Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(38)

The whole time Rick was staying with the Lones, Livia had been thinking about Portland and Nason. And trying to weigh the risks of asking for his help. It felt dangerous, and she knew Mr. Lone would be furious if he found out. But in the end, she decided she had to try.

She went to the kitchen. Rick was sitting at the table, sipping coffee from a mug stamped “Llewellyn Lions”—the name of the high school football team—and reading the newspaper. He smiled when he saw her and put down the paper.

“Livia—I thought you went with them to brunch. Sleeping late?”

“Studying.”

“You’re a hard worker.”

She nodded.

“But don’t you ever . . .”

She waited for him to go on, but it seemed he had thought better of it. He poured some coffee from a carafe into the mug. “You want some?”

She was surprised. “Coffee? I never had it. Have never had it.”

“How old are you?”

She was going to say thirteen, but then changed her mind. “Almost fourteen.”

“Well, I’d say that’s old enough for just a taste. Though you might not want to mention it to my sister.” He smiled. “Unless you want to get me in trouble.”

Livia couldn’t help smiling back. “No, I won’t tell her.”

“Okay, then.” He walked over to the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk, then pulled a box from a cabinet. “Turbinado sugar. That’s good. A little molasses tastes great in coffee. I generally drink mine black, but for your first time, milk and sugar’s a good idea.”

He took another mug from a cabinet, poured some coffee in along with a big serving of milk, added two spoonfuls of sugar, stirred it all together, and gave the mug to Livia. She smelled it suspiciously, then took a little sip—and then a bigger one. It was delicious. She’d never tasted anything like it.

He must have seen her expression, because he smiled and said, “Not bad, huh?”

She nodded, happy to have discovered something so tasty, and liking that it was a secret from Mrs. Lone. “It’s really good.”

“Well, you can’t drink too much of it. You’re not grown yet, and caffeine can make you jittery. But a little won’t hurt you. Just remember, you didn’t get it from me.”

“Okay.” She took another sip, then said, “What were you going to ask before?”

“When?”

“You said, ‘But don’t you ever . . . ’”

“Oh, that. I don’t know. Something about school, I guess. But you know what? I don’t even remember much about school. I actually hated it.”

She cocked her head, suddenly intrigued at what felt like a confidence. “Why?”

“Ah, it’s a long story. I just never felt like I fit in. I was glad when it was over. I’m better at being a cop than I was at being a student.”

Livia glanced around. “You . . . didn’t want to go to breakfast?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “I begged off. It’s great to see everyone, but sometimes I need a little space. You know?”

“Yes.”

“And tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, so it’s going to be the big church thing. Does Fred make you go to church?”

“Yes.” She didn’t like talking about Mr. Lone.

“Yeah, I figured. Well, I’m not really the churchgoing type. To each his own, I guess.”

She looked at him, desperate to ask, but also afraid. She sensed she was crossing lines she couldn’t clearly see.

A strange expression settled into his face—compassion, but also something . . . concerned.

“How’s everything going, Livia?”

Somehow, she could tell he didn’t mean it in the usual polite, surface way. That he was really asking. Really wanted to know. Maybe even really . . . cared?

She bit her lip. She so wanted to ask him.

“What is it?” he said. “Honey, if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

No, she thought. I can’t tell anyone. Ever.

But she could ask him. She had to.

“My sister,” she said. “Nason.” From no more than saying Nason’s name, the tears welled up. She wiped them violently away, furious at herself for crying.

“I heard about your sister, hon,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. “No one knows where she is. What happened to her. Even if—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. But she didn’t need to. He nodded, waiting for her to go on. She could tell that Mr. Lone had told him nothing. But did that mean Mr. Lone knew nothing?

She cleared her throat. “All anyone knows, I think, is Portland is where we were separated. Portland is where she disappeared.”

He nodded. “PPB knows about it. And I talked to all my contacts so they would understand it’s personal, too. You know, my beat is homicide, but there are cops who specialize in child matters, that kind of thing. I made sure they’re all looking for your sister.”

She was stunned. “You . . . you did that?”

“Jesus, of course I did, Livia.”

She started crying again. She couldn’t help it. She’d gotten so good at hardening herself against cruelty, she hadn’t been prepared for his kindness.