Cari Webb - The Charm Offensive

“Understood.” Brad tossed the tape measure from one hand to the other. He’d already lied to his friend about not being on a case. Fishing for information couldn’t be a worse offense than that. “Anything else I should know?”

“Sophie and Ruthie have been best friends since high school.” There was a warning in Matt’s tone and caution in his silence.

Brad waited.

Matt added, “Sophie Callahan is what I like to call good people.”

He’d witnessed the darkness that festered inside good people enough times in his career as an investigator that he wondered if true goodness was more myth than reality. Only time would reveal if Sophie’s goodness came from her soul—something he’d yet to witness—or simply camouflaged a more corrupt nature. Something that had become his norm. “And I’m not good people?”

“You’re the bubble buster.” Matt laughed and punched Brad’s shoulder, breaking the tension and putting them back on familiar ground. “The harbinger of truth.”

“Truth sets people free.” Brad punched back. He was certainly free now that he’d learned the truth about his parents. Free from the manipulation. Free to pursue his own life on his own terms. He’d gained way more than he’d lost. And if he exposed Sophie’s father, George Callahan, for the low-life thief that he was, then he’d set Sophie free as well, if she was innocent.

“And I don’t always expose the full truth.” He knew when to hold back, like now, with his friend. Brad rubbed at his neck. Surely that wasn’t guilt knotting his muscles. Guilt wasn’t standard procedure. “The Nikkos kids will learn the truth about their arms-dealing father when he goes to trial. And that wife of the fraudulent banker hadn’t wanted to accept the facts. But the truth always comes out eventually, whether a person is prepared or not.”

“Your brand of truth alters lives. And you know I agree with you, or I wouldn’t have joined you on those cases or any of the others.” Matt opened the lid on his toolbox. “But there’s an aftermath.”

Brad tossed the tape measure inside and closed the lid. If only that pinch of guilt was as easy to discard.

Matt studied him. “But she isn’t your case.”

“No.” Sophie Callahan was part of the aftermath. He’d skipped breakfast that morning and assumed the gnawing in his stomach was from hunger, not unease about Sophie. He’d never stayed long enough to witness the ramifications or the consequences. He’d always presented his findings, ensured justice was done and moved on.

Except for his last FBI investigation that had resulted in a counterattack explosion, an innocent woman’s death and his resignation. Yet, according to Dr. Florence, he’d resolved his feelings of regret and blame in his yearlong biweekly therapy sessions. Though, now, he wasn’t so sure, and despite leaving the Bureau, there was still always a next case. Still never time to review his emotions or stick around for the aftermath.

Matt squeezed his shoulder. “Besides, in a few weeks you’ll be leaving the corporate embezzlers, cyber criminals and money launderers behind and seeking your own truth with the sharks, stars and open waters.”

“Maybe when I return, I’ll be good people, too.” Brad feared if he stayed in the city, he’d become more like his mother. Matt would never consider Harringtons good people if he knew the full truth about Brad’s family.

“You should at least have a good tan.” Matt laughed before climbing into his truck.

Brad watched Sophie return to the storefront and help Ella into a fuzzy jacket that made her look like a baby polar bear: warm and bundled up and adorable. Sophie slipped into a similar fleece jacket that she zipped up to her chin. Brad decided Sophie looked entirely too huggable and tempting. For that alone, he needed to expose her secrets.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and strode down the sidewalk. Within twenty-four hours, he’d have Sophie’s security system installed; before the end of the long weekend, he’d locate her wayward father and deliver the truth to his client. As for Sophie, she was either innocent or guilty. Right now, he’d bet on the latter. No woman had ever gotten under his skin, or rather sneaked under, until today. Either she practiced witchcraft or had perfected a legitimate cover that only made him all the more suspicious. No one would ever imagine the adorable pet-shop owner who rescued strays to be a master con artist. No one except him.

A forgotten section of the Times tumbled out of the mist as if the fog had printed its own dire headlines. He stomped on the newspaper, stopping its escape, and bent down, crumpling it in his fist. Somewhere he’d lost his ability to believe in good. To see hope. To imagine something better. He smashed the newspaper into an overflowing trash can, wanting to punch through his own cynicism. But he feared no matter how far he dug, he might never discover that missing part of himself. It was like searching for a rare penny in the city dump. An impossible task.

For now, he just needed to finish this case quickly. Then he’d do what he always did—move on. Or in this case, set sail.

CHAPTER THREE

“WE NEED TO HURRY.” Ella pulled her hood over her braids and gripped Sophie’s elbow. “I don’t want to miss the bus.”

“It’s five blocks and the fog delayed the bus’s departure.” Sophie dipped her chin inside her jacket. The unusual chill never cut into Ella’s enthusiasm. But the drizzle edged under Sophie’s collar, and a shiver ran through her. “I remember when it took you over one thousand steps to walk to school.”

“There’s no time for counting today, Auntie.” Ella squeezed Sophie’s arm, the pressure matching the urgency in her tone. “We have to talk about keeping Stormy Cloud.”

“Stormy Cloud,” Sophie repeated.

“The tiny kitten that April told me is most likely deaf,” Ella said. “She’s soft like a summer cloud, but her purr makes her sound like a storm cloud. No one likes storm clouds, Auntie.”

“I do,” Sophie said. The same way she liked the city fog and its changing weather moods, except today, when she needed sun—bright, bold and encouraging.

“That’s why we need to keep her,” Ella said. “She’ll just be an inconvenience to another family.”

There was that word again. The chill settled deep into her bones as if it intended to become permanent. Sophie tugged Ella closer.

Ella plowed on. “Is Brad an animal rescuer?”

“No, he stumbled upon those kittens accidentally.”

“That’s too bad.” Ella frowned. “I wanted him to rescue another litter so he’d have to come back to the store.”

“You liked him?” Sophie asked. Ella’s answer mattered. She didn’t want it to matter. Brad Harrington had a temporary place in their lives. Still, the mention of Brad brought a welcome warmth inside her.

Ella nodded. “His voice is good like an extra glass of hot chocolate, but sticky, like the laughter is trapped in his throat and he just needs someone to free it.”

“What’s my voice like?” Sophie asked.

“You sound like a mom.”

Before Sophie could ask if that was good or bad, Ella moved on, her conversation covering more ground in the five blocks to the school bus than most people covered in an eight-hour shift. “Papa George promised to take me to a concert.”

Sophie winced. Papa George needed to call his daughter back. Papa George needed to return Sophie’s money. Papa George needed to stop making promises he couldn’t keep.

Giggles and the stomping of boots disrupted Sophie’s irritation. Ella’s friends crowded around, peppering her with questions about her gorgeous braids. Four schools in four years and finally they’d discovered a place where Ella could flourish. Sophie had never considered that the public school less than a mile from their home would be the best fit for her legally blind niece. But the proof embraced Ella on the cement sidewalk in a diverse circle of acceptance and friendship and trust. Moving Ella to yet another school was not an option.