But she could see the hurt in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying that. He believed it.
“I’m working with you because you’re a damn good investigator.” She stepped toward him and reached out to grab his shirt lapels, but he backed up. “Come on, Matt. You know I…”
Oh, boy. She was in a pickle now. If she admitted how she felt about him—how did she feel? That alone was scary—their relationship would spin off into something completely different. A deeper relationship.
Commitment.
She’d have to tell him about that night. About Isabel. Because that’s what people did in relationships, real ones at least. They talked about their pasts, their families.
Was that why she never got close to anyone? Had she blamed her job all these years for being the culprit, when in reality, it was just an excuse to keep from having to explain what happened that night?
Damn straight she had.
Did it matter? If she didn’t admit to Matt that she cared about him too—a fucking lot—he’d continue thinking she was a cold-hearted bitch who’d used him for his resources.
Taylor bit the inside of her bottom lip. Matt continued to stare at her, waiting.
Shit.
“It was my fault.” The words bubbled out. “That night… Isabel was kidnapped because I left her.”
They were such simple words. Such terrifying words. Tears sprung to her eyes and she dashed them away.
“That’s the child in you talking,” he said softly. “You know, as an adult, that it wasn’t your fault. No matter what you did or didn’t do that night, you were only a kid. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent what happened.”
Completely true, but so goddamn false. “I left her, Matt. I left her alone.”
She paced to the far end of the room where photographs of Matt and his siblings hung. In one picture, he couldn’t have been more than six or seven, but she knew it was him from that grin. From those crystal blue eyes.
Even back then, he’d had the Mad Dog charm.
She touched the frame, staring at six-year-old Matt. “All I wanted for my ninth birthday was a tent. Not a kid’s tent with Barbie or Tinkerbell on it. I wanted a grown-up camping one so I could sleep outside and pretend I was a great explorer. I had a little telescope to look at the stars and everything.”
She felt Matt come up behind her. He didn’t touch her, just stood looking over her shoulder at the same photograph.
Taking a deep breath, she went on. “I begged Isabel for weeks to stay outside with me. Our dad offered to but I knew he hated the idea. He and mom weren’t campers, not even backyard stuff. Isabel was seven and scared of the dark, so I teased her relentlessly about being a baby and tried bribing her with all kinds of things. She loved this one stuffed animal I had, a rabbit, so I told her she could have it if she slept just one night out in the tent with me. She wanted it pretty bad.”
The memory of Isabel’s face lighting up when Taylor had handed her that old, floppy rabbit surfaced, making Taylor smile. “She was fine until the sun went down, then she wanted to go back inside. Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me stay out there alone and I was furious that she was going to blow that perfect night for me. I told her to give the rabbit back and that I was never going to speak to her again. I made other threats too. Like she couldn’t come in my room during storms and stuff when she was scared anymore. So she gave in.”
The old anxiety rose in her throat, cutting off her air. Tears leaked down the sides of her face.
Matt turned her around, wiping at her tears, his brows furrowed. “That’s normal sibling stuff, Taylor. I did far worse with my brothers and sister when I was that age.”
Taylor couldn’t meet his eyes. A part of her wanted to fall into his arms and accept his support. The other part—the one she’d used for years to guard against breaking down—needed distance.
Run.
She stayed rooted in place, not doing either but clamping down on the waterworks. Her nose was already running, and her mascara was probably all over her face by now. In a minute, she’d have to make a mad dash for the bathroom or use Matt’s shirt as a tissue.
“Once she finally fell asleep, I had to pee, so I ran back in the house. While I was in there, I stole some cookies from the pantry, thinking I’d put them under her pillow as an apology because I was feeling guilty. When I got back out to the tent, she was gone. That fast.”
Matt pulled her into his arms, his embrace reassuring as he rubbed a hand up and down her spine. “Did the police have any leads?”
She put her face in the crook of his neck, knowing she was ruining his shirt with mascara and probably a little snot, but not caring. “I thought at first she’d gotten up and followed me inside, so I went back in to check. When I couldn’t find her, I looked out her bedroom window and saw a silver pickup driving away from our side yard. It was an old Ford, beat up and listing to one side. I thought I saw a blond head through the passenger window. I didn’t get the plate number on the truck. I’m not even sure it had one. I underwent hypnosis when I got older, trying to recall anything about it that would help the police find her, but they never did. They found the rabbit, though. She’d dropped it on the sidewalk right outside our property near the hedge.”
“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered. “You’re lucky the bastard didn’t hurt or kidnap you too.”
“I’ve gone over the old case files a dozen times and investigated every sexual predator and criminal who lived within a mile radius of us during that time. I can’t find him, but I know he’s still out there.” The one thing she never said out loud formed on her lips. “Isabel might still be alive. Even if she…”
Her throat tightened again, and she swallowed the fear away, focusing on Matt’s hand, so gentle, so reassuring on her back. “Even if she’s not, I have to find her. I have to know what happened to her.”
They stood together for a long moment, then Matt took her hand and led her to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and helped her strip off her clothes. Under the warm water, she bawled like a baby, letting all the years of grief and guilt have their way with her while Matt soaped her up and washed her off.
After dressing her in one of his old T-shirts, he tucked her into his bed and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back a few minutes later, he handed her a cup of tea and crawled into bed next to her. They sat, side by side, Taylor sipping the tea and listening to the beat of her heart, normal once more. “I care for you. A lot,” she admitted. The room was dark. It was easier to say things in the dark. Isabel had taught her that. “I care for you more than anyone I’ve ever been with. Just so you know. And that for me is terrifying.”
Matt hugged her close. “I know.”
As her eyelids grew heavy, he took the cup from her hands and let her fall asleep in the solid protection of his arms.
* * *
The following morning, Matt dropped Taylor back at her place to grab her car and followed her to work making a request along the way. Yes, he’d requested rather than told her to call him when she planned on leaving the office. Telling a woman like Special Agent Sinclair to do anything would only get him in a shit-ton of trouble. And he already had his hands full with her.
He headed out of DC and jumped on the 495, hauling ass toward his office. Nothing about this case was coming together. Sure they had bits of information, but none of those pieces fit together to form a picture.
His puzzle was far from complete. It happened sometimes. He simply needed to sit down—alone—in a quiet room and study what he had.
The morning sun was high in a blue sky, glaring off the vehicle in front of him. A silver truck. Of course. According to his research, twenty-three percent of pickup owners chose that color, making it the most popular color in America. With pickups making up eighteen percent of the total vehicles in North America, that was a whole lot of silver trucks to run down.
That little factoid hadn’t made him happy. Taylor either, considering her sister wa
s snatched away in a silver pickup. Even back then, the color had been popular.
He left the expressway, making use of the shortcut he’d discovered and pulled into the lot behind the building. Both Charlie and Meg’s cars were in their normal spots. He’d have to sneak in. Maybe hide for a while to keep the distractions to a minimum.
That plan failed the second he opened the door and found both sisters standing in the hallway, steaming mugs of coffee in hand.
“Well, good morning,” Charlie said.
“Ladies.”
Charlie wore her typical skirt—she called it a pencil skirt—with a silk blouse while Meg opted for baggy, clay covered jeans and a T-Shirt that said, Kiss Me I’m Irish. Funny thing was, she wasn’t Irish.
Meg held up her mug. “Coffee is hot. Some new blend Charlie worked up. I think it’s a winner.”
In her downtime, Charlie liked to tinker with coffee blends. Matt supposed the coffee thing was Charlie’s version of his building cars. Whatever. As long as they all got through the day, it worked.
“Thanks.” The sisters made room for him to push by. “I’ll grab some in a bit. I’ll be in my office.”
As casual as he’d tried to sound, Charlie fell into step behind him. He didn’t have to look to know Meg wouldn’t be far behind.
He flipped the light on in his office and tossed his messenger bag on the desk.
“How’s your new girlfriend?” Charlie asked, a sly grin on her face.
In his mind, he sighed. Tenacity made the sisters good at their jobs. Unfortunately, that quality painted all aspects of their lives. Including keeping up on what their investigator did in his personal life.
He unloaded his bag, neatly lining his legal pad next to the three file folders he’d brought to the office with him. Everything else had been scanned and stored on his laptop, but the contents of the folders had been collected over the past few days and he hadn’t had a chance to catalog them yet.
“He’s not going to answer,” Meg said.
True ’dat. “Nope. But, if you need me, I’ll be here working on the Jarvis case.”
Charlie blew on her coffee and took a sip. “Good. Anything new?”
Dropping into the chair, he propped his feet on the desk. “Funny you should ask. How much do you know about this birthing center the Jarvises picked?”
“I know they’d planned on using it, but Walt said they weren’t completely committed. On her last doctor’s appointment, Felicity’s blood pressure had spiked.”
“I remember Walt saying something about that.”
“Yes. At the time of Felicity’s disappearance they were considering doing a hospital birth in case the blood pressure became an issue during delivery. Walt wanted to be at the hospital, just in case.”
“Did the birthing center know that? Because everything I have indicates it was all-systems-go with them.”
“Not to my knowledge. Felicity went missing before they’d made a final decision. Why?”
Matt sat up and set his feet on the floor. “I visited the birthing center. Call it an undercover mission.”
Meg’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose. “You…” She shook her head. “Huh?”
“Special Agent Sinclair and I posed as a married, pregnant couple and toured the facility. It’s a helluva setup. Before that, we visited the hospital where the nurse told us Felicity had everything lined up. She’d scheduled a C-section so she could, without question, lock in all the doctors she wanted.” He held up the folder with copies of the birthing center welcome kit. “These are copies of the forms from the birthing center.”
“Felicity’s? How’d you get that?”
“Not hers. I’d need a warrant for that. These are the blank forms. It’s pretty involved. Everything buttoned up. I think Agent Sinclair might be working on a warrant, but I’m gonna head over and see Walt. See if he has copies of their paperwork.”
While Meg stayed in the doorway, casually leaning on the doorframe, Charlie grabbed a coaster from the holder on the corner of his desk and set her mug down. He eyeballed the mug. That right there meant his plan for quiet study just flew out the window.
Charlie wasn’t going anywhere.
“Something wrong?” Matt asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay. Want to elaborate?”
“Your association with Agent Sinclair.”
Yep. Here we go. The whole thing was sticky business, riding the edges of ethical because Walt was his client. One he’d signed a confidentiality agreement for stating he wouldn’t discuss his wife’s case outside of Schock Investigations. Taylor was an outsider. A federal one currently investigating said client.
His only net was the fact that Taylor had been with him at the hospital and birthing center and had heard everything first hand. So far, he hadn’t revealed anything she didn’t already know.
A stretch? Totally. If Jarvis took him to court, he’d be screwed. No doubt. If it meant finding Felicity’s killer and her missing baby, he’d, without question, hand over his investigator’s license.
Matt held up his hand. “I haven’t gone outside the boundaries of confidentiality.”
Charlie scoffed. “Really? Going undercover with a federal agent working the same case is exempt?”
“I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. And, yeah, before you do that you’re delusional thing again, I get it. It’s under control. If there’s heat, I’ll take it. You two will be out of it. I’ll be the rogue investigator you reprimanded and fired. In fact, draw up the paperwork and backdate it. Fire me. Then you’re in the clear.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Meg said. “No one is getting fired. We’re having a conversation.”
Charlie didn’t say anything. Not unusual for her. She liked to process, get her thoughts aligned before speaking.
Finally, she picked up her coffee mug. “Meg is right. No one is getting fired. But you’re on a short leash with this, Matt. I trust you, but this is a United States senator. Don’t fuck this up.”
Ewww-eeee. Charlie dropping an f bomb. Pissed. Royally. “Yes, ma’am. I got it.”
“Good.”
She nodded and headed toward the door.
“Before you go,” Matt said, “something about the silver truck Walt claimed was following Felicity is bugging me.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. Can I take a look at your notes again? See if I missed anything.”
“Sure, but all Walt said was Felicity spotted a silver pickup with a window decal.”
Whoa. Window decal. Walt had never told Matt about that. “Wait. What decal?”
Charlie swung her head from Matt to Meg and back. “A bald eagle on the cab window. It said God Bless America on it.”
“He never told me about that. I don’t have a decal in my notes and he sure as shit never mentioned it.”
“He probably forgot who he said what to. I’m sure the FBI has it.”
They’d see about that as soon as Matt asked Taylor what she knew about that vehicle.
With a world full of silver pickups, how in the hell could a man leave out that detail when his pregnant wife had gone missing? That was the best lead they had.
Unless, of course, Walt Jarvis was hiding something.
Chapter Eleven
“Your house was broken into last night and you didn’t call me?”
Taylor tried not to squirm under Meredith’s stern glare as she sat across from her in Meredith’s office. “They didn’t take anything and I wasn’t home. Nothing was damaged.”
“What were they after?”
Goosebumps rose on Taylor’s arms from the air conditioning. Meredith must have had another hot flash and cranked the thermostat down to sub-arctic temps. “Most likely information on the Jarvis case. My laptop was up and running when I entered the place and my file on the Jarvis case was open. I always close out everything and all my stuff is password protected. Whoever broke in disarmed my security system and got a
round my laptop’s security.”
“Damn it.” Meredith’s face grew even more grim. “I can’t believe how this case is spinning out of control. Cunningham is going to have my badge before this is over. You should have called me.”
“Yes, ma’am, I should have, but I was exhausted and all I wanted was some sleep.” Mostly the truth. “I locked up and went to a friend’s for the remainder of the night. I didn’t see any reason to wake you and put a lot of other people out that late. I came here first thing this morning to inform you.”
Meredith’s lips worked. “You didn’t call me because you knew I would chew your ass out about this.”
Taylor decided to take the 5th and stay silent.
“Well, at least you were smart enough not to stay at your place afterwards. Tell me you didn’t touch anything.” Mer leaned forward and grabbed her phone. “I’ll get a tech team over there right now.”
There was no way Taylor was confessing that she’d already had Charlie Schock at her place dusting for prints. Better to keep quiet about that. Besides, the place had been a mess with fingerprint residue and she’d wiped everything down after Charlie was done. There were no prints to find. “Don’t waste FBI resources on me. There won’t be any prints, trust me. Whoever did this is good. I kicked a couple of rocks yesterday on the Jarvis case and someone obviously didn’t like it. I’m sure the break-in is related to that. I want to bring Dottie Hernandez in for—”
Meredith held up a finger as she spoke into the handset. “Yeah, Cora, it’s me. I need a team over at Taylor Sinclair’s place as soon as possible. It was broken into last night. Nothing was damaged, but I want you to dust for prints and collect any evidence you can find.”
Cora said something, Mer gave her an affirmative, and the two disconnected. “Who’s Dottie Hernandez?” she asked, dropping the handset back into its cradle.
Oh boy. Mer was forcing her to come clean about the fingerprinting. It was either that, or Cora would figure out that Taylor had already wiped everything down. “Look, Mer. The tech team won’t find any prints other than mine. I already had a friend check.”
Missing Justice (The Justice Team Book 7) Page 14