him with me after Mam died. We were doing fine on our own. He was in a good school and making decent grades. Living with you ruined him.”

      “Well, now, I know you’ve never forgiven me for taking him and leaving you alone, girl.” With a neat twist, he turned the words back on her, distorting the truth. “But what kind of father would I have been to leave my son to be raised by his sister, and you only twenty yourself?”

      The