Vanished in the Night (13 page)

Veronica walked into the parking lot several steps behind Zach and said, “Hi, Dad. Nice to see you, too.”

George Osborne’s Buick was halfway up on the curb. Osborne had missed the lamppost by inches. Zach shook his head.

Osborne stood on the sidewalk, swaying as if a strong wind was buffeting him around. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” Veronica answered, her voice calm. She stayed a few steps back, wary and careful. She’d given Zach the impression that her father had never been violent with her, but she was acting like someone who knew how to avoid getting a punch thrown at them.

“I sure as hell haven’t been shooting my mouth off on TV about things I don’t know anything about.”

Osborne took a few staggering steps toward them and Zach shifted so he was between Osborne and Veronica. He’d been convinced from the start that Osborne knew more than he was saying. Maybe he’d let something slip now, something Zach could use.

“What
do
you know, Dad? Do you know something about what happened to Max?” Veronica stepped forward now. Well, well, well, it seemed as if the dutiful daughter had been harboring a doubt or two herself. Underneath the dutiful daughter was a realist. He’d suspected that all along and was damn glad to be proved right.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Osborne lurched another step toward Veronica.

“You said I was shooting my mouth off about something I knew nothing about. So I was wondering . . . do you know something about it? Is that how you know I’m barking up the wrong tree? Did Max come to you and Mama for help?”

“If that brat had darkened my doorstep again, he would have been back at that school so fast his nappy little head would have spun off his scrawny little neck.” Osborne spat on the ground for emphasis.

“But you know something, don’t you, Dad?” Veronica’s voice sounded strained. “What is it? Won’t
you tell me? It’s been so long. Can’t we finally let Max lie in peace?”

Zach thought that Veronica was getting through to him, that Osborne might actually tell them something that would help them blow this case open.

Then something about her last sentence roused his anger again. In Zach’s experience, there were two kinds of drunks: lovey ones and angry ones. He didn’t enjoy being slobbered on, but he’d rather get a man hug than a right cross to the jaw.

“I’m not the one who’s not letting him lie in peace. You’re the one out there sniveling and begging for information. Offering rewards. Making promises. He’s dead. He’s been dead a long time. Leave it be.”

Veronica’s jaw tightened. “I can’t.”

Osborne threw his hands in the air. “Well, don’t come crying to me about it. I warned you. Leave it be.”

“Or what, Daddy? What will happen if I don’t? Did you have something to do with this?”

“Why, you little brat! How dare you accuse me? You think I killed the bastard? Well, then prove it.” Osborne advanced on his daughter. He wasn’t a big man, but she was a tiny woman and he loomed over her. He clenched his fists at his sides. A vein bulged in the side of his neck.

Veronica stood her ground.

Zach moved between them. “It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Osborne.”

Osborne turned his attention to Zach. “Who the hell are you?” he slurred.

“Detective Zachary McKnight from the Sacramento PD, Mr. Osborne,” Zach said, keeping his voice level and calm. “We met the other day.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re one of the monkeys that tore apart my house, aren’t you?” Osborne squinted one eye as if that would help him make out Zach’s features better.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Osborne.” Zach stood very still.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Osborne poked Zach in the chest. “You gonna make me leave?”

Zach sighed. He didn’t like to be poked in the chest. He especially didn’t like to be poked in the chest by a drunk who had just screamed obscenities at his own daughter in public.

“Don’t touch me.” Zach grabbed Osborne’s finger, twisted it back and around, and Osborne fell to his knees.

“Stop it!” Veronica pushed at Zach’s arm. “You’re hurting him.”

Zach looked at her in surprise. “I wouldn’t be if he’d stop struggling.” All George Osborne had to do was settle down and he’d release him.

“And how likely do you think
that
is?” Veronica glared up at him, hands on her hips.

Zach looked from her down to Osborne on his knees in front of him. Not very fucking likely. Osborne was definitely a fighter; he’d stop struggling when he was dead. Zach released the older man’s hand and stepped away. “Get in your car and go home,” he told Osborne.

Veronica helped her father to his feet. He rewarded her by batting her hands away. “This is your fault, you stupid bitch.”

“I know, Dad,” she said, examining his hand. She didn’t even react to the name-calling. Zach would bet she’d heard that and worse many times before. No wonder she could handle the drunks and crazies who paraded through the emergency room. She’d been raised with it.

Osborne snatched his hand away from her. “You’re meddling in things you know nothing about.”

“Then enlighten us,” Zach broke in.

“Fat chance, asshole.” Osborne turned and walked back toward his car, hand cradled against his chest. It probably hurt. It might even end up a little swollen, but Zach knew he hadn’t broken anything. Anger made him very careful, and he was very angry right now.

What kind of man spoke to his daughter like that? What kind of abuse had he dished out for years to
have her react like that? Or more to the point, to not react to it at all.

Veronica was walking after Osborne. “Let me drive you, Dad.”

“I don’t need you to fucking drive me, Ronnie. I was driving long before you were born.” Osborne didn’t even look behind him.

“I know, but you’re hurt. Let me take you home.” Veronica caught up with him on the sidewalk and took his arm.

“Leave me be. I’m fine.” Osborne shook her off, damn near shaking her off her feet. She stumbled a bit and Zach rushed to steady her.

Most men would have balked at the look she gave him. He’d faced down worse, though. “You okay?”

She rolled her eyes as an answer, then turned back to her father. “Dad, I don’t think you’re in any shape to drive home.”

“Too damn bad. I’m doing it anyway.” He opened the car door, awkward with his left hand, and slipped inside.

As her father started the engine of the big Buick, Veronica stepped back onto the sidewalk and watched him peel out of the lot. “Fabulous. What if he kills someone on the way home?”

As if to prove her point, another car—actually a white pickup truck—nearly rear-ended the Buick
when Osborne stopped short at the stop sign at the end of the street.

“His hand isn’t hurt that bad,” Zach protested.

“No, but he is that drunk. My dad can hold his liquor. If he’s swaying and slurring his words, he’s got quite a load on.” She turned and marched toward her door, fumbling for her keys inside her purse.

Zach pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call it in and have someone pull him over before he can do any harm.”

Veronica threw her hands in the air. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”

Zach paused. Did she want him to leave her father on the road or get him off the road?

“Who do you think they’re going to call after they pull him over?” she asked.

He’d heard that tone way too many times from his older sisters, and realization dawned. It must have shown on his face.

“That’s right. His dutiful, loving daughter, who has already maxed out two credit cards bailing him out of jail.” She unlocked the door to the condo and started in, leaping back as a small black cat darted out the door. “Damn it, Shadow.” She called after the cat, then turned again on Zach. “Now look what you’ve done. Have you ever tried to find a black cat at night? It’s about as easy as getting a drunken father out of jail in the middle of the night.”

So now her cat getting out was his fault, too? Jesus. “What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him call you names?”

She marched right up to him, her nose practically at his chest. “Do you really think it’s the first time?”

“Just because he’s done it before doesn’t mean it’s right.” He couldn’t believe he was defending himself for defending her. How messed up was that? He’d been so right when he decided this girl was nuts.

She stopped for a minute, looking up at him with narrowed eyes, then leaned against the door frame. “Look. I get how crazy this looks. My father is a drunk. He’s mean when he’s sober and the booze does not improve that. He is, however, my father, and at this point he’s the only family I have. As far as what’s right and what’s not . . . I’m sure you know as well as I do how little that applies to reality. My father is who he is. I can’t do anything about it. I can only be the person I think I should be, and that person tries to be a decent daughter regardless of how fucked up her father is. Get it now?”

He did get it. She was correct. Fair and right didn’t have much of a place in the world. It was part of why he was a cop: to help them come out on top a little more often.

“I’m sorry to have interfered. I’ll just get going.”

Veronica’s hands dropped to her sides. She looked oddly deflated. “Thank you. I think that’s probably best.”

“Would you like me to check your condo before I go? Make sure it’s all clear?” It’s what he had come here to do in the first place.

She hesitated and then nodded. “Please.”

It didn’t take long. Nothing looked like it had been disturbed. The windows and doors were all still locked. No one was lurking behind the shower curtain, under the bed, or in her very tidy closets. He came down the stairs and found Veronica making tea in the kitchen.

“It’s all clear.”

“Thank you.”

It was too strange. They’d gone from screaming at each other to detached politeness in one minute. Zach’s heart was still beating a little too fast from his altercation with her father, and now they were Emily Posting it in the kitchen.

“I’ll be going, then.”

She nodded. “You’ll let me know if anything comes out of the press conference, right?”

The last thing he wanted was more contact with Ms. Crazy, but he could hardly refuse to let her know if there were any leads. “I’ll keep you posted as best as I can.”

“Got it. Thanks again.” She extended her hand.

Zach shook it and headed out the door, half convinced that the look in her eyes was regret.

*     *     *

He stood by the Crown Vic in the parking lot, trying to make sense of things. He’d made a connection with Veronica. He was sure of it. There’d been a moment when he’d half thought she was going to kiss him. They’d been leaning over her kitchen table; her lips had been tantalizingly close to his. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, off the delicate spray of freckles across her nose, off the full roundness of her lips.

If he’d leaned forward just a fraction, he could have kissed her. He could kick himself for not having done it; it wasn’t like him to hesitate like that.

Then after the press conference, in the car on the way home, he’d felt her open up to him. Why it mattered to him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He’d thought he’d wanted to win her trust to get whatever information she might be holding back. He’d wanted to solve his case, to keep his numbers up.

But somewhere along the line, that had changed. Now he wanted her to look up at him with those soft brown eyes and trust him. He wanted her to know that he was there to look out for her. He wanted her to realize that there was a man around who wouldn’t let her down, who would be there for her, who would protect her.

No one had ever been there for her. She’d done
everything she’d done despite the people around her, not because of them. Zach couldn’t imagine how that would feel.

He got into the car. Frank was right: he had it bad. When the hell had that happened? Had it been that first moment when he’d crouched next to her in her home and felt a surge of protectiveness in his chest as he told her that they’d finally found her brother?

Or had it been when they’d faced off at her father’s house when he’d served the search warrant? Had it been her defiance in the face of all that overwhelming police presence? Lord knew he loved a plucky woman. He could probably credit his older sisters with that.

Veronica Osborne was a classic example of the caretaking adult child of an alcoholic. She undoubtedly knew it, too. There was too much intelligence under that freckle-faced girl-next-door exterior for her not to know it.

Zach turned the Crown Vic toward the station house. With any luck, the tip line would be ringing by now.

10

The whole situation still had her riled. Veronica laid the story out to Tina when she got to the ER.

Tina stared up at Veronica from where she sat at the nurses’ station. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“The big police officer with the broad shoulders had my drunk father down on his knees begging for mercy!” Every time she thought about it, she wanted to scream. She just wasn’t sure at whom.

Tina leaned back. “He does have nice shoulders, doesn’t he?” She closed the patient file she’d been making a notation in and slid it into the rack.

“My father’s an old man, and not a well one. It was completely over the top.”

Tina’s cell phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. “Hey, yourself,” she said.

Veronica knew that tone of voice. Tina had a new man.

“Here? Now? A nail gun? It’s still in his chest?” Tina asked breathlessly and then listened for a moment. “Oh, you definitely know how to treat a girl. I’ll be ready.”

“Who was that?” Veronica asked after Tina hung up.

“Remember the EMT who brought in the asphyxiated chick?” Her smile broke out on her face like a ray of sunshine.

“The cute one who just moved here from Truckee?” The one who had argued with Tina and probably won her heart forever?

“The very one. He’s bringing in a guy whose girlfriend attacked him with a nail gun.” Tina leaned toward Veronica and whispered. “And the nails are still in place. I’m telling you, this guy knows how to make a girl hot.”