Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte) (14 page)

Clay did, too.

“I like the deeper involvement we have.” Jane was still pursuing her train of thought. “Your father’s like an E.R. doc, and we’re more like, I don’t know, oncologists.”

Clay grinned. “Following a case to the death? Calling us surgeons might be a better analogy. We slice out the damaged tissue, allowing the body to heal.”

She flashed a smile that made her beautiful for that moment. He hadn’t seen her free of the effects of stress since last fall, before he’d blown it. “That’s good,” she exclaimed. “You’re right.”

His momentary jubilation faded. He pushed his empty plate away. “I wish I knew where to cut.”

“I do, too,” she said in a stifled voice, the delight gone as if it had never been. “I would give anything...”

“I know.” He reached across the table to cover her small fist with his hand. He felt her quiver.

“If Bree’s dead—”

She might well be, either because as a witness to an assault she was too great a threat, or because a sexual predator had grabbed her and was now, after too many goddamn days, done with her. Still, Clay’s gut kept saying no. He thought the girl was being held for some other reason, most likely to put pressure on her father or mother. No, it almost had to be her mother, assuming she surfaced from the coma; Drew had agreed to a phone tap early on, in case there was a ransom call, but there’d been nothing. Unless someone had slipped him a note or bumped into him in the hospital corridor to mutter a message.... But had his behavior changed in any significant way? Clay couldn’t see it.

His silence was answer enough. Jane’s throat worked, but her eyes stayed dry. He wasn’t used to feeling such pride in anyone. She was a gutsy woman.

“My father called,” he said, surprising himself.
Not smart.
But it was too late. “He knew I was working Bree’s disappearance.”

“Did he give you a hard time for not finding her yet?” So she remembered what he’d said about his father’s competitiveness.

“We didn’t get there.” Oh, damn, he was going to do it. “I told him about you.”

Her eyes widened.

“He couldn’t imagine why I’d be interested in a woman cop. Said some vulgar crap. I realized I’ve been hearing the same kind of things all my life.”

“We want to admire our parents.” Her voice was thick. “Accepting we can’t is devastating.”

Of all people, she knew. A mother who’d abandoned her, a father who had hurt her.

Different way, but I hurt her, too.
The reminder told him he should leave, now.

He stood, too abruptly, and carried his plate and empty glass to the sink. He rinsed them, then added them to the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Then he faced Jane. “I’d better go.”

“All right,” she said, sounding bewildered, and for good reason.

She trailed him to the front door, where he paused. Damn it, her bare toes were curling, as if the tile entryway floor was cold. “I shouldn’t have told you what my father said.”

“You didn’t, not really.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile that held no amusement at all. “I said enough—you can guess.”

“Clay...” She touched his arm, only fleetingly, but he felt it like a burn. “You’re not responsible for your father’s beliefs or behavior.”

“Only for when I echo them,” he said flatly.

Her expression was odd now. “You’re changing.”

“I guess I am,” he said after a minute. “Is it too late, Jane?” Hearing himself, he thought,
God, I’m begging.

She didn’t answer directly. “I don’t understand why you want me.” Her eyes were shadowed as she studied him, tiny furrows pleating her forehead. “Am I just a challenge?”

“No.” He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from cupping her face. He loved the cushiony feel of her cheeks, the warmth of her breath. “God, no. It’s you, that’s all.”

She lifted her hands to cover his. “Three weeks ago I’d have said it was too late.”

He grunted at the memory of their confrontations before and after the raid. “You did say.”

“Now...you confuse me, Clay. But I want to believe you can accept me the way I am.”

He wanted to believe he could, too.

He made a sound, one that seemed to provide a trigger for her, too. The next moment his arms had closed hard around her, and she’d surged onto tiptoes so her mouth could meet his.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“A
LEXIS
ALREADY
EATEN
?” Jane accepted part of the morning newspaper from Drew and reached for her tea.

He made an assenting noise.

The front section—good. After a sip, she scanned the front page quickly, then again.

“We’re not on the front page anymore.”

The panic in her voice was enough to penetrate Drew’s preoccupation. He slowly lifted his head. “What?”

She repeated herself.

He stared at her without comprehension. “What difference does it make?”

How could he not see? “People will start forgetting. Thinking about other headlines, other crimes. They’ll quit paying as much attention if they happen to see a little girl who might be Bree. The tips will slow and eventually stop.”

“None of them have helped anyway.”

“But one might.” Had Clay noticed? Of course he had, she realized, but there was only so much he could do to keep interest alive. Any development would renew attention from the media, but there hadn’t been one. The closest they’d come was the witness who had been so busy gaping at an accident scene, he hadn’t paid any attention to the man who was abducting a little girl. “We need people to see her face
every day.
It’s... It might be Bree’s only hope.”

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.”

* * *

T
HE
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 hadn’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.

* * *

I
T
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.