Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “I do not remember the abduction itself,” she began. “I spent the next five years with a man I do remember. I presume he was the one to take me, although he might have acquired me from someone else. Eventually, he abandoned me in a motel room in Bakersfield, California.” Head high, she looked around. “By then, I no longer remembered my name or family. He had taught me to call him Daddy. Authorities were unable to locate him, but assumed he was my father. I was placed in the foster care system, where I was fortunate enough to have some fine people to help me heal.” She talked about graduating from high school and working a variety of jobs before deciding to get a college degree. “A part of me was afraid to walk into the sheriff’s department and say, ‘I think I’m Hope Lawson.’ I wasn’t at all sure I really was, and also...acknowledging it forces me to face a great deal from my past. I know you have questions, and I will answer some, but not all. I ask you to respect my right to privacy.”

  The questions flew. She did answer some. Seth answered others. Yes, he told them, Bailey had that day submitted a sample for a DNA test, but along with the obvious family resemblance and Bailey’s memory of her background, a birthmark had solidified their certainty that she was Hope. Karen did most of the talking for the Lawsons, but Eve told everyone there how thrilled she was to have Hope home.

  “After I came to live with the Lawsons, I felt incredibly lucky. But I was always conscious of a hole in our family. Hope was missing. Somewhere, I had a sister out there. Now—” she aimed a shy but warm smile at Hope “—she’s home.”

  Truth, Seth thought, but not all of it.

  Tears ran down Karen’s face. Kirk swiped some from his own cheeks. Cameras caught it all.

  At last the sheriff stepped up to the podium again and made a plea for everyone to respect the Lawsons’ need for privacy and space to move ahead with their lives. Trying for unobtrusive, Seth opened the door at the back of the stage and signaled for the family to fade back.

  The moment he’d closed the door, Karen burst into sobs. Looking helpless, Kirk put his arms around her. Eve hovered close, murmuring comforting words, while Bailey stood apart looking helpless and awkward.

  “I’m so happy!” Karen wailed, and Seth sort of understood. Twenty-three years’ worth of agony, despair, guilt and hope—yeah, hope—had all been released today to fly free.

  Whether she liked it or not, Bailey Smith now had a family, with all the complications that entailed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “MOM TOLD ME you need a place to stay,” Eve said in a low voice her parents wouldn’t hear. “That Seth insists you move out of the hotel.”

  They had been ushered into a conference room in the public safety building to wait for the tumult to die down so they could all slip away.

  “He thinks some members of the press might be staying there,” Bailey agreed. “That they’re all going to try to get me by myself. I packed and checked out earlier.”

  “You can stay with me if you want.” Eve sounded offhanded, even abrupt. “I don’t have a spare bedroom, but I do have a pullout couch.”

  Bailey tilted her head, assessing the sincerity of this woman whom she’d barely met. Eve was trying to hide it, but, if Bailey read her right, she fairly bristled with dislike and resentment. It seemed ludicrous they had to pretend to have a sisterly relationship.

  Was there any chance she actually did want them to get better acquainted? But all Bailey had to do was meet that expressionless gaze to know the answer. No. Her parents had thought it would be wonderful if Bailey stayed with her. She’d just about had to make the offer. But she wanted Bailey in her apartment about as much as Bailey wanted to be there.

  Of course, there was the little problem of where she would go. One of those freeway exit hotels back in Mount Vernon, she thought, even as she studied Eve.

  Her adopted sister was beautiful. Bailey knew when she was outshone. The other thing that stood out was how very different they looked, making her wonder if the Lawsons had asked for a foster daughter who bore no resemblance to their lost child. Had that occurred to Eve? Something else that might sting.

  Masses of dark, curly hair fell to the middle of Eve’s back and framed a delicate, heart-shaped face. She had huge, brown eyes accentuated by long, dark lashes. She didn’t have to plaster on mascara to make her eyelashes visible, or use a pencil to color in pale eyebrows. Her complexion was dark enough to suggest she might be half Latina or Italian or—who knew?—Philippine or Arabic. Arabian nights, was what Bailey had thought, seeing her. Eve’s looks were somehow exotic, although she didn’t have the lush body that would make her a fortune at belly dancing. She was slimmer than Eve, almost slight, and small-breasted.

  “Thank you for offering,” she said pleasantly, “but I already have something arranged.”

  Eve’s nostrils flared. “I suppose Seth has taken care of you.”

  Bailey refused to give anything away. “He’s been thoughtful.”

  “Oh, he can be that.” Her lip curled the tiniest amount. “Until he’s not.” Eve turned her back, excluding Bailey. “Mom, Dad, if we go out the side door we ought to be able to make our getaway.”

  Karen gazed beseechingly at Bailey. “Oh, but... Hope.”

  “She has someplace else to stay.” Eve didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder.

  Bailey took a deep breath, centered herself and smiled at Karen. My mother. “Could we have lunch tomorrow?”

  “Oh!” Her cheeks pink, she turned her head as if it was a given she’d consult her husband. “Kirk, can you make it?”

  He patted her back. “I think Bailey was inviting just you. It might be easier for her to get to know us one-on-one.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  He shook his head. “Of course I don’t. Bailey and I, well, we’ll have a chance.”

  For some reason, the idea of spending time with him caused jolts of anxiety. Not fear—she didn’t think she’d ever been afraid of him, but...there was something.

  Karen smiled. “Then I would love to have lunch with you, Hope.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning, if that’s all right,” Bailey suggested.

  “Perfect.”

  Eve gave one narrow-eyed look over her shoulder, then escorted her parents out of the room. Bailey heard the deep grit of Seth’s voice speaking to them. From where she was standing, she couldn’t hear every word, but she made out enough to gather he was trying to separate Eve from her parents and failing because they were oblivious. The voices all faded as he apparently walked them out.

  She sank into a chair at the long table, wishing she could take off, too. If she knew where to go—

  Hostility masking all-too-familiar panic had her stiffening. Who said she had to consult him? She didn’t need Seth Chandler. Yes, he had been nice, but she knew damn well how he saw her. His ticket to fame and advancement. He’d be damn near as famous as she would be. The dedicated, caring detective who worked tirelessly to bring Hope Lawson home despite the heavy weight of his caseload. She could just hear it, said solemnly by a newscaster introducing the story.

  Her suitcase was in the trunk of her rental. If she was lucky, she could dodge him and just go. To a hotel that wasn’t in Stimson. Maybe even one all the way south of Seattle by SeaTac. She could fly out in the morning. Call and apologize to Karen. Promise to stay in touch.

  She jumped up from the chair, snatched up her bag and made for the door.

  A couple of heads turned when she appeared in the hall, but she saw only one person. Seth, striding toward her, lines creasing his forehead. Frustration? Irritation? She couldn’t tell. But his expression changed when his gaze locked on her like a heat-seeking missile.

  Her knees inexplicably wobbled. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Detective.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

  “Leaving?”

  He gripped her arm. “I thought this would be a good time for us to talk.”

  Her heart co
ntracted. “Talk?”

  “I want to put that son of a bitch behind bars where he can never touch a little girl again,” he said with controlled ferocity. “Never so much as set eyes on one.”

  Without volition, she retreated a step. “I...didn’t realize you intended to do that so soon.” She was infuriated by the die-away tone. Gothic heroine, ready to swoon. Unfortunately, she felt close.

  His hand on her arm tightened. “Are you all right, Bailey?”

  “No.” She tried to keep backing away. “This has been a really hard day. I don’t... I can’t...”

  “Will it be any easier tomorrow?”

  This gentler tone weakened her. Damn him, she thought furiously. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push.

  “I don’t know, but forgive me if I’m not eager to dredge up the nightmare I’ve spent a whole lot of years doing my damnedest to suppress.”

  “You want to let him get away with what he did to you?” His stare was hard now, all cop. Tactic number two: lay some guilt on her.

  Trembling, she said, “What I want is to erase him from my memory.”

  “What if he’s stalking a little girl right now?”

  “Oh, that’s low,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes briefly. “It was. I’m sorry, Bailey. Being pushy... I guess it gets to be a habit.”

  Still trembling in his grasp, she looked up at the strong-boned face that, despite everything, reassured her. And then she was the one to close her eyes in shame. “It was also true.”

  “What? That I’m pushy?”

  “That he could have his eye on another little girl now. Only...mightn’t he be too old?”

  “Depends on how old he is.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged. “You win. Let’s get this over with.”

  He looked disturbed. “I win? Bailey, this isn’t about me putting something over on you.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He grunted, accepting what she’d said but not necessarily buying into it. Still, he steered her into the same room, his hand warm on her back. She was becoming accustomed to the feel of that hand, solid, comforting and... Realizing what she felt was a shimmer of excitement, she put on the brakes. Whoa. Not going there.

  Seth closed the door behind them, waiting until she’d pulled out a chair before sitting down directly across the table from her. His gaze on her face, he pulled a pen and small spiral notebook from a pocket. He’d come prepared.

  “Start anywhere you want,” he said in a tone obviously meant to calm her. Animal control officer coaxing a terrified, possibly vicious dog. “Or, if you prefer, I’ll ask questions.”

  “No.” She turned her gaze away to the bland, textured wall usual for these kind of rooms. She didn’t look forward to seeing pity and disgust in those eyes. “His name—” Oh, God, this was hard to say. She forced the rest out, her voice rusty “—was Les Hamby. At least, that’s what he called himself then.”

  Describing the monster who haunted her dreams was worse than speaking his name aloud. The more mundane she made him sound, the more pitiable she felt. If he wasn’t huge and snarling...what was her excuse for not escaping?

  “You think five foot eight or nine,” Seth said, making notes. “Skinny.”

  “Wiry,” she said, still not meeting his eyes. “He was strong, or at least, he seemed so to me.”

  “Will you sit down with an artist to try to come up with a drawing?”

  See his face again? A scream bounced around in her head, so piercing it was hard to believe Seth didn’t hear it. But, “Yes,” she murmured.

  “His hair wasn’t graying,” Seth said thoughtfully.

  “No.”

  “Picture him, Bailey. You’re an adult now. Can you estimate his age?”

  Beneath the table, her hands fisted, her fingernails biting into her palms. “I...don’t know. When I see him, I’m a child. He wasn’t graying, or...” God, was she rocking? Yes. “Thirties, maybe. I suppose he could have been younger. Late twenties. Old enough to not look like a college student.”

  “Not forties.”

  “No.” Surprised at her certainty, she sucked in a breath, then repeated, “No.”

  “Did he use the same name the whole time you were with him?”

  “Yes. I thought—” There was the naive child again.

  “You thought?”

  She jerked one shoulder. “That was his real name.”

  “Did you ever see his ID?”

  “No.” Her pulse picked up. “He’d have killed me if he saw me looking in his wallet.”

  “But you know he had ID.”

  “Yes. I mean, he had to show something when he rented rooms. And...one time he was pulled over. A taillight was out. Nothing happened, so he must have had a driver’s license and registration and maybe even an insurance card.”

  Seth contemplated her. “Do you remember when and where that happened?”

  Breathe.

  “It was...” Close your eyes. Think. “California. Maybe. I don’t remember where. It was a sheriff’s deputy. Not a state patrol officer. We were in really dry country, like desert. So it might have been Nevada. We were there for a while.”

  “And how old were you?”

  “I don’t know.” The first birthday party she remembered was in her second foster home. “By that time, I’d forgotten where I came from.”

  She felt herself rocking again and hoped the movement was slight enough he wouldn’t notice. After her daddy had pulled to the side of the road, he’d twisted her arm like a pretzel. It hurt for so long, she guessed he had broken or at least cracked it. “Call me Daddy,” he’d hissed, while they waited for the policeman to walk forward. “Look happy. Do you hear me?”

  She blocked that part of the memory. “I might have been eight or nine?”

  “Good.” His voice was deep, but also capable of sounding so patient and even tender. Just another weapon in his arsenal, she thought, arming herself with cynicism. “Let’s talk about where you lived.”

  She’d forgotten so much. Tried so hard to forget. But some towns stuck in her memory anyway. They’d wandered the west—Idaho, Nevada, Oregon, California. “I don’t think we ever went to Utah, but maybe Arizona? I’m not sure.” She told him the kinds of places they’d stayed. A few flashing motel signs had stuck with her.

  “No big cities,” he said thoughtfully.

  Bailey shook her head. “Not really little towns, either, or at least not for more than a night. Big enough that nobody noticed us, and economically depressed. Or maybe that was only the parts of town I saw. He’d get work sometimes and leave me locked in the room while he was gone.”

  Seth didn’t say, Why the hell didn’t you take off? Ask for help? Maybe he knew. This was why she had never told anyone the whole story. Because they wouldn’t understand.

  Or maybe they would, which might be worse. Her own self-loathing was sufficient, thank you very much.

  Of course Seth wanted to know what kind of work he had done. She tried never to think of him by his name and certainly not as Daddy.

  “Handyman. He had tools in the trunk. But he was a mechanic, too. Sometimes he got a job working on cars. I don’t know what else.”

  “Did he have friends? Did you ever meet other people who seemed to know him?”

  She shook her head emphatically at that. “He never brought anybody to our room. He did go out to bars. He got drunk, but not falling down.” She had to close her eyes to say this. “Mean. He especially liked to hurt me when he was drunk.”

  Seth made a pained sound that had her looking at him, really looking, for the first time since she’d started telling him about those terrible years.

  “Goddamn,” he whispered. “I would do anything to go back and keep him from ever laying a hand on you.”

  “Why? You didn’t know me. You still don’t really.”

  “I know you well enough to want to protect you.” He lifted a hand that shook to his face, rubbed
his jaw, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me to show you the pictures I have of you.”

  “Pictures? I’ve seen the ones that were online. I mean, the school picture.”

  “Your mother—Karen—has been bringing me a snapshot a week,” he said with a grimace. “Baby pictures. Toddler pictures. You laughing, staring solemnly at the camera, playing, reading. It was torture.”

  “You could have told her to stop.”

  “No. It was her way of keeping me invested.” He gusted out a sigh. “A very effective way. Your smile haunted me. Your eyes.” He stopped. “You were such a happy child, Bailey. Your smile was like...turning on a light in a dark room.” He frowned. “You still have a beautiful smile. I just have this feeling it’s not lit from within like it was then. It’s only on the outside. I’d like to see you smile again as if you mean it,” he finished roughly.

  She stared at him, unable to figure out why he sounded as if he cared so much. It didn’t make any sense. Sexual come-ons, those she got. But this...this was unfamiliar. It made a lump rise in her throat.

  Fighting perplexing emotions she didn’t understand, she lifted her chin. “Are we done?”

  “No.” And he kept asking questions. She’d said she watched TV. Maybe she remembered channels, local ads, specific news stories that would pinpoint where she and Mr. Hamby had been at specific times. To her astonishment, she had some answers. Stupid commercial jingles catchy enough she could still hum them.

  “There was a murder,” she said slowly, this memory rising from deep within. “The body was found in a room in the motel where we were staying. He had parked out back. He always did if he could. He grabbed me and we walked toward the diner like we were going to eat, then got in the car and left before the police could start knocking on doors. I remember the flashing lights and people gathering to stare. We had to leave some of our stuff behind.”