Never Let Go

by Elizabeth Goddard

  Austin closed the distance. She couldn’t escape him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “You can’t know for sure that his last case is the reason for any of this. But it’s not worth the risk. I’m merely suggesting that you drop it for now until the police figure out who burned the house and find the hit-and-run driver who killed JT.” His face contorted as if saying the words were painful for him too. She understood that completely.

  “I haven’t told you about the case yet. You should know the woman has less than two months to live. She doesn’t have time to wait for the police to investigate the fire and JT’s death.”

  “Even so, continuing with the case could be dangerous. I don’t . . .” His brows furrowed. “I don’t want you to get hurt. We can talk to the police about all of it. Tell them everything. In the meantime, I’ll investigate too. I’ll find out who is behind this and why.”

  He was moving too fast. Pushing himself into her life when she’d already decided it was best if he stayed away. “You’ll find out, Austin?”

  Chapter ten

  Her question startled him. Didn’t she understand he was in this with her? That is, if she wanted him to be. Or was she questioning how far he would go with her in this quest for answers? They didn’t have a great track record together. She wanted to know up front his level of commitment. Austin studied Willow’s beautiful eyes—what had drawn him to her the day they’d met. She’d been working with Zena Helms’s grandmother to connect the missing pieces of a genealogical puzzle. He’d gone with Zena to stop in and check on her ailing grandmother and met Willow. One look into her eyes and Austin wanted to know more about her. A person could see deep into her heart through her compassionate, loving eyes. Willow had been transparent, willing to open up and share her life with others.

  In that way, she’d been the complete opposite of Austin, who’d carefully protected everything about himself. She’d been an anomaly in the world in which he’d worked and lived. A beautiful anomaly, at that, both inside and out.

  But now the world’s corruption and ugliness closed in on her, and instead of open compassion, a storm brewed in her eyes. She fought to outrun it by questioning his involvement in her life. She didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. Maybe he’d been presumptuous in thinking she wanted his help. It was too much too fast, but as she’d explained, someone was already running out of time.

  This couldn’t be about their past.

  Still, what exactly was she asking him? To explain what he was doing here at Dana’s house? What he was doing sticking his nose into any of this? He hadn’t even figured that out himself, so he couldn’t exactly explain it. But it all boiled down to one thing.

  Fear. The healthy kind.

  He had enough experience—though it didn’t take much in this case—to read well enough that something criminal was happening. And this time, it was happening to Willow.

  Austin scraped both hands down his face. He didn’t want to argue. This wasn’t the time or the situation. “I’m concerned for you. No, I’m being too gentle. I’m scared for you, Willow. JT called me in to help with a project. An FBI cold case, but he gave me no details. I don’t even know what this is about. Maybe we should start with that. Tell me what is going on. Maybe that will give me a lead into if this could possibly be connected to what happened to you and JT. I can talk to the FBI then. Who knows, maybe they’ll inject warmth into this woman’s cold case.”

  “I think Dana called you to cancel your services.” Willow stared right through him. “At least that’s what she told me.”

  What was she doing? Trying to get rid of him now? Maybe he’d been much too forward, too personal when he’d touched her hair, her cheek. He couldn’t deny feeling her soft skin against his fingers had stirred longing in him. He wanted to feel all that was Willow, her goodness and her softness, in his arms again. But he couldn’t have a future with her. This was about keeping her safe, not reviving what they once had—it had been a dead end anyway. Still, she was someone he cherished. He couldn’t stand by and let her remain in danger.

  Come on, man, why are you still here? “Just humor me. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Mrs. Mason contacted JT about a month ago. At that time, she said she had less than three months to live and wanted to find her daughter who was taken from her hospital room just hours after her birth. Twenty-one years ago.”

  His gut clenched. Not what he’d expected to hear. Not the kind of case he wanted to get involved in or even think about.

  Was that why JT had wanted Austin’s help? Because of his experience on the CARD team—Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team? At one time, he’d had a unique set of skills, honed to find children before it was too late.

  When every minute counts. That had been their mantra.

  But twenty-one years? Austin walked to the window and stared out. A gentle rain had started falling—droplets clung to the window and slid down like huge tears.

  He’d left the FBI because he’d failed miserably. More often than not, children were found safe. But Austin’s last case had left him physically, emotionally, and mentally depleted. He hadn’t been able to pick himself up and go back. He’d thought he was stronger than his father and would never let tragedy take him down, but he’d been wrong. He’d been taken down and out, all right.

  Like he’d told the fireman—it was in his blood.

  Now what? He thought he could help Willow, but he’d been wrong. Except walking away now would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  “Austin . . .” Willow’s tone was gentle as she approached from behind. Warmth emanated from her body. Please don’t stand so close. He swallowed, unwilling to face her yet.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  They’d ended their relationship before he’d left the FBI, so she couldn’t know what had happened. And now he was pushing her, trying to influence her decisions. Who did he think he was?

  No, I’m not okay. But this wasn’t about him. This was about helping Willow and keeping her safe, except he couldn’t help her with this. She wouldn’t want him to if he told her what had happened. And if he knew anything about her, it was that she would be furious he hadn’t already shared with her why he’d left the FBI. He’d been such an idiot to hide his pain, the pathetic broken soul he really was, from her.

  Now it was time to suck it up.

  He turned to face her. Willow . . . The storm in her eyes had settled to a misty rain and the compassion had returned. He missed her. Would he ever get over her? “Please tell me you’re not going to dig into this. And that you’re going to tell the police. Tell the FBI even that there could be a connection between what’s happened to you and the Mason case.” He gripped her shoulders. “You have to understand that this could be a lost cause. You could be putting yourself in danger for nothing. What do you think you’re going to find? What if Mrs. Mason’s daughter is dead? Do you want to be the one to tell her?” But he was getting ahead of himself. “Tell the authorities and let them investigate. In the meantime, take a trip. Get out of Seattle, if you can, until this is over.”

  “What? You came to me. You’re the one who came to the house today to tell me about the arson and that JT’s death was no accident. So to me that says your assessment—that this could be related to Mrs. Mason’s abduction case—is right on. If I take the case and find Mrs. Mason’s daughter—now a twenty-one-year-old woman—maybe that will lead me to JT’s killer. And if it doesn’t, then at least I will have done my best to solve this for Mrs. Mason. The FBI failed to find her child twenty-one years ago. They could fail again, no disrespect intended.”

  Her words stabbed him to the core. Still, he set his tragic experience to the side.

  “And this time, Mrs. Mason doesn’t have time on her side.”

  He stepped away from the window in their dance around Dana’s living room, putting some distance between them. Now he could breathe. Now he could think clearly. “Promise me you’ll consider
everything I’ve told you. I only meant to warn you that someone could have targeted Anderson Consulting. Not draw you to the flame. So I’ll leave you to think about it.”

  He headed to the door. He needed some fresh air. Talking to her hadn’t gone as he’d planned. Trying to protect and warn her, he’d only made the situation worse. Why couldn’t he just walk away from this? From her?

  “Austin, wait.”

  He’d already opened the front door and should’ve kept walking but turned to face her instead. She slowly approached. “I promise I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

  That surprised him. In fact, it left him speechless.

  “But if I decide to pursue this, I want your help. I want to hire you to help me find Mrs. Mason’s missing daughter.”

  He shifted on his feet, again surprised. He should be glad to hear those words. So why wasn’t he?

  “Fair enough.” He nodded and left the house. He hoped his services wouldn’t be needed, but that would mean he had no reason to see Willow again.

  Though he shouldn’t feel this way, Austin wanted nothing more in the world than a reason to see her again.

  Chapter eleven

  Willow stared through the open door, a perfect frame for the picture before her—Austin walking away from her on the sidewalk that cut through the groomed lawn. A hazy mist nurtured the trees, mums, late-blooming roses, and dahlias lining the path. A Salvador Dali couldn’t have been more surreal to her. She could hardly believe she was once again watching him leave, only to wonder if he would come back. At least she’d made an effort to hold on to him this time. The rest was up to him. She sure hoped it was for the right reason—to help her find Katelyn’s daughter, Jamie Mason. How sad it was that she couldn’t even trust her own heart.

  “Willow,” Dana said from behind. “You’re not actually thinking of hiring him.”

  She turned around and looked at Dana. “I know you don’t like him because you believe he hurt me, but I hurt him too, Dana. That happens in relationships. There are no guarantees. But that was in the past. We have to rise above what happened before and focus on Mrs. Mason’s case and find out if someone killed JT because of it.” Fury boiled in her veins. She couldn’t afford to let the news Austin had brought cripple her. “We have to find out if someone tried to kill me in the fire last night. Despite what happened between us before, Austin just happens to be one of the only people I trust, besides you, of course. Don’t you agree we could use his help? We have to put the past behind us.”

  “Just so you remember that and don’t fall for him again.”

  “Don’t worry. Never going to happen.” That should be the least of her worries.

  “He’s not for you, Willow.”

  JT would disagree. “Look, there’s no point in talking about this. So let’s just move on.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry if I sound like a nosy friend. A manipulating mother. I don’t mean to be. I’m just worried about you.”

  Willow gave Dana a quick hug. “I’m glad I have someone who cares.” Melancholy threatened to grip her, but she focused on Mrs. Mason’s case. “If only I hadn’t lost JT’s notes in the fire.”

  “You know . . . there are more of JT’s notes at the warehouse,” Dana said. “In fact, we should get what we can and put it in a safer place. I can hardly believe any of this has happened. Is happening.”

  “We should hire someone to put in a security system too. Someone burned down our house, and they might go after the warehouse next.” How quickly she’d gone from considering closing the business to wanting to fight for it. But solving Mrs. Mason’s case would be telling. Was Willow as talented as her grandfather had been at solving the insolvable?

  “We have a friend in the security business. I’ll see if Stan can get something done tonight.” Dana hesitated. “I have to say I agree with Austin on one thing. I wish you wouldn’t pursue finding her daughter now, if that would mean putting you in more danger.”

  Too late. “I can’t turn back.” Whoever was behind this would regret targeting Willow or her grandfather. They’d created a resolve in her to find Jamie she hadn’t had before. She hoped her bravado held up. Fear might paralyze her if she stood still too long.

  To hide her shaking hands, she said, “I’ll go up and grab my—” Oh yeah. She’d lost her purse containing her identification in the fire. It reminded her of everything she needed to replace in order to exist in this world. Fortunately, her passport should still be in the safe at Anderson Consulting, along with JT’s. She still needed to contact her insurance agency about the house. There was so much to do. The weight of it could overwhelm her. She rubbed her head. “Okay, let’s get to the warehouse first and gather all the pertinent files. While we wait there for security, I can call the insurance company and Mrs. Mason.”

  “Sounds like a plan. We’ll pick up something to eat on the way. Stan can grab his own dinner and contact our security system friend to meet us there.” Dana touched Willow’s arm. “Even though I’d prefer you didn’t work on the Mason case, I’m glad you’re picking up the pieces to move forward. But don’t push yourself, please.”

  “I’ll be fine.” At some point the police should contact her about what happened to JT, and at that time she would tell them everything she knew about this open case, but she preferred to get her hands on the rest of his notes about Mrs. Mason before she spoke to them.

  “I’ll get my purse and car keys. We can ride together.” Dana disappeared up the stairs.

  Stan had moved Willow’s vehicle to their home and parked it in the garage in lieu of his own vehicle. Hiding it? Smart man.

  Chapter twelve

  TUESDAY, 9:14 P.M.

  ANDERSON CONSULTING OFFICE

  Willow sat at JT’s desk at the Anderson Consulting office in the too-big warehouse, copying files from his computer onto a thumb drive she could keep close. Images of the notes she’d taken home, now turned to ash, accosted her. Instead of keeping the drive close, she would put it in a safety deposit box in a bank. JT always backed up his computer to a hard drive and to the cloud, but she wanted an additional copy of anything to do with Mrs. Mason that no one knew about or could access. It seemed strange that he’d completed his other projects and was working on only the Mason case. It was almost as if he knew his time was short—just like Mrs. Mason’s time. Could that be why he took on this seemingly impossible task for a desperate and dying woman? His one last chance to solve the impossible? Again. He would go out with a bang. If that was true, JT hadn’t known just how short his time was.

  Willow fought the sudden nausea. Refocused her attention on the work at hand. Exhaustion threatened—the sooner she finished this, the sooner she could climb into bed and sleep for a decade.

  Still, she probably should also make sure to get additional copies of all their clients’ files, including the hard-copy files and the boxed archives. But that could take hours, if not days. Anderson Consulting’s primary source of income came from the forensic genealogy side of their business used more in cases of the dead searching for the living, or rather, the search for a lost heir—the deceased had bequeathed property and the heir must be located. The living searching for the dead was a close second in terms of sources of income. With so many genealogist hobbyists out there, people were often surprised that anyone would have need for a professional genealogist. But it was specifically because of the hobbyists and people’s enormous interest in learning where they came from—their family history—that professionals were needed.

  Often a hobbyist created a family tree by gathering primary source documents—birth, marriage, and death certificates, which were easily found online through genealogy sites or the states where the event occurred—to prove dates. Online groups were populated with professionals who offered free advice. It was the “brick walls,” as they were called, when someone was stuck and couldn’t go any further in their search, that motivated people to hire a professional genealogist.

  Sometimes records
were accessible only through state or county archives or historical societies. Other times a person might discover through DNA testing that they weren’t who they thought they were.

  Maybe they didn’t have the time, the expertise, or even the desire to search, but they had money to hire someone.

  Like ninety-seven-year-old Albert Schmidt, a holocaust survivor who was separated from his family as a child and as an adult desperately searched for his roots. He hadn’t even known who his family was. JT had spent months working for him, traveling to Germany and Poland, scouring museums, digging for answers. Thanks to JT, Albert found and met his family two months before he died, his story just one of so many.

  Thoughts of Albert and his history gave her pause. Willow should make the effort to better preserve all the information they’d gathered over the years so this maniac couldn’t destroy anything more in their attempt to prevent Willow from discovering the truth, if that’s what was going on.

  In Mrs. Mason’s case, it wasn’t the living searching for the dead, or vice versa, but the living searching for the living. Willow hoped. She’d called Mrs. Mason on the drive over to the warehouse and left a voicemail asking for a call back. She wanted to inform her of JT’s death, which would come as a shock, as it had to anyone who had known him. The man had so much life left in him. The jolt of his unexpected death rolled through her anew. People told her time would heal the pain, but she hoped she never grew numb to it.