Vanished (15 page)

“Let me try. She may remember something now.”

“Fine. You can stay and eat dinner with us. Then you can interview her afterward. I'm trying my best to make everything as normal as possible.” He turned back to the refrigerator and opened it. “If you really want to help me, help me decide what to have for dinner.”

“I've got a better suggestion. You go into the den with your family while I put something together. I'll call you all when I'm through.” She stepped between him and the refrigerator, the cold air chilling her back.

He didn't leave. He stared down at her. “I don't know what I would have done without your help this past few days. You don't know how much it means to me that you're staying to work on the investigation.”

She quirked a smile. “You'd have to drag me away.”

He brought his hand up to cup her face. His touch warmed her to the tips of her toes. His gaze held hers for a long moment while he stroked his finger along her jaw. Then slowly he leaned toward her.

Madison's heartbeat kicked up a notch. Her mouth went dry as she anticipated the feel of his lips against hers. She wanted him to kiss her.

“Dad! Dad, Kim's cheating.”

Neil's voice, full of laughter, propelled J.T. back a step, his hand slipping away from her. “I'd better go referee. It doesn't take long for things to get back to normal.”

Madison watched him leave. She wished that were true. But she knew the ordeal of the past five days would stay with this family a long time. When she had seen Ashley earlier at the medical clinic where she was checked out then here at the house, the little girl acted as if she were putting on a performance for everyone to reassure them she was all right. But Madison glimpsed the terror in the child's gaze when her father wasn't looking. For the first half of the day, she hadn't left J.T.'s side.

Suddenly Madison noticed the cold. She shivered, spinning around to see what the ladies of J.T.'s church had brought for the family to eat. Throwing herself into the task of reheating and putting the food on the table was just what she needed. Then maybe she wouldn't focus on
that
moment with J.T. Even with Ashley's return, how in the world could she see herself and J.T. in any kind of relationship? Brent had hurt her so badly that she didn't want to risk that kind of pain ever again, and J.T. had a lot of baggage beyond the fact that someone was out to destroy him and his family. Besides, she decided that her job gave her the fulfillment she needed. It was much safer emotionally.

Madison pulled a chicken casserole out and stuck it into the oven. Then she went back to the refrigerator, took out the makings of a tossed green salad and found a cutting board and a large wooden bowl.

Pausing next to the sink, she grazed her fingertips across her lips. What would his kiss feel like? Probably dynamite! Suddenly she shook her head.
Can't think about that. Best if I never find out.

She turned her full attention to chopping up a cucumber, some carrots and an avocado for the salad. She was so focused that she jumped when she spied J.T. next to her.

She placed her palm over her heart. “You scared me.”

“For the next few hours let's promise each other not to think about the case. This family needs to celebrate. I don't want to ruin this moment for my children.”

“Deal.” Thankfully he assumed she'd been thinking about the case. There was no way she would tell him he had been the center of her thoughts. Even while dicing the vegetables, she couldn't rid her mind of the dreamy look that entered his eyes as he dipped his head toward her.

“Do you need any help?” He took several sodas from the refrigerator. “Want one?”

“No. You go be with your kids. I won't be long.”

As he left, the smile he sent her went straight down her length, making every inch of her tingle. She saw the goose bumps on her arms and was so glad J.T. hadn't. Long ago she had promised herself she would never be attracted to anyone she worked with, especially a partner. It complicated a difficult situation. She knew J.T. wasn't technically her partner and they didn't usually work together, but for the time being she felt they were a team working to solve the case.

What about afterward? an inner voice asked.

Afterward, she would go back to her job in Chicago,
a dream job she had worked hard to get ever since her older brother's killer, a gang member who had driven by and shot at innocent bystanders, had been brought to justice by an FBI agent. Her brother's murder had left a hole in her life that she filled with visions of becoming an agent one day and being there for other families dealing with senseless deaths.

Yes, that was what she needed to concentrate on. Not J.T.'s look or what his kiss might feel like. She'd just gotten her life the way she wanted and that didn't include a man who was a recovering alcoholic.

She stored the finished salad in the refrigerator, then headed for the den to join J.T. and the children until the casserole was heated. For a few hours she would enjoy being part of a family.

Seated around a game table, J.T., Neil, Kim and Ashley were immersed in a wild game of Monopoly. J.T. waved Madison over. “Join us. You can be the banker.”

She drew up a chair from the desk. “My kind of job. I like handling the money. A position of power.”

Laughter flowed around the table with even Ashley's giggle peppering the air. But being next to the eight-year-old, Madison noticed what no one else saw—the child's tight grip on the side of the chair. When Madison listened closely, she heard the forced lightness in the family's words, especially J.T.'s. Her worry increased. Like Ashley, he was putting up a front for the benefit of his children. But Madison glimpsed the cracks in his armor—a clenched jaw, a narrowed glint, a faraway look, furtive glances toward the window. He had declared no thoughts concerning the case, but his mind
wouldn't cooperate if the subdued stress in him was any indication.

“Aha! You owe me big-time!” Neil flipped his deed card over and announced an amount that would bankrupt Kim.

“Daddy, can I borrow some money from you? You're rich.”

“Sure.” J.T. counted some paper bills and slid them across the table to his middle child.

“Dad, you can't do that!”

“I can do whatever I want with my money, son.” J.T. grinned, the gesture actually reaching deep into his eyes.

Madison melted back against the chair. That look, although not for her, caused her stomach to flip-flop. His smile was beautiful, the kind that lit his whole face.

“Yeah!” Kim stuck her tongue out at her brother.

Ashley dropped her head, her gaze glued to her lap. When the room became quiet, she looked up. “Kim, I don't want to play anymore. You can have my money, too.” Ashley's whispers could barely be heard.

Instead of taking the money and property, Kim stared at her younger sister, uncertainty in her eyes. “That's okay. I'm getting tired of playing, too.”

Madison rose. “Actually I think dinner is ready.”

Ten minutes later Madison took a chair between Kim and Ashley, the aroma of the chicken infusing the air with promises of a delicious meal. Everyone linked hands while J.T. said grace, then quickly the dishes were passed around the table.

J.T. and Neil launched into a discussion of Neil's baseball team and their last game coming up that Saturday. Madison tried to follow the conversation, but sports wasn't
her thing. When the male agents talked about the different teams they rooted for, it took every effort on her part not to have her eyes glaze over with boredom.

At the end Neil glanced from Ashley to Kim. “I know you two don't like baseball much, but I hope you'll come this Saturday to see me pitch.”

Kim groaned and threw a look at Ashley. “I will if you will.”

J.T.'s youngest nodded. She drew circles with her fork in the chicken casserole, but Madison noticed the child hadn't taken more than two bites.

Madison sipped her ice water. “Ashley, I can fix you something else to eat if you don't want the chicken.” When the little girl didn't say anything but continued to move the food around on her plate, she added, “I saw some peanut butter in the pantry and strawberry jam in the fridge. I could fix you a sandwich if you want.”

Ashley's fork clanged to the plate. She raised wide eyes to Madison. “No! No, I hate peanut butter!”

“Honey, since when? You always—”

The child bolted to her feet, the sound of her chair crashing to the floor cutting off the rest of J.T.'s sentence. “I hate it!” Ashley raced from the room.

J.T. shot out of his seat. “Neil and Kim, clean up. I'll see to Ashley.”

The helpless look he gave Madison right before he left the kitchen slashed through all her resolve to keep her distance. How could she when he was hurting so badly, when his whole family was?

But, God, what can I do? I have no experience with a family.

Day six, 8:30 p.m.: Ashley found twelve and a half hours ago

J.T.
sat on Ashley's bed, leaning against the headboard, while he held his daughter tightly against him and stroked her back. Her sobs had finally quieted to whimpers, but each sound from her cut him to the core.

He was in over his head. First thing tomorrow he would call Colin and see if he could counsel Ashley. Each word he had tried only increased her cries. In his euphoria that his daughter was home safe and physically unscathed, he neglected the mental anguish she experienced. He knew better, but he had still been focused on bringing the kidnapper to justice, not healing his family. Would he ever learn? Guilt, always there under the surface, reared up and knifed him in the heart.

He was just so tired and spent. Trying to get his family's life back to normal had taken its toll on him—and Ashley. It wasn't normal. And until he caught the man responsible, it never would be. A threat hung over
his family. He clamped his jaw tightly together. He would do anything humanly possible to see that threat removed.

“I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry.” He continued to rub his hand up and down Ashley's back.

The whimpering eased. She moved in his arms.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Ashley lifted her head from his chest and leaned back to look up at him. Her red swollen eyes proclaimed his inability to protect his family against a monster. Feelings he hadn't had in six years, all tied up in guilt, continued to swamp him, threatening to take him under.

“I prayed—” she sniffed “—for you to come get me.”

“Oh, baby, God heard. You're here now, safe.” His hand trembling, he combed tear-damp hair away from her face.

“I was…” Her eyes glistened. She sucked in a shallow, shaky breath. “I was…scared. It was so dark and cold.”

Something died in J.T. as he listened to his daughter, her tears again streaming down her face. As quickly as he brushed them away, they returned flowing freely. Finally he gave up and pulled her against him, never wanting to release her from the shelter of his arms.

How was he going to do his job when he didn't want to leave her? How was he going to find the monster and make him pay? He needed help.

At that moment he peered toward the open door into Ashley's room and saw Madison framed in the entrance, sorrow in her expression. She entered and sat in the rocking chair a few feet from the bed.

Finally Ashley realized that Madison was there and sat up, drying her face with the back of her hand. His daughter sniffled.

“Hi.” Madison smiled, but the corners of her mouth quivered. “I noticed some sugar cookies in the kitchen. Kim told me you love Mrs. Goldsmith's cookies. Would you like them and some milk?”

“Yes, please.”

While Madison left to get the food, J.T. took his daughter's face in his hands. “I won't let anything happen to you, Ashley. I'll find the person who did this to you.”

When Madison came back into the room, Ashley scooted to the edge near her bedside table where Madison set the plate and drink. The child picked up a sugar cookie and broke it into two pieces. A frown scrunched her forehead as the little girl brought one of the bits to her nose and sniffed it.

Ashley dropped the cookie. “I don't want it. I remember that smell in the basement.” She pushed the plate away.

Madison rushed forward and caught the glass before the milk tipped over. She sat next to Ashley. “What do you mean this smells like where you were?”

Ashley tilted her head to the side and screwed up her face in a thoughtful expression. “It reminds me of a smell I smelled when I was eating my last meal.” She placed a hand over her stomach, bending forward. “I don't like that smell. Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Day six, 11:00 p.m.: Ashley found fifteen hours ago

Later that night J.T. entered his office after saying good-night to Madison an hour ago at his house. The
bright overhead light assaulted his tired, burning eyes. After he flipped off the switch, he tugged on the chain to the small lamp on his desk, then pulled closed the blinds to his large picture window. He collapsed into his padded desk chair, the force of the movement rolling it a few inches.

He leaned forward, thankful that Rachel had volunteered to stay at his house while he came down to the station to see if he could make any sense out of the myriad of clues in the case. Who was he kidding? Their various leads pointed to no single person. Not one name leaped off the list as the one who was responsible. He felt like Moses wandering in the desert with no idea his final destination.

With his elbows planted on his desk, he buried his face in his hands. Sleep had evaded him yet again. He couldn't get the sound of his daughter's sobs out of his thoughts. Each one had wrenched him with anguish. He'd let Ashley down. She'd suffered for five days because he couldn't find her. In fact, if the kidnapper hadn't let her go, she would still be with him. That realization shook him to his core.

What good was being a sheriff if he couldn't help his family? Being a law enforcement officer was why his daughter was taken. The monster couldn't seek revenge against him. No, he had to come after his children.

What kind of God condoned this?

The question he'd kept pushed back came unbidden into his mind. It mocked the years he had tried to do everything right. The years he hadn't taken a drink. He desperately wanted one at the moment.

He stared down at his hands that quaked with the
force of his need. One drink to steady his nerves, to help him sleep.

He rose and retrieved the car keys from his pocket. He'd passed the liquor store on his way to the station. He remembered its neon sign beckoning him earlier. If he hurried, he could make it right before it closed.

This is only the beginning.
Those words, written by the kidnapper, seared their threat into his brain.

Only one drink.

Hands trembling, he reached for the handle and opened his office door.

Day six, 11:00 p.m.: Ashley found fifteen hours ago

Vanilla! Madison shot up in bed, darkness surrounding her in her motel room. Sugar cookies had a lot of vanilla in them. That was the scent Ashley probably smelled, which meant they might be looking for a woman. At least they needed to consider the possibility.

She tore back the covers and switched on the light. She wanted to take another look at the original list of people whom J.T. had been responsible for putting in prison. She thought she had seen a couple of women's names on the list. Why did they rule them out?

Quickly, she dressed and snatched up her keys. A moment later she started her car and headed for the sheriff's office. Excitement bubbled through her. This might be the break they were looking for. They needed something to point them in the right direction. She
didn't associate the scent of vanilla with men. Definitely a woman could be involved.

As she pulled onto Lakeshore Drive, in the distance she noticed J.T.'s Jeep parked in his usual space. He was supposed to get a good night's sleep for the first time in days. Why was he here? He needed to take care of himself better, and she intended to tell him that when she saw him.

As she neared the station, J.T. became visible in his Jeep, sitting behind the steering wheel, his head sagging forward. He should be asleep.

Hurriedly she parked next to him and clambered out of her car. J.T. didn't budge. A sudden alarm prodded her steps to quicken.
Why was he here?

She rapped on his window. J.T. sat unmoving, staring at an open bottle of whiskey cradled in his lap. He didn't look up at her. Her alarm skyrocketed.

She yanked the door open. “J.T., don't. This isn't the answer.”

He blinked, as though he finally realized she was there, and glanced at her. The light from the building underscored his haunted expression.

She leaned in, wanting desperately to snatch the bottle from his grasp, but his fingers were locked about the uncapped liquor. “Talk to me.”

His shoulders hunched. With his free hand, he kneaded his neck. “I worked so hard to carve a new life for myself and my family. Six years gone just like that.” Raising his gaze, he snapped his fingers. “I hadn't bought a bottle of whiskey in six years, but I did tonight. I haven't taken a drink, but I want to. I
really
want to.”

“Did it solve your problems back then or make them worse?”

A bleakness edged its way into his eyes. “Why did God do this to me and my family?”

“First, God didn't do any of this. This was caused by evil.” She got into his face, gripping his arm nearest her. “But God will help you through this. Don't shut Him out when you need Him the most. Don't let evil win.”

“Madison, do you know what it is like to hold your child in your arms and listen to her cry her heart out? I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. So alone.”

“You aren't alone. God is with you. I'm with you.” So close their breaths tangled, she rubbed her hand up and down his arm, cold skin beneath her fingertips. “C'mon, let's go for a walk. It's actually very nice tonight.” She drew him out of his Jeep.

He peered down at the whiskey, still clutched in his fist.

“If you still want a drink when we get back, then so be it. I won't stop you.”

J.T. reached into the vehicle and found the cap. After he screwed it back on the bottle, he placed the liquor in his glove compartment. Then he locked his car and walked to the station.

He poked his head in and said to Derek, “You can reach me on my cell. Call me, especially if it's Rachel.” Outside on the sidewalk, he took a deep, lung-filling breath. “Rachel's at my house, watching my kids. I thought I would come down here and work on the case since I couldn't sleep.” He sent her a wry grin. “I didn't get very far. Why did you come?”

She linked her hand with his and began strolling to
ward the park in the center of the town. “The case. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep so I thought I might get some work done on it.” This wasn't the time to discuss the kidnapping. She had something else to fight for: J.T.'s peace of mind.

The near half-moon illuminated his grin. “You and I think a lot alike.”

“Yep, it seems so.” His hand fit so naturally in hers, as if they had walked like this many times in the past and would in the future. The sensation that she belonged beside him scared her. She was in Crystal Springs temporarily. Her career and life were back in Chicago. “You know what? I can't get over how quiet it is here at night. I'm used to noise, even in the middle of the night in Chicago. How do you sleep?”

The sound of his laughter sprinkled the air like stardust. “I didn't when I first came here. But like most things in life, you get used to a change and you're all right after a time. But that first month I lost a lot of sleep. I was probably as cranky as a grizzly bear after a long winter's nap.”

“I know you are countrified if you're talking about wild animals.”

J.T. stopped at the edge of the park, near the bench they sat on only days before. “Thankfully there aren't any grizzly bears around here, but we have on occasion seen a black bear.”

“I imagine the type of bear wouldn't mean much to me as I'm running for my life.” The rumble of his laughter delighted her. “Do you want to sit here and talk?” She pointed toward the bench.

“No, I have a better place. Come with me.” He tugged her forward, cutting across the park to the other street.

“Where are we going?”

“Where I should have gone in the first place? You reminded me of that earlier.”

When she saw the Faith Community Church up ahead, it all made sense—and it was the perfect place. “You have a key?”

He increased his pace. “Don't need one. The sanctuary is never locked.”

Madison came to a dead halt, causing J.T. to stop and look back at her. “Not locked! Are you all mad?”

“I always thought it was sad that we had come to locking up our churches. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of what the church symbolizes—a haven for lost souls in time of need? That lost doesn't happen on a time schedule.”

“Beautifully put.”

“Those weren't my words. They were Colin's. He's right, though. The first few years I was here I frequented the church late at night while I wrestled with being a single dad and fighting alcoholism.” He opened the door for her to enter the foyer. “Although a recovering alcoholic, I'm always aware I'm just one drink away from being a full-fledged alcoholic again.”

In the sanctuary J.T. went to the front and sat in the first pew. “In my complacency I forgot how calming this place can be.” He let out a long sigh. “It's renewing.” He slipped his hand over hers on the seat.

For a few seconds all she could think about was the feel of his palm against her skin, then she opened her
mind to the serenity of the church, to God's spirit. Bowing her head, she prayed.
My Heavenly Father, please guide me in helping J.T. Show me the way. He hasn't come this far in his battle to give it all up now.