Gone (9 page)

“Then it’s settled.”

He turned to leave.

“Why Jake? Why the interest?”

He faced her once again, met her steely gaze with one that was just as hard. “The faster you complete your business in Farley, the faster you’ll leave town.”

She had her answer, though hearing it stung.

“I have a lead on a trucker that my sister left town with,” Clare said. “I plan to check that out first thing in the morning.”

Jake nodded. “I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll have breakfast at the diner in town. You can bring me up to speed and we’ll follow up on your lead from there.”

“I’ll meet you at the diner.”

He shrugged. “Meet me, then.”

A loud creak came from overhead, and a section of the ceiling at the opposite end of the room collapsed. Water poured in through a now gaping hole.

Clare watched the downpour. “Guess I’m going to need more pots.”

* * * * *

Jake stopped just short of slamming Clare’s front door behind himself. He leaned back against the scarred wood of the door. Water poured from the down spout into a crater-sized hole in the porch. Could good ol’ boy Earl Lowney have rented her more of a dump than this one?

When the ceiling collapsed, he’d had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from scooping her off her feet and taking her back to his house. How she would have balked at that. He’d have likely lost a body part. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. He’d seen her take down men who outweighed and outdistanced her significantly. On more than one occasion he’d been relieved to see that she had the skill to back herself up.

Still, she wasn’t as tough on the inside. She’d looked so vulnerable when she’d asked him if he’d met Beth. He knew what it cost her to open herself up like that to him. When he’d told her he hadn’t, her disappointment had sliced through him. In that moment, he’d have given a lot to be able to say he knew her sister.

She looked the same. Wide, soulful eyes. A sweep of dark hair that flowed around her shoulders. A killer body that he remembered all too well. He’d curled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her, so badly did he want to take her in his arms.

She’d asked why he wanted to help her. He’d told her what he believed she wanted to hear. It didn’t please him that he’d been right. That he’d known the only way to get her to accept his help was to lie to her. She would have thrown him out if she knew the truth.

They’d been over for three years, and he’d never stopped loving her.

Chapter Six
 

The next morning Clare drove into town for her breakfast meeting with Jake. She wasn’t looking forward to it—or more accurately, to seeing him. She preferred if they didn’t cross paths again while she was in town. But his offer to assist with the locals in her search for Beth had been too good to pass up. So, here she was.

They would only be speaking with one local, she reminded herself, the grocer, who could provide the name of the truck driver Beth left town with. Once Clare had the name, she and Jake could go their separate ways.

She parked her rental by the curb in front of the diner. Despite the short walk, perspiration broke out on the back of her neck. The rain last night hadn’t caused the heat to let up, as she’d hoped. If anything, it was hotter today. She was glad to exchange the sticky, damp air outside for the cool interior of the diner.

The scents of coffee brewing and bacon frying wafted in the air. Clare’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d missed dinner the night before. After Jake left she’d returned to her bath. The adrenaline that had been driving her for the last couple of days was spent and she’d fallen asleep on the sprung mattress in the master bedroom. She never did make it out of the house to find a meal.

She scanned the diner. Jake hadn’t arrived yet. Judging by the number of people inside, the place was doing a great business. Only a couple of empty tables remained. She started toward one of them.

Heads turned as she made her way down the center aisle. Conversations slowed then ceased. Clare thought it was a safe assumption word that Beth Ryder’s look-alike sister was in town had spread.

A buzz of conversation began as Clare reached the table. She felt every eye in the diner on her. It was not an unfamiliar sensation. She’d been the new kid—in the family—in the school—in the neighborhood—more times than she cared to count. Though the attention remained unwelcome and uncomfortable, she’d learned to deal with it.

She took a seat. She’d dressed as she would have if she were going into the Bureau office. The sleeveless dress she wore beneath a matching suit jacket fell to mid-thigh and the vinyl padding of the chair cooled the backs of her legs. Her gun, in a shoulder holster beneath the jacket, pressed against her side.

The table sat in front of a large window. Sunlight streamed across two menus stacked in the center of the white tabletop. The window looked out onto Main Street. A few Farley residents walked the sidewalks, pushing strollers and pulling shopping carts.

Clare spotted Jake leaving a black SUV. Like her, he’d dressed for work. Seeing him in the deep blue suit and tie reminded her how well he wore business attire.

He entered the diner. She watched him search the crowd, then his gaze settled on her and he made his way over. Before they could exchange a word, a waitress stepped up to the table. The woman arrived so quickly, Clare wondered if the order of the day was to get her and Jake out as quickly as possible.

The waitress held an order pad clutched in a plump grip that was white with tension. In her other hand she held utensils. As Jake took the seat opposite Clare’s, the waitress placed them in front of him. Clare noticed the woman wasn’t carrying any utensils for her.

To Jake the waitress said, “What can I get you?”

The woman’s tone was unfriendly.

Jake rested his chin on the heel of his hand as if he had all the time in the world and regarded the woman. “How are your grand kids, Milly?”

The waitress—Milly—hesitated then said, “Got me another.”

She’d responded grudgingly, her tone low, as if reluctant to engage in personal conversation. Since Jake knew about her family, it appeared he was on friendly terms with her. Clare figured it was likely that the woman’s hostility was new and due to the fact that Jake was consorting with an enemy of the town. Clare refrained from rolling her eyes.

“How many does that make now?” Jake went on. “Three? Four?”

“Five.” Milly’s lips twitched, then curved into a smile. Color suffused her broad cheeks. “My Erline, bless her, this is her fifth girl.”

To Clare’s surprise, the waitress plopped the pad on the tabletop and stuck her thick fingers into her apron pocket. She pulled out a photo of a wrinkled, red, crying newborn and stuck it in front of Jake’s eyes.

He took the photo from Milly and nodded in appreciation. “Pretty as can be, just like her sisters.”

“That she is,” Milly said.

The waitress’ eyes glistened briefly and she sniffed. Jake handed the picture back to her. She returned it to her pocket, then snatched up the order pad.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“I’ll have the number three and coffee. Clare?”

She hadn’t glanced at the menu—too engrossed in the byplay between Jake and the waitress. He had a way with people, unlike herself. When they’d worked together and had occasion to interview witnesses, he’d taken on that role. People warmed to him.

To Milly now she said, “I’ll have the same.” She lifted the corners of her mouth in a very small smile. “I’ll need a knife and fork with that, Milly.”

The waitress’ lips tensed briefly, then she gave Clare a brisk nod and left them.

Clare crossed her arms and leaned against the padded back of the chair. “I guess it’s a safe bet that the waitress is a friend of Dean Ryder and Connie Dannon.”

“Farley doesn’t get a lot of tourists. You would have been conspicuous anyway. The resemblance between you and your sister is unmistakable.”

Clare uncrossed her arms and clutched the edge of the table. “You said you never met my sister?” Her words came out in a rush.

“I haven’t.” He said the words gently. “Last night, after I left you, I did some digging, wanting to find out a little about Beth. She and Ryder ran an announcement of their engagement in a newspaper in Columbia. There was a photo of the couple.”

Clare slid forward on the chair. “Did you print that announcement and the picture?”

But before she’d finished her question, Jake had removed a folded paper from the pocket inside his suit jacket and held it out to her.

Eyes wide, she drank in the picture of her sister and the brief paragraph below it, giving the names of the engaged couple and the date, time, and location of the wedding ceremony and reception.

She glanced up from the page and into Jake’s eyes. She broke the eye contact and hastily tucked the page into her purse.

She could feel his gaze still on her. What else had he looked into? With very little effort, he would have learned about her mother and the events that resulted in Clare and Beth’s separation.

Clare straightened her spine. It never sat well with her when someone learned of her past. Avid curiosity glowed in people’s eyes when they found out about her. That curiosity was usually followed by pity.

None of that was in Jake’s expression now. She resented the intrusion though, just the same. She didn’t care to be under his microscope.

“It wasn’t necessary for you to do a search on Beth,” Clare said. “This isn’t a full scale investigation. We have only one person to interview—the grocery store owner—and then your part in finding my sister is over.”

“It is an investigation, though unofficial, and whether I conduct one interview or dozens, I don’t go into a job without knowing anything about it. You know how I work. If you don’t like my methods, you shouldn’t have accepted my offer of help.”

Clare’s cheeks heated. “My mistake then, in thinking you wouldn’t treat this as a job since it doesn’t involve the Bureau. I thought you were just one old friend helping out another old friend.”

Jake eyed Clare. “Whatever we once were, it was never friends.”