Free Unspoken by Lisa Jackson Page A

whole lotta time, or I keep digging on my own and any skeleton that happens to pop out of the Cole family closet will be out in the world for everyone to see.”
    “You might think twice about that.”
    “I have—and three times, and four and probably a hundred.”
    He bit off another olive. “Heard you were with Nevada Smith yesterday.”
    “I ran into him on the street.”
    Graying, bushy eyebrows rose skeptically. “Fancy that, the first person you meet is the one you should avoid.”
    “The father of my child.”
    “Maybe.”
    She felt her skin flush scarlet as she watched butterflies and bees flit from one overflowing pot of flowers to the next.
    “There’s the rub, Shelby-girl. What if the kid isn’t Smith’s? As bad as that would be, it could be worse, y’know.”
    She stood slowly and leaned over the table. She couldn‘t, wouldn’t let her father bully her. “The point is that the child is mine. That’s really all that matters. That’s why I’m back here. Now, you have a choice. Either you want to help me or you don’t, but either way I’m going to find my daughter.”
    “And if you do?” The third olive slid easily into his mouth, and he stared at her with the same determined gaze that he’d leveled at many a recalcitrant witness from his position on the bench. “If the girl is alive, if she’s yours and if you find her, what then? Are you going to rip her away from the parents she’s known for nine years? Tear her away from a mother, father and siblings, all so you can rest easy? Is that what would be best for her?” He washed the olive down with a long sip from his glass and Shelby felt sick inside. “Or is it what’s best for you?” The very doubts he’d voiced had plagued her from the minute she’d opened the envelope from San Antonio.
    “One step at a time,” she said, refusing to melt under his harsh glare. “First I find her.”
    “You’re playin’ with fire here, Shelby.”
    “Well, it never stopped you, did it?” She forced herself to remain cool. “Now, either you help me, or I go at this myself, but believe me, I am going at it.” She finished her iced tea and set the glass aside. “Who would send me that picture?”
    “Don’t know.” His eyes didn’t leave hers and not one of his graying hairs was out of place. His suit, shirt and string tie looked as fresh and crisp as if he’d just donned them while she was sweating buckets in a T-shirt and shorts. His ivory-handled cane lay across his lap, more an adornment than a crutch.
    “Okay, then who adopted my baby?” She wasn’t going to leave this alone.
    “Still don’t know.”
    “How can you sit there and tell me a bald-faced lie? You had to know.”
    Slowly, his words dropping out of his mouth syllable by syllable, he said, “I don’t know what happened to the baby. I didn’t ask.”
    “But you knew she survived.”
    “Nope. I only knew that she wasn’t born dead. Other than that, I didn’t see any reason to do anything more.”
    “She’s your granddaughter!” Even though Shelby had expected the truth, it hit her hard.
    “And you’re my daughter. I’ve always done what I thought best.”
    She couldn’t believe her ears and then wondered why she was even trying to reason with him. He’d always been a man who played by his own rules, bent the law to serve his own purpose and rationalized his actions. “Oh, God, I can’t believe this.” She flopped back against the meshed caning of the patio chair. “You’re insane.”
    “Practical.”
    “Manipulative. Oh, Lord.” Grabbing her tumbler, she pressed the sweating glass against her forehead as the ice cubes melted. How could this man, this self-important ogre, be her father?
    “What about Smith? Did you tell him about the baby?”
    “I had no choice.”
    “You always have choices.”
    “Not when someone you trust manipulates you.” She dropped the glass onto the table.
    The judge’s jaw slackened. A sudden sadness crept into his