FOR THE BABY'S SAKE

by Beverly Long

  Maybe they’d eat in bed. He’d feed her shrimp creole and drizzle the sauce across her naked body.

  Lord help him. He reached for his water and knocked his silverware on the floor.

  She scooted out of the booth and reached over to the next table to grab him a fresh set. He saw the smooth, tanned skin of her back when her shirt pulled up.

  He did a quick look to make sure the two goons in the middle booth weren’t copping a look.

  Nope. It was just him.

  “No other family there?” she asked.

  “What?” He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  She slid the silverware toward him. “Do you have other family in Baton Rouge?”

  He’d brought Jake with him. That had taken some doing, but there’d been no other option. “No.” She was getting too close. He needed to change the subject.

  “How about you?” he asked. “Did you always want to be a social worker at OCM?”

  “No, I worked in private practice for several years. Sort of chasing the American dream. You know, a fancy house, a new car, trips to Europe, three-hundred-dollar suits.”

  He knew that much. He wanted to know why she’d left it all behind. “Doesn’t sound all that bad.”

  “It’s not bad. Just not enough.”

  He let her words hang. When she didn’t continue, he jumped in, not wanting the conversation to die. “Just decided you’d had enough of living in the lap of luxury?”

  She smiled, a sad sort of half smile. “You got it. Decided I couldn’t take any more caviar and champagne.”

  He thought about pushing. Over the course of his career, he’d persuaded street-smart drug dealers, high-priced hookers and numbers-running bookies to talk. Some had been easier than others. But he rarely failed.

  But he didn’t want to pry or coerce Liz into offering up information. Maybe it was as simple as she made it sound. Maybe she just got tired of the fast lane. If so, no doubt it would lure her back, sooner or later. She’d get tired of slugging her way through the day at OCM, the hours filled with fights with belligerent teens.

  If she didn’t want to talk, okay with him. He didn’t care what had driven her to OCM.

  Right. He wanted to know. Wanted to know everything about her. Might have asked, too, if the waitress hadn’t picked that moment to slam down their breakfasts in front of them. He picked up his fork, dug into his eggs, grateful for the diversion.

  They didn’t speak again until they were both finished eating. “I’ve got a picture of Mirandez in the car,” Sawyer said. “It’s a good shot, shows his face really well. When we get to each place, you can go into the office and show Mary’s picture as well as Mirandez’s.”

  “And if they haven’t seen them?”

  “We move on. But leave a card. Put my cell-phone number on the back.” He reached out, tore off a corner of the paper place mat and wrote down the number. “Oh, by the way—” he tried for nonchalant “—when I was doing my internet searches, I got us a place to stay.”

  Liz was glad she had finished breakfast. Otherwise, she might have choked on her bagel. He made it sound so married-like. As if they were on vacation and he’d taken care of the reservations: Hey, honey. We’re going to the Days Inn.

  Problem was, they weren’t married and this was no vacation.

  “Where?” she managed to ask.

  “Lake Weston. It’s on the west side of The Dells. It’s centrally located to the search. There weren’t a lot of vacancies. I guess this is prime vacation season. Everybody’s here with their kids, a last fling before school starts.”

  Please, Liz, let me come before school starts. Jenny had called her at work. It had been a crazy summer for Liz. One of the other partners had been gone from work for months. He’d had a heart attack, and Liz had worried that the rest of the staff would have one, too, if they kept up the pace. Everyone was working six days a week, twelve hours a day. But still, when Jenny had called, she’d agreed to let her come. Jenny, at sixteen, loved the city. Its diversity, its energy, its passion for music and art.

  Liz had managed to squeeze out time to shop, to go out to eat and even for a concert at Grant Park. Four days after she’d arrived, Liz had kissed Jenny goodbye and sent her home on the train. Three months later, Jenny had been dead.

  “What are you thinking about?” Sawyer asked. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  Liz debated whether she should tell him. Even after three years, it was difficult to talk about Jenny and the hole that her death had made.

  “My little sister used to visit me in the summers. She told me it was better than a weekend at Six Flags.”

  Sawyer laughed. “Not bad. You edged out an amusement park. How old was she?”

  “Sixteen.” She’d always be sixteen in Liz’s mind.

  “Wow. A lot younger than you. Second marriage for one of your parents?”

  “No. Just a bonus baby. I was thirteen when she was born.”

  “She in college now?” Sawyer asked.

  “No.” Liz gripped the edge of the Formica-topped table. “She’s... Jenny’s dead.”

  She could see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened?”

  “She killed herself. In the bathroom of my parents’ house. She bled to death in the bathtub.”

  He didn’t know what to say. “Did she leave a note?”

  “No. I’m not sure if that makes it more or less horrible.”

  “Do you have any idea why?”

  “She was eight weeks pregnant. According to her best friend, the father of the baby had taken back his ring just two days before.”

  Sawyer shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry, and she hadn’t even told him the worst part. The part that had almost destroyed her until she’d found OCM.

  “I guess I understand why it’s so important for you to help Mary.”

  He had no idea. “Let’s just say I don’t want another girl to fall through the cracks.” It was the same thing she’d told Jamison. There wasn’t really a better way to sum it up.

  “Right.” Sawyer folded up his paper napkin. “You know,” he said, his voice hesitant, “Mary might be hiding in one of those cracks. She and Mirandez. She had the chance to point the finger at him. But she wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t know why,” Liz said. “Maybe she’s afraid of him?”

  “If she’s smart, she is. If she’s lying about him being the father, maybe she’s trying to get him to marry her? Maybe he’s a meal ticket?”

  It was possible. She might see it as a better alternative than working her whole life. “When we find them, I’ll ask her.”

  Sawyer slid out of the booth. “I hope like hell you get the chance.”

  Chapter Nine

  At each place, it was the same. Liz showed Mary’s picture first, then Mirandez’s. Then she’d tell the story. She’d been working in Europe for the past year and had missed her sister’s wedding. Having just returned, she hoped to surprise the bride and groom.

  Everyone had looked at the pictures, shaken their heads, taken her card and agreed to call her if the couple checked in. Sawyer had concocted the story, hoping that people’s inherent love of a good surprise would keep any clerk from telling Mary and Mirandez that someone had asked about them. And if someone did have loose lips, perhaps Mirandez wouldn’t be too nervous if he thought only Liz had followed Mary.

  They’d stopped at ten places before noon. “How’s that bagel holding up?” Sawyer asked.

  “We can stop if you’re hungry,” she said.

  “You don’t eat lunch?”

  She waved a hand. “Sure I do.”

  “Uh-huh. What did you have for lunch yesterday?”

 
Liz chewed on her lip. “Chips and a can of pop.”

  “The day before?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. I had...chips and a pop.”

  He leaned across the seat and inspected her. “You don’t look like you’ve got scurvy,” he said.

  She let out a huff of air. “I take a multivitamin every day. Oh, damn.” She smacked herself on the forehead. “I think I forgot my vitamins.”

  Sawyer shook his head. Ten minutes later, he turned the car into a gas station. Half the building was a convenience store. “I’ll get us some lunch.” He opened his door. “So, what kind of chips do you like?”

  She smiled. “You’re not going to try to reform me?”

  “I’m smarter than that. Do you want to come in?”

  “No. I need to call Jamison. I left a message on his machine early this morning. That was before I knew we would be traveling together.”

  “What’s he going to think about that?”

  “He’ll be thrilled. He’ll think I’m safer.”

  “You like Jamison, don’t you?”

  “He’s a great boss. He trusts all of us. He knows we work hard, and he’s really loyal in return. He treats us more like good friends than employees.”

  “He and Fraypish are friends, right?”

  “For over twenty years. Jamison really respects Howard’s legal judgment.” Liz pulled out her cell phone and started dialing. “And he works at the right price, too.”

  Sawyer slammed the door shut. He didn’t really care about what Jamison thought about Fraypish. He wanted to know what Liz thought about the man.

  Why? He pushed open the door of the convenience store. Why did it matter? He and Liz had shared a couple kisses. Okay, a couple of really hot kisses that had made his knees weak, but still, it meant nothing. They would hopefully find Mary safe. She’d turn on Mirandez, and months from now, if he and Liz happened to run into each other at the grocery store, they’d nod politely and go their separate ways.

  He grabbed an extralarge bag of potato chips. What did he care if she got fat and had bad skin?

  He walked over to the counter and picked out two ham-and-cheese sandwiches. He stuck two cans of pop in the crook of his arm. A young woman at the cash register stopped filing her nails so that she could ring him up.

  “Will that be all?” he asked.

  “You don’t happen to stock multivitamins?”

  She shook her head.

  “Got any fresh fruit?”

  She pointed to the back of the store. “Bananas. Fifty cents apiece.”

  “I’ll take six.” When he got to the car, Liz was just snapping shut her cell phone. He dropped the bag into her lap. She reached inside and pulled out the chips.

  “A big bag,” she said, looking pleased. She pulled out the soda. “Thank you very much,” she said. She handed him the bag, but he didn’t take it.

  “There’s something else for you,” he said.

  She peered inside the plastic bag. A smile, so genuine that it reached her pretty green eyes, lit up her face. “You bought me bananas.”

  You’d have thought it was expensive perfume or something that sparkled. He opened his own soda and took a big drink. Liz Mayfield made a man thirsty. “I can probably find us a picnic table somewhere,” he said.

  She shook her head and ripped open her bag of chips. “Let’s just keep going.”

  They stopped at another eleven places before Sawyer finally pulled into the parking lot of Lake Weston. It was after seven, they hadn’t had dinner and Liz looked exhausted. She had dutifully gotten out at each stop, given her spiel and returned to the car, looking more and more discouraged.

  “Look, here’s our place. I think we should call it a night,” Sawyer said. “Neither of us got much sleep last night. Let’s get checked in, I’ll find us some food, and you can crash.”

  “No.”

  It was the first word she’d said in two hours.

  “What?”

  “No. We have to keep going. Let’s just grab a sandwich. We can probably hit three or four more places tonight.”

  “Liz, be reasonable. It’ll be dark in another hour. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”

  Liz picked the map up and spread it across her lap. “Look, there’re two places just ten miles or so up the road. We’re wasting time.”

  He was going to have to strap her down. But he didn’t think he had the energy.

  He shook his head. “We have to get checked in. They close the office at eight. We need to get a key to our cabin.”

  “Cabin?” she repeated.

  “I got a two-bedroom cabin. It was all they had. I hope you don’t mind sharing a bath.”

  “Oh. No, of course not. It sounds great. I mean, it sounds like it will suit our needs. Enough space, you know.”

  She was blushing. He didn’t get it. Had she really thought he’d only book one room? Maybe in his wildest dreams. “You’re going to have to register. It’s in your name. If Mirandez happened to track you back here, I didn’t want there to be any record of me. Only problem is, you’ll have to put it on your credit card. The department will reimburse you.”

  “That’s fine.” She opened her car door. “I’ll get us registered. And then we’re going to the next two on the map. Their offices might close around eight, too. We’ll need to hurry.”

  The woman was a workhorse. “Fine. We’ll go to those two. But then we’re done. And I’m picking the restaurant. Get prepared because there may not be chips on the menu.”

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST NINE O’CLOCK when Sawyer ordered steaks for both of them. He’d found a supper club alongside the highway. The parking lot had been full, and he’d taken that as an endorsement.

  The lighting was a little too dim, the music a little too loud. But the chairs were soft, and the cold beer he held in his hand tasted really good.

  He thought Liz might fall asleep in her chair. Her eyes were half-closed. She looked pale, tired and defenseless. And it made him want to slay dragons for her.

  If—or when, he corrected himself, trying to think a bit more positively—he found Mary, he would kick her butt for making this woman worry. For making the two of them traipse across the country in a hot car that didn’t have a working air conditioner.

  He wished he’d learned that little piece of information earlier. Like before he’d left his own car at the station and decided to take a road trip in the Toastermobile. He’d turned the knob just after breakfast this morning, when the temperature had already hit the low nineties, and hot air had blown in his face. He’d looked at Liz, and she’d shrugged her shoulders and looked the happiest she had all morning.

  Looking back, it had been an omen of how the day would go. One big bust.

  But through it all, Liz had moved forward without complaint. He’d driven, and she’d read the map, directing him from place to place. Her instructions had been clear and succinct. At each stop, she’d gotten out and flashed her pictures. She hadn’t whined or complained. Hell, she could probably slay her own dragons. She was tough enough.

  “We’ll go north tomorrow,” he said. He picked up a roll, buttered it and held it out to her. She shook her head no. He kept his hand extended and raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m too tired to fight,” she said, and she grabbed it out of his hand.

  He waited until she took a dainty little bite before continuing, “Thank you. You don’t eat enough.”

  “I ate a banana.”

  “So you did. Maybe that will be enough to keep you from falling down.”

  “If it’s not, just prop me up and drive to the next place.”

  He laughed until he realized she was half-serious. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “No. I can’
t. I won’t.”

  “What happens if we don’t find Mary?”

  “We will. If we look hard enough, we will.”

  God, he hoped he didn’t have to disappoint her. “Probably no need to start so early tomorrow. Maybe you could catch up on your rest.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  No, of course not. “Yeah, well, I am.”

  She blinked twice. “No, you’re not.” She shook her head at him. “You think by saying that you’re tired that I’ll implicitly understand that it’s okay if I’m tired.”

  Why did she have to be a psychologist? Why couldn’t she have been an accountant or an engineer?

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  “No. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay. But could you at least drink your water? Just being in the car today was enough to dehydrate a person.”

  “Where did you get your medical degree?”

  He didn’t take offense. She’d smiled at him. The first one of those he’d seen in a couple of hours.

  “Off the street of hard knocks. It’s a fast-track program. You do your internship at a homeless shelter and your residency in the emergency room at Melliertz Hospital. They don’t have metal screeners there for nothing.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of violence, huh?”

  She leaned her head back against the chair. The flickering light from the cheesy candle on the table danced across the long lines of her graceful neck. She was a beautiful woman.

  “I’ll bet you’ve heard about a lot of violence,” he replied. “I wonder what’s worse. Seeing it or hearing about it.”

  A cloud of sadness drifted across her face. “I think seeing it,” she said. “When you hear about it, you can’t imagine how horrific it really is. Your mind just won’t let you go there.”

  He had a bad feeling about this. He figured there was only one way to ask the question. “You’re the one who found your sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?” He braced himself, having investigated a few of those types of calls over the years. It was gruesome, ugly work.

  “I tried her on the telephone but didn’t get an answer. After a couple of hours, I drove out to my parents’ house. They were gone for the weekend. She’d been dead for several hours when I found her.”