The lower voice rumbled again, and she heard what sounded like a chair being knocked over. No, that was definitely not Jones down there with Andy.
Melody unlocked her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. “It wasn’t me,” Andy was shouting. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
Tom Beatrice, the police chief, stood between Andy and the door, ready to catch the boy if he ran. “It’ll go easier on you, son, if you just tell the truth.”
Andy was shaking with anger. “I am telling the truth.”
“You’re going to have to come with me, son.”
“Stop calling me that! I’m not your son!”
Neither of them had noticed that Melody stood in the doorway. She raised her voice to be heard. “What’s going on here?”
“That’s what I was wondering, too.” Jones opened the screen door and stepped into the kitchen.
The police chief glanced at them both apologetically. “Vince Romanella said I’d find the boy over here. I’m afraid I need to bring him down to the station for questioning.”
“What?” Melody looked at Andy, but he was silent and stony-faced. She tried not to look at Jones at all, but she could feel his eyes on her from across the room. “Why?”
“House up on Looking Glass Road was broken into and vandalized several nights ago,” Tom explained. “Andy here was seen up in that area at about nine—about the time the break-in occurred.”
“That’s pretty circumstantial, don’t you think, Chief?” Jones voiced Melody’s own disbelief.
“Oh, there’s other evidence, too, that points in his direction.” Tom shook his head. “The place is trashed. It’s a real mess. Windows and mirrors broken. Spray paint everywhere.”
Jones briefly met Melody’s gaze, then he turned to the boy. “Marshall, did you do it?” His voice was soft, almost matter-of-fact.
Andy straightened his shoulders. “No, sir.”
Jones turned back to Tom. “Chief, he didn’t do it.”
Tom scratched the back of his head. “Well, Lieutenant, I appreciate your faith in the boy, but his fingerprints are all over the place. He’s going to have to come down to the station with me.”
“Fingerprints?” Jones echoed.
“Inside and out.”
Jones’s eyes pinned the boy in place. This time when he spoke, his voice was harder, more demanding. “Marshall, I’m going to ask you that question again. Did you have anything to do with vandalizing that house?”
Andy’s eyes had filled with tears. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t believe me,” he whispered. “You’re really no different from the rest of them.”
“Answer my question.”
Andy answered with a blisteringly foul suggestion. Like an afterthought, he added, “sir.” He turned to Tom Beatrice. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Andy, I’m on your side…” Jones started to say, but Andy just pushed past him, Tom’s hand on his arm.
Melody stepped forward. “Go with him,” she urged Jones. “He’s going to need you.”
Jones nodded, taking in her tentlike dress, her un-brushed hair, the blue nail polish on her toes, before looking in her eyes. “I was scared I’d lose you, Mel,” he said. “That night—I shouted at you because I was more scared than I’ve ever been in my life. It was wrong, but so’s not letting me apologize.”
He turned and went out the door.
“JONES.”
Cowboy sat up in his tent, suddenly wide-awake, wondering if his mind was finally starting to snap. He could’ve sworn he’d heard Melody’s voice calling his name. Of course, he had been dreaming a particularly satisfying and sinfully erotic dream about her….
“Jones?”
It was her. He could see her unmistakable silhouette outside of the tent. He reached up to unzip the flap. “Mel, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She was wearing only a nightgown and a robe and she shivered slightly in the chill night air. “But we just got a phone call from Vince Romanella.” She peered into the darkness of his tent. He was glad for the darkness, and glad for the sleeping bag that still covered most of him—including an extremely healthy arousal, the direct by-product of that dream. “Jones, Andy’s not in here with you, is he?”
“No.” He opened the flap a little wider. “Honey, it’s freezing outside. Come on in.”
“It feels like it’s freezing in there, too,” she pointed out, not moving any closer. He couldn’t quite see her eyes in the darkness. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
“It’s not that bad.” His sleeping bag was nice and warm. And the dream he’d been having about Melody had been hot enough to heat the entire state of Massachusetts.
“Jones, Andy’s missing. Vince said he heard a noise, and when he got up to check it out, he looked in on Andy, and his bed was empty.”
Cowboy reached for his jeans, swiftly slipping them on, wrestling with the zipper, willing his arousal away. “What time is it?”
“Nearly four. Vince thinks Andy’s been gone since around midnight, when he and Kirsty went to bed. Tom Beatrice is organizing a search party.”
He pulled on his boots and grabbed a T-shirt and a jacket. “Can I use your phone?”
“Of course.” She moved aside to let him come out of the tent. “Do you know where he might’ve gone?”
He sealed the flap to keep any stray animals out, then straightened up, pulling on his T-shirt as they walked toward the house. “No. He wouldn’t talk to me down at the police station. And all he said to the chief was that he’d been set up and framed.” With impatient fingers, he tried to untangle a knot that was in his hair. “I might’ve believed it if his fingerprints had only been found on, you know, something like a single can of soda, or a few things here and there.” He gave up on his hair as he opened the door for Melody, then followed her into the brightly lit warmth of the kitchen. Brittany was awake, too, and talking on the phone. “But according to the police report, his prints were on the furniture, on the walls, in every single room. He was in that house, there’s no denying it.”
“But he is denying it,” Melody said, her blue eyes wide. “And rather vehemently, I’ve heard.” She lowered herself into one of the kitchen chairs, shifting uncomfortably, as if her back was hurting again. What else was new? Never mind the fact that he knew how to give a killer back rub—she wouldn’t let him near enough to give her one.
But despite her obvious discomfort, she looked particularly lovely tonight. She’d put her hair in a single braid down her back, but while she’d slept, several tendrils had escaped. They floated gracefully, delicately, around her face. Without any makeup on at all, she looked fresh and sweet—barely old enough to babysit, let alone have a baby of her own.
As he watched, she chewed on her lower lip. She had gorgeous lips—so full and red even without the help of cosmetics. In his dream, she’d smiled at him almost wickedly before she’d lowered her head and…
Don’t go there, Cowboy admonished himself. As much as he would’ve liked to, he couldn’t let his thoughts continue in that direction right now. He had to think about Andy Marshall instead. Damn fool kid. What the hell was he trying to prove?
“Running away like this is a pretty strong admission of guilt,” Cowboy pointed out.
“Sometimes people run because they’re afraid.” Melody was talking about more than Andy—he knew because she suddenly wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Sometimes people don’t realize that everyone in the world is afraid of something,” he countered. “Best thing to do is face your fear. Learn all you can about it. Then learn to live with it. Knowledge goes a long way when it comes to declawing even the scariest monsters.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing here with me?” she asked, no longer even pretending to talk about Andy. “Learning to live with your fear? Facing the terrors of a lifetime commitment? And don’t try to pretend that the thought of marrying me doesn’t scare you to death—I know it does.”
; He went for the truth. Why not? He had nothing to lose. “You’re right,” he said. “It does frighten me. But I’ve done frightening things before and come out a better man because of them.”
Before Melody could respond, Brittany grimly hung up the phone. “They’re starting the search up by the quarry,” she announced. “Alex Parks just told his father that Andy had called him and told him to meet him in the woods up there just after midnight. Alex is claiming he never went, but my gut feeling is that we haven’t gotten the full story from this kid yet. Anyone who’s willing and able is supposed to meet out at the end of Quarry Road.”
Melody stood up. “I’m going to go change.”
“Willing and able, sweetie,” Brittany said. “Not willing and seven and a half months pregnant.”
“But I want to help!”
“Help by giving the lieutenant your car keys and waving goodbye,” Brittany told her sister. “You don’t really think Cowboy’ll be able to give the search for Andy his full attention if you’re there for him to worry about, do you?”
Melody looked directly at him. “So…just don’t worry about me.”
Cowboy smiled ruefully. “Honey, that’s kind of like telling me don’t breathe.”
She looked as if she was going to cry. “My keys are by the door,” she told him. “Take my car. But call as soon as you hear anything.”
BY SEVEN FORTY-FIVE, Melody had gotten tired of waiting. Jones hadn’t called. He still hadn’t called. Fortunately, Brittany had gotten tired of waiting, too.
By eight, Britt was driving her down to the end of Quarry Road. The narrow road was lined on both sides with parked cars for about a good half mile.
“You get out here,” Britt told her. “I’ll park and walk back.”
“Are you sure?” Melody asked.
Brittany raised her eyebrows. “Do you honestly believe that I would bring you up here in the cold, and then make you walk an extra half mile? I should have my head examined for driving you over here in the first place—and all for the sake of some stupid kid.”
“He’s not stupid.” Melody opened the door.
“He’s incredibly stupid,” Britt argued. “He didn’t call me before he ran away. I know he didn’t vandalize that house.”
Melody stared at her sister. “You do?”
“Yeah, and I realized as we were driving here that I can prove it, too. The kid’s been on-line, using my computer every night this week, right? I was working the night of the break-in, and you were probably already in bed, but Andy was at our house, at my computer. I just realized I got email from him at work that night. Unless he scheduled a flash session, I can give him a solid alibi. And whether or not there was a flash session scheduled should be easy enough to prove. I just have to access my account information. It’ll prove he was logged on and actively using the net that night.”
“You seriously believe Andy’s innocent?”
Brittany shrugged. “Well, yeah. He said he didn’t do it. The kid may be a royal pain the butt, but I’ve gotten to know him pretty well over the past few weeks, and he’s not a liar.”
“But all those fingerprints…”
“I know. I haven’t figured that out yet, but if Andy says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it.”
“I think you should tell this to Tom Beatrice right now,” Melody said. She had to smile. “Of all people, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be Andy’s champion.”
“Yeah, well, I was wrong about him. He’s an okay kid.” Worry flickered across her face. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Jones’ll find him,” Melody told her sister as she hauled herself out of the car. She had total faith in the SEAL. This was what he was good at. Rescuing hostages and disarming gunmen and finding missing little boys would all fall under the category labeled “piece a cake.”
“Don’t go any farther than the quarry,” Brittany said threateningly, leaning across the seat to look up at her. “If I get back here and find out that you’ve done something insane, like join a search party, I swear I’ll never let you leave the house again.”
“I won’t join a search party. I promise.” It was then that Melody saw them. “Oh, God!”
“You all right?”
“Boats, Britt.” There were two trucks parked at haphazard angles, both of which had boat trailers behind them. They were empty, which meant the boats were in use. “They’re dragging the quarry.”
Brittany put the car in Park and shut off the engine. She opened the door, then stood looking across the roof of the car at the telltale trailers. Her face was pale, but she shook her head in denial. “It doesn’t mean that. Not necessarily.”
Melody blinked back tears. “Yes, it does. You know it.”
Brittany slammed the car door, leaving the vehicle right there, blocking in at least four other cars. “No, it doesn’t.” Her voice rang with determination.
Mel followed her sister down the trail that led to the flooded quarry.
A crowd had gathered. She could see Estelle Warner and Peggy Rogers, surrounded by other members of the Ladies’ Club decked out in their hiking boots and jeans. Tom Beatrice and nearly all of Appleton’s police force were talking to several state troopers as Vince and Kirsty Romanella hovered nearby. Even Alex Parks was there, sitting on a rock, looking as if he’d been crying. And standing off to the sides were all the people who had volunteered to help search the woods for Andy. The turnout was nearly bigger than last weekend’s apple picking at Hetterman’s. They were talking in hushed voices, somberly watching the boats.
“They’re not dragging the water.” Brittany shielded her eyes with her hand, trying to see past the glare of the early-morning sun. “What are they doing?”
Jones was out on one of the boats. Although he was too far away to see clearly, Melody recognized him from his easygoing posture. That, the baseball cap he wore on his head and the fact that, even though it was only forty chilly degrees out, he wore his jacket unbuttoned more than tipped her off.
The man was totally immune to the cold.
“The water’s too deep to drag in many places.” Melody turned to see Estelle Warner standing behind them. “They’re using some kind of sonar contraption to try to get a reading on anything that might be a body down at the bottom of the pit,” the elderly woman said. “This old quarry’s three hundred feet deep in some places. Maybe even deeper in others.”
“They can’t be sure he’s in there.” Melody’s heart was in her throat. “Aren’t they searching anywhere else?”
“Considering the fact that an eyewitness saw the boy go into the water, and that the searchers found his clothes exactly where that witness said they’d be…”
“Oh, no…” Brittany reached for Melody’s hand.
Estelle looked even more dour than usual. “I’m afraid so. It seems the Parks boy met Andy Marshall up here late last night. From what he says, Andy was always trying to pick a fight, and this time was no different. Andy dared the Parks boy to swim across the quarry, and when the Parks boy backed down, Andy took of his own clothes and dove into the water. Had to have been close to freezing, but that wild kid just dove right in.”
Both boats were heading to shore. Jones took off his baseball cap and raked his hair back out of his face, refastening his ponytail. As Melody watched, he put his hat back on, making sure it was securely on his head. As he got closer, she could see that his face was decidedly grim.
“Apparently, the Parks boy didn’t see young Andy come back up,” Estelle told them. “He says he searched for a while, calling to Andy, but there was no reply. Of course, it was dark and hard to see much of anything. It’s likely the boy dove in the wrong spot, hit his head on a rock. Or maybe the cold just got to him.”
Brittany was squeezing Melody’s fingers. “Please don’t let them have found something,” she whispered.
“That lieutenant of yours,” Estelle told Melody. “He took one look at Andy’s clothes—left right where the Parks boy had said they were—and
he made a few phone calls to Boston. And this other man, the tall black fellow, he was out here within a few hours with this sonar whatever. Brought diving gear with him, too.”
Harvard. Harvard was on that boat with Jones. Melody could see him now, towering over everyone—even Jones. His shaved head gleamed exotically in the sunlight. His expression, like Jones’s, was less than pleased.
Melody saw Jones spot her as he climbed out of the boat. She saw him hesitate, glancing quickly back at Harvard, and she knew. He hadn’t told his friend that she was pregnant.
It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.
Still, he came toward her, and Melody knew when she looked into his eyes that Harvard’s reaction to her pregnancy was the least of his worries.
He didn’t say hello, didn’t mince his words. “Honey, we think he’s down there.”
Brittany sank to the ground. Estelle knelt next to her, holding her tightly—two mortal enemies allied once again, this time through the death of a child.
“No,” Melody whispered. But she could see the truth written clearly in the stormy green of Jones’s eyes. He was stony-faced, sternly angry.
“It’s my fault.” His voice was raspy and as dry as his eyes. “I thought he was ready to learn some discipline. I’d been taking him out, running him through some PT. I told him that SEALs had to condition themselves against cold water. I told him about Hell Week—about having to sit in that freezing surf and just hang on. He wanted to try it—try swimming in the quarry, so I let him do it. We just jumped in and jumped out. I thought I’d let him get a taste of what cold really was.”
He stopped, taking a deep breath before he continued. “That was my mistake. I didn’t let him stay in. I just pulled him back out. I didn’t let him cramp up or find out how hard it is to swim when every muscle in your body is cold and stiff. I think I must’ve given him the false confidence to try it again.”
“That still doesn’t make this your fault.” Melody wanted to reach for him, to put her arms around him, but he seemed so distant, so unanimated and still, so grim and hard and unreachable.
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating Page 94