Ghosts (Vance Davis Dossier #1)

by Heather Huffman

  “Holy hell, Vance. I never would have recognized you.” She came to the end of the porch, studying him but not yet lowering the gun. “What are you doing back here? Last I recall, you were happy to knock the dust of this place off your feet.”

  Vance considered how best to answer. He took a step closer, stopping short when the gun’s barrel raised a notch. “I heard the Barnetts could use a little help. And is there a reason you haven’t put the gun down yet?”

  “How did you hear they needed help?” The gun didn’t lower. If anything, she seemed more wary now than she had before. He considered disarming her for his own comfort but let her be for hers.

  “A friend in the FBI. Do you know where they are?”

  “Henry’s out haying. From the sound of Duke, they’re headed back this way. Probably saw your truck.”

  Vance cast his eyes westward. “I’m assuming Duke’s the dog charging across the field?”

  Allie nodded.

  “Where’s Martha?”

  “Running errands. I’m babysitting while she’s gone.”

  “So they have other foster children here?”

  “You only made them think about throwing in the towel. You didn’t quite bring them all the way to quitting.”

  Vance winced. “I get that you’re pissed…”

  “You always were a quick one.”

  “But have I ever given you reason to think I’d hurt you?” Vance persisted despite her interruption. “For old time’s sake, maybe you could put the gun down and call the dog off.”

  “I’d rather watch you sweat.”

  Vance’s lip twitched. In another time, his reply would have been a flirty one. He took another step closer, emboldened when the gun stayed lax in her arms. “Maybe later I could buy you a beer and let you tell me why it is you’re so mad.”

  “It would probably take a couple.”

  Two steps closer. “Alright, I can spring for two.”

  “That’s big of you.”

  Vance closed the distance between them. Before she could react, he’d secured the shotgun in the crook of his own arm, carrying on the conversation as if nothing had transpired. “I think so—since I truly don’t have the faintest clue what I’ve done wrong, and I’m usually pretty aware of being an ass.”

  “How did you do that?” Allie blinked in confusion.

  “It’s a skill.” Vance tipped her chin up, looking down into her large brown eyes. For a moment, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. The shade of brown was too similar to Harmony’s.

  “You’re not going to kiss me, are you? Because I’m not sure I’d be okay with that.”

  Vance wanted to remark that, considering he’d just had to wrestle a shotgun away from her, he’d kind of assumed she wouldn’t be. Instead, he frowned and shook his head. “Nope. I’m deciding if I can trust you enough to give the gun back.”

  Allie tossed her head back defiantly, making him wonder if she was at least a little perturbed that he hadn’t intended to kiss her. “From the sound of Duke’s bark, you might want to give it back or you’ll have some explaining to do.”

  “I’m not the one who lost my gun.” Nonetheless, he leaned it in a corner out of the way, turning just in time for the dog to round the house and come into view. Vance didn’t flinch, knowing that if the dog sensed his calm, it would be less likely to attack.

  “What’s going on here? Is everything alright, Allison?” The voice was older, harsher maybe, but familiar all the same.

  Vance shifted his gaze from the dog, which had finally stopped barking, to the man. “Hello, Henry.”

  The farmer studied him for a moment, his keen gaze softening as he looked beyond the beard Vance hadn’t bothered to shave, past the added muscle-bulk accumulated since their last meeting, and past the shadow in Vance’s eyes to see the boy he’d once been. Then the farmer did something unexpected: He wrapped Vance in a warm and welcoming embrace. “It’s good to have you home, son.”

  “It’s good to be here, sir.” Once he recovered from the shock, Vance returned the hug.

  Henry pulled back from the embrace, shaking his head as he took Vance in fully. “You’ve changed, boy.”

  Vance rubbed his scruffy face ruefully. “I need to shave.”

  “It’s more than the whiskers. You’ve had quite a journey, haven’t you?” There was knowledge in the kind blue eyes.

  “And then some,” Vance conceded. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Vance has a friend in the FBI; he’s here to help find Nicole,” Allie explained.

  Something in Henry’s expression shifted. “Is that so? I’m glad to hear you wound up on that side of the law.”

  A smile did escape at that one. “Eventually. But I’m more of a consultant.”

  “Let’s not tell Martha about the eventually part. She needs good news today.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Allie retrieved her shotgun and moved toward the front door. “I’d better head back in before the natives get restless. Are you two coming?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we’re coming. I’ll get us all some lemonade,” Henry offered. “Do you still like lemonade, Vance?”

  “Absolutely.” Vance followed Allie inside, stopping short when he realized there were four kids in the living room, ranging from preschool to preteen by his best guess. The youngest two made a beeline for Allie at the sight of a strange man in their midst. If their actions hadn’t been enough to confirm their identities, their faces were. Allie’s children looked startlingly like her.

  “Hey guys. This is Vance. He used to live here with the Barnetts,” Allie said by way of introduction. “Vance, these are my children, Elijah and Grace. And Isabella and Isaac over there are Nicole’s brother and sister.”

  Vance nodded to the older two before looking down at Allie’s children, not taking offense when they pulled in closer to their mother’s legs. He knew from his line of work that he could be a little scary if for no other reason than his size—at least he hoped it was his size and not a scary face. He smiled and waved. “It’s nice to meet you. You know, your mom and I were friends once upon a time.”

  They looked at her to see if he was telling the truth. Vance found himself doing the same. He may have imagined it, but she seemed to hesitate before nodding affirmation. He wondered once again what he’d done to her, deciding maybe Allie’s loyalty to Henry and Martha had tainted her view of him. He reminded himself that her opinion of him was really the least of his problems.

  If Henry picked up on any tension between the old friends, he ignored it, instead ushering Vance to the old butcher block kitchen table that had been there when he was a kid. He poured them each a lemonade then sat down, watching Vance expectantly.

  Casting a glance over his shoulder into the living room, Vance lowered his voice and broached his reason for coming. “My friend at the bureau sent me the file. I read it before driving over. Is there anything you can tell me that isn’t in the paperwork?”

  Henry frowned, looking every one of his sixty-seven years. “We told the police everything we know. Martha had taken Izzy and Isaac to church. I was working late in the field trying to get the hay in before the rains came. Nicole was supposed to work in town that day. She left home as usual but never showed up. We didn’t realize she was missing until her manager called.”

  Vance considered his next words. “And you’re sure she didn’t leave of her own accord?”

  “I have no illusions about Nicole’s desire to leave Missouri the first chance she gets.” Henry paused, regarding Vance in a way that made him think the missing girl had given them as much trouble as he’d once done. “But she wouldn’t leave those two in there. She saw herself as a mother-type to them. I think that’s why she petitioned her social worker to let her get a part-time job—she was saving up so she could try to take them when she turned 18.”

  “She told you that?”

  “She didn’t have to. Me and Martha have gotten pretty good at readin
g what’s going on in a kid’s mind.”

  Vance was glad his teenage antics went for some good, at least. “Can I see her computer?”

  “We don’t have one.”

  “You don’t have a computer?” Vance repeated.

  “I know.” Allie joined them in the kitchen. “I have no clue how they do it. Of course, coverage out here is pretty terrible. My smartphone doesn’t work at all back here.”

  Vance considered that piece of information. “So what are the odds Nicole had a smartphone?”

  “We never got her one.” Henry shook his head. “She got one of those little folding phones for emergencies.”

  “A flip phone?” Vance clarified, biting the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Allie caught his eye and nodded. “Of course, that doesn’t mean she didn’t have her own parent-free phone hidden away somewhere. Have you looked through her things?”

  “Martha might have.” Henry shrugged.

  “Martha might have what?” They were joined in the kitchen by the very woman in question. She’d come through the side door just in time to hear her name.

  “Did you go through Nicole’s things?” Allie supplied when the men were struck mute.

  “Of course,” she answered Allie before turning to Vance. “Who are you?”

  He stood, unconsciously straightening his clothes as he did. He cleared his throat to tell her who he was when recognition dawned.

  “Heaven above. Vance. Is it really you?”

  “In the flesh.” He tipped his head.

  She took a deep breath, her eyes questioning, and then shook her head no. “I’m sorry, but if you’ve come to ask for help, we just can’t right now.”

  Vance bit back his initial response that he’d never once asked them for anything. “I don’t need anything, Martha.”

  “Well, if you’re walking the twelve steps, we forgive you.” She set her purse on the counter as she dismissed him with a wave.

  “I’m not in a recovery program.” Vance sincerely tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “The boy isn’t here because he needs something from us,” Henry interjected before Martha could find new ways to insult Vance. “He’s here to help us find Nicole. He works with the FBI.”

  It was close enough to the truth that Vance let it slide, mostly because he enjoyed the sliver of vindication it gave him. Something changed in her countenance at the news. Vance could see it in her eyes, and suddenly he understood. He understood because he’d felt that way before, too. Sometimes a person just needs to know that something, anything, they’ve done in their life has resulted in some bit of good. Sometimes it’s nice to know all of your efforts aren’t futile.

  Martha Barnett wasn’t a warm and fuzzy woman. She was work-hardened and practical, almost to a fault. But she’d taken Vance in when he’d had nowhere else to go. When he’d had nightmares that his father had found him again, it was her calloused hands that had soothed his brow. She’d taught him right from wrong, even if it had taken a few years for it to sink in.

  In that moment, seeing that look on her face, Vance wanted nothing more than to be the kind of man she’d raised him to be. It was the first time in a very long time that Vance was aspiring to something instead of running away from something. It was a start, anyway. And it gave him hope that he might even feel at home in his own skin again—someday, anyway.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YOU’RE HANDSOMER without the beard.”

  Vance stopped what he was doing and looked down at the very serious little girl. He rubbed his newly shaved chin thoughtfully. “Thank you, Grace.”

  In return, Grace giggled nervously at having his undivided attention, scurrying off to hide under a blanket on the couch. She peeked out after a moment, only to disappear again in a fit of giggles when he waved at her.

  Martha watched the exchange with an amused smile on her lips before commenting, “I think that little girl is as smitten with you as her mama always was.”

  Vance opened his mouth to protest that he and Allie had merely been friends when it occurred to him that her status as his “first” had moved them out of the friendship realm. It was probably best Martha never found out what happened in the backseat of her old 1987 Chevy Nova. Instead, he commented that Grace was a sweet little girl and let the subject drop, refocusing his attention on the computer screen in front of him.

  It had taken almost a week for Nicole’s disappearance to reach Jeff’s desk. Even if she had run away, even if she hadn’t been taken, statistics told him she was at risk: One in three teens was lured into prostitution within forty-eight hours of leaving home. Living in the rural heartland didn’t exempt a young girl from that danger. Vance hoped it bought him time, though.

  He’d worked with a team at the FBI to develop a software program to scan the Internet for chatter that might indicate someone fitting Nicole’s description had been taken. A lot of law enforcement agencies had their own version of it, but Vance had added a few bells and whistles to his. Of course, nothing beat checking the online hotspots for himself, which was his current task. There was something surreal about participating in the vilest of chats as his undercover persona while listening to the musical sound of innocent laughter in the background.

  Vance shook his head, unable to reconcile the disconnect. “I’m going to run into town for a bit, maybe talk to Nicole’s boss to see if he knows anything that could help. Do you have that list of her friends I asked for?”

  Martha handed him a slip of paper with two names on it. “I don’t know if you could call these girls friends. Nicole kind of kept to herself. The one girl here, she goes to church with us. The other is a friend from school.”

  Vance slid the paper into his laptop case after glancing at the names. He had nothing to go on so far. Her brother and sister hadn’t been much help. All he’d learned from talking to them was that Henry’s suspicion was correct: Nicole was saving her pennies to get her little family out of Dallas County and far away from the memories it held. “Thanks for this. Henry has my number if you need to reach me.”

  “Will you be back in time for dinner?” Martha’s brow crinkled, a gesture Vance had long ago learned to recognize as a sign of her displeasure.

  “You don’t have to feed me. I’ll grab a room in town. I’ll have better luck finding Nicole if I can focus.”

  Martha nodded. She couldn’t argue against anything that would help bring Nicole home. “I could bring you some food later, if you’d like.”

  Vance stopped packing his things and stopped to take Martha’s hands in his. “When Nicole is safe at home, I will come over, and we’ll have a big ol’ family dinner, just like we had when I was a kid. And I fully expect you to serve the Jell-O stuff—the lime kind.”

  Some of the worry wicked away from her face at his words. “Do you really think you can find her?”

  Vance considered lying to her, but he knew that would only make the truth harder to swallow down the road. He opted for hope-tinged honesty. “There are a lot of really scary possibilities when a teenage girl goes missing, and the longer she’s gone, the scarier they get. But I don’t see any indication that she’s been trafficked, which makes me think she either ran away or was taken by someone she knows. Neither is good, but it’s better than having been trafficked.”

  It was the best he could offer, and from her solemn nod, he knew it was enough to help Martha through this day. They’d take tomorrow as it came.

  ***

  Winding along the roads where he’d first learned to drive, with his windows down and a warm breeze kissing his cheek, Vance saw the rolling green hills in a new light. The sky was a brilliant azure; silvery wisps floated lazily along a track of endless blue. Hay in various stages decorated the hills: some freshly cut, some already raked into neat rows, and some baled, pristine and ready. Vance loved the smell of hay season.

  Seeing it through these new eyes, he had to ask himself why he’d ever left such a pretty picture to return to t
he harsh streets of his early childhood. Had Vance really expected a different outcome? Had he truly been that naive, or just that angry? Looking back, it wasn’t shocking that he’d ended up as little more than hired muscle for a pimp with aspirations of being a big-league trafficker. At the time, he’d thought it was that or starve. Vance couldn’t help wondering what his life would have been if he’d realized there was a door number three. What if he had come back to the Barnetts, hat in hand, asking for another chance? Would he be married to Allie Walker now, settled into a pretty little farmhouse with a couple of kids of their own running around? For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Elijah and Grace were his children.

  Vance swerved to miss a turtle sunning itself on the blacktop. The creature sucked its head back into its shell as if the action would protect it from a ton of Chevy. Vance peeked in the rearview mirror to assure himself he’d missed it, telling himself his what-ifs were about as helpful as that turtle’s shell would have been. Besides, it felt disloyal to Harmony to even entertain the notion. The fact remained that he had left home, he had worked for Spence, he had met Harmony. He had led the love of his life on a path that marched straight to her death. He hadn’t protected her when she needed him most.

  On some level, Vance knew he wasn’t the only one to blame for Harmony’s death. Bad choices and sheer dumb luck on her own part had helped. And now there was another teenage girl caught in the crosshairs of bad choices and dumb luck. If Harmony was here, they’d save her together. But she wasn’t, so he set his mind to saving her for Harmony.

  After filling up his truck’s gas tank, Vance asked the cashier where he could find Wi-Fi in town. She directed him to the local coffee shop, and he thought to himself that the small hamlet had gone big time. He parked on the picturesque little town square, grabbed his computer, and headed inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized Buffalo really had moved up in the world. The trendy cafe was a pleasant surprise. He ordered a concoction that might possibly cost him his man card before settling in at a table. The nearby leather couch looked inviting, but he wasn’t there to read the paper. The stiff-backed chair would better serve to keep his mind focused.