Graham turned.

Chambers was holding up the telephone, waving it to and fro.

"It's for you," he called out above the din in the room.

"T'hey must have transferred it to my extension by mistake.

It's your son.

He says it's urgent.

Jake thought everything was urgent.

Maybe at seven, everything was.

Graham couldn't remember that far back.

Graham glanced toward Caitlin and saw a look he couldn't quite read in

her eyes.

He shrugged it off.

"I've got to take that. Stay right here-I'll be with you in a couple

of minutes."

He tossed the last part over his shoulder.

"Sure," she murmured.

A son.

He had a son.

And a wife.

Caitlin felt something constrict within her chest before she pushed it

away.

It made no difference to her if he was married or not.

Chapter3.

Taking the receiver from Chambers, Graham turned so that he could still

see Caitlin.

She looked out of place standing in the squad room, like.

a hothouse flower carelessly tossed into the swamp.

Looks were deceiving.

He leaned the receiver against his ear and shoulder.

"Okay, Jake, make this quick, I'm in the middle of something. What's

up?"

He heard a quick intake of breath before his son launched into his tale. "She says I have to make my bed and pick up my toys before I can go to Joey's house."

Annoyance vibrated in the high-pitched voice.

Graham took the receiver into his hand again.

'She'?

he echoed, lowering his voice.

" Who's 'she'?"

There was an audible sigh on the other end.

Graham could almost see the frown materializing on his son's face.

"Grandma."

Graham wasn't aware that he was nodding.

He also didn't see Caitlin edging closer to him, drawn by an

ungovernable curiosity.

"Good, she has a name, right? Grandma," he repeated.

"Use it."

, "Okay."

Jake's controlled tone brought to mind Native Americans of old, sitting

around campfires, working out peace-treaty compromises.

He began to restate his problem.

"Grandma said that I couldn't-" Graham didn't have time to get into a

long-winded story.

Jake had already given him enough of a summary.

"Grandma's got a point."

"Da-a-ad."

Jake drew the name out until it had three syllables.

Graham grinned.

Small for his age, Jake was feisty, ready to argue over any perceived

injustice and just as ready to forgive and love.

Half-Navajo, half-white-like Graham himself -Jake had entered his home when he'd been less than a week old.

And had entered his heart shortly thereafter.

Jake couldn't have been more his if the boy had come from his own

seed.

"Hey, rules are there to follow."

He glanced at Chambers's blotter.

A rap sheet on a two-time loser mingled with a worn program Chambers

had picked up at the last Phoenix Suns game and a candy bar.

The rap sheet had a coffee stain in the corner.

"Wait until she sends you off for a three day fast."

"What?"

Horror was infused into every letter of the word.

Graham laughed.

When he was growing up, his world had been crammed with his mother's mysticism and symbols from the past. So crammed that he had rebelled against it, not knowing what it was he was turning his back on.