Free Just a Little (5-8) by Tracie Puckett

not seeing, but I think I’m on the right track. I’ve got some guys doing some background research as we speak. I’m fairly certain we’ll have an answer by week’s end. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I will.”
    I gave Bruno a twisted smile and shook my head.
    “What?”
    “I thought you trusted Luke,” I said. “I thought you had a million reasons to believe he was trustworthy, honorable, worthy of a world of respect.”
    “Things change,” he shrugged.
    “So it seems,” I leaned over the center island, “but you didn’t answer my question earlier.” He raised his brow as if he didn’t remember what I’d asked. I lifted the folder that held the DNA results. “How’d you get this?”
    “Oh, Luke was easy,” he said. “Saliva from his coffee mug in the break room.”
    “And the girl?”
    “Molly,” he said. “You’ve seen her, right? She’s a short little booger: bright blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, bouncing blonde curls. You couldn’t mistake that hair for anyone else’s.”
    “True.”
    “I saw one of those stray curls clinging to her mother’s coat at the flower shop. Snatched it up, took it over to the lab, and asked the technician for priority placement. Few days later and bam ! Results were ready.”
    “But only a small percent of matching genes,” I said again, looking over the results for the hundredth time. “Does that mean she’s family?”
    “Yes.”
    “But I thought you said—”
    “Lonnie and Grace didn’t know her before she showed up in Oakland,” he said. “They’ll swear to that. As far as I know, as far as they know, Rebecca’s not related. Molly is.”
    “I don’t know how this stuff works,” I hoped Bruno could provide the insight that I needed. “Does this mean Luke is Molly’s dad?”
    “Not possible,” he said. “A paternity test would’ve concluded a much higher percentage—much closer to fifty percent. We’re looking at less than twenty-five percent between Luke and Molly.”
    “So what, then?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “They’re family; we know that. But not father and daughter. It’s just a matter of figuring out how Rebecca fits in to the equation. That’s the hard part. No one had heard of her until she blew into town a few weeks ago.”
    “Luke knows,” I said, dropping my head. I was sure of it. The only way he’d keep hanging around them—spending every waking moment with them—was if he knew exactly what connection he had with them. “That’s what kills me, Bruno. He knows the truth. Here we are running around like a bunch of crazy people trying to figure out what’s going on, and he could just tell us.”
    “If he wanted us to know, we would know,” he patted my hand. “Everything will get sorted out in due time, sweetheart. I promise.” I shook my head and read the results again, still trying to figure out how Rebecca and Molly could possibly fit into Luke’s life with Lonnie never having heard of her. Maybe she was one of his mother’s distant relatives?
    Bruno adjusted his belt. “Sorry to run, but I’ve gotta get to the airport by seven.”
    “Airport?” I asked. “You’re fleeing town right in the middle of an investigation?”
    “Heading out west for a few days.”
    “On business?”
    “Something like that.”
    “But you’ll be home for my surprise party on Friday, right?” I hoped he wasn’t planning on staying away too long. Bruno had somehow become one of the few people I felt I could truly count on. If there was anyone I wanted to celebrate my birthday with, it was him.
    A simple grin curved his lips, and he shook his head to ward off a laugh. “You know about the party?”
    “Don’t forget who’s throwing it,” I said, almost laughing. “I know he thinks he’s throwing me off the trail by waiting a few days after my actual birthday, but I’ve known for a while. Secrets aren’t exactly Charlie’s forte.”
    “Agreed,” he winked, “and yes, I’ll be back in plenty