After a light breakfast of sliced fruit, croissants, and jam, Mia leaned back against her chair and eyed Jared discreetly over her cup of coffee. He’d returned—fully dressed, thank heaven—with the same brooding attitude as before. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never believe he had an ounce of attraction for her. He was obviously going to pretend it didn’t exist. Which was what she needed to do, too.
“You mentioned another lead we hadn’t discovered. How’d you come up with it?”
“It occurred to me that we were only tracing Fuller back to people and organizations who’ve had suspicions and doubts cast on them already. We weren’t looking at any other avenues.”
“And you found another one?”
He nodded. “Yeah. And it’s going to blow some people’s hair back.”
Even more intrigued, Mia stood and took her dishes to the sink. Jared followed her and began to rinse his dishes. She was halfway through the washing, with Jared drying, before she realized what a familiar, easy routine they’d gotten into. Which was odd, since Jared seemed the least tame person she’d ever met.
“You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know.”
She dried her hands on a dishcloth, then placed it on the hook by the sink. “I like to cook, and I like to eat. It’s not a problem to fix extra.”
“I can give you money for groceries or buy some food.”
She wanted to smile, but she wouldn’t. Though the words had sounded gruff and unfriendly, there was something else beneath all of that. Jared did his best to act like a jerk, and most of the time he succeeded brilliantly. But there had been a couple of times when she’d seen through that gruff, tough exterior to a kind, caring man. Of course he’d deny such a label being attached to him. But Mia had seen the evidence and was glad it existed. Again she wondered what had happened to create such a man. She would probably never know.
“I’ll let you take me to dinner one night.”
The furrow on his brow told her that wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. Again she fought a smile.
They returned to the living room. Last night, before she’d collapsed on the sofa, she and Jared had drawn up a long list of connections. Using Boyd Fuller as their lead, they’d tracked him throughout Europe, North America, and Asia. To the untrained eye, Boyd might have been the textile salesman his passport and papers claimed. However, once they looked at the connections from their standpoint, it was obvious that Boyd had been a child abductor. Had he also been a baby broker, selling these children to the highest bidder? Or both? Had he worked for more than one person or organization?
The leads she had come to Paris with and the ones Noah had developed should have given them at least one main suspect to focus their attention on. However, before Mia had fallen asleep, she’d almost come to the conclusion that they were all going to go nowhere. Just when one lead sounded promising, something else would appear that made it seem improbable. And now, apparently, Jared had found something else.
“Okay, let’s see this new thread you’ve uncovered.”
“It seemed like a long shot at first, mostly because of who it is, but there are too damn many coincidences for us not to consider them as our number one suspect. And what better cover than an organization that seems so squeaky clean no one would ever suspect them?”
Jared turned the flip chart to a page Mia figured he must’ve prepared after she fell asleep. Again it was hard for her not to be disturbed by the fact that the man had apparently been very active and she hadn’t heard a thing. She hoped her lack of awareness came from her innate trust of Jared and not because she was letting her guard down. She had made a promise to herself that she would never let that happen again.
Her eyes roamed the maze Jared had created, which pinpointed various locations where Boyd had been. She followed the intricate web until it stopped at the top, and in all capitals, underlined, was the name of their new suspect: Ricard Enterprises.
She shot a look at Jared. “Are you serious?”
Looking as grim as she felt, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“How is this possible?”
Jared pointed to the first connection he’d discovered. “Years ago, Fuller worked as a temp at Ricard Industries. He and Philippe would have been roughly the same age.”
He waited for Mia to comment, but when she continued to stare hard at the paper, Jared continued: “Even though Fuller was employed there for only a short time, a year later, look who showed up to bail Fuller out of jail on a DUI charge.”
“Roland Ricard … Philippe’s father,” Mia murmured; then she shot a questioning glance up at Jared. “How did you find that information?”
He shrugged. “Hacked through a couple of back doors. The document was buried deep, but I managed to unearth it.” He didn’t add that it’d taken him all of five minutes to find it. Good computer skills were often best kept secret.
“Did you find anything else?”
He handed her another sheet of paper. “Five years ago, an intoxicated Fuller showed up at Ricard’s estate. A housekeeper called the police, and Fuller was taken into custody. An hour later, someone showed up and got him out of jail. No charges were ever filed.”
“Philippe?”
“That’d be my guess, but there’s no record of who arranged his release.” He looked back at the flip chart. “Then, a couple of years ago, Philippe Ricard went to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, supposedly for a vacation. Fuller was a ski instructor there. The day after Philippe left, Boyd Fuller quit his job. And became an independent textile salesman overnight.
“And there’s this.” He handed her several sheets of paper. “I printed out this speech Philippe Ricard gave a couple of years ago. His words seem innocent enough, even noble. But coupled with his obvious association with Fuller, it’s hard not to think there’s more behind his words than a philanthropist’s dream of all unwanted children having a home.”
While Mia rapidly scanned the speech, Jared looked back at the chart. The more he studied it, the more convinced he was that they were now on the right trail. Fuller’s associations with their other suspects weren’t even close to being this clear.
“You do know who Philippe Ricard is, don’t you?”
“Yeah, a successful, wealthy businessman and one of the biggest philanthropists in the world. Supposedly responsible for saving thousands of lives just in the few years he’s taken over his family’s empire.”
“Not supposedly. He has done that. And so much more.”
“You sound like you know him.”
She drew a breath and turned to face Jared. “I do. He’s sort of a family friend.”
Well, hell. That’d come out of the blue. She had said she didn’t like talking about her family, but that’d been before. Now that her associations might lead them to answers, he had no problem asking, “How does your family know him?”
She considered him for several seconds before answering. “They run in the same circles.”
“And that would mean what?”
“They’re not best friends or anything, but they see each other socially.”
He wanted to ask more, but he’d leave it alone for now. “Just because he’s a family friend doesn’t mean he can’t be dirty.”
“I agree.” She turned to look at his notes again, as if searching for a hole in his theory.
“Maybe it’s not necessarily Philippe Ricard himself,” he said. “Could be someone who works for him and happened to meet Fuller through their association.”
She turned around and gave him her beautiful smile. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”
Before he could deny that he had done any such thing, she said, “What about our other leads? You think Fuller’s a freelancer?”
“Not sure. That was my first impression. That he either grabbed the kids and then contacted potential buyers or he was hired to grab the kids because there were already buyers in the waiting.” He nodded at the chart. “But now, based on this thread, I thi
nk Ricard had become his full-time employer.”
“But why have him killed?”
“I think your earlier theory is valid. Fuller took a high-profile kid. One his employer didn’t approve of and that attracted attention they didn’t want.”
“But why take the Dennisons’ baby? Not as high-profile as the Hempstead child, but the news of Mandy Dennison’s abduction went worldwide.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have an answer for that.”
“We need to talk to Lara and Carter Dennison. See if they have any kind of connection to Ricard.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Without me?”
“They know me.… They don’t know you.”
“So what? Or is there a particular reason you don’t want me to go?”
Yes, there was, but he couldn’t say what it was. Having Mia meet his ex-wife was no big deal. There wasn’t anything Lara could tell Mia about him. Hell, Mia probably already knew more about him than the woman he’d been married to for almost three years.
Unable to come up with a reason, Jared shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll give them a call to make sure they’re both home.”
“While you do that, I’ll call Noah. He’ll need to know what you found.”
“I called him. He’s expecting us at two this afternoon.”
“I’ll go shower. Do you want to stay or do you want me to meet you at the Dennisons’?”
“I’ll stay.”
For some reason, at those words, the heat he’d glimpsed earlier returned to her eyes. He was within inches of her—all he had to do was lean forward and his mouth would be on hers. He’d been aching to taste her … here was his chance. The invitation was clear … she would welcome him. She would open those luscious lips and he’d finally know her taste. Seconds passed. Everything within him told him to go for it.
Jared surprised the hell out of himself by turning away from her. Yeah, he wanted to kiss her. He’d only spent part of the night working the suspect list. The rest of the time, he’d watched Mia, imagined how delicious she would be and how those dark eyes of hers would darken even more when he slid inside her. Jared refused to go down that road. Mia wasn’t the type for a casual bed partner, and casual was all he would ever do again.
He heard a soft sigh as she walked away. He told himself that was what he wanted, for her to walk away. Lying came easy in his job, but he’d never lied to himself—until just now.
Mia warily eyed the Ducati motorcycle Jared was sitting on. He’d said they could go to the Dennisons’ together. She just hadn’t known that her ride would be on the back of one of the flashiest and most exciting motorcycles ever built. She’d never been on one before and was dying to try it out. There was only one problem.
“You’re sure there’s room for both of us?”
“You can take a taxi. I’ll meet you there.”
He thought she was afraid. She wasn’t. Fear had nothing to do with her reluctance. She was going to be sitting behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist. Okay, maybe there was fear, but not from physical injury.
“No, that’s fine.”
His long legs straddled the bike. Mia took a deep breath, got on behind him, and put her hands at his waist.
Jared cranked and revved the engine, then shouted, “Hang on!” and took off.
Wrapping her arms around him, Mia held him as loosely as possible. As he weaved in and out of traffic like a motocross pro, she gloried in the wind in her face, the myriad sights, sounds, and fragrances of a busy Paris morning, and the feel of Jared’s hard body pressed up against hers and between her legs. Why she was torturing herself by allowing these feelings, she couldn’t say. The look she’d given him earlier had been an obvious invitation … one he hadn’t accepted. She’d seen desire in his eyes, so she knew the attraction wasn’t one-sided. He wanted her, but he was going to do nothing about it. She told herself to let it go.
Giving up wasn’t in her makeup, but neither was offering herself to a man who wasn’t interested. She’d gone down that path with her ex-fiancé and had been too stupid and clueless to realize that he was more interested in advancing his career than he was in spending his life with her.
Until Jared, she hadn’t wanted anyone else. She’d dated occasionally, but no one seriously, and certainly she hadn’t felt an attraction like she did now.
There’d been a moment when he had considered kissing her, but he’d stopped. Why?
The cycle whipped into a parking space in front of a row of lovely rock-and-brick houses. Had Jared lived here with his wife? For some reason, she was nervous about meeting Lara Dennison. What kind of woman would let him go? Had he been this dark and forbidding before their marriage? Or was his hardened attitude the result of his divorce?
She got off the bike and finger-combed her bangs, which she was sure were standing straight up. Thankfully, the rest of her hair was pulled back into a braid, so she didn’t think she looked like a total fright.
The man beside her shot her a look. “Just wanted to warn you that Lara and I aren’t on the best terms right now.”
“The divorce?”
“No.” His face went harder. “Because of my inability to find her child.”
“She blames you?”
He shrugged and headed toward the front door. “She has to blame someone. Might as well be me.”
The door swung open wide, as if pulled with extra energy. The woman standing at the entrance wasn’t like anyone Mia would have expected Jared to choose as a wife. She was about five-eight, blond, and stunningly beautiful. The tightness around her mouth and the shadows beneath her eyes did nothing to detract from her looks. Mia suddenly felt like a short, frumpy mouse.
“Do you have any news?” Lara Dennison snapped.
Jared shook his head. “I told you we had more questions.”
Her eyes were a pretty shade of light green with golden flecks, but when they hardened, as they did now, they were her least attractive feature.
“I don’t know what else we can tell you. If you’re so damn good—”
“Do you really want to have this discussion on your front doorstep, Lara?”
Mia glanced up at Jared. He never raised his voice, but there was no mistaking his frustration. Hell, she was controlling her own anger by only a thread. How dare Lara treat Jared this way when he was doing everything he could to find her daughter?
With an overexaggerated huff, Lara moved aside. “Fine. Come in. Carter’s in the living room.”
Mia was three steps inside when Lara Dennison finally noticed her. “Who are you?”
“This is Mia Ryker. She’s working the investigation, too.”
The sweeping look Lara gave Mia said she doubted her competency as much as she did Jared’s.
Mia tried to cut her some slack. The woman was obviously grief-stricken. People were rarely themselves when under that kind of pressure. She could only imagine how she would be acting if her child had been taken from her the way the Dennisons’ had been.
“We’re doing all we can to find Mandy, Mrs. Dennison.”
Acknowledging Mia’s statement with a stiff nod, Lara turned away. “Carter’s waiting.”
As they followed Lara Dennison, Mia glanced up at the silent man beside her. She hadn’t thought his expression could get any grimmer. His ex-wife’s words and attitude obviously had an effect on him. Was it because he still had feelings for her?
Carter Dennison was about as opposite from Jared as a man could get: about the same height as his wife, slightly thick around his middle, with thinning hair. However, the smile of greeting he gave both Jared and Mia made him much more attractive than Lara’s cool, hard beauty.
Irrationally, Mia felt angry with Jared. How could he have married such a cold woman? Had her beauty blinded him? She never would have expected him to be that shallow.
“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice,” Jared said.
“You said you had some questions?” Carter asked.
Mia answered before Jared could: “Yes. Mind if we sit?”
“Of course not. Sorry, we’re not usually so impolite. It’s been a rough time for us both.”
Mia nodded understandingly. “No problem. It’ll just be easier to take notes if we’re sitting.” She withdrew a small notebook and pen from her bag. “I know you must have answered a thousand questions about the days before Mandy was taken from you, but we have just a few more.”
A small huff of breath was Lara Dennison’s only response; her husband was more diplomatic and just nodded.
“Did either of you attend any kind of social function in the days or weeks prior to Mandy’s disappearance?”
This time, Lara let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course we did. We’re on the board of several different charities.” She shot a hard glance at Jared. “And we have more than one friend.”
What that comment meant, Mia couldn’t begin to guess. Refocusing the woman on her question, she said, “Since you obviously have a busy social life, I’m assuming you keep a calendar?”
“Yes.” Carter pulled a small black book from his pocket and handed it to Mia with a grimace. “It’s easier for me to pencil engagements on a paper calendar than enter them into my phone.”
Mia quickly glanced over the month prior to their daughter’s disappearance. Lara was correct: they did have a busy social life. Every weekend and several weeknights were filled with various events. About to jot some of them on her notepad, she spotted an event the couple had attended two weeks before their daughter disappeared.
“This charity function at the Ritz. It lasted all weekend?”
“Yes. I’m on the board of directors.” He frowned. “Why? What’s this about?”
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