by Janice Kay Johnson - Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte)
That was when, frustrated, Clay started pacing. He wanted to go to the hospital, give Melissa Wilson a good, hard shake and say, “What the hell were you up to, and where’s your daughter?”
And to think, he usually considered himself a patient man.
Thank God for Jane’s call. “Neither of us have said anything yet,” she told him, “but she’s seeming more aware. She asked how damaged her Venza was.”
“I’m on my way,” he said.
As irritable and restless as he’d been, Clay imagined everyone in the department was happy to see him leave.
During the short drive, he chafed at every stoplight. Somewhere along the way, he realized his eagerness wasn’t just for the chance to question Melissa. He wanted to see Jane, too. Even though he’d talked to her several times yesterday, that wasn’t the same as being with her. Yeah, he’d finally gotten naked with her, but he was all too well aware she still had a lot of hesitations where he was concerned.
Seemed he wasn’t patient where Jane was concerned, either. Or maybe that wasn’t really the issue, it occurred to him. What he really hated was uncertainty. And, yeah, lack of control.
When Clay arrived at the hospital, he spotted Jane and Drew right away. They sat close to each other in the waiting area outside ICU. His head was bent close to hers, and their hands were clasped. Clay was better able to suppress the flare of jealousy than the last time he’d seen a similar scene, but it was there, clenching his stomach.
At the sound of his footfalls, Jane looked up. He thought he saw relief on her face, which untied some of his own tension. Of course she wasn’t turning to her brother-in-law, not after having made love with Clay. And sure as hell not when her sister would need her husband so much.
Lissa, it turned out, was sleeping. They’d decided to wait out here for him. No, she hadn’t yet asked about the girls, and neither of them had said anything. They’d probably been dreading that moment.
“Thank you for waiting,” he said. He restrained the urge to kiss Jane, but he did lay a hand on her back as the three of them entered ICU together.
The nurse emerging from Lissa’s small room looked as if she’d like to protest the en masse invasion, but her gaze flicked to the badge at his belt and, after only a brief hesitation and crimped lips, she stepped aside without saying anything. Like every other person in the tri-county area, she must know about the missing girl.
Lissa still didn’t look like the beautiful woman she’d been in the family photos, not with the ugly bruising and the remains of swelling, but even before she opened her eyes, Clay could see significant change. It was obvious she was sleeping, and not unconscious.
Drew went right to her side and took her hand. “Liss,” he said softly.
Her lashes fluttered several times and then her eyes opened, focusing on her husband’s face. After a moment they roved, finding first Jane’s and then Clay’s. She kept staring at him, the stranger at the foot of her bed.
Her eyes were a color that, like Jane’s, could be labeled hazel, but were closer to brown flecked with some gold and green. He hadn’t been able to tell from the photo.
“Mrs. Wilson,” he said, nodding to her. “I’m Sergeant Brenner with the Butte County Sheriff’s Department.”
Puzzlement crinkled her forehead, but she murmured, “Sergeant.”
“I’m glad to see you recovering.”
“Thank you.”
Jane, he saw from the corner of his eye, had moved around the bed to stand at her sister’s side, opposite Drew. Protectively?
“I’m hoping you’ll be able to answer some questions.” He paused. Lissa’s expression didn’t change at all, but he still felt sure she was bracing herself. “Do you remember the accident?”
“No,” she said faintly. “Jane and Drew told me, but...” She trailed off.
“Did they say where it occurred?”
Something flared in her eyes, but she shook her head slightly.
“253rd.” He described the location. “Are you familiar with the Bear Creek area?”
“No.” She turned her head to look at her husband. “Why would I be there?”
“That’s what we need to know, Mrs. Wilson.” Clay hardened his voice. “Do you recall that your daughter Bree was with you in the vehicle when you went off the road?”
Her eyes, wildly dilating, met his again. “What? Was... She wasn’t hurt, was she?” That gave her an excuse to turn a pleading look on her husband.
His mouth opened, then closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Clay ruthlessly intervened. “We don’t know. She has been missing since the accident. If you dropped her off somewhere beforehand, we need to know.”
She broke into wild sobs. Jane took a step closer to the bed and bent over to smooth a hand over her sister’s forehead. “Shh. We’ll find her, Liss. We will.” She glared at Clay, all her conflict written in her expression. Anguish and anger and doubt.
He might understand the anger, but it pissed him off anyway. Was he the only one here whose first priority was Brianna, seven years old and vulnerable in a way her mother wasn’t? If so, it was a goddamn irony, considering he was the only one of them who had never met the kid.
“Where is she?” Lissa was sobbing. Her whole body thrashed. A nurse rushed into the room and condemned him with her stare, but when he jerked his head peremptorily toward the door, she reluctantly withdrew.
“Where?” Lissa cried. “Oh, God! Lexie! Is Lexie all right?”
“Lexie is fine,” her husband soothed her. “But Bree—” His voice broke. “We need your help, Liss. You have to tell us if you know anything.”
“How could I? If...if she wandered away or...or someone took her when I was unconscious?”
Her husband and sister swabbed at her tears and kept saying useless things like, “Of course we understand. We’ll find her. But if there’s anything at all you remember...?”
Disgusted, Clay interrupted. “Mrs. Wilson, I really need to know why you lied to your husband.” She broke off midsob. There was pure fear on her face, he’d swear it. “You told him were running a brief errand, to Rite Aid. But you never went there at all. Instead you ended up ten miles away on an obscure country road, where you were apparently driving at high speed with your daughter in the vehicle with you. If we knew why you were there and whether you were being pursued, we might have a chance of finding out who took your daughter and why.”
“I don’t remember anything!” she cried. “Why would I lie? How can you say that?” Her face crumpled theatrically as she peered up at her husband. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked damn pathetic, between her expression, the bruises and the tears. “You don’t believe him, do you, Drew?” She was heading toward hysteria. “You know I wouldn’t—”
“You’re still confused,” Jane began, but the glance Clay flicked at her sliced off the rest of what she’d meant to say.
“You were acting strange,” Drew said, in an oddly neutral voice. “You didn’t want to take Bree with you. And you didn’t go to Rite Aid—”
Her wild stare swung between them. “How do you know?”
“We’ve interviewed every clerk working last Saturday,” Clay said. “No one saw you. You didn’t make a purchase.”
“But...maybe I didn’t find what I wanted.”
“It was a quiet day at the store. The clerks were quite certain they’d have seen you if you’d come in. Your picture and Brianna’s have been plastered all over the newspapers and the television news. Two of the clerks remembered you from other times you shopped there. Not a single customer has called to say, ‘But I saw them at Rite Aid.’”
“I might have gotten a call—”
“We’ve looked at your phone records. The only call made to or from your mobile phone that day is the one you made, telling your hu
sband you’d forgotten to purchase an item he’d asked you to pick up at Rite Aid. That call was likely made moments before the accident.”
Powerful emotions were working under this woman’s too-slick surface. He couldn’t tell which one would win.
“I don’t remember anything!” she screamed. “Bree—oh, God, Bree.” She threw herself onto her side and fell into a storm of weeping.
After a telling moment of hesitation, Drew reached for her and began to murmur to her in a soft voice.
Frustrated, Clay knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of her. Without a word, he turned and walked out. He heard footsteps behind him and knew Jane had followed.
They were no sooner through the double, swinging doors when she snapped, “You knew how she’d react when she found out Bree was missing! You might have gotten somewhere with sympathy.”
“Sympathy?” He spun to face her, glad they were alone out here for the moment. “You think that’s what she needed?”
“Yes!”
He was in love with her, and she was confronting him as if he was the enemy. Good to know, he thought viciously.
He took a step closer until he loomed over her. “Tell me you didn’t believe her.”
Jane wasn’t the woman to back down. Her chin rose a notch and, if anything, she thrust it toward him, her expression fulminating. “I told you how confused she is! Of course she went nuts when she found out her daughter is missing! What, you expected her to give it cool, collected thought? Really?”
His lip curled. “You’re a detective, and you don’t know an act when you see one?”
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know genuine emotion when you see it.”
Man, she was looking at him as if she despised him. In her eyes, he’d been brutal. Had she really bought that hysterical, woe-is-me shit, hook, line and sinker? He couldn’t believe it.
It took him a minute to unclench his jaw. “You know what, Jane? Your sister started lying from the minute I asked the first question. She may not have known Brianna was missing. She might not even remember the accident itself.” Keeping his voice level was a challenge. “But she knew damn well why she was out on 253rd. I think she has a real good idea who took Bree and why. And I’ll be back to talk to her, whether you like it or not.” His scathing look swept over Jane’s flushed face. “But you go on back in there and pat her hand some more, if that makes you feel better.”
Her mouth opened in clear indignation, but nothing came out.
Clay was too mad to do anything but leave. Hoping she’d call after him, but knowing she wouldn’t.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AN INARTICULATE SOUND of fury escaped Jane’s throat as she watched Clay stalk out. All she could think was, she’d known what a jackass he could be. So why was she surprised? And...disappointed?
So much churned inside her, she was afraid to move. She was afraid she’d do some damage if she did. Slamming her fist into a wall appealed to her as it never had before.
She must have stood there for five minutes before her stomach began to hurt so much, she stumbled over to the chairs and sank onto one, bending over into a near-fetal position.
Oh, Lissa. Then, with greater anguish, Bree. And finally, Clay.
She rocked, torn by so many emotions she could hardly grab onto any one as it spun by. She’d needed Clay to—
Understand. That was it. Be here for her.
Find Bree. Even in her misery, she knew that was what she needed most from him.
And that was what he’d been trying to do.
I sabotaged him, she realized. Even Drew had done better than she had. Lissa had been able to see and hear his doubt. But her sister the cop? I wanted to jump between her and her attacker. Hold her. Comfort her.
Because that’s what I always did.
The painful cramping in her stomach wasn’t letting up. She kept flashing back to that last expression on Clay’s face, so different from the way he’d looked at her lately. She didn’t mind the anger as much as she did the disgust.
God help her, she deserved his disdain.
He was right. Lissa had lied. First to last, she’d lied. And Jane had known on one level, even as she locked into automatic defense mode.
How many times had she done that? How many times had she backed Lissa when she didn’t deserve it? Jane thought wretchedly, What I did was enabling. Maybe she was responsible for the calculating, manipulative woman her sister had become.
She’d thought she was giving love and support, and now she knew how blind she’d been. Clinging to an illusion of closeness, of love given in return when maybe there never was any.
Her mind had begun to work with cold clarity. How often had Lissa played her? If she didn’t truly love Jane, did she love anyone?
Even Bree?
Jane discovered she’d sat up straighter and was staring at an uninteresting landscape that hung on the wall.
No, that wasn’t right. She’d seen the expression on her sister’s face when she looked at her daughters. Heard her laughter, her terror when one of them did something reckless. Of course she loved Alexis and Bree.
Jane closed her eyes. And me. Of course she loves me. Maybe not the way Jane wanted to be loved. She was the one who needed a closeness that Lissa didn’t. Partly because Lissa had a family and Jane didn’t.
A conclusion reached, she walled it off. This wasn’t about her. It was about Bree.
Jane believed Lissa hadn’t known Bree had been snatched. Her shock and horror had been genuine. So...why hadn’t she leaped to tell them anything she could that would bring Bree safely home?
Why had she lied, and without even pausing to think it through? If she’d been having an affair, say, would hiding it come ahead of getting Bree back? Jane frowned. No—unless Lissa knew full well that whoever had snatched Bree wouldn’t hurt her.
What other reason could explain her decision to lie?
Fear, of course.
Because she knew her silence was all that kept Bree safe. Alive. Somehow, the minute she’d been told that Bree had been snatched, she’d understood what had happened and why.
Only—why had she driven out past the Bear Creek county park in the first place? If it was to meet someone, she couldn’t have been that afraid of him or her, or she surely wouldn’t have gone once she’d been compelled to take Bree with her.
But something had happened. Had she actually stopped, then saw something that made her panic? Panicked even before she stopped, and decided to step on the gas and get out of there?
Which parts did she remember, and which were still hazy for her?
The pain in Jane’s stomach intensified as she thought about how she’d blown it with Clay. He’d shown such trust in her. Treated her with the respect she’d wanted from him. And her? The first time he’d really needed her backing—the first time she’d had to make a choice between him and Lissa—she’d gone with knee-jerk outrage and defensiveness. Either he was steaming right now, or he’d written her off.
She’d rather think he was mad than so disgusted he no longer gave a damn.
Feeling very old suddenly, Jane tried to figure out what to do next. Go back in and see what was happening with Lissa? Call Clay and hope he’d listen to an apology?
Clay, of course, but, oh, she didn’t want to do this.
* * *
GIVEN THAT THIS was Labor Day weekend, a drive that should have taken ten minutes took closer to twenty. Tourists had multiplied like mosquitoes in May. It seemed as if everyone on the road was driving like an idiot, too. If he hadn’t been within the Angel Butte city limits for most of the way, and therefore out of his own jurisdiction, Clay would have been tempted to hit the siren and issue a few tickets.
When his phone rang and Clay saw Jane’s number, he muted the ring with a single
, hard stab. Let her leave a message. Right now, he didn’t want to talk to her.
He knew he’d get over it. Knew he’d even forgive her, because he understood the pressure she was under and that her sister still claimed her first loyalty. But, goddamn it, he didn’t like it.
He’d just parked and opened the door of his Cherokee when she called. Now, instead of getting out, he waited for the hum that would tell him he had a new voice mail message.
It came quickly. Teeth clenched, he typed in his password and listened.
“I’m hoping we can talk, Clay.” She sounded dignified and repressed. “No matter what, I owe you an apology. I suppose...” The silence stretched, until he expected the beep that would tell him she had hung up without finishing. But finally she said softly, “I wanted to believe her.” This time she was gone.
He groaned and bumped his head several times against the headrest. Call her? Or let himself cool down?
“Shit,” he said aloud, and touched Reply. A moment later, her phone was ringing.
“Clay?” She sounded surprised. She hadn’t expected him to call back.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat.
“You got my message?”
“Yeah,” he said again. “I owe you an apology, too.” This was hard to say. “I think I had to push your sister. But I was an asshole to you. I wanted—” Hell. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Of course she picked up on it. “You wanted?”
“Your cooperation,” he said, even though that wasn’t what he’d really wanted. “I was frustrated, too. It’s been a week, Jane. The chances of getting your niece back are diminishing by the minute.”
“I know.” Her voice was small.
“You have any suggestions?”
“I’m waiting to talk to Drew. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think she’s more likely to crack if he’s the one applying the pressure.”
She was admitting, more directly than she had with the apology, that she, too, knew her sister had lied. If this was anyone else, he’d have felt victorious. Instead he wished she didn’t have to face such a cruel truth.