Colton's Secret Investigation. Justine Davis

never thought to talk to him the way you did.”

      “I gathered. Talk to him, Stefan, not at him. And more important, listen to what he says. He needs to know he’s got your full attention, and not only when you’re correcting him. He needs to believe he matters to you.”

      “Of course he matters.” He ran a hand over his head. And let out a long, weary breath. “I remember when he was born. I was going to be the greatest dad ever. I’d had my own father for an example, you know?”

      She smiled at him. “Siblings?” she asked.

      “Three.” His mouth quirked. “All sisters, after me.”

      “Oh, lucky them,” she teased, but also meaning it. “A strapping big brother to look out for them.”

      He gave her an odd look. “That’s exactly what my dad said when I hit about twelve. That it was my job, too, to watch out for them.”

      “You’re close, you and your dad?”

      He looked sad again. “We were. But… I couldn’t…” Another long breath. “My folks have been married for thirty-five years. And they’re still crazy about each other. They live in Florida now. My dad still treats my mom like a queen, and she thinks he hung the moon. But I couldn’t even keep that going for five years, let alone thirty-five.”

      The moment he finished, she could tell he regretted saying all that. Essentially admitting that he felt like a failure for the destruction of his marriage. In the weeks they’d worked together, he’d rarely spoken of anything personal, so this was a switch. She wondered if he shared those feelings with anyone. And if, as she guessed, he didn’t, what it must feel like to keep all that bottled up inside.

       Asks the woman who has plenty of secrets of her own to keep?

      “What about Sam? Does he have any contact with them?”

      “Not much.” He grimaced. “My ex saw to that.”

      “Well, I guess you can fix that now, can’t you?” He gave her a startled look, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Your mom sounds like the kind of grandmother any boy would love. They’d probably both welcome the chance to help if you sent up a flare.”

      “I…you’re right. Two of my sisters have kids, and they’re really close to them.”

      “So there’s some help.” She frowned. “Who’s the guy who didn’t like him?”

      Stefan’s expression hardened. “His mother’s fiancé.”

      “Oh. Ouch.”

      “And he doesn’t just not like him, he hates him. Gave her an ultimatum. Get rid of him or the wedding’s off.”

      Daria’s eyes widened as she looked at him in utter astonishment. “His mother is marrying someone who would make an outrageous demand like that, and who feels that way about her own child?”

      “Yeah, well, Leah’s always had a…calculating streak.”

      “What is he, rich?” Daria asked.

      “And connected. She’s an event organizer, and he moves in all the right circles.”

      “No wonder your son is angry. He has every right to be.”

      He stared at her for a moment. And then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I never thought of it like that, either. From his point of view.”

      “You probably haven’t had time,” she said, trying to be understanding. “Just trying to organize childcare is a pain, with this case ongoing. And you had to get him into school in a rush, so it’s no wonder you haven’t had a chance to fix up his room or connect with other parents.”

      He blinked. “What? What’s wrong with his room?”

      “It’s fine…for a grown-up. But a kid needs his own stuff, needs things he likes around him, so he feels at home. And,” she added, “a smaller bed.”

      Something flashed in those striking light brown eyes, something that made her wonder what he was thinking. But he only said, “I heard you say that. What difference does it make?”

      “The difference between feeling lost in a place too big for you and safe in your own little shelter.”

      It was a moment before he leaned back in the desk chair he sat in. She’d noticed early on he had the seat set a good three inches higher than a normal seat, to accommodate his height. Her feet probably wouldn’t even touch the floor.

      “How do you know all this? You said you’d never had kids.”

      She felt the old, painful pang. “No. Nor will I ever, biologically. Doctors told me that long ago.” She’d had years to get used to the idea, but that didn’t stop her from feeling sad about it now and then.

      “I’m sorry. You’re obviously great with them,” he said, and there was a note of genuineness in his voice that she appreciated.

      “I have friends with kids,” she answered evenly. “In fact, my best friend has three boys, including twins about Sam’s age.” She purposely chose the name the boy’s mother didn’t like, felt a small pleasure in doing it and didn’t care at the moment if it was petty. “I’ve been around them and babysat them since they were born.”

      “So…tell me what all I need to do. Besides a smaller bed.”

      “You might not like it.”

      “I just want him to like it.”

      She heard the undertone of desperation in his voice. He did truly love his son—he just didn’t know him. And she doubted she or anyone could have done much better under the circumstances.

      “All right,” she said. “You want my opinion? There’s no place for a kid here, not even a yard, and it’s obvious. It looks like the proverbial bachelor pad.”

      His gaze darted away, and he said uncomfortably, “Yeah, I was kind of going for that, after the divorce.”

      “Do you still like it?”

      “Actually… I never really did. I was kind of reeling, and it was just…”

      “A declaration?”

      His mouth quirked. “I guess.”

      “You need furniture a kid can get on, even climb on, without being afraid of hurting it or getting it dirty. He needs books, toys, maybe a stuffed animal to hug at night, although he’d probably deny it. And more playing room—another reason for the smaller bed—and pictures of what he likes.”

      Again he ran a hand over his head. “I don’t even know what he likes.”

      “He likes that video game. Find some stuff about it—it’s everywhere. He likes grilled cheese sandwiches, like most kids, and I’m sure your Szechuan is way too spicy for him. Kids have simple tastes at that age. Peanut butter and jelly isn’t just a cliché. And,” she added with a grin, “he likes dogs better than cats.”

      “Well, we’re in agreement there,” Stefan said with a wry laugh.

      “Think about that, then.”

      “What?”

      “A dog.”

      Stefan blinked. “You mean…get one? I don’t even have time to take care of Samuel, and you want to add a dog into the mix?”

      “I didn’t mean tomorrow,” she said with a laugh. “But maybe take a trip over to Max Hollick’s place. The K-9 Cadets program. He’s got a bunch of puppies there for training. And since they’re all already spoken for, you won’t be confronted with Sam insisting on taking one home. But you can see how he is with them, see if you think it would be worth it.”

      “That…makes sense,” he admitted. “As long as he