Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele
Part 3: House of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reckoning
Wednesday, December 14, 1988 -- 37 weeks, 6 days
Remington shed the sweater and jeans he’d thrown on to take Siobhán to school and dove back under
the covers. Laura hardly stirred. She’d refused to admit any such thing, but the rest had been good for
her. Some of the stress lines had cleared from her face, and her appetite had returned.
With Dr. Berger’s blessing, he planned to take her to lunch and then to the agency for precisely two
hours. He needed her input on several matters, and having to pick up Siobhán from school provided a
convenient time limitation he knew Laura would honor.
Unconsciously, she shifted so they touched from shoulder to knee, his front to her back. She tucked her
feet between his calves and covered his hand where it rested on her belly with her own.
Thirty-six minutes into his deeply contented sleep, the phone rang. Mildred apologized profusely, but he
waved her off, eager to get her off the line.
“Boss, there’s a lady here I think both of you need to see.”
“See? As in dress professionally and arrive at the office in under twenty minutes?”
“It’s Penny’s mother.”
“Penny who?” He rubbed his face to clear the cobwebs.
“Miss Descoine? Your stalker? Her mother is here and wants to visit with both of you.”
“Penny has a mother?”
“Last time I checked, we all have one, Chief.”
“Ah, stall her. Make tea. We’ll be there.”
Laura had opened her eyes at the name. “Is everything all right?”
He took her hand and pulled her upright and out of bed. “We need to be at the agency. Apparently,
Penny’s mother is there and wants to have a chat with us.”
Dumbfounded, Laura only stared at him.
“Be dazzled by your reprieve later, love, for now you’re needed at the office.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. In twelve minutes flat, she was impatiently tapping her foot for him to
fasten his cufflinks. The tie would have to wait for a stoplight along the way.
Mildred sat on the sofa in his office with an older woman who bore traces of beauty some years before.
Signs of a hard life had taken their toll, and Remington inexplicably found himself regretting whatever
burden she carried.
Smiling up at the couple as they entered, Mildred introduced the woman to the detectives.
“Mr. Steele, Mrs. Steele--I’d like you to meet Margaret Townsend.”
“Mrs. Townsend, I understand you’re Penny’s mother,” he said politely as he shook her hand and then
released it to assist Laura into her chair.
The woman pushed back thinning brown hair and sighed. “Yes. I’d come to warn you about Penny’s
obsession with you two, but Ms. Krebs has been explaining the situation to me. I’m sorry you haven’t
been able to locate Penny. She goes by Penny Townsend. She still lives with me--or at least, that’s
where she’s supposed to live.”
Laura tilted her head. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“Her father’s house.”
Remington shook his head. “We’ve had it under surveillance, and I checked it personally--it was quite
empty.”
Margaret gave him a weary look. “Did you check the attic?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, no, actually.”
“My ex-husband completely refitted it so that he could live up there and no one would know. Whenever
Penny wants to hide, that’s where she goes.”
Laura carefully asked, “What is going on here, Mrs. Townsend? Beyond the photos and a single
confrontation with Penny, we have very little information.”
Margaret nodded. “You know her dad. He’s a crook with a flair for drama. He had me dazzled until he
started getting into trouble with his bosses. I divorced him after he began having an affair with that Lily
from the bank. Unfortunately, he went to prison when Penny was only eleven. She thought the world
of him and didn’t realize what he did was terribly wrong. She was sixteen when he set his sights on you,
and she wanted desperately to impress him. So she did whatever he asked.” Margaret shook her head
sadly. “If that wasn’t proof of his insanity--asking a teenager to kill.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “I thought I’d gotten through to her. We’ve been in therapy for years,
and I won a court order prohibiting her from having any contact with her father until she turned twenty-
one.” Wistfully, she added, “She’d started taking classes at the community college and making plans for
the future. She wanted to be a nurse.”
Remington gently prompted, “What happened?”
“The Major contacted her on her birthday and told her he missed her. She went to see him the next
day. Since then they’ve been practically inseparable. In just a few short months, he’s undone years of
progress with her.”
A tear spilled out of her eye, rolling down her cheek. “I had a daughter I loved. Now she’s obsessed
with impressing her father. To do that, she has to kill the two of you. But she doesn’t realize that it will
never stop. If it’s not you, it will be someone or something else. He’ll just use her from prison until she
gets killed just like that poor Lily. Lily wasn’t a bad girl. When she realized how she’d been used, she
couldn’t live with herself.”
Laura nodded. “I remember her, and I agree. We don’t want that for Penny either.”
Margaret pleaded, “Stop her, Mrs. Steele. Find her. I’ll get her treatment even if it means having her
committed. I don’t want her going to jail.”
“Can you do that with her being of age?” Remington asked.
“I’m still her guardian. The psychiatrist won’t release her into her own care until she’s mentally stable.
My attorney and her doctor helped me to set it up that way.”
Remington and Laura exchanged a long look. In silent communication, they held a short debate that
ended in a draw. He turned to Penny’s mother. “We’ll help you find her, but we have to involve the
police on this one. I’m sorry, but I must think of Mrs. Steele’s safety in this.”
The woman nodded. “I understand. You said she hasn’t really done anything yet, right?”
His jaw tightened. “Legally, that is correct.”
“Then it won’t matter if the police are involved.” She rose. “I’ve given Ms. Krebs my information, and--
and I’ll pay you for finding my daughter. I should do that.” She gave them each a short nod as she
clutched her purse. With one last sad look, she walked away, leaving the trio.
Remington closed the door behind her and returned to his seat. “How in the bloody hell did we go from
tracking down a known stalker to keeping her from killing us to getting paid to find her?”
Mildred shrugged and turned her hands up. “I don’t know, Boss.”
“I’ll call John. I want to put this to rest as soon as possible.” He stood, then raised his eyebrows when
Laura visibly winced.
“Laura?”
She stood, frowning. “That call might have to wait, Rei.”
Mildred’s face broke into smiles. “Are you in labor, Mrs. Steele?”
Laura winced again. “I think I am.”
Well after eight that evening, Remington drove Laura and Siobhan home from dinner, relieved but
vaguely disappointed that their child had decided it wasn’t time to make an appearance yet.
She’d contracted for nearly three hours; then, inexplicably, the spasms had stopped. While the hospital
staff had kept Laura under observation for the rest of the afternoon, Mildred brought Siobhán from
school and stayed. Her calm demeanor kept Siobhán and Remington settled by turns.
Dr. Berger had seemed pleased as she preferred to wait a few more days. “Tomorrow makes thirty-eight
weeks,” she told them. “We’re certainly in the safety zone, but every day gives the baby time to grow
stronger. Stay on your toes. You’ll have another child any day now.” Siobhán had smiled at that
remark.
Laura’s irritation had increased throughout the afternoon, compounded by missing lunch--which hadn’t
seemed to be an issue when she expected to deliver a child. At last, the hospital released her, and the
four of them headed for dinner.
Late that evening, long after Siobhán had gone on to bed, Remington stretched across the bed, watching
Laura move about the room. He swirled his wine in his glass before sipping it.
“Disappointed?” he asked.
“Some,” she said, sitting next to him and stealing a tiny drink from his goblet. “I guess it’s time to put
the suitcase and the baby bag in the car. Are you ready?”
He chuckled. “Ah, Laura. At times I think I’m ready for anything. Then, after days such as the past
three, I wonder how I’ll manage the rest of the week.”
Laura tried not to ask. She started to speak, stopped, and curiosity got the best of her. “What
happened?”
Remington drew his hand along a lock of her hair before retrieving his glass from her hand. “I’ve
discovered I have an allergy to management that very nearly surpasses my allergy to legwork. It’s one
thing to make executive decisions to irritate you or that are needed in a pinch. It’s another entirely when
I have time to deliberate and worry.”
“You’re saying that to make me feel better,” she accused with a smile.
He looked into the dark swirl of his wine. “No. You’ve a gift for such things, Laura.”
She toyed with the curl of his hair over his collar. “All right, if you’re saying that to make me feel better,
it’s working.”
He flicked his eyebrows at her. “I’d planned to take you to lunch today and have you look over a few
things at the agency before picking up Siobhán from school. Would you be interested in joining me
tomorrow?”
Laura’s good mood vanished. “Am I allowed?”
Remington swore lightly. “Why are you putting me in the position of being your bloody keeper, Laura?
If you’d be sensible about caring for yourself, I’d not have to be a buggering prick about all this.” He
drank deeply of his wine, finishing it, and then leaned over to set it on the bedside table.
When he rolled to his side again, Laura’s eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t like being
told what I can and can’t do. I took my frustrations out on you. I--I seem to do that a great deal.”
He grinned. “It’s a cornerstone of our relationship.”
“But this time I went overboard,” she muttered apologetically.
He stroked her hair again. “This time, I’m just as nervous as you. I don’t like feeling entirely
responsible for the agency for even a few days. I work much better with my partner. But whether I
prefer it or not, I have to manage on my own for the next few weeks.”
Laura tilted her head. “It’s not the baby making you worry? It’s the agency?”
He fumbled for her hand and kissed the palm, making her fingertips curl. Her face flushed as the
sensation obviously titillated her senses. “I’ve you at home for the tyke,” he said simply. Then he
leaned up for a heated kiss.
12 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dancing
Wednesday, December 14, 1988 -- 37 weeks, 6 days
Remington shed the sweater and jeans he’d thrown on to take Siobhán to school and dove back under
the covers. Laura hardly stirred. She’d refused to admit any such thing, but the rest had been good for
her. Some of the stress lines had cleared from her face, and her appetite had returned.
With Dr. Berger’s blessing, he planned to take her to lunch and then to the agency for precisely two
hours. He needed her input on several matters, and having to pick up Siobhán from school provided a
convenient time limitation he knew Laura would honor.
Unconsciously, she shifted so they touched from shoulder to knee, his front to her back. She tucked her
feet between his calves and covered his hand where it rested on her belly with her own.
Thirty-six minutes into his deeply contented sleep, the phone rang. Mildred apologized profusely, but he
waved her off, eager to get her off the line.
“Boss, there’s a lady here I think both of you need to see.”
“See? As in dress professionally and arrive at the office in under twenty minutes?”
“It’s Penny’s mother.”
“Penny who?” He rubbed his face to clear the cobwebs.
“Miss Descoine? Your stalker? Her mother is here and wants to visit with both of you.”
“Penny has a mother?”
“Last time I checked, we all have one, Chief.”
“Ah, stall her. Make tea. We’ll be there.”
Laura had opened her eyes at the name. “Is everything all right?”
He took her hand and pulled her upright and out of bed. “We need to be at the agency. Apparently,
Penny’s mother is there and wants to have a chat with us.”
Dumbfounded, Laura only stared at him.
“Be dazzled by your reprieve later, love, for now you’re needed at the office.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. In twelve minutes flat, she was impatiently tapping her foot for him to
fasten his cufflinks. The tie would have to wait for a stoplight along the way.
Mildred sat on the sofa in his office with an older woman who bore traces of beauty some years before.
Signs of a hard life had taken their toll, and Remington inexplicably found himself regretting whatever
burden she carried.
Smiling up at the couple as they entered, Mildred introduced the woman to the detectives.
“Mr. Steele, Mrs. Steele--I’d like you to meet Margaret Townsend.”
“Mrs. Townsend, I understand you’re Penny’s mother,” he said politely as he shook her hand and then
released it to assist Laura into her chair.
The woman pushed back thinning brown hair and sighed. “Yes. I’d come to warn you about Penny’s
obsession with you two, but Ms. Krebs has been explaining the situation to me. I’m sorry you haven’t
been able to locate Penny. She goes by Penny Townsend. She still lives with me--or at least, that’s
where she’s supposed to live.”
Laura tilted her head. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“Her father’s house.”
Remington shook his head. “We’ve had it under surveillance, and I checked it personally--it was quite
empty.”
Margaret gave him a weary look. “Did you check the attic?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, no, actually.”
“My ex-husband completely refitted it so that he could live up there and no one would know. Whenever
Penny wants to hide, that’s where she goes.”
Laura carefully asked, “What is going on here, Mrs. Townsend? Beyond the photos and a single
confrontation with Penny, we have very little information.”
Margaret nodded. “You know her dad. He’s a crook with a flair for drama. He had me dazzled until he
started getting into trouble with his bosses. I divorced him after he began having an affair with that Lily
from the bank. Unfortunately, he went to prison when Penny was only eleven. She thought the world
of him and didn’t realize what he did was terribly wrong. She was sixteen when he set his sights on you,
and she wanted desperately to impress him. So she did whatever he asked.” Margaret shook her head
sadly. “If that wasn’t proof of his insanity--asking a teenager to kill.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “I thought I’d gotten through to her. We’ve been in therapy for years,
and I won a court order prohibiting her from having any contact with her father until she turned twenty-
one.” Wistfully, she added, “She’d started taking classes at the community college and making plans for
the future. She wanted to be a nurse.”
Remington gently prompted, “What happened?”
“The Major contacted her on her birthday and told her he missed her. She went to see him the next
day. Since then they’ve been practically inseparable. In just a few short months, he’s undone years of
progress with her.”
A tear spilled out of her eye, rolling down her cheek. “I had a daughter I loved. Now she’s obsessed
with impressing her father. To do that, she has to kill the two of you. But she doesn’t realize that it will
never stop. If it’s not you, it will be someone or something else. He’ll just use her from prison until she
gets killed just like that poor Lily. Lily wasn’t a bad girl. When she realized how she’d been used, she
couldn’t live with herself.”
Laura nodded. “I remember her, and I agree. We don’t want that for Penny either.”
Margaret pleaded, “Stop her, Mrs. Steele. Find her. I’ll get her treatment even if it means having her
committed. I don’t want her going to jail.”
“Can you do that with her being of age?” Remington asked.
“I’m still her guardian. The psychiatrist won’t release her into her own care until she’s mentally stable.
My attorney and her doctor helped me to set it up that way.”
Remington and Laura exchanged a long look. In silent communication, they held a short debate that
ended in a draw. He turned to Penny’s mother. “We’ll help you find her, but we have to involve the
police on this one. I’m sorry, but I must think of Mrs. Steele’s safety in this.”
The woman nodded. “I understand. You said she hasn’t really done anything yet, right?”
His jaw tightened. “Legally, that is correct.”
“Then it won’t matter if the police are involved.” She rose. “I’ve given Ms. Krebs my information, and--
and I’ll pay you for finding my daughter. I should do that.” She gave them each a short nod as she
clutched her purse. With one last sad look, she walked away, leaving the trio.
Remington closed the door behind her and returned to his seat. “How in the bloody hell did we go from
tracking down a known stalker to keeping her from killing us to getting paid to find her?”
Mildred shrugged and turned her hands up. “I don’t know, Boss.”
“I’ll call John. I want to put this to rest as soon as possible.” He stood, then raised his eyebrows when
Laura visibly winced.
“Laura?”
She stood, frowning. “That call might have to wait, Rei.”
Mildred’s face broke into smiles. “Are you in labor, Mrs. Steele?”
Laura winced again. “I think I am.”
Well after eight that evening, Remington drove Laura and Siobhan home from dinner, relieved but
vaguely disappointed that their child had decided it wasn’t time to make an appearance yet.
She’d contracted for nearly three hours; then, inexplicably, the spasms had stopped. While the hospital
staff had kept Laura under observation for the rest of the afternoon, Mildred brought Siobhán from
school and stayed. Her calm demeanor kept Siobhán and Remington settled by turns.
Dr. Berger had seemed pleased as she preferred to wait a few more days. “Tomorrow makes thirty-eight
weeks,” she told them. “We’re certainly in the safety zone, but every day gives the baby time to grow
stronger. Stay on your toes. You’ll have another child any day now.” Siobhán had smiled at that
remark.
Laura’s irritation had increased throughout the afternoon, compounded by missing lunch--which hadn’t
seemed to be an issue when she expected to deliver a child. At last, the hospital released her, and the
four of them headed for dinner.
Late that evening, long after Siobhán had gone on to bed, Remington stretched across the bed, watching
Laura move about the room. He swirled his wine in his glass before sipping it.
“Disappointed?” he asked.
“Some,” she said, sitting next to him and stealing a tiny drink from his goblet. “I guess it’s time to put
the suitcase and the baby bag in the car. Are you ready?”
He chuckled. “Ah, Laura. At times I think I’m ready for anything. Then, after days such as the past
three, I wonder how I’ll manage the rest of the week.”
Laura tried not to ask. She started to speak, stopped, and curiosity got the best of her. “What
happened?”
Remington drew his hand along a lock of her hair before retrieving his glass from her hand. “I’ve
discovered I have an allergy to management that very nearly surpasses my allergy to legwork. It’s one
thing to make executive decisions to irritate you or that are needed in a pinch. It’s another entirely when
I have time to deliberate and worry.”
“You’re saying that to make me feel better,” she accused with a smile.
He looked into the dark swirl of his wine. “No. You’ve a gift for such things, Laura.”
She toyed with the curl of his hair over his collar. “All right, if you’re saying that to make me feel better,
it’s working.”
He flicked his eyebrows at her. “I’d planned to take you to lunch today and have you look over a few
things at the agency before picking up Siobhán from school. Would you be interested in joining me
tomorrow?”
Laura’s good mood vanished. “Am I allowed?”
Remington swore lightly. “Why are you putting me in the position of being your bloody keeper, Laura?
If you’d be sensible about caring for yourself, I’d not have to be a buggering prick about all this.” He
drank deeply of his wine, finishing it, and then leaned over to set it on the bedside table.
When he rolled to his side again, Laura’s eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t like being
told what I can and can’t do. I took my frustrations out on you. I--I seem to do that a great deal.”
He grinned. “It’s a cornerstone of our relationship.”
“But this time I went overboard,” she muttered apologetically.
He stroked her hair again. “This time, I’m just as nervous as you. I don’t like feeling entirely
responsible for the agency for even a few days. I work much better with my partner. But whether I
prefer it or not, I have to manage on my own for the next few weeks.”
Laura tilted her head. “It’s not the baby making you worry? It’s the agency?”
He fumbled for her hand and kissed the palm, making her fingertips curl. Her face flushed as the
sensation obviously titillated her senses. “I’ve you at home for the tyke,” he said simply. Then he
leaned up for a heated kiss.
12 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dancing