by Stacy Green
“He never returned?” Nick said.
“Nope.”
Jaymee leveled a glare at the detective. “You’re here because my father thinks I did something to him.”
Charles toed the colorful rug with his faded loafer. “You certainly have motive, Jaymee.”
“But not the means,” Nick said. “She worked most of the day. And she’s a 130-pound female without a vehicle. What’s she going to do with Holden? Stick him in the diner’s freezer?”
“She’s got you to help her,” Charles said. “And Cage. Both of you looked ready to kill Holden this morning. Most of the station saw that.”
Nick’s lips curved into a condescending smile. “Cage was working. And most of the town’s been pointing and whispering at me all day. Hard for the center of attention to kidnap someone.”
Charles sighed. “No shit. I don’t think either one of you did anything. You’re too smart for that. But Holden said he was going to try to talk some sense into Jaymee, and he hasn’t been seen since. He’s not answering his phone. All his stuff’s still at your parents. He didn’t just leave town.”
“He never showed up at the diner,” Jaymee said.
“Where’d you go between shifts?”
“Lorelai and Oren’s. Needed to take care of my dog.”
“Can either one of them corroborate that?”
“Lorelai,” Jaymee said. “She was working outside, but I spoke to her.” She’d wanted to tell her about Sarah. The town gossip would reach her ears soon enough, and Lorelai would be heartbroken. Like a coward, Jaymee had hid inside with Mutt.
“And you?” Charles looked at Nick. “What’d you do this afternoon?”
“Paid Royce Newton a little visit.”
“Great. Anything else?”
Nick glanced at Jaymee and then turned his gaze to the fireplace. The heavy wooden mantel was decorated with fragile china dolls. They stared across the room like arrogant sentinels, and their dark, unseeing eyes gave Nick the creeps.
“Went to Lana’s grave.” Nick admitted. “Sat with her for a while. Then back here and started researching L.J. Clark. Was there until I went to the diner and ate.”
“Can Annabelle account for your time?” Charles asked.
“Don’t know.” He folded his arms, resting his elbows on his knees. “Holden hasn’t even been missing for twenty-four hours, so the case can’t be filed yet.”
“No,” Charles said. “But Paul Ballard’s already tossing out the accusations. I’m just trying to get ahead of them. Paul claims it’s not like him to not answer his cell. The wife back in Jackson hasn’t heard from him.”
Charles wiped his face with a handkerchief and looked at Jaymee. “Holden don’t show up by morning, your daddy’s going to be out for blood. You didn’t have the physical means, but you got the brawn right here.” He pointed to Nick. “That’s what your father’s going to say. And after what happened in the station, people are going to eat it up.”
“It’s not true,” Nick said.
“I know that. But this ain’t some jockstrap from Poorville,” Charles said. “This is damned Holden Wilcher, favorite son. Girl who’s known for causing trouble with her family admitted to pulling a knife on him yesterday and made wild accusations today. Got you and Cage in her pocket. Who you think’s going to sound more believable?”
“My father’s a suspect in three murders,” Jaymee said. “Or have you cleared him?”
“No, I haven’t. Far as I’m concerned, he’s suspect number one. Meets the profile. He mighta even done something to his buddy Wilcher.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, they’re close, right? Paul never knew Wilcher was the father of your baby, so it was easy to paint you as the bad guy. Wilcher’s his buddy, helps keep the family name clean. Then all these years later, you come along with your side of the story. Maybe your dad wonders. He knows Wilcher well enough to know if he likes younger girls. Maybe he’s seen him prowling. Hell, maybe they prowl together.”
“So what?”
“So Paul Ballard’s in the hot seat with these murders–murders he might have committed for Wilcher–all the while not knowing about his betrayal with Jaymee. Then Paul finds out Wilcher poked his daughter and got your family into the jam to begin with? That’s enough to make a man snap on his best friend.”
“You forget one thing,” Jaymee said. “My father hated me. He never would have hurt Holden over me.”
“Family’s a funny thing,” Charles said. “I’ve seen a man who used his son for a punching bag turn round and shoot the guy who tried to jack up the same son. No matter how shitty family is, blood’s always going to be thicker than water.”
“He’s got a point,” Nick said. “Last summer, a prostitute in Jackson was murdered. She and her mother hated each other. Daughter stole from the mom, mom threw her out. Same old story. But after the girl was killed, mom went nuts. Took a nine millimeter and shot the guy she thought killed her daughter.”
“She get the right guy?” Charles asked.
“No. Now she’s in prison for life and her daughter’s killer is free.”
“Proves my point,” Charles said. “I just got to make the brass see it. Chief was already pissed about the scene you caused earlier, Jaymee. He’s a buddy of your dad’s and don’t like the way things are going. This sure as hell ain’t going to help.”
“Paul wouldn’t get into trouble for me,” Jaymee insisted. “For himself or Wilcher? Definitely. If he did something to Wilcher–and that’s a big if–it’s because he felt used and humiliated, not because he was protecting my honor.”
“Maybe,” Charles said. “Right now, you need to go back to the Foster’s house. Lay low. Nick, you stay here. If Holden ain’t back by morning, I’m going to have the brass on my balls. You two are going to be the first suspects. Your car will probably be checked out for forensic evidence.”
“Fine,” Nick said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
A headache bloomed in Jaymee’s temple. She touched her fingers to Nick’s arm, hoping he understood her disappointment. She’d wanted nothing more than to spend another night with him and block out the rest of the world.
“I’ll take you back to the Foster’s,” Nick said. “Better get a hold of Cage, too.”
Detective Charles told Annabelle goodnight, thanking her for her hospitality. Jaymee couldn’t look at the old woman. She’d no doubt be on the phone to her friends as soon as Charles stepped off the front porch.
The once-pleasant night was an ugly black now. Clouds had moved in to block out the stars, leaving only the street lamps for light. A few crickets chirped, but Jaymee barely heard them over the smothering silence. Nick’s hand on her back no longer held the promise of excitement. He guided her protectively, his arm tense. He ground his teeth again, and the sound echoed loudly in Jaymee’s head.
“You’ll keep us posted?” Nick requested as Charles headed toward his car.
“Yeah. Hopefully he shows–” Headlights bore down on them, followed by the hot squeal of tires coming to an abrupt stop.
“Aw, shit.”
Paul and Sonia Ballard rushed out of a late-model SUV. Sonia lagged behind, but Paul sprinted up the brick sidewalk like a freight train. Jaymee stopped and braced herself for impact. Nick’s hand fisted against her back.
“Where’s Holden?” Paul pointed at Jaymee. “You did something to him, you conniving, heartless, tramp.”
Skirting around Paul, Sonia startled Jaymee mute when she came to stand beside her. She stared into her mother’s eyes, watching them flash with pity and pain, and then reached for Sonia’s hand. She should have fought harder for Sonia, tried to visit more, begged her to leave. She never should have given up on her mother.
“I didn’t do anything to him, Mom.”
Sonia eyes filled with tears. She cast a frightened eye at her husband before running her free hand through Jaymee’s hair. “I believe you.”
“Sonia.” Ballard’s voice r
eeked with the threat of punishment. “Don’t.”
Sonia started to shake, but she didn’t move. With a sickened heart, Jaymee knew her mother would pay the price later.
“I told the truth about Holden.”
Sonia closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. Paul started shouting again. “Why isn’t she being arrested? The girl pulled a knife on him last night, and now he’s missing. Take her in.”
“Ain’t that simple,” Charles said. “First off, Wilcher’s an adult. We can’t just declare him missing after a few hours. Second, Jaymee’s got an alibi. Third, I have other suspects. In fact, I was just coming to talk to you, Mr. Ballard.”
“Me? You’re not seriously considering I had something to do with this, are you?”
“Need to rule everyone out. Why don’t you and I talk over here? Your wife can wait with Jaymee and Nick.”
Paul threw Jaymee a rage-filled glance. She knew the last thing he wanted to do was leave Sonia alone with them, but Charles didn’t give him any choice. The blowhard was a lot less blustery without his backup.
Sonia looked around furtively, twisting around to glance over her shoulder and then into the shadows. “Listen to me,” she hissed. “Your father won’t give me much time. I’m so sorry, Jaymee. I always suspected Holden was too close to you, and when you got pregnant, I just knew. I tried to tell your father, but he did what he always does.”
“He beat you. Like he did today.” Jaymee saw the red welt peeking out from her mother’s high collar. Cruel bastard.
“That I could handle. He threatened you. Held you against me. I was afraid of what he’d do.”
“Why? What did I do to him that was so awful?”
“Nothing. You never did anything. It was all me. All me.” She checked to make sure Paul was still occupied by Detective Charles. “Last night, after you left, your father was so angry. He drank until he passed out. That’s when I confronted Holden.”
“He kept denying it, but I wouldn’t give in. I know you, Jaymee. I may have been a ghost when you were growing up, but I was always there.”
Jaymee’s lungs swelled; her throat constricted. She wanted to throw her arms around her mother and never let go–to protect her from Paul as Sonia had done for her. “Mom–”
Sonia shook her head, putting a finger over Jaymee’s lips. “Shh. I know.” Her gazed darted to Paul once more. “No time. I demanded Holden tell me the truth, promised I’d be quiet.”
“Did he admit it?”
“No. But he didn’t see the sleeping pills I dropped in his glass. When he passed out, I dug through his things. His cell phone, wallet, briefcase. I found something.”
Paul started shouting at Detective Charles. Sonia jumped. She jammed a hand into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a rumpled business card. “I don’t know if this will help you or not, but take it. And do whatever you can to find your daughter and prove what an awful person Holden Wilcher is.”
Jaymee took the card. “He’s coming.”
“I’m so sorry for not being there,” Sonia said. “Sorry for not stopping any of this.”
“I know,” Jaymee said. “Please, come home with me. Don’t go back with him. You know what’s going to happen.”
“I’ll be fine. You do whatever you need to, and let me handle Paul.”
Her father grabbed Sonia’s upper arm. “We’re leaving.” He looked down at Jaymee with a rage that turned her blood to ice. “And you. You’ll pay for what you’ve caused.”
“Ballard, listen hard. I’m going send an officer to check on Sonia later tonight, and in the morning. She has one bruise on her–one that isn’t yellowed from your earlier beating, that is–and I’ll haul you in on domestic.” Charles hard tone amplified his threat. “I’m done hearing about this woman’s suffering.”
Paul sneered, dropping Sonia’s arm. She dutifully followed him to the truck.
Jaymee shook, and Nick pulled her close. “It’s all right. He’s gone.”
“It’s not that.”
“Your mother stood up for you,” Nick said. “God, she’s going to get a beating tonight.”
“Not if I can help it,” Charles said. “I’m sending a patrol to circle every half hour. Maybe between the talk we just had and the uniforms, he’ll keep his hands to himself.”
Nick touched Jaymee’s fisted hand. “What’s on the card?”
Slowly, Jaymee unfurled her fist. “Our last chance.”
Debra R. Davies, Attorney at Law.
23
“Attorney at law.” Sitting in Nick’s car, Jaymee read the words aloud for the third time. “She told me she was a social worker. Her card said social worker. I remember that.”
“She’s pulling double duty,” Nick said. “You never met the attorney, right? You just let her handle it?”
Jaymee nodded. “And Holden. He said he’d met the attorney, along with Paul.” Jaymee wanted to slam her head against Nick’s dashboard. “I just let them tell me what to do.”
“You trusted them.”
“I should have known better.”
“We could all say that about a hundred things in life. Kicking yourself in the ass about the past isn’t going to change it.”
“I could say the same to you.”
Nick raised his eyebrows, mouth set in a wan smile. “You going to call her, or am I?”
Shaking with anticipation and shock, Jaymee tapped the numbers into Nick’s cell phone. Four rings, all loud in her ear. What would she say if Debra Davies answered? That she knew her scheme and planned on bringing her down?
Voicemail. She recognized the sweet, lilting voice immediately. Debra R. Davies identified herself as an attorney who specialized in private adoptions. Jaymee didn’t leave a message. “Now what?”
“Plan B. We’ve always known Davies had an unlisted number. So the one you just called is listed to someone else or is her public number,” Nick said. “It’s a stupid mistake, but she’s gotten away with this scheme for a long time. She may just be cocky enough to list this number to her real identity.”
“That’s a pretty stupid mistake.”
“Like I said, let’s hope she’s cocky enough to screw up,” Nick said. “I know a guy in Jackson, works for the phone company. I’ll call him tonight.”
He rubbed Jaymee’s knee, spreading warmth over her skin. “I’m going back into the city tomorrow. I’ll find Elaine, confront her with this card. Maybe it’ll be enough to get her to talk.”
“How are you going to find her?” Jaymee wanted to curl up in his arms and hide. If Holden hadn’t turned up by tomorrow morning, she’d have to face the accusations of Paul, not to mention the judgment of the rest of the town.
“She’s a government employee. I can track her down,” Nick said. “You shouldn’t leave town right now.”
“I know,” she said. “I can’t miss work again, anyway.” She didn’t want Nick to leave. Her life was in a perpetual state of turmoil, and his presence was the only thing keeping Jaymee anchored.
“We should get you back.”
“It’s time to tell Oren and Lorelai everything.”
“You sure?” Nick reached for her hand. His strong fingers closed around hers.
“No. But I’ve got to,” Jaymee said. “I just hope they don’t hate me.”
By the time they arrived at the Foster’s home, doubt weakened Jaymee’s resolve. Oren and Lorelai had been so good to her over the years–a type of surrogate family. And she’d kept a dreadful secret, one that had probably gotten their daughter killed. She couldn’t blame them if they hated her forever.
She walked up the sidewalk, her stomach heavy as though she’d swallowed a bag of rocks. Nick stayed behind her. He was close enough for her to feel his presence, and she wanted to lean against him for support.
Cage arrived at the same time they pulled up. He got out of his car, took one look at Nick and Jaymee huddled closely, and stalked into the house.
“Give him some time,” Nick said
as they walked to the front door.
“I know. But I don’t even know what’s happening between us.” Jaymee yearned to take his hand, but Lana’s childhood home seemed to cast a reproachful eye over her, accusations streaming from its brightly lit windows.
“Do you want it to stop?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Inside, Lorelai bustled around the kitchen making iced tea as if the traditional southern beverage could solve life’s current problems. “I’ve heard terrible things today, Jaymee. Our neighbor called and told me…” Lorelai dropped her dishtowel. She didn’t move to pick it up and just stared at Jaymee, as if waiting to hear it was all some sort of twisted joke.
When Jaymee didn’t deny it, Lorelai sank into the chair. “You could have told me about Wilcher. About your…pregnancy.”
“I didn’t know how.”
Oren chewed on a piece of black licorice, quietly waiting. Jaymee sat down across from him, well aware of the man’s sharp eyes studying her face.
Jaymee swallowed hard, caught in the old man’s gaze. Oren raised an eyebrow in challenge, but his eyes were benign. No, not benign. Curious. Impatient.
“You knew,” Jaymee choked. The words dangled between them. Everyone else in the small kitchen fell silent. Jaymee’s foot jerked beneath the table, her leg unable to remain still.
“I did.”
“For how long?”
“Since after you told off your daddy in church and ran off to Lana in Jackson. She called me asking what she should do.”
“Oren.” Lorelai stared at her husband. “You never told me any of this.”
“Lana didn’t want me to.”
Jaymee’s hand dropped to the table. The smack echoed throughout the kitchen. “She what? She promised she wouldn’t tell.”
“She didn’t want to. But she didn’t know what else to do,” Oren said. “I told her to follow her gut. Use her connections in the system. Then I said I’d take care of Wilcher myself, but she made me swear I’d keep silent. You know how hard it’s been for me, ‘specially when you decided to come back? Why the hell didn’t you stay in Jackson?”