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As to Pamela Swigert, upon learning that there was no Mrs. Parker, she had taken to unexpectedly dropping in with offerings of food and parenting advice, neither of which Mike particularly appreciated any more than the flirty come-hither attitude that accompanied them.
He had neither the time nor the inclination to enter into any kind of romantic liaison with a woman, any woman. But most certainly not with a neighbor, even if she had been his type, which Pam decidedly was not. Trouble was, he had no idea how to let her know that without hurting her feelings.
Which was why Mike chose avoidance whenever possible, inconvenient though that was. Like right now, with Pam Swigert in the frozen food section where Mike needed to get some things, as well. A pizza, for one thing. It was Cory’s favorite food and Mike figured if they shared one for dinner, the talk they were going to have to have just might go a little easier. Hell, he’d get her Rocky Road ice cream, too. As soon as the coast was clear.
Mike backed up a few steps and peered around the corner. And stifled an oath when he found himself practically nose to nose with a delighted Pamela Swigert.
“Mike!” she exclaimed, fluttering night-black eyelashes that never failed to fascinate Mike, they were so impossibly thick and long. False, Corinne had scornfully proclaimed them. “I thought that was you I saw skulking by a minute ago.”
She tapped him on the arm with a flirty moue. “Not trying to avoid me, were you?”
“Lord no.” Mike mustered a grin. “Just a bit preoccupied, I guess.”
“Problems?” Pam was instantly all sympathetic concern. “Anything I can do?”
“Oh, no.” Heaven forbid. To change the subject, Mike craned his neck to look past her. “This the frozen food aisle?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. “Thought I’d get us a pizza—”
“Pizza?” Pam squealed, pointing to the two large rounds in her own cart. “Can you beat that! Great minds do think alike, I swear. I’ve got enough here for you to join Warly and me. It’ll be fun.
“Come on,” she insisted prettily, gripping his arm when Mike pulled back, ready to say no. “Don’t be a poop.”
A “poop"? Mike shook his head, chuckling a little ruefully as he gently but firmly peeled Pam’s fingers off his arm. Sparkly little hearts on. her inch-long, deep red nails momentarily arrested his gaze before he lifted it to her skillfully made-up face.
“Thanks for the invite, Pamela,” he said. “But I’m afraid it’s just not a good time for us to be sociable right now….”
Pam’s smile remained in place, but one pencil-sharp eyebrow arched. “Since by ‘us’ you obviously mean yourself and Corinne, dear heart, I suppose that means you don’t know after all.”
“Don’t know what?” Anxiety slammed into Mike’s gut like a boxer’s fist.
Pamela’s light laugh held an edge of uneasiness. “About the rock concert at Milton Stadium. I dropped the girls off there half an hour ago.”
“What?” Mike had to hold on to his cart with both hands to keep himself from grabbing the woman and shaking her till her capped tceth rattled. “You took Corinne to a rock concert without my permission?”
Faced with his barely leashed fury, Pamela blanched. “W-well,” she stammered before gathering herself together with a flare of indignation. “I thought she had your permission.”
“Did she say she did?”
“Not in so many words, no.” Pam tossed her glossy mane with obvious pique. “But she certainly had, the money.”
“Money?” Just that morning Corinne had demanded her allowance—fifteen dollars—because she was broke. Mike had told her she’d get it as soon as she did her chores.
“How much money?” Mike asked, sickness gathering in the pit of his stomach.
“She had a fifty-dollar bill.”
She had a fifty-dollar bill. Letting himself into the house, Mike was still reeling from that statement and its implications. His daughter was no longer just a rebel at odds with herself, her father and her circumstances, she was a thief. A thief!
Thunderstruck, Mike had abandoned his grocery cart and walked out of the store without another word to the visibly shaken Pamela.
Dropping onto a chair at the kitchen table where a cereal box and two milky bowls bespoke this morning’s hasty departure, he felt as if he had taken a beating—defeated and sore right down to his bones. He felt so deeply and utterly betrayed that he would have wept had he had the tears.
Putting his elbows on the table, he dug his fingers into his scalp and despaired of ever being able to reach his daughter after this.
What had the teacher said after he’d spelled out to her how things were between Corinne and him?
“Time, patience and love, Mr. Parker. That’s what your daughter needs from you right now. Except for the basics such as pulling her weight around the house, leave the rules and the discipline to me here at school for the time being….”
So how do you propose I handle this, Ms. McKenzie?
Mike raised his head. He looked around the cozy kitchen, his eyes flicking over each familiar item they’d brought with them from Idaho as if he’d never seen any of it before. His gaze stopped at the white porcelain cat with its slightly chipped, raised black paw.
It was Becky’s cookie jar, which now served as the bank for the emergency cash he liked to keep around the house. A couple of hundred dollars, for those unexpected incidentals. It was a carry-over from his parental home, and probably no longer even necessary in this day of credit cards and ATMs.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving the silly cat, Mike rose from his chair and walked over to the shelf on which it sat. He stood in front of it for a long time, staring at it and debating with himself whether he really wanted to do this or not. He leaned heavily toward not. There really was a certain comfort in not knowing the truth.
Coward? No.
Jaw set, Mike grabbed the jar. Putting one hand on one of the cat’s ears, he raised the lid. He set lid and jar down on the counter and reached inside. Irrationally, his heart lifted a little as his fingers latched onto several bills. As if having Cory steal from strangers was better than having her steal from him. He pulled the bills out There were four of them. He fanned them a little. Three twenties and a ten.
His chin dropping to his chest, Mike closed his fist around the bills, crumpling them. A sound very much like a dry sob rose into his throat and refused to be swallowed. It burst from him with terrible force as he blindly stared at the crumpled bills in his hand and raggedly exhaled.
In all, the bank was short one hundred and thirty dollars.
Chapter Two
It was well past six o’clock when Hally pulled her classic, buttercup yellow convertible VW Bug into the drive on her side of the duplex she co-owned with her mother. The house was a white stucco affair, pre-World War II, and each half had its own sweep of wide steps leading up to its own pillared veranda and its own front door. A lawn hardly bigger than a place mat separated the two sets of steps that were each flanked by flowering shrubs.
A one-car garage sat back from each side of the house at the end of the respective driveways, but neither Hally nor her mother used the squat little building for its designated purpose. For Hally it served as a catch-all storage place while Edith Halloran McKenzie had converted the garage into a studio in which she created her fabulous stained-glass art.
Hally could hear the telephone through her screened open windows as she unlocked her front door. Hurrying inside, she tripped over Chaucer who, as usual, appeared out of nowhere and was trying to beat her into the house.
The cat yowled his indignant protest, drowning out Hally’s muttered epithet. In the kitchen, she lunged for the phone just as its ring abruptly stopped.
Garnet Bloomfield, she thought with a baleful glare at the instrument. With a sigh of vexation, she plunked her bulging tote on the nearest chair and her keys on the kitchen table. Probably called to read me the riot act for not showing up for aerobics.
As if I had a choice.
Out of sorts, Hally bent and absently stroked Chaucer who was winding himself around and between her legs in a bid for apology and attention. She fretted. The meeting with Michael J. Parker had been necessary but, darn it—this new school year was supposed to be the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life. Her horoscope had said as much. Her bank account agreed—come June it was time to cut loose and make a change.
Which meant that come June she would pack her bags, lease out the house and hit the road to Florence, Italy, for the year-long sabbatical that had always been her dream. Or, if not always, at least since a certain medical student had cured her of romance back in college.
Before the trip began, however, she planned to be a whole different person. For one thing, she intended to have a leaner body. And long, smooth tresses that could be swept back into a simple and classic hairstyle. She also meant to acquire the kind of simple and classic wardrobe in basic black, taupe and cream that never went out of style. Especially in Europe.
“I’m gonna have to get tougher with my time, Chauce,” she muttered, and puffed out another long breath of vexation as she straightened. Today’s aerobics class was to have been step one on the road to Fiorenze. Tomorrow night’s Italian language class would be step two.
“And nothing’s darn well going to interfere with that,” Hally emphatically informed the cat. Living alone, conversations with Chaucer were a normal occurrence. “I’ve waited too long for this to let myself get sidetracked by other people’s problems.
“Oh, all right.” Giving in to the cat’s insistent pleas, Hally grabbed a can of cat food out of the cupboard, opened it and dumped it into a bowl. “If you aren’t going to listen, you might as well eat.” She set the food on the floor. “Here. Stop complaining.”
As Chaucer fell on his meal as if he hadn’t had nourishment in years, Hally filled another dish with water, set it on the floor, as well, and flicked on the radio.
“Police used tear gas and water hoses to subdue hundreds of rioting teenagers at Milton Stadium where the Leapin’ Lizards, a popular rock group, unexpectedly canceled their scheduled appearance….”
Horrified by what she was hearing, Hally stood frozen at the sink. Teakettle in hand, she stared at the radio. Almost certainly some of the kids involved or affected by the mob scene would be students of hers.
“One death and scores of injuries are reported. Details in—”
Hally didn’t wait to hear more. Her resolution of nonextracurricular involvement forgotten, she had already scooped up her keys and was out the door.
It was not very far from her house to the stadium, a couple of dozen blocks. Hally broke several traffic laws on her way over, ignoring stop signs and speed limits alike. A sense of urgency spurred her on; she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was needed at the site.
Pandemonium reigned on the street in front of the stadium. Hally got out of her car several blocks away and ran the rest of the way on foot. Patrol cars, lights flashing like psychedelic beacons, formed a four-direction barrier around the milling crowd that was surrounded by officers in riot gear. Several ambulances with rotating lights like glaring strobes were inside the parameter. The air smelled of sulfur and hovered like rancid fog over the nightmare scene. The noise was incredible—shrill, desperate and angry human voices trying to make themselves heard over sobs, screams and curses punctuated by sirens, and the thud of nightsticks connecting with the backs of those who still dared rebel.
Hally pushed and elbowed her way through the volatile crowd of spectators, parents and freaked-out kids who surged against—and were barely held back by—the human bulwark of the riot police. She didn’t know whom she was looking for. No one in particular she would have said, if asked. She only knew she had to be here, to be available to help in case—
When she suddenly saw Mike Parker, grim-faced and ashen, at the far edge of the crowd, the realization that she’d come here looking for him smacked her in the face like a stinging slap. Oh, no-oo…
Appalled, she tried to spin on her heel and run the other way. Hemmed in by the crowd, however, this was impossible. She did the next best thing and sharply averted her face, though not before noting with a pang that the man seemed to have aged ten years since leaving her office less than two hours ago. And that his formerly immaculate hair was a mess of rumpled waves, his suit jacket hung open, and his loosened tie was askew. He looked like he’d been through the wringer.
Because all of her nobler instincts urged her to rush to him and offer assistance, Hally fought desperately to stay where she was. Face contorted from battling herself as much as from the jabs, shoves and pushes the milling crowd was inflicting, she sternly reminded herself that what Michael Parker and his daughter needed was more than she was willing to give. She had her own agenda, her own plans and goals, and they didn’t include a troublesome widower with an even more troublesome daughter. She had given him the best professional advice she could.
Oh, damn! She gasped as a sharp elbow stabbed into her ribs and heels ground down on her instep. She swiveled around and once again caught sight of Mike Parker. He looked lost and terribly alone as he scanned the crowd for a glimpse of his daughter.
“Michael!” Hally yelled, the name erupting from her without conscious will. Realizing that there was no way he could hear her, she shoved and strong-armed her way toward him. “Mr. Parker!” It was like fighting an incoming tide. Worse, it was like one continuous series of headon collisions that soon left her battered and breathless.
And yet she fought on, drawn by something from this man she barely knew, and resenting it every step of the way. Still, she continued to yell his name, continued to wave one arm above her head while pushing forward with the other.
And all the while calling herself every kind of a fool.
When Mike finally became aware of her struggle toward him, for one brief instant the terrible strain and anguish that marred his face eased into something like gladness and relief.
Hally felt an answering gladness inside of herself, which she instantly squelched with a stern, You’ll help him find his daughter and that’s all. She watched him move in her direction, using his superior height and visible determination to meet her halfway.
He had almost reached her when something hard smacked Hally right between the shoulder blades at the same time as her legs got tangled up with someone else’s. She lost her footing and her breath simultaneously. She stumbled and fell to her knees, and the sea of humanity closed in around her. She tried to get back on her feet. Couldn’t. Couldn’t get up, couldn’t breathe. Feet stepped on her, bumped her. She screamed.
“Halloran! Halloran McKenzie!”
Hally could hear Mike Parker’s voice, but blackness was closing in. She was being smothered, trampled. Help!
“Oh, God. There you are.” Strong hands hauled Hally to her feet, supported her as she swayed, gasping for air. “Are you all right?”
Hally blinked back the fog clouding her vision. Her ears rang. Mike Parker’s worried face wove in and out in a dizzying pattern. She choked back a wave of nausea and dug her nails into his sleeves. “I’m f-fine…”
“I doubt it,” she saw as much as heard Mike say before he half dragged, half carried her to the edge of the crowd. Like a distant observer she was aware of him wiping dirt off her face and smoothing down her clothes. His ungainly hands were incredibly gentle.
The moment that registered, Hally stepped away from him with a choked, “Thanks.”
Mike’s hands dropped to his sides, closed into fists. “What’re you doing here?” His face was gray. “You could’ve been killed.”
“Yes, well.” Gradually the world slid back into focus and Hally was able to meet Mike’s bleak, searching gaze. She ran a shaky hand through her short crop of curls. She cleared her throat.
“C-Corinne?” she croaked.
If possible, Mike’s face grew grayer still. “All I know is that she’s here. Somewhere…”
“I was afraid of that.”
For just an instant they stared into each other’s eyes and recognized an emotional connectedness that neither would have consciously welcomed or acknowledged. It was gone with the flick of a lash as Hally heard the frantic call of her name.
“Ms. McKenzie! Ms. McKenzie!”
She looked around and spotted another woman in the thick of things. She was waving her hands and bobbing up and down like a cork in the sea some fifteen feet away. Hally recognized her as the parent of one of her former, as well as present students.
“Mrs. Undser!”
“Have you seen Susan?” the woman shouted as the jostling crowd dragged her in a direction away from Hally and Mike.
Hally shook her head, hard. “No. But I’ll keep an eye out for her, okay?”
The woman’s answering nod was distracted. She was fighting against the current of humanity just as Hally had been.
“Look.” Mike’s fingers bit into Hally’s arm and reclaimed her attention. “Over there. Corinne.”
Hally swiveled her head in the direction he pointed. Sure enough, Corinne Parker’s spiky bleached hair surfaced for a moment in the sea of restlessly milling youngsters the police had cordoned off.
“Come on.” Grabbing Hally’s hand, Mike shoved toward the line of patrolmen with aggressive purpose.
Hally used her own free arm and hand to help him clear a path. “They’re herding her into that police van over there!” she yelled, needlessly, since Mike could certainly see what was happening, too.
“Officer.” They had reached the armored human wall around the kids. “Please,” Mike implored the nearest policeman. “I’ve got to get through. That’s my daughter over there. She’s only fourteen, an innocent bystander. I know she didn’t do anything.”
Except steal from me.
“Move along, sir,” the beleaguered lawman said curtly.
“But she didn’t do anything!” Mike repeated with angry exasperation. “If you’ll just let me go and get her…”
“I’m telling you only once more,” the officer bellowed. “Move along. They’re all innocent to hear them tell it.”
The officer glared at Mike, brandishing his nightstick. “Move now. Get”
“Come on, Mike.” Hally tugged on Mike’s arm to end the glaring contest she knew Mike had no chance of winning. The policeman held all the cards.
“Where are they taking the kids?” she asked the patrolman.
“Downtown.”
“Come on.” Hally pulled the fuming and reluctant-tocapitulate Mike forcibly away.
“There’s nothing you can accomplish here,” she told him across her shoulder. “But at least you can be at the other end to bail her out. Where’s your car?”
“Don’t have it,” Mike said grimly.
Hally frowned at him. “Then how…”
“Got a ride from a neighbor.” Mike clenched his teeth, rage consuming him. Damn that stiff-necked policeman. And damn Pam Swigert for getting Corinne into this mess in the first place. He didn’t care that it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the woman, any more than he cared to admit that this stranger his daughter had become would have found a way to get here, no matter what. He needed to blame someone—anyone.
And for the moment he was too overwrought to concede that the only one he should be blaming was himself.
“Where is he?” Hally asked, meaning the neighbor.
“She,” Mike absently corrected, frowning as he looked around. He had only just become aware that Pam had become separated from him somewhere along the line. “I don’t know. She’s a redhead…”
He scanned the crowd, concerned now for his neighbor’s well-being in spite of his anger. What if Pamela had fallen and been trampled, like Halloran McKenzie had nearly been? This was no place for anyone alone, least of all a woman.
“Is that her?” Hally pointed, already moving that way.
Mike followed. “Yes.” Alarm slammed into him. Pam was surrounded by several other women. She was crying. Black rivulets ran down her cheeks. Her always perfectly coiffed hair looked like a swarm of birds had gotten tangled up in it. She was obviously in great distress. “Pamela!”
He surged toward her, Hally in tow. “For God’s sake, what happened?” He let go of Hally to take hold of and support his distraught neighbor instead.
“Some kids beat on her pretty good,” one of the other women said when Pam just wailed and buried her face against Mike’s chest.
“Take me home,” she cried, blindly reaching out with one hand. To Mike’s shock and surprise, Latisha was there to take it. Corinne’s socalled friend.
Rage overcame him once more. “Why aren’t you with Cory?” he shouted at the hapless girl who, he only then noticed, was sobbing and as disheveled as her mother.
“W-we g-got se-separated and…and….”
“Never mind,” Mike said tiredly, his anger gone as abruptly as it had been aroused. It was all such a mess, such total madness. And there was nothing to be gained by yelling and carrying on.
“Halloran…” Guiding Pamela and her daughter out of the melee, he turned to Hally. “Look, I’ve got to drive them home. Could you…I mean, I know it’s an imposition, but could…”
“I go to the police station and find Corinne?” Hally finished for him when he hesitated. And as everything inside her yelled, No, no, no, she heard herself say, “Sure. Though you realize I won’t be able to spring her.”
“I know. I’ll get there myself just as quickly as I can. And, Halloran—” He gripped Hally’s shoulder and stopped her as, with a quick nod, she started to move away to go to her car. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Hally said, averting her eyes because the weary gratitude in his was making her feel like a phony. The last thing she wanted to do was to go to that police station. She moved away from Mike’s touch, thinking, How do I get myself into these things?
It smelled of dust, sweat and unwashed humanity. People were everywhere. Some clean, some not so. Some drunk. All of them unhappy to be there, even the police officers on duty, it seemed to Mike. Certainly they had long since given up on cordiality or even professional courtesy.
Tempers were short on both sides of the counter.
As promised, Hally was there, waiting for him. She had ascertained that the van carrying the adolescent miscreants had arrived and that the kids were being held in one large cell at the back of the building.
Irate parents were demanding the release of their offspring, Mike included. Harried officers were wrestling with the paperwork that would allow them to let go of their unwanted guests in the back, and thus clear the station of the throng of outraged citizens in the front.
Conversation between Mike and Hally was sparse as they waited for Corinne to be escorted out. At odd moments throughout the drive home with Pam, on the subsequent drive in his own car over to the station, and even during his dealings with the law, Mike would recall that he wasn’t alone in this fight for and with his daughter, and he’d experience a sense of wonder that left him puzzled and discomfited. And not a little scared.
Scared because Halloran McKenzie was the first woman since Becky who’d stirred in him a desire to know her better. A whole lot better.
Which, of course, simply could not be. He had enough on his plate without adding the complications of a romantic fling. If he knew what was good for him, he’d best get things back on a strictly professional footing right away.
“Ms. McKenzie.” Taking a deep breath, he slanted her a strained smile. “I don’t know how to thank you.”