Paul looked around nostalgically. So little had changed here in the two years he had been gone. The only noticeable difference was the new name that had replaced his own on the precinct captain's door.
He glanced through the glassed-in office windows and saw Captain Simms working at her desk. {Ah yes, the never-ending paperwork.} He chuckled ruefully to himself and, on impulse, knocked on the open office door.
Simms looked up distractedly and then cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes?" Her tone was cool, and it was obvious she resented the intrusion by an unknown.
"Sorry to bother you, Captain Simms," he said apologetically. "I'm Paul Blaisdell, Peter Caine's foster father."
A rare smile lit up Simms's face. "Oh, yes. I've heard quite a bit about you, Captain."
"Paul," he politely corrected her. "I gave up the title when I gave up the job." He smiled at her. "The gang been behaving themselves for you?"
"As much as they would for any captain, I imagine," she commented wryly. "How is Peter? Any chance of him coming back to work soon?"
"Physically, he's doing well. I think the doctors are nearly ready to send him back for light duty. He has an appointment tomorrow, and then he said something about stopping here to talk with you. We think it'll be good for him to get back into a routine again and get his mind off things."
"How is he, really?" Simms's face was full of genuine concern.
Paul sighed again and shook his head. "I've never seen him like this before, not in the seventeen-plus years I've known him. I keep thinking of all the times I'd watch him go through life in fast forward and wish he'd slow down. Now I'd give anything to see that old energy back."
"Give it time, Captain -- Paul."
"Thank you for your understanding, Captain Simms."
She smiled at him and extended her hand. "Karen -- please."
"Karen." As they shook hands he looked at her from under shaggy brows. "I hate to ask a favor, Karen, but would you mind if I talked to one of your detectives for a few minutes?"
"Kermit?"
Paul stared at her, vaguely surprised. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact."
Her smile widened. "I try to keep track of my people, Paul. Kermit's in his office. It was nice to meet you. Feel free to stop in any time. And take as long as you need with Kermit."
They shook hands again and Simms returned to her paperwork as Paul headed for Kermit's open door. Leaning against the doorway a moment, he grinned when Kermit said, "Hi Paul," and kept right on typing.
"How'd you know it was me?" Paul asked.
Kermit's smirked and commented, "I'd tell you Annie's been giving me lessons, but you wouldn't buy it. I saw your reflection in my monitor."
"I'd have been worried you were slipping if you hadn't." Paul walked inside, closing the door behind himself. "Kermit, I need you to do something for me."
"Find a missing person?"
Paul looked at him sharply. "Annie been giving you mind-reading lessons, too?"
"Nope. Just figured that somebody would want to know where somebody was some time sooner or later."
"Yeah, well, somebody doesn't know I'm here looking for somebody, and I don't want him to know, especially if we don't have any luck."
"How is the kid?" Kermit asked softly.
"The life is gone right out of him. He's just going through the motions. His father and Annie and I have had some long talks with him, and those seem to have helped some, but..." He shrugged helplessly.
"Yeah, it's like he's given up on the world," Kermit agreed. "He was devastated when Rebecca was killed, and Kira's death knocked the legs out from under him, too, but this?" He shook his head. "I don't know."
"Kermit, can you use your connections to track this somebody down? It's illegal, it's unethical, and we're not being totally honest with Peter, either."
"As if any of those things have ever stopped me before." Kermit shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, I'm way ahead of you, Paul. I've been checking things out for days. Absolutely no trace of Kacie. It's like she's gone into the witness protection program, only better. I could find her, no problem, if she was in witness protection."
He typed in Kacie's name and retrieved his research data as he reported. "When she left town, she paid all her bills off in cash, and forfeited any deposits she had coming back from phone or utilities. She broke her lease, but bought out the time remaining, so the landlord was happy and asked no questions. She put all her furniture into storage, and paid a year's rent there, also in cash. No forwarding address at the post office. She picked up her last paycheck in person, so the hospital has no forwarding address. She didn't have any credit cards, so that's a dead end. I checked her bank records, and she closed out her checking account, withdrawing the money in cash. The savings account she ..." He hesitated a moment.
"What?"
"She changed it over into a college trust fund for Katherine Ann McCall."
Paul stared at Kermit. "She must be an amazing lady."
"Oh, yeah-h," Kermit drawled. "Peter was a different person after he met her."
"Well, he's sure a different person now. Don't you have anything at all?" Paul asked desperately.
"I got a copy of her phone records, but all I found was a long distance call to Denver."
"Whose number was it?"
"Denver PD, Metro division. Chief of Police Michael O'Brien."
"What did you dig up on him?"
"He was Patrick McConnell's partner for twenty years before moving up in the ranks."
"You think he knows anything?"
"He's the only chance we've got."
Paul tapped a finger against his temple as he mulled things over. "I think I feel a short business trip coming on."
"Taking Annie with you?"
"I don't intend to go anywhere without her ever again."
"I said something to the effect that I was in town for a few days and wanted to compare notes on police procedures."
"Do you think he believed you?"
"No reason for him not to, but he did sound a little skeptical, especially when I told him where I was from."
They reached the front desk, and after introducing himself and Annie to the desk sergeant, the Blaisdells were issued visitor badges and ushered to the police chief's office.
Michael O'Brien was a distinguished looking gentleman in his early fifties, still trim and athletic looking even though his hair was a silvery gray. He got to his feet when he saw Annie with Paul, and quickly pulled over another chair so the couple could sit together. After shaking hands and exchanging introductions, he went back around his desk and seated himself in his chair. "So, Captain Blaisdell, just what particular police procedures are you interested in discussing?" His eyes were not unfriendly, but there was no warmth there.
Paul met the chief's gaze with a guarded expression. "I am particularly interested in how you handle missing persons cases."
"Depends on whether that person is missing by choice or by chance."
"How would it be if I proposed a hypothetical case?"
"Fine by me. I like hypothetical cases. They're so easily resolved." He settled back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest. "Proceed."
"Let's say you were looking for a person, say a young woman, who left town unexpectedly, unannounced, and...unnecessarily...without a trace."
"Unnecessarily, you say. What if she felt there was just cause?"
"Let's say, there wasn't," Annie interjected quickly. "Let's say, there was a-a miscommunication."
"All right, let's assume what you say is true," O'Brien said in the same conversational tone. "Go on with your hypothesizing."
Paul went on earnestly. "Let's say you're unable to locate this person, to let her know she was given some false information, which caused her to think she needed to go missing."
"False information?" O'Brien bristled. "What if this false information deeply hurt this hypothetical young woman, and she's already seen more grief and pain in twenty-eight years than any one person should have to see in an entire lifetime?" He leaned forward in his chair and stared at Paul intently. "Could you blame her for going missing?"
"No, I couldn't," Paul admitted. "But let's say it was very vital to find this missing person."
"Why isn't the person who passed the misinformation around doing the looking? Still speaking hypothetically, of course."
"Let's say that person doesn't have medical clearance to fly yet."
O'Brien stroked his upper lip thoughtfully as he stared at the Blaisdells. "This person with the misinformation. Is he normally better informed?"
"I've never known him to do anything without having the best of intentions."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Captain Blaisdell."
"Be that as it may," said Paul. "How would you go about handling this case?"
O'Brien leaned back in his chair. "I suppose I would seek out someone who has some kind of connection to your missing person, and see if they would be willing to help you out."
Paul nodded his head slowly, presumably considering this piece of advice. He then picked up from the desk a framed photo of an attractive girl with dark brown hair and dancing blue eyes. "Beautiful girl," he commented before setting the picture back down.
O'Brien nodded, eyes softening with love and pride. "My goddaughter. She's an even more beautiful person on the inside than she is on the outside. She lost her family a few years ago, and, for a while, I was afraid herself, too. Katherine is one very special lady, and I don't take kindly to anyone who hurts her."
Annie unconsciously tightened her grip on Paul's arm. "We know what you mean," she said shakily. "We have a foster son that we happen to think is pretty special, too. When he's in pain, we're the ones who hurt."
O'Brien nodded and seemed to be in deep thought. "Well, Captain Blaisdell, I definitely think the way to handle your hypothetical case is to go to the connection to your missing person. Then you'll just have to be patient and wait and see if anything develops."
"I'm glad to see you handle things here much the same as we do back home," answered Paul. He helped Annie to her feet after he stood up. "Thank you for your time, Chief. We appreciate your input on this hypothetical case."
"I'm glad we had this conversation, Blaisdell," O'Brien commented. "It gives me a new perspective on a case I've been working on for the past couple of months. I appreciate your traveling all this way. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."
Paul held out his hand for O'Brien to shake. "I certainly hope so, Chief O'Brien. For all our sakes, I certainly hope so."
Paul and Annie silently left the building, each lost in their own thoughts. As they waited for a cab, Annie rubbed her cheek against Paul's shoulder. "What do we do now?"
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "Wait and see what develops, Babe. Wait and see what develops."
A wisp of smoke curled from the cabin's chimney. As the rider dismounted, a large, tricolor collie bounded up a trail from behind the cabin, barking the cry of a well-trained watchdog.
The barking quickly stopped and the tail started to wag as the rider addressed the animal. "Hey there, Lad. Good boy. Good dog." The collie grinned happily, tongue lolling as the man rubbed that certain spot behind the ears all dogs love to have scratched.
A lone figure strolled around the corner of the cabin, not in the least surprised to find a visitor. "Hi, Uncle Mike."
Michael O'Brien tipped back the Stetson on his head and replied, "Top o' the mornin' to ye, Katherine," in an affected Irish brogue.
The accent achieved the desired result as the corners of Kacie's mouth twitched upward. "It's almost four o'clock in the afternoon."
"Ah, but me darlin' girl, 'tis like mornin' to me whenever I feast me eyes upon the sight of you." He grinned boyishly.
"And I think that you have been kissing the blarney stone, Michael O'Brien," she accused him affectionately. She walked into his open arms and nestled there, sighing wearily.
"Ah, Katie girl, what are you doin' ahidin' away from the world up here alone?" He kissed the top of her head. "Don't you know how hard it is for an old man like me, who's more used to riding a desk than a horse, to come lookin' for you this way?"
"I'm not alone," she objected. "I have Laddie here, and Shandy and BJ over there." She pulled away from him and walked up the steps to sit on the small porch in front of the cabin. She drew her knees up under her chin and hugged her legs. "Who says I'm hiding from anything?"
He sat beside her on the steps. "What would you call it? You left your work, your friends, and your home, and you're sitting in front of a cabin twenty miles from the nearest other human, in a place you can only get to by helicopter or horseback. No phone, no electricity, and no indoor plumbing, for God's sake." He stared at her pointedly, and she looked away, down over the valley below, without responding.
Bumping her shoulder with his, he went on. "Mrs. Logan says you haven't been back to the ranch house in days. She's getting worried about you."
"I'm sorry about that," she muttered. "I'll be down in a few days. I'm beginning to run low on food."
"From the looks of you, you haven't been eating much at all."
"I hadn't noticed." She shrugged uncaringly and kept her gaze fixed out over the mountainside.
"Sure is beautiful up here." He abruptly changed the subject and leaned back on his elbows, reflecting. "I'd almost forgotten."
"I like it. I think it's the most beautiful spot in the world."
"How long has it been, darlin' girl?" he asked softly.
"How long has what been?" she asked, deliberately misunderstanding his question.
"You know what I'm talking about. Don't be playin' games with your Uncle Mike."
She turned a despairing look at him, eyes dark and sad. "Nine weeks, five days, and about six hours." She tried to smile at the attempted joke, but her lips only trembled.
"And are you missing him any less, then?" he asked gently.
She dropped her head down on her knees and failed to answer.
"Katie, my darlin', did I ever tell you the story of the brash young Irish cop and his beautiful colleen?"
Kacie kept her head hidden and said tiredly, "No, but I'll bet you're going to now."
He stared unseeingly down the mountainside as he narrated. "It was nearly thirty years ago it happened. Oh, this young boyo was a handsome devil. Black hair and blue eyes, full of piss and vinegar he was. A cop for five years, and never a thought of settlin' down. Love 'em and leave 'em was what he did. Until he met her. Oh, hit hard by Cupid's arrow he was. She was beautiful, warm, and loving, and had a laugh with the music of the angels."
He sat up straighter, and his voice took on a dreamy quality as he continued to tell his tale. "Talkin' of marriage, they were, until the one day out on his patrol he was beaten nearly to death by some bad ones. Never left his side, did his lass, until he was out of danger." He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Kacie turned her head away and jiggled her feet restlessly.
"You see, Katherine, sometimes when a strong man is brought low, he starts to thinkin' too much. He starts worryin' about the grief he could bring down on the head of his own dear one, and he sometimes thinks he must save her from this grief by turning her away."
Kacie rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently.
He went on, pretending not to notice her reaction. "He tried to break it off with her, but she would have none of it. She loved him and that was all that mattered to her. She refused to let him drive her away, and, finally, she wore him down." He stopped at that point and turned his head to look at Kacie. Her face was thinner, though tanned from time outdoors. Her dark hair was streaked with red highlights, brought out by hours in the sun.
The silence went on until she raised her eyes to look at him. "Well? Then what happened?"
He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple before looking back out over the valley. "Why then, Katherine Christine, your father married your mother."
Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. "Mom and Dad?" Her voice was shocked. "I've never heard this story before."
"That's right, my girl, your mother and father, God rest their souls. Patrick told me once that he thanked the Lord for every day he'd had with your mother, and that when he thought about how close he had come to throwing that happiness away..." He grinned and shrugged. "Well, he said he was glad your mother was not the kind of woman who gave up easily."
"This really happened with them? You're not making this up?"
"Sure, and have I ever lied to you before?" he asked reproachfully, chucking her under the chin.
"Never, Uncle Mike."
"Just what exactly did he say to you, Katherine?"
"He-he told me that he never loved me. That he only wanted to-to have sex with me. That I was blackmailing him into getting married," Kacie answered bluntly.
"And you believed him?"
Kacie's eyes widened and she turned her head slowly to stare at him. "What did you say?"
"I asked you if you believed him."
Her face reddened. "You didn't hear him, Uncle Mike. You didn't see the look on his face when he said those things to me."
O'Brien's eyes twinkled. "Katie, Katie, Katie. Didn't your father teach you to play poker? Didn't he teach you how to tell when a man was bluffing?"
Her jaw dropped in astonishment, a look of dawning understanding spreading over her face. "He made it all up?" Her eyes narrowed. "He made it all up, didn't he?"
"You're the expert where he's concerned. What do you think?"
Kacie's expression was thunderstruck. "He made it all up, and I fell for it. I am such an idiot!"
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I've my own opinion of who the idiot is here, but I am completely prejudiced." He glanced up at the sun and then at his watch. "Well, Katie, I must be headin' back down the mountain while it's still light."
They walked arm in arm over to his horse, and after he'd mounted, he reached down to take her chin in his hand. "Don't be stayin' up here too long, Katherine, my own. Your father would hate it, the thought of you here, shriveling up and blowin' away. Come back to the world again, mavourneen."
She threw her head back and laughed her first real laugh in weeks. "I think it's time I became my mother's daughter." She set her jaw determinedly, and her godfather nodded his head in approval.
Reining the horse away from the cabin, he chuckled to himself and said, "You've always been that, my girl. You've always been that."
Kacie absently patted the collie's head as she watched O'Brien ride away down the trail, and stared down the valley even after he had ridden out of sight. Taking a deep breath, she shouted at the mountains, "Hey!" and stood listening to the echo, "Hey-ey-ey."
A determined glint appeared in her eye, and she shouted again, "Hey! I'll teach you to get in a poker game with me!" She dashed into the cabin as the mountains reverberated back, "me-me-me."