Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (38 page)

Rachel’s heart stopped. “Did he say anything else? Has he talked to Vince?”

“That’s all I know,” Kerrie admitted. “Except that I should trust you if we ever meet, because you’ll support our relationship. I had to bite my tongue not to tell him you already knew.”

Rachel stared in quiet jealousy. Had she actually thought she and Vince had a better—or at least less melodramatic—relationship than Sean and Kerrie? Sean would never dump a woman at the curb. Never drive away leaving her sobbing.
He
was the prize.

And Rachel was the fool.

Kerrie grimaced. “You’ve always been honest with me. So . . .”

Rachel’s stomach knotted. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, answer me this. Do you want to marry Bam Bannerman?”

“What?”

The curly haired blonde smiled in relief. “I didn’t think so. And thank God for small favors, right? He’s not husband material. More like one-night-stand material. I’m not criticizing you,” she added quickly. “Because apparently he’s good at it. But I’m glad you know the score.”

Rachel exhaled sadly. “It’s not about marriage. That’s for sure. But we had something special. He wasn’t sleeping with other girls these past few weeks. He told me that and I believe him.”

“Okay.” Kerrie was clearly confused. “So you thought it was an exclusive relationship.”

“It was—it
is—
an exclusive relationship. That’s not the issue.”

“Exclusive but not permanent?”

“Also not the issue. We’re both okay with that. Or at least I thought he was. And . . .” She sighed. “I thought I was too. I just thought it would end like it started. Hot and sweet. Not cold. Not dismissive.”

“It never ends hot and sweet, Rachel. I wish you had talked to me sooner. I could have told you. Look at me and Coz. It was so good. Now we’re strangers.”

Rachel steeled herself against a wave of tears. “That makes sense.”

Kerrie eyed her sympathetically. “You know what I think happened?”

Rachel was almost sure she didn’t want to hear this, but still said, “What?”

“It was all too much for him. Bam Bannerman in an exclusive relationship? Tied down? It’s a compliment to you, and he must be really crazy about you. But it’s a lot, right? Making love to one woman, keeping his hands off the other ones, telling Sean, then telling the royals? I think he was sitting there, feeling the walls closing in. And he panicked and did what guys do. Found a way to blame
you,
forced a fight, and took off.”

“It was a lot for him to handle,” Rachel agreed, adding silently,
And you don’t even know the half of it. Like firing his old agent and getting pressured by a slicker one.

That seemed bigger by the minute, mostly because Bannerman had been so happy just playing football. But Murf’s constant reminders that he was underpaid—getting ripped off—had ruined that.

He’s like you that way,
she reminded herself.
Doesn’t care about money. Not really. But suddenly, it’s at the top of his list, and it’s weighing on him. Just like it did on Dad.

She squared her shoulders again. “Thanks, Kerrie. That actually helps. He panicked. It’s the perfect word for it. So maybe he’ll talk to me next week after all.” She shook her head. “If he just wants to forget this whole thing, I’ll be devastated, but at least—well, maybe he’ll be the guy I love. Let me down easy. It’s all I can really hope for now.”

“You
love
him?” Kerrie demanded, her eyes widening.

“What?”

“You just said he’s the guy you love.”

“That part doesn’t matter,” Rachel assured her sadly. “I always knew it would end. So love isn’t an important milestone for us.”

“Is this the first time you’ve been in love?” Kerrie’s eyes flashed like bolts of sunlight.
“Tell
him, Rachel. You owe it to yourself.”

“Put
more
pressure on him?”

“That’s just one theory, remember? What if it’s like you said? You hurt his feelings. He thinks you see him as a random, temporary dude. So call him and tell him you’re madly in love. Then if he feels the same way, problem solved.”

Rachel’s heart tried to leap in her chest, but it came crashing down instead. “What if it’s just the opposite? He’s been cooling down. Regretting his promise not to see other women.”

“It still won’t hurt anything. Because if he’s cooled down, or feeling trapped, it’s over anyway. So make the grand gesture.” Kerrie glared, then repeated firmly, “Do it.”

Rachel could see the wisdom in that advice but knew she could never follow it. So she explained to her friend, “There’s this thing he used to say to me. To tease me, but it’s been ringing in my ears. He would say,
Have some pride, teach.
And I guess I do.”

“He calls you ‘teach’?” Kerrie’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s so sweet.”

Rachel nodded, choking back a sob.

The petite blonde jumped up, moved to Rachel’s side of the booth again, and hugged her lovingly. “Maybe pride and romance don’t go together, sweetie. Maybe you can’t have both.”

“Maybe not. But at the moment,” Rachel told her quietly, “pride is the only thing I have.”

Chapter 15

She wanted to wallow, but Monday came at her like a Mack truck. The kids were always sluggish, half awake. Some even experienced some momentary homesickness after a weekend of parental attention. It was up to their kindergarten teacher to coax them into this new and wonderful week.

Even if
her
week promised further misery.

Her practiced eye noted five absentees as the children lined up. Two she had known about in advance because of scheduled vacations. Rachel didn’t actually approve of such absences but knew the parents faced a dilemma, since they had children in private school as well as public. The two spring breaks didn’t mesh, so taking the kindergarteners out for a week seemed like the lesser of two evils.

The other three absences—Kyle, Mary, and Nell—weren’t huge puzzles, since a cold virus was going around. It hadn’t struck Rachel’s class until now, and while she hated to admit it, the timing was perfect. The smaller the class the better for her purposes this week.

The children filed into the room, stowing their belongings in their cubbies, then taking their places on their lily pads. After admonishing them to settle down, Rachel checked her desktop email to confirm the list of present and absent.

Mary and Nell were reported as sick.

The vacationers were accounted for.

No mention of Kyle.

So she checked her phone, but there was no message from Kyle’s parents.

Even though it didn’t mean much, it always made her heart miss a beat. What if something had happened on the way to school? What if the whole family was hurt? Or they were at a loved one’s bedside, so mired in crisis that Mission Bay Elementary wasn’t a blip on their radar.

She punched the preprogrammed number for the attendance office and asked Betty, “Have you heard from Kyle Abrams’s parents? He’s not here yet.”

There was an unexpected silence. Then Betty murmured, “Lynne’s on her way to your room. She’ll explain it.”

“What?”

The kindhearted assistant said softly, “I can’t say anything else. But it’s bad, Rachel. Really bad.”

Stunned, she disconnected the call, her ear as numb as her heart.

Don’t,
she whispered to the universe.
Please don’t
.

It had never happened to her. Not with one of her own students. She knew it was selfish to expect special treatment for them when every child in the universe deserved protection.

But still, she asked it for Kyle.

“Everyone?” she said too brightly. “We’ll get started in a minute. But first, I have a treat for you. A video. And rice cakes.”

“Yay!!!”

“You need to pay attention,” she added, and to her dismay, her voice was almost shrill. “We’ll be playing a game later, where I ask you questions about the baby chicks in the show. So please,
please,
do your best to pay attention.”

A few of them sent her questioning glances, but the lure of rice cakes was strong. Plus animals, the ultimate kiddie catnip. They would be quiet, at least for a while.

And maybe it was a false alarm.

She was already at the door when Lynne Rayburn arrived, grim-faced, and beckoned her into the hall. “This isn’t good, Rachel.”

She wanted to ask the obvious question but couldn’t, so she asked instead, “Will he be okay?”

“God willing.”

“Oh, no.” She grabbed the principal’s arm. “I need to be there. With them. With
him.
Can we ask Betty to stay with my class?”

“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Rayburn murmured. “I should let the police explain it, but they don’t know much either. The parents are on their way.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Twenty-one years and I’ve never had this happen. I don’t know what to do first.”

Rachel borrowed a page from Kerrie Cosner’s playbook. “Just talk to me. Then we can figure it out together.”

Mrs. Rayburn nodded. “No one knows yet. Oh! Here’s Detective Mays. Maybe there’s news.”

A tall, dark-haired man in brown pants and a rumpled white shirt joined them. “Ms. Gillette? I’m Mays.”

Rachel searched his face anxiously. “Is Kyle alive?”

“I don’t know.” His brown eyes fixed on her. “Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Strangers hanging around? Or has the boy said anything out of the ordinary?”

“The boy?”

Mrs. Rayburn stepped between them. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, Detective. Ms. Gillette hasn’t even heard the facts.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Ms. Gillette,” Mays said sheepishly. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

• • •

Mrs. Rayburn stayed with the students while Rachel led Mays to the teachers’ lounge. Along the way, she sorted through his disturbing questions.

He wanted to know if she had seen strangers. Did that mean a stranger had taken Kyle? Some horrible man with furry knuckles and twisted urges?

Or someone who just wants a son of his own,
she assured herself shakily.
Don’t get hysterical. They need your help. So stay focused.

She turned to Mays and asked in a soft voice, “What do we know?”

The detective shrugged. “Not much. He had a cat—”

“Mr. Whiskers? What do you mean, he
had
him? Oh, no! Did the kidnapper use Mr. Whiskers to lure Kyle?”

Mays arched a prosecutorial eyebrow. “You sound so sure it’s a kidnapping. Tell me why.”

“Sorry.” She gulped. “You asked me if I’ve seen strangers lurking around, so I just assumed. But I haven’t seen anyone suspicious. Not at all.”

He nodded, then motioned for her to join him at a small table. When they were seated, he flashed his first real smile. “We don’t know for sure there’s foul play. The dad thinks Kyle just wandered off. Probably to his uncle’s house.”

“Uncle Alex? I thought he was in France.”

Mays eyed her hopefully. “You’re well informed. That works for me.”

Rachel tried to return the positive vibe. “So Mr. Abrams thinks he just wandered away? This morning?”

“Last night.”

Oh, no .
. .

Mays continued quietly. “Sometime
during
the night, I should say. They tucked him in at eight thirty p.m., and he wasn’t in his bed this morning. The window was open, but apparently that’s not unusual. So either he wandered off. Or he was taken.”

“Kyle doesn’t wander off. He’s very well behaved.”

“So I’m told. That’s why the mom thinks someone took him.”

She thought of Kyle’s adorable face and earnest, eager-to-please demeanor. Wasn’t he the type? Except of course he was super-smart. And his parents were vigilant, especially the dad.

No, that wasn’t fair. The mom was just as vigilant, just less antsy about it.

“You mentioned Mr. Whiskers,” she prompted him.

“Yeah, it got run over last night around dinnertime.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. She
loved
that cat.
Everyone
loved that cat.

And Kyle? He adored Mr. Whiskers like a soul mate.

“Kyle took it hard?” she asked, trying not to sob.

“Worse than that. He didn’t believe it,” Mays said, and Rachel noticed his eyes were a bit misty too, thank God. But he pulled himself together and explained, “It was the Abrams cat for sure. The dad had no doubt. They scraped up what was left and buried him in the backyard. A nice little ceremony, I’m told. But the kid didn’t buy it. He sat on the porch for hours, calling for the cat.”

“Oh, no.”

Mays nodded. “He wanted the dad to drive around the neighborhood looking for him. But the dad wanted him to face reality. And trust me, he’s beating himself up over it something fierce.”

Rachel could just picture that. Ken Abrams was a successful lawyer whose personality tended toward shark-ish. He questioned everything, demanded perfection, and loved his kid with the force of a class-five tornado.

“So we think Kyle went looking for Mr. Whiskers?” she asked, feeling tentatively encouraged.

Mays hesitated. Then he admitted, “It’s not that simple. Kyle called the cat for hours, then sat on the front porch till Mrs. Abrams made him go to bed. She’s worried someone saw him out there. And
she’s
beating herself up too, believe me. She thinks she looked like a bad parent, and someone decided to save the kid from her. Give him a better home.”

“Oh, God, nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling. But thanks for confirming it.” He squirmed as though anxious to get on with it. “Here’s the situation. We looked all over the neighborhood for Kyle. Questioned most of the neighbors. Checked out the uncle’s house, which is nine blocks away, just in case the kid forgot they were out of town. So far, no trace.”

“But you’re still looking?”

“We’ve scoured the vicinity,” he assured her. “Now we’re scouring it again. But every minute we don’t find him tells us he might not be in the area at all. He might have gotten into a car.”