Free Carolina Man by Virginia Kantra Page B

fascinated when she blushed under her makeup, the little ridge on her cheek standing out white against the pink. A scar.
    “I just meant . . . The court gives more weight to considered analysis than to emotional appeals.”
    “Sure. But emotion enters into their decisions, right? You said yourself that this social worker has to like us. Like me. So, what do you think?” He stood closer, enjoying the way her eyes dilated, the color running under her skin. His own blood heated in response. “Do I have a shot?”
    “I guess we won’t know until we get there.” Deliberately, she took a step back. “We can stop by on our way to the storage center.”
    He was momentarily confused. “Stop by?”
    “Dawn’s house.” Her lips twitched. “That is what you were asking, wasn’t it?”
    His grin mirrored hers. “You’re going with me.”
    “It’s on our way. We might as well check things out.” There it was again, that glint of humor, like a shell tumbling at the water’s edge, gone almost before it could be identified. “Anything’s possible.”
    Ooh-rah
.
    And maybe, he thought as he got in his Jeep and followed her to the outskirts of town, the new tenants had adopted the cat already. Maybe Taylor would be satisfied with that, honor would be satisfied with that.
    He wasn’t satisfied yet.
    He wondered if he would ever be satisfied where Kate was concerned.
Anything’s possible
.
    The houses got smaller and farther apart. White picket borders gave way to chain link fence, boats in the driveway replaced with rusting propane tanks and swing sets. Kate parked on the soft shoulder of the road in front of a brick bungalow. Luke pulled in behind her and got out.
    It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood. But it was a step up from her parents’ place. His respect for Dawn, for what she had accomplished on her own, for the life she had made for their daughter, grew.
    Jolene’s accusing voice played in his head.
You never sent a dime
 . . .
    Scattered toys and weeds had overtaken the yard next door, but the grass around the bungalow was recently mowed, the yard empty except for a red-and-white FOR RENT sign.
    No cat lurking in the bushes.
    No helpful tenants, either.
Damn
.
    “Here, kitty, kitty.”
    “Try the back,” Kate suggested.
    He walked and whistled, poked under bushes and peered under the porch, feeling like an idiot. “Here, Snowball.”
    No answer. He tromped around front again.
    “We should have brought a can of tuna,” Kate said.
    “Are you looking for Dawn?”
    A young woman leaned against the chain link fence, pretty, sharp featured, with a butterfly tattoo on one side of her throat and a baby on her hip.
    “Her cat,” Luke said. “Have you seen it?”
    “Sure. A couple of times. After . . . you know. Dawn died.” The baby grabbed a fistful of his mother’s shirt and tugged, exposing a lot of smooth, young skin and another tattoo. A fairy.
    “Recently?” Kate asked.
    “Four months ago.”
    “No, I meant, when was the last time you saw the cat?”
    “You’re not animal control.” The girl’s gaze slid back over Luke, taking in his olive T-shirt and fatigue pants. “Marines?”
    He smiled reassuringly. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Thought so.” She fixed him with wide brown eyes that reminded him of the dog in Afghanistan. Hopeful. Needy. “How did you say you knew Dawn again?”
    I didn’t know her. We dated in high school and I knocked her up.
“I’m Taylor’s father.”
    “Really? What’s your name?”
    “Luke. Do you remember the last time—”
    “I’m Sierra. I’ve never seen you around here before.”
    His jaw tightened.
No excuses
. “No.”
    “He’s been overseas a lot,” Kate said.
    “Funny, Dawn never mentioned you,” the girl said.
    Luke exhaled hard. Dawn had never mentioned Taylor, either, not to him, which was something else he couldn’t understand and was finding hard to forgive her for. Forgive himself for.
    Not that he spent a lot of time thinking