No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  “You could be right. Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

  “I hope so. We need a lucky break. Oh, that’s the doorbell. See you in a few hours.”

  “Bye, Damien!” a chorus of female voices cooed in the background.

  Damien chuckled and flipped the phone shut just as the school’s dismissal bell rang. A few minutes later a swarm of noisy adolescents, shepherded by two teachers, erupted from the old brick building, spilling through the double glass doors and charging toward school buses lined at the curb or cars parked in the designated pick-up zone.

  His cell phone rang again and he answered, keeping an eye out for India as he gave Mayhew a quick update on Corbin Farris, then listened to the detective gripe about Spencer and Madison Thorndike, who had hung around the police station long after Odem was released, demanding to know why the only suspect in their daughter’s kidnapping was not spending the night in jail.

  Damien smiled suddenly, his spirits lifting as he watched his daughter emerge from the building, flanked by two of her best friends. He wracked his brain for a moment before retrieving their names—Dominique and Janay.

  As he watched, the girls waved at India and headed off to their bus, and India scanned the crowded parking lot before spotting Damien. Her face lit up, but before she could step off the curb, a tall, heavyset white man wearing a brown porkpie hat and a brown wool coat approached her.

  Damien’s smile faded. The muscles in the back of his neck instinctively tightened. He muttered something to Mayhew and disconnected, carelessly tossing aside the cell phone.

  India eyed the stranger warily as he asked her a question. She shook her head and said something Damien couldn’t make out.

  Slowly the man lifted his head and looked straight in Damien’s direction.

  A chill ran through him.

  Before he knew it, he was out of the SUV and charging across the big parking lot, his mouth dry, his heart thudding with fear. A horn blared at him as he bolted out in front of a car, causing the driver to slam on her brakes. He hardly noticed, his gaze focused on his daughter and the strange man standing beside her.

  Damn it, where are the teachers!

  “India!” he called.

  He swore savagely as a blue Mercury Mountaineer suddenly pulled out in front of him, cutting his daughter from his line of sight. He raced around the truck impatiently, adrenaline surging through his veins, pulse pounding in his ears, throat locked with panic.

  By the time he neared the front entrance, wending his way through a row of idling school buses, the stranger was gone. Vanished into thin air.

  Damien reached India, hauled her into his arms, and crushed her against him.

  “Hey, Daddy!” she greeted him, cheerfully oblivious, her voice muffled against his midsection as she wrapped her little arms around him and hugged him back.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. As he drew back from her, his sharp, searching gaze swept the crowded parking lot before returning to his daughter. “Who was that man you were talking to?”

  India shrugged dispassionately. “I don’t know. He asked me if I knew a girl named Lynette. He said he was her father and he was looking for her. I told him I didn’t know anyone by that name.” She eyed her father curiously. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

  “Yeah,” Damien lied, still shaken. “I just don’t like seeing you talking to strangers. You know the rules.”

  “I know, but he caught me by surprise.”

  You and me both, kiddo.

  Damien lifted his head and looked around again, encountering the speculative gaze of a teacher who had witnessed his mad sprint across the parking lot. She stood less than ten feet away, directing students to their buses. The principal stood in the doorway, smiling as a procession of laughing children filed past her and out of the building. When she caught Damien’s eye, her smile widened with pleasure and she waved.

  “Hello, Mr. Wade! It’s good to see you again!”

  Damien inclined his head with a brief smile. As he turned away, he told himself that India had never been in any danger. He’d let his jagged nerves get the best of him.

  Yet he couldn’t shake the whisper of unease that had crawled down his spine when he saw the stranger talking to India. And he couldn’t dismiss the chill of foreboding that lanced through his heart when the man lifted his head and looked right at him. As if he already knew exactly where Damien was parked.

  Frowning, Damien took his daughter’s small hand and murmured, “Come on, let’s go.”

  Once they were inside the SUV and heading away from the middle school, India asked, “Where’s Ms. Pritchard?”

  “She had to go home for a while.”

  “Oh.” India turned her head to stare out the window, but Damien could sense that she wanted to say more.

  He waited.

  Finally she spoke. “You like her.”

  Damien slanted her an amused look. “How can you tell?”

  “The way you were looking at her this morning. The way you chased her around the kitchen.” India sighed, a sound of long-suffering. “You reminded me of the way boys at school act when they like a girl.”

  Damien laughed. “That bad, huh?”

  She turned her head to grin at him. “It wasn’t bad. It was just, well, funny. I’ve never seen you like that before.” She paused, frowning. “Not even with Mom.”

  Damien said nothing. He saw no point in denying it.

  After another moment, India said sagely, “But you don’t have to worry. ’Cause she likes you, too.”

  Damien chuckled, his heart giving an irrational little leap. “You think so, huh?”

  “Definitely. I saw the way she was staring at you when she thought you weren’t looking. She definitely has a thing for you, Daddy.”

  Damien’s mind flashed on last night, and the way Althea had closed her eyes in anticipation when she thought he was going to kiss her.

  And then he remembered the scene he’d stumbled upon between her and Malik Toomer that morning, and he scowled.

  “It’s okay if you decide to marry her.”

  Damien choked out a laugh. “What? How’d we jump from liking to marriage?”

  “I’m just saying. It would be okay with me if you wanted to marry her. Remember how I told you the other night that you needed a wife?”

  Damien nodded.

  “Well, if you really like Ms. Pritchard, you should marry her.”

  He smiled. “I wish it were that simple, baby girl.”

  “Why isn’t it?”

  “Because grown-ups make things a lot more complicated than they sometimes have to be,” he said softly, half to himself.

  India fell silent, contemplating his words.

  Damien gave her a sidelong glance. “What did you think of Ms. Pritchard?”

  “She seems nice. Smart. Tough, too. I liked her.” She turned her head to stare out the window at the passing streets of East Baltimore. “I used to wish you and Mom would get back together, but more and more I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She hesitated, gnawing her bottom lip. “I heard you arguing this morning.”

  Damien winced, remembering the coarse, angry barbs he and Angelique had exchanged in his bedroom. “Sweetheart, I’m—”

  “It’s okay. I was downstairs, so I didn’t hear what you said. I just heard your raised voices.” She gazed at him with those big dark eyes that were too intuitive for her years. “I think you were right,” she said solemnly.

  “About what?”

  “You and Mom are better off apart from each other than you are together.”

  Damien hesitated, then reached over and gently brushed his knuckle across her cheek. “You hungry? I thought we could stop at Fuddruckers on our way to Grandma’s, for old times’ sake.”

  Her expression brightened. “Cheeseburgers! Yum! I could eat a—” She broke off abruptly, frowning in confusion. “Wait a minute. Why are you dropping me off at Grandma’s? I thought we were going home? To your house?�
�

  Damien felt a fresh stab of guilt. “Not tonight, baby girl. I’m sorry. I have to work late.”

  Her frown deepened. “Are you doing another stakeout?”

  He nodded. “We’re trying to find out who took Claire Thorndike, the girl who’s been missing. I know you’re disappointed, sweetheart, but I promise to make it up to you.”

  India cast her eyes downward. “Will you be home tomorrow night?”

  His heart constricted. “I’m going to try my best.”

  After a prolonged moment of silence, India heaved a sigh of resignation. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  She nodded somberly. “If I were missing, I would want everyone to do their best to find me. That means daddies, too.”

  Damien smiled tenderly at his daughter. “I know Claire would appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for her, baby girl.”

  “She probably would.” India paused, then added thoughtfully, “I hope you find her soon, so she can thank me.”

  Damien’s answering laughter was bittersweet.

  Chapter 25

  The idyllic, picturesque fishing hamlet of Solomon’s Island was nestled between the Patuxent River and the Chesapeake Bay in Calvert County, Maryland. It was after nightfall by the time Althea and Damien crept into town, driving through quiet streets where lights glowed invitingly in the windows of quaint Victorian houses and cozy B and Bs. Merchants had closed their storefront shops and headed off to home and hearth, fishermen had unloaded the day’s catches and docked their boats for the night, and tourists had retreated to their warm lodgings.

  Patrick Farris lived on a remote oasis along the river, in a white clapboard house with blue shutters that backed to the water. Across the bank, hidden behind a cluster of live oaks that would not lose their thick leaves for another five weeks, Althea and Damien sat in a dark, nondescript sedan, their binoculars trained on the darkened house across the river. They had been there for more than two hours, and so far there had been no movement inside the house or around the property, and the driveway remained empty.

  “Where are you hiding, Corbin Farris?” Althea muttered half to herself. “More to the point, why are you hiding?”

  Beside her, Damien said nothing as he shifted slightly in the driver’s seat. His legs were so long he’d had to push the seat back as far as it would go, and it still didn’t seem like he had enough room.

  “Maybe he won’t show,” Althea speculated. “Maybe he knows we’re onto him.”

  “Maybe,” Damien murmured.

  Slowly lowering her binoculars, Althea said, “I’ve been thinking about another angle involving Corbin. What if he’s not blackmailing Suzette Thorndike? What if he wants something other than money from her?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, if they were lovers, maybe he fell in love with her. Maybe he became obsessed with her, and that’s why she ended the affair. Maybe the phone conversation Claire overheard was Corbin trying to coerce Suzette into resuming their relationship. When she refused, he became angry and decided to kidnap Claire.”

  “Why take Claire? Why not Suzette?”

  “Because Suzette rejected him. And maybe in his warped little mind, Claire represents the Suzette he met ten years ago. She married Patrick Farris when she was eighteen years old. Claire’s almost eighteen, and you and I have already noted that she’s practically the spitting image of Suzette. So maybe Corbin decided if he couldn’t have Suzette, he’d take the next best thing. Maybe he’s twisted enough to think he can somehow make Claire fall in love with him.”

  “And if he can’t,” Damien muttered grimly, “then God help her.”

  Althea said nothing. A fine chill swept through her at the thought of the young girl—alone, terrified, at the complete mercy of a dangerous madman obsessed with her stepmother. What would he do to Claire if she refused him? If she showed fear or revulsion? Would he become so enraged that he would rape her, torture her? Kill her?

  Or had he already done those things?

  She shuddered at the unspeakable thought, drawing Damien’s gaze to her. “Are you cold? I can turn up the heat.”

  She shook her head, staring out the window. “I’m fine.”

  A sliver of moon could be glimpsed through thick clouds that rolled across the night sky. Fog skimmed off the surface of the water and floated past like ghosts. There were several boats docked at piers up and down the river, belonging to the inhabitants of the small clapboard houses that rimmed the bay. The chilly night air had grown heavy with a thick mist that threatened to become rain. Althea hoped it wouldn’t rain. It would be hard to continue surveillance on the dark house with sheets of water sluicing down the windshield, decreasing visibility.

  Setting aside his binoculars, Damien reached for his thermos and unscrewed the lid. The strong, fragrant aroma of hot coffee filled the interior of the car. He took a long sip. “Have you figured out which of your books is missing?”

  Althea shook her head. “I’m going to set aside some time tomorrow evening to rearrange the bookcase. There are hundreds of books, most of which I haven’t read in years. I can’t tell what was taken, whether it was fiction or nonfiction.” She lifted the binoculars to her face again. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there isn’t a book missing. Maybe it just looked like there was an empty space on the shelf now that the books are arranged differently.”

  She didn’t have to see Damien’s face to know he was scowling at her. “You need to take this more seriously,” he growled.

  “I am. Believe me, the idea of someone skulking around my apartment when I wasn’t home or sometime in the middle of the night is nothing to take lightly. But the more I think about it, the more unlikely it seems. As I already told you, I checked the front door and windows; the locks were in place and there was no sign of forced entry. The only way someone could have gotten inside my apartment without my knowledge is if he—or she—had a key. And I just don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Damien muttered darkly. “Have you spoken to the building management about the shoddy security?”

  “Yes. I called them this afternoon, and I was assured that they’re handling the matter and will be speaking to the front desk attendant about doing a better job of enforcing security. Apparently they’ve also received some complaints about people’s cars getting broken into in the parking lot. Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that all visitors to the building will have to sign in from now on.”

  Damien nodded shortly. “Glad to hear it.”

  Althea leaned back on the headrest, her mouth curving in a soft little smile as she gazed at him. “Despite the impression I may have given you, Mr. Wade, I do appreciate your concern for me. I don’t want you to think I’m an ingrate.”

  “Too late.”

  She laughed. “You’re so mean!”

  His lips twitched. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “Not by anyone at the office, I’ll bet. Everyone seems to adore you. I think the office service manager has a serious crush on you. Have you noticed the way she stares at you whenever she sees you coming down the hall?”

  Damien chuckled. “Don’t be jealous.”

  Althea rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m just burning up with jealousy. It’s so bad I can’t even see straight.” Unbidden, her mind conjured an image of Angelique trailing Damien down the stairs, her hair tousled and her shirt unbuttoned. Althea’s imagination rewound like a videotape, and she saw the couple lying naked in the rumpled king-size bed she’d glimpsed on her way to the guest bathroom. She saw Angelique kissing Damien, touching his sculpted bare chest as he slowly lowered his body over hers and—

  Althea turned toward the window and squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the image. It’s bad enough that you can’t have him. Why torture yourself imagining him with his ex-wife, or any other woman!

  “So what’s the story with you and Toomer?”

  Althea’s eyes flew open. She whipped her head around and
stared at Damien. “Excuse me?”

  He stared back at her, unblinking. “I don’t think I stuttered. What’s up with you and Malik Toomer?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  He just looked at her. The directness of his gaze set her pulse racing.

  She forced a laugh that sounded strangled to her own ears. “With all due respect, Damien, I really don’t think that’s any of your business. Besides, you don’t see me asking you about your ex-wife, who you’re apparently still screwing!”

  The moment the angry words were out of her mouth, she wished she could snatch them back. She could tell by the smoldering gleam in Damien’s dark eyes that she’d said too much. Revealed too much.

  “You think I’m sleeping with Angelique?” he inquired silkily.

  She gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s none of my business. I don’t care.”

  “Liar.”

  Her cheeks flushing, Althea picked up her binoculars to resume watching the house. But before she could lift it to her face, Damien reached over and snatched it out of her hand.

  Her temper flared. “Hey! I’m trying to work here! And that’s the second time today you’ve snatched something out of my hand. I’m getting sick and tired—”

  “I saw the look on your face this morning when you saw Angelique coming down the stairs behind me,” Damien said huskily, searing her with his dark, intense gaze. “I was afraid to interpret it as jealousy, and you played it off so well. But just now,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “you didn’t do such a good job. Don’t tell me you don’t care whether or not I’m sleeping with Angelique, because I know better. And so do you.”

  Althea’s heart was hammering painfully against her rib cage, as if she’d just completed a marathon. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and watched Damien’s heavy-lidded eyes follow the innocent gesture. Her belly quivered in response. The air between them crackled with sexual tension. If a bolt of lightning had struck anywhere near the car at that moment, they both would have gone up in flames.