Ghosts (3 page)

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to. Me and Martha have gotten pretty good at reading what’s going on in a kid’s mind.”

Vance was glad his teenage antics went for some good, at least. “Can I see her computer?”

“We don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a computer?” Vance repeated.

“I know.” Allie joined them in the kitchen. “I have no clue how they do it. Of course, coverage out here is pretty terrible. My smartphone doesn’t work at all back here.”

Vance considered that piece of information. “So what are the odds Nicole had a smartphone?”

“We never got her one.” Henry shook his head. “She got one of those little folding phones for emergencies.”

“A flip phone?” Vance clarified, biting the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Allie caught his eye and nodded. “Of course, that doesn’t mean she didn’t have her own parent-free phone hidden away somewhere. Have you looked through her things?”

“Martha might have.” Henry shrugged.

“Martha might have what?” They were joined in the kitchen by the very woman in question. She’d come through the side door just in time to hear her name.

“Did you go through Nicole’s things?” Allie supplied when the men were struck mute.

“Of course,” she answered Allie before turning to Vance. “Who are you?”

He stood, unconsciously straightening his clothes as he did. He cleared his throat to tell her who he was when recognition dawned.

“Heaven above. Vance. Is it really you?”

“In the flesh.” He tipped his head.

She took a deep breath, her eyes questioning, and then shook her head no. “I’m sorry, but if you’ve come to ask for help, we just can’t right now.”

Vance bit back his initial response that he’d never once asked them for anything. “I don’t need anything, Martha.”

“Well, if you’re walking the twelve steps, we forgive you.” She set her purse on the counter as she dismissed him with a wave.

“I’m not in a recovery program.” Vance sincerely tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“The boy isn’t here because he needs something from us,” Henry interjected before Martha could find new ways to insult Vance. “He’s here to help us find Nicole. He works with the FBI.”

It was close enough to the truth that Vance let it slide, mostly because he enjoyed the sliver of vindication it gave him. Something changed in her countenance at the news. Vance could see it in her eyes, and suddenly he understood. He understood because he’d felt that way before, too. Sometimes a person just needs to know that something, anything, they’ve done in their life has resulted in some bit of good. Sometimes it’s nice to know all of your efforts aren’t futile.

Martha Barnett wasn’t a warm and fuzzy woman. She was work-hardened and practical, almost to a fault. But she’d taken Vance in when he’d had nowhere else to go. When he’d had nightmares that his father had found him again, it was her calloused hands that had soothed his brow. She’d taught him right from wrong, even if it had taken a few years for it to sink in.

In that moment, seeing that look on her face, Vance wanted nothing more than to be the kind of man she’d raised him to be. It was the first time in a very long time that Vance was aspiring
to
something instead of running away
from
something. It was a start, anyway. And it gave him hope that he might even feel at home in his own skin again—someday, anyway.

“YOU’RE HANDSOMER
without the beard.”

Vance stopped what he was doing and looked down at the very serious little girl. He rubbed his newly shaved chin thoughtfully. “Thank you, Grace.”

In return, Grace giggled nervously at having his undivided attention, scurrying off to hide under a blanket on the couch. She peeked out after a moment, only to disappear again in a fit of giggles when he waved at her.

Martha watched the exchange with an amused smile on her lips before commenting, “I think that little girl is as smitten with you as her mama always was.”

Vance opened his mouth to protest that he and Allie had merely been friends when it occurred to him that her status as his “first” had moved them out of the friendship realm. It was probably best Martha never found out what happened in the backseat of her old 1987 Chevy Nova. Instead, he commented that Grace was a sweet little girl and let the subject drop, refocusing his attention on the computer screen in front of him.

It had taken almost a week for Nicole’s disappearance to reach Jeff’s desk. Even if she had run away, even if she hadn’t been taken, statistics told him she was at risk: One in three teens was lured into prostitution within forty-eight hours of leaving home. Living in the rural heartland didn’t exempt a young girl from that danger. Vance hoped it bought him time, though.

He’d worked with a team at the FBI to develop a software program to scan the Internet for chatter that might indicate someone fitting Nicole’s description had been taken. A lot of law enforcement agencies had their own version of it, but Vance had added a few bells and whistles to his. Of course, nothing beat checking the online hotspots for himself, which was his current task. There was something surreal about participating in the vilest of chats as his undercover persona while listening to the musical sound of innocent laughter in the background.

Vance shook his head, unable to reconcile the disconnect. “I’m going to run into town for a bit, maybe talk to Nicole’s boss to see if he knows anything that could help. Do you have that list of her friends I asked for?”

Martha handed him a slip of paper with two names on it. “I don’t know if you could call these girls friends. Nicole kind of kept to herself. The one girl here, she goes to church with us. The other is a friend from school.”

Vance slid the paper into his laptop case after glancing at the names. He had nothing to go on so far. Her brother and sister hadn’t been much help. All he’d learned from talking to them was that Henry’s suspicion was correct: Nicole was saving her pennies to get her little family out of Dallas County and far away from the memories it held. “Thanks for this. Henry has my number if you need to reach me.”

“Will you be back in time for dinner?” Martha’s brow crinkled, a gesture Vance had long ago learned to recognize as a sign of her displeasure.

“You don’t have to feed me. I’ll grab a room in town. I’ll have better luck finding Nicole if I can focus.”

Martha nodded. She couldn’t argue against anything that would help bring Nicole home. “I could bring you some food later, if you’d like.”

Vance stopped packing his things and stopped to take Martha’s hands in his. “When Nicole is safe at home, I will come over, and we’ll have a big ol’ family dinner, just like we had when I was a kid. And I fully expect you to serve the Jell-O stuff—the lime kind.”

Some of the worry wicked away from her face at his words. “Do you really think you can find her?”

Vance considered lying to her, but he knew that would only make the truth harder to swallow down the road. He opted for hope-tinged honesty. “There are a lot of really scary possibilities when a teenage girl goes missing, and the longer she’s gone, the scarier they get. But I don’t see any indication that she’s been trafficked, which makes me think she either ran away or was taken by someone she knows. Neither is good, but it’s better than having been trafficked.”

It was the best he could offer, and from her solemn nod, he knew it was enough to help Martha through this day. They’d take tomorrow as it came.

***

Winding along the roads where he’d first learned to drive, with his windows down and a warm breeze kissing his cheek, Vance saw the rolling green hills in a new light. The sky was a brilliant azure; silvery wisps floated lazily along a track of endless blue. Hay in various stages decorated the hills: some freshly cut, some already raked into neat rows, and some baled, pristine and ready. Vance loved the smell of hay season.

Seeing it through these new eyes, he had to ask himself why he’d ever left such a pretty picture to return to the harsh streets of his early childhood. Had Vance really expected a different outcome? Had he truly been that naive, or just that angry? Looking back, it wasn’t shocking that he’d ended up as little more than hired muscle for a pimp with aspirations of being a big-league trafficker. At the time, he’d thought it was that or starve. Vance couldn’t help wondering what his life would have been if he’d realized there was a door number three. What if he had come back to the Barnetts, hat in hand, asking for another chance? Would he be married to Allie Walker now, settled into a pretty little farmhouse with a couple of kids of their own running around? For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Elijah and Grace were his children.

Vance swerved to miss a turtle sunning itself on the blacktop. The creature sucked its head back into its shell as if the action would protect it from a ton of Chevy. Vance peeked in the rearview mirror to assure himself he’d missed it, telling himself his what-ifs were about as helpful as that turtle’s shell would have been. Besides, it felt disloyal to Harmony to even entertain the notion. The fact remained that he had left home, he had worked for Spence, he had met Harmony. He had led the love of his life on a path that marched straight to her death. He hadn’t protected her when she needed him most.

On some level, Vance knew he wasn’t the only one to blame for Harmony’s death. Bad choices and sheer dumb luck on her own part had helped. And now there was another teenage girl caught in the crosshairs of bad choices and dumb luck. If Harmony was here, they’d save her together. But she wasn’t, so he set his mind to saving her for Harmony.

After filling up his truck’s gas tank, Vance asked the cashier where he could find Wi-Fi in town. She directed him to the local coffee shop, and he thought to himself that the small hamlet had gone big time. He parked on the picturesque little town square, grabbed his computer, and headed inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized Buffalo really had moved up in the world. The trendy cafe was a pleasant surprise. He ordered a concoction that might possibly cost him his man card before settling in at a table. The nearby leather couch looked inviting, but he wasn’t there to read the paper. The stiff-backed chair would better serve to keep his mind focused.

In the background another customer ordered a smoothie, and his heart constricted. Harmony loved smoothies. Vance shoved the thought aside as he clicked through the computer screen. Thirty minutes later, he had to admit he wasn’t getting anywhere on his own. Maybe he’d been out of the game too long. At any rate, he resigned himself to asking for help. One secure email later, he closed his computer with a sigh. Rick and Veronica Sinclair had been his partners for years. He hadn’t talked to them in months—maybe closer to a year. It was too painful. They reminded him too much of too many things. But they were good friends; they’d not only help, they’d probably be happy to hear he was both alive and sober at the moment.

“Rough day?” the barista asked conversationally.

Vance glanced around before realizing she was talking to him. “Long day. Weird day.”

The bell on the door jingled, drawing both of their attention before she could answer. Vance wasn’t sure if he was happy or dismayed to see Allie stroll through. She stopped short at the sight of him, obviously dismayed—a fact that wasn’t lost on the barista.

Allie rested a hand on her stomach as if to calm it before forcing a smile. “Hey, Vance. I see you’ve found our hidden treasure.”

He stood and stretched his back. “The city boy in me can sniff out a coffee shop from a mile away.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really. The lady at the Eagle Stop told me I could find Internet here.”

She put a hand on her hip and made a face at him. “I didn’t think you meant it literally.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking anymore.”

Allie opened her mouth to reply but must have thought better of it because she closed it, instead twisting her lips in thought. When it didn’t appear she was going to share that thought, Vance bid both her and the curious barista good afternoon. He was nearly out the door when she called after him. He stilled even before he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Her voice was soft. “Wanna buy me those beers tonight? I’m sure you’ll need a break at some point.”

His eyes met hers. He could see it there, the same question that had plagued him earlier:
What if?
“Sure. Is eight okay?”

“Seven’s better.”

Vance nodded, offering her a parting smile. They didn’t need to say where. The town was damn near dry, or it had been when he’d lived there. Meeting for a beer narrowed the choices considerably—as in, down to one.

The prospect of hearing what Allie had against him made him nervous, but it would be a relief to have it out in the open. Besides, there was a teenage girl missing, and that mattered more than what he’d done to alienate his first love. To that end, he made his way to the fast food restaurant where she worked on the edge of town. He’d try them before heading out to the Donaldson place to see if he could track down Nicole’s friend. She’d spent the night their once or twice. Maybe someone in that family would have heard something.

The girl behind the counter was indifferent to Vance, if not irritated by his presence. He idly wondered what had happened to the days when he was intimidating enough to garner respect.

“Hi,” he returned her greeting. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about Nicole.”

Her indifference turned to suspicion as she eyed him. “You don’t look like a cop.”

“I’m not.”

“Then I don’t know anything.”

“I’m with the FBI,” he amended when he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her otherwise.

“Prove it.”

Vance scowled, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction when she took a step back. He showed her an ID. It was forged, but it did the trick.

“I already talked to the cops. I don’t know anything.”