The Children's Cop

by Sherry Lewis

  “I don’t think so. Life always gets unpredictable when I’m in the middle of a case.”

  Ellen added another piece of bacon to a plate on the counter. “You’re always in the middle of a case. Surely they give you time for a life of your own.”

  Lucy turned away, hoping she looked casual and unconcerned. “That’s how the job is, Mom.”

  “Yes, but working all the time—”

  “Is fine with me.” Lucy realized that she’d sounded abrupt and tried to water it down with a smile. “I love my job.”

  “Well of course you do.” Ellen carried the bacon and a pitcher of orange juice to the table. “And you know Daddy and I are as proud of you as we can be. That’s why Marlene and Scott want to bring Janelle to meet you. They want her to see that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life working in dead-end jobs, making little more than minimum wage. And she’s become so dependent on her therapist, Marlene is getting worried.”

  And they expected Lucy to serve as some kind of role model? Their timing couldn’t have been worse. “I don’t know why anyone would want to compare us,” Lucy argued. “Our situations are entirely different. Who knows? If I went through a messy divorce, I might be in worse shape than Janelle is.”

  Ellen rolled her eyes and gave a little laugh as if to say Don’t be silly. “Frankly, I think they made a big mistake in letting her get started in all that. I don’t know what good they think it’s going to do.”

  “It might help her a lot.”

  “Oh, really, honey. You hear all the time about how those people plant ideas in their patients’ heads. It’s best to just take care of things the good, old-fashioned way. At home. That’s where problems belong.”

  Feeling a little sick, Lucy pushed aside her cup and stood. “I’m sorry. I know it’s important to you, but I can’t be here.”

  “But sweetheart—”

  From somewhere deep inside came the urge to confide in her mother, but Lucy shoved it away. “Maybe another time,” she said, doing her best not to look like someone who wanted desperately to escape. “I’d better get into the shower or I’ll be late.”

  “But you haven’t eaten—”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She felt horrible, but what else could she do? Admit the truth? Tell her mother that she was apparently cracking under the pressure? That she wasn’t sure she could even do her job? That was something she wouldn’t admit unless she absolutely had to. The disappointment in her mother’s eyes over one missed breakfast was hard enough to bear.

  BY EIGHT-THIRTY, LUCY WAS pacing restlessly along the sidewalk in front of the café where she’d arranged to meet Jackson. She kept one eye on the passing cars, another on pedestrians, alert for young women who matched Angel’s description. She didn’t expect to find the girl that easily, but with the threat of suspension already hanging over her head, she couldn’t afford to be careless.

  A gull landed on the sidewalk a few feet ahead of her and snagged a dried piece of hamburger bun. With wings hunched, it hopped away just as three other gulls came in for a landing. Before they could steal the crumb, a red truck roared into the parking lot, scattering the gulls and setting off raucous cries of protest.

  Lucy smiled, pleased that the bird had been able to keep its prize, but when she recognized Jackson behind the wheel her smile faded. With his eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses and a deep scowl forming creases around his mouth, he looked wild and a little dangerous.

  She laughed off that assessment and ignored the flicker of interest as he jumped from the truck. He strode toward her—long, lean, and supremely confident—as if the world had been made just for him. But, of course, her interest was purely professional.

  He didn’t even wait to reach her before he started talking. “Okay, I’m here. I’m assuming you’re going to explain why.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s go inside for a minute.”

  He raked a disapproving look across her face. “You can’t tell me right here?”

  “I just thought it would be more comfortable if we sat. Maybe had some coffee…”

  “I’m not here to be comfortable, Detective. I’m here to find my niece. You asked to see me. I’m assuming you have news?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why waste time?”

  Lucy refused to let him intimidate her. “I have no intention of wasting time, Mr. Davis, and I think you’ll be glad you took a few minutes to talk to me.” When he still didn’t show any signs of budging, she added, “Humor me.”

  He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Look, Detective, pleasant as breakfast with you might be under other circumstances, I really don’t want to linger while my niece is missing.”

  Lucy ignored the backhanded compliment. Keeping her expression neutral, she started walking toward the restaurant and hoped he’d follow. “I don’t plan to linger, but I do have a proposition for you.” She reached the door and turned back to face him. “Ten minutes, that’s all I ask. I’ll even buy.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and started toward her. He was a large man, and she knew he was probably used to getting his own way, but the gentleness she saw in his eyes each time he talked about Angelina convinced her that he had a softer side, as well.

  Out of nowhere, she found herself wondering how he’d look if he smiled. Judging from the laugh lines around his eyes, that was probably something he did regularly when life was running smoothly, but it was something she’d probably never see.

  She turned back to the door and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. She’d left the house in a hurry, and now loose hair fell into her eyes and a splotch of something white adorned one lapel of her jacket. Her mother would have a fit if she could see Lucy looking like this. And though Lucy usually didn’t waste time and energy on her appearance, she was uncomfortably conscious of it now.

  Resisting the urge to brush at the stain and call attention to it, she reached for the door handle. She had the fleeting impression that Jackson reached for it a split second after her. It was over as quickly as it happened, but it had been a while since any man had thought of opening a door for her, and the gesture touched her.

  Not good, she told herself firmly. He was involved in a case. No matter how good-looking he was, no matter how intense his eyes, no matter how intriguing the expressions on his face, she had to keep her interest in him strictly professional. Especially now.

  Determined to stop taking inventory of his charms, she set off for a table before the door could close and ordered coffee from a passing waitress before Jackson could get into his seat. Just seeing him a little off-step as he dodged the harried waitress made her feel a little more in control, and that put a smile on her lips. “I know you don’t want to waste time,” she said as he slid into the seat across from her, “and I understand that you’re worried, but we have no reason to believe that Angel is in danger. So let’s not panic. Searching for a missing person can be slow, tedious work, but we still need a plan to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

  Jackson tugged off his sunglasses and set them on the table. “We?”

  She wasn’t about to admit that Nick had ordered her to include him, so she lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. “I’m assuming you want to be part of the search effort?”

  “Sure I do, but why the change of heart?”

  “It’s not a change of heart, Mr. Davis. It’s the only way I can come up with to approach this case and make the best use of the limited time and resources we have.”

  Jackson eyed her warily. “And that is…?”

  “I think we should work on this together. I want to visit Angel’s school this morning, see if she showed up for class, maybe talk to some of her friends. While I do that, you can try to track Patrice down. You’ve spoken with their neighbor Hank, right?” At his nod, she went on. “He says that Patrice was working at a truck stop a few months ago. I want you to find out if he remembers the name of the place, or anything else about it.
Even narrowing down the section of the city it’s in would help. If he still doesn’t remember, maybe one of their other neighbors will. We need to make absolutely certain Angel isn’t with her before we go much farther.”

  “You want me to look for Patrice?” He laughed without humor. “Weren’t you listening when I explained about our…relationship yesterday?”

  “Of course, but I’m counting that you’re not the kind of person to let the past get in the way.”

  “Patrice has been hiding from Wiley and me for the past thirteen years,” Jackson said, his voice taut. “She’s not going to just wait around for me to catch up with her now.”

  “You have a point,” Lucy conceded, “but I doubt the school will give you the same kind of information they’ll give me. I know it’s a gamble, but I think it’s a risk we need to take.”

  Jackson still looked skeptical. He stirred cream into his coffee and slanted a glance her way. “On a scale of one to ten, how convinced are you that Angel left home on her own?”

  Questions like that always made Lucy uneasy. It was so hard to tell how a person would react. Would her answer sound optimistic or pessimistic? Would it make him more determined or fill him with despair?

  “From one to ten, I’m at about seven,” she admitted.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I’m just trying to be honest, but yes. I think it should give you some hope. It’s much better than believing she was taken against her will, isn’t it?”

  He mopped his face with one hand and stared out the window for a long time while the muscles in his jaw and neck jumped. “You’re right. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. It’s just that I honestly don’t know how I feel.” He turned slowly to look at her, and the torment in his eyes tugged at her heartstrings. “One minute I’m angry at the world and everyone in it, the next I feel as if I’ve been gut-punched and I’m not even sure where I am.”

  “That’s understandable.” Lucy stirred sugar into her cup and pulled her notebook and pen from her pocket so she could keep track of their plans. “Have you talked with anyone else?”

  “Only every television station, radio station and newspaper in the yellow pages. Nobody’s interested in looking for a kid who might have simply run away.”

  She thought about mentioning her conversation with Gavin, but decided not to get his hopes up. “Did you have time for anything else?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I called my grandfather and gave him the news. When it got too late to make calls, I stared at the ceiling. That’s about it.” He picked up his cup and stared at it as if he didn’t know what it was for. “Weren’t there any clues about Angel’s plans in her room? A journal? A note? Anything?”

  “I haven’t gone through her room yet. Without Patrice to give us permission, I need more than just a ‘maybe’ to warrant going inside. But if we can find evidence that she didn’t leave home on her own, that will make a difference.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t gone through her room? You haven’t even looked inside the house?”

  “I’ve checked the exterior, but without some sign of a forced entry, I can’t just let myself in and start searching. There’s still a strong possibility that Angel has gone somewhere with her mother.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “If you can prove that, we’ll cross it off our list.” A waitress passed carrying a tray filled with bacon, eggs, toast and hash browns, and Lucy’s stomach reminded her that she’d ducked out of her mother’s house before breakfast. Sliding another look at Jackson’s drawn expression, she asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really thinking about food.”

  “Well I haven’t had breakfast, and I think it’s pretty obvious that we both need something.” She handed him a menu and opened another on the table in front of her. When he didn’t even look at his, she forced another smile. “Come on. Pick something. You won’t do Angel a bit of good if you make yourself sick, and if you’re going to help me, I need you clearheaded and physically strong. Besides, I said I’d buy, and who knows when you’ll get another offer like this?”

  He didn’t actually smile, but his lips did twitch slightly. “I have to admit, it would be a first for me. I don’t remember the last time a cop bought me breakfast.”

  A cop, not a woman. It was probably just the strange emotional state she was in that made her even notice, but the uncomfortable pricking of her self-esteem and the worry in his eyes made it hard to stay behind the walls she knew she had to keep in place.

  It wasn’t smart. She knew that. But without the six-pack and her parents to confide in, Lucy felt horribly alone and more frightened than she wanted to admit. More than anything, she needed a friend, and though Jackson didn’t qualify, he was here, he was alone, and he was as frightened and confused as she was.

  “Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t we forget, just for ten minutes, that I’m a cop working on a case. I’ll just be Lucy and you can be Jackson, and it will just be one person buying breakfast for another. Surely, that can’t be a first.”

  He did almost smile at that. “I have had breakfast bought for me a time or two. Lucy.”

  “Okay, then…Jackson. What would you like?”

  He turned his attention to the menu for a few seconds. “Steak and eggs. Over easy on the eggs, medium on the steak. Hash browns—crisp. More coffee.”

  His choice was so predictable for a Texas rancher, she couldn’t hold back a smile, and when he lifted his gaze to hers again she thought that some of the shadows there had lightened. She knew it wasn’t a permanent change. The haunted look would come back again as soon as they hit the streets, and so would hers. But she liked thinking that she could relieve some of the pressure, even for a moment. She just wasn’t sure which of them needed it most.

  Chapter Five

  AFTER THEY PLACED THEIR orders and the waitress refilled their cups, Jackson leaned back in his seat and cradled his mug in both hands. His tension didn’t vanish, but he did look a little less ready to snap. “Thank you,” he said. “I probably needed this.”

  “I know the pressure can get to you,” Lucy said, “but trust me when I say that we won’t accomplish anything if we don’t take a break from it now and then.” She fished an ice cube from her water glass and slid it into her coffee. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself and your family? The good stuff.”

  He laughed softly. “The good stuff, huh? Okay. That would be Wiley, I guess.” He scratched lazily just below one ear, sorting things out in his mind.

  She waited in silence, letting him make the shift at his own pace.

  “Wiley’s the salt of the earth,” he said after a while. “The kind of guy who walks tall and shoots straight. You never have to wonder where you stand with him.” A light she hadn’t seen before burned in his eyes and love brought his face to life for the first time since they met. “It’s hard to believe my brother and my dad come from the same stock.”

  “He must be very special to you.”

  Jackson nodded. “My father was a typical drunk. He managed to ruin every holiday, birthday and special occasion we ever had—not to mention more than his share of regular days. Holden started running his life into the gutter when he was fourteen, and my mom has her own share of problems, so when I was young, being around Wiley…well, it was like being on another planet.”

  His story made her own complaints seem puny by comparison. “Sounds like you’re lucky to have him.”

  “That’s for sure.” His eyes shadowed again. “I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s not around. I try not to think about it, but he’s already eighty-three and he isn’t going to be here forever. The doctors have told him he has to slow down and that’s making him a little crotchety, but underneath it all, he’s still just who he is.”

  Again that vulnerable expression softened his face and Lucy felt herself drawn to him in ways she s
houldn’t have been. But he clearly needed to unload, and he didn’t seem to have anyone else who could listen to him. Keeping him grounded and centered was in her best interest, and Angelina’s. “How long has your mother lived in Houston?”

  His posture changed subtly, but she couldn’t read his expression. “About ten years, I guess. Mom put up with Dad long enough to get Holden and me mostly raised. Fought their whole married life to get Dad out of the bottle, but he was never interested so she finally gave up.” He paused while the waitress delivered toast and jam, and even seemed to relax a little.

  “That must have been hard on the two of you,” Lucy said.

  “We got through it.”

  Yes, but at what cost? Lucy spread butter on her toast and dug through the jam dispenser for a packet of grape jelly. “What did your mom do after the divorce?”

  “I guess you could say that she rose out of the ashes. She went to work, got promoted, moved away. She just remarried a few weeks ago, and that’s why she’s out of the country.”

  “Do you like her new husband?”

  Again the waitress interrupted, and Jackson fell silent while she slid two plates of steak and eggs in front of them. When they were alone again, he sprinkled hot sauce across his eggs and shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess. I haven’t spent much time around him, but Mom seems happy so I’m willing to give him a chance.” He recapped the bottle and looked up at her. “What about yours?”

  “Mine?”

  “Your family.”

  She never shared her personal life with people involved in a case, but after opening the door on Jackson’s private life with the offer of friendship, she didn’t have the heart to slam it shut now. “I’m an only child,” she said as she cut into her steak. “Dad works with an accounting firm and Mom is Houston’s answer to Martha Stewart—before her legal trouble. She can fold a napkin twenty-four different ways with one hand and arrange flowers with the other.” Grinning, she reached for the steak sauce. “I take after my dad.”