Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [90]
“I show people the ugly side of life every day in my job,” he interrupted. “That’s what I do. I shine a light on things people would rather keep hidden. So don’t think I ever look the other way, because I don’t.”
A flush of red spread across her cheeks, and he could see a spark of anger in her eyes. Her breasts were moving up and down with the pace of her breathing, and he found himself wanting to undo the buttons on her paint-spattered shirt and see if her nipples were the same glorious pink as her cheeks. Damn. He’d thought she was pretty before, but now, in a passion, she was something else. And he was letting himself get sidetracked.
“It’s different to report what’s wrong in the world than to live it,” she said, her words fortunately drawing his attention away from her breasts.
He cleared his throat, trying to remember what they were even talking about. Catherine was turning out to be a bigger distraction than he would have ever anticipated.
“I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “Tell me more about the way you and Jessica grew up. I promise not to judge.”
“I doubt that’s possible,” she snapped. “How do you ever keep your objectivity when you’re reporting? You seem to have very strong opinions.”
“My opinions are the strongest when they involve the people I care about—like my brother.”
“Well, Jessica is a sister to me, so keep that in mind.”
“Okay, please go on.”
Catherine drew in a couple of breaths and then continued. “In foster care it’s all about fitting in. Not making waves so you won’t get kicked out of the home you’re in, won’t have to change schools again, won’t have to make new friends, start over. Not that all of the homes are good. Some are horrific. Some you have to run away from. And sometimes the only people you can trust are the other kids who are fighting for their lives. That’s why, when you find a couple of friends you think you can trust, you hang on for dear life.”
Catherine had painted a vivid and sad picture, and Dylan had to admit he felt some compassion for what Catherine and Jessica had gone through. His family life had not been good, but at least he’d always had Jake to try to run interference for him, to look out for him. Jake had been his savior on more than one occasion, and it would take him a lifetime to pay his brother back.
“Jessica was pretty soft in the beginning,” Catherine continued. “Because her parents died, she’d had a good childhood to start, so she knew what she was missing when things went bad. Some of the rest of us had never lived that other life, so in some ways it was easier to just accept what was. But Jessica kept thinking that her grandparents were going to come and rescue her. It took her a long time to give up on that hope. Finally she came to realize that you have to make a family where you can find one, and that family was Andy, Teresa, and myself. We tried to watch out for one another, but we were together for only a few years. I regret that Jessica and I lost touch after we split up. I was so happy when Teresa and Jessica said they were going to drive across country to meet me in New York.” Sadness filled her eyes. “If I had told them not to come, maybe none of this would have happened. But I didn’t, and it did, and that’s why you’re here.”
“What about you? How did you end up in foster care? What happened to your parents?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He knew he should shut up and respect her privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. “You had it rougher than Jessica, didn’t you?”
“It’s not my turn to tell my story,” Catherine said. “Nor is it yours.”
“I don’t have a story.”
“Yes, you do—maybe a story you don’t even know you have.”
He frowned at that cryptic statement, feeling a cold chill wash over him. There were some unanswered questions in his past, but he hadn’t asked them in a long time. Someday he might. But not tonight. “You’re good at distracting people. Back to Andy Hart. How are we going to find him?”