Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte)

by Janice Kay Johnson - Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte)

  Drew’s expression told her he now got it. “But what can we do?” he asked, sounding helpless.

  “An appeal for help.” She’d thought about it earlier, but hadn’t seen then that it would make a difference. Now it might. “We could even offer a reward.”

  “Where am I supposed to get the money?” Bitterness tinged his voice.

  “I have savings. It doesn’t have to be huge to draw attention. If we’re lucky, someone else—maybe Stillwell—will chip in. In fact, I could call and ask him.”

  “You think the guy would give more, when he’s already been funding my family?” More of that bitterness.

  “It would be good PR for him.” She hesitated. “Let me talk to Clay first. Then I’ll make some calls, try to set it up. If you’re willing.”

  “Of course I am.” Anguish made his words guttural. “You might have to tell me what to say.”

  “All right.” She laid her hand over his, then was sorry when he grabbed on and held tight, as if she was his lifeline. Before Clay, it had never occurred to her Drew was feeling any sexual interest in her. She still wasn’t sure she believed it, since he hadn’t been all that excited about her even before she introduced him to her sister. In retrospect, she’d been glad. If she’d had sex with him, adjusting to him as a brother-in-law would have been a whole lot more awkward. She glanced at the clock. “I’ll call Clay right now,” she said, using it as an excuse to draw her hand away.

  He nodded and watched as she reached for her phone. She’d have rather talked without Drew eavesdropping, but didn’t see how she could gracefully excuse herself.

  Clay answered right away, and listened as she explained what she wanted to do.

  “I was going to suggest it in another day or two,” he said. “We’ve got to keep interest stirred.”

  “What would you think of me going to Mr. Stillwell and asking if he’d match what I can afford to offer as a reward?”

  He was quiet for a minute. “You know he won’t be able to turn you down,” he said at last, restraint in his voice.

  “Is it a bad idea?”

  “No.” He was thinking it through, she could tell. “You said you’d met him.”

  “Yes, in passing.”

  “I don’t see how it can hurt. You don’t have to tell him you know about the loans to your sister. In fact, your asking might reassure him you don’t know about those payments.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go for it,” he decided. “Do you want me to set up a press conference?”

  Her relief surprised her. She’d done it often enough before, just not with herself as the focus.

  “If you don’t mind,” she said. “But why don’t you wait until I try to talk to Stillwell?”

  “Call me back,” Clay said.

  She was put right through to Lissa’s boss. Her plea wasn’t as eloquent as she’d have liked to have made it, but she had no sooner finished than he said, “Of course I will. I’m ashamed I didn’t think of offering a reward sooner. I suspect I can afford it better than you can. Keep your ten thousand, Lieutenant Vahalik. Let me offer the entire twenty. Or more, if you think a larger amount will make a difference.”

  “No.” Her every instinct revolted. Maybe because she shared some of Clay’s suspicion of this man? What if the reward was all for show, and really he knew exactly where Bree was? No, she told herself; what could possibly have motivated him? Still, she wanted to do this herself. For the sister she’d raised. “Let’s keep it as a match. I...need to feel as if I’m doing something to help.” She made no effort to prevent the hitch in her voice.

  “I understand.” He sounded sympathetic. “However you want to handle it. If there’s anything else I can do...”

  “I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll let you know if that changes. Thank you, Mr. Stillwell. This is generous of you.”

  “It’s nothing.” He sounded almost brusque, as if he didn’t want thanks. “I have a granddaughter, you know.”

  “Yes. I met her.” She thanked him again, whether he wanted it or not, and then, still under Drew’s gaze, called Clay back. He promised to let her know as soon as he’d set a time and place for the press conference.

  “What kind of vibe did you get from Stillwell?” he asked.

  “Nothing off. He seemed genuinely concerned and was kind.”

  She was beginning to be able to interpret Clay’s grunts. This one said, Maybe.

  Half an hour later, he got back to her. 1:00 p.m. in front of the sheriff’s department headquarters. “I thought about staging it where your sister went off the road, but that might look like grandstanding, and given there’s no shoulder, asking everyone to park along it isn’t the best idea.”

  Of course, he hadn’t hesitated when he called out search and rescue, but in this case, Jane agreed. “Besides, that’s so close to the Hales’.”

  There was a pause. “Not likely to impact them, but you’re right.”

  “Are you still getting tips?”

  “They’ve slowed down drastically yesterday and today.” His voice was gentle as he gave her the bad news.

  “You said you checked out known pedophiles.”

  Horror filled Drew’s eyes at the reminder of their worst fear. He drew his head back, as if he was a turtle wanting to retreat into his shell. Jane was sorry to have opened her big mouth in front of him, although the possibility had to be with him at all times anyway, as it was with her.

  “Nothing jumped out at us,” Clay said. “It would have been incredibly bad luck if one of them had been passing at the exact right moment.”

  But awful things involving bad luck did happen. They both knew that.

  “Will you be there?” she asked. “I mean, this afternoon?”

  “Of course I will.” There was an indefinable note in his voice. Tenderness, instead of the businesslike tone she’d expect? “I’ll make a statement once you and Drew are done, reinforcing the message.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “We’ll see you then.”

  She and Drew agreed to split up for now. He was going to take Alexis to her day camp then go straight to the hospital, while Jane wanted to go by her apartment, at least briefly. At the very least, she needed to grab some clothes suitable for the press conference and maybe trade out some of the others, but promised to join Drew at the hospital later.

  “Lissa was looking so much better,” he said, almost but not quite sounding hopeful. “Maybe today.”

  Jane managed a smile and touched his arm, but fleetingly this time. “Soon.”

  * * *

  THE SIGHT OF Lissa’s face twitching, her lips momentarily parting, her eyelids flickering, no longer convinced Drew she was really on the verge of waking up. He wanted that, no matter how angry he was at her. For her sake, of course, because he knew love was still part of the confused mix he felt. The idea of all her fire and vitality stilled forever seemed impossible. Mostly, though, he ached for her to regain consciousness so they could ask her about Bree.

  One of his greatest fears was she would know nothing. If Bree had been snatched after the SUV went off the road, which seemed likeliest, Lissa wouldn’t have seen anything. She’d probably lost consciousness the moment her head hit the glass.

  But she could damn well explain why she’d lied to him about where she was going, he thought with a deep-down coldness that wasn’t like him. And why she was out on an obscure country road that went nowhere she should want to be.

  Why she had endangered their child.

  But he knew she’d claim he had done that, and he already felt guilty enough. If only he hadn’t insisted she take Bree...

  I didn’t know. How could I know?

  He had known something was wrong, though. A whole lot had been wrong for weeks, if not months. They had
n’t made love in...three weeks or more, and that had been only the once and she’d acquiesced with initial reluctance. He had told himself she was tired because she’d been working extra hours, which was his fault. That, as their financial manager, she’d been feeling the stress of their reduced income. Because he’d felt inadequate, he hadn’t questioned why so much else had changed.

  He’d been a coward.

  No more, he thought. He could tell that cop despised him, and Drew didn’t blame him. It bothered him more that Jane must feel the same. How could she help it? He’d willfully buried his head in the sand.

  Coward.

  He and Jane had somehow built a friendship despite the way he’d treated her after he met Lissa. Until recently, he hadn’t known how much he valued her friendship. He hadn’t even noticed that a small voice in his head had been whispering, You made a mistake.

  Jane, he was beginning to think, was worth ten of her more vivid, charismatic sister.

  Then he looked at his wife’s face and closed his eyes in pain. No. He loved her still. He did.

  He thought he could love Jane, too, but...not the same way.

  Increasingly, Drew suspected Lissa didn’t love him, not anymore. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even so much as that suspicion, so...he hadn’t.

  Coward.

  He took out his wallet and removed the accordion insert that held photos. A wedding picture. He flipped past that, as well as another of Lissa, until he came to one of her holding a newborn Bree. So small and helpless, with more hair than any newborn ought to have. Jane’s hair. He had another of Bree at about two, taken before Christmas that year to send to his parents, as well as to be framed on the mantel in the house he and Lissa had just bought. The most recent one he had was Bree’s school picture from last year. She looked...cautious in it. Alexis was grinning or making a silly face in every picture they ever took, but not Bree. He gazed at his eldest daughter for a long time, until he couldn’t see it anymore through the tears.

  * * *

  IT WAS TOO damned hot to wait outside for Jane’s arrival, but Clay paced near a window that looked out on the parking lot.

  He saw her brother-in-law first, and was glad when she didn’t get out of his car. She must be driving herself, then.

  Drew hovered near the front steps, not looking as if he was sure where he should go or what he should do, then saw something that made him hustle inside. Clay craned his neck. A television news van, with the satellite dish atop, was rolling in. He was glad to see it. Announcing a press conference was one thing, but there was no guarantee anyone would actually show up. Something more exciting might arise.

  And in this case...Bree Wilson was undeniably becoming old news. Only her age and the horror every parent felt had kept her disappearance as prominent on the news as it had been for this long.

  Clay went to meet Drew, who shook his hand but was reserved. He’d obviously shaved and used something to slick his hair into obedience, but Clay couldn’t help noticing how he’d aged in less than a week. As distraught as he’d been that first day when he came in to report his wife and daughter missing, he had still looked like a young man. Lines hardly visible on his face then had now deepened to crevasses. His eyes had the thousand-yard stare of a man who had forgotten how to sleep. He kept blinking, either because his eyes burned or because he wasn’t focusing well. Clay felt renewed pity.

  “Jane on her way?” he asked.

  “Yes. She ran into someone she knew on the way out of the hospital, but she can’t be far behind me.”

  “Good,” he said. “We’ll set up on the steps so the sign is right behind us, to emphasize that the weight of the sheriff’s department is behind you and to reinforce the message that viewers who know anything should call us.” He kept talking, trying to prep Drew, but wasn’t sure how much he said was getting through.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black Yukon pull into the parking lot. A moment later, Jane walked in, her gaze locking onto Clay as though no one else was in the room. He tried to repress his reaction to her and greet her calmly.

  He suspected she’d encouraged her brother-in-law to wear a dress shirt and slacks but to skip the tie. His choice of attire made him look serious, but not so together he’d be off-putting to other parents who couldn’t imagine getting up in the morning and getting dressed at all if their child was missing. Jane had worn slacks and a short-sleeve rust-colored blouse that he thought was silk. She’d tried to tame her hair, this time with a pair of tortoiseshell combs that held it back from her face. He thought she’d applied some makeup, too. The fact he noticed told him how rarely she wore any. She carried a folder, and he wondered what was in it.

  He repeated some of what he’d told Drew, and she only nodded at information she must already know. He’d been keeping an eye out over her shoulder and saw quite a cluster of reporters and camera operators outside. They waited in front of a podium the department used when making statements.

  “Looks like we’re ready,” Clay said. “Who wants to go first?”

  The two looked at each other. “I will,” Jane said, and Drew nodded. Then she opened the manila folder and drew out a large color printout of a photo of Brianna, one he hadn’t seen. She wore a bathing suit, her nose was a little sunburned and she was laughing. “Can we tape this to the front of the podium?” she asked. “Where they can’t help seeing it?”

  “Good idea.” He grabbed a tape dispenser from the nearest desk, then held the door open for Jane and Drew.

  The murmur of voices went silent while he carefully centered and aligned the photo, then taped it in place. They were all looking at it, he was glad to see.

  He then stepped up to the podium, introduced himself even though everyone there knew him and explained that Brianna Wilson’s aunt and father each had brief statements to make, after which he and they would take a few questions.

  Jane took his place. She gripped the podium on each side, her knuckles white. Not, he knew, because speaking in public made her nervous, but because this time it mattered so much.

  “We’re here today,” she said, her voice pitched to reach even curiosity seekers who’d paused at the back of the pack, “to ask the public to remain alert to any glimpse of my niece, Brianna Wilson. As the days pass, it becomes too easy for people who don’t know her to put her out of their minds. For those of us who love her—” Her voice cracked. Her fingers tightened. “We cannot forget for an instant. Brianna should be—we pray will be—starting second grade this coming week. She’s smart, a little shy, intensely loyal to her friends. She must have been terrified to see her mother injured, and more terrified yet by whatever happened next.” She vibrated with intensity as her gaze moved from face to face. “Please, please, don’t forget Brianna. Watch for her. Pay attention if something seems wrong at a house in your neighborhood or at the end of your road. Brianna is somewhere, and her only hope is you.” She talked some more, ending with the offer of a twenty-thousand-dollar reward to be paid to anyone coming forward with information that led to finding her niece.

  Then she stepped back and let Drew speak. His voice was ragged as he echoed her plea, breaking down several times. By the end, tears ran down his ravaged face and fogged his glasses. The huge lenses of the cameras captured it all.

  Moved even though he’d orchestrated this whole thing, Clay squeezed Drew’s shoulder as he backed blindly away, then got his own message across. Who to call. Phone numbers for tips. A promise to honor anonymity when possible.

  The first questions were about Melissa’s condition. Clay answered those himself, sounding more confident than he felt when he said they anticipated she would regain consciousness within the next day or two. He sensed Jane’s quick glance and hoped it didn’t show too much surprise. He wasn’t exactly setting her sister up as bait...but he wanted to alarm the assailant, if there had been one.

&
nbsp; “Lieutenant Vahalik,” a woman from a Bend television station called, “have you been working this investigation at all?”

  Clay tensed. Of course she’d been recognized.

  “The accident and presumed abduction happened outside my jurisdiction.” She gestured toward the bronze placard beside the entry doors that said Butte County Sheriff’s Department. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the sheriff’s department and the Angel Butte Police Department work closely together. Sergeant Renner and I were already acquainted. I feel very fortunate he is heading this investigation. I trust he will be as thorough as I would be.”

  “How does it feel to be a victim’s family member instead of an investigator?” someone else asked.

  Clay hated questions like that. What did they think it felt like? He especially didn’t like this attempt to get Jane to bare herself for the entertainment of their viewing audiences. It was all he could do to stay impassive and not intervene, which he knew she wouldn’t appreciate.

  She met the reporter’s gaze, her own naked. “I am terrified and heartbroken. That’s how it feels. I do believe I have always treated the family of victims with empathy, so I’m not sure what will change in the future beyond, of course, having a deeper sense of what they’re going through.”

  Clay didn’t let anyone else jump in. He wound the thing down with a repeat of the phone numbers for reporting any sighting of Brianna Wilson or any knowledge whatsoever of her whereabouts.

  Then he ushered Drew and Jane inside and led them to a small conference room, where he was able to shut the door. Drew sagged into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Jane laid a gentle hand on his back and rubbed. Clay resisted the need to do the same for her.

  “You both did a good job,” he said. “I think you had exactly the effect you wanted. I’m predicting Brianna’s photo will be back above the fold on page one tomorrow, and on the local news on every station tonight.” He didn’t add, “for a day or two.” Until fresh news crowded it out again.