Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [105]
“He said what?”
“He said that when you died, you took my name to heaven with you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mara asked gently. “I don’t understand.”
“I guess he meant . . . well, that it was a name that you chose.” Julianne’s face clouded. “That you wanted to keep it close to you . . . ?”
“Does that make sense to you?”
“It sort of did when I was little,” Julianne said uncertainly.
“You’re not a little girl anymore. You’re almost a teenager. A very smart teenager. Think about the things he’s said to you. Do they make sense?”
Julianne made a circle on the tile floor with her bare toes, but did not respond.
“What do you like for breakfast?” Mara asked, deciding that she’d do well to take the pressure off Julianne for a bit. She’d given her something important to think about. She didn’t want to burden her with too much at once.
“Just juice is okay.”
“Maybe some toast with it?”
“Okay.”
Annie called the dog from the living room.
“Walk, Spike. Let’s go.”
She didn’t have to call him twice. Spike ran to Annie, his tale wagging a mile a minute, eager for his morning excursion.
“Can I go, too?” Julianne asked.
Mara felt the panic rise within her. Jules could be out there, anywhere, waiting.
“Not this time,” Annie told her as she snapped Spike’s lead to his collar. “He wants to go out now, and you’re not dressed yet. Next time, maybe.”
“Okay.” Julianne nodded and reached for the glass of orange juice Mara held out in trembling hands.
Julianne watched her with wary eyes.
“What would you like to do after breakfast?” Mara asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t go anyplace. I don’t have any clothes.” She took a sip of juice. “If you’re going to make me stay here, you’re going to have to get me some clothes to wear.”
“I’ll ask Annie when she gets back,” Mara told her.
“Why do you have to ask her?” Julianne frowned. “Can’t you take me?”
“I’ve been having problems with my car. She’d have to drive.” Mara averted her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her daughter that she was afraid to let her leave the house.
Maybe we can get Miranda to come along. She has a gun. Annie doesn’t carry a gun. . . .
“Do you work?” Julianne asked.
“Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer. I work with the courts. I’m what they call a child advocate. When there are custody disputes in families, I represent the child or children.”
Julianne stared at her, then said, “So if my dad came for me and went to court with you, they’d give you custody because they know you. That won’t be fair.”
Mara bit her lip. She wasn’t going to get into what could be an ugly discussion with Julianne. She wanted to tell her daughter that the courts would give her, Mara, custody because her father had broken the law, but she couldn’t let her feelings for Jules surface to sour this time with Julianne. So she said nothing. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sank into a chair at the table.
“Does she work?” Julianne pointed out the window to where Anne Marie stood chatting with Aidan.
“Yes.”
“What does she do?”
“She works for the FBI.”
“Oh.” Julianne watched Annie for a few minutes, then asked, “Who is that man?”
“His name is Aidan Shields. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Why is he here?”
“He works with Annie.”
“He’s an FBI man?”
“Yes.”
“He’s waiting for my father to come for me, isn’t he? He’s going to arrest my father, and they’ll let you keep me because you work with those people.” Julianne threw the glass of juice across the room. It hit the cabinet above the stove and shattered.
“Julianne . . .” Mara jumped out of her chair.
“I’ll tell them I want to be with my father. I’ll tell them how you had those people steal me away. How my father had to keep me away from you because you were a bad—”
“Stop it,” Mara said softly. “You know that isn’t true. I have never stopped loving you. I never stopped praying that you’d come home.”
“Then why did it take you so long to find me? If you were looking so hard, why did it take you so long?” Julianne sobbed and rushed from the room.
Mara followed her daughter to her room and opened the door that had