He stood by the front door and he was taller than she remembered. Seeing him before he knew he was being observed gave her a chance to notice his nervous anticipation. He held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and moved from foot to foot as if restless. She watched him scour the parking lot for sight of her, not expecting her to come from the side street. She liked the way his hair fell into his eyes, forcing him to constantly brush it out of the way. It made him look vulnerable.
When he turned to continue his scan of the parked cars, he saw her. She waved and his face broke into a grin of relief. She realized he hadn’t been totally sure she would show.
“Hey,” he said, when he reached her. “You look beautiful.” He handed her the flowers and Mia wished she’d spent just a little more time this morning on her outfit and her hair. She felt windblown and disheveled and, after her conversation with Liz Magnuson, a little scattered, too.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.
“I got us a booth,” he said, turning to walk with her to the restaurant. “I didn’t know if you’d rather have a table…”
“No, booths are great,” she said, smelling the light fragrance from her flowers.
When they seated themselves and ordered identical breakfasts of eggs, grits and country bacon, she found herself relaxing.
“Did you work last night?” she asked.
“Oh, not the graveyard shift,” he said. “I was off by eleven. I thought about calling you but didn’t want to appear too pushy since we were meeting this morning.”
Mia laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought it was pushy,” she said. “I’m flattered. Were you not sure I’d show?”
He fiddled with one of the specials cards in its metal frame on the table. “Well,” he said, not looking at her. “You left kind of fast yesterday at the hospital.”
“Oh, sorry about that. I wanted to say goodbye but Lorna was up for leaving with me and I had to strike while the iron was hot. I didn’t want her to get cold feet.”
“Yeah, sure, I see that. Where is she now?”
“With my mom temporarily enjoying the life of a spoiled teenager.”
“Only temporarily?”
“It turns out she’s a runaway from a foster situation.”
“Man, that’s rough.”
“I’m trying to think of a way we can keep her, but she’ll probably have to go back in the meantime.”
“Do they let them go back to the same families?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not. They might keep her in a more secure place, I guess, since she’s a runner.”
“Poor kid.”
“I owe you a giant thank you for calling me when she came in.”
“Well, I figured she was one of the kids you were talking about. She is, right?”
“Honestly? We haven’t asked her too many questions yet. But my guess is, yes.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Mia. Not many people would care about runaways.”
“I’m not amazing at all but I am single minded. Well, that’s not what Jack would call it.”
“Who’s Jack?”
Mia decided against explaining that whole complicated mess this early on.
“Nobody. My partner in the agency.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your private eye agency.”
“Technically, it’s Jack’s agency since he’s the one with the law enforcement experience and I’m the employee. But really we’re equal.”
“And you solve murders?”
“So far, only the one and it was a hair’s breadth between solving it and me nearly dying but I still put it in the ‘win’ column.” Mia laughed. Ben had a way about him that helped her unplug. When was the last time she’d laughed with Jack?
“Enough about me. What made you decide to be a nurse?”
“My folks didn’t have the money to send me to med school.”
“Really?”
Ben laughed. “No. That’s what everyone thinks, that I’m a guy so there must’ve been a reason why I’m not a doctor. But nursing is a calling. Bottom line, it’s my thing.”
“You don’t hear professions referred to like that much these days.”
“I know, right? I’m lucky because I love what I do and I get paid to do it. There’s nothing I’d rather do.”
“You are lucky. But why Grady? Isn’t it harder there?”
“I feel like I’m more needed there. I’m not taking splinters out of rich kid’s fingers or wrapping sprained ankles that Dunwoody housewives got on the tennis court. Every day that I come to work I feel like I made a difference to someone.”
“And that’s obviously important to you.”
He laughed. “Ben Bryant, super hero! Ready to swoop in and defend the weak and bandage up the homeless.”
Mia laughed too. When their food came, she realized she was hungry and dug into her plate with gusto.
“I like to see a woman who’s not afraid to eat,” Ben commented.
“Uh oh, that means I’m not being ladylike,” Mia said, her mouth full of eggs and toast.
“Exactly the way I like you,” he said, grinning.
“Can I tell you a big secret?” she said, putting her fork down.
Was she really going to do this?
“Are you kidding? I love secrets.”
She could see he was just the right mixture of apprehension and eager curiosity.
“Speaking of super powers, I have a sort of gift…something I can do that’s really different.”
He frowned, but his eyes sparkled with interest. “What kind of gift?”
“Well, I can touch someone and know…more about them than they intend to reveal.”
“That is a very weird—but cool,” he added hastily, “…gift.” He reached his hand out to her, palm side up. “Do me.”
She knew what she would feel before she touched him She knew she would get sparks of confidence and warmth, caring and even love from his hand.
Which was why she was so unprepared to feel precisely…nothing.
“Well?” he prompted. “What’s the diagnosis? What did you feel?”
“Well,” she said, discomfited as she removed her hand and picked up her fork again. “It’s not really a science.”
“Is it bad?”
Now he looked completely crestfallen.
“No. Not at all. I got that you are a stand-up guy who has a big caretaker side to him.”
“Not exactly a news flash,” he said with another grin. “But I guess I’m not that complicated.”
“I don’t want you to think that,” Mia said. “This is probably not the right environment. I’ll try it again later.”
“That’s a date. In fact, I live right around the corner from here. If I’m not being too presumptuous, I would love for you to see the view of the park from my apartment.”
“Okay. Sure.” The eggs weren’t sitting too good in her stomach. What had happened? Had something happened?
“Why don’t you follow me in your car?” he said. “Where did you park?”
“Off Spring Street.” She looked at the grey sky. The chilly morning was about to become a wet morning as well.
“I’ll give you a lift to your car.”
He paid the bill and they left the restaurant. She didn’t know what happened to the earlier happy mood she’d felt to her bones but she knew it was gone now. He led her to a black Ford Expedition and opened the door for her. When she slid into the passenger seat of his car she felt a dizzying disorientation of smells and sensations. From years of past experiences, she had trained herself not to touch or hold onto the usual places one tended to when in a new environment, but even without wrapping her hand around the door handle or touching the seatbelt, something felt wrong. Before she could put a name to it, Ben hopped into the driver’s seat, leaned across the space between them and kissed her on the mouth.
Instantly, an image slammed into her head accompanied by a discordant soundtrack of screams of agony. Mia fought to get out o
f the car, to get away from Ben.
This car had been used to transport women.
Hysterical, terrified women.
11
Jess straightened the couch pillows and folded the vintage wool afghan that her mother had knitted. She laid it on the couch and wrapped her arms around herself. The child had loved the throw. If Bill hadn’t been so firm about the girl not taking anything that wasn’t hers, Jess would have liked for her to have it.
She didn’t blame Bill. His was a hard job and she was glad he was strong enough to do it. She heard a mockingbird outside the living room window and she turned her head in its direction although the drapes were pulled. She didn’t worry about Bill’s heart being in the right place. Hadn’t she felt exactly where that dear man’s heart was many times over?
“Jess?” He stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, waiting. Without a word, she went to him and let him draw her into his arms. “It had to be done,” he whispered into her hair.
“I know.” But she wasn’t sure she did.
They both turned at the sound of a car’s brakes engaging on the driveway outside.
“That’s Mia,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Did you tell her?”
She went to the front door and peered out the sidelight around the front door. “No. She’s probably coming to see Lorna.”
“I thought she and Jack were coming at noon.”
The door opened and Mia stormed into the small living room, bringing a blast of cold January air in with her.
“You are not going to believe this,” she said to the both of them as she began to unbutton her coat. “That guy I was kind of dating? You know the one?”
“I don’t think you’ve mentioned anyone, dear,” Jess said, taking Mia’s coat. “Bill, can you see if there’s still coffee?”
“I need to talk to you, Bill,” Mia said, walking up to him as he was attempting to leave the room. “I need you to do a forensics thingy on someone’s car. You know where you vacuum for fibers and like that? Can you set that up?”
“Mia, what’s all this about?” Jess said, dropping her coat on the couch. “Where’s Jack?”
“Still asleep, probably,” Mia said, moving to position herself between Bill and the kitchen as if to block his exit. “Can you do that, Bill? And it’ll have to be soon. I know I freaked him out, lunging out of his car. Well, let’s just say, I tipped my hand big time. He definitely knows I’m on to him now.”
“Who does?” Bill said, frowning. He looked at Jess as if she might want to try to get control of her daughter.
“I told you! This guy I’ve been dating. His name is Ben Bryant and he’s a nurse at Grady Hospital.”
“And you think he’s involved in something illegal?” Bill said.
“Why are you stonewalling me like this?” Mia said, throwing her hands up. “You know Jack and I are trying to find out who killed José—”
“I thought we agreed you were going to leave that to the Atlanta Police.”
Mia’s mouth fell open and she looked from Bill to her mother. “I never said that. Are you telling me you don’t want me to investigate?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But you need to go through this guy’s car. It’s been used, recently, in the transportation of hostage women.”
“How in the world would you know such a thing?”
“Mia,” Jess said, realizing Mia was seconds away from losing all credibility with Bill. “I think we should all sit down and take a breath before going forward with this—”
Mia turned to her. “I take it that means you haven’t told him about your special talents, Mom? I guess I thought you were closer than that.”
“What is she talking about?”
“I know,” Mia said, readdressing Bill who was now standing with his hands on his hips. “Because I felt it with my hands.” She turned to her mother. “The minute I got inside his car I knew something wasn’t right. And then, when he kissed me—”
“Okay, this is just downright weird, now,” Bill said, turning to go into the kitchen.
Mia watched in frustration as he left, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side. She turned to her mother. “Mom, he doesn’t believe me but somebody has got to check this guy out. There are…”
Jess watched Mia’s thoughts begin to dissipate and then stall as her eyes suddenly began to roam the room.
“Where’s Lorna?”
And there it was.
Mia snapped her attention back to Jess. “Mom? Where’s Lorna?” She turned and ran into the hallway and wrenched open the first bedroom door before returning to the living room. “Where the hell is she?”
Bill stepped out of the kitchen, two mugs of coffee in his hands, and positioned himself between Jess and Mia. He put the mugs down.
“You knew she couldn’t stay…” he said.
“You said we’d get to talk to her!” Mia looked at her mother. “When did she leave?”
Jess opened her mouth to speak, but her shoulders sagged in defeat.
She hadn’t wanted to let the poor girl go.
“Mom?”
“Your mother had nothing to do with this,” Bill said firmly. “I drove her to Child Services last night after you and Jack left. She was reunited with her foster family this morning.”
“Reunited? Reunited? You think this is some kind of Disney movie where the little urchin was lost and now she’s back with her golden lab and a mommy and daddy who love her?”
“It’s done, Mia,” Bill said.
“Well, what’s not done is that you are a liar and a bastard,” Mia said, drilling his shirtfront with her index finger. She brushed past her mother to snatch up her winter coat and jerk open the front door without another word. The door slammed behind her as Jess sat down heavily on the couch. She didn’t think her legs would’ve held up another minute.
“She’ll calm down,” Bill said, patting her on the shoulder. “She’s upset now but she’ll shake it off.”
“I know,” Jess said quietly, her insides feeling like jelly. She hoped Mia was okay to drive. “Can you imagine,” she said softly, “if we’d told her the full story?”
Bill had gotten the phone call not an hour earlier with the report that Lorna had run away again.
“I’m going to heat up the coffees,” Bill said softly before leaving the room.
Jess sat on the couch, her hands in her lap, when she saw a glimpse of something hidden between the couch cushions.
It was a bright pink iPod shuffle.
Jess’s fingers tingled gently with the subtle, muted joy of its recent owner.
*****
Jack poured the béchamel over the chops then scattered a handful of parsley on top. The guy he was cooking for today was a writer. He wasn’t at all picky about his food. In fact, he seemed downright grateful for anything Jack produced from the kitchen.
Kind of astonishing considering the guy was paying premium prices to have a personal chef cook for him.
More than once, Jack wondered if the old guy just wanted the company. He lived alone in a Buckhead townhouse that had to be four thousand square feet. Every foot of it was burnished walnut—or in the case of his two-story library—walnut and marble.
Jack wiped the plate rim, added a small covered ramekin of steamed green beans, and a flute of sparkling water onto the tray. He balanced the tray in one hand, knocked on the paneled door that led to the man’s study, then let himself in. He’d only cooked for the guy a couple times but he’d already learned the man rarely answered his knocks, so involved was he in whatever he was writing.
Jack noticed the man was hunched over his laptop by the front window, the drapes pulled back and the light spilling onto his desk. Jack left the tray, straightening the folded cloth napkin next to the plate, and exited the room.
Now, after a very easy cleanup he was done. He looked at his watch. Mia should be out of her yoga class by now. He ha
d plenty of time to finish up here and either meet her at Jess’s to talk with young Lorna, or run by and pick Mia up at the condo.
He knew she was frustrated with their stalled investigation. Hell, he was frustrated. But at least they had Lorna.
An ugly thought had been niggling away at the base of his skull for the last couple of days and, like with most unwanted contemplations, he eventually gave in and brought it out into the open.
Was it really just coincidence that Bowers intercepted them before they got upstairs to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement office?
Was Bowers working with the feds? If he wasn’t, it would explain why Jack hadn’t heard from him lately and why the last time he did hear from him it was just to tell him again to back off. With no phone number, Jack’s only way of contacting the guy was through Liz Magnuson.
Was she on the level? Or was Atlantans Against Modern Slavery a front for, say, a human trafficking ring? If it was, it was effing brilliant.
As he loaded the dishwasher, it occurred to Jack that he could ask Maxwell to check out Bowers. Probably should have done it straightaway. As he closed the machine and turned it on, his phone began to vibrate. Speak of the devil…
“Burton, here.”
“You home?”
“On my way in about fifteen minutes. Why?”
“Mia came by a bit ago and got upset. Thought you could soothe her feathers.”
“Why are her feathers ruffled?”
“I had to take Lorna back.”
“You took her back yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yeah and I got word this morning that she’s run again.”
Shit!
“Mia doesn’t know that part yet so it’d be great if you’d tell her for me.”
“I will if you do something for me.”
Jack picked up Maxwell’s wary tone. “What?” he said.
“I need you to check someone out for me. He said he’s undercover with the feds. Name’s Trey Bowers but that might not be his real name.”
“Is he working with ICE?”
“More like a liaison or something. He told me he’s FBI. But check GBI, too.”
Complete Mia Kazmaroff Page 31