Final Mend (4 page)

He rapped his hand across a name. “Dicey never returned my call. And really? It's probably a good thing he didn't. Mandy? No thanks, I need someone who can get down and dirty.”

“Dicey happens to be a very good PI. He's one of the best.”

“Too good to return calls, apparently.”

“Mandy has a good reputation. Don't judge her just because she's a woman. I'm a woman.”

His eyes inched along her body. “No doubt. But Mandy didn't rank high enough for my standards.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Didn't need to. I'm not looking for just a PI. They're a dime a dozen. I need someone with your level of expertise.”

“Don't waste your time here.”

Her words raked across his skin in a fiery backlash.

“I've done my research. And I believe
you're
wasting time here, serving drinks in your brother's bar. I know your mom died, and I know how bad that hurts. I've lost my entire family, but I haven't given up. I don't think she'd want you to give up what you're good at just so you can sit around here and grieve her.”

Her eyes flashed. He'd angered her, and he felt good about it. Anger at least meant she was feeling something.

“That's none of your business. But the keywords are ‘good at.' I'm not good at it anymore, and I don't do it anymore. Case closed. And just so you know, I might not tip off the news about you, but someone else might want to find their fifteen minutes of fame with the paparazzi. So you might want to think about where you're spending your time.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, a bar probably isn't the best place for a recovering alcoholic.”

He stiffened his jaw as berating thoughts flashed through his mind. Her gaze flicked upward as her lips pinched together. He noticed her hands briefly clench as she fought the urge to clasp her hands in front of her like a shield. He had no retaliation except to slam the door in her face.

So—he slammed the door in her face.

Winona hefted a bag of dog food and carried it to the back where the bowls were kept. Five dogs bustled up to her, wagging their tails and barking as she poured each of them a bowl of chow. Several other dogs played together outside, inside the fence, but those were the ones who could get along. Later, she would let Gruff out. He didn't like other dogs, barely liked people, and wasn't crazy about getting his paws dirty. Winona wondered if he even liked himself.

Overall, twelve dogs lived in the shelter, which wasn't bad in comparison to some shelters she'd volunteered at. But most of those shelters were larger, and twelve dogs with no home were twelve too many.

She loved the dogs. It broke her heart to see them lose their homes. Some people just decided they didn't want them anymore, couldn't afford them anymore, or maybe they got a divorce and couldn't handle them anymore. For whatever reason, Winona didn't approve. Would you give up your child just because you lost your income? She thought not, though many gave up their child after a divorce.

When someone wanted to adopt a pet, she always counseled them to make sure they knew what they were getting into. Yes, the animals needed a home, but she tried to make this shelter as good a home as they could get, and she'd rather they stay here than go somewhere they'd be ignored or abandoned. The other volunteers felt the same, and the owner would take them all home if she could.

Winona had often thought of adopting one, but it wouldn't fit in her lifestyle right now. It was easier to take care of them from the shelter. For one, she was staying in Reagan's condo and for two, she wasn't sure how long she'd be here.

An hour later, Winona left the dogs and tended to the cats. Twenty-three cats, eight of them kittens and nine of them old enough they would probably never have a forever home.

She'd felt that way at one point in her life.

She held the ones that would let her. Petted them, played with them, and scooped their litter. There was a small room set up that she put them in so they could get out of their cages and stretch their feet. When Winona had arrived, she made sure the cages and the rooms grew so it wouldn't feel so much like a prison. Chayton and Garret had both donated money to help with the additions.

She volunteered several hours a week after working at Air Dog and usually ended up here on weekends, too. She didn't need the money, would rather do some good in her life, and she was content. Working with the animals brought her more fulfillment than anything she'd ever done, including searching for lost people.

She'd discovered over the years that most people weren't lost. They just didn't want to be found. There were those who didn't know they were lost but would never be the same after they were found.

And then there were those who could never be found. Lost forever. Those were the cases that had ultimately destroyed her.

“Hello?”

Lost in thought, she hadn't heard the front door open. She glanced at the clock, saw that it was thirty minutes to closing time, and stood as anxiety scratched her spine. She hated to be caught unaware, and not knowing that someone had approached made her unaware. The voice was deep and boisterous. A man's voice.

“One second,” she called. She returned Tabby to her cage and closed the door. Walking out, her footsteps faltered when she recognized Jake.

He stood in the doorway, his broad frame filling the room with a sexy maleness she couldn't afford to notice. His gaze raked over her with those deep blue eyes that hadn't left her dreams.

She tried to mask the frown on her face by scanning the room. “Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to thank you for giving me the names of those PIs and tell you I'm sorry for being so surly. Unfortunately, I called them back and told them what you told me and they still insisted they couldn't help.”

“I don't believe that.”

Glowering, he grabbed his phone and handed it to her. “Call them yourselves.”

“I believe I will.”

She felt bad about last night. Regret had kept her restless and unable to sleep, but she couldn't apologize. If her words made him angry enough to leave, all the better. He needed to realize he was wasting his time here. In different conditions, she would ask him out, but this situation was beyond repair.

She found her contacts and hit send on Nathan's name.

“Yeah?” he chirped when he answered.

“Hey, Nate, it's Winona. How the hell are you?”

“Winoney? Well I'll be damned. I was just talking about you earlier.”

“I hope it was good talk.”

“Yeah. I should have called and told you to expect a guy by the name of, oh, let me find my paperwork. I feel like I should know him, he's called so much. Plus he's semi-famous. Like Michael Phelps famous. Well, maybe not quite that famous. Let me see, oh here it is. Jake Inman.”

“Yes, that's why I'm calling. He said you said I'd be his best bet.”

“Yeah.”

She reeled away from Jake, ignoring the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, well, you know I'm not taking clients anymore.”

“No, I didn't know. I mean, yeah, you talked about it, but I thought for sure after a while you'd go back. And I believe you were always the best and would be the best for what this guy needs.”

“Why is that? You know I don't handle these cases anymore.” She tried to mask the desperation in her voice that rose with each thought of taking a case that involved a little girl who would probably never be found. Besides, Jake said this girl was probably with her mother. Maybe she was just fine. Maybe. One could believe and convince themselves that was the truth. Some days, that was the only way she survived.

“Sorry, Winoney. I think you should listen to this guy's story and give him a chance.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly and forcefully.

“I think you would be best,” she said.

“I can't do it right now. Since you left, I'm overwhelmed with work. And you're a better tracker. This case needs you. I can't do it. I'm sorry, Winoney. I just think you should reconsider.”

“You think I should go back to work.”

“You know I never wanted you to quit.”

“Okay. Thanks. I'll talk to you later.”

“That's it?” Nathan's voice rose, and she pictured his eyebrows notching up as well.

“I'm really busy. I'll call you later and we can chit-chat.” And she didn't want to air the reasons why she wasn't right for this case in front of Jake.

She ended the call and pivoted around to Jake. His smirk shot ire to her stomach.

“Well?” he asked.

“You know what he said.”

“You want to call the others?”

“It won't change my mind. I can't take this case.” Winona turned and walked to the back to check on the cages and make sure everything was closed and all the animals were fed and watered. Jake followed. She bottled her fear as she loaded food in the empty canister so it'd be full for the help tomorrow.

He watched her a moment. Silence spread between them like a chasm of water.

“You help animals, but you won't help a little girl.” His voice was straight and sterile.

She dropped the sack of feed and faced him. Her heart, aching and breaking inside, opened to let hurtful words spew forth. “There's nothing I can do for that little girl. If she has, in fact, been kidnapped and she's with her mom, she's fine. Otherwise, she's probably already dead.”

• • •

Shock reeled through Jake. Not at what she said. He didn't deny that possibility. But at the fact she didn't mince words. He liked that about her and could understand why so many PIs had told him she was his best bet. If she'd take that fervor to the field and search for the little girl who meant the world to him, she'd find her. Jake knew it without a doubt. She'd find Amy whether she was dead or alive, and Jake had to know.

“Maybe she is dead,” Jake said. “But at this point I don't know that. Even if you do find her dead body, at least I can rest knowing I did everything I could to find her. Give her a proper burial.”

Winona, who had continued to load the feed in bins, straightened and faced him. “You think you mean it now. But now, there's a chance she's still alive. If you lose that hope, if I were to destroy that hope, you won't rest any easier.”

“So you think I should spend the rest of my life wondering? Knowing I didn't try hard enough? Have you ever known what it's like not to know if someone you love is dead or alive?”

Her eyes darkened, the center of her forehead furrowing. He'd forgotten about her search for her brother.

“Yeah, I can relate,” she said, her tone icy.

“What if you hadn't tried hard enough to find Chayton? You wouldn't be here now, would you? You would never have found your brother.”

“That's different.”

“How is that different? Chayton's life wasn't at stake. Amy's is. She's a little girl. She's all I have. Please.”

Winona took a hard, obvious swallow and glanced at the feed bin. Her shoulders hunched. Jake saw her weakening. He didn't know what had led her to quit investigating and it didn't matter to him. He grieved too much to feel compassion for anybody else's circumstances.

“Let's get together and talk later. Bring me everything you know about Amy and her mother, including pictures. Bring everything you know about what happened leading up to her disappearance. But you'll have to give me time to make a decision.”

“I don't have time.”

“I'll do what I can to find others who can help, and I'll contact the police to see what they're doing and what they know. We need leads before we know where to search. But as far as getting out there and searching for her, I don't know that I can do that.”

• • •

Jake roamed the outdoor market through waves of fresh fruit and vegetables. The smell of citrus and mint and mango infused the ambiance, and colorful swatches of squash and cucumber and tomato offered a perfect blend of summer. Jake bypassed the fish market and, a bag of fresh fruits and veggies in hand, entered the store in search for the rest of what he needed to make tonight's meal.

He and Winona were to meet at his hotel later that evening, but he planned to surprise her at her condo and cook his special dinner for her.

He didn't care if she didn't like it. He needed an excuse to cook, and he was going to make her listen to him. He couldn't stand to be in his B&B a minute longer, and her place would offer the place he needed to cook. He was pretty sure his boldness would pay off when she tasted his meal. Chicken baked in a creamy mushroom and onion sauce with squash, potatoes, and green beans. A bottle of sweet white wine to counteract the spice of the meal for her, and sparkling apple juice for him. A loaf of fresh jalapeno bread would top off a perfect meal. And a fresh cherry cheesecake for dessert.

His mouth watered. He couldn't wait. It'd been weeks since he'd enjoyed the stress relief of cooking a nice meal in a real kitchen.

The thought of cooking made him feel like himself again, and he planned to be himself without all the grief wrapped around him. He'd charm, entice, and endear Winona instead of letting his fear and anger take over. Earlier, he'd taken a run through the mountains, enjoying the fresh air as it cleansed him. Then he'd sat in silence and meditation for a good twenty minutes, using the visualization techniques Brandon had urged him to use.

It had worked somewhat, and he was going to do his best to pretend like nothing bad was happening in his life right now. He would do his best to convince Winona to take this job and find Amy.

Bags in hand, he walked to her condo, praying she was home. If not, well, hell, maybe he'd knock on her brother's door and offer to make him and Naomi a meal. He had to cook before he went crazy.