by Lisa Harris
“I never wanted the things you gave me. But I’m your son. I guess I thought you’d accept me no matter what career I chose to follow.”
“It was never about you choosing your own way,” his father said. “It was about family and tradition, and you gave all of that up, for what? The chance to wear a cheap suit and tie and carry a badge?”
Garrett fought to control his anger. It was happening again. No matter how many times he promised himself he wouldn’t sink to his father’s level, he found himself wanting to jump into the ring and fight. All these years later, and they were still dealing with resentments neither one could let go of.
“But what if the tradition you’re talking about wasn’t what I wanted?” Garrett said. “I guess I thought that maybe what I wanted might matter to you.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
“When have you not gotten what you want?”
“Have you seen your mother recently?”
“I spoke with her yesterday,” Garrett said.
“Did she tell you she walked out on me?”
“What?”
“I guess she forgot to mention that little detail. It’s been a month now. She filed for a divorce. Thought she would have already told you by now.”
Garrett felt a sickness wash through him. No matter how frustrated his parents made him, this wasn’t what he wanted for them. “Is that why you’re drinking again?”
“A Scotch now and then doesn’t mean I’ve fallen off the wagon. Have you ever wondered where that expression came from?” He let out a low laugh. “During Prohibition back in the ’20s, men used to climb up on water wagons that were used to sprinkle water on the ground in order to keep the dust down, and they’d take an oath that they’d give up alcohol and drink nothing more than water. Can you believe that? When they started drinking again, it was said that they fell off the wagon.”
“Dad, stop. She’s worried about you.”
“Sorry.” His father nodded toward the door. “I really should get ready. I’m supposed to meet with a client soon.”
“Who are you meeting with today?” Garrett asked.
“Like I already said, it’s no one you need concern yourself with. Nothing your mother needs to worry about.”
Meaning, none of your business. “I’ve heard rumors that one of the higher-ups of the Albanian Mafia is in town. If that’s who you’re planning to meet with—”
“Wait a minute. So is this what it’s come to? You’re now some hotshot in law enforcement, and you think you can come after me and accuse me of being in bed with the Mafia?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. But if you’re working for the wrong kind of people . . .”
His dad headed for the door. “You’re just jealous. Your mother could never handle my success and you . . . you can’t either.”
Garrett gave up. He’d never cared about success the way his father had. All he’d really wanted was to be a part of his father’s life and be accepted for his choices. That was never going to happen.
His father opened the door. “That is why you shouldn’t have come.”
Garrett froze at the words, his arms at his sides in defeat. Silence hung between them. Seconds passed, then he crossed the room and walked out the door.
15
May 21
2:37 p.m.
Spring Hollow Cemetery
Jordan stood on the cemetery’s freshly mowed lawn, her black maxi-dress blowing in the afternoon breeze as the minister said the final prayer in front of her mother’s casket. She pulled the dark-gray cardigan tighter around her shoulders, cold despite the warm breeze. She’d known this day was coming for weeks, and yet it still seemed so unexpected. So raw. Somehow she thought she’d have more time. Barely sixteen months had passed since finding out about her mother’s cancer. Sixteen months hadn’t been enough time to say her goodbyes.
She stood with her father, Clara, and Alex. A row of gravestones lined up in front of them, making the significance of today seem even more real. Not long ago, her mom had still been fairly alert. She’d spent her time reminiscing about the past. She’d told stories of her own childhood, of how she’d met their father, then listened while Jordan and Clara told their own favorite memories from their childhood.
And now today they were burying her.
Jordan gnawed on her lip, trying to stop the flow of tears. She knew she needed to let go, but even the knowledge that her mother was no longer suffering on this earth wasn’t enough to erase the physical pain of missing her.
She grabbed her father’s hand and leaned against his shoulder at the final amens from the small group gathered around the gravesite. It was over, and she wasn’t sure how to move on.
Her father squeezed her hand, then wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you for being here. I can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me. To your mother as well.”
“You know I wouldn’t have been anywhere else. I just wish so badly I could take away the pain you’re feeling. I know you miss her so much.”
He pulled her hand up to his chest. “You always were my fixer, but there are some things that even you can’t undo.”
“I know. And I knew it would be hard, but today . . .”
She couldn’t quite find the words to say goodbye. Part of her still believed she’d turn around and see her mother walking toward them, across the manicured lawns of the cemetery, to tell them it had all been a mistake.
“She’s with her Jesus, Jordan. A far better place than this world. She was ready.”
“My head knows that, but even that knowledge only barely scrapes away the pain of how much I miss her.”
“I know.” Her father squeezed her hand. “But we’ll get through this together. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t have any besides being with you.”
She couldn’t tell him that she longed for a distraction, like looking through emails and reports that had piled up since she’d come home. But today wasn’t the day for that.
“Good, because there’s enough food at the house from the women at the church to feed an army. Once we’re done here, I thought we could go through some of the pictures of your mom. I’d like to put together some kind of photo album, but you know I’m not good at that.”
Jordan nodded at the suggestion. “I’d like that. Clara’s driving you home, and I’ll be right behind you.”
She glanced behind her. Several people waited to speak to her father, including Clara. And there was someone Jordan needed to talk to as well.
She hugged Clara, then turned around. Garrett stood near the edges of the dispersing crowd, watching her. She made her way across the grass, past the freshly turned dirt where they’d just buried her mother. She’d seen him arrive right before the funeral started and had hoped she’d get the chance to speak with him before he left.
“Thank you for coming.” She tried not to think about how handsome he looked in his charcoal-gray suit and white-collared shirt. Or that the last time she’d seen him he’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. No matter what her head kept telling her, she knew her heart had never completely let go.
“I wish there was something I could do,” he said. “I know how close the two of you were.”
“I’m still trying to grasp the idea that she’s gone. I don’t think I expected to miss her this much. I picked up the phone to tell her something yesterday before I remembered she was gone.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
“How’s your father?”
“Strong on the outside. Concerned about me, like he’s been my entire life, but I know how much he’s hurting.”
“The grieving process takes time, and everyone goes through it differently. He’s lucky that he has the best two daughters a father could ask for. Does he know what he’s going to do now?”
“We told him he shouldn’t make any decisions right away, but he’s already thinking about selling the
store. Actually, I think he’s been thinking about it ever since we found out my mom was sick. But while I can’t imagine him going into work by himself every day, I also know that he loves that store. Still, it was his and mom’s store. Something they worked at together.”
“Good advice, but you’re right. It can’t be easy for him.”
“Clara’s offered for him to move in with her and Alex, thinking he won’t be as lonely living there. They have a basement with a guest room and bathroom, but I don’t know if that’s going to be enough. Especially if he sells the store. He’ll need a purpose.”
“Your family needs time to grieve. And while it won’t always be easy, he’ll figure out what his new role is.”
“I just don’t want him to sell the store and then regret it later. I think he needs something to keep him going. Mama and the store were his life, and without those two things . . . I’m not sure what he’s going to do.”
“He’s got you.”
She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, but the wind was playing with her untamable curls. They felt out of control, just like her life seemed at the moment. She knew God was right here in the middle of their loss, but sometimes . . . sometimes it was hard to feel him there.
“What are you thinking?” Garrett asked.
“My mother lived a hard but full life, and while I miss her like crazy, I know my father’s right about one thing. She was ready to go at the end. And I didn’t want to see her suffer any longer. I guess that’s the one thing that makes all of this okay and gives me some peace.”
“That’s what I’ve always loved about your family. The way you help and love each other.”
“Did you see your father while he was in town?”
He started walking again, then sat down on a wooden bench overlooking the endless lawn. “I went to see him Wednesday morning.”
“You did?” She tried to read his expression, but couldn’t.
“You were right about one thing. I haven’t really made an effort to spend time with him. But I’m not sure that matters anymore.”
“I just didn’t want you to regret your relationship with him. I might have been close to my mom, but that doesn’t mean I did everything I should have for her. And I’ve realized now that, once they’re gone, it’s too late.” She looked up at him. “How did he respond?”
“I guess I had these high hopes that everything would somehow work out between us.”
“You don’t look like that happened.”
“It didn’t. He told me I shouldn’t have come.”
“He didn’t mean that.”
“I think he did. But I’m realizing that sometimes you can’t fix people or relationships. Sometimes all you can fix is yourself. You have to forgive them, love them, and then move on. It’s what I’m going to have to do.”
She started to take his hand, then stopped. Like the kiss they’d shared, it suddenly seemed too . . . intimate. Instead, she told him how sorry she was.
“Me too,” Garrett said. “Especially because he seemed so alone. Hard, and yet tired. Honestly, I felt sorry for him. He’s pushed everyone away. Everyone who doesn’t do what he expects them to do. But enough about my family saga. Today’s about your family, not mine. Do you know how long you’re planning to stay?”
“I’ll leave in a few days. I’ve been on bereavement leave, but I have plenty of unused vacation days, so I’m already planning to come back as soon as I can.”
“Have you ever thought about moving closer?”
She hesitated with her answer, wondering for a moment if he was asking for her family’s sake or for his own. What she did know was that she still thought about him. Missed his smile and the way he made her laugh. The way he listened to her and always knew what to say.
And now she was leaving again.
“I have thought about transferring, actually. Especially recently. There are several FBI posts here in Tennessee that would put me a whole lot closer to my family.”
“What about your family?” Garrett said. “Can I do anything for your dad?”
“Maybe call from time to time, or come see him? He’s got a pretty good support group at his church, but I know he’d love to see you.”
“I can do that.”
“Do you have an update on the case?” she asked, changing the subject.
She didn’t mention that every few months over the past year and a half she’d gone over the Angel Abductor case files to see if she could find anything they’d missed. Because not finding him meant that there was a chance he was going to kill someone else.
Like Sarah.
“What’s the latest about Sarah? I haven’t watched the news the past couple days. Has she been found?”
“There’s still no sign of her. It’s like we’re spinning our wheels, not making any traction. We’ve got the public and media involved, but so far every lead turns out to be a dead end. In the meantime, he’s still out there—along with Sarah—and the case is growing cold.”
“I’m sorry.” Jordan caught the frustration in his voice. “I’ve gone over the files you brought me the other night. And while I can give you analysis after analysis, in the end, that’s all it is. There just isn’t enough evidence for me to go on.”
“Forget about that for now. You need to be with your family.”
“I know, but another girl might be dead. We have to find a way to stop this guy.”
“We will. But you need to promise you’ll take off as much time as you need,” Garrett said.
“Okay, I promise, but I need to do something to keep my mind off things. And as for you, I don’t think it will hurt for you to have an extra pair of eyes.”
“Your input is always welcome, you know that.”
“It’s one of those cases I haven’t been able to shake.” She’d dreamed about them at night. Jessica, Julia, Sarah, and the others. She tried to save them over and over, but she was never able to get to them in time. Instead she’d stumble across their half-buried bodies. Too late to save them.
“I just can’t help but think . . .” She paused, not sure she wanted to verbalize her question. One of the things that had drawn her to Garrett when they first met was his faith. They’d had many discussions about how their faith could impact the careers they’d chosen. Hearing him talk about his faith was something she missed.
“Think what, Jordan?” he probed.
“Dana Kerrigan asked a question that day we were in her daughter’s room. She asked where God was when Julia was abducted, then murdered.”
“I couldn’t hear everything you talked about. What did you say?”
“I should have been able to answer, but I didn’t know what to say. I analyze cases every day. Tragic cases, where I have to put aside my feelings because the details are so horrible, that if I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to get up in the morning and go back to work. But I still didn’t know what to say to her.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. It’s a question people have been asking for centuries. Think about how many of the psalms are cries to God for help.”
He might be right, but Mrs. Kerrigan’s question had haunted Jordan. She wanted to believe that her faith was stronger than this. That she could have said something that would have made a difference.
“Do you ever ask yourself that question?” she asked.
“Yeah. I do.” He caught her gaze. “My sister-in-law lost a baby last year. She was five months along and it devastated her and my brother. It was a little girl they named Anna Grace.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. My brother told me that everyone had answers for them, but they just ended up making him angry. Like everything happens for a reason. Heaven needed their baby. Even that she shouldn’t worry, because they could have another child.”
“Except another child would never be Anna Grace.”
“Exactly.”
“They didn’t lose Anna because they didn’t pray enough, or because they didn
’t say the right things, no matter what people said.”
“No. But sometimes it’s easier to spout off pat answers than dig deeper and ask the questions that aren’t so easily answered.”
Jordan drew in a deep breath, wishing she could simply skip over this day . . . this part of life. “I’m supposed to know how to deal with this, Garrett. I was trained for this, and yet I feel so powerless. We can’t stop this guy. We have no idea who he is or when he’s going to strike again. Dana’s question is one I can’t answer. Where was God when these girls were abducted and terrified? I joined law enforcement to stop people like this.”
Garrett leaned forward and rested his elbows against his thighs. “I’m not sure I have the answer. I know that we live in a fallen world, but even that seems like too pat an answer.”
Sometimes she felt God’s presence, but other times, she felt as if her faith was hanging on by a thread.
“You need to go,” he said, nodding toward the group of mourners leaving for their cars. “Your father needs you.”
“I know,” she said. “But you need to find this guy, Garrett. You need to find him before he kills Sarah. We can’t let it happen. Not again. Because how can you tell another family that their daughter isn’t coming home?”
16
January 19
9:34 a.m.
Nashville International Airport
Jordan stepped out of the passenger pickup area in front of the Nashville Airport to find Garrett waiting for her.
“Thanks for picking me up, stranger,” she said, dropping her carry-on onto the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Though I’m second-guessing my agreeing to come. It’s freezing here.”
“And unfortunately, the temperature’s predicted to drop another few degrees by the end of the day,” he said, turning up the heater a notch. “But it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
Eight months to be exact, since Sarah Boyd vanished without a trace. And while Jordan had continued as a consultant on the case via regular conference calls, it had taken a sixth missing girl to bring her back to Nashville.