Midnight Exposure (8 page)

Walking briskly, she turned off Main Street onto Third. The inn sat two blocks down. She hadn’t expected the street to be deserted and dark this early. It wasn’t even five yet. In Philadelphia, commuters would’ve crowded the sidewalks at his hour. She quickened her stride.

The hairs on her nape lifted in the frigid wind. She stopped. Her head swiveled. No one behind her. No sound but dry leaves blowing in the gutter and the beat of her own heart echoing in her ears.

The feeling intensified as she began walking again. Her grip on the bookstore bag tightened. She glanced behind her. The street was empty. The light from the inn’s porch beckoned from halfway up the next block. Jayne picked up her pace.

She approached the inn. Relief welled in her chest as her feet hit the brick path. She checked the street behind her again to find it clear. She’d never used medication before, but if unfounded anxiety was going to plague her like this, she might consider it. She couldn’t live in a state of paranoia 24/7.

High hedges lined the walkway. Steps from the porch, she passed through their shadow.

Blinding pain and a flash of brilliant white light exploded in her head. She pitched forward and was caught. She was barely cognizant of movement and the agony that ricocheted through her skull before darkness consumed her.

“Hey, Brandon.” Scott crammed his books into his backpack and shut his locker. He turned down the near-empty hallway and tapped his buddy Brandon on the shoulder. “Hang on a minute, dude.”

Brandon whirled, wide-eyed.

“Whoa. Relax.” Scott backed away a step, hands in front of his chest, palms forward in the classic stick-’em-up position. “I just wanted to see if you were gonna be online later for a little Halo action.”

“Sorry, man. No can do.” Brandon ran a shaky hand through his spiked blond hair. “I got a couple hours community service to do over at the Youth Center.” Brandon’s eyes shifted toward the open glass-and-metal door at the end of the hall, where a dull gray sky promised snow. “Looks like the mayor’ll have me shoveling sidewalks all weekend.”

Both boys turned and headed for the doors.

“Shit. I forgot. How many more hours did you get?” Scott yanked his hood out from under the back of his jacket and flipped it over his head.

Brandon huffed. “Fucking Judge Hard-Ass gave me two hundred.”

“That sucks.” Stiff penalty for getting caught with a couple of beers, Scott thought.

“You know how it is. People hear the name Griffin and automatically think I’m the
bad seed
.” Brandon’s mouth thinned down to a razor’s edge. With a deadbeat dad and a brother in prison, everyone assumed Brandon was a troublemaker. The judge had handed down the harshest sentence possible for what Scott thought was a minor infraction.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Brandon nodded.

“You working at the auto shop tonight, too?”

Brandon shook his head. “Gotta be home by eight to watch my little brothers. Mom’s tending bar tonight.”

“You’ve been putting service time in every day. Is Hall a total prick to work for?”

“No.” Brandon’s face flushed with emotion. Anger? Frustration? He stiffened and faced Scott, his jaw set for a fight. “Mayor Hall’s cool. If he hadn’t stepped in, I might’ve gone to jail. My mom ain’t exactly rolling in cash for a fancy lawyer.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, man,” Scott said. Mrs. Griffin worked two jobs, but she didn’t make much money.

“No. My bad. I’m kinda jumpy. We’re cool.” Brandon blinked hard. His gaze dropped to the backpack clenched in his hands. “But really, Hall’s OK. He lets Mom waitress at the diner a couple of shifts a week.”

“That’s great’cause I’m supposed to help out with the winter coat drive on Monday.” Not that Scott was thrilled with spending six hours at the Youth Center sorting used clothing, but this was senior year and his college applications were sorely lacking in community service. Mayor Hall
had
been cool about letting him jump into the Teen Community Service program midyear. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. “You gonna do the clothing drive?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be there. The storm should be over, and it sure as hell beats some of the other stuff I’ve had to do.” Brandon drifted a few feet away, heading toward the sidewalk that led to the town’s center a few blocks away. “I gotta go.”

“You want a ride?” Scott nodded toward his dad’s truck as it pulled up to the curb.

“No, thanks.” Brandon waved over his shoulder.

“See ya.” Scott opened the door of the Yukon and tossed his backpack over the seat. The mayor might have done him a favor, but he still didn’t envy his friend and all the hours Brandon had to spend with the guy.

Reed dished steaming lasagna onto two plates. At his feet, Sheba wagged her tail hopefully. “Scott, dinner’s ready.”

Reed scooped a cup of kibble into the dog’s bowl. Sheba pointedly ignored her food. “That’s all you’re getting.”

Her blue eyes said, “We’ll see.”

His son ambled in and slid onto a stool at the counter. Sheba planted herself under his chair, having identified Scott as the weak link five minutes after they rescued her from the animal shelter years ago.

“Are those college applications done?”

“Mostly.” Scott shoveled lasagna with speed and precision. Reed did not miss the noodle his son slipped to the dog.

“Mostly?”

Scott downed half a glass of milk. “Dad, I’ll get them done on time. Relax.”

Reed kept his nod silent. There was no changing his son’s basic personality. Scott would never feel any urgency or stress over schoolwork. So, moving on: “I have a question to ask you.”

His son looked up, a forkful of pasta hovering in front of his mouth. “’Kay.”

Reed let the statement out like he’d been holding his breath. “I stopped to see the chief today.”

Cheeks bulging with food, Scott nodded.

Reed searched his son’s eyes for any sign of distress. Mild curiosity blinked back at him. “He asked me to help with one of his cases.”

Scott swallowed. “Is it about the guy they found at the quarry?”

Surprised, Reed answered, “Yes, but please don’t tell anyone. Hugh wants to keep the whole thing quiet for now.”

“OK, but everybody at school knows they found him.” Scott put his fork down. “You’re gonna help him, right?”

“It’d be OK with you?”

“Sure. The chief wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Scott pointed to the foil pan on the stove. “Is there more?”

“Uhm. Yes,” Reed answered in a confused fog. Scott was acting very nonchalant about the whole police-work issue.

“Cool.” Scott took his plate to the stove and filled it again. The discussion hadn’t affected his appetite.

Reed had expected his son to be upset at the thought of Reed helping Hugh, especially with a murder case. But Scott was no longer a grieving twelve-year-old. His son was a young man. How much did Scott even remember about the aftermath of his mother’s death? The media coverage had been vicious, but Reed had shielded him as much as possible.

On impulse, Reed blurted out, “I had coffee with that lady tourist this afternoon.”

“The same one that was here yesterday? The lost one?” Scott mumbled around a mouthful of lasagna.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Scott finished his second plateful, rose, and rinsed his dish at the sink. “Back to work.” He poured a second glass of milk and took it with him, along with an entire box of graham crackers. The dog followed him, casting a disdainful glance at her bowl on the way.

It hadn’t been easy, but Scott had learned to deal with his mother’s death. At least one of them had. Reed had been so busy helping Scott handle the grief, he hadn’t dealt with his own.

Reed stared at his dinner with no appetite. He covered his untouched plate with tinfoil and stowed it in the refrigerator. Maybe later. After more than five years in an emotional standstill, his life had received a jump start, all because a beautiful redhead had supposedly missed a turn.

Or had she?

Wait. He had no reason to doubt her. He’d been a cop too long. Not everyone had ulterior motives. If he was going to let go of the past, he was going to have to learn to trust people again. The article on R. S. Morgan she’d been reading didn’t mean a thing. It
was
last week’s issue of
The New York Times
. Plenty of people read it. The fact that she’d saved that section of the paper didn’t mean anything other than that she liked art.

He’d still Google her and check with Hugh to see if anything turned up in the background check the chief was sure to run.

As he cleaned up the kitchen, Reed’s thoughts locked on Jayne, and the trauma she’d endured. She wasn’t hiding. She hadn’t even let the parole of her assailant keep her down. He pictured her
chin, lifted in rebellion as she’d told him about the prosecutor’s betrayal, and the unyielding set of her shoulders. The posture of a warrior. Fear was her constant companion, but there was no trace of cowardice in her, just raw courage.

If Jayne could recover from a vicious assault and get on with her life, Reed could deal with his wife’s death—without hiding. He couldn’t attract any unnecessary attention. Subjecting Scott to another media feeding frenzy wouldn’t be fair, even for a young man. But Hugh had promised to keep Reed’s involvement in the case quiet. Reed trusted the chief to keep his word, and Hugh had his own reasons for maintaining radio silence on the investigation.

He wasn’t up to discussing the case tonight, but tomorrow he’d go see Hugh, tell the chief he’d changed his mind. The decision lifted some of the weight from his chest. But not all.

Now that he’d resolved the issue with Hugh, his parting from Jayne stood out like a flashing neon sign: EPIC FAIL. Reed reached for the phone. She’d bared her soul. She’d confided in him about her life’s most traumatic moment, and he’d told her to
enjoy her stay
?

Idiot
. Or as Scott would say,
lame
.

He should apologize and ask her to lunch tomorrow. So she lived far away? Buying her a meal didn’t equal a lifelong commitment. It would just be a meal. Granted, it would be the first date he’d had in twenty years, but he had to start somewhere. Even if the idea made his palms sweat.

The storm was forecast to crank up in the afternoon, but he should be able to get into town for lunchtime. He’d have to drive in to pick up Scott at school anyway. The thought of talking to Jayne again sent his pulse into a jog. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Ridiculous. He felt like he was back in high school as he dialed the inn’s number.

Mae answered, “Hey, handsome. How was the date?”

Damn caller ID and small-town gossip.

“It was just coffee, Mae.” Reed tapped the phone on his forehead as Mae’s
yeah, right
chuckle came through the line. “Can you put me through to Jayne’s room, please?”

“I would love to, but she’s not here. You want to leave her a message?”

Ice filled Reed’s empty belly. Across the kitchen, snowflakes blew across the window. “She’s not there?”

“No,” Mae said. “Never came back this afternoon. My, is it eight already? I didn’t realize it was that late. I hope she’s OK.”

“Could she have come in while you were in the back?”

“It’s possible, I guess.” But doubt colored Mae’s voice. “But I’ve been catching up on the books for the past couple of hours. Haven’t left the desk.”

“Could you check her room?” Reed reminded himself to breathe. Jayne was probably in her room, reading.

“Yeah. Good idea. I’ll call you back.” Mae clicked off.

Reed watched the phone for the next five minutes, jumping when it finally rang.

“She’s not in there, Reed. Doesn’t look like she’s been back at all.”

“I’m heading over. Call Hugh.” Reed hung up. His cop instincts emerged, telling him something was very wrong with the situation. Jayne was in danger.

“Scott,” he shouted up the hall. His son popped his head out of his doorway. “That lady tourist is missing. I’m headed into town to help look for her.”

“I’m coming, too.” Scott hustled out of his room, joining Reed at the coatrack. They donned hats, parkas, gloves, and boots in silence. For once, Scott didn’t ask a thousand questions.

Twenty minutes later, Reed pulled up to the curb in front of the inn. Hugh was sweeping the beam of a flashlight over the inn’s front lawn.

Reed jumped down from the cab, Maglite in hand, dread roiling in his gut. “Any luck?”

Hugh shook his head. “Not yet. I checked her room. All her stuff is there, but no bookstore bag.”

Scott joined them on the sidewalk, turning his back to the bone-rattling wind. “She doesn’t have a car. Where could she have gone?”

Hugh consulted his pocket-sized notebook. “On my way over, I stopped at the stores on Main Street. No one’s seen her since she left the bookstore. She was the last customer. According to the register, she checked out at four forty-five.”

“I left a little after four.” Guilt hammered Reed’s conscience. He should have walked her to the inn. Scott was seventeen. He could’ve waited, but Reed had once again used his son as a social shield. Somehow Jayne had slid past his defenses. And he’d bolted. Like a coward. He’d had something wonderful within reach, and he’d run from it. “She said she was going to buy a book and go right back to the inn.”