Bringing Benjy Home (Security Ops) (16 page)

Her eyes met Trey’s. Neither of them voiced the question that was uppermost on their minds. They were at the area’s largest tourist attraction at the height of the season. How were they going to find one small boy in the midst of thousands of people?

Chapter 10

“The day was a bust.” Trey delivered the pronouncement in a tight, flat voice. Jaida sat slouched in one of the chairs in the motel room. He paced by her, as if unable to stop moving.

“It’s going to take time,” she answered quietly, exhaustion lacing her words. “It was impossible for us to cover the whole park in one day.”

“How do we know they’re still around here? The kidnappers might have gone to Kids’ Kingdom for a day and taken off again. We could spend a week in that park and never run across Benjy, because he may no longer be there,” he said frustratedly. “This whole thing is getting more and more bizarre. Why in hell would someone snatch a little boy in California, drag him to the other coast and then give him a trip to an amusement park? They could have stayed in California if the kidnappers had a yen to take someone else’s child to a theme park.”

Trey continued to prowl the large, comfortably furnished motel room. Jaida watched him from heavy-lidded eyes. Fatigue was rushing over her, and she would have liked nothing better than to give in to it. The park had been very close to sensory overload for her today. The skies had been bright and sunny, drawing record-number crowds. As skilled as she was, it was impossible to avoid being bumped into, brushed by. She couldn’t afford to spend the hours at the park with her inner defenses constantly raised. She’d needed to remain open to any sensations that would lead them to Benjy. Unable to guard against the unwelcome, intrusive peeks into the lives of strangers, she’d been bombarded by their mental and emotional states.

“Perhaps there’s a reason that the kidnappers need to be
here
, in this area.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the chair. “All I can tell is they’re feeling more . . . desperate. As though time is getting short.”

Desperate
. Trey reviewed the word grimly, acid churning in his gut. Desperate people were driven to extreme acts. What could happen to his nephew if the kidnappers felt threatened didn’t even bear thinking about.

“You’re certain two people are involved in the kidnapping.”

She nodded. “A man and a woman.”

“I think we can discount that he was snatched by a couple in search of a child of their own,” he said. That had been one scenario espoused by the detective in Los Angeles. “Such a couple might take a child across the country to make a new home, where no one would know them. But this journey of theirs has seemed more random than anything else.”

“Benjy wasn’t kidnapped by a couple longing for a child,” Jaida remarked distantly. She recalled the earlier visions in which a man’s arm had yanked the child ungently and later delivered a stinging slap. No. She could tell very little about the man responsible for kidnapping Benjy, but she knew the boy was merely a means to an end for him.

“Okay, if we accept that, what do we have left?” Trey demanded, half to himself. “The adoption black market? Babies are their usual prey.”

“Benjy is a beautiful child, though,” Jaida said softly. She saw him clearly in her mind, his image branded into the visions. It seemed impossible for another human being to look so much like an adult, but he was a miniature of Trey, offering tantalizing clues to how Trey’s own children would look.

The thought of Trey’s future children made Jaida’s heart ache. He would be a wonderful father; his devotion to his nephew proved that. Some men, unfortunately abused during their own childhood as Trey had been, were doomed to repeat the cycle of abuse. But whatever had formed Trey was more powerful than the blows his father had landed on him.

She blinked rapidly, banishing the tears that had inexplicably welled in her eyes. More than likely her imaginings were as mythical as Trey’s children would be. She already knew how difficult it was for him to open his emotions. The idea that he would find a woman he could trust that much was unlikely. And the idea that the woman could be her was unlikelier still.

And yet . . . she very much wanted to be that woman in his life.

She watched him continue to pace, her vision blurring with exhaustion. She was miserably aware that whatever Trey felt for her would fall far short of what she would want from him.

“Are you all right?”

“Do you know how often you ask me that?” she replied, only half joking. She didn’t need a mirror to guess what she looked like right now. The day had taken a lot out of her, and she felt like a wrung-out dishrag. She imagined she didn’t look much better.

He surveyed her grimly. Her appearance was alarming. Her face was almost the color of her hair, and even her brilliant blue eyes appeared dulled. Castigating himself for not noticing sooner, he said, “You’re white as a sheet. Are you hungry? We don’t have to go out. I can order room service.”

She shook her head. “You are learning. Most times food will cure just about anything ailing me. But brace yourself for the shock, I’m really not hungry at the moment.”

Now he really was alarmed. When Jaida wasn’t hungry it meant she was on the verge of being ill. Making a rapid decision, he strode to the phone. “I am ordering supper and you will eat. You’re frail enough. No telling what will happen if you don’t get your usual five thousand calories a day.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. When Trey made a decision he was impossible to stop. She listened as he spoke on the phone, ordering enough food for five people. In spite of her recent protestations, she felt a spark of interest. Maybe he was right. She felt as weak as a newborn baby bird, and tomorrow promised to be a repeat of today. And perhaps the day after that. She was going to need all her strength to bring Benjy back home.

She’d helped numerous families over the years, provided them with information to help find a loved one or even a pet or valuable object. The cases rarely had taken more than a day or two. Never had she been involved in a case this prolonged or this complex. One complication was that the kidnappers weren’t obliging them by staying put. No sooner did she pinpoint their location than they left again.

Another complication was standing across the room from her, hanging up the phone with a satisfied look on his face. Trey Garrison was the biggest complication in her previously simple existence. And before this case was over, he was going to irrevocably change her life, for better or worse.

When the food arrived in the next hour, she found she was glad he had ignored her wishes about ordering it. The aroma stirred her appetite. Jaida joined him without comment. They consciously avoided dining on the balcony, which gave a stunning view of the theme park. It would only have served to remind them of how close they might be to Benjy. And yet, so far away.

“You’re looking a little better,” he said after they’d finished eating. The color was gradually returning to her cheeks. But those beautiful eyes were still shadowed, and she continued to look more fragile than he would have liked.

“You seemed to know your way around today,” he remarked. “You’ve obviously been here before. Did your mother bring you? I can’t imagine your grandmother in a place like this.”

Jaida smiled at the thought. “No, Kids’ Kingdom wouldn’t have appealed to Granny. As a matter of fact, she’s only left the valley once to my recollection.” The memory of that particular instance intruded, and she pushed it away firmly. “Actually, I was here about five years ago when my band was on tour.”

His startled gaze met hers. “Band? What band? You said you were a songwriter.”

“And so I am,” she mocked him softly. “I’ve written songs since I was . . . oh, eight or so. But I’ve always loved to sing, and my biggest dream was to be part of a successful group, go on tour, record songs . . . .” She smiled sadly at her naive hopes. She’d never allowed herself to consider just what it would all entail. And just how much it would demand from her.

“What happened?” he demanded, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything more. “Did the band break up?”

“On the contrary,
Pure Jade
is alive and well. Currently on yet another tour, I believe.”

“I’ve heard of them,” he said slowly. He regarded her with a fierce frown. “So why aren’t you with them? Were you . . . replaced?” he asked, searching for a delicate wording,

“Your confidence is truly inspiring,” she said, her drawl more pronounced. “But, in a manner of speaking, I guess you’re right. I asked to be replaced, at least at most public appearances and on tour. I still record with the group, though, so that’s my voice you hear on the radio.” It annoyed her that it mattered in the slightest what he thought of her talent, but darn it, it
did
matter. “I still write most of the songs we record. I . . . I just didn’t want to do the public part anymore, that’s all.”

“Why?”

He was as demanding as an interrogator, and as relentless. She looked away, not wanting to go down that road again, and especially not with him. “It was . . . more difficult than I’d imagined,” she finally said. “Constantly traveling, waking up wondering what city I was in. I just grew tired of it.”

“Bull.”

His emphatic reply had her jerking to face him.

“I know you better than that. You’re not a quitter. You wouldn’t let the band down by bowing out like that. Something must have happened, something big enough to cause you to give up the dream of a lifetime. Most singers fantasize of reaching the success you did. People don’t walk away from it easily. Not without a damn good reason.”

“Well, I had a damn good reason,” she answered shortly, glaring at him. Abruptly she pushed away from the table. She didn’t enjoy being subjected to his analysis or to his half-baked theories. The fact that he was right didn’t make it any easier to face it again.

“What was it? Did you hate it that much?”

“Some of it. Not all.” Parts of that life had lived up to every fantastic image she’d spun about it. There was no other experience on earth that matched the high she’d received from singing her heart out to sellout crowds. The energy that infused the fans returned to her, propelling her even higher. “It wasn’t too bad at first, but as we established a following, things got more . . . complicated. It seemed like I was never alone. I was with the group practicing, or we were traveling or, later, in meetings with our manager or accountants. At first I was able to return to the valley fairly frequently for short visits to regroup. But then those visits got harder and harder to schedule. When we grew more popular . . .” She hesitated. Even now the reality felt like a cruel trick of nature.

“It became difficult even to get to the concert we were going to put on. And forget about getting out of it without being mobbed. No amount of planning could keep the crowds at bay. We insisted on the tightest security. But I came to dread every concert. Just the thought of having to brave that crowd as we left to go home at the end of the night was enough give me the shakes.”

Trey listened quietly, comprehension dawning as he focused more on what she didn’t say. He knew what a single touch could do to her. What must it have been like to be mobbed by hundreds of strangers night after night? He could only imagine that kind of sensory bombardment.

“We were doing a concert in Tucson. It was a full house, and the energy was high. Security wasn’t as tight as it should have been, and I think there was a lot of drinking going on in the crowd.” She sighed, as if the retelling in itself was tiring. “One young cowboy jumped up on the stage and started waltzing me around.” The memory was sharp, as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

“About the time security would have reached us, he swept me up and passed me down to someone in the crowd. It’s called crowd surfing. I was handed around over the heads of the high-spirited concertgoers.”

His face went taut and still. “They were all touching you.”

She gave a shaky breath. “It sounds juvenile, I know, but by the time security rescued me I couldn’t go on with the concert. I spent the rest of the night huddled in my dressing room, a basket case, because some unruly young men got tanked up enough to be overly brave. It was just a prank to them, but to me . . .” Her voice tapered off.

“That was when I faced reality. I’d been fooling myself into thinking I could be a normal person, that I could chase my rainbow just like anyone else. Something like that was bound to happen sooner or later, and it was just the final straw.” She looked at Trey then, pain easily apparent in her eyes. “I’m not
normal
, and I never will be. Granny always told me these visions were a gift, but at that point they felt like a curse to me. They represented the reason for everything I thought I’d lost— my mother’s love, my music career.” She stopped, biting her lip. Granny hadn’t seemed surprised to find her back in the valley to stay. It was in the weeks to follow that Jaida realized Granny had known the outcome of her short-lived career all along. In her wisdom, she’d let Jaida discover it for herself.

Trey’s jaw tightened. He damned himself for pushing her about this. If she’d looked delicate before, now she appeared positively fragile. Her eyes were huge and haunted, and more than anything he wanted to remove that look from them. He didn’t move. He didn’t have the right to comfort her, any more than he’d had the right to push her. But still, he found himself trying.

“You’re normal in all the ways that count, Jaida.” His voice was rough. “You give of yourself at great personal cost. There aren’t many who can claim the same.”