Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
FORD
“Mr. Donoghue, I appreciate you coming by with Peyton.” Police Chief Bill Carson was all easy smiles as he welcomed us to the police station. Given how he’d harassed Rios and Sawyer in our youth, I didn’t trust the casual attitude one bit. But when the chief of police asked you to bring your kid by the station, you did it.
“I assure you, this is just a formality.”
Beside me, Peyton practically vibrated with jackrabbit energy, clearly anxious about being here. Her case worker hadn’t mentioned any kind of delinquent behavior when we’d spoken. Maybe this anxiety was just over the possibility that something might threaten her new place here. I’d just have to do my best to reassure her. Nothing and nobody was going to take her away from me.
“Is this to wrap up some paperwork around the missing persons report that was filed in Oregon?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully neutral despite the tension coiling in my gut.
“Not exactly. Y’all want anything to drink? A Coke or something?” Carson’s casual tone only heightened my suspicion that everything was not as it seemed.
I glanced at Peyton, watching as she twisted the hem of her hoodie. Her face had gone a shade paler since we’d walked in.
“No. Sir,” she added.
“Alright then. Come on back.”
We followed Carson down a short hallway and into a small conference room that was dominated by a table and six chairs. Two other people were already inside. I pegged the woman as late forties, with long dark hair pulled back into a tail, sharp gray eyes, and a suit wrinkled like she’d been in the car for hours. Her companion, a thirty-something black man with wire-rimmed glasses and an equally wrinkled suit, shot a smile that was probably supposed to put us at ease. Instead, every protective instinct I had roared to life.
I edged in front of Peyton. “Who are you?”
Carson shut the door behind us with a decisive click that echoed in the small space, further amping my sense of having been trapped. “Special Agents Olivia Burns and Cedric Langston, both of the FBI.”
“Portland office,” Agent Burns clarified, her gray eyes sharp and assessing as they moved between me and my daughter.
What the actual fuck did the FBI want with my kid? My heart rate kicked up a notch, and my mind raced through possibilities, none of them good.
Peyton and I were brand new to each other. While Mimi and Mom had initiated hugs with her, I had no idea how she felt about men, so I’d been letting her set the pace on physical contact. But now I reached out, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into my side. She was trembling, barely perceptible, but there. No way did I want her feeling alone in whatever this was. When she didn’t pull away, I counted it as a win, even as dread settled like lead in my gut.
“Why are we here?”
“We just have some questions,” Langston said.
I didn’t trust that casual tone in the least. “Do we need an attorney?”
Burns angled her head. “Do you?”
Oh, hell no. My mom had taught me better than that. “I want someone to tell me right now exactly what interest you have in my minor child.”
Rather than answer, Burns sat. “Mr. Donoghue, did you have any contact with Casey Walsh, the child’s mother?”
What the fuck? “Not since we were eighteen. No.”
“You weren’t a part of your daughter’s life?”
It was a fair and reasonable question, but it put my back up, nonetheless. It was probably meant to throw me off my game. “I wasn’t aware I had a daughter until two weeks ago. But that sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ll give you the chance to railroad her.” My voice came out harder than intended, but I wasn’t about to apologize. Not when it came to protecting Peyton.
Something sparked in the woman’s eyes. Annoyance? Approval? Whatever it was, Burns kept it carefully contained behind that professional mask of hers.
Langston spread his hands. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s all sit down.” His tone was conciliatory, but there was a tension in the set of his shoulders that made me wary. “Nobody’s in any kind of trouble here.”
I doubted that. Federal agents would hardly trek all the way to Hatterwick if something wasn’t wrong. But I nudged Peyton toward a chair and took the one beside her, positioning myself slightly forward, a shield between her and whatever was coming. The weight of her fear pressed against my shoulder like a physical thing.
Langston offered a sympathetic smile to Peyton. “You’ve had a lot of changes the past few months. I’m sorry about your mother. Losing her had to be hard.”
The feds were aware of Casey’s death? That couldn’t be good. Had they been watching her for some reason? My stomach clenched as possibilities, each worse than the last, flashed through my mind.
Peyton shot a glance at me, then back at him before muttering, “Yeah.” Her fingers twisted in her lap, worrying at a loose thread on her jeans. The defensive hunch of her shoulders made her look even younger than thirteen.
“Did your mom ever talk about her work?”
Peyton jerked her shoulders. “Sometimes. Mostly complaining about the stupid people who didn’t do their paperwork right and made more work for her.”
Langston flashed a rueful grin. “We all hate those coworkers.” He was doing a good job of making this sound more like a casual conversation than the interrogation it was obviously meant to be.
Burns leaned forward. “Did she ever bring work home?” The sharp edge to his question cut through Langston’s carefully crafted atmosphere.
“No. She said work was for work hours and home was for family time.” Peyton’s chin came up slightly, a touch of pride in her voice.
“Admirable.” Langston nodded. “Hard to maintain sometimes, though. Did she ever get calls about work after hours?” He kept his tone light, but I could see the intensity in his eyes as he waited for her answer.
“I don’t know.” There was an edge to Peyton’s voice that was part sarcasm, part belligerence, and all teenager. I wasn’t about to call her on it under the circumstances. These two were fishing for something, and she knew it. The way she’d drawn into herself, shoulders hunched, told me she was getting more uncomfortable by the minute.
“Did you ever meet anybody from her work?” Burns pressed. “Any office buddies? Her boss? Maybe at a company picnic or holiday party?”
Were they investigating Casey herself or whoever Casey had worked for? The intensity of their questions made my internal radar ping. This wasn’t just about a runaway kid anymore.
“What is this about?” I shifted slightly closer to Peyton. “Why would a thirteen-year-old kid be privy to any knowledge about her mother’s work?” And what information were they so desperate to find that they’d come all the way out here to get it? The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I waited for their answer.
“Kids soak up all kinds of things adults aren’t aware of,” Langston said smoothly, though his eyes had hardened at my interruption. “Did you have any contact with anybody from her work, Peyton? Even just in passing?”
“No.”
“So you haven’t seen anybody since she died?” The older agent’s tone was deceptively casual. “Maybe at the funeral?”
Peyton frowned, her shoulders hunching inward. “Mom was cremated. And anyway, how would I know? I wasn’t involved in any of that.”
I really didn’t like the direction this was going. Something about their questions and the way they kept circling back made my skin crawl.
Langston leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, his posture deliberately non-threatening even as his eyes remained sharp and focused. “Did you ever see anybody harassing your mom? Being rude to her or threatening her in any way? Even something that might have seemed small at the time?”
But Peyton was apparently done answering questions. Her face had gone pale, and her hands trembled slightly where they rested on the table. “Was somebody after my mom?”
Shit. She’d said Casey had died of an aneurism, but what if that hadn’t been the truth? Or what if it had been incited rather than natural? There were probably ways to do that.
“We’re not aware of anybody.”
Which wasn’t exactly a no.
My kid stared at them with an impressive degree of teenage disdain that probably should have terrified me for the years to come. “So you just expect me to believe that you followed me all the way across the country for no reason? Seriously, how stupid do you think I am?”
Both agents glanced at me, probably waiting to see if I was going to discipline her for rudeness, but hell, I was right there with her. The kid had a point, and I wasn’t about to shut her down for calling out what we were both thinking.
“Neither of us is as stupid as you seem to believe. You’re being very careful not to say what any of this is actually about. So let’s get down to brass tacks. Is my daughter in some kind of danger?” I wasn’t going to accept any more evasive non-answers.
After the barest of hesitations, Burns leaned back in her chair. “We have no reason to believe that she is.”
That reply didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, but I pressed on. “And she’s not in any sort of trouble?”
“No.” Another careful, measured response that revealed absolutely nothing.
“Then unless you’re going to develop sudden transparency, I think we’re done here. If you have any further questions, you can send them through our attorney.” I pushed back from the table, the legs of my chair scraping against the floor with finality. “Let’s go, Peyton.”
She scrambled up beside me, and I kept my body between her and the agents as we headed for the door. Carson didn’t try to stop us.
My blood boiled as we walked through the station. These people had no right coming here and interrogating my kid without proper representation. She’d been through enough losing her mom without dealing with some bullshit federal circus.
The afternoon sun hit my face as we stepped outside, making me squint against its harsh glare. I kept my hand protectively on Peyton’s shoulder until we reached my car. Only then did I turn to her. “You okay?”
Peyton nodded, wrapping her arms around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. “Yeah.”
“You have any idea what all that shit was about?” I studied her face, looking for any hint of recognition or fear that might tell me more than her words.
“No.” She wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, but I didn’t think it was because she was hiding anything. More like she was still processing the interrogation herself.
“Okay.”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. “That’s it?”
I leaned against the driver’s side door, trying to project calm and stability even though my insides were still churning. “That’s it. Look, I know we’re new to each other, but you’re mine, and that means I’m always on your side. Got it?” My voice came out gruff with emotion I hadn’t expected to feel quite so soon.
Her lower lip trembled for a long moment that had me wanting to pull her in for a crushing bear hug before she got it under control. The silence stretched out between us as she studied my face, like she was searching for the truth of my words. Finally, she whispered, “Got it. Thanks.”
“C’mon. We’ll go grab some ice cream to take the sting out of the algebra homework you still have to do.”
She tugged open her door. “I didn’t say I had algebra homework.”
“You didn’t have to. You have Mrs. Winslow, who I also had for Algebra I. She always assigns homework.”
Peyton’s eyes widened—in surprise or horror, I wasn’t sure. “You had my algebra teacher?”
“Small town, kid. Small town. C’mon.”