In a Heartbeat by Rita Herron Page B

the wine in her glass, looking pensive. “I was, but she died a few years back. I still miss her, although it’s been a long time.”
    He dropped his gaze back to his food and tore off another hunk of bread. “It must have been hard losing her.”
    She shrugged. “It was. But I have good memories of her. They’ll last a lifetime.”
    His gaze swung upward, and she read something in his eyes. An apology for making her relive the bad ones earlier.
    She sighed tiredly. All they’d ever done was talk about her. “What about you? Where’s your family?”
    “I don’t have any,” he said simply.
    Lisa swallowed. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
    He dug his fork around his plate, swirling spaghetti between his spoon and fork. “My mother gave me up when I was little.” He shrugged as if the admission didn’t bother him, although the flicker of unease in his eyes warned her that he didn’t intend to continue the discussion.
    “Why didn’t she keep you?” Lisa pressed.
    “Her boyfriend hated having a kid around. He talked with his fists. She did what he wanted.”
    Lisa swallowed, horrified at the thought. “Then who raised you?”
    “Foster homes,” he said in a clipped voice.
    “I…hope they were good to you.” Sensing deep pain hidden inside, Lisa ached to reach out and touch his hand.
    But Brad turned close-lipped, wolfed down the rest of his dinner with a vengeance, then rose and cleared his plate without speaking again. “Thank you, that was great.”
    She’d managed to eat most of her food, she realized as she carried her own plate to the sink.
    “There’s apple pie.” She gestured toward the counter.
    “God, Lisa,” he said in a husky voice, “you’ll spoil me.”
    She wouldn’t mind that, she thought. After all, he looked lost, like a little boy who’d never been spoiled or loved. How could a mother just abandon a child like that? And what about his real father?
    She refrained from asking, though. She hadn’t gotten involved with anyone since William, and she couldn’t start now. Not with someone as hard and cut off as Brad.
    Especially when he was in love with another woman.
    BRAD HAD NO IDEA why he’d confided that tidbit about his past, but now that Lisa knew he’d grown up in the system, he couldn’t quite look at her. He’d see pity, questions, maybe even disdain, just as he had when he was a kid at school and the others had called him a bastard, a homeless child.
    Just as he had when his mother’s boyfriend had beaten him senseless and called him a bad seed. Brad had grown up determined to show them just how bad he could be. And he had been for a while….
    “I’ll clean these up, then we can talk,” Lisa said. “But I’m warning you, Brad, I still don’t remember much about the place William kept me.”
    He nodded, hating to press the topic but it was necessary. Manners insisted he offer to help with the dishes, too, but sharing domestic chores with Lisa gave him an odd feeling. His foster mother had yelled at him when he didn’t do things her way, so he’d learned to hang back, stay out of the way, do what he did best.
    Cause trouble back then.
    Now, it was work.
    So he hit the research again while she cleaned up, biding his time until she was ready to talk.
    He skimmed his list, a total of five criminals who might hold a grudge against him, then analyzed and sorted the data. That was his trademark—compartmentalize. Concentrate on the things he could control. Focus on the case.
    The first three names he checked confirmed that the perps were still in jail. The last two proved to be more worrisome, although he finally discovered that Wendel Mendez had been extradited to Brazil, then sentenced to life in prison.
    Mendez was not the Grave Digger.
    The last name on his list took him longer to locate, but he finally tracked Vrenny Lopez down and learned he had been released on parole four months ago. But he’d been picked up ten days before on a parole violation and was