by Laura Scott
And now they were partners, working together to find Gary and her stalker.
She tore her gaze away, forcing herself to look out the window. It had been her idea to get Melissa’s purse from hospital security, but she knew very well that she and Max weren’t exactly partners. She was more of a liability than a help. He was going along with her wishes just to keep her safe.
Lieutenant Max Forrester was an honorable man. In more ways than one.
She sighed. As much as she admired Max, she was beginning to realize he could never be more than a friend. Not just because she’d loved Ted and wasn’t interested in replacing him. And not just because Max was only in town for a short while, scheduled to return to Iraq in nineteen days.
But because every time she mentioned God, faith or prayer, he tensed up, looked away or changed the subject. He’d never come right out and said he didn’t believe in God, but she sensed he wasn’t open to the concept.
She stared down at her entwined hands. Was this part of God’s plan for her? To help Max understand and believe? And if so, how would she even begin? They didn’t have a lot of spare time on their hands; in fact they’d hardly had time to eat and sleep.
Max was under pressure to find Gary, which was very understandable. And she wanted to help. Yet she couldn’t ignore God’s mission, either.
“Here’s the Harwood apartment complex,” Max said, breaking into her thoughts. “Help me find the 400 building.”
She peered out the window. “There, the even numbered buildings are on the right. Second one down should be the 400 building.”
“I see it.” Max pulled into a vacant parking space marked for visitors, looking around with frank admiration. “These are pretty nice, quite a step up from where Lissa lives.”
“I noticed.” She frowned, wondering what job Peggy Sue had gotten that allowed her to live in luxury. “Strange, since Annie claimed Peggy Sue was fired from the restaurant last week.”
Max nodded but didn’t respond. He went to the front door and buzzed Peggy Sue’s apartment. When her voice came over the intercom, Max explained who he was. The door clicked loudly as Peggy Sue unlocked it.
Peggy Sue was waiting for them inside. She was young and scantily dressed in a miniskirt and skintight white top.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us,” Max said, not seeming to notice the woman’s attire, which belonged on a beach, not in St. Louis in November.
“No problem. Come on in. Would you like something to drink?” Peggy Sue might be a tad underdressed for November, but she was trying to be a good hostess.
“Nothing for me. We just finished eating lunch.” Max took a seat on the sofa, and Tara sat beside him.
“Your message said Melissa was hurt and in the hospital ICU.” Peggy Sue sat down on the chair across from them. “You think Gary put her there?”
“Yes, we do.” Max’s tone didn’t give any room for doubt. “What can you tell me about him?”
“He seemed to have a lot of money,” Peggy Sue said, reinforcing Tara’s concern that money was part of the reason Melissa had gone back to him. “He was always buying Melissa gifts, jewelry, flowers, little weekend getaways.”
Max’s lips thinned as if he wasn’t thrilled with the news. “Do you know where he worked? Or what his last name was?”
Peggy Sue lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Tara swallowed her protest, since it was Peggy Sue’s apartment. “No, he was pretty quiet when it came to talking about himself. I met him a couple of times, and I have to say I wasn’t impressed. I mean, maybe he had some money, but with that scar of his, he wasn’t very good-looking.”
Max exchanged a surprised glance with her and then turned back toward Peggy Sue. “Scar? What kind of scar?”
“On his face, right here,” Peggy Sue drew a scarlet-tipped nail down from the corner of the right side of her mouth down to the lower edge of her jaw. “It was deep and made him look like he was frowning.”
Tara shivered a little, wondering if Gary had gotten into a fight to end up with such a disfiguring scar.
“Did he have any other distinguishing marks? Like tattoos or piercings?” Max persisted.
Peggy Sue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure he had a tattoo on his bicep, but I never saw the whole thing, so I couldn’t tell you what the design was.”
“Right or left arm?” Max asked.
Peggy Sue rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the picky one? How should I know? Left arm, I think. Does it matter? Isn’t the scar on his face enough? There can’t be that many men with a deep scar running down the side of their face.”
“You’ve been a great help,” Max said, soothing her ruffled ego. “Annie described him as having short reddish-brown hair. Is that what you remember?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Peggy Sue raised one eyebrow. “So, is that it? That’s all you need to know? Because I have to leave soon to go to work.”
“Where do you work?” Tara asked, giving in to her curiosity. “We heard you don’t work at the restaurant anymore.”
Peggy Sue barked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. The tips at that joint were peanuts compared to what I make at the strip club, so I stopped going. Too bad about Melissa being in the hospital, because I was going to put in a good word for her so she could get a job with me. I told her she didn’t need Gary to buy her things, she can buy her own things once she was making more money.”
Tara sucked in a harsh breath, glancing at Max, whose expression turned grim. But he didn’t say anything to antagonize their hostess; he simply stood, rising to his feet. “You’re right. My sister doesn’t need Gary to buy her things. Thanks again for your help, Peggy Sue. We really appreciate your help with Gary.”
“I feel bad about Melissa,” Peggy Sue said. “Tell her to come see me when she’s feeling better.”
“Sure.” Max smiled and held out his hand.
Peggy Sue slipped a business card into his palm as she took his hand. “Stop by later, if you have time. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have time, but thanks for the offer,” Max said, letting her down gently. From the mild distaste in his look, Tara didn’t think he was the type who went to strip clubs.
And why that made her happy, she had no idea. He might be a nice guy, but he didn’t believe in God.
They left Peggy Sue’s apartment. Outside, she took a deep breath, clearing the smoke from her lungs. “She was nice in her own way,” she said as they headed toward his rental car.
“At least she gave us a few more details to go by,” Max agreed. “But she’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to let Lissa work with her at some strip club.”
While she understood his sentiments, he wasn’t going to be around to control what his sister did and didn’t do. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s concentrate on finding Gary. Peggy Sue’s description was helpful, but we should really try to find Melissa’s cell phone, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. The picture would be something to take to the cops, anyway,” Max muttered, still upset by Peggy Sue’s comments. “Then maybe Newton will make Lissa’s case a higher priority.”
“And so he should,” Tara said. She wondered again about that scar. “Do you think the scar is enough to make Gary camera shy? Maybe we’re wrong about him being wanted by the police.”
“I don’t know,” Max said slowly. “Maybe. But I can’t get over the idea that he’s trying to lay low for some other reason than pure vanity.”
She had to agree. The guy Melissa’s coworkers had described didn’t seem like he’d be vain about his scar. Especially not if he was throwing money around. And if he had a lot of money, why not get his scar fixed? None of this was making any sense.
Was he involved in buying or selling drugs? Was that how Melissa had met him? Even if Gary was selling drugs, that didn’t exactly help as far as finding him.
When they arrived at Melissa’s apartment building, Max led the wa
y inside, using his sister’s keys to unlock the front door, and then again upstairs when they reached her apartment. He had to jiggle the key a bit to get it to work, and when the door swung open, he stopped abruptly in the doorway.
Tara gasped when she saw the mess. A plant was knocked over, the base cracked and broken, dirt spilled all over the floor. A picture of a seascape hung crookedly on the wall. A broken lamp was tipped on its side, and a rust-colored smudge on the wall next to the door looked as if it might be blood.
Melissa’s blood.
She could all too easily imagine how Melissa had fought with Gary, knocking over the plant in her desperate need to get away.
A low tortured sound came from Max’s throat, and Tara grabbed his arm, hoping to keep him grounded. Seeing this had to be much worse for him.
“Max, don’t. We already knew Melissa was hurt here. We should have realized the place would still be a mess.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t even glance at her. Every muscle in his body was tense as if he wanted to break away from her grasp and punch something. Or someone.
Like Gary.
“Maybe we should call the police,” she said in a calm voice. “Officer Newton should see this. Maybe they can find some fingerprints here.”
“He should have already seen this place, they were called to the scene when she was taken to the hospital, weren’t they?” Max pointed out in a low, clipped tone.
“Yes, I guess you’re right.”
Finally Max’s tense muscles relaxed and he took a deep breath. She was amazed at how well he’d pulled himself together. “Let’s go. Watch your step,” Max directed, taking her hand in his. “Try not to disturb anything.”
With his help, she was able to leap over the mess in the doorway. Curiously, she glanced around. The rest of Melissa’s apartment wasn’t exactly neat and tidy. There were a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and an empty pizza box and beer cans strewn all over the kitchen counter. A thin layer of dust covered the surfaces.
“You take her bedroom,” she suggested. “I’ll take the living room and kitchen.”
Max nodded. “Holler if you find her phone.”
Splitting up wasn’t a bad strategy, but as she poked through Melissa’s things, she began to wonder if there really was a phone containing a picture of Gary. Maybe Gary had already found it and erased it? Maybe the guy really had disappeared without a trace?
The phone wasn’t on any of the tables or the tiny desk littered with papers. Could the picture on the phone have been part of their fight? She sat down on the sofa, wondering if Melissa and Gary had fought after eating the pizza or if the boxes were left from days earlier.
Something small lying on the floor beside the living room table caught her eyes. She bent down and picked it up. A matchbook. The cover was embossed with the words, Under the Beam.
Melissa had mentioned Gary smoked, but she knew Melissa didn’t. As she glanced around the room, there wasn’t a single candle in sight.
A thrill of hope surged. This matchbook was likely left by Gary. And if so, Under the Beam might be a place where they could find him.
EIGHT
Max stared at the matchbook Tara had shown him. It was identical to the one he’d found in Lissa’s purse. “Under the Beam? I’ve never heard of it. Have you?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” she said, a frown puckered in her brow. “You don’t think…” Tara’s voice trailed off but, he could guess what she’d thought.
“That it’s the strip club where Peggy Sue works?” he asked in a wry tone. “I don’t know, maybe.” He couldn’t even imagine Lissa going into such a place. “Actually, to be honest, it sounds more like a pub or a restaurant than a strip club.”
“Maybe the matchbook doesn’t have anything to do with Gary at all,” Tara murmured in a dejected tone. “I guess I was just hoping we’d find another clue since her cell phone isn’t anywhere to be found.”
“She had this same matchbook in her purse, so it could definitely be a clue. We have to check it out.” Max didn’t want to give up hope. Not yet. Even if it seemed like every time they took one step forward they slid backward for two more. “Where could her cell phone be?”
“I think Gary has it.”
He had to agree. The only thing he’d found in Lissa’s bedroom was the picture on her dresser. It was taken before he’d gone into the service. He and Lissa and their father were standing together, smiling brightly into the camera.
Who would have thought that merely a year later he’d be sent to Iraq and his father would die of a massive heart attack? He’d been glad to see Lissa had kept the picture, a small keepsake of happier times.
Max sank down onto the sofa next to Tara. From everything he’d heard about Lissa, she’d changed in the years he’d been gone. Or at the very least, she’d made some poor choices.
What had happened? Had being alone after their father had died been too much for her? Now more than ever he wished he could have been here for Lissa. Maybe if he had, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was in.
“I think you’re right,” he said finally. “Gary must have taken the phone. Unless the police have it, which I think is doubtful.” Newton hadn’t mentioned having Lissa’s phone.
“I wonder if the cell-phone picture is what started the fight?” Tara mused.
He didn’t want to think about his sister being attacked by this guy. Not just once but several times. “Tara, you’re Lissa’s social worker, right?”
She tensed, straightening her spine. “Yes.”
“Why?” He swiveled so he could look at her directly. “Why did Lissa need a social worker? Just because of the abuse?”
She bit her lip and twisted her slim, ringless fingers together. He was oddly glad she didn’t still wear her dead husband’s wedding ring. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you.”
His brows shot upward. “What do you mean that you can’t tell me?”
“Max.” She lifted a pleading gaze to his. “Please don’t ask me. I’m bound by the federal privacy laws to keep all personal client information confidential, so I can’t tell you.”
He clenched his fingers, taking a deep breath to remain calm. So what if Tara was bound by the government’s privacy laws? This was his sister’s life they were fighting for. He couldn’t believe she’d let him run into one dead end after another, when she might know something that could help them.
He glanced over at her, only slightly mollified when he saw the troubled anxiety in her eyes. She was clearly torn between duty to her job and wanting to help him.
“Tara, I need you to tell me if there is any information that you have about Lissa that will help me find Gary.”
Her torturous expression made him feel guilty. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s not good enough,” he snapped, losing his temper. “I need to know for certain that you’re not jeopardizing my investigation.”
“Your investigation? I thought this was a police matter.” Tara rose to her feet and took several steps, putting distance between them.
Did she expect him to lash out physically like Gary did? The thought deflated his anger like a popped balloon.
“I can’t tell you any details about your sister’s case—end of discussion. Are you ready to go? Or do you want to look around the apartment some more?”
He dropped his head into his hands and took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling like a lowlife for even giving the impression he was anything like Gary. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Scare me?” she echoed in a confused tone. “What are you talking about? Max?” She waited for him to look at her. “Did you really think I was afraid of you just because you were upset with me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”
“We’re both under a fair amount of stress right now. I think you’re entitled to get upset on occasion.”
Tara was really something. Not on
ly wasn’t she angry with him but she let him off the hook much quicker than he deserved. He glanced down at the matchbook. Under the Beam. He needed her cell phone, with a number or a picture of Gary. Something solid he could take to Newton to jump-start the investigation, not a matchbook that could mean nothing.
“Let’s go,” he said, standing and heading toward the door. “We can use the computer at the hotel to do a search on this place.”
“Max.” Tara stayed where she was, between the sofa and the desk. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her gaze was pleading. “You need to understand that if it comes down to a matter of life or death I will tell you what I know.”
He stared at her for a long moment, before giving a brief nod. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
Tara was exhausted. The short catnap she’d taken in the car earlier hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t gone so long without sleep since Ted’s illness.
Remembering how she’d woken up to find Max’s face hovering over her made her cheeks flush. Had he watched her sleep for long? How embarrassing.
Max’s phone rang again, and she wondered who the caller was this time. She was surprised when he handed the phone to her. “It’s for you.”
“For me?” She lifted the cell phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Ms. Carmichael? Detective Graham here. We have Tyrone Adams in custody. Will you come down to the station for a few minutes?”
“I think I can. Just a minute.” She put her hand over the speaker and turned to Max. “They have Tyrone in custody and want me to come down to the station.”
Max didn’t hesitate. “Tell him we’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She repeated what Max had said, before closing the phone and handing it back to him. “I wonder why they want me to come down to the station.”
Max shrugged and slid the cell phone back into his pocket. “I don’t know. Maybe they need you to validate pieces of his story. He is your client, after all.”