Lost Innocence

by Jannine Gallant

  “You are. Siren Cove isn’t exactly known for its crime rate.” She wadded her napkin in her fist. “You’re right, I should have been watching her more closely. I just said I’d make a lousy mother. I’ll remember not to babysit Leah’s child when she has one.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, I think you did. A little food for thought, though. I found your daughter in my backyard, twice, the day you moved in. I guess you let her out of your sight for more than a minute.”

  “I’m sorry. I overreacted, but the mental image of Keely disappearing between vehicles in a parking lot where some freak could have snatched her and driven off chilled my blood.”

  “I lectured her about safety at the time. I didn’t take it lightly, either, Teague.”

  “I’m sorry. I mean it. Obviously, I’m far from perfect and have no room to criticize you. Eat your waffle.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She pushed back her chair. “I’ll go pack my bag while you finish your breakfast.”

  “Nina, don’t leave.”

  She was halfway across the restaurant before he could finish his plea.

  He pressed fingers to his temples. “Damn, I screwed up.” When the waitress approached and gave him a hesitant look, he cleared his throat. “Can I get the check, please?”

  “Sure. Would you like me to box up your meals?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She cleared the two nearly full plates. “I’ll be right back.”

  Teague sipped his coffee though it felt like it was burning a hole in his stomach. When the server returned, he paid the bill and headed upstairs to their room. Pausing for just a second, he opened the door.

  Nina had her back to him, folding clothes into her suitcase. She didn’t bother to turn around. When he stepped closer and touched her shoulder, she flinched.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you right now?”

  Finally she turned. “About an eight, but that’s down from a thirteen.”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I apologized. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything but pack. I’m ready to leave.” She headed into the bathroom.

  Gritting his teeth, he shoved what clothes he’d removed back into his bag, then passed her on the way into the bathroom. When she made a point of not brushing against him, his temper flared.

  “Are we going to spend the next three and a half hours alone in a car together fighting?”

  She gave him a long, thoughtful look. “No. I plan to turn up the music and spend the drive thinking about what a failure I am as a human being.”

  “Nina, don’t.”

  The hands she fisted on her hips shook. “I made a mistake, and said as much, but your comments hurt. I need some time.”

  “Okay.” His heart ached. “If it helps, I’m a complete ass. I do trust you, and I’m sorry. Take all the time you need.”

  “I’m sorry, too, but maybe being sorry isn’t enough.” Her eyes were damp with tears as she met his gaze. “Maybe love isn’t enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Nina straightened the picture of the climbing roses and stepped back to critically study the arrangement of paintings on the back wall of her booth. “Perfect.”

  “That’s quite a display. You don’t usually have this many to sell, do you?”

  She glanced over at Paige, who was stocking a rack with postcards printed with photographs of her paintings, along with her contact information. “I’ve been busting my butt to complete them all. Now let’s just hope I sell a couple.”

  “I think you’ll do better than that. Did you see the traffic in town? The tourists are thick this weekend.” She turned around to lean against the counter and crossed her arms in front of her. “In fact, since you’re all set up, I should probably head back to my shop. I hope to make a killing in the next couple of days, too.”

  “I’m sure you will. Thanks for offering me a hand.”

  “Why didn’t Teague help you? Is he working today?”

  Nina swallowed as a burning knot lodged in her throat. “I’m not sure what his schedule is.” She stared down at her feet. “We’re kind of on a break.”

  “What? Why?” Stepping forward, Paige laid a hand on her arm. “What happened? I thought the two of you went away together last weekend.”

  “We did, and it was great.” Nina turned to stare out over the ocean, past the other booths set up in a long stretch above the bluffs. “Then Teague found out I let Keely out of my sight long enough for a stranger to approach her, and he went off on me.”

  “Was she in any danger?”

  “I don’t think so, but I know she could have been. I apologized, but he made me feel lower than a worm. If he doesn’t trust me, then what’s the point of being in a relationship?”

  “There isn’t any, but I’m sure you can work through this. What does he have to say about it?”

  “Teague admitted he overreacted.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “Still, I don’t know if I want to put myself in the position of being criticized every time I’m around Keely and handle something differently than he would.”

  “You think he’ll micromanage your every move?”

  “Maybe. I’m really not sure.” Nina gazed out over the ocean. “I told him I needed some time, and he’s been good about giving me space. Maybe too good.”

  “Oh, my God. You can’t fault him for that if you asked him to back off.”

  “I know. I’m still feeling a little irrational about the whole situation, but I guess we should talk again.”

  “Yes, you should,” Paige agreed. “I know you haven’t been dating him all that long, but—”

  “We talked about a more serious arrangement, at the very least spending our evenings and nights together.”

  “You’re planning to move in with him?”

  “Maybe not officially, but that was the gist of the conversation.” Nina clenched her hands at her sides. “I’ve totally fallen for the man . . . and his daughter. I want her in my life, too, but if he thinks—”

  “Stop with the conjecture. Talk to him. Compromise. You don’t need a break. You need communication.” Paige checked her phone. “Yikes, it’s time to open the shop. Are you going to be okay if I leave?”

  “Of course. Go do your thing. My hope is I’ll be so busy today I won’t have time to think about my personal life.”

  She bent to retrieve her purse from beneath the counter. “In that case, I’m out of here.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks, Paige.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After her friend left, Nina straightened a stack of business cards as she studied the people beginning to filter into the event. Maybe now was a good time to call Teague, before she got busy with browsers and the occasional serious buyer. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she jumped when it trilled.

  A glance at the display made her smile. Teague was obviously a mind reader.

  “Hi. I was actually just going to call you.”

  “You were?”

  “Paige helped me set up my booth this morning. She convinced me we need to talk.” Nina leaned on the counter and surveyed the thickening crowd. Two women wearing sensible shoes and determined expressions looked like potential buyers. “I’m sorry I’ve been so nonresponsive this week. Are you working?”

  “I went in early, or I would have offered to help load your trailer. I can stop by when the event is over to give you a hand packing up.”

  “Thanks, Teague. I’d appreciate that.”

  “Then I’ll see you around four.”

  “Sounds good.” She slid her phone into the pocket of her royal-blue capri pants. Paired with a sleeveless silk blouse, the outfit was her concession to looking professional. She had a feeling the two matronly women approaching the booth wouldn’t appreciate short shorts.

  “Good morning, ladies. I hope you’re enjoying the art fair.�
�

  “Oh, we definitely are. I love that seascape on the back wall. The colors are amazing.” The taller woman turned to her companion. “What do you think, Betty?”

  “The area rug in your dining room has those exact same shades.”

  After thirty minutes of debating the price, the potential buyer promised to think about it and return later.

  Nina grimaced as the pair walked away. “Story of my life.”

  By midafternoon, she was feeling a whole lot more optimistic as she wrapped her second sale of the day in thick protective paper and thanked the gentleman who’d purchased it as an anniversary gift for his wife. Resisting the urge to fist pump the air, she scouted the remaining art patrons for potential buyers. A couple pushing a baby stroller caught her eye, and though she suspected they were just lookers, she gave them a friendly smile.

  “Look, Oren. Don’t you love those roses? How much is . . .” The woman leaned over the counter, then drew back and tucked a strand of blond hair behind one ear. “Oh, wow. We can’t afford that.” Her smile held an edge of sadness . . . or maybe she was simply tired. When the baby in the stroller fussed and let out a yell, she lifted the child and held him close.

  At least Nina assumed the infant was a boy since he wore a navy onesie printed with sailboats.

  “He’s adorable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have postcard prints of the roses, if you’re interested.” She glanced toward the woman’s husband, but his gaze was targeted on the side wall where the picture of the fog-shrouded cove hung. “Do you like that piece? I’ll admit it’s one of my favorites.”

  “Who’s the girl in the painting?”

  The urgency in his tone struck a nerve. “Excuse me?”

  The hand he raised to point trembled slightly. “The girl standing by the water. Who is she?”

  His wife glanced up from shushing the baby and gasped. When her eyes filled with tears, Nina backed up a step.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Do you see the resemblance, hon? I’m not imagining it?” He curved an arm around his wife before refocusing on the painting.

  “She looks older, but . . .” The woman pressed up against the counter separating her from Nina. “Do you know that girl?”

  “I don’t. She was down on the beach with her mother the day I painted that piece. Adding her to the scene was a spur-of-the-moment decision since her melancholy expression mirrored the mood I was trying to capture.”

  “Her mother?” The woman’s voice caught.

  “Yes. What’s this about?”

  The man cleared his throat. “Three years ago, our daughter was kidnapped. There was no ransom request, and the police never had any substantial leads.”

  “She was only five.” The woman wiped tears from her cheeks and clutched the baby tighter. “We’ve never given up hope that someday . . .”

  “The girl in the painting looks like Emma.” Her husband’s voice broke. “Older, but the resemblance is striking. The pointed chin, and the way her brows arch. Those eyes . . .”

  “Excuse me. I’ve decided to purchase the seascape.”

  Nina tore her gaze from the emotion-ravaged faces of the couple and blinked. The tall woman who’d been her first browser of the day pulled her credit card out of her purse and waved it. Her companion gave the husband and wife an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry. I need to . . .”

  “Of course.” The man pushed the stroller out of the way, but the two didn’t go far. Heads bent, they spoke quietly together.

  Nina forced a smile for her customer. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

  “I didn’t change it. I just decided to splurge this one time. My dining room is going to look amazing with that painting hanging over the buffet.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Nina lifted the frame off the hook and laid the picture on the back table. “I’ll wrap it for you.”

  The woman selected one of Nina’s business cards and dropped it into her purse. “My husband and I intend to redecorate our master bedroom this fall. I’ll keep you in mind when it comes time to choose artwork.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  The excitement she’d normally feel at having made a new client faded as the mother of the baby cried softly on her husband’s shoulder. When he pulled his cell from his pocket and made a call, grim determination drew his brows together as he stared in her direction. A knot formed in Nina’s stomach. With shaking hands, she finished wrapping the painting and taped the provenance encased in a plastic sleeve to the back.

  “Here you go.” She laid the seascape on the counter and ran the woman’s credit card. “The frame is a little awkward to carry.” Catching sight of Teague approaching from the direction of the parking lot, some of the tension in her body released. “Would you like some help getting it back to your car?”

  “Oh, no. I’m as strong as a horse.” After the woman returned her card to her purse and signed the receipt, she hefted the painting. “Thank you very much.”

  “I hope you enjoy your painting.”

  “I intend to.” She and her friend detoured around Teague and headed back through the row of booths.

  “I see you made a sale. Congratulations.”

  “My third of the day, and that woman promises to be a repeat customer.”

  “That’s great.” His gaze held determination as he stepped up to the counter and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “Are you about ready to pack up?”

  She nodded as her heart beat a little faster. Apparently Teague wasn’t going to let her keep her distance. Relief filled her.

  “Are they potential customers?” He nodded toward the couple with the baby. “They keep looking this way, but the woman seems upset. Are your prices too steep for their budget?”

  “No, they think—” She stopped speaking when the man and woman approached, pushing the stroller.

  “I’ve contacted the detective in charge of our daughter’s kidnapping case. He’s been in touch with the local police, and someone should be here shortly.” The man held tight to the stroller’s handle, and his knuckles gleamed white. “Please don’t take that painting anywhere before the officer gets here.”

  Teague glanced from the man back to her. “Nina, what’s going on?”

  When she ducked beneath the counter to stand beside him, he slid an arm around her waist. “They believe a girl I painted on the beach might be their lost daughter.”

  An awkward silence followed before the woman spoke. “We have to know for sure. Even if we’re wrong, we have to know.”

  “I’m happy to share any information about her I have with the police, but it isn’t much more than I’ve already told you.” Nina’s gaze shifted toward the parking lot. “Here comes Chris now. Let’s hope we can get this straightened out.”

  “Chris?” The man turned and narrowed his eyes.

  “Officer Long. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “Isn’t that just perfect.” The woman’s voice rose. “If you had something to do with—”

  “I can assure you I didn’t.”

  “Let’s not throw around accusations.” Teague’s tone was hard. “If you lost your daughter, you have my sincere sympathy, but I can assure you Nina doesn’t have anyone stashed in her attic.”

  “I’m sorry, but seeing that painting . . .”

  The woman’s face crumpled, and she struggled to hold back tears as Chris reached them. When the baby in the stroller started to cry, she picked him up and rocked him. The motion seemed to calm them both.

  “Hi, Nina.” Chris nodded to Teague before turning to study the couple. “Are you the Herringtons? I’m Officer Long.”

  When he held out a hand, the man shook it. “I’m Oren Herrington, and this is my wife, Patricia.”

  “I spoke to Detective O’Roarke down in Medford. He sent me a photograph of your daughter from the time of the kidnapping.” Turning, he faced Nina. “Can I take a look at the painting of the gi
rl?”

  “Of course.” She pointed. “It’s the foggy one on the side wall. Would you like me to lift it down?”

  “Please.”

  After ducking back into the booth, she unhooked the painting and placed it on the counter.

  Patricia Herrington stepped closer. “Compare this girl to our Emma, Officer Long. You’ll see we aren’t delusional.”

  Chris tapped his phone a few times and held it up next to the painting. After a moment he glanced over at Nina. “There’s a resemblance, but it’s hard to say. You saw this girl in person. What do you think?”

  Nina couldn’t stop staring at the face of the young girl on his phone. A happy smile curved her lips. So very different from the sadness she’d seen shadowing the eyes of the girl on the beach. She studied the face with the critical eye of an artist. The nose was the same, and the shape of her ear. Emma’s cheeks were a little rounder, a chubbiness that may have thinned over time.

  “The basic markers are there. I’m an artist, not a forensic scientist, but in my opinion your daughter would look very much like the girl I saw on the beach when she’s older.”

  Mrs. Herrington clutched the counter. “You think she’s our Emma? You see it, too?”

  “Or maybe she’s just a child who looks similar to your daughter. There’s a definite resemblance.”

  “Officer, is there a way to find her, speak to her? If she lives here in town . . .”

  Chris lifted a questioning brow. “Do you know who she is, Nina?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t. Keely spoke to her on a different occasion, and the girl told her she’s homeschooled. I remember because we discussed it afterward. I think she said her name is Lynne or Lynda. No, it was Lynette.”

  The officer crossed his arms over his chest. “Who’s Keely?”

  “My daughter.” Teague stepped forward. “The mother of this girl in the painting approached Keely twice after she met her on the beach, once in the park and once on our street. She asked about a playdate.”

  “Do you know where she lives?” Oren Herrington’s voice rose. “If there’s even a chance the girl is Emma—”

  “I have no idea. Possibly somewhere in our neighborhood since the woman was on foot.”