Too Close to Home

by Lynette Eason

Well, she had some idea. She liked the guy, found him interesting, not to mention extremely attractive. And he was taller than she. A major plus. But he was a cop. A major downer.

  Poor guy. He’d looked so embarrassed after he’d blurted out the invitation that she just didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

  Yeah, right.

  Now she headed west down Main Street, contemplating her impulsive acceptance and wondering what his mother and daughter would think. She had the feeling he didn’t issue this kind of invitation very often—if at all. She grabbed her cell phone and punched in Jamie’s number.

  Two rings later, a hesitant voice answered. “Samantha?”

  As always, there was an edge of timidity in her sister’s voice that nearly killed Sam. And yet, Jamie didn’t sound nearly as bad as she used to. Like she’d pass out in a dead faint if you just thought the word “boo” in her presence. She’d definitely made progress.

  “Hey, Jamie, I’ve got some last-minute plans. Can we reschedule?” “Reschedule?”

  Brake lights flashed, then his left turn signal came on. Samantha followed him into one of the nicer neighborhoods in town. Almost immediately, he turned right into a driveway. The garage door opened and he pulled his car in.

  “Yeah, I’ve had something come up. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?”

  “Um. Okay. Work related?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then, I . . . think I’m going to walk down to the little café on the corner and grab a sandwich. I think. Maybe.”

  Disbelief nearly sent Sam careening into the mailbox. Automatically, she corrected her turn, but couldn’t help the little screech that erupted from her. “What?”

  Quickly, she reined in her shock. “Uh, well, yeah, sure. That sounds . . . great. Good. Call Tom and let him know, will you?”

  “Sure. So, I’ll, um . . . talk to you tomorrow, right?”

  Sam parked in the drive behind him, turned off the engine, and released her seat belt. And just sat there. “You bet. Bye.”

  She clicked off, staring at the man approaching her.

  What in the world are you doing, Sam? She didn’t have an answer for her own question, so she took a deep breath and sent a prayer heavenward. Lord, whatever I’m doing, let it be the right thing, please? Oh, and about Jamie? Thanks!

  The house stood magnificent with the sun setting behind it. The place Connor had once called home was a two-story red brick with white columns that ran the length of the front porch. Four white rockers swayed gently in the evening breeze. From what she could see of the lawn, professional landscapers had had a grand time.

  He knocked on her window and she climbed out of the car. He asked, “You ready to meet the crew?”

  “Ah, sure. I’m ready if you’re ready.”

  “Come on in then. I’ll just be blunt. I’ve never brought a woman home for dinner, so please don’t hold me responsible for any embarrassing comments, okay?”

  Poor thing, he really did look worried. Sam shut the car door. Patting him on the arm, she said lightly, “Don’t worry about it. I have a sister who’s ten years younger than I am. I’m used to embarrassment.”

  His brows furrowed tighter. “I’ve already explained that Jenna and I aren’t on the best of terms lately, right? There’s no telling what she’s going to say when she sees you.”

  “She’s sixteen. I can handle her, I promise.”

  He raised his eyes and blew out a breath. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And speaking of warning, I probably should tell you that you look . . .”

  He stopped, indecision written on his face.

  Curious about what he was going to say, but not wanting to push him into finishing the sentence if he didn’t want to, Samantha ignored the flutter in her gut and grinned at him. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

  Connor walked up the driveway and opened the front door. “Mom? Jenna? We’re here.”

  Samantha gasped at the beauty of the foyer. Marble graced the floor, and a gold and crystal chandelier lit up the entryway. Gorgeous polished hardwood steps wound upward to flow into the second floor. “Wow.”

  “Huh?” Connor looked at her with a puzzled expression.

  “This house. Wow.”

  He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the admiration. “Yeah, it’s nice. Old money. Mom’s money. Dad used to be a cop, but gave that up when he met Mom.”

  Something in his voice caught her attention, but she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it.

  “Connor?”

  “Hi, Mom.” Connor greeted a very stylish woman in her late sixties. The comfortable, yet obviously expensive, blue jumpsuit accentuated her blue eyes. The same eyes that peered from Connor’s handsome face.

  “Mom, I want you to meet someone who’s helping with the case. This is Special Agent Samantha Cash, computer genius. Samantha, this is my mother, Amanda Wolfe.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Wolfe. It’s nice to meet you.” Samantha held out her hand.

  The woman made no move to take it. She just stared openmouthed at Samantha.

  “Mom?” Connor prompted.

  The woman snapped her mouth shut and reached slowly to clasp Samantha’s hand in a warm, firm grip.

  “Please, darling, call me Amanda. The pleasure is all mine.”

  Sam caught the questioning look she shot Connor. Nope, he didn’t invite women home. But there was something else . . .

  “Dad?”

  The voice from the top of the stairs brought all three heads swiveling to look up.

  Samantha met the gaze of a young girl. This had to be Jenna. In a word, she was stunning, a female replica of her father. Samantha smiled, but when Jenna just stared, Sam let her smile slip and her puzzlement show.

  The girl slowly walked down the steps until she was just a few feet away. Her colorless face had the stricken look of someone who’s been delivered some bad, life-changing news. Sam’s confusion blossomed into full-fledged shock when the girl whispered, “Mama?”

  Samantha drew back in confusion. “What?” That was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

  Connor nearly sucked all the air out of the room at his daughter’s one-word question.

  Samantha’s head spun. What in the world?

  Connor didn’t seem able to come up with a response, so Samantha offered her hand to the pale girl. “No, I’m Samantha Cash. I was helping your dad with a case. Do I look like your mother or something?”

  “Or something,” Amanda Wolfe muttered. “Connor, what in heaven’s name were you thinking bringing her here without some warning?”

  “Mom . . .”

  The woman ignored Connor’s embarrassed plea, then turned to Samantha. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like you aren’t welcome. It’s just that . . . well . . . you’re a dead ringer for Julia Wolfe, Jenna’s mother.”

  “Ah . . . maybe I’d better go.” Samantha backed toward door, ignoring the temptation to wring Connor’s neck for putting her in this awkward situation.

  “No,” Connor protested, “look, I’m really sorry. I thought it was just me. I mean, yeah, I was shocked when I first saw you, but once I spent some time with you, it kind of wore off. Honestly. It’s just the initial meeting. You really don’t look that much like her.”

  “Really?”

  “No, you do resemble her, but I do want you to stay.”

  “Yeah, please,” Jenna asked. “Stay.”

  Samantha could have ignored Connor’s invitation, but when she looked into Jenna’s pleading eyes, she caved. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “Definitely.” Connor’s mother took over then, all hesitation and shock seemingly forgotten. “Come on, everyone, let’s go sit down and eat. Connor, will you take a tray up to your father? He just can’t seem to kick that nasty cold he picked up somewhere.”

  “Sure, Mom, I’ll be glad to.”

  Connor followed his mother into the kitchen, leaving Samantha and Jenna to bring up the rear. The girl still hadn’t
taken her eyes from Sam’s face.

  Samantha smiled, trying to ease the girl’s shock. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really. And Dad’s right. I can see the differences. But when I first saw you . . .” Jenna’s eyes finally slid away and she stared at the floor.

  “Well, I’m starved. Come on, let’s grab some of that food that smells totally delicious.” On impulse, Sam wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and gave her a slight squeeze.

  Jenna responded by tearing up and whispering, “I miss my mom. When I saw you standing there beside Dad, I thought . . .”

  Sam felt relieved when Connor interrupted the conversation by coming back down the steps from his dad’s room.

  “Hey, you guys coming? I’m hungry enough to eat the entire spread all by my lonesome.”

  “We’re coming.” Samantha let her arm drop, gave Jenna one more reassuring smile, and headed for the dining room.

  Connor gestured toward two empty chairs, and Sam grabbed the nearest one. Jenna chose the one beside her.

  Once seated, Connor’s mother started passing the food. Jenna scooped a slice of roast on her plate, then asked, “So, what does your family think about you being a cop, Samantha?”

  Sam looked at the girl, who kept her attention fully focused on the plate before her. “They’re all right with it, I suppose. They worry about me sometimes, of course, but have accepted this is what I do, who I am.”

  Jenna shot her dad a look, one that Samantha couldn’t interpret. Just as the girl opened her mouth to say something else, a loud beeping filled the air. Sam slapped at her side and pulled her phone out of its sling. She looked at the screen. Nothing. Huh?

  “It’s me.” Connor looked grim and tight-lipped. “A text message. We’ve gotta go. Another girl’s disappeared.”

  6

  Jenna stared at the computer screen, the blinking cursor mocking her. Should she type it?

  2COOL2BLV had just asked her to set up a time to meet him. Excitement trembled within her. But she trusted him, right? So, why did her finger hover over the enter key, hesitating?

  Because another girl had disappeared and her dad was worried she might be next. Of course, if he was around more, he could make sure she was safe. So, if she met this guy and something happened to her, it would be her dad’s fault, right? Just like if he’d been there that night her mom died, maybe her mom wouldn’t have—

  Jenna shut off those thoughts, twitched her finger to press enter . . . when her phone rang.

  She jumped, heart pounding with excitement-induced adrenalin. Snatching up her cell phone, she slapped a hand over her racing heart and swallowed hard. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Oh, hi, Patty. What do you mean? I’m at home on the computer. Where are you?” Music pounded in the background; she could barely hear her friend over the noise.

  “Get your tail over to Mason’s house. We’ve got a major party going on here.”

  Jenna shut her eyes. She could just imagine what her dad would have to say about that. But then again, he probably wouldn’t even be coming back home tonight, so what did it matter?

  “Give me a few to get ready. Can you come get me? I’m so not into the whole city bus thing.”

  An impatient sigh echoed in her ear. “You’ve so got to get your license. Your dad is the biggest loser.”

  Now that was uncalled for. She snapped, “Maybe so, but he’s still my dad, so back off. Now come get me or forget it.” She changed the subject. “Did you hear? There’s another girl missing.”

  “No way. Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Dad didn’t say her name, just took off out of here. I’ve got something else to tell you about too.” She twisted a strand of hair as she wondered whether she should tell Patty about the woman her dad had brought home for supper. But the words didn’t form. Jenna couldn’t even decide what she thought about Samantha.

  She looked at her backpack in the corner. Six key chains dangled there. Key chains her mother had picked out especially for Jenna. She fingered one, a bright sun with extended rays. Underneath it said, “You are my sunshine.”

  Jenna missed her mom—a lot. But in just the few moments she’d spent with Samantha, she’d felt drawn to her.

  Samantha. She rolled the name around in her head. A pretty name. And a woman who’d given her a flash of hope. Hope that her mother wasn’t really dead, that it had all been a bad dream.

  But it wasn’t. Samantha wasn’t her mom. Just a nice lady who kind of looked like Mom. No, her dad had stolen her mom away from her. Pain lanced her every time she remembered that night—

  “What is it? Hello? Jenna, you there?” Patty had to yell over the music.

  “Never mind. Look, can you ditch the party and come over here? I’ve got something I want you to see.”

  The cursor blinked on. Taunting her. Daring her.

  “Aw, Jen, come on. Mason’s been looking at me all night. I mean, I’ve been waiting for this forever, you know? And Bradley’s here.”

  Her heart flipped. Bradley was there? “What’s he doing there? I didn’t think he was into that kind of thing.”

  “He came with Jeff and Stuart. I heard him arguing about wanting to go home, that they didn’t have any business being here.” She giggled. “I so don’t know what you see in him other than the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

  Jenna looked at the screen.

  Bradley or 2COOL?

  She clicked off and grabbed up her brush. “Okay, come get me. I guess this other stuff can wait. I’ll meet you around the corner. My grandparents are already upstairs in bed, so see you in a few.”

  “And this makes seven.” Connor hitched a deep breath and approached the ranch-style brick house. Samantha accompanied him and he welcomed her presence. After all, she’d be the one to look at the computer.

  Because he was sure there was a computer.

  Normally, he wouldn’t be notified of a simple possible runaway, but he’d requested all young girl disappearances be put straight to him. He’d be relieved if it turned out to be nothing more than teen angst or a temper tantrum taken too far. Unfortunately, his gut told him not to hold his breath. Andrew pulled up to the curb and hopped out of his vintage Corvette to join them.

  A sharp rap on the white-painted door summoned a haggard mother and worried father. The woman gushed, “Oh, thank God you’re here. The sooner you start looking for her, the sooner she’ll be home.”

  Hating to squelch the hope, Connor didn’t bother to comment. As always, the thought of what he would be feeling if it were Jenna who were missing filled him . . . and compassion for the couple before him set in. “Hello, Mrs. Abrams, Mr. Abrams. I’m Connor Wolfe, my partner, Andrew West, and Special Agent Samantha Cash, our computer expert.”

  Mr. Abrams widened the door and gestured the trio inside. “Go on into the living room. We can talk in there. I’m Dennis and this is Maggie.”

  Connor motioned for Sam to precede him into the tastefully decorated formal area. Mrs. Adams twisted a much-used tissue between shaky fingers as she seated herself on the pristine white leather couch. Samantha and Connor took the matching love seat and Andrew helped himself to the wing-backed chair near the window while Dennis shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the fireplace mantel.

  Connor pulled out a pad and pen. He looked at Mrs. Abrams. “All right, can you tell us when you last saw Miranda?”

  “She was talking to her best friend, Alyssa Mabry, on the phone. They were trying to figure out how to get that thing called a webcam operating.” She waved a hand as though she didn’t understand the technology young people used these days.

  Sam perked up. “After we finish getting the information from you, do you mind if I take a look at her computer?”

  “Of course, if you think it’ll help.”

  Connor made a notation on his pad, then looked back up.

  Andrew stepped in to ask, “Do you have a picture of Miranda we cou
ld take with us?”

  Dennis strode over to the piano tucked in the corner of the large room and pulled the five-by-seven photo from the top. He stood for a moment staring down at it, took a deep breath, and walked back over to Andrew and gave it to him. “That’s her soccer picture. She loves sports and is well on her way to a soccer scholarship. Very athletic.”

  Connor had seen the picture when he entered but took another look when Andrew held it out to him. “Pretty too.” Bright red hair pulled up into a ponytail with tendrils framing a heart-shaped face with full lips. Green eyes laughed at the camera, a smattering of freckles dotted her nose. One foot balanced on the soccer ball, hands on her hips, she had a carefree innocence about her that gripped Connor’s heart with dread. Even if he found her, he was afraid that innocence would be stripped forever.

  “Yes, but she didn’t really care much about her looks until lately. Just recently she’s gotten interested in modeling. Up until a few months ago, she was more interested in sports, school, and her friends . . .” The man couldn’t continue as his voice cracked.

  Andrew asked, “Did she seem troubled lately? Upset with anyone?”

  Mrs. Abrams shook her head, fresh tears glinting at her husband’s distress. “No, in fact, just the opposite. She seemed excited, energized.” A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “She doesn’t get down often, doesn’t really fight with her friends or us.” A sigh slipped out. “Don’t get me wrong. She isn’t perfect, but I’m not aware of any serious problems or issues she might be having. She was just so excited about getting that soccer scholarship—” Silent sobs finally choked off the woman’s words and her husband moved to stand behind her, hands resting on her shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

  Connor looked at Sam. She averted her gaze, but not before he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. Softhearted, compassionate. His own heart clenched in sympathy.

  Clearing his throat, he forced himself to focus. “Do you mind if we search her room?”

  Miranda’s father shook his head. “No, anything. Just find her.”

  While Connor and Andrew stood at the foot of the steps discussing the possible need to give Sheriff Chesterfield a call, Samantha made her way up the stairs to Miranda’s room. She’d volunteered to take the pictures of the room. Since no crime had been committed here, they hadn’t called in a forensics team, but Samantha still wanted to preserve the scene as it was.