Have You Seen Her? (15 page)

“Well, bring him in,” Helen said brightly. “He can play with Cindy Lou.”

Jenna raised a brow. “Cindy Lou? What kind of dog is she? A poodle?”

“I wish,” Helen muttered. “No, she’s an Old English and she’s very friendly. I’m sure Matthew wouldn’t mind getting your dog from your truck.” She stood up and dusted her palms on her slacks. “Now I simply will not take no for an answer. My nephew must have inconvenienced you this weekend by knocking you down and hurting your ankle. The least we can do is feed you.”

The turkey did smell delightful. And she realized she really wanted to stay. “Okay, but I’ll get Jim from the truck. He does better with strangers when he’s been properly introduced.”

Jenna led Jim in through the Thatchers’ front door and was greeted by a small boy with a head of carrot red hair and more freckles than his round cheeks could handle. Jenna stopped and Jim automatically halted at her side. “Hello, I’m Jenna and your aunt asked me to dinner.”

The little boy looked up, his eyes carefully blank, and she remembered the newspaper accounts of the abduction of Brad’s youngest brother the spring before. This would be the child, she thought, and her heart squeezed with compassion at what he’d gone through. And was still going through, if his blank eyes were any indication. Jenna made herself smile. “And you must be Nicky.”

Nicky stared at her warily for so long that Jenna felt her face begin to twitch. Then he dropped his eyes to Jim. “Is that your dog?”

Jenna knelt on one knee and put her arm around Jim. Now she was at eye level with Nicky. “His name is Jim. Do you want to pet him?”

Nicky shuffled forward and tentatively put out his hand. “He looks like a wolf.”

“He’s a German shepherd and big for his age.” Jenna bent down and locked eyes with Jim, earning her a lick on her nose. “I can see where you might think he’s a wolf, but he’s really a baby.”

Nicky softly stroked Jim’s head. “How old is he?” “Almost two.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “You want to know a secret?”

Nicky nodded, too seriously for a little boy, and Jenna’s heart clenched again. “Jim has a brother named Jean-Luc. They’re identical twins.”

Nicky’s brown eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.” She glanced up to see Helen watching with intense interest. Apparently Nicky’s conversation was not an everyday occurrence. The thought made her feel a little warmer inside. “Do you have a dog?”

Nicky nodded, visibly relaxing a bit. “Her name is Cindy Lou. I got to name her.”

Jenna raised her brows. “Let me guess. Cindy Lou Who who was not quite two?”

Nicky nodded again, still way too solemn for a small boy. He couldn’t be more than seven.

“
The Grinch
was my favorite book when I was your age. Especially at Christmas.”

Nicky scratched behind Jim’s ears. “My daddy doesn’t like Cindy Lou very much.”

Jenna blinked, startled. Steven had seemed to like her dogs a great deal. “Why not?”

Nicky’s mouth wobbled uncertainly, then one corner lifted in an almost smile. “She likes to chew things. Usually Daddy’s things. Last week she chewed two shoes.”

“And I bet they weren’t matching shoes either.”

Nicky’s mouth curved up. “Nope. One sneaker and one church shoe.”

Jenna chuckled. “Well, I guess that would explain your daddy’s feelings, huh? I’d have a problem with Jim if he destroyed two pairs of my shoes.”

Nicky reached out and tugged Jim’s tunic. “Why does he wear this?”

“Jim’s a therapy dog. He and I go to visit sick people and Jim helps them feel better.”

Nicky’s red brows scrunched together. “How can a dog make sick people better?”

Jenna watched him scratching Jim’s ears and remembering his ordeal, carefully considered her answer. “Have you ever been afraid, Nicky?”

Nicky’s hand went still on Jim’s head. Nicky stood frozen and somehow sensing the importance, Jim didn’t move a muscle.

Jenna quietly drew a breath. “Well, sometimes sick people are afraid. They’re afraid because maybe they hurt, or maybe the doctor is about to poke them with needles. When they pat Jim’s head, it helps them forget about being afraid for a little while. And that makes them feel better.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Nicky began scratching Jim’s head again. “Then he must be a very nice dog.”

Jenna let out the breath she held. “He is. Would you mind if I let him off his lead?”

Nicky shook his head. “No, let him go. I’ll take him to meet Cindy Lou.”

Jenna stood up, watching Jim obediently follow Nicky through the kitchen. She turned to find Helen’s eyes glistening and Matt’s teasing expression replaced with a seriousness that approached Nicky’s. This entire family was hurting, she realized. She cleared her throat, forcing emotion back down. “Jim’s well trained. He won’t hurt Nicky.”

Helen blinked, then brushed the moisture from her face without shame. “I don’t doubt that, Jenna.” Her eyes brightened. “Come to the kitchen and tell me about therapy dogs while I carve the turkey.” She threw a meaningful glance toward Matt. “I will be
carving
the turkey, Matt, with a very sharp instrument. I do not recommend trying to steal a taste.”

Matt grinned, shaking off his seriousness. “But I’m very fast.”

Helen shrugged. “As long as you don’t feel you need those fingers. Come along, Jenna.”

“Wait.”

Jenna stopped in her tracks and looked up the stairs. Brad stood at the top, his hand massaging the back of his neck, his face grizzled with at least two days’ beard. He descended the stairs with a shuffling step and came to a stop in front of her.

“Dr. Marshall.”

Jenna studied him up close, seeing the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. “Brad,” she said softly. “I was hoping I’d see you. I left my briefcase in your dad’s car Friday when he gave me a ride home after school.”

He looked down at her feet, then back up, his eyes alert and discerning despite the dark circles. “What happened to your car?”

Jenna lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Somebody vandalized it. Slashed the tires.”

His brown eyes flashed and his jaw hardened. “Rudy Lutz. Lousy scum.”

She shrugged again. “Maybe. But it’s already fixed.” She smiled at him, as gently as she could. “How are you, Brad? I missed you in class on Friday.”

He looked away. “I couldn’t stay.” His voice was harsh with what sounded like self-rebuke and Jenna’s heart softened.

She squeezed his shoulder. “We can talk about it on Monday.”

Brad turned his head in the direction Nicky had gone. “I heard you talk to my brother.”

“He’s a cute little boy.”

“Yeah.” Brad turned back and met her eyes directly and again Jenna felt his misery, a palpable pressure against her heart. “He doesn’t talk often. Thank you.”

Jenna swallowed, wishing she could take both boys into her arms for a hug. “Hey, I heard there was turkey for dinner. Are you as hungry as I am?”

Brad looked back to the kitchen where Nicky was earnestly introducing Jim to an enormous gray ball of fluff. No hint of a smile touched his lips. “I could eat.”

Jenna made her own lips curve even though she felt more like crying. “Then let’s go before Matt ‘tastes’ all the white meat.”

E
LEVEN

Sunday, October 2, 6:15
P.M.

S
TEVEN PULLED INTO HIS DRIVEWAY
,
KICKING
himself for being late for a family dinner, when his eyes narrowed at the old Ford Explorer parked in front of his house.
Company
. A spurt of anger flared.
That old sneak.
Helen lured him home with the promise of a family dinner, turkey with all the trimmings, only to really set him up with a blind date. He ground his teeth. After dealing with the press all day, he was not in the mood to be blatantly disobeyed by a meddling old woman. He’d told Helen again and again to stop her matchmaking. Today was the day she’d listen.

He got out of the car and slammed the door hard. Helen’s matchmaking would be a total failure without half the match—him to be precise. He’d pass on the “family” dinner and barricade himself in his study. He had enough work to keep him busy for the rest of the night, easily. But the aroma that met his nose when he opened the front door made him quickly amend his plan. He drew an appreciative breath. As infuriating as she could be, Helen was a damn good cook and he was starving. He’d make himself a plate,
then
barricade himself in his study. A man had needs after all.

Food. Turkey. And sex.
Jenna Marshall.

Not necessarily in that order, he thought bitterly. He couldn’t even say her picture “flashed” in his mind, because it had been there all damn day. Through his team meeting this morning, the hellish impromptu press conference—she’d been there. Black hair, violet eyes, and all those curves . . .
God.
He had more important things to worry about. Samantha Eggleston. Brad. Nicky.

Yet still, Jenna stayed in his mind. Fantasy and memory switching back and forth until he thought he was going to scream. Jenna offering comfort with her eyes wide and hopeful. Sexy as hell sprawled on the floor of the school lobby, her skirt hiked high above the tops of those silk stockings. Naked in his bed, panting and crying his name as she came around him. He shuddered from the sheer force of the fantasy.
God.

Jenna sitting at his dining-room table.

Steven stopped in the archway and blinked. This was neither fantasy nor memory. Jenna Marshall sat at his diningroom table. Eating his turkey. Sitting between his youngest sons while his aunt looked on in beaming approval.

Jenna Marshall, party to his aunt’s schemes.

He’d been set up. By Helen. By Jenna herself. While he’d been kicking himself for having entirely normal fantasies,
she’d
been scheming with Helen. He felt doubly betrayed. Unholy fury, pent up all day, simmered and burst forth.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, his voice menacingly quiet to his own ears.

The buzz of conversation instantly ceased and every head looked up. He watched Jenna slowly put her fork on her plate. She said nothing, just looked up at him with those eyes of hers. But unlike Friday, they weren’t full of compassion, but reproach.

Which made him even angrier. On the edge of his vision he saw Helen rise to her feet.

“You were late. We started without you,” Helen said coldly.

“I can see that,” he gritted from behind clenched teeth. “And we have a guest,” Helen added, her voice dropping to sheer ice.

Steven matched her tone, not taking his eyes from Jenna’s face, which had gone still as stone. “I can see that too. I also remember telling you I didn’t want any company this weekend and I especially didn’t want another of your
damn
blind dates. I didn’t know the two of you knew each other, Helen. What exactly are you doing here, Dr. Marshall?” he added, his voice deceptively mild.

“We didn’t know each other until today,” Helen said, balling her fists at her sides. “And I didn’t know my nephew could be so rude.”

Jenna stood up abruptly. “I think I should be going now.” She looked over at Helen. “May I have my briefcase now?”

Briefcase.
Steven drew a breath and felt his fury fizzle into a tiny wisp of smoke. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He’d stepped in it. Royally. “You came to get your briefcase.”

“She left it in your car, Daddy,” Nicky offered soberly and Steven opened his eyes to see his youngest sidle a little closer to Jenna who stood still as a marble statue. He could see she was angry, unspeakably so, but she controlled herself to a hair. “Aunt Helen called her to come get it.” Nicky frowned. “So she did.”

Steven’s gut turned over.
She’d come to get her briefcase.
Dammit. He shot Helen a helpless look. Helen returned it with scorn and looked back to Jenna, her expression softening.

“But you haven’t finished your dinner,” she said to Jenna. Jenna met Steven’s eyes and he felt an inch tall. “I’ve had enough, thank you.”

Nicky tugged on her sleeve. “But, Jenna, you promised to help me teach Cindy Lou to sit.”

Jenna bent down and schooled her features into a gentle smile. “So I did. Well, I tell you what. If it’s okay with your dad I’ll come by next weekend and you and I can take Cindy Lou to the park for her first lesson. How does that sound?”

Nicky frowned. “But I wanted to start now. Please?” Jenna ran her finger down Nicky’s nose and tapped the freckled end. “But you don’t always get everything you want. Besides, once I get my briefcase, I have to go home and grade papers.”

“Can you leave Jim here?” Nicky asked plaintively and Steven closed his eyes, his heart sinking. He could have predicted this. Nicky had already formed an attachment thanks to Helen’s meddling. An attachment that would bring nothing but grief and disappointment. And who could blame his boy? Who wouldn’t develop an attachment to a woman like Jenna Marshall in a single meeting? God only knew he himself had.

“No, Nicky, I can’t,” she said. “If I left Jim here, Jean-Luc would be lonely. You wouldn’t want that to happen would you?”

Steven opened his eyes to find Nicky slowly wagging his head back and forth. “I guess not.” Nicky’s face brightened a shade. “Can you stay for dessert? Aunt Helen made three kinds of pies.”

“Three pies? Goodness.” Jenna shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, darlin’. I have to go now.” She straightened and angled a look at Brad. “Tomorrow? I’ll see you in class?”

Brad jerked a single nod, which Jenna apparently took as assent.

“My briefcase, Helen? Please? And, Matt, my jacket, if you don’t mind. Jim, get your leash.”

With a sigh Helen left the room. With a disgusted glare aimed in Steven’s direction, Matt followed her. Jim the dog had already padded away, Nicky in close pursuit. Brad stood and turned a dark scowl on his unshaven face. “Good work, Dad,” he sneered. “Ruined yet another
family
dinner.” He turned to Jenna. “Please excuse my father’s rude behavior, Dr. Marshall. And feel free to take home some leftovers. I’m not having any more. I’ve lost my appetite.”

Steven locked his jaw as Brad turned on his heel and raised his hand in a sarcastic salute. He waited until Brad was gone, leaving just the two of them and a table overflowing with turkey and stuffing. Brad was right. He’d ruined dinner and had been insufferably rude. “Jenna, I—”

She held up her hand, stopping him midsentence. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Thatcher.”

Ouch. So they were back to formalities. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Her eyes blazed with the same fire he’d seen when he knocked her down in the school lobby. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to, but the boys and Helen. That was inexcusable.”

“I’d like to explain.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” Helen appeared with her briefcase and Steven stepped forward to help her carry the heavy monstrosity, but she grabbed it from Helen’s hand with what could only be called a polite snarl. “I’ll carry it myself,” she snapped at him, then drew a breath and turned back to Helen. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry I have to run.”

“I understand,” Helen murmured and together Steven and his aunt watched Jenna limp to her Explorer, briefcase slung over one bowing shoulder, Jim at her heels. When she’d driven away, Helen looked at Steven with contempt. “You idiot,” she whispered and left him standing alone.

Seattle, Washington, Sunday, October 2, 9:00
P.M.
Eastern Time (6:00
P.M.
Pacific)

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Barrow said, slowing down for a pedestrian pulling a set of suitcases through the airport crosswalk.

“I plan to make it up as I go along,” Neil replied dryly. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Barrow glanced over at him before pulling into an open space at the departures curb. “You could forget about all this and get on with your life. Maybe get Tracey back and settle down with a couple kids and grow too much zucchini in the backyard of a house in the suburbs.”

Neil just looked at him and Barrow sighed and added, “Or you could go do what you think you have to do. Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like flying across the country on the off-chance it’s the same guy?”

Barrow nodded. “Hold your temper until you have real evidence. Even if it is the same guy.”

Neil frowned. “I had real evidence last time.”

Barrow shrugged. “The judge said we didn’t.”

“The judge—” Neil bit off what he really thought of the judge. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I don’t see why you can’t investigate this from here. The Parkers couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth.”

“For all intents, they did.” Neil should know. He’d spent every waking hour after the moving truck pulled away from the curb three years before trying to figure out where the Parkers had run. Where they’d started their new life, leaving anguish behind here in Seattle. “If you’re rich enough, you can buy nearly anything, including a new start. I have to prove to myself it isn’t Parker.”

Barrow sighed heavily. “So when are you coming home, Neil?”

“When I’m finished, I guess. I had some vacation coming, so I took a few weeks off.” Actually, he had more than a few weeks accrued. He hadn’t taken a day off in almost three years.

If his LT hadn’t allowed the leave, Neil had already planned to resign, which both Barrow and his LT would have classified as “stupid,” but was consistent with how much he believed in what he was doing. Three years ago he’d made a promise to four dead girls who were denied justice due to a technicality, an error on the part of the Seattle police. His error.

Those four girls would get justice if it was the last thing he did.

“Take care, Neil,” said Barrow and Neil forced a grin. “Always do. Thanks for the ride.”

Neil climbed from the car, his hanging bag swung over his shoulder, the handle of the locked case holding his service revolver clenched in his right fist. “Carolina, here I come,” he murmured. “If you’re William Parker, watch out. You won’t get away again.”

Raleigh, North Carolina, Sunday, October 2, 9:00
P.M.
Eastern Time

He’d been frozen out, Steven thought, staring at the little peephole in Jenna’s front door. By his aunt, his children, and now by the woman whose forgiveness he needed to secure before he’d be able to sleep another wink. He knocked again. “Jenna, please open the door. I know you’re in there.” He leaned his forehead against the cold steel. “Please let me explain.” What he intended to say, he had no idea. He just knew he had to make this one thing right. If only this one thing.

He’d tried to let the whole situation just die down. He’d fixed himself a plate of turkey, which tasted like sawdust. But he’d eaten it, if for no other reason than to have some sense of normalcy. Then he’d looked up to find Nicky staring at him with those solemn brown eyes. “You shouldn’t have yelled, Daddy,” Nicky said. “She’s a nice lady and she didn’t know Aunt Helen invited her over on purpose.” He’d raised both carrot-colored brows, his face looking so much older than seven. “You need to apologize, Daddy.” Wiser than seven, too.

And if that weren’t chastisement enough, Matt took his turn, extolling Jenna’s virtues and frowning at his father as though he were mud. Helen was ignoring him and he didn’t even try to talk to Brad. So he’d left, gotten in his car, and driven with no destination in mind, but was totally unsurprised to look up and find himself sitting in front of her apartment.

“Jenna, I saw you through your window. I won’t stop knocking until you open the door.”

“I’ll call the police,” she said through the door.

“I am the police,” he reminded her. “Please.”

“She’s a stubborn one,” a voice said behind him and he turned to find himself the subject of octogenarian scrutiny from a six-inch opening of the neighbor’s front door. “I’m Mrs. Kasselbaum.”

Ah,
he thought.
The nosy neighbor. Perhaps she might be an ally.
He extended his hand. “I’m Special Agent Steven Thatcher of the State Bureau of Investigation,” he said and watched her eyes go round as saucers. Antique saucers.

A gnarled arthritic hand appeared from the six-inch opening and shook his hand with a strong grip. “Is our Jenna in some kind of trouble?” she asked, dropping her voice to a loud whisper.

“No, ma’am. I got myself in trouble. I said something I shouldn’t have and now she won’t let me apologize. Do you have any suggestions?”