Page 7 of Operation Protector
Never let it be said your timing doesn’t suck, Kendrick.
“Yeah. She never changed it when we got married. She was on the outs with the family then, but the name was…socially significant, she used to say.”
“They are kind of…famous around here,” the other woman explained to the new arrival. The man beside her snorted audibly, and he knew he’d been right about the distaste. “We’renot a densely populated county, but if there’s a family that is known by most residents, one way or another, it’s them.”
“You mean they’re…a big deal?” the redhead asked, an undeniable emphasis on the last two words, as if she were quoting them.
“So they think,” the man said. “Big real estate moguls, who like to buy up beautiful parcels of rural property and turn them into concrete canyons. Never mind the trees or the wildlife. Or that the roads and local facilities can’t handle it.” His tone matched that snort, and Colby felt a spark of hope. If that was how they felt about the Hollens…
“That’s what Grace said about her mom. That she thinks she’s a ‘big deal.’”
“And I’m not,” Colby said wearily. “And don’t want to be. Never did. Which is why the divorce.” He grimaced. “She thought I’d want to take advantage of the connection and move up—way up—in their world.”
The woman called Ali hesitated, those lovely eyes looking troubled. “Her mother wants to change her last name to Hollen, but Grace doesn’t want to. They fight over it, apparently.”
Colby bit his lip but couldn’t stop the moisture from welling up in his eyes. They’d fought over her first name, too. Grace had been his choice. She’d won that one, and the name on the birth certificate was Brianna, after her father, Brian. Well, she’d sort of won. Until Grace got old enough to choose for herself, and refused to respond to anything but Grace.
The redhead moved suddenly, crouching down as if she wanted to be on his level, eye to eye. The big dog nudged her, gently, and she looked at the animal. And Colby would swear, if it wasn’t crazy, that the dog nodded.
Then she looked back at him and said, very quietly, “She told me she loves you, very much, and she wants to keep your name.”
He lost the battle this time, and had to swipe at the tear that was starting down his right cheek. He didn’t dare try to speak. Was sure nothing could get past the knot in his throat her words had caused. He felt a touch on his left hand, and his gaze shot back to her face.
And then, somewhere out of left field, she asked in a normal voice, “Did you and Grace really build that birdhouse? Or should I say, bird apartment complex?”
He knew he was gaping at her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. But his throat loosened up enough that he thought he could get some words out.
“Yes. Yes, we did. Last summer, at my place.” Then his brow furrowed. “She still has it?”
“No. I do.”
He blinked. “What?”
“It’s in my garage for now, out of sight,” she said, nodding toward the cottage-style home he’d always liked better than the overdone thing Liz had insisted on. “Grace said that’s what you do. Build things.”
“Yes. I’m a carpenter,” he said, a little defiantly. “A good one. It’s what I love to do. I never wanted to build skyscrapers or industrial parks. Just things for…people.”
“And birds?” Ali asked gently. He nodded. “She asked me to hide it for her. To keep it safe.”
His eyes closed. He had to suck in a deep breath. And couldn’t keep the note of bitterness out of his voice when he said, “Yeah. Her mother wanted to burn it.”
“And she tried to. It’s a little scorched on one side, but no real damage that couldn’t be fixed, I think.”
He jolted upright. “Tried to? Who stopped her?”
“Grace pulled it out of the firepit in the backyard.”
He swore, harshly, not even trying to keep it under his breath. “She could have been hurt.”
She was looking at him now as if what he’d said had decided her somehow. She looked up at the couple, who had been oddly silent through this exchange. And then the dog moved, reaching out to gently nuzzle his hand. The uninjured arm, he noticed, although the dog couldn’t possibly understand that. His instinctive response was to pet the dark head, but he did so warily, given how the animal had first approached him.
The moment his fingers stroked over the dark fur, he felt an impossible wave of calm go through him, a reassuring kind of feeling. That he could feel that now, in the midst of near-panic about his baby girl, the pain in his arm and the specter of the Hollens hanging over him, was a little unsettling. As was the fact that it was coming from this dog he’d just moments ago feared was going to rip his throat out.
“Question,” said the man towering over him. Colby looked up, waiting. “You broke the window?”
He hesitated, decided trying to lie wasn’t going to do him any good, since he sucked at it, as Liz had often told him. And there was something about this guy, some air of authority or something, that told him it wouldn’t be smart to lie to him anyway.
“Yes. It was locked, and Grace was in there, curled up on her bed crying really hard. Screaming, in fact. I was afraid maybe…it had become physical.”
