Shadow of Vengeance (39 page)

She pressed her lips together, shook her head, then pushed off the counter. “I’m so frustrated, Owen. You know what I need?” She paced the kitchen. “I need me. I need a clone of me, sitting in CORE’s evidence and evaluation room. Do you realize that I could have already scanned that photo and evaluated it? The note we found on Bill? Yep. I could have done a handwriting analysis on that the day we found it. I could have personally handed all of this evidence over to Chihiro and got it back within twenty-four hours or even sooner. Instead, I’m at the mercy of the state police. I have to hope that they’ll drop any red tape bullshit and get us immediate results, which you and I both know isn’t going to happen.” She stopped pacing and looked to the ceiling. After a second, she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pop off on you. It’s just…”
 

Despite telling himself to keep their relationship professional during business hours, he pulled her into his arms. Whether she realized it or not, she wasn’t alone in her frustrations. He wanted her at CORE, too. He wanted her in that evidence and evaluation room doing what she did best. Pulling pieces of this crazy-ass puzzle together until something fit. When she melted into him, a sense of pride swelled inside of him. Chink by chink, he’d break past the barriers she’d set up around herself. Sex was one thing, but having her open up to him, confide her frustrations and insecurities, was a step in the direction he hoped they’d eventually take.
 

*

Rachel reentered Stanley Residence Hall’s gathering room. She’d just finished interviewing one of the girls, her thirteenth. She was about to call the next girl on her list when Owen and Jake came into the room, followed by the girls they’d both just interviewed. With the list of all the residents’ names in hand, she met them at the door, then nodded her head toward the foyer. “Well?” she asked, once they were outside of the gathering room. “How’d you two make out so far?”

Jake puffed his cheeks, then exhaled. He glanced at his own copy of the list of residents. “I’ve met with fifteen girls. All of them check out fine. None of them work in town, only one of them is in Stronach’s class, but she’s practically failing. They all knew Sean and Josh, but didn’t see or hear anything the night they were taken.”

Owen rubbed the back of his neck. “Minus Stronach, the dozen girls I’ve interviewed all said the same thing.”

As she stared at his hand, a rush of desire coiled in her belly.
Focus
. But focusing was hard to do when she couldn’t stop thinking about last night and the way he’d touched her with that same hand. The way he’d affected her mind, body and…heart. Clearing her throat, she looked to the list. “I’ve met with thirteen girls and don’t have anything, either.”

“Well,” Jake began, “we have what? Another seventy or so to go?”

“Unfortunately.” She looked over her shoulder just as a familiar looking brunette exited the hall. “Melissa, right?”

The girl smiled. “Yeah, hi.” She looked at Jake. “Um…Jake, I don’t know where I am on the list, but can you either take my statement now, or maybe we can talk later? My tutor is going to be here any minute and I have an exam in an hour.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, sending in a chilly breeze. The security guard manning the front desk looked up from his paperwork and grinned. “Hi, Kaylie.”

Kaylie returned the grin, but her smile fell when she noticed them. “Melissa,” she said as she signed the guest roster. “Are we still on, or is this a bad time?”

Melissa gave Jake some pretty effective puppy dog eyes. “I’ll be at the Sheriff’s Department this afternoon. I’m relieving Abby at two. Can we talk then? Please? I’m not doing well in my anthropology class and Kaylie…” She glanced at the other woman. “She rearranged her morning to work with me.”

Jake nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll catch up later. Good luck on your test.”

Beaming, Melissa turned to Kaylie. “Come on. Let’s study in my dorm room.”

After the two women exited the foyer, Rachel turned her attention to Jake and Owen. “Okay, about those seventy girls…”

Jake shook his head. “I’m starting to wish I’d skipped this. Dealing with another pain in the ass council meeting is sounding better and better.”

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. “Were the girls asking you for relationship advice? I know I had a few. Either some of them haven’t heard about Bill yet—which I find shocking considering he used to work here—or they’re just that self-centered and clueless.”

Smiling, Jake nodded. “Actually, two did. And I’m going with self-centered. How about you, Owen?”

Owen looked toward the gathering room where the door stood open. Several of the girls craned their necks and Rachel knew they were looking at Owen. Those pretty, young co-eds could look their fill. She certainly had last night, and while she knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, she hoped for an opportunity to do it again later. The chances of anything more than sex happening between them were probably slim to none.
 

She’d never had a relationship based solely on sex. Just the thought of it didn’t sit well with her. She might not be the greatest catch, but she knew she deserved better than being a man’s fuck buddy. All she had to do was look at her mother. The woman had been and always would be a serial dater. Jumping from one slick talking man to another, using her body to hold them, trap them and when they grew tired of her and had tossed her aside…she’d be off to find her next conquest.
 

No. She might be half in love with Owen, and despite the tragedy they’d dealt with during the day, last night might have been one of the best nights of her life. But she wanted more from him than just sex. The question was… did he?

He looked away from the gathering room and met her gaze. The heat in his eyes brought back a rush of memories. The way he’d held her, glided her over his thick erection, made her come apart…made her come alive.

“Nope. No one was asking me for relationship advice,” he said, his eyes still on hers. “A couple of them did try to give me their cell phone number.”

Jealousy momentarily tightened her chest. “Really? I mean, huh. That’s…forward, but I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. You’re single and well, you look…well, like you.” She’d wanted to say he looked hot, sexy. That his smile was enough to make a woman melt and his eyes had a way of making her heart trip. Add on all those muscles hidden beneath his sweater and he was the perfect male specimen. Fortunately, she caught Jake practically gaping at her and she’d managed to stop herself from looking like one of Owen’s many adoring admirers.

“He is kind of pretty,” Jake said with a grin. He brushed past them and entered the gathering room, calling out the next name on his list.

To avoid the awkward situation she’d stupidly brought on herself, she began to follow Jake. But Owen moved past her, then paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Who said anything about being single?”
 

As he went inside the gathering room, she remained in the foyer. Too stunned to move, too shocked to gather her thoughts and focus on the next interview.
 

Who said anything about being single?

Hope and longing pulsated throughout her body, making her legs weak and her mind thick and foggy. She didn’t know what to think or how to react. The man she’d wanted, been half in love with for nearly four years just implied that they were…
together
. As much as she’d fantasized about being with him—on every level—her skin grew clammy with panic and anxiety. Men didn’t stick around, her mother’s love life was the proof. Would Owen? And if he didn’t, how could they continue to work together? She loved working for CORE, for Ian, and had no intention of going anywhere else.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the security guard asked her.

She nodded. “I’m good,” she lied. Because Owen’s cryptic remark had just rocked her world. Her safe, boring world. She might have craved action and adventure, and being in a relationship with Owen would definitely be action packed and adventurous, but safe and boring would at least keep her heart intact.

*

Bunny fluttered around my room, a big smile on her pretty face. “I’m so excited,” she said, then glanced to the table. When she’d first arrived, Bunny had burst into my room with an orderly carrying a computer. It had taken her the past forty minutes to set everything up, and during that time she’d explained that this computer would become my lifeline to the world.

I’m still not sure what she’s talking about, but her excitement is infectious. Instead of dwelling on the worry and anxiety of finally revealing my name, anticipation runs through my veins and has my belly burning with a sensation that has been hard to maintain. Hope.

“Okay,” she said, propped her hands on her slender hips and eyed the table and equipment. “I think we’re all set.” She looked at me, her eyes bright and eager. “Are you ready?”

I released a pitiful grunt and blinked my eyes.

“Excellent.” She maneuvered my wheel chair until I sat directly in front of the computer. From behind me, I heard her snap something onto the back of the wheel chair, then she moved to my side holding a couple of cords. “I’m just going to plug this into here…turn this on, and…yes,” she said with a triumphant hiss. “Okay, Jane. And I hope this is the last time I’m going to call you that, unless of course your real name is Jane.” She grinned, then raised a thin, mechanical arm from the wheel chair. Fastened to the arm was a small box with what looked like straws sticking up from the center.
 

“Now, I told you you’d be talking today, but I’m not going to lie. You’ll have to work for it.”

Despite last night’s worries, I’d do whatever she asked. To be able to talk, to voice my thoughts…until I’d come to this point in my life, I had taken the value of communication for granted. How without it, life could be lonely, desolate, bleak.
 

“This is a sip and puff, mouse controlled joystick. It’s going to take some practice, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll be reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in no time.” She moved the straws to my mouth. “Think of these as a sort of mouth stick. When you move the stick to the left, it’ll direct the mouse to the left side of the computer monitor, move the stick down, and the mouse will move to the bottom of the monitor.” She pointed to the monitor. “This is an online keyboard. All you need to do is move the mouse to the letter you want and click. To click, you just need to sip or puff into the stick. There’s a voice synthesizer attached to the computer, but we’ll hold off on that for now and save that for when you’re ready to talk up a storm.” She put one stick in my mouth. “Okay, give it a shot.”

Only recently I’ve been able to drink from a straw. My therapist, Olivia, along with my last speech therapist forced me to practice several times a day. While I loved coating my mouth with whatever cool, refreshing liquid they’d given me, the process had ended up being clumsy, messy and embarrassing. The liquid had dribbled down my chin and soaked my hospital gown, leaving me feeling like a drooling idiot. But there was no liquid at the other end of this “straw.” Only hope.

“Use your tongue to nudge the stick,” Bunny encouraged.

As I did what she suggested, my heart pounded hard and I swear my fingertips tingled as if they wanted to toss the stick aside and tap the keyboards. But that wasn’t a possibility right now, if ever. With that daunting thought in mind, I forced my tongue down. The cursor moved downward and settled on the letter G. I nudged the stick again and the cursor landed on the letter V. Excitement had my chest tightening and my lungs constricting. I drew in a deep breath to slow my racing heart and waylay my anxiousness.

“Very good,” Bunny praised. “One letter down.”

Glancing at the screen, I realized that in sucking in a deep breath, I’d inadvertently “clicked” the mouse stick. Encouraged and determined as hell, I nudged my tongue again. Up, up, then over a few times until the cursor hovered over the letter I. As I continued with the tedious tongue-nudging task, my name—my real name—suddenly hovered on the screen above the letters I’d painstakingly typed. It had been so long since I’d seen my name, I gasped, which caused the stick to “click” on the letters and finish my name for me.

“Vivian,” Bunny whispered, then crouched next to me. “Your name is Vivian?”

My throat tightened as tears momentarily blurred my vision. Grunting, I blinked.

“Your name is beautiful.” Tears swam in Bunny’s eyes as she gave me a watery smile. “But if we’re to do a proper introduction, we’ll need a last name. Are you ready, or do you need to take a break?”

Only a power outage could stop me. Seeing my name, knowing I would no longer be Jane or Janie to the world, gave me encouragement. It put a fire in my belly that would not be doused. Inner strength that I’d thought no longer existed, surfaced. A week ago, I wanted to die. Trapped in a useless body, I wanted to fall asleep and never waken. But as I moved the straw, my tongue flexing and more controlled now that I was exercising it, I started typing my last name.

“Keep up the good work,” Bunny urged me on while staring at the monitor. “Once we have your last name, we can contact your family. I can’t imagine how much they’ve worried about you.”

I momentarily paused and shifted my eyes toward her, wishing I could type faster and tell her the truth. No one was looking for me. My fanatically religious parents had disowned me when I’d had a child out of wedlock, and both had passed on years ago. I had no siblings. No extended family. Until eighteen months ago, all I had was my husband and daughter.