by Debra Webb
“What can I get you folks to drink?”
“Water,” Mel said automatically.
“The same,” Ryan echoed. “And two coffees. We can both use some caffeine,” he said to Mel.
“Cream? Sugar?” The waitress gave Mel a cursory glance and she shook her head.
Ryan held up a hand. “None for me,” he said in that deep, husky voice that sounded a little scratchier than usual. He hadn’t slept, either.
Hypocrite, Mel thought dryly. He would rant at her for doing the very same thing he did. But that was Ryan. Do as he said not as he did.
“What do you recommend?” he asked casually as he scanned the menu.
“That you treat me like an equal,” she said flatly. When his gaze collided with hers she added, “I know it’s difficult for you since you’re smarter and stronger than the rest of us, but try, would you?”
Ryan closed the menu and set it carefully aside. What did she want from him? He was here. He was looking into her child’s disappearance when every instinct warned him that it would end badly. What else did she want?
“I don’t know what you mean.” He shouldered out of his coat and let it fall over the back of his chair.
She shook her head and heaved a breath of exasperation. “Of course you don’t. You never have.”
He reclined fully in his chair and braced his right arm on the back of the chair beside him. “I’m here. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, kept you informed and working on the case against my better judgment. What else do you want me to do?” Indignation and something that felt entirely too much like hurt knotted in his empty gut. Hell, he hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday himself. Not good.
Another shake of that pretty blond head. “Just forget it. You’re never going to see it.” She pushed her fingertips up the bridge of her nose and across her closed lids. “The…ah…” She opened her eyes and picked up the menu. “The burgers are good, cooked the old-fashioned way. I’ve had the ham and cheese before, it’s good, too.”
“Who is he?”
The question came out of nowhere. He hadn’t meant to ask. She definitely hadn’t expected him to judging by her startled expression.
“What?”
She pretended not to understand but, too late, he saw comprehension in her eyes. She knew exactly what he was asking. She knew and she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Who did you run to after you left me?” Unbridled fury burst into flames inside him. He had to consciously refrain from slamming the fist his hand had instantly curled into against the table. He wanted the truth. He wanted to shake her…to kiss her and make her admit that it had never been as good with anyone else. He wanted to hear her say she’d made a monumental mistake.
With the blink of an eye she schooled that caught-in-the-web-of-deception expression into one of calm, cool indignation. “That’s none of your business. Any more than who you’ve been involved with since we parted ways is any of mine.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping sarcasm. “That’s right. When it’s over, you move on, right? No looking back.” He laughed dryly, the sound scarcely a laugh at all. “I guess I missed that part somewhere along the line when I learned about relationships. I keep trying to figure out how we got to this point.”
A haunted look abruptly replaced the indignation. “Don’t do this, Ryan,” she pleaded with such pain, with such desperation that he flinched. “Don’t make this about us….”
He closed his eyes against the devastation in those familiar green eyes. He was an ass. A selfish fool and that had been a low blow. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re right. I—”
“What’s it gonna be, folks?”
Saved by the waitress.
He’d almost said more than he intended…more than she needed to know.
Some things were better left buried.
* * *
MEL CLOSED and locked the door before Ryan could ask to come in. He’d wanted to…she’d felt the anticipation in him, the curiosity. But she couldn’t be with him right now, not on any level. And she couldn’t share her home with him, she’d worked too hard to keep him—even thoughts of him—out of her life.
She sagged against the door and let the emotions overwhelm her. Something had changed at lunch. The tension had moved to a new place…one she feared she was reading wholly wrong.
She couldn’t think about that. Pushing off from the door, she forced herself to go through her usual routine. Whenever she came home for the day, she picked up around the house while Katlin played with the toys she’d missed all day at nursery school. Mel glanced at the mound of stuffed animals and colorful shapes in the corner by the television set. She closed her eyes for a second, until she pulled it back together.
Housework had been the farthest concept from her mind these past few days. Rita had come by and done the biggest part of it, but Mel had needed so badly to be alone her friend had steered clear after the second visit. Now was as good a time as any to catch up. She had to do something to keep from going crazy. And she had to call her friend soon. It wasn’t fair to Rita to leave her out like this. She’d suffered, too. Mel knew she felt guilty for having borrowed the SUV to move back to Memphis.
Mel shook her head. How did this happen? She and Rita were both smart women. How had they fallen for the wrong men? Rita had finally agreed to marry the man who fathered her child, had even given up her job and schooling here to move to Jackson with him. Only to discover that he was an abusive womanizer. How could she not have seen it before? Moving back had been a tough decision. An admission of failure.
Mel knew all about failure. Though Ryan would never in a million years be abusive or a womanizer, he had his own set of problems and Mel had screwed up just like Rita had.
She couldn’t think about this anymore right now. The case. She had to focus on the case. They hadn’t learned much today, but it was enough that she recognized elevated anticipation in Ryan in that regard. He wasn’t convinced as she was just yet, but suspicions had been raised.
After loading the dishwasher, she ventured into the small laundry room off the kitchen and surveyed the piles of laundry. She sighed and began the task of sorting. Her fingers tangled in the soft fabric of one of Katlin’s gowns. The one she’d slept in the night before…
Mel drew the small pink garment to her face and inhaled the sweet essence of her baby. Her eyes closed in a useless attempt to capture the tears that sprang instantly. They slid down her cheeks, leaving a hot, salty trail of helplessness.
How could this have happened? Why hadn’t she been more careful? If she’d only seen the truck in time…
A sob hacked at her chest, twisted in her throat, finally erupting from her lips.
“God, please don’t let it be true,” she murmured. It couldn’t be. She felt her…knew she needed her mommy. It just couldn’t be.
The telephone rang.
Clutching the gown to her chest with one hand, Mel scrubbed at her tears with the other. Dammit, she had to keep her emotions in check here. Ryan would be watching for her to slip…to become a liability.
The telephone rang again.
It could be him now…or Bill.
She stumbled past the piles of soiled laundry and hurried to the cordless handset hanging on the wall next to the breakfast bar.
“Hello.” She heard the shakiness in her voice and cursed herself for the weakness. She didn’t want Ryan or Bill to hear her vulnerability.
“Ms. Jackson?”
Female…hesitant.
“Yes.” Mel struggled to place the voice. She’d heard it before.
“This is Helen Peterson.”
The nurse.
Mel froze…afraid to move, to even think. “Yes.”
“I need to see you…just you.”
Her voice sounded strange…strained almost beyond recognition.
“Is this about my daughter?” Mel tried not to allow it, but her heart kicked into high gear as new hope soared.
&
nbsp; “Yes.”
The one word was like a gift straight from God. She clutched the phone in both hands. “Please.” A sob choked out. She tried to hold it back…she tried so hard. “Just tell me where she is. I know she’s alive. Do you hear me?” She swallowed at the choking sensation, tried to pull herself together, but now that the emotions had been unleashed, she simply couldn’t. “I know she’s alive.”
“I…I can’t talk now. But when I saw you today…I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer.”
Mel tensed. “You have to tell me. Please!” Stay calm, she railed silently. Don’t scare her off!
“Meet me tomorrow,” she urged, her tone furtive. “At the River Walk. Around noon. I’ll watch for you.”
“Please, just tell me if she’s all right,” Mel cried, afraid she would hang up.
“I promise I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” Silence. “I’m so sorry this happened, Ms. Jackson. It was a mistake. It went too far….”
“I don’t understand—”
A definitive click cut off the rest of her words, told her the nurse had hung up.
Mel stared at the telephone for three endless beats, her thoughts whirling with all the possibilities. Then a glimmer of rationale kicked in.
She had to find Ryan.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ryan rifled through the statements once more. There had been four eyewitnesses to the accident. All four had said the same thing: the delivery truck failed to yield at the traffic signal.
He reached for the new file Bill had given him. Accident scene photos. He winced when he looked at the shots of the car Mel had been driving. But he’d needed to see. A small compact, foreign model, two door hatchback. If there had been a passenger in the front seat, he or she would not have walked away. The truck hit the front fender and passenger side door, caving in the entire area. He shuddered at the prospect of what could have happened.
Sorting through the rest of the pages he found Dr. Wilcox and Nurse Peterson’s statements. Short, direct and to the point. The statements relayed the same information the two had conveyed to him today. Dr. Letson’s statement read much the same way.
But Ryan knew that Wilcox and Peterson were hiding something. He could feel it in his gut. Subtle mannerisms gave them away. That was the reason he’d followed up on their initial statements to Bill. He’d needed to see their eyes, hear their voices…watch them closely. Bill had noted the same evasiveness, but Ryan had needed to see it for himself.
He shoved the mass of papers away and pushed up from the desk. It was time he got out of here. He surveyed the office M.P.D. had lent them. Bill had headed out already. He wanted to keep an eye on the funeral home director, Clyde Desmond, from Forest Lawn. Ryan supposed it was possible the man wasn’t involved, but he doubted it. Bill was damn good at reading people.
The only question was, were they covering up some sort of medical wrongdoing or was the child still alive for some other purpose? The doctors and nurses at Memphis General would certainly want to conceal any negligence. Obviously there were staffing problems or mere human error if the case was isolated, considering Mel’s misdiagnosis. The funeral home director could be in on it from that perspective. He may have destroyed the body for the hospital and decided not to waste money on a vault and proper burial. Garland Hanes was likely the scapegoat. Bill already had Memphis P.D. looking into the possibility of the funeral home director’s involvement in Hanes’s murder.
Ryan gathered his files and shoved them into a briefcase. The handgun he’d opted to bring along on this trip gave him pause. He hadn’t carried a weapon since he left the Bureau. But, he’d decided to play it safe rather than sorry when he came to Memphis. He passed a hand over his face. He was tired and on the verge of actually being hungry. As was par for the course with him and investigations, he wasn’t in the mood to mingle with the human race, so he would order room service tonight. Hell, he’d lived on the stuff half the time in his Bureau days.
Unbelievably, it had stopped raining yet again. It had done nothing but rain off and on since he’d arrived in the River City. The weather matched his mood. As he left the Downtown Precinct, he found himself wondering again if things could have been different between him and Melany. He told himself not to go there, but the voice of reason failed to stop him—as usual.
He tried distracting himself with the river view of the mighty Mississippi. He drove down Beale Street, the Bourbon Street of Memphis. There was always Graceland if he really wanted to push the envelope. He could pick up a post card for Mildred.
Braking for the traffic light that went from yellow to red before he could pass under it, his thoughts went back to Mel with scarcely a smidgen of resistance. He should call…just to see if she was all right. But she’d only resent his asking. Just like she’d gotten angry when he’d asked about the other guy. That, he had to admit, had been a damn fool thing to do.
She didn’t owe him any explanations.
He eased off the brake and pressed down on the accelerator. He didn’t know what difference it made. The guy was obviously out of the picture now, anyway. And what difference did that make? He wasn’t here to pursue their old relationship. But some genetic defect in his DNA had allowed him to wonder if she would want him…if she were still attracted to him.
She wanted nothing to do with him. Hadn’t even wanted his help on this case, not really. But she knew he’d find her an answer, so she’d given in. He hadn’t actually expected her to go all starry eyed when she saw him again…he didn’t know what he’d expected. Certainly she had her child on her mind…and not much else. But he couldn’t help wondering. Then, maybe, he considered, she was still in love with the other guy.
Ryan cut the wheel a little too sharply, making the tires squeal as he barreled into the parking lot of his motel. Why the hell was he playing this game? This wasn’t about them. Just like she said…it couldn’t be about them. It had to be about the child.
He hesitated a moment before climbing out of his car. He dragged the picture from his jacket pocket and looked at it for the hundredth time. The little girl looked so much like her mother. Same silky blond hair and vibrant green eyes. A frown driven by empathy nagged his forehead. The horror Mel must have suffered the moment she awoke from that coma. The realization that her child wasn’t safe in some room in the same hospital.
The horrible news that she was not only dead, but already buried. And then the dreams. Bill had told him about her dreams. She’d dreamed of the child, dreamed so vividly, claimed to have heard her voice, that she’d ended up in that cemetery attempting to find the truth on her own when no one else would listen.
He should have been there for her…she should never have had to go through that alone.
Here he sat, only a few miles away, selfishly holding back that part of himself just like before. He’d never given her everything there was to give. She’d needed more and he hadn’t even offered it to her.
Ryan tugged out his cell phone and started to punch in Mel’s number, but changed his mind. He swore. Maybe he’d call her from his room.
Ryan emerged from the car, retrieved his briefcase from the back seat and strode across the well-lit parking lot. His room was on the ground floor with a view of the pool.
He nodded to the front desk clerk as he passed through the lobby on his way to the inner courtyard. Dammit. He’d forgotten his trench coat. It would be his luck it would be raining tomorrow morning. He exhaled a disgusted breath. Forget it. He wasn’t going back for it.
Halfway across the meticulously landscaped courtyard he stalled, squinted to see in the low lighting who waited in front of his door.
Mel.
He jerked back into motion, quickening his pace. A half dozen scenarios explaining her presence ticked off in his head, from her belatedly realized need for the comfort of his arms to a break in the case. As soon as she looked up, her watery gaze connected with his and he had his answer. She’d learned something new…had remembered somet
hing relevant…. “Ryan, where the hell have you been?” she demanded in a rush when he got within range without her having to yell across the courtyard. “I’ve been trying to call you on your cell phone.”
“I’ve been at the precinct. Service is hit or miss in there.” He pulled out his keycard, but waited for her to fill him in before bothering to go inside. There was just as good a chance that they’d have to head back to the precinct or the hospital.
“She called me.” Her hands knotted in front of her and her eyes wide, anxious, she stared helplessly up at him.
Ryan slipped the card into the lock and opened the door. “Come inside.”
The hesitation lasted about two seconds.
“Who called you?” He tossed his briefcase onto the desk in the room and turned to face her.
Clearly grappling for calm she took a breath and pushed the door closed behind her. “Helen Peterson.”
Now she had his attention. “The nurse called you?”
Mel nodded. “She wants to meet with me tomorrow. She says she’ll explain everything then. When I couldn’t reach you by phone I decided I couldn’t wait until morning so I drove by her house.”
Ryan didn’t like this. “Mel, that was not a smart move. It could have been some sort of setup.”
She held up both hands in defense of herself. “I know it wasn’t but I had to know now…tonight.”
He pocketed his hands and strode a couple of steps closer to her. “What did she tell you?”
Mel sighed wearily. “She wasn’t home. The house was dark. I called the hospital and she’s not scheduled for duty tonight. I waited for a while then I tried to call you again.” She glanced around his room as if only now realizing where she was. “Then I came over.”
“Have a seat.” He indicated a chair near the window. “I was going to call room service.”