Gone (24 page)

He arranged the pillows behind her with the arm that wasn’t holding Clare, then set her back against them.

She held out her hands. “Can I have a sip of your coffee?”

He handed the mug to her, waited until she had a firm hold before releasing it. She had a deep gash on one elbow and bruises on her arm, visible now as she raised the mug, and his T-shirt fell away exposing the skin.

“You scared me tonight,” he said.

“Me, too. How did you find out anyway?”

“Jonathan from the office called me. He’s married to the nurse who treated you.”

Clare nodded at his response. She rubbed her temples. “I’m ready for another couple of pills.”

Jake handed them to her. She chased them with the coffee then closed her eyes. She didn’t resist when he took the mug from her.

She lay back against the pillows. Jake sat, listening to her breathing.

He’d been crazed to reach her after receiving the call about the fire—crazed to see for himself that she was alive. He wanted to climb into bed beside her and hold her close and safe. Hold her as he hadn’t in three years.

He rubbed a hand down his face, then rose to his feet and left the room.

* * * * *

Clare opened her eyes. The small, round face of Jake’s niece was a few inches from her own, gazing down at her. Clare jerked back, startled.

“Hi,” the little girl said. “Uncle Jake said not to wake you.”

Daylight lit the edges of the blind. Another sunny day, by the level of brightness.

“I’m Samantha Josephine Sutton,” the little girl said. “Everybody calls me Sammie. Uncle Jake said your name is Clare and that you slept over. I like when we have sleepovers.”

Clare blinked at the monologue.

“I asked Uncle Jake if we can get a puppy,” Sammie went on. Her copper-colored ponytail bounced as she nodded. “Do you like dogs? I do. If we got a dog, I’d name her Annabelle. Do you like that name?”

Clare had relatively no experience with children and certainly didn’t know how to uphold her end of a conversation with one. The little girl didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, to mind that the conversation was one-sided.

Jake appeared in the doorway. “Sammie, I asked you not to wake Clare,” he said gently. He joined them at the bed and faced Clare. “How do you feel?”

“Better.”

She still had a headache, but a mild one. Her injured ankle, the muscles she’d strained and the skin she’d bruised were making themselves felt, but it was pain she could handle.

“I’m making breakfast. Are you up to eating?” Jake asked.

She was surprised that she felt ravenous. “Yes.” It occurred to her that Jake should be at work. “Aren’t you going into the office?”

“Stan and Jonathan can manage without me for today.”

“If you’re staying home because of me, don’t, I can manage fine.”

He gave her a level look. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.”

Moving slowly, Clare went into the bathroom that adjoined Jake’s bedroom. Her face reflected back at her in the mirror. Her eyes looked heavy from the pain killers. A bruise darkened her jaw. If she’d been less limber on the ledge last night, or less lucky . . . she shuddered. She forced the thought from her mind.

She washed, then dressed once again in the only clothes she had, the hospital scrubs. She was going to have to see about getting a few things to wear.

A few minutes later, she joined Jake and Sammie in the kitchen and they sat down to breakfast. Though Clare would have preferred to pass on the family breakfast, she had balked at the suggestion that a tray be brought to her.

Clare stretched out her left leg, shifting until she found a comfortable position for her injured ankle.

The clown face clock in the kitchen showed the time to be a few minutes before nine. With Sammie assisting him, Jake made pancakes and eggs. When the pancakes were done with a platter of them on the table, Sammie carefully transferred one to a plate then gripped the maple syrup dispenser and poured syrup on a pancake, drawing a happy face. She gave the pancake to Jake, then proceeded to do the same with another one for Clare.

“Ah . . . thanks,” Clare said, at a loss, as Sammie slid the plate to her.

“You’re welcome.” Sammie smiled, showing what looked to be her entire mouth full of teeth.

“Uncle Jake, can I go over to Heather’s and play?” Sammie asked as she decorated her own pancake.

“If it’s okay with Heather’s mom.”

“Heather asked, and her mom said okay.”

While Sammie spoke on about Heather, and Heather’s cat Fluffy, who was about to have kittens, Clare took a careful bite of the pancake and discovered to her surprise that it was good. At some point in the last three years, Jake had learned to cook.

“I’m going to be a peach in the Farley birthday parade next week,” Sammie said. “Want to see my costume, Clare?”

Clare was forking up another piece of the pancake and glanced up at Sammie, only just realizing that the girl was addressing her.

Without waiting for a reply, Sammie bounced up from her seat. “I’ll get it!” She hit the floor running.

The telephone rang on the counter. Jake left the table and went to answer it. From Jake’s side of the conversation, Clare gathered the caller was the mother of the aforementioned Heather, confirming the girls’ plans for the day.

By the time the call ended, Sammie was back, dragging a puffy, plush outfit behind her. She held the costume up for Clare.

“I have leotards that match and shiny shoes that make noise so you can hear me dancing.” Sammie said.

“Tap shoes,” Jake said, his gaze warm on Sammie.

“Tap shoes,” Sammie repeated with a brisk nod.

“Heather’s mom called,” Jake said. “You can go next door anytime.”

“I have to go to Heather’s now, Clare, but I’ll see you later.”

Sammie bounded out through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the living and dining rooms.

Jake trailed after his niece. “Be right back.”

He left the door open, affording an unhampered view of the front of the house, and Clare watched him watch Sammie make her way next door.

When Jake returned, he went to the coffee maker and came back to the table with the pot. “More coffee?”

Clare nodded. While Jake poured, she asked, “What are you doing in Farley? Last I recall, you were in line to head up one of the Bureau’s field offices.”

Jake returned the pot to the warming plate, then leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right. After you and I stopped seeing each other, I’d accepted a post to Washington Headquarters.”

A prestigious appointment. “And you came here?” Clare was certain her surprise was mirrored in her expression.

“You remember me mentioning my brother, Dan, Sammie’s father?”

She nodded.

“Right after you and I split up, Dan and his wife Marly were in a car accident. Marly died in the wreck. Dan lingered. He died a month after the accident.”

The pain of that was still evident in Jake’s voice. She wasn’t immune to it. Shaking her head slowly, she said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jake said softly. “Dan wanted me to be Sammie’s guardian. He met Marly in college. She was from Farley and intended to move back home after school. So after they got married, they moved here. Sammie was born here. When Dan and Marly died, Sammie was three years old. Marly is an only child. Her only remaining relative is her father who lives in the same nursing facility as Gladys Linney. That’s how I happened to be at the place when you were visiting Gladys. I was picking up Sammie who was spending the afternoon with her grandfather.

“Marly’s father and I are all the family Sammie has. And Sammie is the only family Marly’s dad has. He’d just lost his daughter. I couldn’t take Sammie away from him. Or him from Sammie. A position was available in the Columbia office. I took that instead of the post in Washington and I put in a request for a transfer to the resident office in town when a position became available so I could be local for Sammie. A couple of years later, the Supervisory Special Agent at this office transferred out. I got the job. Here I am.”

To avoid uprooting the child, and separating her from her grandfather, Jake had put his own wants aside. He’d shelved his own ambitions to raise his brother’s child.

“Sammie was in the car with her parents during the accident,” Jake said. “Not a scratch on her. I was told it was a miracle. Since that time, though, she suffers from nightmares and wakes up screaming and calling for Dan and Marly. That’s what happened a couple of days ago after my talk with Cal Dawson.”

Clare recalled the frantic phone call Jake had received.

“She was so young. Doctors don’t know what she remembers from that accident, but something has stayed with her.”

His concern was evident in his tone and in the lines that now wrinkled his brow.

“Most times I feel like I’m in over my head,” he said. “What do I know about raising a child—and a little girl at that.” He shook his head. “Just what is the deal with barrettes, anyway? How do you get them to stay up?”

He smiled and Clare could see he’d have it no other way. He could have washed his hands of the situation, allowed Sammie to be put into foster care. Clare believed there were many who would have shirked the responsibility. Instead, Jake had made a home for her. Clare bit her lip to suppress tears.

“You haven’t told me how after a decade of searching for Beth, you managed to track her here,” he asked.

Clare cleared her throat then told him of her encounter with Theresa Sands during the convenience store robbery and the subsequent events that had brought her to Farley.