The Children's Cop

by Sherry Lewis

  “Detective Lucy Montalvo.” She shook his hand briefly and fished a notebook from her pocket. “Thanks for coming. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  He frowned in confusion. “I thought I was going to ask the questions.”

  “I’ll be happy to tell you anything I can.” Her tone was as flat as her expression. “Would you come with me?”

  Doing his best to rope in his impatience, Jackson followed her to a small room furnished with one small table and a few hard plastic chairs. It wasn’t his first visit to an interrogation room, either, and he wondered what Detective Montalvo would file away about him in her mental bank by the time they were through. He was used to cops drawing conclusions about him thanks to Holden, too, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

  She sat in one of the chairs and pointed to another, waiting to speak until he’d made himself reasonably comfortable. “How long have you been in Houston, Mr. Davis?”

  He glanced at his watch instinctively, but he didn’t need to. He’d been watching the minutes click past in his truck for well over three hours. “I crossed the city limits exactly fifty-three minutes ago. What are you doing to find my niece?”

  “Everything we can. You live where?”

  “On the Crescent Valley Ranch outside Nacogdoches, but I assume you already know that.”

  She acknowledged that with a dip of her head. “Have you heard from Angelina lately?”

  Lately? Try “ever.” He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “What about your sister-in-law?”

  “Patrice was never my sister-in-law, and I haven’t heard from her, either. I have no idea where my niece is, Detective. I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

  She made a note in her book and lifted those disconcerting dark eyes to his. “Not yet, I’m afraid. When was the last time you talked to Angelina?”

  “You want an exact date?”

  “If you have one.”

  “August 23, thirteen years ago.”

  For the first time, a flash of emotion showed in her eyes, but it disappeared again almost immediately. “Thirteen years?”

  “On her first birthday.”

  She rolled the pen between her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “Why so long?”

  “Because I didn’t know where to find her. Patrice disappeared with her shortly after that.”

  “But you’re here today.”

  “And more surprised than you are, I assure you.” He drummed the fingers of one hand on the table. “I’m here because my grandfather, Wiley, got a call from a man named Henry Livingston this morning, telling us that Angelina was missing. I don’t know how he knew about us. I can only assume that Patrice or Angel told him where to find us.”

  “I see.”

  “Then you’re a step ahead of me.” He shifted in his seat, eager to get things moving. “I don’t understand a damned thing, but I’m here and I’ll do whatever needs doing to bring Angelina home again.”

  “Of course.”

  Her tone cut through the last, slim hold he had on his irritation. “Look, I know it sounds weird, Detective. I’m sure you think I’m making a lot of noise that doesn’t mean much. After all, I’ve let thirteen years go by without seeing her, right?”

  The detective’s eyes registered shock for only an instant before they shuttered again. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Trying to regain control, Jackson stood and paced to the edge of the tiny room. When he trusted himself to speak again, he turned back to face her. “Angelina is my only niece. If I’d had my choice, I’d have seen her every day for the past thirteen years, but I didn’t have the chance. I love her, Detective. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I saw her.”

  “Of course,” she said again, but this time she seemed slightly less sure of herself, or at least a little less suspicious of him.

  He returned to the table and looked into her eyes. “Now it’s my turn. Have you turned up any leads yet? Do you know who took her?”

  This time, she made no effort to hide her surprise. “Who took her?”

  “Do you have any leads? Any suspects? And don’t tell me you can’t share that information with me because I’m not leaving here until you tell me what you know.”

  “Mr. Davis—”

  “Please don’t put me off, Detective. I need to know what you’ve found so far.”

  All at once her expression shifted and something very close to pity filled her eyes. “Mr. Davis, I’m afraid you may be functioning under a misunderstanding. We have no proof that Angelina has been abducted.”

  Just like that, the brittle fear that had kept him on tenterhooks all morning began to crumble. “But—”

  “We don’t know anything definite,” she said, “but it’s far more likely that Angelina left home on her own.”

  “But I thought—”

  “I’m sorry. If I’d realized, I would have set your mind at ease sooner.”

  Suddenly unable to speak, he nodded and looked away. He tried to focus on the clock, the table, the marbled pattern on the floor—anything but the almost-painful rush of relief that had him off balance. He’d reluctantly considered this possibility, but hearing the detective confirm it suddenly made it almost real.

  He wasn’t naive enough to believe that a runaway wasn’t in any danger. Holden had started out exactly this way, and Jackson could have papered a room with proof of the trouble he’d been in. It would be even worse for a young woman on her own. Chasing Holden all over creation in the early years had opened Jackson’s eyes to the seamy side of society, and robbed him of what little faith he’d had left in people. Fourteen was too young for any child to be on her own, especially a girl in a world filled with predators.

  But for just a minute, he let himself relax. Like it or not, he was back in familiar territory. But how could he tell Wiley that they were starting the cycle all over again? That alone might be enough to kill him.

  Chapter Three

  KICKING HERSELF FOR NOT realizing sooner what Jackson was thinking, Lucy waited while he digested the news. She hated causing pain—especially when it was unnecessary. She’d been thinking about the upcoming press conference on the Avila case and wondering how she’d make it through without cracking. Too wrapped up in her own concerns, Lucy hadn’t been paying enough attention to the job at hand.

  She couldn’t let that happen again.

  Jackson took a few minutes to pull himself together, and Lucy tried to keep herself in the moment by watching him. He was a good-looking guy. Tall. Solidly built. He had that windswept look a person could only get from spending time outdoors. Dark blond hair curled lazily to his collar. Muscles strained in his arms and legs with even the slightest movement. He was in terrific shape, no doubt about that. And it was natural. He probably didn’t even know what a cross-trainer was.

  After a long moment, he looked up at her from a pair of deep-set eyes—green or hazel, she couldn’t be sure which.

  “All right. So now what?”

  Feeling a little guilty at having been caught studying him so intently, she smiled. “Now we start again. Would you like something to drink? We have a vending machine on the other side of the building—”

  “I’m fine,” he said, brushing aside her offer. “Let’s just get to work.”

  “All right. I take it you’re not particularly fond of Angelina’s mother.” It was an understatement. There was no way to miss the harsh glare in his eyes whenever he spoke of her, and it came again now, right on cue.

  “Patrice and I have never been exactly friendly. I had a few opinions about her relationship with my brother and I didn’t exactly keep them to myself. She didn’t care for what I had to say.”

  “Do you have any idea where to find her?”

  “Absolutely none.”

  “Do you mind telling me what your opinions of her relationship with your brother were?”

  His brows knit into a frown
. “Is that really necessary? It was a long time ago.”

  “I realize that, but at this point in our search, I have no idea what may be important and what may not.”

  Jackson shifted in his chair. “Holden was a kid when he got involved with Patrice. Angelina was born when they were just sixteen. They were both young, but I thought Patrice was trying to trap him. You hear about girls doing that, and her family wasn’t as well off as ours. I was convinced she was trying to get her hands on Wiley’s money. It turned out I was wrong.”

  “She wasn’t interested in money?”

  “Oh, she was interested enough when she and Holden were together. Just not as interested as I thought.” One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Grandpa was fully prepared to help her financially after Holden disappeared, but Patrice sent everything back, even the checks, and she disappeared herself only a few weeks later.”

  “And that surprised you?”

  His lips curved again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Which? Patrice sending the money back, or taking off for parts unknown?”

  “Both.”

  Crossing an ankle on his knee, Jackson shrugged. “Patrice surprised me more than a little. I never believed that she loved my brother. They were too different. Holden was a people person. Patrice was more of a loner. It did surprise me when she took off, but maybe it shouldn’t have. She was famous for taking off whenever she and Holden had a fight. Wiley sent me out to chase her down more than once.”

  He paused as if he expected Lucy to say something, but she waited him out. She had the feeling she’d learn more by letting him talk than she would by feeding him questions, and since the press conference wasn’t for another hour, she had time to spare.

  “I always thought she was manipulating all of us when she ran off,” he admitted after a few seconds. “Trying to make Holden react in a certain way. Trying to get him to feel something for her. I guess it worked. She got to Wiley, all right, but she just never did understand how emotionally bankrupt Holden was. When she left town, I thought it was just more of the same. Wiley and I tried to track her. Even hired a private detective, but we couldn’t find her—or Angelina, who really mattered to us.”

  “Why did you go to all that trouble? She was with her mother.”

  “Why?” He blurted a disbelieving laugh. “Because Patrice had Angel and she hadn’t even finished high school. She had no skills and no way to support the baby. Wiley thought they’d both be better off with family at the ranch.”

  “And what about Patrice’s family?”

  “She was living with an aunt who didn’t seem too worried about anything, including the fact that her teenage niece was sexually active and then pregnant.”

  “But your grandfather was concerned?”

  “To put it mildly.” His gaze faltered, but his voice remained strong. “Disappointing people is what my brother does best. Along with breaking promises and spending money that doesn’t belong to him. Angel was born with two strikes against her, Detective. Wiley could have made a difference.”

  Lucy looked away from the heartache on his face, and she wondered how he’d feel if he knew how badly she’d botched her last case. Would he trust her to find his niece, or would he ask for someone more competent to take her place?

  She couldn’t think about that. “Can you tell me when you saw your brother last?”

  Jackson’s gaze flew to hers. “You think Holden made contact with her?”

  “We can’t afford to overlook any possibility,” she said. “Can you remember the last time you saw him?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from him in five years.”

  “Do you think he might have come after Angelina?”

  “Holden?” He blurted another disbelieving laugh that echoed through the small room, but he sobered again almost instantly. “It’s possible, I suppose. I wouldn’t put anything past him. But I have a tough time imagining him suddenly becoming paternal after all this time. He never was interested in being a father, especially after he found out the job came with responsibilities. He hasn’t exactly been a model citizen, so I can’t imagine he’s changed.”

  “Is it possible that Patrice and Angel have gone to stay with the aunt you mentioned?”

  “Mattie passed away a few years ago.”

  “Does Patrice have any other family?”

  He nodded. “Wiley and I traced her parents to Cleveland, and she has an older sister living in California. I’ve managed to keep track of them, even if I’ve never been able to find Patrice.”

  “Then we should check with them. Do you have names and addresses?”

  “I do, and I’ll be happy to give them to you.”

  Lucy allowed herself a satisfied smile. “And your parents? Where can I find them?”

  Jackson’s posture became rigid, his expression somber. “My father is dead,” he said without inflection. “My mother has a condo here in Houston, but she’s in Greece at the moment with her new husband.”

  “She lives here in Houston?” Couldn’t he have mentioned that earlier? “Does she ever see Angelina?”

  “Never. Even if we’d known where to find them, Patrice would never have allowed it.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “As sure as I can be. I talked to my mother this morning. She would have told me if she’d had contact with Angel.”

  “You’re probably right, but I’ll want information on your mother’s whereabouts in case I need to contact her.” The request drew his brows together again, and she found herself wanting to wipe that look from his face. “We’re trying to cover all of our bases, but it’s still possible that Angel is just with friends. Girls that age have been known to take advantage of too much freedom.”

  “Considering my brother’s history, that’s not exactly a comforting thought.”

  “It’s a lot better than the alternative,” Lucy reminded him. “I’m going to need a way to contact your mother, just in case. And a way to reach you, as well.”

  Jackson nodded slowly. “I have my mother’s itinerary in the truck. I can call you with it after I get settled if that’s okay.” He jotted something on the back of a business card and shoved it across the table. “That’s the address where I’ll be staying, along with the phone number there and my cell phone.”

  Lucy slipped the information into her pocket. “How long do you plan to stay in Houston?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “That could be awhile, you know. If Angel is with friends, we’ll have a relatively easy job of finding her, but if she’s run away it might not be so easy. Fourteen-year-olds are pretty resourceful.”

  “I’m not leaving until I know she’s safe.”

  Lucy believed he meant it. She sent him a thin smile. “Well, then, we’ll just have to work as quickly as we can. I’m sure you’ll want to get home to the ranch and your grandfather.”

  He dipped his head in agreement, then leaned back in his seat and dragged his gaze across her so slowly she felt a little uncomfortable. “Tell me something, Detective. Are you even considering the possibility that Angel didn’t walk out the door on her own?”

  She felt herself flinch, but prayed he wouldn’t notice. “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t think that’s likely, but if that’s the case, we’ll do whatever is necessary to bring her home again.” What a weak assurance. Hadn’t she told Maria Avila the same thing?

  “So you’re not writing her off as a runaway?”

  Oddly disconcerted by his unwavering gaze, Lucy shut her notebook and stood. “I can assure you, Mr. Davis, I haven’t ‘written her off’ at all.”

  She was a little surprised by his intensity since he’d been out of Angelina’s life for so many years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize his own niece if he passed her on the street.

  That realization brought her up short. He wouldn’t know Angel if he ran into her, and that must weigh on him horribly. Sliding a hand into her poc
ket, Lucy removed a copy of the photo Hank had given her and handed it to him. “It just occurred to me that you might want this.”

  If she’d had any doubts about his commitment to Angelina, they disappeared as he took the picture from her. Holding it almost reverently, he blinked several times as he tried to focus on Angel’s face. Lucy suspected he couldn’t see a thing. Finally, he gave in and wiped tears away with the back of his hand, then lifted his gaze and managed a choked, “Thank you.”

  It wasn’t easy to maintain her professional demeanor in the face of such strong emotion. Lucy’s throat tightened and her vision blurred, but her reaction only frustrated her. She waited in silence, giving him a moment to pull himself together, taking the time for herself, as well.

  “I don’t know if Hank mentioned it,” she said when the lump in her throat faded again, “but apparently Angelina had an argument with her mother before she disappeared. That’s one of the reasons we think she ran away. There’s also a small chance she didn’t, but we have no reason to suspect foul play. I know how frustrating this is for you, but please try to understand that there are procedures to follow, and without evidence of a crime, there’s not a lot I can do.”

  He nodded and traced the outline of Angelina’s face with one finger.

  Lucy bit the inside of her cheek, hoping physical pain would help ground her emotionally. When the pager on her belt beeped, she seized the excuse to turn away. It was a sad commentary on her emotional state that she considered a return phone call from her plumber as a gift from heaven, but the call simply couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Working up a smile that she hoped carried a touch of regret, she put an end to the interview. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I need to make a call, but I have your address and phone number. I’ll be in touch.”

  Jackson shot to his feet. “That’s it?”

  “Yes…for now.”

  He made it to the door at the same time she did, and once again she was aware of his height and his raw strength. “What is it?”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Excuse me?”