Laney Adams, he thought, was cut from similar cloth. She might have been crying at first, but not since, and there was a steely determination in her, now that she knew she wasn’t alone. He suspected it would be wise not to underestimate her, now that she had a course set. And she’d made it clear she wanted to be involved every step of the way.
He’d reluctantly volunteered to be the one to pick up Laney. It only made sense, given he was the one who had brought her problem to them. And he didn’t quite understand his own reluctance. He hadn’t been happy about pouring his guts out to her about Terri, but it had seemed necessary at the time. He wasn’t much for looking backward and dwelling on things he couldn’t change, a lesson learned in the hardest of ways with his sister. But he was still uneasy, and if it wouldn’t have been odd enough to draw attention, he would have opted out.
He’d even thought of suggesting Hayley, using the girl thing as an excuse, but Quinn had so obviously assumed he’d want to be handling this one that it made him stop and wonder why he didn’t.
Maybe it was just that this one reminded him too much of Terri. True, Amber was an adult, not a sixteen-year-old girl, and there had been some contact, at least, via the texts, and they had a clue who she might be with....
Yeah, right. Cases are exactly alike, he thought wryly.
That excuse shattered, he wasn’t sure where that left him. Except in the car alone with Laney Adams, who unsettled him far too much. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, that was likely what had him wishing someone else would be doing this. Somewhere along the line he’d turned into a coward, wanting to avoid a situation that made him uncomfortable.
“Teague?”
He’d never answered her, he realized. In fact, he had to think for a second to remember exactly what her words had been.
“Sorry. Thinking.” Don’t ask me about what. “Yes, our guys are good.”
“It helps that they even looked.” Her voice was harsh, even a touch angry.
“The cops are understaffed, they have to play the odds,” he said. “And the odds say that an adult who’s still, as far as they know, texting her best friend, is okay.”
“And the friend who thinks something’s wrong with those texts is imagining things.”
“They have to justify the time they spend on cases. They have a lot on their plate. When they’re dealing with murders, shootings, robberies and the like, there’s not a lot of time left for...”
He’d been about to say “lesser things,” but managed to bite it back before the words got out.
“I get it. I know they have priorities. And they did try. They took the report, entered it into their system, put out flyers and released them to the press. But it pretty much ended there. I don’t really blame them, and I wouldn’t be upset if I weren’t so worried.” She sighed audibly. “I would have hired a private investigator, if I could afford it. But everything I have went into starting the shop.”
“Well, you’ve got in essence a team of them now,” Teague said.
“And you really do this for nothing? How does Foxworth afford it?”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Laney said, “must truly be a genius.”
“In many ways. Plus being the only person on earth I’ve seen Quinn intimidated by.”
“That is a frightening thought.”
Laney laughed as she said it, and Teague was grateful the moment of tension seemed to have passed.
“I still can’t believe Amber got on a plane to Vancouver, though,” she said. “She seriously hates to fly. She got groped really badly once, and she’s never flown since unless she had no other choice.”
“All we know for certain is she bought a ticket,” he cautioned. “Or at least, her credit card did.”
Laney was looking at him; he could feel it, without even taking his eyes off the road in front of them. And when she spoke he heard the underlying note of fear in her voice, although he could tell she was trying to hide it.
“Are you saying somebody else bought it in her name?”
“The ticket was purchased online.”
“So all they needed was the card in hand.”
“Yes.”
“If she is with Edward, why didn’t he buy it?”
“Good question.”
“They said it was a round-trip ticket, though, right?”
Teague nodded. He didn’t point out that anybody paying attention these days would know a one-way ticket, especially one for an imminent flight, automatically drew more attention.
“So she would have been back by now, if she really had taken that trip.”
“If she kept to that schedule, yes. It’s taking our team a bit longer to find if the ticket was actually used. Passenger manifests are kept pretty close these days.”
She went silent then, but Teague sensed her mind was still racing. It was as if having Foxworth on her side had helped her go from helpless flailing to critical thinking, and now she was catching up in a hurry.
“It’s asking a lot to hope some ticket or airline agent will remember having seen her two weeks ago, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But there’s always a chance.”
“She is kind of distinctive.” She paused, gave him a sideways glance. “By that I mean beautiful. Stop-you-in-your-tracks stunning.”
He’d seen the photo they’d chosen to show, seen the others Laney had. He couldn’t deny Amber was a beautiful woman. Hair the golden color of her name, hazel eyes also more gold than anything. He preferred the warmth of cinnamon-brown, himself, but there was no denying Amber would have been noticed by any guy around.
Amber and Laney together would be enough to turn heads.
“You two must have looked like flip sides of the same coin.”
“Amber’s much prettier,” she said. It sounded like a reflex, an automatic response. Because she believed it? Because she’d said it so many times it actually was a reflex?
A third possibility occurred to him.
“If you were fishing for a compliment, consider it landed.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head snap up. “No! I wasn’t. It’s a simple fact. I’m all right, but Amber is exquisite.”
He couldn’t deny the genuineness of her quick response; she really hadn’t been fishing. But what she said still surprised him.
All right? Is that really what you think, that you’re just “all right”?
It wasn’t just him, he told himself. Any guy breathing would think she was a lot more than “all right.”
But any guy wasn’t working for her—that’s how they were taught at Foxworth, you were working directly for the client—so he’d better keep his head straight.
No matter how difficult the woman sitting beside him made that.
Chapter 8
You two must have looked like flip sides of the same coin.
His words kept echoing in her head. Even though he had graciously said it was a compliment, she knew he was just reacting to her own words, in that reassuring way some men had. She appreciated it, but she also had a mirror. And dozens of pictures of her and Amber together. Reality was.
He had meant, of course, her hair, as dark as Amber’s was light. And her eyes, she supposed, ordinary brown where Amber’s were a striking golden-brown that matched her name.
He had to have meant that, because to think he’d meant to say she, also, was beautiful would open a door that had best stay closed. No matter how tempted she might be to not just open it, but to race right through. Because he was the kind of man who stopped her in her tracks.
They drove across the newer of the two—she never thought of them as twins, because they were so different—Narrows bridges. They didn’t stop for the toll, so she assumed Foxworth had a pass account.
/> She stayed silent, using the distraction of the expansive view of the waterway for a brief escape. She tried to tell herself this was just because she was finally doing something concrete to look for Amber, that that was what had her all wound up and on the edge of her seat. But she tried to always be honest with herself, at least, and had to admit it was more than that.
Stop it. You’re not some brainless teenager all fizzed up over hanging with a good-looking guy. You need to be thinking about Amber, and Amber alone.
On the other side he negotiated the traffic and transitions to the northbound freeway easily, reminding her he’d grown up here, on the city side. He seemed willing to preserve her silence, not surprising if he really thought she’d been hoping for some flattery before.
“I truly wasn’t fishing for a compliment.” The words slipped out, and Laney was wide-eyed with disbelief that she’d actually said them.
“Okay.”
“People look at Amber. Not just men, but women. Who can be pretty catty about it, frankly. But I reconciled myself long ago to the fact that Amber has what makes people notice her.”
“So do neon signs.”
She blinked.
“Some men—not boys, but men—prefer a little subtlety,” Teague said, his eyes on the road, as if this were simply some conversation to fill the time until they got to the airport. “The kind of slow realization of beauty, and an inside that’s more attractive than the outside.”
Laney swallowed. “Wow. If that’s a line, it’s a hell of a good one. I’ll bet it works wonders.”
He flashed her a glance then, and she saw the gleam of humor in his cool blue eyes, and it was confirmed by the upward curve of one side of his mouth into a crooked smile.
“Think so? I’ll have to try it.”
“Do,” she said, happy she hadn’t been self-deluded enough to believe it.
“Helps that I meant it,” he said.
Okay, so she was happy she hadn’t been self-deluded enough to believe it was meant to apply to her.
She relapsed into silence, wondering what it was about this man that had her so edgy. She realized on the thought that she had part of the answer right there. This man. For he was that. Not one of the boys he’d referred to rather dismissively, but a man. One who had come through hard times, loss, even war. One who had worked hard to get where he was. One who had gone through all that and grown past that carefree sort of youth that she saw so often in men Teague’s age and even older.
Never having faced what he faced, they had stayed young, callow, immature.
Teague had grown up.
They pulled into the short-term parking structure at SeaTac, found a spot not too far out, made sure they had the photos of Amber and Edward, and headed into the terminal. They made their way to the check-in desk at the airline Amber’s credit card had showed the purchase from, waited in a thankfully short line this weekday afternoon and finally got up to the counter.
The first woman, young and pretty in an Amber sort of way, eyed Teague appreciatively, and gave Laney the kind of assessing once-over she’d been more used to getting standing beside Amber. She knew the look, Laney thought. Checking for a ring first, then deciding if I’m attractive enough to hang on to this hunk, or if she might have a chance.
And that was another difference, she thought. If it was Amber they knew there was no chance, these predatory females. With her, there was always a shot. It hadn’t always been easy, being Amber’s best friend. But she had such a generous soul, and never played up her advantage, at least not in Laney’s presence, more than once using her considerable charm and attractiveness to include Laney where she might otherwise have been ignored. She was the very best kind of friend, and that’s all that mattered now.
She focused on that, crowding out the crazy thoughts that wanted to romp through her stupid brain at the very thought of hanging on to the hunk beside her in any way.
But it seemed they were getting nowhere; nobody recognized the photos. They went to each agent working today, learned that many had this shift on the day of the flight Amber’s purchase had listed, but no one remembered the striking blonde.
Despite knowing it had been a long shot, Laney had let her hopes build; she knew by the way she was feeling more disheartened with every negative answer. She began to let Teague take the lead, ask the questions, while she inwardly dealt with her disappointment.
“Wait, you said you were from Foxworth?”
The way the man at the last window said it snapped Laney out of her personal misery.
“Yes,” Teague answered.
“I know you guys. You helped my cousin a couple of years ago. Made the case against the guy who killed his dog because he crossed a picket line to drive a delivery truck.”
Laney smothered a gasp at such cruelty.
“The chemo,” Teague said, clearly knowing exactly what the man was referring to.
“Yeah. Who knows how many might have died eventually if he hadn’t made that delivery, but that didn’t seem to matter.” He smiled. “Except to you guys.”
“Still sorry about the dog,” Teague said. “Actually, even more now. I didn’t really realize back then just how much a dog could mean.”
Cutter, Laney thought. He did now because of Cutter. Had the poor man never had a dog in his life? She couldn’t imagine that, even though she knew there were millions who didn’t. Teague just seemed like the type who would have a good dog at his side, hunting dog maybe; one who would love him with that unconditional devotion only dogs could give.
People love was so much more complicated, with feelings and baggage and overthinking involved.
She stopped her own thoughts sharply. Teague was here helping her to find Amber, and there was no time for silly inattentiveness just because she was in prolonged proximity to an attractive man for the first time since she’d moved “to the country,” as her mother persisted in calling it.
“—give me one of those, and I’ll make sure everybody on every shift sees it. Skycaps and gate people, too. There’s one guy, Willy, he’s a hound, if a woman who looked like that went by him, he’d notice.”
“Thanks,” Teague said, handing the man a copy of the photograph. “Phone number’s on the back, if you find anything.”
“Thank you,” Laney echoed.
The man shrugged. “You guys were there for my family. Least I can do. You want, I can put it on the employee bulletin board. Somebody I miss might have seen her.”
“That would be great,” Teague said.
The man tapped the picture against his fingers as he met Teague’s gaze. “You Foxworth guys did all that for nothing. Amazing.”
“Not for nothing,” Teague said with a smile. “Now you’re helping us because of it. That’s how it works. Why it works.”
“What an awful story,” Laney said as they moved on.
“It was. That was my first case,” Teague said.
“And he still remembers and wants to help. Does that happen often?” Laney asked.
“Sometimes it happens that way. Sometimes we call on people ourselves. We keep track of particular skills or knowledge the people we’ve helped have. They’re usually more than willing to help out if they can. Nobody forgets what it feels like to be in the kind of position Foxworth helps them out of.”
“I certainly won’t.” She said it quietly, but fervently.
“We will find Amber,” he said. “And we won’t stop until we do. Ever.”
She looked at him as they headed toward the baggage and transport area on the lower level. “Ever?”
“Once Foxworth takes on a case, we keep going until we get results. They may not be exactly what the client hoped for, or the news we find may not be good, but we will resolve it. No matter how long it takes. Unless the client tells us to stop.”
<
br /> “Has a client ever done that?”
“Once or twice. For their own reasons. And since they’re in charge, what they say goes, barring any criminal activity being involved.”
“And if there is?”
“We have a very good relationship with law enforcement. We intend to keep it that way.”
Curious now, she tilted her head as she looked at him. “What’s the longest case Foxworth has had?”
“Years. Quinn’s got one from three years ago that was never resolved. He still lugs it around in his head. And Rafe...”
He stopped, shaking his head. They were at the ground transportation kiosk, and he was into the routine with the photo again before she could ask who Rafe was. Again, no one remembered seeing the striking blonde, and at least one of the guys fervently agreed that if he had, he would have remembered.
They stopped at the baggage claim and did the same with the skycaps, and Laney finally remembered something she thought might be useful, describing the bright, hot-pink leather luggage tags Amber had favored.
When at last they stepped outside, Laney looked with dismay at the lineup of cabs and busses. “This could take a while.”
“We don’t have to check individual drivers. Quinn’s got a contact at each of the licensed companies, and he’ll have Ty or Liam do that by email. I just wanted to—”
He stopped as his cell rang. He and Laney stepped to one side, out of the flow of pedestrians along the wide sidewalk in front of the terminal as he answered. He glanced at Laney as he listened to the caller, said “okay” a couple of times, then glanced at his watch. Then he said goodbye and disconnected.
The next thing he did was slip the remaining few copies of Amber’s photo they had left into the inside pocket of his battered leather jacket.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re done here?”
He gave her a reassuring smile that normally would have done just that. If it were anything less than Amber missing and in trouble...
“We are,” he said. “Tyler was able to confirm Amber’s ticket was never used, her name wasn’t on any passenger manifest, and Charlie just let Quinn know there’s no record of Amber entering Canada.”
Operation Blind Date Page 6