IN SEARCH OF DREAMS Read online

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

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  Chapter 1

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  "Quit! Whadda you mean? You can't quit!" Charlie Van Horn bellowed.

  The bellicose editor-in-chief of the Houston Herald stuck out his chin and glared at his top reporter across the cluttered surface of his desk. The beady-eyed look and pugnacious set of his jaw would have reduced any other person on his staff to a stammering wreck.

  J.T. Conway grinned.

  "Sure I can, Charlie. This is a newspaper, not a prison." Sitting slouched on his spine with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, J.T. gazed back at his boss with a devilish twinkle in his blue eyes, the picture of unruffled male confidence.

  The veins in Charlie's neck bulged, and his face turned an alarming shade of purple. Pressing all ten fingertips to the desktop, he levered his stocky body out of the chair and leaned forward. The threatening stance merely widened J.T.'s grin.

  "Now you listen to me, Conway, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I don't have time for it. Now get back to work. I've got a paper to run."

  "This is no game, Charlie." J.T. withdrew an envelope from the inside pocket of his suitcoat, leaned forward and tossed it onto Charlie's desk. "That's my formal resignation. It's effective in two weeks."

  Without bothering to open the envelope, Charlie tore it in two and tossed the halves over his shoulder in the general direction of the overflowing wastebasket.

  "Nice shot," J.T. drawled as the pieces hit the top of the pile and slid to the floor. "But I still quit."

  Charlie spat out a string of curses that turned the air blue. When that failed to faze J.T., he plopped back down into his chair, plucked a half-chewed cigar from the ashtray and stuck it in his mouth. "All right. What's this about?" he growled. "Is this a bluff to get more money? Hell, man, you're already the highest-paid reporter in Houston. Not to mention your generous expense account."

  "This isn't about money."

  Leaning back in his chair, Charlie laced his ink-stained fingers together over his belly and rolled the foul-smelling stogie from one side of his mouth to the other. He never lit the disgusting things anymore. At his wife's insistence, he'd quit smoking a year ago. She would skin him alive if he started again.

  However, whenever Clarice wasn't around he always had an unlit cigar stuck in his mouth like a nasty, brown pacifier.

  "Then what is it you want? More vacation? A bigger picture with your column? A fancier car? A bigger desk? What?" Before J.T. could answer, an arrested look came over Charlie's face. "Aw, hell, don't tell me this is another push to get your own office. How many times do I have to tell you, the other reporters would set up a howl if I okayed that. No. No way. Forget it, Conway. It ain't gonna happen."

  "Charlie, you aren't listening. I'm not putting the squeeze on you for anything. I'm resigning. Period. That's it."

  Charlie stared at him. Slowly his anger faded into shock. His flabbergasted expression was so comical J.T.'s grin returned.

  "You're really serious," the older man said in an incredulous voice, sagging back in his chair as though he'd just had the wind knocked out of him.

  "I'm serious."

  "Have you lost your mind? Dammit, man, you've been with this paper for twelve years. You've built a name for yourself in this town. Why in God's name would you throw away a successful career? Are you having a midlife crisis or something?"

  "Maybe." J.T. hesitated, not sure he wanted to explain his reasons. However, from his boss's expression it was apparent that he wasn't going to accept the resignation until he did.

  "I want to write a novel. That's what I've always wanted to do with my life, not be a reporter. When I took this job it was supposed to be temporary, but I got caught in a rut. Anyway, I have enough money put away to live comfortably for a few years, so I decided to give it a shot."

  "Oh, good night, nurse. Not another one," Charlie muttered, rolling his eyes. "I've never met a reporter who didn't think he had the next great American novel in him. I thought you were different. Shoulda known better."

  "Looks like it," J.T. replied with his usual nonchalance, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. Normally he was slow to anger, but Charlie's derision touched off an uncharacteristic spurt of fury that he barely managed to hold in check.

  Charlie slammed his hand down on his desk. "Do you know what the odds are of getting a book published? Particularly a novel? You're living in a dream world."

  "Actually … I have an in. An old friend of mine is a vice president at Hubbard and Rhodes Publishing. He wants to see my manuscript when it's finished. But that's not the only reason I'm leaving. I also want to devote time to finding the rest of my family if I can."

  "Why, for Pete's sake? I'd think after' learning that that hard-nosed cop was your brother the last thing you'd want would be to go looking for another one. Hell, this one may turn out to be even more annoying."

  "Matt's not so bad. Anyway, my missing sibling may be a sister."

  "Humph. That could be worse. I've got four of them. Take it from me, sisters are a real pain in the arse. They're either driving you nuts with all their chatter and giggling and all that feminine clutter, or worrying you to death making eyes at boys. I spent half my twenties checking out the losers that came sniffing around my sisters."

  J.T. grinned, his good humor restored. He had a mental picture of Charlie protecting his sisters like a junkyard dog. They'd probably wanted to kill him for his efforts. "You may be right, but I have to try. If I don't I'll always wonder."

  For most of his life J.T. had known that he was adopted, but it hadn't been until six weeks ago that he had made the startling discovery that he was one of a set of triplets, and that his old nemesis, Matthew Dolan, was actually his brother.

  Until recently Matt had been a detective with the Houston Police Department. He and J.T. had been butting heads for the past twelve years whenever J.T. showed up at a crime scene to get the story.

  Discovering that they were brothers had been a shock to both of them. At first neither he nor Matt had been ready to initiate a search for their missing triplet. Recently, however, J.T. had grown curious.

  "How the devil do you expect to find this person, with nothing to go on except that he or she presumably has the missing third piece of a medallion and was adopted at age two? Talk about your needle in a haystack. It's a waste of time."

  "Not necessarily. As a matter of fact, I already have a lead to check out."

  "Humph. So you're determined to do this, are you?"

  "Yep. I've put it off too long already."

  Charlie rolled his eyes and muttered another curse. "All right, fine. Do what you gotta do. But there's no need for you to quit. Take a leave of absence."

  "I don't—"

  Charlie held up his hands. "Just hear me out. You take all the time you need. Go write your novel. Look for your other sibling. When you're done and you find out you're not Hemingway, then you come back here. Your job will be waiting."

  "Charlie—"

  "No, I don't want to hear it. I'm not going to let you throw away your career on a whim. Just go get all this nonsense out of your system once and for all, then come back here where you belong."

  J.T. was torn between exasperation and gratitude. It touched him that the cantankerous old coot thought enough of him to hold his job open, and it irritated the living hell out of him that he ridiculed his dream.

  He held the older man's gaze for several moments. What if Charlie was right? What if his talent didn't go any deeper than knocking out sensationalized accounts of the news? It was a depressing thought—one he refused to accept.

&
nbsp; J.T. wasn't in any mood to argue, though, and he could see by Charlie's bulldog expression that he wasn't going to back down. Hell, why fight it? He could always resign later.

  "Okay. You've got a deal," J.T. finally said.

  "There is just one condition."

  "Uh-oh, here it comes."

  "Aw, don't get your shorts in a wad. I just want your promise that if you come across a good story you'll call it in, that's all."

  J.T. thought it over. Where he was heading, probably the most exciting thing that ever happened was an elk wandering into town now and then. "Sure. Why not?"

  "Good. That's settled. Now tell me, where're you going?"

  "Oh, no. Forget it. I know you, Charlie. If I tell you, you'll be on the phone to me every day with an assignment, or wanting to know when I'm coming back."

  "So? What if I need you? What if an international crisis happens? What if World War III breaks out? How the hell am I supposed to get in touch with you?"

  "You aren't. Look, if it'll make you feel better, I'll check in now and then, but that's it. Take it or leave it. Either way, in two weeks, I'm outta here."

  * * *

  Cleaning out his desk and parting from his colleagues and friends was difficult, but for J.T. the hardest part of leaving was saying goodbye to Matt and Maude Ann and the kids.

  Which was why he put off doing so until the last minute. When his belongings were in storage, all the last-minute details were handled and his laptop and the clothes he would need were loaded in the back of his Jeep Grand Cherokee, he drove north out of Houston to Lake Livingston.

  J.T. knew that putting distance between himself and Matt at this point sure as hell wasn't going to do much for their relationship. But then, he wondered if anything could.

  Though they were brothers, a wall of reserve existed between him and Matt that neither of them seemed capable of breaching.

  Perhaps it would always be there, J.T. mused. Maybe they had been separated too long to ever come together as brothers. They'd led different lives, had different upbringings, different outlooks. It saddened him to think so, but it was beginning to look as though it was too late for him and Matt to form any close fraternal ties. Certainly they had not gotten closer during the six weeks since they'd learned about their kinship.

  It was a different story with his sister-in-law. He and Maude Ann had hit it off as friends from the moment they met, long before her marriage to Matt three weeks ago. He could talk to Maude Ann, laugh with her, tease her, tell her his hopes and dreams.

  Of course, being a psychiatrist, she was trained to be a good listener and she had a sharp understanding of human nature, but there was more to it than that. He and Maudie were kindred souls. He was going to miss her like the devil. And he was going to miss the kids.

  As he anticipated, Maude Ann was far more upset by his news than his brother. "You're leaving? But why?" she asked in a stricken voice.

  "I finally realized that I was feeling guilty about the compromises I'd made. So now I'm doing something about it."

  "Oh. J.T., don't misunderstand me. I think it's great that you're finally going to do what you've always wanted. Really. And I'm positive you'll be a success. You're a wonderful writer. I just don't understand why you have to leave."

  "There are too many distractions in Houston. It would be too easy to get sidetracked with other things. I need to find someplace quiet where no one knows me so I can concentrate on my writing."

  "You don't have to leave the state, for heaven's sake. You could come here."

  J.T. raised his eyebrows. "Here? Live at the Haven? With you and Matt and the kids?"

  Henley Haven was a foster home for abused and neglected children that Maude Ann had started several years ago. The structure was a former fishing lodge on the northern shore of Lake Livingston that belonged to Lieutenant John Werner, Maude Ann's godfather and Matt's former boss at the HPD.

  In the past year Matt had been shot twice in the line of duty, and the wounds had left him with a limp, ending his career as a police officer. Now he and Maude Ann ran the Haven together.

  "Look, Maudie, I appre—"

  The front door opened to the sound of pitiful wailing. An instant later ten-year-old Yolanda Garcia appeared in the doorway with a bawling Timothy on her hip. "He fell and hurt his elbow," the girl announced shyly.

  Matt rose and limped to where the children stood. "Hey, buddy, let's have a look."

  Even from where he sat J.T. could see that the injury wasn't serious. The skin was red but unbroken, with only a few white scrape marks marring the surface. From Timothy's wails you would have thought he'd received a mortal wound.

  Chin quivering pathetically, the four-year-old looked up at Matt with tear-drenched eyes and stuck out his elbow. "It huuurts real bad, Matt."

  "I'll bet it does," Matt replied gravely.

  Instantly, responding to the gruff empathy, the little boy sniffed and quieted.

  Matt examined the scrape with the same seriousness he would have given a bone-deep cut and moved the arm back and forth to test its mobility. "It doesn't look too bad. Yolanda, why don't you take him in the bathroom and clean his elbow."

  "Sí, Señor Dolan."

  "A little antibacterial spray and a Band-Aid and you'll be fine, buddy." Placing a kiss on the scrape, Matt ruffled the boy's hair, winked at Yolanda and sent them on their way.

  J.T. smiled and shook his head. It still amazed him that his stern brother had settled so easily into marriage and parenthood.

  Matt had been a confirmed bachelor and a dedicated police officer, whose whole life and identity had been wrapped up in his job. Yet, not only had he accepted the loss of his career with surprising grace, at his insistence, he and Maude Ann had begun proceedings to adopt all five of the kids currently assigned to her care immediately after they were married.

  The instant the children disappeared toward the back of the lodge, Maude Ann turned her attention back to their discussion. "Why not stay here? We're out in the country, but it's only a two-hour drive to Houston if you did need to go back. We have the woods and the lake and we're miles from our nearest neighbor. And this lodge has plenty of bedrooms. It's perfect."

  "No offense, Maudie, but with all these kids, this place is anything but peaceful."

  "There are only five children here at the moment," she said with a huff. "Matt and I aren't taking in any more until we learn if the adoptions are going through. Besides, I thought you liked the children?"

  "I do. They're great kids and I love them all, but you have to admit, they're anything but quiet."

  As though to prove his point, at that moment the front door banged open again. This time seven-year-old Tyrone burst into the foyer with Jennifer and Debbie hot on his heels. The last one inside slammed the door shut on the run, and the trio pounded up the stairs with the girls shrieking dire threats at Tyrone if he didn't give "it" back and the boy laughing his head off.

  J.T. gave his sister-in-law a dry look. "I rest my case."

  "I know they can get a bit rambunctious, but if it's quiet you need we can—"

  "Sweetheart, leave the man alone," Matt said, speaking up for the first time. "If J.T. wants to get away, that's his business. This is his decision to make, not ours."

  A wry smile tugged at J.T.'s mouth. He should have known that Matt wouldn't raise any objections. The prickly animosity between them had mellowed somewhat since they'd discovered their kinship, but they were hardly bosom buddies. J.T. suspected that Matt was probably relieved he was leaving.

  "But we're his family. He belongs here with us."

  "Maudie," Matt said in a warning voice.

  "Oh, all right." Maude Ann sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "I know. I'm being selfish." She took both of J.T.'s hands and squeezed them. "But I hate for you to go. I'm going to miss you."

  "I'm going to miss you, too. All of you." They gazed at each other in silence, each aware of what neither wanted to voice. If the adoption of the children failed
to go through, all five of them would probably be moved to another foster home before he returned and they would never see them again.

  "Hey, don't worry," J.T. said gently when Maude Ann's eyes grew suspiciously moist. "I'll keep in touch. I promise."

  "You'd better," she warned. "Because if you don't I'll come get you and haul you back."

  "So, when are you leaving?" Matt asked.

  "Actually, I'm on my way now. I just stopped by to let you know I'm going. And, uh … there is one other thing you should know. I've decided to take a stab at looking for our missing sibling."

  Matt frowned, and J.T. waited for him to object. From the beginning Matt had not been gung-ho about locating their other triplet. Though he was more flexible since Maude Ann had come into his life, he still resisted change and detested any sort of upheaval in his personal life. A legacy, J.T. suspected, from their birth mother deserting them when they were toddlers.

  "If you want to search, that's your decision. But I think you're setting yourself an impossible task. With so few clues and sealed adoption records, where do you even start?"

  "Actually … I already have." J.T. reached inside his shirt and pulled out the jagged piece of a medallion that he wore on a chain around his neck. Matt wore a similar one that fit perfectly with J.T.'s, forming two thirds of a silver disk. The medallion pieces had been given to them by their birth mother. "A few weeks back I posted a notice on an Internet missing-persons bulletin board, asking if anyone knew, or knew of, someone who owned a medallion piece like the ones we have. I also included a drawing of the missing section.

  "I've already received quite a few responses. Some of them were bogus and most of the rest turned out to be nothing, but one seems promising. Here, take a look at this." J.T. pulled a square of paper from his wallet and handed it to Matt. "I downloaded this about three weeks ago."

  Matt unfolded the paper and began to read aloud.

  "The man you are looking for is Zach Mahoney. Your best chance of locating him will be through his sister, Kate Mahoney, who operates a bed-and-breakfast in Gold Fever, Colorado. Zach is a drifter, but he shows up now and then at the B&B.