Breakfast was eaten quickly, with the conversation centered on their visit with Marjorie’s mother. “She’s a lovely lady,” Jackson said.
“She’s got a lot of heart.”
“It bothers me that you live like a pauper and she’s in that luxury two-bedroom apartment,” he admitted.
“I don’t live like a pauper,” she protested.
He raised a dark brow and held her gaze. “Maggie, I know about what you make for a salary and it’s obvious you aren’t spending any of it on creature comforts for yourself. Hell, since I’ve been here I’ve never even seen you in anything but that white blouse and slacks. Do you have any other wardrobe?”
“Of course I do. I’m fine the way things are. I like helping out my mother.”
Jackson finished the last of the eggs on his plate and then looked at her again. “But wouldn’t it be better if you’d tell your mother the truth of the situation? Have her move to a place that’s more within her means and ease some of the pressure off you?”
“I think we need to solve this case, and you should keep your nose out of my personal life.” She straightened in her chair and he knew he’d crossed a line with her.
He reached out his hand and covered one of hers. She tried to pull away, but he held tight. “I just want more for you, Maggie. You deserve more from life.”
Her gaze searched his, as if seeking a joke, a facade of charm, but he knew she’d find nothing like that there. He’d spoken the simple, stark truth.
She tried to pull her hand from his again, and this time he let go, and she looked down at her plate. “I appreciate your concern for me, Jackson, but I’m doing just fine. I don’t require a lot to be happy.”
“Are you happy?” he asked.
Her beautiful green eyes met his once again and a frown darted across her forehead. She took a sip of her coffee and then placed the cup back on the table.
“I never really look for happy. I’m satisfied.... Most of the time I’m content with my life, and that’s good enough for me,” she finally replied.
He nodded, although he wasn’t sure why it wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted her to have things—scented oils for a bubble bath, a silk purple dress with killer high heels. She deserved dinner in a candlelit restaurant where the prices weren’t on the menu. He wanted her to have a luxurious carpet to rub her bare toes in at the end of a long day, a sofa soft enough to cradle her as she watched television to unwind.
He also wanted her to have laughter, and a man who loved her more than anyone else on the face of the earth. There was no question that she’d suffered financial devastation at the hands of scamming stepfathers, but he imagined she wasn’t even aware of the emotional trauma that had gone along with it.
She needed a man who could break through her defenses, a man who could find her pain and heal it with a well of endless love. But he knew he wasn’t that man, could never be that man no matter how much he might want to be.
She was right. The best thing he could do was help her solve this crime, and keep his nose out of her personal life. Surely when he was back home in his own apartment, living the superficial personal life he’d built for himself, he’d forget all about a green-eyed beauty who had somehow managed to touch the places in his heart he’d thought were untouchable.
“Don’t you find it strange that John Merriweather’s ex-wife has been missing for a week and a half and we haven’t received one single phone call from him?” Jackson asked as they got into her car. “I mean, if my ex-wife were missing, and we were amicable, I’d be camped out on the doorstep of the head investigator and demanding answers every minute of each day.”
“Maybe before we head to Mystic Lake we should have another check-in with John,” she suggested.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agreed.
Marjorie backed out of the driveway and hoped that the day forced her to keep her attention on the case and not on Jackson. The touch of his hand on hers, the genuine emotion she’d seen shining from his eyes at the table had both stunned her and sent a yearning through her she’d never felt before.
She didn’t care about expensive furniture or luxury items, but as she’d gazed into those blue eyes of his, she’d wanted him.
She headed in the direction of the Merriweather ranch house and tried not to think of that moment in time when the depth of her yearning for Jackson Revannaugh had taken her breath away, made her tingle with crazy need.
She realized that a part of her wouldn’t be averse to making love to him...just once, knowing that it would never mean anything, that she wouldn’t see him as a threat to the single life she’d chosen for herself.
He had a home to go back to and she had a life to live here. He was probably a great candidate for a single night of hot, mind-blowing sex because she knew they would never mean anything more than that to each other.
As she pulled into John’s driveway, she mentally shook herself, needing to get sex and Jackson off her brain and work the case that had gone nowhere so far.
It was strange that John hadn’t contacted anyone since Amberly’s disappearance. Surely, even though he was her ex-husband, it would be normal, since he and Amberly shared a child, for him to be rattling cages to find her. So why wasn’t he?
She didn’t realize how early it was until the door opened and a young boy with jet-black hair and big brown eyes answered. John was behind him in a second. “Any news?” he asked as he ushered the two of them inside.
“We have a few leads we’re following,” Jackson replied.
Marjorie sat on the sofa, and Max sidled up next to her. “Are you looking for my mom and Daddy Cole?” He leaned into her, bringing with him the scent of soap and innocence that shot a stab of pain straight through Marjorie. This was the victim of whatever had happened, a little boy who desperately needed his mommy back where she belonged.
“We’re trying our very best to find them,” she replied, fighting her impulse to wrap him in her arms.
“You haven’t heard anything?” Jackson asked, his features set in stern lines, reminding Marjorie that he still believed John was their number one suspect.
“Nothing,” John replied, his voice holding misery. “I’ve reached out to all her friends, people she’d mentioned working with, anyone I can think of, but nobody knows anything about what’s happened.”
He sank down in a chair and motioned Max to his side. “I’ve been making her welcome-home cards,” Max said. “But I need her to come home so I can give them to her.”
“We’re doing our best to make that happen,” Marjorie said. Max nodded, his expression far too somber and grown-up for such a little boy.
“We were just wondering why we hadn’t heard from you,” Jackson said, his gaze still focused on John.
John shrugged. “I haven’t contacted you because I don’t have any information to help you. I’d much rather you spend your time working on finding them than talking to me.” He raised his chin slightly, as if he felt Jackson’s suspicion. “If it would make you feel better about me, I’ll start calling you six or seven times a day for a progress report.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ll keep you informed of any new developments, and you let us know if you learn anything that might be helpful.” His glance at Marjorie indicated he was ready to leave.
As Marjorie stood up, Max returned to her side. “When you find my mom, would you please bring her home as soon as possible?” His dark eyes filled with tears. “I miss her really, really bad.”
Again her heart squeezed painfully tight as she placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can, Max.”
He nodded and stepped back to his father’s side. “We’ll be in touch,” Jackson said.
Once they were back in the car Marjorie slammed the steering wh
eel with the palm of her hand. “Who would be so evil to take away that little boy’s mother?”
“Let’s hope we get some answers in Mystic Lake today,” Jackson said, a hint of emotion thickening his voice.
They didn’t speak again until they reached the small town. The first place they stopped was at the sheriff’s office, where they found Roger Black seated in Cole’s office.
“Any news on the missing Jeff Maynard?” Jackson asked the middle-aged head deputy.
“Actually, I have a tip from the rumor mill that he’s holed up with Tara Tanner.”
Marjorie looked at him in surprise. “Jimmy’s ex-wife?”
Roger nodded. “That’s the word out on the streets. Apparently they were seen together last night at the liquor store.”
Marjorie’s head spun as she remembered their talk with Jimmy. Had Jimmy lied about Jeff not being at the poker party because he was ticked that Jeff was with his ex-wife?
Roger shoved a piece of paper toward them. “This is Tara’s address. Be careful—she’s a bit of a firecracker.”
“So we’ve heard,” Jackson replied.
Roger looked tired, with dark circles beneath his eyes and his brown hair standing on end as if it had felt the rake of frustrated hands through it too many times.
“I wish somebody would find Cole. This job was his, not mine. He’s a good sheriff and everyone wants him back behind this desk, where he belongs.”
“Right now we have three people in our sights as potential suspects,” Marjorie said. “Hopefully in the next hour or so we can either remove Jeff from that short list or confirm that he had something to do with Cole and his wife’s disappearance.”
“I wish all of us could be more help,” Roger said as he stood. “I’ve got all my men out on the streets, pounding the pavement in an effort to find some kind of answers, but so far we’ve come up empty-handed on our end.”
“We’re going to check in with good old Jeff now, and then we have another person of interest we intend to check out this afternoon,” Jackson said. “And in between those interviews we’ll be walking the streets, as well, seeing what scuttlebutt we might be able to pick up.”
“As you both know, we’re at your disposal at any time. Whatever you need from us, you’ve got,” Roger replied.
With that Marjorie and Jackson left with directions to Tara Tanner’s house. “Jimmy was mad at Cole for outing his cheating. I wonder what Tara’s feelings are about Cole?”
“She should probably consider he did her a big favor,” Jackson replied. “I’ve never understood women who put up with men who cheat on them.”
“Maybe it’s a matter of a bad man is better than no man at all,” she replied.
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t put up with a cheater,” he said.
“You’ve got that right. If by some miracle, at any point in my life I would decide I wanted a meaningful relationship with a man, I’d expect monogamy. I’d far rather be alone than just have a male body in my life who wasn’t committed to me body, heart and soul.”
“Apparently Tara Tanner has an addiction to bad boys, if she’s moved on from Jimmy to Jeff,” Jackson replied.
“We’re about to find out,” Marjorie replied as she pulled into the driveway of a neat ranch house.
Together they got out of the car and approached the front door. Remembering Roger’s warning about Tara being a firecracker, and the fact that it was possible Tara had hired men to beat up Jimmy, Marjorie made sure her gun was easily accessible, if needed.
Jackson knocked on the door and they waited. When there was no reply, he knocked again, harder this time. “Hold your damn horses,” a husky female voice called from inside the house.
The door flew open to reveal a bleached blonde wrapped in a red silk robe that had several cigarette burns down the front. The air that wafted out of the door smelled of stale smoke and booze and dirty clothes.
“Yeah? What do you want?” Tara pulled a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of her robe, lit up and blew smoke at both of them.
“We’re here to talk to Jeff,” Jackson said.
Tara frowned in fake confusion. “Jeff who?”
“Are we really going to play that game?” Marjorie asked dryly.
A tall shadow appeared behind Tara, and as he came into view he gave them a guilty smile. “Hey,” Jeff said.
“We need to talk to you,” Marjorie said.
“I figured as much.”
Tara stepped back with a shrug of her shoulders, and Jeff gestured them into the semidark living room. Marjorie and Jackson stood just inside the door, looking at the bartender who was dressed only in a pair of plaid boxers and a stained white T-shirt. He wore bed-head badly, and it was obvious they had awakened them.
“Tara, put some coffee on,” he said, and she scurried out of the living room.
“None for us,” Marjorie replied. She wasn’t about to put her mouth on anything that came from this house.
“It’s for me,” Jeff replied. “We went on a little bender last night and I have a headache from hell. So, guess you’re here about the poker party on the night that Cole and his wife disappeared.”
“Your alibi sucks, buddy,” Jackson said. “Your friends say you never showed up that night. You didn’t even call them to say you weren’t coming.”
Jeff raked a hand through his hair, making his bed-head even worse. “Yeah, well, I hooked up with Tara that night and I couldn’t exactly call Jimmy and tell him I was boffing his ex-wife. That was the first night Tara and I hooked up, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Tara came back into the room. “He’s telling the truth.”
“And we should believe a woman who has been hiring thugs to beat up her ex-husband?” Marjorie said.
Tara’s cheeks grew dusky with color. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She averted her gaze to the wall.
“I think you do, and we could take you in right now and have you arrested for conspiracy to commit bodily harm or even attempted murder.” Marjorie glared at the woman.
Tara’s gaze shot back to Marjorie. She folded her arms across her chest, a mutinous expression on her face. “Okay, so maybe I wanted Jimmy to get banged up a little for all the hurt he caused me over the years, but I didn’t want him hurt too bad.”
Jeff looked at her with stunned surprise. “You actually hired people to beat up Jimmy?”
“It doesn’t matter what I did, I’m telling the truth when I say that Jeff was with me on the night that the sheriff and his wife disappeared,” Tara said.
She took a deep drag of her cigarette, ignoring the ashes that fell on her ample breasts. “Besides, no offense, but Jeff is too much of a dumb ass to pull off the kidnapping of two people. He couldn’t even figure out that it was smart to tell the truth about where he was that night.”
“Hey,” Jeff said in protest. “I’m not a dumb ass.”
Yeah, he was, Marjorie thought and there was no way in hell she’d believe that he had anything to do with whatever had happened at Cole’s house almost two weeks ago.
She looked at Jackson. “I think we’re done here.”
He nodded and inched toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to escape the confines of the house. “If we have more questions we’ll be in touch. Make sure you both are available,” he said.
“Whew, I couldn’t wait to get out of there,” Jackson said once they were back in the car.
“Did you see the look on Jeff’s face when he found out that Tara had hired people to beat up Jimmy?” She laughed. “I don’t see a happy ending for Jeff with Tara.” Her laughter lasted only a moment and then she sobered. “I also don’t think Jeff had anything to do with Cole and Amberly’s disappearance. I think we need to take him off our short list of suspects.”
A
wave of discouragement swept through her. Their list of suspects was dismally small for the length of time they’d been working the case.
For the first time since she’d been handed the case she began to wonder if they’d find the answer they sought, or if this would wind up being like what Jackson had been working on in Bachelor Moon...an unsolved case with collateral damage in the teary eyes of a young child.
Chapter Eight
After leaving Tara’s house, Maggie parked her car on the street in front of a business that sold knickknacks and trinkets, and they took off walking.
The heat was unrelenting, the humidity like a sauna, and Jackson wasn’t sure what he hoped would happen as they interacted with some of the people of the small town, but he knew with certainty that the investigation was in trouble.
Cell phones had yielded no clues; the bank accounts and credit card activity had remained untouched. It was as if Cole Caldwell and his wife had been levitated into an awaiting spaceship. Just like Sam and Daniella and Macy from Bachelor Moon. He shook his head to dispel the thought.
It was important they continue to work this case by itself until the time came that they either found some answers or had to reach the horrible conclusion that somehow, someway, the Bachelor Moon crime and this one were related.
He shouldn’t be confused by attempting to combine the two cases together even though so far they had only one person who had motive for getting rid of Amberly—and that was her ex-husband.
At the moment he was attempting to focus on the chicken fried steak dinner in front of him. He and Maggie had ducked into the diner twenty minutes ago for a late lunch.
Maggie picked at her salad as if without appetite, and he knew the lack of forward motion in the case was affecting her, as well.
“Don’t look so depressed,” he told her.
She looked up and offered him a small smile. “I just can’t get Max’s little face out of my head.”
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