Part 30 (1/2)

He closed a hand over hers on the k.n.o.b. ”How's the food?” She smiled again, looking back at him. ”Fabulous.”

She was right about the food, Ry discovered. Rack of lamb, fresh asparagus, glossy candied yams, all accompanied by some golden

French wine.

He knew, of course, that Gage Guthrie was dripping with money.

But nothing had prepared him for the Gothic mansion of a house, with its towers and turrets and terraces. The next thing to a castle, Ry had thought when he viewed it from the outside.

Inside, it was home, rich and elaborate, certainly, but warm.

Deborah had given him a partial tour down winding corridors, up curving steps, before they all settled into the enormous dining room with its ox-roasting stone fireplace and winking crystal chandeliers.

It might, Ry thought, have had the flavor of a museum, if not for the people in it.

He'd clicked with Deborah instantly. He'd heard she was a tough and tenacious prosecutor. She had a softer, more vulnerable look than her sister, but she had a reputation for being formidable in court.

It was obvious her husband adored her. There were little signs- the quick, shared looks, the touch of a hand.

It was very much the same between Boyd and Cilia. Ry calculated that they'd been together for a decade or so, but the spark was still very much in evidence.

And the kids were great. He'd always had a soft spot for children.

He recognized and was touched by Allison's preadolescent crush, and obliged her by going over the highlights of the game.

Since Cilia had wisely seen to it that her oldest son was across the table and two chairs down from his sister, Bryant was free to badger Deborah about how many bad guys she'd locked up since last he'd seen her.

And dinner was a relatively peaceful affair.

”Do you ride in a fire truck?” Keenan wanted to know.

”I used to,” Ry told him.

”How come you stopped?”

”I told you,” Bryant said, rolling his eyes with the disdain only a sibling knows and understands. ”He goes after bad guys now, like Dad. Only just bad guys who burn things down. Don't you?''

”That's right.”

”I'd rather ride in a fire truck.” In a canny move to avoid the asparagus on his plate, Keenan slipped out of his chair and into Ry's lap.

”Keenan,” Cilia said. ”Ry's trying to eat.”

”He's okay.” Enjoying himself, Ry s.h.i.+fted the boy onto his knee.

”Did you ever ride in one?”

”Nuh-uh.” He smiled winningly, using his big, soft eyes. ”Can

I?”

”If your mom and dad say it's okay, you could come down to the station tomorrow. Take a look around.”