by Cat Clayton
“Everything all right, Steely?” he asked.
“Oh yes, Officer Jackson.” I shot him a flirty smile. “I’m asking these folks to keep their voices down. I’m finding the things they’re saying about our friends, Daniel and Lucas, offensive, unkind, and inappropriate.” I snapped my head back in their direction. “And FYI, it is not against the law for gay people to be in this establishment. You asked, what right do they have? The same right as you morons do.”
“We’re allowed to say what we want,” one guy said.
“It’s a free country, isn’t it?” one bimbo squealed.
Jackson stepped beside me and in a calm voice said, “Remember this, there is no such thing as speech that is free, you are accountable for everything you say.”
I high-fived him. “Yeah, and your loud voices are spreading ugly all over the room. And no one wants to hear it.” I stacked my fists on my hips.
“I’ll second what the lady said,” someone from a nearby table said.
As I dragged Jackson away from their table, applause sounded all around us.
I gave a little bow, and we joined Daniel and Lucas on the dance floor. The four of us formed a group circle and we danced the night away.
Chapter 24
Cuddled on Jackson’s couch, watching a rerun of Law and Order, I finally sobered up. The reality of the day hit me square in the guts. I fought back tears.
“You okay?” Jackson asked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m really worried about Stoney.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I nodded. “There’s not much we can we do though. She’s an adult, and if she doesn’t want to see us, it’s her choice.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
“There wasn’t a gift left for her today. Maybe it was Kramer all along, and after running into him earlier, he knows we’re onto him. And with his sidekick Santa on the run, maybe now Kramer will back off and this nightmare will end.”
He rubbed my arm. “Steely, I don’t know. If you’re right, and he’s the one, there’s a good chance he murdered Lloyd, which makes him dangerous. I’ll say this, whoever it is, we’ll catch him. I know this is hard on you.”
“Ugh, you have no idea. I think in the morning, after breakfast, I’ll stop in and try to see Stoney.” I stared at the TV, not really focusing on the show, but more zoning out. We sat silent for a few minutes, enjoying the quietness.
“So, what about your grandmother tonight?” he asked.
“I can’t believe Gertie’s teaching dance lessons at the brewery,” I said, sitting up and retrieving my tea from the coffee table. I sipped a cup of chamomile, feeling Jackson’s body quaking with quiet laughter.
“Like you, she constantly surprises me.” He gestured toward the TV. “You know this isn’t how it happens in the real world of law enforcement, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s entertaining. Pop used to tell me the same thing when I watched it at home.” I snuggled against him. “And I love that I surprise you. I hope in a good way.”
He nodded. “Take this evening, for instance. When those idiots started trash-talking Daniel and Lucas, I admired the way you defended them.”
“I made a fool of myself. It’s so embarrassing. I vaguely recall going over there and running my mouth. That’s what happens when wine goes to my head.”
“Nah, I thought you were adorable. Not to mention, you gained the support from many of the other people watching.”
I glanced up into his eyes, savoring his handsome face, and the way his warm breath felt on my skin.
“I guess it could’ve been worse. Six months ago, my hot temper mingling with three glasses of wine would’ve been explosive. A complete disaster. Need I remind you of the Fourth of July party?”
He chuckled, rubbing my arm. “You don’t have to remind me. I’ll never forget it.”
“It’s nice to know I left such a lasting impression on you.” I mentally chastised myself for my behavior that hot July evening.
“Yeah. I’m fairly certain I fell in love with you that night.” His deep velvet voice purred.
My cheeks tingled. “Really? I was a train wreck. I drank too much, fought with Nick about cheating on me with Stacia, and called her hateful names in front of a whole crowd of people. Not to mention, I was a total jerk to you, and I made you trespass at Ziggy’s car lot.”
“Nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to do. And, if I’m being truthful, you intrigued me the first moment I set eyes on you, with your feisty little attitude, demanding you had every right to be at our crime scene.”
“Um, I had every right. Remember, it’s my shop.”
“You were so combative. It was a real turn-on.”
I nudged him. “Oh stop!”
“Best of all, the camo boots. Buttercup, you had me at those boots,” he said, tilting my head up toward his and kissing me like it was his last mission on earth.
I WOKE TO MUSIC PLAYING somewhere in the room. George Strait’s Amarillo By Morning.
Are we still at Little Bob’s? I thought, opening my eyes. I listened. The tune continued. Glancing around, I realized I was in Jackson’s bedroom.
“Where’s the music coming from?” My morning voice croaked like a frog.
“It’s your cell phone ringing.” Jackson rolled over, his dark eyes sleepy.
I inhaled, smelling clean cotton and his warm musky scent.
“My phone doesn’t play George Strait for phone calls.”
“It does now. Don’t you remember? At Little Bob’s, you changed it to your ringtone.” He snickered. “I believe you said, ‘Dude, this is my song!’”
I cringed, wrinkling my nose. “I called you dude?”
He nodded.
The music stopped.
I buried my head against his chest, breathing him in. “Sorry.”
He ruffled my hair. “No need to apologize. Like I said last night, you were cute.”
I tipped my head upward, my nose meeting his. “You said adorable. FYI, I’m not a fan of the word cute. I prefer sexy, hot, pretty, even adorable works. But cute makes me feel like a ladybug or something.”
His dark eyes shimmered in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. I traced the shape of his tribal tattoo from his tricep to his shoulder. He shuddered under my touch. I smiled, enjoying how I affected him.
“Still think I’m cute?”
He nodded. “Like a ladybug.”
I swatted at him playfully.
“What did the male ladybug say to his mate?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Hey, red, I’m digging those sexy spots.”
George crooned about getting to Amarillo again. “I guess I’d better answer it. Remind me to change the ringtone.” I rolled over, searching for my phone. I spotted it on his dresser. Jumping up, I stole the top sheet and ran to catch it before the caller hung up.
“Hello?”
“Steels, I need you up at the urgent care center. And, if you’re with Jackson, bring him,” Pop’s voice said.
“What’s wrong?” I glanced at Jackson as he sat up in bed.
“Just get here quick.” Pop disconnected the call.
I dropped the phone, thankfully, on his carpeted floor, and sunk to my knees. It had to be the baby. Tears blurred my vision, and I heard Cuff’s voice in my head.
Gotta pee, Chiquita.
Jackson flew from the bed, landing next to me. “What?”
I peered into his face, unable to focus. “We need to get to the clinic, now. Something’s wrong with Stoney. I’m guessing the baby.”
He helped me off the floor. “You get dressed. I’ll put the dogs in the backyard. We leave in five.” He nudged me toward the bathroom.
I peed, realizing my packed bag still sat in Jackson’s car. I yanked on my jeans and red sweater from last night, zipped up my boots, ran cold water through my tousled red tufts, and used the spare toothbrush. I heard the backdo
or close.
“Two minutes!” Jackson yelled from the bedroom. “I’ll go use the half-bath up front.”
I grabbed my cell phone, my handbag, let the dogs back in, and waited near the front door.
Chiquita, what is it? You look scared.
“I am, little buddy. Something’s wrong with Stoney. We’ll be back later.”
Jackson burst from the bathroom, still buttoning his red and black flannel, grabbed his keys, and we were out the door.
“SHE’S GONE,” POP SAID, pacing the lobby of the urgent care clinic.
I tossed up my hands. “What do you mean, gone?”
Pop squinted his eyes, his lower lip trembling. “I mean like gone! Out of here! Left! Hell, I don’t know!”
I took a minute and counted to ten. I didn’t deserve his outrage, but I understood where it was coming from. Fear.
Observing the unstable situation, Jackson took over for me. “Mr. Lamarr, did you call the chief?”
Pop switched his explosive expression to Jackson. “I did. He says he’ll get someone down here to see the hospital security video. But he’s not acting fast enough. My daughter is missing!”
“Pop, calm down,” I said, instantly knowing I’d made a huge error.
“Calm down?” Pop said, his hands shaking. “Would you calm down if the nurses gave you this and said your daughter left with a strange man?” He shoved a card in my hand.
I knew what I held before I opened it. A card from Stoney’s stalker.
“Read it, then tell me to calm down,” Pop said, storming off toward the floor to ceiling windows.
Jackson and I read the card together.
On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine bibs for feeding, eight bottles for milking, seven baby sleepers, six baby booties, five teething rings, four baby hats, three baby rattles, two tiny mittens, and a teddy bear in an oak tree. Love, your Secret Santa
On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, ten cups for sipping, nine bibs for feeding, eight bottles for milking, seven baby sleepers, six baby booties, five teething rings, four baby hats, three baby rattles, two tiny mittens, and a teddy bear in an oak tree. Love, your Secret Santa
I planned on waiting the whole 12 days before I took the little mama, but her showing up here, unattended, away from her protective father and meddling sister, well, it was too good of an opportunity to miss. I took her gifts for days nine and ten, but you can keep the card as a farewell souvenir.
The blood curdled in my veins as Pop marched over to us.
“Well? You still think I should calm down?” With a stern look Pop stabbed his fists on his hips. He set his jaw hard, the veins pulsing in his neck.
“There’s no need to wait. I can make this security video thing happen right now.” Jackson wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s talk to the nursing staff.”
We huddled around the nurses station, listening.
“He had light hair, some facial fuzz, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he wore a black jacket, jeans, a ball cap, and dark boots. I really didn’t pay too much attention,” a young male nurse said. “Just a lot of black.”
“A patient just walks out with some guy, and you didn’t pay attention?” Pop growled.
“Mr. Lamarr, your daughter is thirty-one years old—in charge of her own medical care—and her doctor said she could leave in the morning if she was ready,” a female nurse replied.
Pop shook his head and pinched his lips tight, his temper near boiling point.
My mind whirled and I found it difficult to string two thoughts together. Jackson’s brows furrowed. He held up his badge.
“Does the clinic have security cameras?”
“Yes,” both nurses said in unison.
“Well, we need to see the footage,” Jackson said, directing his focus on the female nurse. He flashed her his dimples. “Can you help us with that?”
She nodded her head, her mouth turning up into a smile so sweet, it could cause a cavity. “Y’all can follow me.”
We walked behind Pop, who was hot on the nurse’s heels. I nudged Jackson’s arm.
“Was flirting with her necessary?”
“Did it work?”
“Yes.” I didn’t agree with his tactics, but his dimples got the job done.
The security officer pulled the footage we needed. The three of us glued our eyes to the black and white video as we witnessed a man lead Stoney out of the front doors of the clinic. Unfortunately, the camera facing the doors only showed their backs, and although we identified Stoney, the man’s backside didn’t give us much to go on. One thing was clear. Even with the ball cap pulled down low, the man’s light-colored hair stuck out from underneath. He had light brown or blond hair. And something about the way this guy moved—the way he walked—seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.
“Dammit!” Pop said, stabbing a hand through his hair.
“Can you run it again?” Jackson asked, moving closer to the screen.
The guard nodded and replayed the grainy film.
“Stop, right there.” Jackson pointed to the man. “At first glance, it appears he’s leading her, but right there, it shows his hand is gripping her elbow and forcing her. She didn’t go willingly. I’m calling Becker.” Jackson stepped out of the tiny room.
The security officer glanced up at us. “I saw them walk out together, but there didn’t seem to be a struggle. From my view, it looked like two people leaving together, arm in arm.” He looked back toward the screen. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said, staring at my sister’s image on pause. My stomach churned and a wave of panic rushed through me. We needed to find her quickly. “Thank you for letting us see the film. C’mon, Pop.”
Jackson searched her room at the clinic, but the staff had already cleaned it. Someone had left the card at the nurses station with Pop’s name on it, Chief Lamarr. It’d been years since my father was the chief of the Buckleville PD. The reference on the envelope gave us a good sign of who’d taken her, and who’d been responsible for the creepy gifts. The same man who’d picked her up on the side of the highway all those years ago, the same man who’d manipulated, drugged, and trafficked her, and the same man whose baby she now carried.
“Pop, remember when you told us about who sent you the photos of Stoney this past summer?”
“Vividly.” Sitting ridged on a chair in the clinic lobby, Pop wrung his hands together.
“And the young girl living with Stoney told you she’d sent them because she knew Stoney was in trouble with the men holding them captive. Did she say anything else we could use?”
He took a deep breath and let it out before answering. “Yes. She said when she’d overheard the men discussing what to do with Stoney, one man, I’m guessing the one who has her now, said I’d done him wrong when I was chief of police, and he was getting revenge by using Stoney. I believe the guy’s plans were to kill her had we not rescued her when we did.”
“Even though she was carrying his child?”
“I don’t think he cared, but...” his voice trailed off.
“But what?”
Pop fixed his worried eyes on mine, and with defeat heavy in his voice, he said, “He cares now. And, I think he’s been watching her since she’s been home, or had eyes on her, from somewhere here in Buckleville.”
His words chilled me to the bone.
Chapter 25
An hour later, the two of us sat on the edge of our chairs as we held hands in Chief Becker’s office. Jackson, Lieutenant Nick Campbell, and several officers lined one wall of the office. Chief Becker cleared his throat to capture everyone’s attention.
“First, let me say to the Lamarr family, you have my deepest regrets this has happened. I hope you believe the department will do everything in its power to find Stoney.”
Pop’s arm stiffened underneath mine. He probably wanted to dispute, but he held his tongue. Thank goodness. As the form
er chief, my father had the notion that there could always be more done in situations such as this one. I silently commended him for keeping quiet, although it was probably Mama who’d reached down with her invisible fingers and pinched his lips shut. Acknowledging a job well done, I patted my locket.
“Thank you, sir.” I spoke for both of us.
Out of the corner of my eye, Pop’s lower jaw shifted to the right side. I squeezed his hand, and I felt his body relax.
“I’m not sure if either of you has seen this morning’s paper, but we have the sketch Ms. O’Reilly did on the front page. If that man is in Buckleville, or the surrounding area, odds are someone’s seen him. I’ve reviewed the clinic’s surveillance footage Officer Jackson emailed me, and I’m convinced the unidentified male took her against her will,” Chief Becker said, sitting up tall in his chair.
“Have you given any thought to the sketch being the reason my daughter is missing? Maybe he saw it, took her, and ran.” Pop’s grip on my hand tightened.
“One thing I find peculiar, the man in the video footage from the hospital security camera shows a man with light-colored hair under a ball cap. But the sketch Ms. O’Reilly made shows a man with dark hair. Now, not that folks can’t change their hair color, but it sure makes things more confusing, especially since we can’t see the man’s face in the video.”
“May we see the sketch?” I asked, intervening.
Chief Becker slid today’s edition of the Buckleville Banner our direction. I leaned forward, lifting the paper for a better view. Even though it was a pencil sketch and printed in black and white, I knew those eyes, but from where? Something in the sketch’s facial expression looked familiar too. The man in the sketch roughly resembled Kramer, but without the scar. Same dark hair, same eyes, similar nose. Stoney never mentioned a scar.
Beside me, Pop studied the sketch. Without a word, he let my hand free, put his together, and popped his knuckles. I sensed his anxiety rising.
“Chief Becker, to me the sketch resembles Jason Kramer a lot,” I said, my hands trembling. I set the paper on the desk in front of me and folded my hands in my lap. I glanced up at Jackson, and he nodded. “I realize how crazy it sounds since he was in jail this week. But the faces are very similar. The shape of the face. And the eyes. Except...” I paused, examining the sketch.