THE MISSING (L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Book 4) (23 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

“LUKE!” Abe shouted into his wire. “Julianna isn’t answering.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.”

“I’ve got all the cameras working. Everything seems okay. She said she’s coming out.”

“That was sixty seconds ago. Where is she?”

“I heard her say something to Balboa. She’s calming him down.” Then Luke saw movement near the side of the barn. A horse rounded the corner. Stella Hancock.

“What the hell—” Abe spat out.

A gunshot rang out. Then another.

Luke saw Stella slide off her mount and run into the barn. He bolted out the door, gun in hand. “Cover me, Pops.”

“Stella’s inside,” Abe hollered. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Luke.”

Luke reached the half-open door and hearing a man’s voice, he froze.

“You can’t shoot me, old woman. If you do, your friend here is dead.”

His heart in his throat, Luke crept around the corner to the window and eased himself up. Jules was sprawled on the floor, a man standing over her with a gun, while Stella Hancock pointed her weapon at him. Jules wasn’t dead or the man wouldn’t be dealing with Stella. But she looked badly hurt.

Anger induced adrenaline burned through Luke’s veins. If anything happened to Jules… It was his fault. He never should’ve allowed her to do this.

It took everything in his power not to rush inside. If he did, the guy might panic and shoot. His hands shook as he readied his gun. He had to stay calm. Think. Dammit. He wasn’t in any position to get off a shot, not without endangering Jules and Stella. But it was the only way.

He aimed dead on and pulled the trigger.

Almost simultaneously another shot rang out. The man crumpled. Luke raced for the door. As he tore inside, he saw Abe at the back of the barn, rifle in hand.

JULIANNA AWAKENED to bright lights and the dry scent of alcohol. The first thing she saw was a big vase of roses next to the bed…and then Luke’s face came into focus.

“Hi,” he said.

She gave a tentative smile. “I’m alive? Or is this a dream?”

“You’re alive.”

“My head hurts.”

“The doc says you’ll have a sore leg and a headache for a little while.”

She glanced down at her leg but the covers blocked her view. She reached for her head and touched a gauzy fabric. Bandages.

“It was a clean wound on the leg, the doc said. The head wound is minor, a graze. A week or two and you should be as good as new.”

Luke smiled, but his eyes looked sad.

“Did we get the bad guy?”

Luke nodded. “He’s behind bars as we speak. My dad had called the sheriff immediately after we heard the shots, and Yuma was there before the ambulance.”

Julianna pushed up on her elbows and Luke came closer to help her, puffing up the pillow behind her head. “I got the gun,” Julianna said. “But he overpowered me. I think it went off and hit my leg. I don’t remember exactly.”

“You’re alive, that’s all that counts.”

“A lot of good that gun training did, huh?” Her leg throbbed and her head hurt, but it didn’t matter. The sicko was in jail.

Luke gently sat on the bed. “You had a narrow escape.”

“What happened after Stella came in? It’s all a blur in my head.”

“We’re still not clear on it either. But what we do know is that he was taking aim when Stella made an appearance. She surprised him enough so when he shot you, the bullet only grazed your head. I heard the first shot, but when I got there, I saw Stella had her gun on him. Just as I was taking aim, our bad guy went down.”

“Who—?”

“Abe.” Luke gave her a big, proud smile. “The old guy is still a crack shot. He’d come in from the back.”

“Where is he now?”

“Out in the hall with Stella. You up for seeing them?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll send them in.”

He stood, started to go, but she caught his sleeve. “The man. He was the one who came for the interview. I recognized him. He was right there in the house.” The horror of it hit her.

“We’re still getting the facts together, but we’re pretty sure we have—” Luke’s voice cracked “—the person who took Michael from us.”

Seeing the pain in Luke’s eyes, tears welled in her own. That they might finally have justice for Michael… She shook her head. It was too much. All too much. She pressed her face into her hands, tears suddenly streaming. Luke wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, his face in her hair. And then his body began to shake.

They shared bittersweet tears, sadness mingled with the knowledge that finally there was closure for Michael. Their son was at peace with the angels and now, God willing, maybe they could find peace themselves.

After what seemed like an eon, Luke rubbed his eyes with his shirtsleeve and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. He stood, ready to leave.

“There’s someone else here, too. Your friend Mark. He was instrumental in identifying the guy.”

“Mark?”

“He said you asked him about a professor at the university. He got the name and when he couldn’t get hold of you on the phone, he e-mailed it to you. Rico picked up on it and with some other e-mail data he’d received, they got a search warrant for the professor’s house. While the psycho was at the ranch, they were collecting evidence from his place.”

Choking on his words, Luke shoved a hand through his hair. She’d never seen him like this before. Not even when Michael had disappeared. He’d always kept his emotions buried.

“They found a knife with animal blood on it and figured it’s probably the calf. No clue why unless it was a scare tactic.” He took a big breath and then went on. “So far they’ve collected enough evidence to put the guy on death row. His name is Anton Orion. Hence the star clue. Weird, I know.”

She put a hand up to stop him from saying any more. She was familiar with all the cases from her research. She didn’t want any more details, she didn’t even want to know if they’d found anything that belonged to Michael. Not now. It was enough that their beautiful son would finally rest in peace.

She wasn’t sure Luke could handle telling her either, and her heart ached at seeing him in so much pain. Between that and the wrenching emotion of knowing they’d finally found justice for their son, words simply wouldn’t come.

Their eyes met in a mix of emotions. And then Luke turned and walked out the door.

~~~

THREE DAYS LATER, Luke paced across the patio as he waited for Julianna to arrive and get her things. She’d told him her friend Mark would give her a ride from the hospital because they had a lot to talk about.

Just as well. He’d had time to do some thinking. And had managed to find someone to stay with his father. Someone Stella knew, and Abe seemed okay with that.

“Pacing won’t solve any problems, son.”

Luke turned and saw Abe settling himself on a chair. “It’s cold out here, Pops. Might not be a good idea for you since you’ve—”

“Maybe for you it’s cold, but it isn’t to me. I’ve lived here all my life and I can handle a little chill.”

Luke raised his hands. “Okay. Okay.”

After a moment of silence Abe said, “Waiting for Julianna?”

“Yes. She’s going back to San Francisco.”

“You sure she wants to do that?”

He looked at his father. “That’s what she said. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Because people don’t always say what they mean, that’s why.”

Yeah, Abe had told him that before. Was there something he knew that Luke didn’t? “She’s with her…friend from San Francisco.”

“So?”

“So, that’s what she wants.”

“Is it what you want?”

He wanted to punch something. That’s what he wanted. His emotions, his heart, had been pulled inside out like an old shirt and tossed in the trash. Still pacing, he raked a hand through his hair. “Hell no. But what I want for me doesn’t matter. I want her to be happy, even if that means she’s with someone else.”

“Well, that sounds noble as all get-out.”

This was ridiculous. How could his father, a man who never went anywhere, had hardly had a decent conversation with anyone in twenty years have any clue what he was feeling? “It’s not noble. It’s reality.”

“So you’re saying that you love Julianna, but instead of telling her, you’d rather see her with someone else?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” And talking to his dad was pointless.

“Then maybe you should forget your high-falutin’ pride and tell her.”

“Pride?” Luke scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you say. My theory is that if we want something bad enough, we just have to bite the bullet and ask for it, even if the result might hurt like hell.”

“And you live by those words?”

Abe’s expression turned thoughtful. “No. I haven’t for years. That’s how I know. But, you know what, I plan to do just that. The other night made me realize I’ve wasted a lot of time. But I’m not going to squander what little I have left. Not if there’s one iota of a chance I can do something about it.”

Luke heard gravel crunch in the drive, saw a truck pull up. It was Stella’s truck. He watched as the woman got out and then came around to the passenger side. She opened the door and his jaw dropped. Jules, holding a cane in one hand, turned to get out. Stella reached to help her.

Luke practically sprinted through the patio gate to the truck. “What’s going on? Where’s Mark?”

“If you let me come inside, I’ll tell you.”

Luke blanched. “Sorry. Here, let me help you.”

Stella moved out of the way and just as Luke took Julianna’s arm to help her, Abe sidled up.

“Hello, Abraham,” Stella said.

Once Jules was on her feet, Luke scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the house. He didn’t want to hear what his father had to say to Stella. How could he feel good about a woman his father had an affair with while Luke’s mother was dying?

But as he thought it, the bitter emotion he’d carried for so long just wasn’t there. It seemed unimportant now. He’d almost lost Jules, and the significance of that made everything else pale in comparison.

Was it wrong for his father to want to share the time he had left with someone he’d once loved? Still loved apparently. No, Luke realized. There was nothing wrong with that at all. And he’d give anything to do the same with Jules.

As they went inside, Julianna’s cheek brushed against Luke’s. He inhaled, breathing in—for possibly the last time—the scent he remembered so well. Remembered even in his sleep.

What he wouldn’t give to erase all the heartache between them. He heard Stella and his father laughing in the background and, in that single moment, he realized he had to let go of the past. There was no going back. There was only the future.

Inside, he put Jules on her feet and before she had a chance to speak, he said, “Wouldn’t it be better to stay a few more days to recoup?”

“Maybe.”

“Abe would like it.”

“And you?”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” She looked down, then started for her room. “I think I’d like to rest right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

Watching her hobble down the hall and close her door, Luke banged his palm on the table. Dammit. Why did everything have to be so hard? Why did loving someone have to hurt so much?

He went to the cabinets and searching for a glass, he found a bottle of Jack Daniels. His adrenaline surged. He picked it up, stared at the label. A sudden, urgent need gripped him. One drink. It wouldn’t hurt. Everything else in his life was so screwed up, it would feel good to find oblivion for a little while.

He needed a drink. Badly. He could almost feel the smooth, yet biting liquid sliding down his throat. One drink. He gripped the bottle tighter and tighter until his hand started to shake. A vision of Julianna and Michael flashed through his head. A powerful vision. And that was all he needed to place the bottle back on the shelf.

Pride, his father said. Was that what was keeping him from telling Jules he loved her. Still. He didn’t think so.

But how would he know unless he told her?

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

SHE MUST’VE DRIFTED OFF, Julianna realized when she awoke two hours later. She’d been dreaming, not the anxious, fearful dreams she’d been having for the last month, but dreams of angels and exotic places. Of Michael and Luke and of playing on the beach together. For five years whenever she’d dreamed of them, she woke up in a sweat, anxious and tearful.

But this dream was soothing and wonderful. They’d been a family, the kind of family she’d always longed for.

But it could never be that way. Luke’s job was his main focus, and as much as she wanted things to be different, they never would. She knew it. Luke knew it. The only person who didn’t know it was Abe.

Still, as she stretched out her arms and legs, a soothing sense of calm settled within, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. How long had it been since she’d awakened smiling? Even before the threats, she’d been an anxious person. Or maybe driven was a more apt description.

She’d been relentless in her research, gathering information from families and other sources, writing article after article on the missing children, so relentless she didn’t even have a life outside her stories. Luke was right, she was obsessed.

She could’ve died because of it. So, what was she going to do? Go back to being obsessed? No. She’d been existing. Not living. She didn’t want to live like that anymore. But keeping the stories in the public eye was important. Who would do it if she didn’t? Still, when Mark told her he wanted the series to end, that he wanted her to focus on something else for a while, other stories that were equally important, she’d felt a strange release, like a heavy weight had been lifted.

Had she only been doing it for Michael? Had she convinced herself she had all these altruistic motives, when her goal had really been selfish? Had she been living a lie?

By the time she’d left the hospital, the thought that she was a fake ate at her like an insidious brain disease. If she didn’t write about missing children, what was she going to write about? Who was she?

Her cell phone rang. She gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin. Then she remembered the man who’d been threatening her, the serial killer, was in jail. She pushed to a sitting position. “Hello.”

“Julianna Chevalair? This is Tomas Black from NBC News.”

Hearing a knock at the door, she said into the phone, “Excuse me,” then, “Come in.” She’d had police at the hospital to intercept the media and hadn’t anticipated them calling here. But of course they’d want all the information they could get.

As Luke entered the room, she handed him the phone. “It’s NBC News. I have no idea how they got this number.”

“This is Detective Luke Coltrane, LAPD. Can I help you?”

Julianna listened as Luke told the reporter the police didn’t want to compromise the case and they’d release more information when they could.

“Thanks,” she said after Luke hung up. “I never know what to say in situations like that.”

He came over to the bed. “No comment usually works.”

She smiled then pointed to the bottom of the bed. “Sit down.”

Instead, Luke pulled up a chair. “Don’t want to bump your leg.”

He looked serious, as if he had something disturbing to say. “The doc said the bullet went right through. It’s fine.”

A hollow silence filled the air.

“How’s Abe?” Julianna finally said. “I heard him talking to Stella.”

“They’ve gone riding. I think Abe has something important to say to her.”

“She loves him, you know.”

“I’m getting the drift.”

“I know you don’t like her, but it would be good for him to have someone. I mean someone he cares about—not a hired hand.”

A petal from one of the roses in the vase fell off onto the bed. Luke picked it up, and holding it between two fingers, he studied the petal. “Nice flowers,” he said.

“They are. Mark is a sweetheart. A little intense sometimes, but his heart is in the right place.”

He pulled closer. “And where is that?”

She frowned. “Where is what?”

“His heart. Your heart. Are you in love with him?”

She stifled an incredulous croak. “With Mark? Whatever gave you that idea?”

When he didn’t say anything and she saw the look in his eyes, her pulse leaped. She said softly, “Would it matter if I was?”

Luke’s eyes locked with hers “Yes. It matters because I can’t imagine you with anyone but me.” Still looking at her, he stood, shoved his hands in his front pockets. “It matters because I’m still in love with you, Jules.”

He what? Love? He was still in love with… Her mind went blank. Words stuck on the back of her tongue. She wanted to say she was still in love with him, too, but—
But what?

“I never stopped loving you, Julianna, and if there’s any chance for us, I’d do just about anything to make it happen.”

But—what would happen if every time she looked at Luke she thought of Michael and what they’d lost? It had been like that at the end. She couldn’t deal with the guilt and the shame. What would happen when he was away every night and she was alone in that house?

When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “I don’t have any big epiphanies about what happened between us except that I let you down. When I couldn’t find Michael, even using all my expertise, I felt so inadequate. I couldn’t live with that and that’s when the drinking got out of hand. I—I failed you. I failed Michael and our marriage.”

She placed a hand over his lips. Tears welled in her eyes. Oh, God. Her heart ached for Luke. She’d been so caught up in her own pain she hadn’t recognized the extent of his. He was the stoic cop. Always in control. How could she have not seen how much he hurt? No wonder they couldn’t help each other. How could they when they couldn’t help themselves?

She took his hand in hers, blinked back the flood of tears about to burst if she let them.

“Then we both felt inadequate, Luke. You told me before that I wasn’t to blame, you told me many times. But
I
knew I was and I couldn’t live with that. Every time I looked at you I was reminded of it. Reminded of Michael. That’s why I left.”

His eyes searched hers. He steepled his fingers at his chin. She could almost see his mind clicking.

Finally he said, “Remember that night on the beach when you said you could feel Michael in the wind? That it felt like his arms wrapping around you?”

She nodded.

“That’s what I feel whenever I think about him now. I didn’t at first. Like you, I railed at the injustice, I felt the sorrow so deep within me I thought I’d die from it. I wanted to forget and I found an easy way to do it. But one night when I reached for another drink, I saw Michael’s face as clearly as if he were there, and something inside me came to life. I didn’t take that drink and for a few days I kept remembering more and more. His smile, his laughter. And it was good. I realized then how blessed I was to have had him in my life, if even for a short time.

“I finally realized I didn’t need to forget. What I needed to do was remember Michael and to celebrate the happy time we had together.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“Remembering our son and the love he brought to us is important. I never want to forget that, and I don’t want to forget what we had either. We loved each other and just thinking about that love is a lot better than having nothing.” He bowed his head. “We had problems. And sometimes they seemed insurmountable. But that didn’t make me love you any less. I cherish the love we had, Julianna. I always will.”

Julianna reached for him. He’d revealed more in the past thirty seconds than he had in the whole time they’d been married. If she’d ever doubted his love for her, she couldn’t now. Her heart broke for him and for her and all they once had. He was right. They’d had love. They’d had love and hope and a future and she’d thrown it away.

Like a bright sunrise lighting up inside, she knew Luke was right. She didn’t need to forget, she needed to remember. She needed to remember all that was wonderful between them. Including Michael. Everything else was an excuse. An excuse to run away just as she’d done when she’d left home to marry him.

God, it was all so clear now. Though she’d loved Luke with all her heart, she was the one who’d married for the wrong reasons. Not him.

Dangling her feet over the edge of the bed, she tried to stand, wobbling as she did. Luke caught her and they both landed in the chair, her on his lap.

He held her tight in his embrace, as if he might lose her again if he let go, and then he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

She pressed her lips against his head in a gentle kiss, and in doing so, released a frail hope.

Drawing back to look at him she said, “Luke, when I left, it wasn’t because of you or your drinking or anything else you did,” she said, her voice hoarse with tears. “It had nothing to do with my feelings for you. I loved you then and I still do,” she whispered. “With all my heart.”

He pulled back. “And I you. I never stopped.” His lips met hers. Softly, sweetly, lovingly, and in that moment, all the longing and the passions, all the emotions she’d denied herself for so long rose up inside. The pain and sorrow of the past dimmed in the wake of hope.

It had been so long since she’d felt hopeful. So long since she’d even thought about more than one day at a time.

Her future was with Luke. Their future was together. It had always been. No, they wouldn’t ever get over the loss of their son. But Michael had been the culmination of their love, and he deserved that love to continue.

And when Luke kissed her again, her heart swelled with love—and the promise of tomorrow.