A Hero in Her Eyes

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Because perhaps one of them sought to ease their grief and somehow mistook Bonnie for the daughter they lost.” She saw his jaw tighten to the point that she thought it might snap.

  He tossed the list back on the desk. “And you think that person might be in here?”

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth. This was the tricky part. “I don’t know. If these people’s daughter died in another state…”

  Eliza left it unsaid. There were already a great many names to sort through. Taking the different states into account would give them an utterly unmanageable number of possibilities.

  “All right, let’s get started,” Walker said.

  She looked at him uncertainly. “Let’s get started?” she repeated. Did he intend to come along with her when she spoke to these people? She would have thought that was an awkwardness he’d rather avoid.

  “I said I was going to be part of this investigation, and I meant it.” He glanced again at the scattered pages. They wouldn’t be covered in a day. Perhaps not even in several days. But it was a start. “I want to do whatever it takes to help find my daughter. The last time, when the FBI was handling it, I had to stay on the sidelines. I can’t sit on my hands again. I can’t go through the waiting. I have to be there, on top of every lead.”

  She understood his need. She’d never been one to stand on the sidelines herself. Gathering the various pages together, she rose from her chair. “And you won’t. Let’s go.”

  And with that, she led the way out the door.

  Chapter 8

  They’d been at this for almost a week. Six days, to be exact. It felt longer.

  There had turned out to be twenty-nine names on the lists that Savannah had compiled from the various hospitals in the Southern California area. Twenty-nine blond girls between the ages of two and four who had died during the time frame they were examining. A preliminary search through various public records and databases had shown up nothing out of the ordinary, other than young lives taken too soon. Freak accidents and illnesses had claimed them; there had been nothing suspicious or noteworthy about any of the deaths, nothing suspicious thereafter.

  Eliza had gone to each family on the list, aching each time she rang the doorbell. Aching for the people on the other side of the door, and for the man who doggedly accompanied her on each and every call. It was hard to say which of them suffered more from the interviews, the families or Walker. Eliza could see that he was reliving the first shock of his loss with each stop they made.

  Because Walker had been so insistent about being there for every step, Eliza had purposely asked Rusty to look into the child molesters for her. In Walker’s current frame of mind, she was afraid of what he might do when confronting one of the five people on the list.

  They stopped at a traffic light. Walker was looking worn, Eliza thought, glancing at his profile. They had put in ten hours today, starting early and driving from one place to another, talking to family after family. Walker had asked her, when they’d begun this odyssey six days ago, just what it was she was hoping to find.

  “Bonnie,” she’d answered simply. “I’m hoping to either see a six-year-old girl pop up unannounced, or get a sense of your daughter on the premises.”

  And he’d been skeptical and challenging as always. Having gotten to know what to expect, Eliza would have been disappointed if he hadn’t been.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t call these ‘things,’ whatever they are, up at will.”

  “I can’t,” she’d confirmed again. “But those dreams are so strong, all I can think is that it has to mean, however temporarily, that there’s a very real bond between Bonnie and me. If she’s around, that should mean I can sense it.”

  “So in essence, you’re a psychic bloodhound.”

  She’d smiled at the description. “Not very flattering or poetic, but yes, that about sums it up.”

  And me as well, she’d thought. At least in his eyes.

  Cynicism gave way to amusement, however minor. “Never had a conversation with a bloodhound before,” he’d told her.

  But now, Walker just looked beleaguered and deflated. Her heart went out to him. This had to be grueling for him, and Eliza had no way to make it any easier.

  “Why don’t I drive you home?” she proposed. “We can call it a night.”

  They’d done that for five days running, and he’d agreed each time to her suggestion because there’d been such a long string of names left to go through. But this time was different. This time they were nearing the end, and he kept hoping that this long shot of hers was going to pay off.

  Subtly, he rotated his shoulders, trying to get the stiffness out. “How many names are left on the list?”

  “Two. We can do them in the morning,” Eliza said again.

  Walker wasn’t about to be put off. “We can do them now.”

  The commanding note in his voice was positively chilling. She could see his underlings jumping to attention whenever he spoke to them in that tone. She laughed softly. “If I were a soldier, I would have saluted you just now.”

  “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to bark at her like that. “It’s just that I have a feeling we’re so close…” Walker said.

  He didn’t need to explain. The man had a right to his frustration. She’d probably have felt the same in his place. “No problem.”

  It was hard to feel justified over losing control of his temper when she continued to absolve him like that. Walker looked at her, a smattering of curiosity surfacing. He figured it was a way to cut into the silence. “Were there any soldiers in your family?”

  “My dad.” She wasn’t sure if her father really qualified for the title. It wasn’t as if he’d started out being a career soldier. “But only for one tour of duty. My grandfather talked him into enlisting, thinking that the army would make him settle down.” Her grandfather had made no secret of his annoyance at the son who had dropped out of school, moving aimlessly from job to job. “He met my mother while he was stationed in Georgia.” Eliza smiled, remembering her mother’s tales. They’d come in the form of bedtime stories: the handsome soldier and the kindergarten teacher. Eliza had loved them. “I think she fell for the uniform and he fell for her southern accent.”

  Didn’t sound as if they’d had much in common; still, Walker felt compelled to say something positive. “Marriages have been built on less.”

  “And more,” she countered. Her parents would have been happier had there been more common ground for them. “Although God knows she tried to make a go of it. She just never knew what he wanted.” Eliza pushed back the sadness that insisted on finding her. Her parents were both gone; there was no reason to dwell on the negative. “Neither did he, I think. That’s what made it so hard.”

  Walker felt a stirring of sympathy and had no idea what to do with it, or how to express it. He wasn’t good at things like that. “Are you an only child?”

  “I think my father called me ‘an only mistake.”’ Eliza saw a streak of anger cross Walker’s brow and wondered if he was aware of it. “But to answer your question, I have no brothers or sisters. How about you?”

  “A sister. Older. Just by two years, but Patrice always thinks she knows what’s best.” He wondered what Eliza would say if she knew that Patrice had argued heatedly against his getting back on this numbing merry-go-round ride.

  “Bosses you around?” Even as she asked, Eliza couldn’t picture anyone attempting to tell Walker what to do.

  “She used to.” When they were growing up, he would have sworn Patrice was the bossiest person on the face of the earth. Certainly the bossiest sister. “Now she calls it ‘constructive input.”’

  Eliza heard the fond note in his voice. “Sounds as if you’re close.”

  Walker shrugged, looking through the window on the passenger side. “She lives in Newport Beach.”

  That wasn’t really an answer. The man was evasive. She wondered if his emotions had always been wrapped up so tightly, or i
f the kidnapping had done it to him. “I didn’t mean proximity.”

  “I know what you meant, I just…” His voice trailed off. He wasn’t accustomed to admitting anything this personal, even his attachment to a sister who meant a great deal to him. He’d never been overly demonstrative, and in the past two years he’d shut himself away almost completely. He was sure he was empty inside.

  If that were true, why had he kissed Eliza? a small voice mocked him. He chose not to listen.

  “Do you realize that we’ve been riding around in this car for essentially five-and-a-half days and that’s the longest conversation we’ve had? Certainly the most personal one,” Eliza commented.

  Yes, he realized it. He hadn’t meant to go on like that. Walker shifted in his seat, still staring out the window. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at her, unable to make heads or tails out of the single-word enquiry. “I thought you mentioned it because it made you uncomfortable.”

  If anyone was uncomfortable about it, it was him. The same instinct that had her bringing home wounded animals at a very young age made her want to help Walker.

  “I was just noting the conversation for posterity. I don’t mind personal conversations, Walker. The professional part of our relationship comes in with my finding Bonnie, but there’s no rule against our talking to each other or becoming friends.”

  “Friends?” He was on a first-name basis with a great many of the people he worked with. He didn’t think of any of them as friends, not really. Why should she be any different?

  “Friends are easier to talk to than strangers,” Eliza said.

  He shrugged, wishing the woman would do what he was paying her to do and not venture into areas she had no business being in. Served him right for making conversation, he admonished himself.

  “I’m not accustomed to doing much talking outside the parameters of business.”

  “That’s a pity.” The note of regret in her voice was sincere. “You have a definite knack for it.” When he made no comment, she knew she’d embarrassed him. It hadn’t been her intention. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather see these last two families when you’re fresher?”

  “I just want to get this over with.”

  Over with. It occurred to Eliza that she should say a few words to prepare him in case the last two interviews led them nowhere, just like the others had. But she knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. More than likely, he’d think she was talking down to him.

  He was intelligent enough, she reasoned, to know that this was a shot in the dark. One of many they might have to take before Bonnie was finally found.

  She hoped he was up to them.

  They had no luck with the second-to-last name on their list.

  Or with the last one, either.

  The tall, thin woman who had met them at the door had deep, dark circles under her eyes and the dull, vacant stare of someone who had not recovered from her loss. She appeared to be living alone in the house, except for a small dog that barked incessantly in the background. Fay Kelley chased them away, screaming after them and calling them ghouls for coming around to ask about her daughter. She slammed the door in their wake.

  “Maybe you should have her checked out further,” Walker said to her as they walked back to Eliza’s car at the curb.

  Eliza knew what he was doing. He was trying to hang on to hope. But this wasn’t where Walker would find it.

  Eliza shook her head. “Bonnie’s not here.”

  “How do you know?” he demanded. Frustrated, he waved his hand toward the house they’d just walked away from. “You never even went inside. What, the rays didn’t come permeating out to meet you? You didn’t get the right ‘vibes’?”

  “No,” she told him quietly, knowing he had to get this out of his system, “I didn’t.”

  “You know, the hell with your vibes, the hell with everything.” Angrily, Walker stormed past her car.

  He caught her off guard. It took her a second to recover. “Walker, get in the car,” she called out after him.

  He didn’t bother turning around. “No. I’ll walk home.”

  Eliza raised her voice. “It’s fifteen miles from here.”

  Right now, he felt as if he could use the distraction. “I’ll make good time. I was on the high school track and field team.”

  With a shake of her head, Eliza quickly got into the car and started it up. When she caught up to Walker, she slowed her vehicle down to match his pace. “Be reasonable.”

  Walking briskly, he didn’t look in her direction, even though the car remained parallel to him. “I am being reasonable, I need to work off this steam.”

  Eliza swerved to miss a parked car at the curb. “You have no steam to work off. It barely qualifies as a wisp rising out of a tepid kettle. And besides, I wasn’t referring to that, anyway.”

  That caught his attention. He slowed his pace and spared a glance in her direction. “What were you talking about, then?”

  Leaning over, one hand on the steering wheel, Eliza unlocked the passenger door. “Why don’t you get in and I’ll tell you?”

  He debated holding his ground, but she was right. He was being stubborn and he was tired. More tired than he’d ever thought possible. His exhaustion went clear down to the bone.

  Curbing a sudden, fresh onslaught of anger, he bit off a curse, opened the door and got in.

  His eyes were dark as he looked at her. “All right, I’m in. Talk.”

  She ignored the belligerent tone. “When I asked you to be reasonable, I meant about this being a long shot. We both knew there was a huge chance we were going to come up empty.” She looked at him. She didn’t need the streetlights or her intuition to know that he was struggling to maintain his temper. No one could blame him. “It’s only natural for you to hope otherwise, so did I, but the odds weren’t in our favor.”

  Walker pressed the button on the armrest and rolled down a window. He needed air to clear his head. It didn’t really help. “And just when do they get to be in our favor?”

  “They don’t.” That was the problem. The only supposed “sure thing” in this mix was her, and she knew he didn’t want to hear that. “We just keep going against them until we find her.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you talk in riddles?” Or maybe he was just too tired to follow her.

  “I’m a clairvoyant, I’m supposed to be mysterious.” She looked to see if she’d gotten a glimmer of a smile out of him. She hadn’t. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Just in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to lighten the mood.”

  He knew that she was and that his behavior wouldn’t win any gold stars, but he wasn’t exactly feeling congenial right now. He’d really begun to hope that maybe she was on to something. He should have known better.

  “You’re wasting your time, Eliza. I’m not interested in lightening the mood. There’s only one thing I’m interested in.”

  “Yes, I know. So am I.” She paused, weighing her words carefully, knowing that no matter what, he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “Look, Walker, this can’t be any good for you. Why don’t we leave it at this? I promise I’ll call you as soon as I have a viable lead.”

  He didn’t work that way, and he wasn’t about to let her think that he did. Shifting in his seat, he turned until the seat belt strained against his shoulder.

  “Look, until you came to my door last week, I had gotten my life back in some kind of order and on track. I’d resigned myself to accepting certain facts. And then you came in like gangbusters, talking about dreams and visions and whatever the hell else you claimed, and even though I knew logically that it was all just a bunch of bull, I let myself get sucked in. Let myself hope again that Bonnie was alive because you said she was.” He sank down in his seat again, staring straight ahead. “I should have had my head examined.”

  “It’s not your head that’s at stake here, Walker, it’s your heart.” The look he gave her was dark, bu
t she continued, anyway. “It’s your heart that believes Bonnie is still alive, your heart that isn’t convinced she’s gone.”

  She was bandying words about. “Head, heart—what does it matter?”

  “It matters a great deal, Walker,” she insisted, “because it’s the heart that causes miracles to happen.” The cynical look on his face only encouraged her. “It’s because the heart refuses to give up that people wake up from comas, that permanently crippled people walk, that—”

  He didn’t want to hear any more. He was this close to telling her where to go.

  “Don’t you ever stop?” he demanded. “Maybe I don’t want all this hope thrown at me. Maybe I just want to make my peace with reality. All your babbling is giving me one hell of a headache so I really wish you’d just back off.”

  She pressed her lips together, retreating. What he’d just said had reminded her too much of words her father had thrown at her. Words that had been just as hurtful.

  “All right,” she agreed quietly.

  Eliza concentrated on the road. Traffic was beginning to thin out, and if she sped up she’d make good time. They both needed a breather.

  This wasn’t going to work, she thought. She couldn’t try to make progress on one hand and deal with Walker’s skepticism on the other. She needed a clear head if she was going to find Bonnie.

  Maybe the debate was moot. For all she knew, when she dropped him off, Walker was going to terminate their association. Which would be just as well. She didn’t intend to drop the investigation, but she would make far more headway without Walker along. At the very least, he’d been a distraction. There were thoughts, feelings, emotions circling her that had nothing to do with the investigation, and she couldn’t afford to be split this way.

  She needed to pay attention to signs along the way, not to a darkly brooding man, no matter how good-looking he was.