His Touch

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “I know, but I still needed to check back, especially since it’s getting dark.”

  “No, you didn’t. You should’ve stayed with Thurmon until your son was found. That’s more important than baby-sitting me.”

  “You’re both important. And if something happened to you—”

  Though he left the sentence unfinished, she knew what he was about to say.

  “I wouldn’t blame you.”

  He gave her a bitter smile. “You wouldn’t have to. I’d blame myself.”

  “God, you’re stubborn.”

  Brant raised his eyebrows. “You’re calling me stubborn?”

  Jessica let go of a weary sigh. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “It’s not that simple, so don’t try and make it that way.”

  Brant stared at her for a moment longer, his dark eyes unreadable. Jessica rubbed a tender spot at her temple. Another mess. One she prayed would end much quicker than hers.

  Since Brant had come into her office and told her his son was missing, she had canceled the remainder of her appointments for the day, despite his objections. Then she’d picked up the phone and called the acting chief, giving him the go ahead to search for Elliot.

  Brant, of course, had called Thurmon, who’d joined the search. So far, there had been no sign of Elliot. None of his friends seemed to know his whereabouts, either, which made the situation more puzzling and harrowing.

  They had finally left the office and returned to her town home. Once the female security guard arrived, Brant had joined Thurmon. And she had waited. The hours had dragged, at least for her, though Brant had thoughtfully kept her briefed by phone.

  Since his return, he’d been on the phone, constantly in touch with both his ex-wife and Thurmon. But neither Thurmon and his crew nor the detectives had anything to show for their endeavors.

  She had prepared dinner for herself and Brant, though neither one of them had eaten enough to justify her efforts. But she couldn’t just do nothing. She hadn’t wanted to leave Brant to go through this trauma alone, though she was sure he would rather do just that.

  Gazing at him now, she saw that his features were tight and unyielding. She shuddered to think of Elliot’s fate when he was found, though she hoped Brant would be as gentle as possible under the circumstances.

  So as not to give him more reason to worry, she had pretended to stay busy, having brought a pile of work home with her. She’d perused Tony’s agenda for the still-pending budget retreat, along with the latest information on a proposed interstate, but her mind hadn’t been focused.

  For a while she’d even worked on her speech for the women’s conference in Lugano, Switzerland, since she’d just received her agenda. She hadn’t as yet taken Brant into her confidence about it. No matter. He wouldn’t be going with her. There was no need. She would be safe out of the country. Once she was on the plane, he could have his life back, at least for a few days, and hopefully spend some quality time with his son.

  If he was found.

  The thought that he wouldn’t be didn’t bear contemplating. Yet she couldn’t stamp out the crazy notion that if something dangerous had befallen Elliot, it was because of her. What if he’d been kidnapped as a pawn to get back at her for hiring Brant? More bizarre things had happened, she reminded herself.

  Suddenly Jessica rubbed her arms, feeling as though her skin was crawling.

  As if sensing her distress, Brant whipped around, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to worry about this. You have enough on your plate as it is.”

  “Well, I’m worried.”

  “I know we’ll find him and that he’ll be okay.”

  “I know that, too.” Jessica frowned. “Still—” She broke off, having no intention of divulging her cockamamie idea.

  “What?” Brant demanded, quick on the uptake.

  “Nothing.”

  “Jessica, let’s have it,” he pressed in a gritty voice.

  She knew he wouldn’t let her be until she confided in him. “Do you think his disappearance could have anything to do with me?”

  Brant’s look was incredulous. “Why would you think that?”

  She conveyed her fears.

  His features immediately softened. “Hey, trust me, Elliot’s little stunt is to get back at his mother for not letting him work. And me for coming back into his life. He’s one mixed-up kid right now.”

  “So you really think that’s what this is all about?”

  “Absolutely. He’s pushing the envelope to the limit, so to speak.”

  “But where is he?” Jessica ached for him, sensing that underneath his calm demeanor was a man in agony. How could he not be? But he would never let on. He was that kind of man. “If you weren’t tied down, you—”

  “Don’t,” he cut in. “If Elliot’s not found soon, I’ll leave you with my replacement. But for the moment, Thurmon’s in charge.”

  “Don’t forget about the detectives. They’re also in the hunt.”

  “Which I appreciate,” he said, his gaze softening on her.

  Color flooded her face as she went limp inside. God, this man had some kind of hold on her. It was mind-boggling. “I know you do,” she murmured into the sudden and awkward silence.

  If only she could comfort him. She wanted to put her arms around him, assure him that his son would be found soon and that he was all right. But she had no reassurance of either. Besides, he wouldn’t take too kindly to her sympathy.

  In so many ways they remained far apart. Even though their bodies had connected in hot passion, their minds had never connected on any level.

  “Did you hear from the pervert today?” Brant asked, facing her again, his eyes hooded.

  “Not so far, thank goodness.”

  “The day’s not over,” Brant pointed out cynically.

  “I keep thinking he’ll get tired and give up. After all, it’s been two weeks, and I haven’t changed my position on either of the hot issues.”

  “After that building incident, he’s not giving up.” Brant’s tone was hard again. “Count on it. He’s just biding his time, waiting for another opportunity.”

  “I can’t understand why he’s doing this, what he hopes to accomplish. I’m not going to change my mind. Surely he’s figured that out by now.”

  “Whoever’s behind this is either demented or so desperate that he’s lost all reasoning power.”

  “I still don’t think Roy or Curtis is responsible. Or the cops, either, for that matter.”

  “Well, I’m still not ruling anyone out,” Brant said flatly. “But it could be someone off the street, someone you’ve never laid eyes on, who has an ax to grind for whatever reason.”

  “So the beat goes on,” Jessica responded bleakly.

  “Until the bastard’s behind bars.”

  “With me leaving the country, maybe—”

  “What did you say?”

  His tone was as cutting as his eyes.

  She stiffened, resenting his reaction. “I haven’t told you, but I’ve been asked to speak at a women’s mayoral conference in Switzerland the week after next.” Before he could respond, she gave him the particulars.

  “Don’t you think you should’ve discussed that with me?” Brant’s anger was obvious.

  She was taken aback. “No, since you’re not going.”

  He laughed with dark humor. “Oh, yes I am. Where you go, I go.”

  “That’s crazy. Once I leave the city, I won’t be in any danger.”

  “You know that for sure?”

  Under his logical scrutiny, her confidence wavered. “As sure as one can ever be about anything,” she lashed back impatiently, sensing that her opportunity to put some much-needed distance between them was in jeopardy.

  “Which translates into no.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  Another silence fell over the room as their eyes clashed and held.

  “Look, we’ll discu
ss this another time, okay?” she said, averting her gaze.

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  Jessica bit back a scathing retort because of the present situation. If Elliot hadn’t been missing, she would have taken their argument to closure, since she was in no doubt that she would come out the winner. But he didn’t need to be distracted by something so trivial as her travel agenda, certainly not when even his best efforts would not override her determination.

  Some things were nonnegotiable, and this was one of them.

  “I think I’ll go up and call Veronica,” she said, hoping to diffuse the antagonistic environment.

  A nod was his only response.

  Once upstairs, in the sanctity of her own room, Jessica breathed without restriction, realizing how tense and uptight she was in Brant’s presence. The fact that she saw no end in sight to his presence or her situation depressed her. But only for a moment. Things could be worse, she reminded herself, forcing her spirits to lift.

  And a dose of Veronica could cheer her up when nothing else could.

  “I’m so glad you called,” Veronica said. “I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

  “You could’ve called me,” Jessica replied, pointing out the obvious.

  “Hey, I figured you were behind closed doors tending to business.”

  “Actually, I’m at home. With Brant.”

  Veronica didn’t try to disguise her astonishment. “I thought he was with Thurmon, that Sue was—”

  “She was,” Jessica interrupted. “But Brant’s with me now, although I’m sure Sue’s still around.”

  “I see.”

  Veronica didn’t see, but she wasn’t about to give her friend any room for speculation. “Brant won’t be around for much longer. He just wanted to check on things here.”

  “I’m just holding my breath the kid’s all right, that he hasn’t gone and done something stupid.”

  “Like what?” Jessica asked, her fear mounting. After all, Veronica knew Elliot a lot better than she did. Having met him only once, she couldn’t make any kind of judgment call. Still, she’d liked him on the spot and knew it would be tragic if he had gotten into trouble with drugs or whatever else kids got into these days.

  “Drugs are the worst case scenario, of course,” Veronica said, “but there are other things I refuse to dwell on. I just feel sorry for Brant. I’m sure Marsha is giving him bloody hell over this.”

  “He hasn’t confided in me about that, of course, but from what I do know, I think you’re right.”

  “She’s a first-class bitch.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “I can understand why Brant never wanted to go home. She’s one of those whiny, clingy types who wants a man who’ll cater to her every whim.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Anyway, he’s rid of her now.”

  “Not really,” Jessica pointed out. “Elliot will always link them.”

  “You’re right, which makes it a blessing that Brant has no interest in remarrying.”

  For a reason Jessica wouldn’t care to explore, she found that flat statement disconcerting. She couldn’t care less about Brant’s personal life now or later. When he walked out of her life at the end of this madness, she would never see him again. That was the way she wanted it, the way it had to be, regardless of the sizzling desire that had fused their bodies in mindless passion.

  Shifting her thoughts, Jessica said in a slightly breathless tone, “I just wished this hadn’t happened, especially when he’s tied to me.”

  “The kid will turn up.”

  “It’s just that I feel so helpless. I wish he’d forget about me.”

  “After that block of cement nearly hit you, just be glad that he’s taking his job so seriously.”

  Too seriously, Jessica was tempted to say, only she didn’t. Now was not the time to unload any more problems on Veronica. Besides, she still wanted to keep her private life private.

  “Oops, gotta run. The niece and nephew are staying with me, and they’re at it again.”

  Jessica chuckled. “Give Jeff and Jennifer a hug for me.”

  “Hug, my foot. If they don’t stop tormenting each other, I’m going to tan their little backsides.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jessica said with another chuckle. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once the conversation ended, so did her good humor. Thinking perhaps Brant might have heard something, she made her way back downstairs. She had just stepped into the living area when the doorbell rang. Freezing, she stared at Brant, who was already in motion, heading toward the door.

  Jessica followed him, her heart in her throat, afraid to speculate as to who was standing on the other side. If it was Curtis or Roy, she wouldn’t let him in. A worst case scenario was that it was Thurmon or the detectives with bad news. Stop thinking negative thoughts, she told herself. It took no more effort to think on the positive side.

  Brant looked through the peephole, then made an unrecognizable sound, as if he was strangling. He jerked open the door while Jessica held her breath.

  Elliot was standing on the porch.

  Twenty-seven

  For several moments no one moved, no one spoke. It was as if all three of them were frozen in some kind of time warp.

  “Son,” Brant finally said, sounding like he’d just gotten over a siege of laryngitis. He didn’t know whether to grab Elliot and hug him, or shake him. Right now, he ached to do both.

  Instead he cleared his throat, then stepped aside, making a motioning gesture with his hand. “Come on in.”

  Jessica was standing adjacent to him, her eyes wide with shock. No more shocked than he was, Brant thought. The last place he would have expected his son to turn up was on Jessica’s doorstep. He hadn’t even known Elliot knew where she lived. But that minor detail wasn’t important. He was here and safe, and that was all that counted.

  “Is this okay with you?” Brant asked in a low tone, seeking Jessica’s eyes and holding them.

  “Of course,” she all but snapped, as though insulted he felt the need to ask.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, then focused his attention back on his son, who was hovering inside the door, his hands crammed into the pockets of his jeans, looking terribly uncomfortable. And guilty.

  However, Brant had no intention of lambasting Elliot for this antic, at least not in front of Jessica. Maybe not period. A kid that left home, for whatever reason, had problems. He needed counseling, not condemnation, at least not from him, an absentee father who was trying to rehabilitate their relationship.

  Still, he had made both Brant and his mother frantic, and he couldn’t be allowed to totally get away with his conduct. He was old enough and responsible enough to be held accountable for his actions.

  “Elliot, why don’t you sit down,” Jessica suggested in a tentative voice, destroying the silence, “while I get you something to drink.”

  “Thanks,” Elliot mumbled, pawing the carpet with the end of his big Nike, still not looking at Brant.

  “What would you like? Coke or iced tea?” Jessica asked, that tentativeness still in her voice.

  “Uh, Coke’s okay.”

  Without saying anything else, Jessica made her way toward the kitchen. Once she was gone, Brant said, “Sit down, Elliot. I’m not going to chew you up and spit you out.”

  Elliot’s head came up, a relieved look on his face.

  “At least not just yet,” Brant added.

  The boy’s relief visibly and quickly dissolved. “Mom’s pissed, isn’t she?”

  Brant ignored his choice of verbs and said, “What do you think?”

  “She’s pissed.” Elliot remained standing, angling his head. “You are, too, right?”

  “Let’s say we were more concerned than anything else.” Brant paused, expelling a breath, feeling like he was walking on bloody eggshells and hating every minute of it. He wished he had better parenting skills, that he knew how to handle this volatile situation without
making matters worse.

  “Mom wouldn’t let me work,” Elliot muttered as he slumped into the chair, a sullen look falling over his thin features.

  “That’s no reason to scare her to death.”

  “I know.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “At Kyle’s parents’ cabin.”

  Brant had no idea where that was, but it didn’t matter. “Did Kyle take you?”

  Elliot nodded.

  “Did his parents know?”

  “I’m sure Kyle didn’t tell them,” Elliot said, “but they wouldn’t have cared.”

  “Oh, I bet they would have if they had known the circumstances.”

  “Uh, right,” Elliot muttered, lowering his head.

  Brant wished he’d been the one who had talked to Kyle. Thurmon had done that, while he’d checked with some of Elliot’s other friends whose names and addresses Marsha had given him.

  Jessica chose that moment to walk in with a tray holding two glasses of Coke, a small plate of sandwiches, and cookies.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” she said by way of explanation.

  Brant felt awful, feeling he was imposing on her. He shot her a grateful look, then said to Elliot, “What do you say?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  “Are you hungry?” Jessica asked.

  “Sorta.”

  “Good.”

  She didn’t sit down. Instead, Brant felt her gaze on him. He met those lovely, expressive eyes, losing himself in them for a second, before shaking himself and returning to the real world.

  “Look, I’ll go to my room and let you two work this out alone.”

  “Don’t go,” Brant said impulsively, knowing his eyes were pleading as they remained on hers.

  He had clearly put her on the spot, he could tell by the slight frown drawing her brows together. “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Please.” He didn’t want to appear as though he were begging, but he thought maybe her presence would keep him from doing something, saying something, to further alienate his kid.

  He had no idea why Elliot had chosen to come to him. But he was both delighted and suspicious, and he refused to let Elliot play him and Marsha against each other.