Gone (14 page)

Clare left the Burbys. The dog was still on the porch when she stepped out, muzzle resting on his forepaws. She made her way to the car. The asphalt drive was gooey in places and the trek was slow as her low sling-back sandals stuck to the tar.

She intended to pay a call on Connie Dannon. According to Hoag, Beth had worked at the inn on her last day in Farley and was presumably there until four thirty. Clare wanted to confirm that. So far, the inn was the only known place that Beth had been on her last day in town.

Clare’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID, then spoke into the phone. “Hello, Jake.”

“Got your message,” Jake said. “I ran Hoag. No priors. Man pays his debts and his taxes. Nothing raised any red flags.”

She had no doubt that Jake had been thorough and took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t found anything nasty in Hoag’s file that would raise fear for Beth.

“Beth doesn’t have a car registered with the DMV. I went ahead and initiated a search on Beth’s credit cards, bank info, etcetera,” Jake went on. “It’ll come through my home computer shortly. I’ll print a copy of whatever turns up for you and drop it by your place on my way into work tomorrow, or you can pick it up at my place. I’ll be home all day.”

He sounded distracted. Clare wondered if that had something to do with whatever emergency had compelled him to go home yesterday after his talk with Cal Dawson.

The last thing she wanted to do was go to Jake’s house, but she did want a look at Beth’s recent credit card transactions. She also wanted to arrange access to Jake’s office.

“I’m on my way,” Clare said, and disconnected.

Chapter Eight
 

When Clare pulled into Jake’s driveway, he was on a ladder painting the eaves trough of his house. Chocolate brown was slowly giving way to sunny yellow.

She parked beside his SUV on the double drive, then left the car. She took in her surroundings as she made her way to the cement walkway the ladder was perched on. A small inflatable pool filled with water sat on the freshly mowed lawn in the shade of a live oak. A wooden swing that glistened with wet paint the same color as the eaves troughs hung from the thick limb of that tree. The scents of freshly cut grass and paint filled the air.

She could imagine Jake pushing the swing for the young girl she’d seen him with yesterday—the child that Clare assumed was his daughter. Against her will, she thought of him standing behind a woman seated on that swing, her smiling face tilted back to his, as he rocked the swing gently.

She looked away from the swing.

Jake was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that were faded from many washes. He glanced down at her from the second rung of the ladder and nodded to her as she reached him. His eyelids looked heavy as if he hadn’t slept, and again she was reminded of his urgency to be home yesterday.

Since he was doing the mundane chore of painting, it appeared the crisis was over in the Sutton house.

Jake set the paintbrush across the open can. “The report on Beth came through. File’s on the chair, on the porch. Not much there and no credit cards to report on. Beth doesn’t have any.”

“What about joint—with Ryder?”

“Nada. Likewise for a bank account. Nothing with Ryder. Nothing on her own here in Farley either. She does have an account in Columbia though.”

“Columbia?”

“Yup. Set it up eighteen months ago. She’s the only one named on the account. She had a couple thousand in it until last week when she withdrew it all. She’s got debit card access, though the account is drained at the moment. That’s it.”

Clare retrieved the folder. In addition to the account history, the number and bank where it was located were also listed.

She shook her head and sighed. “It just couldn’t be that easy.”

“Tracking her through her card use was a long shot,” Jake said. “The secretive way that Beth made plans to leave town suggests that she doesn’t want to be found. She may know she would leave a trail if she used her debit card and opted to take the cash instead.”

“A trail for whom, though, I’m wondering,” Clare said softly.

“What?”

“You said Beth may not have wanted to use her debit card because she knows it can be traced. I’m wondering who she thinks will want to trace her. When I spoke with Ryder, he made it clear that he isn’t interested in a woman who doesn’t want him. Makes me think why all the drama of making secret plans to run away? Why take off? Why not just tell Dean she wanted a divorce?”

Jake was quiet for a moment, mulling that over. “Any theories?”

Clare recalled her conversation with Gladys. “Mrs. Linney thinks Beth is afraid of her husband.”

Jake frowned. “What makes her think that?”

“Nothing concrete, but she believes that to be the case.” Clare rubbed her brow. “Jake, I’d like access to your office.”

“Yeah, I got your message. Let me know when and I’ll do my best to accommodate you. I’ll be in tomorrow if you want to come in. We can run Ryder through the system. Strictly for background, I think. I don’t expect that we’ll find anything against him. We’ll see if we can poke any holes in what does turn up.”

“Or we could run that check now.” Clare shifted position in impatience.

Jake studied her for an instant then picked up a cloth that was draped across the top rung and wiped his hands with it. “I’ll need to see if my neighbor can watch Sammie first.”

“Sam-mie?” Clare repeated the name slowly. For some reason, it struck a familiar chord.

“Samantha. My niece.”

His niece, not his daughter. Clare had forgotten that he had a niece. They’d been together when his brother’s daughter was born. Jake had taken some vacation time to fly out and visit his new niece. He had invited Clare along but a conflict at work had kept her from accompanying him. Jake had returned one week later.

In her kitchen, she turned the dial on the oven to three hundred to heat the lasagna she’d made for them. She’d set the tone for a romantic evening and when she’d opened her front door to him, Jake had greeted her with enough enthusiasm that left no doubt that his plans matched hers.

The moon was high in the sky by the time they’d finally gotten around to thinking about dinner. While the food reheated, Jake poured glasses of wine, then he’d proudly shown her a photo of the newborn.

“She looks a little like me. Around the eyes,” Jake had said.

Clare couldn’t see a resemblance, and couldn’t resist teasing him. She smiled. “I noticed it right away.”

He must have heard the laughter in her voice, and laughed himself. It was obvious he was crazy about the little girl, and awed by her. Clare leaned against him and kissed him softly. “I’m happy for all of you.”

Jake slid an arm around her waist and held her close at his side. “That little girl.” His voice lowered. “She’s what it’s all about.”

“For some people,” Clare said softly.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Do I hear a ‘not for you’ in that statement?”

Clare’s stomach clenched. “I don’t want children.”

“Not now?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not at all.”

“So certain, Clare? Why?”

Children were important to Jake. She loved him. Would not mislead him. He deserved to know there would be no children with her.

Her throat tight, she faced him. She shrugged and said simply, “I suppose I don’t have the gene that makes women want to become mommies.”

A lie. How badly she wanted to have a child of her own. Wanted to have Jake’s child. Her breath held as love surged through her.

She would not tell him of her past. Of her fear that she’d turn on a child of her own one day, as her mother had. Clare shuddered. Better that he believed she didn’t want children, than know she feared turning into a monster.

The memory left Clare chilled to the bone.

Jake’s cell phone rang. He took it from the top of the ladder and answered the call. Clare was about to turn away to give him a degree of privacy, but his gaze flicked to her and held.

He glanced at his wristwatch. “I can be there in about four hours.” He listened once again to his caller then said, “Yeah. See you then. Appreciate the call, Steve.”

Before he’d flipped the phone closed, Clare took a step closer to the ladder. “What?”

Jake remained silent.

He was deciding what to tell her, she thought. “I already know that call had something to do with me. Now, what?”

Jake climbed down then stepped off the ladder and stood in front of her. “Let’s go inside for a minute.”

She gripped his arm. “What?”

Jake ran a hand back through his dark hair. “When you called me about Hoag’s claim that Beth hadn’t left town with him, I made some calls. I gave out Beth’s description to law enforcement officers I know in neighboring towns and cities. Unofficially. I didn’t give out Beth’s name. I put out the word to call me if anyone matched.”

The implication was alive or dead. He’d just gotten a call he hadn’t wanted to tell her about and despite the hot sun beating down on her, Clare shivered.

Jake cupped her shoulders in a tight, strong grip. He remained silent. It became apparent that he had no intention of saying more.

“The rest,” she said.

His gaze on her grew intent. His grip that already felt as if he were pressing to the bone tightened. “A body of a woman was found about a week ago in Russellville, a town in Georgia. No ID. She’s been in the Kenton county morgue tagged as a Jane Doe. She matches the description I gave out for Beth.”

Clare shuddered.

“I’m going to drive down there. Once I know something, I’ll call you.” He crouched so that their gazes were level. “Clare, I will call you as soon as I know.”

Clare’s throat had dried and she swallowed several times before she could speak. She shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

“No.”

She broke his hold on her and stepped away from him, headed for her car. “See you in Kenton County.”

He reached out and snagged her by the elbow. “You don’t want to go down there.”

She faced him. “Do you really think I could wait here?”

He held her gaze, then exhaled deeply. “I need to make arrangements for Sammie. Give me a few minutes.”

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later Clare joined Jake in the front seat of his SUV. He hadn’t shaved, a day’s growth of stubble darkened his lean jaw, but he’d washed up and changed into clean jeans and a shirt and topped off the outfit with a sport jacket. As he shifted his arm to the steering wheel, Clare glimpsed his shoulder holster beneath the jacket.

He started the engine. The radio was tuned to a fifties rock station and Elvis, singing “Jailhouse Rock.” Jake reduced the volume and backed out of the driveway.

Clare sat tight-lipped, looking out of the windows at the houses they passed. People sat on verandahs, waving paper fans and sipping from tall glasses and bottles. All was normal, yet here she was on her way to view a body that might be Beth.

Jake left Farley and steered his vehicle onto the interstate. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she felt a little dizzy, the feeling enhanced as the SUV picked up speed and the traffic outside her window blurred.

For the most part, they drove in silence, exchanging the odd monosyllabic word, letting the radio and the whoosh of oncoming vehicles provide sound.

Jake had had the presence of mind to bring along a couple of bottles of water. He uncapped one, held it out to her. She shook her head, afraid that even water would prove too much for her unsettled stomach.