Have You Seen Her?

by Karen Rose

Nancy pulled a sheet of paper from her folder, holding an enlargement of the symbol. “I’ve run this through every database I’ve got,” she said. “Nothing.”

  Davies took the paper with a polite nod. “I’ll send this to my old partner. He can pass it around, see if any of the other guys recognize it.”

  Steven raised his brows. “Discreetly.”

  Davies scowled. “Got it, Thatcher. I will be the soul of discretion.”

  “Good. Hit the road, guys, and remember the word of the day. Everybody, all together.”

  “Discretion,” they all mumbled, grumbled, and muttered.

  Friday October 7, 1:15 P.M.

  Jenna was in the ICU waiting room when the press conference came on. Jumping to her feet, she rushed to stand in front of the murmuring television and strained to hear what Steven had to say.

  He looked strong. Confident. And very tired.

  “We must confirm reports of a third missing girl,” he said when the media had become quiet. “We’re withholding the name of the victim. All I can say is she is a sixteen-year-old female.”

  “Have all the girls been cheerleaders?” a reporter asked. “Yes,” Steven replied. “But all young women must be cautious. The danger is very real.”

  Jenna’s stomach rolled over. Those poor girls. Poor Steven, having to watch it all happen.

  “Do you have any suspects?” another reporter shouted. “The investigation is ongoing,” Steven replied. “I will say one thing. This vile perpetrator believes he is smart. I believe he’s becoming a little too smug. He’ll make a mistake and we’ll catch him.” He looked into the camera. “We will catch him.” He turned back to the media. “That’s all.”

  Needing to do something, Jenna went to Casey’s room where Ned sat, staring at Casey’s pale face. “Go get something to eat, Ned. I’ll stay with her for a little while.”

  Ned shook his head. “I’m not hungry. But I could sure use the company.”

  So Jenna sat in the chair beside him and together they guarded Casey while Jenna thought about Steven guarding those young girls. And wondered how the world had become so screwed up.

  Friday, October 7, 5:30 P.M.

  Neil found Thatcher standing at the bulletin board, staring at the pictures of the girls. Grudgingly he admitted the man really cared. “I thought you’d be home by now,” Neil said.

  “I’ll leave soon. I was just wondering if our boy has seen the press conference yet.”

  “And what he’ll do when he does?” Neil asked. Thatcher nodded. “Yeah. I want to push him, but I don’t want another ‘after’ photo.”

  There wasn’t a whole lot to say to that, so Neil left it alone. “Have you arranged for protection for Jenna?” he asked and watched Thatcher’s spine go rigid.

  “No need to tonight,” he said. “She’s staying at the hospital with Casey.”

  “I know, but what about tomorrow night? Assuming Rudy is Parker, Jenna could be in danger.”

  I know? Steven turned, eyes narrowed and pulse hammering. “I’ve thought of that,” he said tightly. “What I want to know is how you know she’s staying with Casey tonight.”

  Davies didn’t look away. Smug bastard. “I dropped by the hospital today, just to see how her friend was doing.” He lifted a brow. “Professional courtesy.”

  Steven gritted his teeth. Professional courtesy. Over his dead body. “Did you now?”

  Davies nodded. “I did. I was concerned about how she was holding up.”

  Sonofabitch. Steven recognized the gleam in Davies’s eye. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. “So you’re not only the soul of discretion but the soul of beneficence as well?”

  Quick on the draw, Davies’s jaw tightened. “I guess that was an intended slam on my parentage.”

  Steven shrugged. “Take it how you want. Just don’t be paying Jenna any more visits.”

  Davies’s eyes narrowed and it occurred to Steven that they stood poised for battle like those mountain goats who butted heads over pack leader rights. “Is that a command?” Davies said softly.

  “Take it how you want. Just leave her alone.”

  “What about tomorrow night? How will you keep her safe?” Davies persisted and Steven thrust his fisted hands in his pockets.

  “Don’t trouble yourself about Jenna, Detective,” Steven murmured, very quietly. “I’ll make sure she stays safe without telling her about Rudy Lutz, so at the same time I can ensure the evidence I gather in this case isn’t tainted in any way by a premature tipping of our hand.”

  Davies’s dark eyes flickered in controlled rage, then he turned on his heel and left.

  Friday, October 7, 6:10 P.M.

  He switched off the television set with a snarl. He’d spent precious minutes away from pretty Alev in the barn this afternoon to come home and watch the press conference on television. He’d returned, just now, to watch the six o’clock news to see if that idiot Thatcher had anything new. Instead, he’d seen that idiot Thatcher try to make himself look smart. He’d known the police would posture, would try to stir him up, to make him angry, but the words still stung.

  Smug. Thatcher had called him smug. “It’s Thatcher that’s smug,” he muttered. “Arrogant bastard.” Prancing around like he actually had a clue. Like he actually had any of this under control.

  He opened his closet door where dozens of faces surrounded by long, dark hair smiled at him.

  He focused in on her picture with a scowl. He’d thought she was different. More worthy than the others. Showed even a smart man could be fooled by a competent enough actress. He slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and fingered the silver Jaguar he’d carried since Tuesday night. Since he’d sat in the parking lot in front of her apartment and watched through her window as she kissed Thatcher like the slut he now knew her to be. He’d been so angry . . . One minute the hood ornament was on her car and the next, it was in his hand.

  He twisted the warm metal in his fingers, wondering how it would feel when it was her warm skin between his fingers. When he held her hair in his hands. And he wondered just how smug Thatcher would be when he himself got the final prize.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Saturday, October 8, 12:55 P.M.

  “NICKY, COME AWAY FROM THE WINDOW,” Helen said. “She’ll be here when she gets here.”

  Nicky looked back with his little boy frown. “She’s late.” Matt ruffled Nicky’s red hair. “She is not late. She said she’d be here at one. It’s five till.”

  Nicky looked at Helen plaintively. “But she’ll be here, right, Aunt Helen?”

  She’d better be, Helen thought grimly. “She’ll be here, honey. Go get Cindy Lou ready.”

  “Okay.” Nicky raced to get Cindy Lou and Helen walked over to the window to take his place.

  “She’ll be here, Aunt Helen,” Matt said, digging into a bag of chips. He pointed to the street. “See, here she is. Punctual to the minute.”

  Helen felt the slightest bit guilty for not believing Jenna’s promise. It’s just that Nicky hadn’t shown such excitement in... Since last spring.

  Jenna lifted her hand to knock on the door, blinking in surprise when it opened under her knuckles. Helen stood there, a happy smile on her face. “Jenna, Jenna, come in.”

  Jenna almost stumbled as she was ushered into Steven’s foyer.

  “Told you she’d come,” Matt muttered as he walked by, giving Helen a meaningful look. Helen glared back at Matt and Jenna knew they’d thought she wouldn’t come.

  “Nicky’s had his nose pressed against the glass for the last two hours.”

  Jenna looked at her watch. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I spent the night at the hospital with a friend and I had to run home and shower.” She looked longingly at Matt’s bag of chips. “I’ve eaten hospital cafeteria food for the last day,” she said, then grinned when Matt shoved the bag in her hands without a word. “Thanks.”

  “We were sorry to hear about Miss Ryan,” Helen said. “Yeah, will she be all ri
ght?” Matt asked.

  Jenna nodded. “Yes, thank God. The doctors say she’s out of the woods.” The declaration had come this morning. “She’ll be okay.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” Helen brought out a Nicky-sized jacket. “Nicky! Jenna’s here.”

  With a yell, Nicky came racing through the kitchen, dragging poor Cindy Lou on a leash, stopping just short of Jenna’s feet. For a moment he’d looked as if he’d planned to hug her, but pulled back at the last minute. “You came.” His eyes were bright. “You really came.”

  Jenna tapped the end of his freckled nose. “I said I would, didn’t I? Do you think Cindy Lou’s ready for her first obedience lesson?”

  Nicky shrugged. Then he grinned. “I guess we’ll find out.” Jenna laughed. “I guess we will. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go.”

  Saturday, October 8, 6:15 P.M.

  Steven came home on time for the first time in days, expecting a noisy house and a smiling welcome. Instead, it was dark and quiet met his ears as he shut his front door.

  He flipped on the foyer lights overhead. “Anybody home?”

  A beat of silence followed, then he heard Brad’s voice from his office. “Just me, Dad. In here.”

  Steven stopped in the doorway to his office. Brad sat in the dark, watching a home video on the television in the corner. It was their family, on vacation at the beach. Brad and Matt were fishing from the shore. Melissa was lying on a blanket next to Nicky who was napping in the shade of the beach umbrella, wearing a diaper and nothing else. Nicky had been about a year old. He, himself, must have been the one filming because Melissa was giving him an evil glare and telling him not to take her picture. He remembered that day. Vividly. She’d almost refused to leave the hotel room, standing in front of the mirror and cursing her “baby fat.” He remembered wondering if she cursed the baby, too, for ruining her figure. She’d started pushing him away then. Claiming headaches or that she simply wasn’t in the mood. He wondered, now, as he watched the video, if she’d been cheating then, even though she wouldn’t leave him for another two years.

  Although it didn’t really matter anymore. What mattered was the young man sitting in the chair, his eyes riveted to the scene. “Where is everyone?” Steven asked.

  “Helen’s with her canasta club. Nicky and Matt went to the park with Dr. Marshall,” Brad answered, not looking away from the video. “The bluefish were running that day,” he said softly.

  Steven sat next to Brad. “I remember. Matt got so mad because you caught the biggest fish.”

  “And I got mad because he caught three more than I did.” Steven huffed a quiet chuckle. “You boys always were so competitive.”

  “Guess we must have got it from you,” Brad said, not unkindly.

  Steven searched in the darkness, the flickering light from the video providing the only illumination. Brad had shaved. Washed his hair. Was wearing clean clothes. Something was different. He remembered the look in Mike’s eye Thursday evening when he told him to go home to his son, that Brad needed him. Something had happened when his best friend had driven his oldest son home from the search scene Wednesday night.

  Steven cleared his throat. “It’s hard for a parent to apologize,” he said.

  Brad turned his head and the two shared a sober glance. “For what?” Brad asked.

  “I’m not sure, to be truthful. I don’t know what I did to start all of this, Brad, and I don’t know if I should even apologize, but I did hurt you Wednesday night. I’m sorry for that, son. I was wrong.”

  He watched Brad’s throat work as his son fought to swallow. He knew how Brad felt. He was practically choking on the lump in his own throat. “So was I, Dad. I . . . didn’t understand.”

  Steven frowned. “Didn’t understand what, son?”

  Brad shrugged. “Everything, I guess.”

  Steven had opened his mouth to press further, when the front door flew open. Barking filled the house accompanied by Nicky’s shrill scolding. “No, Cindy Lou. Down, Cindy Lou!”

  Then came the voice he’d been waiting to hear all day. “Nicky, I think Cindy Lou’s had enough obedience training for one day,” Jenna said soothingly. “Why don’t you let her out in the backyard to run? I think she could use a break.”

  Steven found Jenna kneeling on the foyer floor, unzipping Nicky’s jacket. Nicky was looking at her with nothing short of adoration. His youngest son was a very smart young man.

  “Jim, too?” Nicky asked eagerly and Jenna smiled. And Steven felt his heart melt.

  “Sure.” She stood up when Nicky raced off and called after him, “Wash your hands for supper!”

  “What’s for supper?” Steven asked and his melting heart quickened at her brilliant smile.

  “Fried chicken,” she answered, licking her lips.

  Steven’s body quickened along with his heart and he could only hope his sons didn’t notice. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about the birds and the bees tonight. Unless it was with Jenna. And unless the talk included a little extracurricular tutoring. “Are you cooking?” Steven asked and had to grin when Jenna’s smile went from brilliant to very naughty.

  “Depends on who’s asking,” she said saucily.

  “I’m asking,” Brad said dryly, appearing at his side, and Steven choked back a laugh at the guilty expression on Jenna’s face. Like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again when Matt breezed through the front door carrying four plastic bags bearing the Colonel’s bearded face. “No, the Colonel is,” she said, recovering admirably. “It’s for the best, really. I’m not much of a cook.”

  Matt shook his head. “Then I say you’re out of here. I will permit no potential stepmothers into this house without the appropriate culinary skill.”

  Steven watched Jenna’s face go bright red and knew his had done the same.

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re not dating her,” Brad said and pushed past Steven to grab two of the plastic bags from Matt’s arms. “Anything in here but bones?”

  Matt straightened, affronted. “I didn’t touch anything.” Brad looked at Jenna who appeared still on the verge of apoplexy. “Wouldn’t let him, huh?”

  Jenna shook her head. “Threatened him with loss of arcade privileges.”

  Brad looked amused. “I knew you were too smart for him,” he murmured. “Come on, Matt.”

  Steven watched his sons walk away. “I wonder if he was talking about me or Matt.”

  Jenna looked up at him, her eyes smiling. “Does it matter? Brad’s back. What happened?”

  Steven shook his head. “No idea.” He hesitated, then went with his gut and cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand, threading his fingers through her silky hair. She seemed to unwind, right before his eyes. “How’s Casey?” he asked and was relieved when she smiled.

  “She’s going to be all right. They took out the breathing tube this morning, so her throat was still too sore to talk. I gave her a pad and pen and I left her cussing a handwritten blue streak at how long it was going to take her to grow her fingernails back. She’ll go to a regular room tomorrow.”

  “Good.” He lowered his face a few inches. “Jenna,” he murmured.

  Her eyes smiled. “Yes?”

  He came an inch closer. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Are you planning to run home again?”

  “Can’t,” he murmured against her lips. “I live here.” “Then in that case . . .” Her words drifted off when he kissed her in earnest and when he lifted his head she followed, lifting herself on her toes, prolonging the contact another moment longer.

  A delicate “ahem” made them both turn. Matt stood behind them with a wide grin on his face. “I have been asked to inform you that the chicken is nearly gone. If you wish to partake, you’ll need to move your butts. No offense meant, Jenna.”

  She chuckled. “None taken.”

  Steven slid his arm around her waist, amazed how easily she’d s
lid into his life. “I say we eat.”

  Saturday, October 8, 9:30 P.M.

  Steven moved restlessly in the bench seat, bumping Jenna’s head as he readjusted the arm he’d stretched out behind her. “I’ll give Davies another fifteen minutes, then we can go.”

  Jenna relaxed, enjoying Steven’s strong arm behind her neck as they sat in the booth of a sports bar. They were waiting for Detective Davies to show up with something Steven would only say was ‘important.’ “I’m fine, Steven. It actually feels good to just sit and relax like normal people.”

  He smiled at her and she felt herself go all gooey inside. “So now we’re normal people?” he asked, one golden brow lifting in teasing question.

  Jenna snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek against the solid muscle of his chest. He smelled so good. Felt so good, so healthy. “Yes. For right now we are two people on a date, having beer and hot wings. Casey’s safe, we’re safe, Helen’s home with the kids who are safe. For right now there are no crazy teenagers or serial killers. Just us normal people having a normal date.”

  Normal people. God knew he wanted to believe her. Except he knew that there was indeed a serial killer who happened also to be a crazy teenager. That was the problem with the job. It never went away. But for right now he could pretend to believe her. It was the closest he’d get to being “normal people.” He brushed his lips across her hair. “So we’re on a date?”

  She looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Emotion hit him right in the middle of his chest and he knew at that moment there was no other place he’d rather be. And that the place itself didn’t matter. It was being with her. Wherever that might be. “No,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Not a single one.”

  “Good. Because I decided that we will have dates.”

  He had to smile. “Dates? Plural? So we’ll do this beer and hot wings thing again?”

  She nodded firmly. “Many times. Because I decided it was time to get on with my life.”

  She wasn’t teasing, he realized. “So when did you make this momentous decision?”

  “At five o’clock this afternoon. I looked down at my watch and saw the date. Then I realized it was two years ago today that Adam died and I hadn’t thought about him once. For a second I felt guilty, you know? Then Cindy Lou knocked Nicky down in some leaves and started licking his face. Nicky started to giggle and I started to laugh and then . . .” Her voice trailed off.