Bravo, Tango, Cowboy

by Joanna Wayne

  He got the physical connection. It was simple and natural.

  What had happened last night with Alonsa went miles beyond that. Seeing her so distraught, reacting to her agonizing heartbreak, realizing how fragile and yet how strong she was at the same time. It had made him feel things deep inside where he didn’t like to feel at all. Where he hadn’t even known he could feel.

  And then they’d walked and talked in the snow. Nothing spectacular, just conversation but the feelings inside didn’t let up. Sure he wanted her physically. That was a given. What man wouldn’t?

  It was all the other sensations stirring inside him that made him nervous. Like the need to wrap her up inside him so he could absorb all her hurt.

  Damn. He sounded like a schoolboy with his first crush. He slung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching as the balls of his feet hit the thick carpeted floor. The stack of files and notes he’d gotten from Craig glared reproachfully at him as he walked past them to take care of business in the bathroom.

  The files and the search for Alonsa’s daughter was where his focus should be, not on emotional complexities he couldn’t even pretend to comprehend.

  The worst of it all was that Craig had been right about his areas of expertise not including child abductions or missing persons investigations. On the other hand, he had incredible instincts and an uncanny ability to see through the camouflage of the most cunning adversaries. Not hyperbole. Just the facts.

  He washed his hands, splashed his face with water and ordered a pot of black coffee from room service. By the time the brew arrived, he’d settled in on a plan of operation, or at least the beginning of one.

  By the time dawn became a golden glow, he knew exactly where he planned to start.

  ALONSA STUFFED HER boots with dirty clothes and shoved them into the shoe pocket of her carry-on. She wasn’t due to meet Hawk for the cab ride to the airport for another two hours, but she was dressed and ready to go.

  Her mood was far lighter going home than it had been when they were leaving Dobbin. She’d even found herself dancing to a catchy commercial tune on TV as she’d dressed.

  The change could partly stem from the relief she’d felt last night after hearing that the recovered body wasn’t her daughter. But it was also the newfound hope of finding Lucy. Hawk would charge forward with his investigation even though Craig had tried to discourage him and make him doubt his ability.

  Even the return to New York hadn’t been the emotional disaster she’d feared. Hawk was probably at least partly to credit for that, as well. He hadn’t pushed for conversation on their walk last night, hadn’t asked about Todd or the life they’d shared here. Hadn’t even questioned her about her career.

  He’d just been there, flashing that boyish smile of his and making comments about the people and the weather that made her laugh.

  She opened the drawers in the bathroom to be sure she hadn’t left anything unpacked, then checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. Good to go, she decided, with plenty of time remaining for a quick breakfast in the hotel coffee shop.

  The phone in the hotel room jangled. She hurried to answer it. “Hello.”

  “Good morning.” The deep timbre of Hawk’s voice rang in her ear.

  “I was just heading down to the lobby for a bagel and coffee,” she said. “Care to join me?”

  “Not for a bagel, but breakfast sounds good. Also wanted to let you know that I called and changed my flight plans for today.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “There’s this woman in Jackson, Mississippi.”

  “A woman?” She swallowed a rush of irritation that hit from out of the blue. “Fine.”

  “Not what you’re thinking,” he added quickly.

  She had no idea how he’d know what she was thinking when she didn’t know herself.

  “I’ve been up since before dawn,” he continued, “looking over the information Craig provided. Since I’m coming into this so many months after the fact, I decided it makes sense for me to retrace the steps of the original investigation from the beginning.”

  “You’ve already visited the spot of the abduction.”

  “I know. Now I’m concentrating on the early possible sightings of Lucy, especially those which reported that she was traveling with a female. One of those was called in by a woman named Marilyn Couric who was visiting Jackson, Mississippi, at the time. She lives there now.”

  “I’m not sure it’s worth the stop. There have been dozens of reported sightings over the years. All were investigated. None led anywhere.”

  “I think this one is worth checking out again.”

  “Why?”

  “The timing for one thing. If the kidnapper drove straight through from Houston to Jackson, occasionally exceeding the speed limit and not stopping for any lengthy period of time, she could have made it in under six hours.”

  “Anything else?”

  “The woman’s profession.”

  “What kind of work does she do?”

  “Portrait painting. I figure she’d be good with faces, recognize the shape and the lines, the angles and indiscriminate features someone else might overlook. And she says she saw Lucy’s picture on TV just a few moments before she spotted a girl who looked exactly like her in a service station.”

  “And we know Lucy left the zoo with a woman.” Did she dare hope this could turn into a real lead? “I want to go with you,” she said, making an instant decision.

  Her request was met with silence. She didn’t see why it should be a problem. “If you’ve changed your flight, we can change mine as well.”

  “This is just a place to start, Alonsa. Don’t go expecting instant miracles.”

  But if the woman in Jackson could give them a description of the abductor, this would be as close to a miracle as they’d had. “I’m going with you,” she repeated, her tone leaving no doubt she meant business.

  Craig had stressed throughout the investigation that he was the expert and she was just the grieving mother. She wasn’t going to go that route again. “I’d like to be in on the questioning.”

  “What about Brandon?” Hawk asked.

  Brandon. Cripes. She couldn’t just expect Linney to keep him all day without checking with her first. “I’ll give Linney a call and get back to you.”

  “Whatever you decide, meet me in the coffee shop downstairs. I’ll be the one with all the artery-clogging fats and carbs spilling off the plate.”

  “Right.” Carbs that hardened into six-pack abs. She broke the connection and punched in Linney’s home number. She wouldn’t expect miracles, but she wouldn’t turn one down, either. She was past due.

  LINNEY TURNED TO HER gorgeous hunk of a husband who was stretched out on the bed next to her. He reached for her, cupped her right breast in his hand and massaged her erect nipple with his thumb.

  It was part of their morning routine of kissing, touching and savoring of their naked bodies which almost always led to making love. This morning’s routine had been interrupted by a phone call from Alonsa Salatoya.

  “Trouble in the Big Apple?” Cutter asked.

  “To the contrary. It must be going well. Alonsa wants me to watch Brandon until early evening so that they can take a later flight back to Houston.”

  Cutter slid closer and kissed the tip of her nose. “Yet you sound worried.”

  “I just hate to see her pin too much hope on Hawk. I don’t want her to get hurt. She’s been through so much.”

  “Aren’t you the one who threw the matchmaking into gear almost the minute you met Hawk?”

  “I am,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it never dawned on me that he’d take on a new search for her missing daughter. I thought you had work for him to do.”

  “The project he’s going to head for me isn’t ready to start yet. He’s got time to get his feet wet in the search for Lucy Salatoya.”

  “The search has been going on for two years. If the FBI hasn’t been able t
o find out what happened to Lucy, I can’t see how Hawk Taylor is just going to swoop down and sniff out new clues.”

  “That’s because you don’t know Hawk the way I do. I have complete confidence that he’ll ferret out all the facts.”

  “And if he finds out Lucy was murdered or worse, horribly tortured and sexually abused first, Alonsa may never be able to climb out of the despair. She barely survived the abduction as it was.”

  “You didn’t even know her then,” he reminded her.

  “No, but I’ve heard all about it from Merlee. That little girl was Alonsa’s life and to lose her right after her husband had been shot and killed all but destroyed her. Knowing Brandon needed his mother was the only thing that kept her going. I just can’t bear to think of her going through that again.”

  Cutter pulled her into his arms. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit to a phone call from a woman who was feeling good about this situation?”

  Probably. Her hormones had been a wreck the last few days. It wasn’t like her at all. “I want Hawk to find Lucy. I do, but only if there’s a happy ending.”

  Cutter didn’t offer any words of reassurance to that. He never lied to her. That was another of the things she loved about him.

  “So exactly what did Alonsa have to say?” Cutter asked.

  Linney filled him in on the developments and their scheduled stop in Jackson. He agreed with Hawk and Alonsa that it was a wise move.

  “Are you sure you’re up to keeping Brandon another day?” he asked. “I’ve got some business that can’t wait but I can ask Aunt Merlee to cancel her plan to visit her friend Josie this afternoon.”

  “Absolutely not. I love having Brandon here. He’s so curious and fun and adorable. Which reminds me. He’ll be waking any minute now and wanting his breakfast.” She rolled away from Cutter to get out of bed.

  “But he’s not up yet.” Cutter caught her around the waist and tugged her back down beside him.

  His lips found hers and his hand roamed her abdomen.

  “You’re insatiable, Mr. Martin.”

  “Comes from sleeping with a gorgeous, naked woman, Mrs. Martin.”

  And then he showed her just how marvelously insatiable he was.

  HAWK FOLLOWED ALONSA into Marilyn Couric’s studio, which was on the top floor of a historic building in the Arts Fondren District. The studio consisted of bare brick walls, a high ceiling and a large open space lined on the east by a row of six foot high, uncovered windows.

  Around the space were rectangular, paint-splattered tables and easels and numerous uncluttered shelves containing baskets of supplies. A cozy nook occupied one corner, apparently for preparing and eating quick meals and relaxing or discussing projects with her clients.

  Not only did the space contain all the fixtures of a consummate artist, Marilyn was dressed the role as well. The pencil-thin woman wore a loose smock splattered with so many colors it looked like a mad painter’s work of modern art.

  Her brown hair was braided. Her slightly wrinkled skin was ruddy, as if it had just been scrubbed with a coarse cloth. Her smile was engaging. She looked to be anywhere from forty to fifty, maybe older.

  She slipped out of the smock and dropped it onto a scarred wooden barstool near a blank canvas as she led them to a worn sofa near the microwave and small retro metal kitchen table. “Excuse my appearance,” she said, brushing the wrinkles from her pink loose-fitting blouse.

  “My two o’clock appointment didn’t show up so I was busy putting the finishing touches on a painting of one of our local fireman who was killed in the line of duty. I like to do that for the families of fallen heroes when I can. You know, giving back and all that.”

  “It sounds like a very charitable thing to do,” Alonsa said.

  Hawk couldn’t help but compare the gait of the two women walking in front of him. Marilyn was all business, her flat-heeled Birkenstocks slapping the hard floor, her arms swinging nonchalantly at her side, braids bobbing.

  There was nothing wrong with her walk. It just lacked the tantalizing rhythm or grace that Alonsa exhibited with seemingly no effort.

  An unwanted urge hardened somewhere near his groin. He shook his head as if that would clear the disturbing sensation. It didn’t.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the artist asked. “I have chilled wine or a hot herbal tea.” She opened a dorm-size refrigerator. “Or bottled water if you prefer.”

  “The tea sounds delightful,” Alonsa said.

  “My favorite refresher,” Marilyn said. “I’ll join you.”

  Hawk opted for water. He sat next to Alonsa on the sofa. Marilyn served the drinks then settled on one of the two straight-backed, mismatched chairs that she’d pulled away from the table.

  “I was really surprised to get your call this morning,” Marilyn said. Her attention turned to Alonsa. “I didn’t realize your daughter was still missing. It’s been what, a year?”

  “Two.”

  “I’m so sorry. This must be devastating for you.”

  “It is. That’s why I really hope you can help us.”

  “I don’t see how I can. I told the police all I know, not that they seemed that interested. I think they doubted the veracity of my report.”

  “I can’t explain that,” Alonsa admitted, “but some new information’s come to light recently. We have reason to believe that the abductor was a woman.”

  Marilyn nodded. “That agrees with what I saw, but still I don’t know how I can help.”

  Hawk rubbed his jawline with a crooked thumb. “Did you get a good look at the woman?”

  “Not as good as I would have liked. It all happened so fast.”

  “According to the report you gave the police, the girl was in the backseat of the car when you spotted her,” Hawk said. “How is it that you got such a good look at her?”

  “Now you sound like the police,” Marilyn said. “They expressed the same doubts, but I was parked at the opposite pump and I can assure you that I saw the child’s face distinctly. She had it pressed to the glass. Her eyes had a blank expression, as if she’d been drugged.”

  Hawk heard the quick intake of Alonsa’s breath as she hugged her arms tightly around her chest.

  “Was she hurt?” Alonsa asked quickly. “Were there bruises?”

  “Not that I could see. She wasn’t crying. She just looked out of it. I should have yelled or jumped inside the car or even attacked the woman, but I just didn’t think that fast.”

  “I don’t understand,” Alonsa said. “What happened?”

  “The woman was pumping gas but when she noticed me so near her back door, she jumped back in her car and took off. She left the nozzle dangling.”

  “Can you give us even a vague description of the woman?” Hawk asked.

  “I doubt I could pick her out in a lineup, which is what the police asked me. Under the circumstances, I wouldn’t trust my skills of observation to that degree. I did make a quick sketch of my impressions of her right after I called 911, though.”

  A sketch wasn’t as good as a valid description but Hawk figured it beat nothing. “Did anyone from the FBI visit you to talk about the incident?”

  “No, just a local policeman, and that was by phone. I offered him the sketch. He said he’d come by to pick it up, but I never saw him. Like I said, I don’t think he was too impressed once he realized I didn’t get a really good look at the abductor. He did promise to see that the investigation team got the report. I’m assuming they did or you wouldn’t know to visit me now.”

  “Do you still have the sketch?” Hawk asked.

  She nodded. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes.” Alonsa answered for him and the eagerness in her voice made him wince. He was still confident he could produce results, but not overnight. If she was going to live or die on every move he made, this would be incredibly hard on her.

  “I’ll be right back,” Marilyn said. She walked to a tall, gray file cabinet near the s
helving and returned with a manila folder. She took out a drawing and handed it to Alonsa.

  Hawk shifted for a better view. The drawing was in pencil, the features loosely defined, but still detailed enough that if someone knew the woman they might have recognized her.

  A laundry list of information bordered the right side of the sheet of plain white paper.

  Hair: Reddish brown

  Age: Mid-thirties

  Body Build: Thin to average

  Dress: Wrinkled denim capris and green T-shirt.

  Hawk weighed each of the items in his mind, impressed by the specificities the artist had noted.

  Alonsa’s grip tightened, wrinkling the corner of the paper for a second before she pushed it toward Hawk. “It’s not the same woman who left the zoo with Lucy. Her hair was blond and much longer. And she was dressed differently.”

  “I’m so very sorry if I’ve just made this harder on you,” the artist said. Her eyes sought out Hawk’s. “But I’m almost sure that was Lucy Salatoya I saw in that car. If not, the likeness was remarkable.”

  “We’re not ruling out that possibility,” Hawk said. “Do you mind if I keep the drawing?”

  “By all means, keep it. I just wish I could have been more help.”

  He and Alonsa both expressed their thanks again. Alonsa’s voice remained reasonably steady. Her demeanor didn’t. Brutal disappointment glazed her dark eyes and tugged at the corners of her lips. He felt the overpowering urge to take her in his arms and offer…

  Offer what? Emotional support? He had to be crazy to even think he could do that. He was a machine. A laughing, loving, calculating, emotionless machine. His commanding officer had praised him for that. His ex-wife hadn’t.

  Still, when his arm brushed Alonsa’s on the way to the rental car they’d picked up at the airport, the need to protect her from all this felt like chunks of solid metal rattling around inside him.

  Alonsa buckled her seat belt, then picked up the drawing Hawk had propped against the canister between their seats. “Why bother with this sketch? It’s obviously not the woman who kidnapped Lucy.”