Page 2 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 2
“Not exactly.” I glance down at our petite assistant, with her short, spiky purple hair and sparkling nose ring. She’s definitely a free spirit, dressed in a long flowery skirt and a white blouse with puffy sleeves. “I’ve got a job for you, Kimi. I need you to find out everything you can about Ian’s birth mother. She would have lost custody of him about twenty-five years ago, here in Chicago, when he was approximately five years old. I have nothing else to go on, I’m afraid. I don’t even know her name, and I don’t want to bother Ian with this. He’s going through enough as it is. See what you can dig up.”
Kimi nods confidently. “No problem, Mr. J. I’ll find her.”
“Thanks. Keep this between us for now, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss. Can you tell me what this is about? Knowing that might help in my research.”
I exhale heavily. I’m going to have to level with Kimi because I’ll need her help with this. “Ian just pulled an envelope out of our mailbox. It was hand-delivered sometime today. For starters, I need you to review the surveillance camera footage so we can try to ID whoever delivered it. And then find out everything you can on Ian’s birth mother.”
“Do you think she’s the one who left the note?”
“I don’t know, but it makes sense to start with her.”
As Kimi returns to the office, I follow Ian into the house. He has the babies out of their stroller and strapped into their baby seats, which are currently sitting side by side on the kitchen table. He’s in the middle of preparing bottles for two hungry babies.
Will is kicking his legs vigorously as he undoubtedly anticipates the arrival of a meal. Lizzie looks like she’s on the verge of throwing a fit.
I catch one of Will’s feet and give it a light squeeze. “Hang on, pal. Lunch is coming.”
Ian is standing at the kitchen counter with his back to me. He heard me come in, but he has yet to turn around to greet me like he normally would.
I walk up behind him and lay my hands on his hips. “I know you’re upset.” He doesn’t respond, which tells me just how bothered he is. “Ian?” I turn him to face me. “Talk to me.”
He swallows hard. “I thought my old life was behind me. All that pain and ugliness.” He shudders. “The nightmares. I thought it was all in the past.”
“It is in the past. I’ll find out who sent that message.” I cup his face and make him look me in the eye. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Do you think it’s my birth mother?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I promise I’ll find out.”
“She hurt me then, and she’s trying to hurt me now.”
“Please try not to jump to conclusions, Ian. One thing I learned as a homicide detective—let the evidence do the work for you. We don’t know for sure who sent that message.”
“But who else could it be?” His voice breaks. “Who else could have photographs of me during that time? Or of my birth mom? It has to be her.”
His eyes tear up, and a few drops spill over onto his cheeks. I gently brush them away with the pads of my thumbs. It infuriates me that anyone would do this to him. “I’ll take care of it.” When I lean in to kiss his lips, I taste the salt of his tears.
One of the babies launches into a full-blown meltdown.
“Your daughter’s hungry,” Ian says, sniffing back tears as he returns to preparing bottles.
I’m blocking his view of the babies, so he can’t actually see who’s making all the fuss, but he recognizes her cry, which impresses the hell out of me. I’m still not sure half the time. You hear one baby cry, you’ve heard them all, right? Apparently not.
I walk over to the table, shrug off my suit jacket to hang it on the back of a chair, and then I unbuckle Lizzie and hold her to my chest. Immediately, she burrows her face against my white shirt, snuffling loudly. “There, there,” I say as I bounce her gently. “Lunch is coming.” I pat her back, and almost immediately she quiets down.
When Will joins in, I cradle Lizzie in one arm so I have a free hand to bounce Will’s seat. That seems to do the trick because his tears stop.
“God, that’s sexy,” Ian says as he brings the bottles to the table.
“What is?”
“You are.” He hands me one of the bottles and sets the other one on the table so he can extricate Will from his baby seat.“You’re a baby whisperer. They respond to you so well. It must be your deep voice. It makes me swoon, too.”
We carry the babies into the living room so we can sit on the sofa, side by side, and relax while we feed them.
Ian kicks off his sneakers and rests his stocking feet on the coffee table. Then he leans his head on my shoulder. He’s quiet as he watches Will drink his formula.
