They finally reached Margaret’s house and got out of the car. Edge held his hand out for the keys, and she set them in his palm. “Cool car,” she said.
“Glad you enjoyed the drive. ’Course my heart stopped beating at least three times on the way out here.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Are you kidding me? I remember the way you drove in Mexico. Talk about heart-stopping.”
Unrepentant, Edge grinned. “When in Rome . . . or, in that case, Mexico . . .”
Skye shook her head but couldn’t hide an answering smile. The man could be charming when he wanted, which wasn’t all that often. Edge was too serious by far. On the other hand, since she’d returned from Afghanistan, so was she.
A big shade tree cooled the front walk as they made their way up the steps to the front porch, where Skye knocked on the door.
Margaret Delaney, a tall, thin woman in her fifties with short blond hair, pulled it open. She had once been beautiful, but the years were catching up with her, forming lines around her mouth and beside her brown eyes. Skye thought the problems with her daughter were aging her even more.
“Thank you for coming.” Margaret leaned over and hugged her. “Come on in.”
Skye led Edge into a living room with hardwood floors and beige drapes at the windows. An overstuffed sofa and chairs sat in front of a red-brick fireplace with a white mantel. The house was modestly furnished, but extremely neat and clean.
Skye turned to her stepmother. “Margaret, this is Edge Logan. He works with me at Nighthawk.”
Edge made a curt nod of his head. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Delaney.”
“It’s just Margaret.” She smiled at him, her narrow face flushing with color. Young or old, women couldn’t resist Edge Logan. “You’re also a detective?”
“On occasion. Mostly I work personal protection.”
“So you’re a bodyguard?”
“Depends on the situation.”
“Edge was head of the security team I accompanied to Mexico,” Skye said.
Margaret smiled. “Nice to meet you. Skye, would you and Edge like a cup of coffee?”
Skye nodded. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Just black for both of us,” Edge answered as they sat down on the sofa. They were former military. Black coffee was a no-brainer.
Skye didn’t really need more caffeine. She’d had plenty that morning. But working as a private detective, she’d learned that letting a person do something useful helped put them at ease.
Margaret had been “the other woman” who had wrecked Skye’s parents’ marriage. Even after twenty years, she and Margaret weren’t close. But aside from her dad, who had basically abandoned Connor and Skye, family was important to the Delaneys.
Margaret returned with three mugs on a tray she set down on the coffee table. Skye and Edge each picked up a mug.
“Why don’t you tell us the circumstances that led to Callie’s involvement with Reverend Henson,” Skye suggested.
Margaret seated herself in the chair and took a sip of coffee. “I’m not really sure. I know Callie met him at the Hummingbird Café, where she was working. He was staying in Denver for some sort of church event. He came in for breakfast every day while he was in town, and apparently Callie was impressed.”
Edge walked over and picked up a framed photo sitting on the mantel. “Is this a picture of Callie?”
Margaret nodded. “That was taken right before her high school graduation. She was so excited. Then two years later, her dad was killed, and Callie was devastated. She’s never really gotten over it.”
“Beautiful girl.” Edge’s blue gaze went to Skye. “She’s blond, but aside from that, she looks a little like you.”
Skye absorbed the backhanded compliment. It shouldn’t have felt important, but somehow it did.
Her thoughts returned to Callie. After her dad married Margaret, his attention had focused on his new family. Skye and Conner slowly fell off his radar. Their mother eventually remarried and moved them to a new town, which brought Skye and Conn closer, but distanced them from their father even more.
