by Sherry Lewis
“Disappointed?” Doug laughed as if he’d never heard anything so preposterous. “Honey, I could never be disappointed in you.”
“Never?” She ran a thumb across the scar he’d acquired trying to tow her first car home one night during her senior year of high school. “Are you sure about that?”
Her dad’s smile slipped a little. “Are you worried?”
“I don’t know if I’d say ‘worried,’” she hedged, “but sometimes I wonder if I can live up to what you and Mom expect from me.”
“Mom and I don’t expect all that much. We only want you to be happy.”
“I know, but…” She wondered how to explain what was bothering her and how he’d react if she told him the truth. “I don’t know— It’s just that sometimes I wonder how proud of me you’d be if I decided to leave the police department, or if I made some other big change in my life.”
Her dad pulled back slightly to get a better look at her. “Are you contemplating a change?”
“No. I don’t think so.” She sent him a weak smile and added, “I don’t know, Dad. It’s been a rough week and I feel like I’m running in circles all the time. I’m not sure what I’m thinking of doing.”
“Well, honey, I wish I could give you a clear-cut answer, but in my experience, answers like the one you’re looking for are hard to come by. There’s only one person who can find it, anyway. Are you unhappy with your job?”
She shook her head and looked down at her own fingertips. “Not really.”
“But you’re thinking about leaving? May I ask why?”
Suddenly overcome with the need to talk it through, she drew her hand away from his and stood. “I lost a child this week. We did everything to find him, but we were too late.”
“The little boy on the news?”
Lucy nodded miserably. “I can’t stop thinking about it—about how his body looked in the field where they found him. About the look on his mother’s face when I gave her the news. About all the things I should have done differently. I close my eyes, and I see him, or I see his mother. I hear her crying. I see his face in the pictures they gave us when he first disappeared, and I’m not sure I can do this again.”
“You know it’s not your fault, don’t you?”
She turned back to face him. “I want to believe that, but I don’t. I swore to protect and serve. I promised to make this world a better place, but I don’t feel as if I’m doing that. I’m not even sure I know how.”
“All because one case ended badly?”
“Badly?” She let out a harsh laugh and wrapped her arms around herself. “An eight-year-old boy is dead. I think that’s a little worse than ‘badly,’ don’t you?”
“It’s a horrible tragedy,” her dad agreed. “But you’re not to blame for what happened.”
“I should have found him.”
“I know you wanted to find him,” her dad said gently, “but you did what you knew how to do at the time. If you’d known something different, you’d have done different.”
“It’s this horrible feeling of being out of control I hate. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. You’d think that in six years, I’d understand that I’m never going to be in control. Never. No matter how hard I try, someone else is always going to have the upper hand.”
“So you want to give up?”
She slanted a glance at him. “That makes me sound weak, doesn’t it?”
He crossed the room to her and pulled her into his arms.
“No, sweetheart, it makes you sound human. There’s a reason most of us don’t become police officers.”
“Because you’re all smarter than I am?”
He laughed softly and kissed her cheek. “No, because we all know our limitations. We’re afraid, but that doesn’t mean we don’t need people like you who have courage enough to do the job. In fact, it means we need you more than ever.”
But did she have what it took? Or had she been deluding herself until now?
The possibility chilled her. “I don’t know, Daddy. Maybe I’m not cut out for it, after all. Maybe I’d be better off with a husband and a carload of kids, cheering at soccer games and planning school fund-raisers.”
Her dad laughed and chucked her under the chin. “Now, that’s just a load of nonsense. You’re letting your imagination run away with you, and you’re letting one bad experience throw you. But that’s not how you were raised, and that’s not who you are. Maybe you don’t realize that right now, but I know it, and so does your mother.”
Ruffling her hair affectionately, he nudged her toward the door. “Things will look better in the morning. Just you wait and see. And if not tomorrow, then the next day. But you’re not a quitter, Lucy. My girl is made of sterner stuff than that.”
She followed him into the darkened corridor, but only because she couldn’t think of a good reason to stay. She wanted desperately to believe what he said, but he had more faith in her than she had in herself. She wasn’t at all sure he was right.
THE NEXT DAY, JACKSON insisted on going with Lucy to the school. He’d spent most of the previous afternoon trying to find out about Patrice’s job at the Truck Haven, but he’d made the mistake of being honest with the Human Resources Director at the company’s headquarters. Even a missing family member hadn’t been enough to pull information from the tight-lipped woman.
He wasn’t sure what difference he could make here, either. Maybe none at all. But he needed to feel part of the investigation, and Lucy had been surprisingly receptive to the suggestion.
There was something different about her this morning, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She seemed quieter. A little less confident, maybe. Or perhaps she was just tired. He thought about asking, but she didn’t seem to be interested in idle chatter, and whatever it was seemed to fade as teachers came and went.
None of the faculty members knew Angelina well, and nobody had seen anything to make them believe she was about to run away from home. Every kid on the list of friends they’d been given had seemed genuinely surprised and frightened by her disappearance, and halfway through the day Jackson was convinced they were wasting precious time.
With one more student to go, he was champing at the bit, raring to get back on the streets where their chances of finding information suddenly seemed high by comparison. Lucy, on the other hand, sat through each interview with her hands locked in front of her and an encouraging look on her face, as if she actually thought these young girls might have something valuable to say.
He watched with growing frustration as the school counselor who’d been assisting them all morning led a coltish young girl with red-blond hair falling into her eyes into the room and introduced her as Erica Curtis.
Erica walked into the room slowly, her eyes so wide and uncertain she looked four instead of fourteen. When Lucy motioned her toward a chair, the girl sat quickly and tucked her hands beneath her legs.
Lucy smiled at her gently. “Hi, Erica. Please don’t be nervous. We just need to ask you a few simple questions, okay?”
The girl nodded.
“You’re a friend of Angelina’s?”
Erica’s gaze flickered toward the counselor, as if she wasn’t sure she should answer. When the counselor nodded encouragement, Erica finally spoke. “Yeah.” She slid a glance at Jackson, but looked away again almost immediately. “Is it true? Did Angel really get kidnapped?”
“We think it’s more likely that she ran away,” Lucy said. “We’re hoping you can help us.” She smiled gently and showed the girl her badge. “My name is Lucy. I’m a detective with the police department. You know Miss Peter-man,” she said with a nod at the counselor, “and this is Angel’s Uncle Jackson. No one is going to be angry with you, so please don’t worry about that.”
Erica blew her bangs out of her eyes, but the hair flopped back almost immediately.
“Would you like a soda or something before we start?”
The girl brushed the hair away with h
er hand and tried to look brave. “No. I’m okay.”
She was young and so obviously nervous, Jackson was torn between compassion and frustration. Angelina might be out there alone somewhere, more frightened than this, without someone like Lucy making everything all right.
“All right then.” Lucy smiled again and picked up her pencil. “Can you tell me when you saw Angel last?”
“Friday, I guess. At school.”
“Did you see her or talk to her over the weekend?”
Erica gave her head a shake. “No. We don’t live near each other.”
“Do you ever talk on the phone?”
The girl’s gaze faltered. “Sometimes.”
“But you didn’t this weekend?”
“Uh-uh. Me and my mom were gone.”
“I see.”
Another waste of time. Jackson stirred impatiently and tried to catch Lucy’s eye.
Either she didn’t see him, or she pretended not to. Leaning toward the girl, she smiled as if they shared a secret. “Here’s the thing, Erica…. Some people think that Angel ran away or that she went off with friends. Now, the truth is, we’d be really happy if that’s what happened. At least we’d know she was safe. So if you know anything about where she is, or if you think maybe you know something, we’d really like you to tell us. But maybe that’s not what happened. Maybe somebody took Angel away from her house. If that’s what happened, we need to find her before she gets hurt. We need you to think hard and tell us everything you can remember. Does she have a boyfriend? Did she ever say anything to you about running away? Has she ever talked about somebody who bothered her, or has she ever acted afraid?”
The girl took all of that in without changing expression and remained unmoving for so long Jackson thought he might go crazy. Did she know something? If so, why didn’t she just say so?
“I don’t think she ran away,” Erica said at last. “Angel wouldn’t do that. And besides, all of her friends are here. If she was at somebody’s house, they would have said something.” She smiled uncomfortably and shifted so that she almost uncovered one hand. “And I don’t think anybody was bugging her anymore. Not since Wayne moved away.”
Jackson met Lucy’s startled gaze over the top of Erica’s head. After hearing so many people giving the same answers, he wasn’t sure whether to believe this child or not. He moved his chair closer and forced words out past the knot of his suddenly tight throat. “Who is Wayne?”
“He’s this guy who used to live near Angel.”
“He doesn’t live there now?”
She shook her head and looked to Lucy for guidance.
“Why don’t you tell us about him,” Lucy suggested.
Erica’s gaze darted uncertainly between them. “He’s just this guy.”
“But he used to bother Angel?”
“Sometimes.” Erica pulled one hand from beneath her legs and chewed her thumbnail. “He used to talk to her sometimes, but she thought he was creepy.”
Jackson could hardly breathe, and it seemed as if time had slowed almost to a standstill. Erica’s voice sounded strange to his ears, and the only thing he could clearly see was Lucy’s face.
“Does he go to school here?” Lucy asked.
“No. He’s too old.”
“How old?”
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the same age as my brother. He’s twenty.” She seemed to realize, slowly, that she’d said something important. Her face paled and her eyes grew even wider. “He was always bugging Angel. Asking her out and stuff. Walking by her house when her mom was gone. That’s why she used to hang out with Hank, because Wayne left her alone when she was with Hank.”
Ice and fire pulsed through Jackson with every heartbeat. Fear and determination. Disbelief and pain. Anger and hatred. “What is Wayne’s last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know where he lived?”
“Not really. Somewhere near Angel is all I know.” The class bell sounded through the closed doors and Erica finally showed a little animation. “Is that all? I have Geography next, and we’re having a test. My dad will kill me if I miss it.”
Still looking shell-shocked, Lucy nodded. “Yes. Of course. You don’t want to miss your test.”
Bolting to her feet, Erica scampered from the room, leaving a stunned silence in her wake. Jackson recovered first, shooting out of his chair and heading toward the door, but Lucy was just half a step behind him. He could barely form a coherent thought around the anger clouding his mind, but at least now his anger had a target—and a name.
Now all they had to do was find him.
Chapter Seven
IT SEEMED TO TAKE FOREVER to make the short drive to Angel’s neighborhood, and Lucy watched Jackson carefully as she drove. He was more agitated than ever, and no wonder. She could hardly breathe herself, and panic lurked just below the surface, waiting to drag her under. The only way she’d get through this was to focus on something other than herself, and that meant Jackson.
From the minute Erica mentioned Wayne’s name, Jackson’s mood had changed. All the energy that had gone into frustration and disappointment now poured into finding Wayne. She could feel the anger radiating from him. She could see the grim determination on his face. But she couldn’t let his hatred run unchecked. Maybe Wayne did know something about Angelina’s disappearance, but they were a long way from proving it, and she needed Jackson to keep his head until they had what they needed. If he didn’t, she wasn’t sure she could hang on to her own reason.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warned as she rounded the corner onto Angel’s street. “This may turn out to be nothing.”
He shot a glance across the seat and laughed sharply. “How can you say that? It’s the first real lead we’ve found.”
“We don’t know what it is yet,” she reminded him. “At this point it’s nothing but a possibility.” She pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, shifting in the seat so she could see him better. “False leads turn up all the time in cases like this. This boy might be completely innocent.”
Scowling, Jackson unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door handle. “Might be. Then again, maybe he’s not.”
“All I’m saying is, we can’t convict him on the testimony of one young girl. She might have been trying to sound important. Her imagination could have run away with her and turned something innocent into something wrong. We don’t know anything yet.”
Annoyance flashed across Jackson’s face. “Look, Lucy, I know you have rules to follow and hoops to jump through, but I don’t. If this Wayne character had anything to do with Angel’s disappearance, I’m going to find out.”
“You don’t think I feel the same way?”
“I don’t know. You have a job to do, that’s all I know.”
It was true, as far as it went, but for some reason his assessment stung. She opened her door and stepped out onto the street. “If you think I don’t care about finding Angelina,” she said when he joined her, “you’re dead wrong. If you think I’ll put in my time and move on without a care in the world, you’re wrong again. I want to find Angel and bring her home as much as you do, but I’m not going to convict someone before I even talk to him.”
“And I’m not going to let some twisted punk walk free if he’s hurt my niece. I won’t waste time jumping through hoops and fighting red tape when Angel might be in danger.”
“Get real, Jackson. Even if Wayne is guilty, if you start playing vigilante he’ll walk away and you’ll be the one in jail. All we have is rumor and speculation, so cut me some slack, okay? I’ll keep doing what I believe is necessary to make sure Angel is safe, but I’m not going to put my career in jeopardy because you’re impatient.”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “When did I ever suggest that you should?”
“If you want me to run after Wayne without taking time and care to find out what really happened, that’s exactly what you’re asking.”
>
Jackson’s eyes roamed her face for a long moment. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and she prayed he couldn’t read her mind. If he guessed how close she was to chucking it all in and walking away from the job, she’d never be able to control him. If he knew how she’d botched her last case, he’d never believe another word she said.
After a long time, he dipped his head and muttered, “Let’s see what Hank says.”
Almost sick with relief, Lucy led the way up the walk, but she was far too conscious of Jackson behind her, far too aware of his restless energy and his unspoken disapproval. She could only hope that she was making the right decision.
The door creaked open in response to her knock, and Hank frowned out at them. “Is this good news or bad?”
“Neither,” Lucy said. “We’d like to ask a few more questions if you don’t mind.”
“I hope I have answers.” Hank let them into the cool interior of the house and led them into a small living room filled with the tools of his trade. A few framed paintings hung on the walls, but many more unframed canvases leaned in stacks against the walls, and the heavy scents of paint and turpentine filled the air.
Hank motioned them toward the couch with the wave of one paint-stained hand. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soda?”
“No, thank you.” Lucy sat at one end of the couch. Jackson somewhat reluctantly sat on the other.
Hank moved a canvas from in front of a well-worn recliner and settled in. “How’s the search going?”
“Slowly, I’m afraid. We’ve just come from Angel’s school. One of her friends mentioned a young man named Wayne who used to live here in the neighborhood. She seemed to think that Wayne caused trouble for Angelina from time to time.”
“Wayne?” Hank’s expression sobered and he shook his head thoughtfully. After a moment, his gaze shifted and his eyes lit. “Wayne. Yeah. I think I remember him.”
“You know him, then?”
“If I’m thinking of the right guy, he lived down at the end of the block for a few years. I never had much to do with him, but he seemed like the kind you’d want to keep your eye on.”