The Hunt For Hawke's Daughter. Jean Barrett
Devlin’s rental car was parked out at the curb. A sporty white sedan. Karen could see it through the window of the kitchen door. She watched him as his long legs carried him swiftly to the vehicle. He never looked back, never hesitated as he opened the door and swung himself behind the wheel.
Sick with disappointment, she heard the engine turn over with an angry roar. She waited for the car to speed away down the street, taking him out of her life and away from any responsibility connected with her or Livie. To her surprise, this didn’t happen. Instead, he went on sitting there behind the wheel.
Puzzled, she went to the door and pressed her face against the glass, straining for a better view. It looked like he was whistling as he sat there staring off into space. Actually whistling. What on earth—
A few seconds later, in an attitude of resentment, he slapped the wheel with the palm of his hand, turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Karen backed away from the door as his tall figure strode toward the house. There was a grim expression in his deep blue eyes when he stormed into the kitchen.
“Will he hurt her?”
Devlin offered no apology, no explanation, just that single gruff demand. But she understood him. He was asking her how serious a threat Michael was to Livie.
“I hope not,” she answered him quietly. “I always trusted him with her. But that was before today, before I learned Michael is someone I don’t know.”
“In other words, you’re not sure.”
“No. How can I be?”
“Then we have to find them,” he said decisively. “We have to get her back.”
Her relief must have been evident, and it had to have worried him because he qualified his intention with a swift, “Don’t make any mistake about this, Karen. Committing myself to recovering her doesn’t mean I plan to get emotionally involved either now or in the future.”
It wasn’t necessary for him to tell her. She could see it on his face. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to help her, wanted nothing whatever to do with his daughter, but his conscience wouldn’t let him walk away.
He couldn’t have been more clear about it, but he must have feared she might not believe him. He was compelled to elaborate on his harsh warning. “I’m not going to turn into a daddy because of this. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll break my neck to see that she’s safe. And I’ll pay child support. No arguments about that. But don’t expect anything else from me, because you won’t get it.”
She was hearing just what she’d wanted to hear. That he would make every effort to recover Livie without any claim on her. Then why did she feel this great sadness? Why did it hurt her that he was so careful to omit any reference to Livie as his daughter, or even call her by name? It was obvious he didn’t want Livie to have any real identity for him, that as long as he kept her that way he could preserve his vital detachment. But why should he feel such a fierce need for that detachment?
As usual, her face must have told him what she was thinking because he added an emphatic, “We’re not going to talk about this either, Karen.”
She had no intention of arguing with him. She didn’t want to risk losing him. Whatever his terms, she would accept them.
“There’s one more condition,” he said.
“Yes?”
“It’ll be necessary for us to work together, but as much as it’s possible, I want this to remain a business arrangement. A friendly, but impersonal, business arrangement.”
What was he afraid of? she wondered. A closeness that might jeopardize some promise he’d made to himself?
“When all this is over,” he went on, “we go our separate ways, you here in the Twin Cities and me back in Denver. Understood?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good.” Wearing a scowl, he glanced around the kitchen while mopping at his brow with the back of his hand. “And if I’m going to spend any time at all in this house, I have another request.”
“What is it?”
“Get your damn air-conditioning fixed. And in the meantime, let’s get out of here and find someplace reasonably cool while you fill me in on the essentials.”
THE SPOT Devlin chose for their conversation was one of the most pleasant in the Twin Cities. Standing side by side at the railing of a paddle wheel boat that cruised up and down a brief stretch of the Mississippi, with Minneapolis on one shore and St. Paul on the other, they watched the scene slide by.
Twilight was stealing over the river, bringing with it a cool breeze. Lights began to wink in the high-rises massed against the pearly sky. The riverbanks were popular in summer, teeming with couples strolling arm in arm, teenagers in-line skating, families dining at outdoor cafes.
It was a serene setting, almost magical in its mood. And Karen found it deeply frustrating, even painful. There were young children among the crowds, safe in the company of their parents. Watching them, she could think of nothing but Livie who might be anything but secure at this moment.
Why were they here on this silly boat? Why weren’t they searching for Livie? Karen felt a desperate need for action, and Devlin sensed it.
“Easy,” he said in a soothing voice.
And that was another thing. His closeness was disturbing. She was too aware of his warm, intimidating bulk as his shoulder grazed hers. She preferred him as he’d been back at the house, brusque and remote, not trying to comfort her like this.
“I can guess what you’re feeling,” he said, “but we have to talk. I have to have some answers before I can decide where to begin.”
Conceding the necessity for that, Karen relaxed. “What do you need to know?”
“As much as you can tell me about Michael Ramey. Start with how you met him.”
“It was nothing out of the ordinary. We were both taking this evening course on financial investments. He asked me out for coffee one night after class.”
“And you went.”
“Why not? He was very pleasant, attractive. And, like me, he was unattached. He had no family at all, so we had that in common. He said he was just out of a long relationship, but he didn’t like to talk about it.”
“So you started to date.”
“That’s right. Sometimes Livie would go with us. He was very good with her, and that was important to me. It was all very conventional.”
“Including the marriage that followed, huh?”
“I suppose so.”
“What else? What about his hobbies, his interests?”
“His business seemed to take up a lot of his time. He did play golf sometimes.”
“How about friends?”
“There’s no one special.”
“Connections from his past?”
She shook her head.
Devlin pushed away from the rail and turned to gaze at her, his expression accusing. “You don’t know a whole lot about this guy you married and lived with, do you?”
“I knew what counted,” she said defensively. “That he loved Livie and me and that he offered us security.”
She turned away from the look in his eyes and stared out at the lighted shore, listening to the sound of the paddle wheel churning the waters, smelling the aromas of the river. After a moment she stirred restlessly.
“All right,” she admitted, “I was vulnerable,