Read Online Tell Me a Story by Dallas Schulze - Free Book Online

about me?"
    "Yes. But that's nothing to worry about. We're just going to decide what to do about finding your mother."
    "You won't call the welfare, will you?"
    "I already told you I wouldn't do that, didn't I? Now, go have some cookies but make sure you save some for me."
    He stood up, ruffling her hair. Becky hesitated a moment longer, looking from Flynn to his mother's outstretched hand, and then she moved forward and tentatively placed her small fingers in Louise's palm.
    "Are they chocolate chip cookies?"
    "I don't know. Why don't we go see?" Ann watched Louise lead the little girl from the room and swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. No matter what else he was, there was no denying that Flynn was very good with Becky. He showed an understanding of her fears and uncertainties Ann had to admit she couldn't have matched herself.
    The door shut behind Louise and Becky and silence descended. At first it wasn't uncomfortable. Ann had never felt that every second had to be filled with talk. She looked around the room, admiring the walls of books, most of them leather bound. One shelf held trophies, another—family photographs. It was a warm room, full of leather and wood. There was a huge bowl of flowers on a table near the door, and the brilliant colors were a perfect accent to the muted tones of the room.
    Having looked at the room, she began to notice how the silence had lengthened. She looked at Flynn, who sat in a chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His expression was brooding, his attention all for the toes of his sneakers.
    His father sat in a chair not far away, but Flynn might not have been there for all the attention the man paid him. He was staring out the window, his face set in bitter lines, his stocky body held rigidly upright against the soft leather of the chair.
    Since no one seemed interested in speaking, she moved over to the photos, studying them with an interest that surprised her. It wasn't hard to identify the family members. A younger Louise, her expression as warm as it was now. Her husband, his face a little less stern, his eyes softer. There was a stocky young man who showed up in most of the photos, which must've been Mark. She examined his face, liking the warmth and humor that lit his eyes. There seemed to be a vague melancholy in his eyes, but that could have been her imagination.
    And there was Flynn. His lean body lanky with youth and then gradually filling out but retaining that graceful look that was so much a part of his attraction today.
    She looked at the photos again, a little uneasy with what she was seeing. There were numerous photos of Mark as football captain in his uniform, at the beach and in almost every other setting. Flynn was in some of the pictures, sometimes in the background, sometimes with his arm over his older brother's shoulder. But there were no photos of Flynn alone. The realization sank in gradually and Ann turned away from the pictures, not wanting to think about the implications of what she was seeing. She didn't want to feel sympathy for Flynn McCallister. He was dangerous enough without adding that emotional complication.
    The silence had stretched out behind her, making an almost visible presence in the big room. She cleared her throat.
    "You have a lovely home, Mr. McCallister. Flynn tells me he grew up here."
    His eyes snapped to her, dark and fierce. "He and his brother Mark both grew up here. Did he mention his brother?"
    Ann glanced at Flynn, but he didn't shift his eyes from his shoes. She was on her own. "Flynn told me that his brother died three years ago. That must have been a terrible time for all of you."
    "My son Mark was a wonderful boy. He was a police officer. Did Flynn tell you that? Died in the line of duty."
    "I didn't know that. You must have been very proud of him."
    "I was." He glanced at Flynn without speaking, and his son's eyes came up to meet his. From where Ann sat, there was absolutely no readable expression in