Which didn’t mean anything. If she was going to commit a crime, she would leave her phone at home. There would be no pinging signals off cell towers to track her movements.
Ben looked a little more implacable than usual. “I have to ask.”
“Of course you do. I understand.” That first bite of cookie had tasted incredible. Now it was just filler for an unsettled stomach. “Will and I have had our share of disagreements, but we haven’t come to blows since I was five and I gave him his first black eye. Lolly and I don’t even have disagreements. She says as long as she’s happy, she’ll keep the rest of us happy, and she does.”
A single tear slid down Yashi’s cheek, and she brushed it away. She absolutely believed in the catharsis of tears, but now wasn’t the time, and in front of Ben wasn’t the place. Even in his warmest, most touchy-feely moments, he wasn’t a there, there sort of person.
But he’d always given her a there, there sort of feeling. Quiet, stoic, confident in his ability to take care of his world. She thought her father had been like that, though she didn’t have a lot of memories to support that conclusion. Just two constants, really: she’d always been happy to see him, and she’d always been aware of the change in her mother when he came home every night: her voice a little lighter, her touch a little gentler, her face a little prettier. Everything was better when Daddy was home.
And it had been. Until the night neither Daddy nor Mama had come home, nor Uncle Joey nor Aunt Shannon. For the next twenty years, until she’d moved to Cedar Creek, Yashi hadn’t even had a place to call home.
And then she’d met Ben, and everything had been all right again.
Ben chose another cookie, breaking it neatly in half and taking a bite before setting the piece down again. When he raised his gaze, it landed somewhere over Yashi’s right shoulder. “I also have to ask... What about Brit?”
Righteous disbelief flared inside her, sputtering out almost as quickly. How many times had she asked witnesses similar questions and provoked similar responses? I’m just covering the bases, she’d assured them. I have to consider all possibilities.
She unclenched her hands, rested them on the arms of the chair and drew a deep breath. “Absolutely not. She’s moody sometimes, and self-absorbed sometimes, but she’s also got the kindest heart a person could want. Lolly is good at picking her battles with Brit. She always says, ‘Is this the hill I want to—’”
The rest of the adage caught in Yashi’s lungs, turning her breath into a wheeze, but she forged on. “—‘to die on?’ Is proving her authority worth the fallout over something simple like green hair, or is it better to save the big guns for the big battles? That sort of thing.” She swiped one hand across her nose. “They get along great. Lolly sets the rules, and Brit mostly follows them. When it calls for compromise, Lolly does. When she doesn’t, Brit always knows why. And she knows Lolly’s always, always got her back.”
“And Will?” Ben asked.
A moment from last Sunday flashed through Yashi’s mind: Brit pulling her dad to the restaurant steps, climbing onto his back, and Will giving her a piggyback ride the twenty feet to their car. “He still looks at her and sees the eight-year-old pigtailed tomboy who will always be Daddy’s princess. In his head, he knows she’s growing up and away, but in his heart, he pretends it’s not happening.”
“Were they aware that she and Jared are having sex?”
Suddenly weary all the way to her toes, Yashi tugged the quilt closer. “Lolly has had the abstinence-is-good talk with both kids since before they even understood it, and she’s given Brit the if-you-can’t-wait-be-prepared speech a dozen times. She’d scheduled Brit’s first appointment with a gynecologist for next month, and she was more or less resigned to the fact that birth control was going to be the topic of the day.”
Because Lolly also remembered what it was like to be fifteen, with a sweet boy swearing he would love her forever.
In the silence that followed, Yashi thought wistfully of a dark room, a bed, cold air, warm covers and a solid breathing being beside her to remind her she wasn’t alone. To let her ease her muscles, relax her nerves, to take deep breaths and stop thinking, stop worrying and sleep, please God, without dreams. Being awake was enough of a nightmare.
There was a bed down the hall, and Ben was more than enough to make her feel safe, but that wasn’t going to happen. Her own bed would have to do, and whatever comfort she found would come from Bobcat. If she woke up, alone in the dark and afraid... She’d been there before. Would be there again. She always found her way back into the light.
“One more question, and I’ll take you home.”
Her eyes had drifted shut while she longed for peace. She opened them to see Ben’s gaze steady on her. No, she felt it first. Had always felt it. From the very first time they’d met.
He looked tired, too. Nothing obvious like bleary eyes or drooping features. It was just an indefinable something about him that only those who knew him well would recognize. Feeling bad that fate had forced him back into her presence, she sat straighter and pretended she’d found a new source of energy.
“What do you know about Jared?”
She blew out a breath. “He seems like a nice kid. Never been in any trouble. Honors student. Polite within limits.”
Ben’s snort was so faint she barely heard it. It had been an ongoing joke in the DA’s office that the more times a suspect said please and thank you and sir and ma’am, the guiltier he was.
“I can’t imagine Jared ever plotting anything more devious than—than—” She couldn’t even think of a way to finish the statement. He was a nice kid. She liked him.
“Than inviting his girlfriend over for the night when his parents are out of town?” Ben stood, towering over her, prompting her to stand as well. “The problem is, individuals do all sorts of things we don’t imagine them capable of. That’s why trust is an issue.”
He said it blandly, as if it applied to this conversation and nothing else, but it sent a flush of heat through her. She’d broken his trust, and she doubted that was something he would ever forgive.
Sliding the quilt off her shoulders, she folded it, then laid it across the back of the chair, one hand smoothing the fabric before she forced herself to speak calmly, unaffectedly. “You got two questions for the price of one. Can I go home now?”
Chapter 4
Ben drove around the back of Yashi’s office and parked beside the Bug. Neither of them had spoken after their last remarks at the house, making the drive one of the more uncomfortable ones in his recent experience. She hadn’t acted stiff and insulted. She’d just sat in the passenger seat, turned slightly to the right, and stared at her cousins’ house until it was out of sight, then continued to stare that way. Her shoulders were rounded, her breathing quiet except for an occasional huff.
At their destination, it took her a moment to realize the reason they’d stopped, to click back into the present and recognize where they were. Clenching her keys and cell—all she’d brought with her—she slid to the ground, started to shove the door shut, but stopped. “If you hear anything...”
“We’ll let you know.” Not him. Not if it was bad news. That would be Sam and Lois’s job. If worse came to worst, Yashi deserved someone who could hold her, console her and be her shoulder to cry on. Ben couldn’t be that for her, not anymore.
She murmured thanks, closed the door and walked through the opening in the white picket fence. She looked bereft as she followed the stepping-stones to the house. There was no backward glance when she climbed the steps, no wave from the door when she let herself inside.
The door closed. He knew she locked it behind her, because that was what she did. Next, she would turn on a light, but it didn’t happen right away. He could too easily imagine her leaning against the door or sliding to the floor, letting loose the tears that had been close all day, crying the way
she always had: alone.
Sometimes Ben’s family and friends drove him crazy, but at least he’d never known all the different ways of being alone that Yashi knew.
He lifted one hand from the steering wheel to rub the middle of his chest.
Finally, he backed around the Bug and left. Halfway through town, he slowed and pulled into the Creek Café parking lot. His plan to get dinner to go and head back home to write his reports took a hit when he saw the greeter seated just inside the door, but he hesitated an instant too long to successfully retreat.
Great-Aunt Weezer crooked her finger at him through the glass. Ben sighed. He was a cop, carried a gun and a Taser, and still, ignoring a summons from his great-aunt was more than his life was worth. Swallowing a sigh, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
“I figured you’d get hungry sooner or later and stop in. I didn’t think you’d leave it so late,” she announced from her perch on a bar stool at the hostess station.
“It’s only—” His gaze flicked to the wall clock above her. “Five forty-five.” It seemed weeks since he’d woken up this morning with nothing more than coffee, breakfast and rain on his mind. Not even ten hours.
“I seen you drive by. Several times.”
“I’m working, Great-Aunt.”
“You think your face is so pretty, I’d be wanting to see it if you wasn’t?”
Yep, that was Great-Aunt Weezer. Not a sentimental bone in her body. According to his other great-aunts, she’d been born cranky, and time hadn’t improved her one bit. She was blunt and bossy and could sour fresh cream with a look. She didn’t trust anyone but family, and she didn’t like them most of the time. Along with his mother, she was one of the constants in his life, and he loved her.
“I didn’t think you worked on Saturday nights.”
“I’m not working. I’m meeting someone.”
Meeting someone? People didn’t arrange to meet Weezer. She just sort of happened to them when they weren’t looking.
She slid to the floor, a solid clunk drawing his gaze as she held out her arms wide. “How do I look?”
What? She never cared about her appearance. Or her behavior, her attitude, her reputation, her temper or anything else. She gave people two choices: take her or leave her. It didn’t matter to her.
What was the best way to compliment a crotchety ninety-some-year-old woman with a penchant for pinching and scowling, who opted for comfortable and cheap in her clothing and bought most things a size too big?
This evening, the long skirt was pink cotton, a step up from the usual faded denim skirts or floral housedresses. Her white T-shirt didn’t have a picture or a logo on the front—another indication that she was fancying up—and holy cow, those were real shoes that had made the clunk when she stood up. No broken-down suede moccasins or fuzzy house slippers. And one of those real shoes, brown leather with a low heel, began to tap impatiently. “You’ve got words, nephew. Use them.”
“You clean up real good.”
Her faded gaze narrowed, then she let out a bark of laughter. “You know, you’re not my least favorite relative. Now, I don’t have much time. What happened out there?”
Ben didn’t want to discuss the Muellers’ disappearance. Gossip spread effectively in Cedar Creek; Weezer probably knew almost as much as he did. It wasn’t his policy to talk about cases with family anyway, so he deflected his great-aunt with a question of his own. “Who are you meeting?”
Weezer did something he’d never seen her do before—never thought her capable of doing. She...fluttered. Patted her iron-gray hair. Tugged at her shirt. Adjusted her mussel shell necklace. Flushed as pink as the shell. “Aw, it’s just that Fred Allbright. Met him over at the community center. Plays a mean hand of Texas Hold’em. Not anything special. Just dinner.”
Ben drew a startled breath. Good God, Great-Aunt Weezer had a date. His weary brain was trying to process that when the door opened and her fluttering vanished. Her gaze swept to the newcomer, and she actually smiled. Well, as close as she ever came.
His senses returning, Ben grabbed the opportunity to escape. “I’ve got to see Mom,” he said quickly, gave a nod to the wizened, gnomish little man and beat it into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he collided with his mother, two sisters and an aunt. He expected, oh, maybe a greeting of some sort. What he got was shoved to the side by youngest sister Mercy, who would have made a great linebacker, especially with Aunt Denise at her back.
“He looks harmless enough,” Mom whispered, peering out the narrow space between door and jamb.
“He looks sane, too, but he’s going out with Great-Aunt, so what does that prove?” middle sister Toni shot back.
“He’s just as cute as a little bug,” Aunt Denise said.
Ben straightened to his full height, laid one hand on the door high above their heads and closed it. “Spying on guests in the restaurant?”
All four women raised their gazes to his. His mom stood as tall as she could, too, though she fell about fifteen inches short of him, and bristled. “It’s not spying when it’s my restaurant. I own every single thing in here—including you. Besides, just like you, I have a duty to serve and protect, and I’m looking out for Great-Aunt’s best interests. At least, I was. If you want food here tonight, let go.”
He did, and she cracked the door open, then sighed. “They’re gone. I hope you’re happy.”
“About as much as usual,” he lied as the other women scattered.
His mother stepped back and folded her arms over her middle to study him. She was sturdy and tireless. Life had given her no choice once her husband ran away with her last paycheck, their only car and his girlfriend. He’d left Mary Grace with six kids, no money and the quickest recovery from heartbreak humankind had ever seen.
I loved your father dearly, right up until I realized how desperate our circumstances were, and that was it. I fell out of love with him—She’d snapped her fingers. Like that.
He wished he’d been that lucky with Yashi. But he would have to have been a different person. He hadn’t just loved her; he’d let her inside, let her become a part of him.
Let her? He hadn’t had a say in the matter. It had just happened. He’d discovered one day that he wasn’t just dating her, wasn’t just having sex with her. He was savoring her when she was with him and missing her when she was gone. He was changing from a man alone, responsible only to himself, to a couple, from Ben to Ben-and-Yashi. Decisions he’d once made alone suddenly merited her input; his focus shifted from enjoying the present to looking to the future. He’d changed, and he was happy with it.
Then she’d ripped his entire life apart.
His mother’s look turned sympathetic. “Bad case?”
“Triple kidnapping. Will and Lolly Mueller and their boy.”
“Oh Lord. He comes in more often than she does—during the workday, you know. The whole family’s here probably once a week. They seem like very nice people. They’re never difficult—kids shut off their electronics, they tip well. I can’t imagine who could possibly want to hurt them.”
“I’m hearing a lot of that, but apparently someone’s got a reason.” He breathed deeply of the rich, gorgeous aromas: frying peppers, onions and garlic; rolls and biscuits and corn bread; beef stew and goulash and fried pork chops; sugar and butter and vanilla. Home, for him, had never been a specific place but rather smells. These smells were the backdrop for his entire life.
His stomach growled, and his mother patted his arm. “Go sit down somewhere, and I’ll fix you a little something to take with you.”
Knowing her little something would feed him for at least three meals, he did as she suggested, taking a seat out of the way in the back of the kitchen, where he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and pondered the two most important questions of his day.
Who had taken the Muellers?
Would they get out of this alive?
And less important but still in his mind: Would he come away from this new contact with Yashi intact, or was he about to find himself in deep trouble again?
* * *
When Yashi woke Sunday morning, for one lovely moment, it was an ordinary day. The sun was sending rays through the small, high windows just below the roof, casting bands of light across the interior. Bobcat was snuggled beside her, one ear propped on the edge of her pillow, and the only sound out of the ordinary was the low whistle of a train passing two miles to the west. Was that what had awakened her from a lovely, delicious dream that had left her warm and tingly and feeling oh, so relaxed, limp and happy in Ben’s—
All the good feelings inside her deflated as quickly as if popped by a pin, and yesterday’s memories rushed in to fill the void. Will and Lolly and Theo... Oh God, how could she have forgotten them even in her sleep?
Because she wasn’t Superwoman. She’d been exhausted when she’d crawled into bed last night. She’d barely remembered her own name.
Were they all right? Injured? Dear God, were they still alive? Was the kidnapper keeping them together, or had he separated them? Poor Theo must have been so scared. He was only eight, a brave kid but a little unsure about the comfort of any bed besides his own. He felt best in his ninja pajamas, with his matching comforter and his snuggle buffalo named Bernie.
And his mom and dad: Lolly, always so content with life, now terrified by the threat against them, praying frantically for their rescue, and Will, feeling he’d failed in protecting his precious family. The blood in the living room was probably his; he would have put up a hell of a fight. Yashi prayed most of it belonged to the kidnapper. She hoped he’d suffered severely—but, please, Lord, don’t let him die while he’s got my family hidden somewhere.
Her thoughts were switching to Brit, physically safe but probably an emotional wreck after last night, when Bobcat roused. With easy grace, he stretched, his back forming a fine arch, then he gave her a chastising look and, with a few leaps, traded the bed for a sun-bathed windowsill. His morning routine: a stretch, grooming in the warm sun, another stretch, then a graceful descent to the kitchen, where he naturally expected breakfast to be waiting. He could turn to grumpy cat very quickly if he was disappointed.
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