Page 86 of Honor ’N’ Duty

Cecelia walked slowly enough for Kade and Jamie to identify and catalogue as much information as possible.

There was a wedding photo of a younger Cecelia and her late husband. Family photos, including those of Fernando Colon as a boy with her other children, a younger son and daughter. Kade stared alternately at two photos in particular. A New Jersey State Police sergeant receiving a medal of honor. The next image was of the same man posing with a young boy—Fernando Colon.

“My husband, Miguel.” Cecelia said, stopping to look at the photo. There was no hiding the pain in her voice.

“He was a legend in the state police,” Kade said. He’d read that the man’s UC exploits had been responsible for more narco busts than any other undercover in that agency.

“He’s still a legend.” Cecelia placed her hand over her heart. “Here. Always.” She smiled, but there was an undeniable aura of sadness and loss in her expression. “Life didn’t turn out the way either of us expected.”

Join the club.

In that moment, Kade understood what she was silently telling him. Never in a million years would she or her husband have dreamed that their son would turn into a vicious criminal.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his own heart aching for his brother and for the pain and suffering Laia had experienced and was still going through, not knowing whether she’d ever see Rosa again. “It’s never easy to lose those we love.”

Cecelia cocked her head. Gray eyes pinned him. “Spoken as if you, too, have experienced great loss.”

“I have,” he admitted, doing his best not to think about the additional losses that could very well be in his future.

Jamie sniffed. “Is that homemade marinara I smell?”

“Yes.” Cecelia’s face brightened. “Come. Have early supper with me. The pasta should be ready by now.”

Jamie flashed the woman his trademark killer smile, one Kade hadn’t seen since Jamie had returned from wherever he’d been for the last six months. “We’d be honored.”

In truth, Kade was starving, but food was the last thing he wanted. Time was of the essence. Even though he knew who’d kidnapped Rosa, every hour that passed would make it more difficult to find her.

They followed her into the kitchen.

“Sit.” She pointed to an old, scratched wood table in the corner.

When he and Jamie were seated, Kade tapped the fingers of one hand on his thigh. Getting straight to the point was more his style, but he understood that both he and Jamie had just established a fragile rapport with the woman who, Kade recalled from investigative reports, was actually of Italian descent, not Hispanic. Hospitality and food were at the core of her culture.

“My mother still makes homemade gravy for me every time I visit her.” Jamie patted his stomach. “But it’s been a while, and I’m looking forward to a good meal.”

Over her shoulder, Cecelia smiled, then turned back to strain the pasta. She began dishing up plates of spaghetti piled high with “gravy,” as Jamie had called it, and topped with sausage, meatballs, and some kind of rolled meat Kade couldn’t identify.

“Ah, braciola.” Again, Jamie flashed that grin he’d used to warm the hearts of women for as long as Kade had known him. “I haven’t had good braciola since the last time I was home.”

Man, Jamie was laying it on thick, but clearly, Cecelia was enjoying the praise. Getting—and keeping—her on their good side was all that mattered.

She put the plates on the table, followed by garlic bread and salad. Kade forced down the food and after ten minutes of eating was stuffed to the gills.

“That was delicious, Mrs. Colon. Thank you.” Kade set down his fork. Interrogating the woman was what he should do, but she needed to be handled gently and with due deference to who she was.

A dead cop’s wife. A family member of the thin blue line.

“Awesome, Mrs. C.” Jamie grabbed another bite of garlic bread and bit into it.

Along with his driving skills, Jamie was known for having the innate ability to gain peoples’ trust. That’s what made him such a good undercover, which, Kade suspected, was what he’d been doing while he’d been MIA.

“Thank you. Call me Cecelia,” she added, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, then setting the napkin back on her lap. “Now, what is it that you think I can do to help you?”

Finally.

“What I’m going to tell you won’t be easy to hear,” Kade began.

“Son.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “I was married to a man who arrested criminals for a living. Criminals like my son. I will love Fernando until the day they bury me, but don’t ever think that I don’t know exactly who and what he is. It’s highly unlikely you could say anything that would shock me.”