Emma stepped outside with him. Night had fallen. The neighborhood was quiet except for the slam of a car door, a dog barking in the distance. Wisteria grew along the side and roof of the carport and Emma suddenly felt as if she and Linc were standing in a world of their own. The kitchen light sent a dim glow outside, but he was standing in shadow and she couldn't altogether see his face.
"Today turned out to be quite different than I expected," she told him.
He shifted toward her and she could see him more clearly. The brisk tone he'd used before was gone as he said, "The interview itself had to wear you out, let alone the stress from my suggestion. If you aren't entirely comfortable with this idea, Emma, just say so. It doesn't have to go any further."
She considered her interview, their walk on the beach and everything Linc had said. "It's been three months, Linc. The trail for the police is long dead. I can't sleep at night wondering where Paige is and what's happened to her. She's only twenty. She had her whole life in front of her."
"She might still have. That's why we're going to see Gillian."
"To get answers, one way or another," Emma concluded, not knowing if she could believe a psychic, not knowing what would happen next.
The anguish in her voice must have brought Linc closer, because suddenly he was near enough to touch and was holding onto her shoulder. "It's better to know the truth than to constantly think about the worst, don't you think?"
"Yes."
His hand slid under her hair and she could feel his thumb on her neck and his finger almost caressed her. "Emma."
The sound of her name was a warning, telling her she should step away if she didn't want what was going to come next. But the intensity in Linc's eyes, the nerve working in his jaw, the potent attraction she'd felt from the first time she'd met him urged her to stand absolutely still. The silence between them was heart-poundingly loud. The air seemed to quiver with anticipation.
Then Linc bent his head and she lifted her chin. His mouth came down on hers with a demand that she couldn't deny. The pressure of his lips was momentary and then his tongue slipped into her mouth. She felt herself reaching for him, sliding her hand up his nape, relishing the feel of his thick, dark hair. When she melted against him, he held her tighter. She could feel his belt buckle against her midriff, feel his arousal that took her breath away. This man desired her, really desired her. The way he kissed...
...Told her he was an expert. From what she'd read, he'd never married. She hadn't dated much in high school because of her mom being sick. Caring for her and watching over Paige had taken over most waking hours. She'd met Barrett after their mom had died while she was going to school at night to earn her degree. He'd been her first and only. Lincoln Granger so outclassed her in so many ways, she'd better not get caught up in the moment or use him as an escape because of what was happening with her sister.
He must have felt her withdraw even before she actually withdrew because he ended the kiss and backed off, slowly releasing her.
She found her footing on the asphalt, composed herself as best she could before she looked up into his eyes.
"If that wasn't what you wanted, it won't happen again." His voice was just a bit husky and she was glad to hear he'd been affected by the kiss, too.
"I don't know what I want. This is a confusing time."
"I know. I certainly don't want to make it more confusing." His voice took on that brisk tone again when he said, "Let me give you Gillian's address." He took his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a card. He was careful when he handed it to her, that their fingers didn't touch. Because if they did, they might kiss again?
"Do you need directions?" he asked.
"No, my car has a GPS."
"Good. Then I don't have to worry about you getting lost. I'll see you at Gillian's tomorrow at 9:30."
Then Linc Granger walked down her driveway to his car, climbed inside, backed out and drove away.
Emma felt lost already.
Chapter Three
The following morning, shaken up more than he wanted to admit by last night's kiss—a woman's kiss had never done that—Linc concentrated on ringing Nathan's doorbell. He was purposefully five minutes late because he'd guessed Emma would be early. She'd be over-the-top anxious about this appointment. At least if he showed up last they wouldn't be alone together, wouldn't have to look into each other's eyes and remember that kiss.
Gillian opened the door to the two-story stucco home and smiled up at him. "Hey, Linc. Emma and I have been having a cup of coffee. Would you like some?"
"Black," he said tersely, and Gillian arched an eyebrow at him.
He knew she didn't read minds or anything like that, but sometimes her intuition was just a little too uncanny.
He followed Gillian through the foyer into the living room and there Emma was. She'd worn a peach skirt and matching tank, with white beads around her neck and white sandals on her feet. He noticed right away that her nails were painted one of those neutral shades. Remembering her fingers in his hair, he wished he hadn't noticed. He wished everything about her didn't cause a reaction in him.
Gillian went to the coffee table and poured him a mug of coffee. When she handed it to him, he mumbled, "Thanks," and sat in the wing chair beside the sofa. Practically speaking, he had to break the silence between him and Emma. "How are you this morning?"
She gave him what was supposed to pass as a smile. "Nervous."
He nodded, understanding that.
"Emma was just giving me some background," Gillian told him.
"She wanted to know about us growing up, how close Paige and I were."
Linc decided to just keep quiet and listen. He knew Emma and Gillian had to connect.
"So...you took care of Paige and essentially acted as guardian of her after your mother died," Gillian prompted as if Linc's arrival hadn't interrupted their conversation.
"Yes. After I married, she lived with us until she went to school. Then she stayed with us on holidays and throughout summer vacation. After Barrett died, it was a comfort to have her around. She was so good with Becky."
Linc knew Gillian just wanted Emma to relax and go into stream of consciousness memories.
"She got along with your husband?"
"Oh, yes. They were like big brother and sister."
Gillian didn't miss a beat and asked next, "Can you tell me some of Paige's favorite places to go?"
"Like me, she loved the beach. She also liked hiking. Before Becky was born, the three of us would do that together. But most of all, she just liked to go any place quiet and sketch. She was quiet as a child. I think mom getting sick pushed her even deeper into herself. She'd always been artistic and was hardly ever without her sketch pad."
"So she wasn't the type who would attend frat parties and bar hop?"
"I don't know exactly what went on when she was at school, but I doubt that very much. Her artistic nature spoke loud and clear when she painted blue streaks through her hair. But that was how Paige expressed herself—blue hair and funky clothes she designed."
"Did she date much?"
"No. One guy lasted longer than all the others, Craig Jamison. They dated for about six months. But that was almost two years ago. She broke it off with him before Barrett died. They'd had a big fight about something. She wouldn't tell me what. It was so sudden. I thought maybe he wanted to get more serious and she didn't, or vice versa. But she just wouldn't tell me. She said it was over and she was moving on and that was all that mattered."
Linc wondered if the cops had questioned Craig Jamison and what they'd decided about him, if he was a person of interest.
"Did you know this Craig well?" Gillian inquired.
"Not well but I liked him. He spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with us."
"Do you think he was the type of person who would harbor a grudge if Paige was the one who broke it off?"
"Are you asking me if I think he had something to do with her disappearance? If
he did, I'm a very bad judge of character."
Linc used several means to figure out if someone was a good judge of character. He would use that litmus test here. Holding up his hand for a moment, he stopped the flow of Gillian's inquiries, and Gillian acknowledged that he wanted to break in.
"How long have you been running your business?" Linc asked Emma.
"I started it right out of business school."
"The bank gave you a loan?"
"Yes. I had a small inheritance from my mom and her life insurance. That was my collateral so to speak."
"And has your business grown in the past five years?"
"Yes. I've turned a larger profit each year. I plan to pay back the loan in two more years."
"Do you have repeat customers?"
"They're the core of my business."
"Do you have a key to your neighbor's house?"
Now she looked mildly annoyed, as if wondering what any of this had to do with why she was here. "Yes. I take care of Maris's plants when she's away, and just check on the place. She has a key to mine, too, of course, because of Becky."
"Are you still in touch with any of your friends from high school?"
Now she finally did erupt. "What does this have to do—"
He didn't get defensive because he understood Emma felt he was interrogating her, not just filling in information about Paige. "Just answer my last question."
She glanced at Gillian, then back at him. "Yes, I'm still in touch with two of the girls I hung around with in high school. One of them was a friend from grade school. Linc, can you tell me why you're asking me all of this?"
He leaned forward in his chair, and his gaze locked to hers unwaveringly. "First of all, you're a savvy businesswoman or you wouldn't still be in business. With the economic climate the way it's been, a bank wouldn't have given you a loan as young as you were unless you were a good risk. You have a core set of customers, who obviously like you and trust what you do. You have a neighbor who also trusts you, and you trust her. And if you've hung onto some of your high school friends, you know how to establish bonds and know how friendship can last. So as far as Craig Jamison goes, I do think you're a good judge of character. You'd have to be to live the life you're in now."
He shrugged one shoulder at Gillian.
Sitting next to Emma on the sofa, Gillian patted her hand. "Linc can be my rational side. So can my partner, Jake, and of course my husband. They're all experienced in ways I'm not and I trust their judgment. Linc was just pointing out in his way how I can trust what you say."
Emma ran her hand through her hair, pushing it over her brow. "Linc, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get...prickly."
"Prickly happens," he said easily, respecting the fact that Emma wasn't cowed by him like some women...that she stood up for herself even in a situation like this...especially in a situation like this.
"Tell me what you think Paige's most important quality is," Gillian requested.
"She's loyal," Emma answered easily. "And she's devoted to me as I am to her. I think she saw me as a second mom, not just a big sister, especially when Mom was sick."
Gillian nodded. "Okay. I might have more questions later. But how about if you show me what you brought me?"
Reaching over the arm of the sofa, Emma grabbed a bag and pulled it to her lap. She withdrew a royal blue flannel jacket with a hood. "This was—" she started.
But Gillian shook her head. "Don't tell me anything about it, not yet anyway." Gillian took it from her, laid it in her lap and held the material between her fingers and closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them. "Your sister had dark brown hair, instead of blond-brown like yours, right?"
"How did you know that?"
Linc placed his hand on Emma's shoulder, as if telling her to hold the questions, at least for now.
She whispered to Linc, "I didn't show her Paige's picture yet."
Gillian smiled. "You don't have to whisper. I might have caught a glimpse of her on the news without realizing I did, but I'm just absorbing the sense that she had dark hair and dark eyes and that she liked to run."
"She did run, any chance she got. When she was home, she'd go to the high school track."
Gillian nodded. "A controlled atmosphere."
"Paige—"
Again Linc capped her shoulder and he wished he didn’t have to do that, because he felt some kind of current run through him when he did. And it had nothing to do with intuition or psychic ability.
"Paige liked controlled atmospheres. Is that what you were going to say?" Gillian inquired. "She wasn't a risk taker. She liked planning and making to-do lists."
"Yes, she did," Emma said, her voice just a whisper again.
Linc knew how she felt. Sort of a little bit in awe. When Gillian got on the wave length of somebody, it was downright eerie. Or fabulous. However you wanted to look at it.
"Do you have any idea of what she was wearing the day she disappeared?"
"She always wore jeans, that kind that look like somebody took a scissors to them. And she liked beaded T-shirts. But I don't know specifically what she was wearing."
Gillian stopped fingering the jacket fabric. "Can I see her picture?"
This time, as Emma drew the photograph from her purse, Linc could see that her fingers were shaking. He so much wanted to put his arm around her, hold her hand, anything to help her feel better.
When Emma handed the photo to Gillian, she watched her expectantly.
Gillian took the photograph and studied it. "She's a beautiful young woman."
Linc noticed that she used the present tense. He wondered if that was for Emma's sake or if Gillian had a feeling that Paige was still alive. He wasn't about to bring that up or ask.
"Did you bring anything else of hers?"
Quickly Emma retrieved a small envelope and shook a necklace into her hand. It was a gold unicorn. "My mother gave her this and she usually wore it. I'm not sure why she left it behind that weekend, but she did."
Emma carefully laid the necklace into Gillian's palm. Again Gillian shut her eyes and kept them closed for a little while.
Linc saw the hope on Emma's face, and he suddenly wasn't sure he'd done the right thing by bringing her here. What if nothing came of it? Worse yet, what if the news was bad?
But after a little while, Gillian opened her eyes and just gave a slight shake of her head. "If it's all right with you, I'm just going to hold onto these things. Energy's a funny thing. There's no past, present or future with it, so I can get mixed-up messages that don't always make a lot of sense. For the next week or so, I'm just going to think about your sister, handle her things and keep a journal of all my sensations. If something specific pops up, I'll give you a call. If it doesn't, in about a week, I might ask you for a photograph album or something like that. I might want to come to your house and walk around Paige's room if that's okay with you."
"Whatever you need to do."
Gillian looked straight into Emma's eyes and said honestly, "Nothing might come of this."
"Linc told me you have a good success rate."
"Linc is a dear friend who believes in what I do. But that doesn't mean I always succeed."
Nodding, Emma stood. "Call me anytime. You have my cell number and my home phone."
Gillian rose to her feet, too, and so did Linc. He knew there was nothing more to be done today. This process took time.
Gillian held out her hand to Emma. "It was good to meet you. I'll be in touch."
And then she walked them to the door.
Linc gave Gillian a hug and led Emma to the driveway.
They stood at her car while he vividly recalled the night before. He could tell she was remembering, too, because of the golden sparks in her very brown eyes. He'd seen those sparks last night, just before she'd closed them, just before his lips had settled on hers.
Breaking the silence, he asked, "What do you think of Gillian?"
"I like her. She's sincere and I belie
ve she wants to help."
"But?" he prompted.
"But I know this a long shot, whether she has a good success rate or not." Emma's voice was resigned as if she'd convinced herself nothing might come of Gillian's gift.
"You do understand that her partner, Jake Donovan, will be on this too if she comes up with anything? And maybe even if she doesn't. Do you want him to go ahead and nose around?"
"I feel so guilty asking them to do this for free."
"It's what they do, Emma."
She must have heard the "you've got to believe me" tone in his voice, because she lifted her chin and said, "This is all new to me. I don't even know these people. Yet you want me to trust them."
"Is trust hard for you?"
She seemed surprised by his question. "No. Is it hard for you?"
"Yes."
Quick on her feet, she shot back, "In general or in particular?"
"Both. So when I say I trust Gillian and Jake, just know that that trust didn't come easily. They both earned it."
Quiet now, Emma seemed to mull that over. Then she looked up at him again and those golden sparks were back. He wanted to kiss her much deeper and hotter and wetter than he'd kissed her last night.
Instead, he took a step back while she used the remote to open her car door.
"You'll call me if you hear anything?" she asked.
"Gillian will contact you if she connects in any way."
Emma looked as if she wanted to say more, yet she didn't. She slid into the driver's seat and shut her door.
Linc almost wished he'd thrown caution to the wind and kissed her again. But he never threw caution to the wind. Not ever.
#
The bell over the door chimed as Linc walked into Occasional Baskets, wishing he had good news for Emma. Maybe one of the tips generated form the hotline that had blinked across the TV screen after last night's special would pay off. All calls were being routed to the detective in charge of the case. After Emma's interview last night had aired, Linc had thought about calling her. But he hadn't. This morning, however, he'd decided to stop by her shop this evening.
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