The Marriage Profile (7 page)

“You were always a good lawman, Justin, and a good judge of people. I'd be foolish not to take advantage of those facts and pick your brain a little. And while I realize you don't think much of my methods, I know you want to find that little girl every bit as much as I do. Getting your impressions could save me some time and might help us find her faster.”

Her mention about his lack of respect for her abilities reminded him of his earlier behavior. Embarrassed, Justin rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, about that crack I made earlier in my office, I—”

Suddenly headlights flooded the darkened road as a sedan turned onto the street. Justin fell silent as the vehicle
pulled up and parked in the driveway of the corner condo, two units over from Angela's. Moments later laughter spilled out into the quiet night air as a man and woman exited the car. The giggles and laughter died as the pair engaged in a steamy, groping kiss that, in Justin's opinion, went on and on and on.

“They're newlyweds,” Angela explained.

Just what he needed, Justin thought, as the passionate duo locked lips again and made no attempt to move it inside. It reminded Justin of the erotic thoughts that had been occupying his own mind since seeing Angela again.

“Maybe we should finish this conversation inside,” she suggested when the man backed the woman up against the car and began to sample her neck.

Instead of arguing, Justin followed her into the condo and did his best to wipe away the memory of the early days of their own marriage. Like Angela's neighbors, the two of them hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other, either.

“Would you like something to drink?” she offered after leading him into the den.

“Got any beer?”

Angela made a face. “Afraid not. I'm sure I have some wine, though. Or I can offer you iced tea.”

“Tea's good.”

“Still drink it sweetened and with lemon?”

“Yes,” Justin replied, surprised that she'd remembered, because he'd been sure she would have done her best to forget everything about him. Still, he was pleased that she hadn't.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, motioning to the couch. “I'll only be a minute.”

But instead of sitting down, Justin checked out the room. It was larger than he'd first suspected. The walls had been painted a basic white, but big leafy green plants had been tucked in strategic corners. And an eclectic mix of paintings provided splashes of color ranging from sunset orange to midnight blue. Two overstuffed chairs and a couch with an afghan tossed over one arm had been grouped around a marble-and-glass coffee table that was stacked high with books, photos and candles. Huge throw pillows lay on the floor in front of a stone fireplace and gave the room a cozy, welcoming touch. Angela may have moved in only a few days ago, but the place already had a lived-in, homey feel to it.

“Here we are,” Angela said as she entered the room carrying a tray with a pitcher of tea, two glasses and a dish of extra lemons.

“Let me get that for you,” Justin offered, and took the tray from her and placed it on the table.

“Thanks,” she said politely.

Following her lead, Justin sat down. The awkward silence that had hung between them in his office earlier that day reared its head again while she poured them each a glass of tea. Worse, there was a sense of intimacy at being alone in the softly lit room with her that made him far too aware of Angela as a woman and the fact that he was still attracted to her. Determined to say his piece and get out of there as quickly as he could, Justin began, “About that crack I made back in the office about your dreams…I didn't mean it the way it sounded.”

“So you think my psychic mumbo jumbo might actually help us to find the baby, after all?”

Justin grimaced. “Don't put words in my mouth, Ma
son. Just because I don't buy into the psychic stuff doesn't mean I don't recognize that you're good at your job. You are. I doubt there's another profiler in the country who's better. I'm sorry if it sounded otherwise.”

She arched her brow and watched him over the rim of her glass. “Two apologies from you in one day? That must be a record.”

Shame had heat climbing his neck. “I don't usually need to apologize,” he said defensively. “And I try not to make a habit of offending people, particularly women.”

“Then it must be me,” she said, a hint of unhappiness in her voice. “Apparently I bring out the worst in you.”

“Maybe we just bring out the worst in each other.”

“Maybe we do,” she conceded, and stared down into her glass of tea as though it held all the answers to life's mysteries.

She looked so unhappy, so alone, he was tempted to reach out, tip up her chin and rub his thumb along the curve of those sad lips. Realizing the dangerous direction of his thoughts, Justin stood abruptly and stalked over to the fireplace—away from Angela. Away from temptation. He remained silent for one beat, then another, and only when he'd marshaled the wild thoughts she had set off in him did he turn around to face her. “This isn't going to work.”

She tipped her head to the side, gave him a perplexed look. “What isn't going to work?”

“Us. You and me. There's no way we're going to be able to work together on this case. There's just too much history between us.” He jammed a fist through his hair. “Why don't you make it easier on both of us, Angel? Call the feds and tell them you have to pass on this case.”

“I can't.”

“Sure you can,” he insisted as desperation set in. “It's not like you have any ties here. And you haven't invested a lot of time in this case yet. No one's going to think less of you if you say you've changed your mind.”

“You don't realize what you're asking. I can't just walk away.”

“Why not?”

“Because somewhere out there is a baby who's been taken from everyone she knows and loves. You said yourself the FBI has come up empty and there's been no ransom demand of any kind. So whoever has her isn't going to just give her back. She needs me… She needs us to find her.”

“Don't you think I've been trying? That I'll keep on trying?” Justin fired back. “There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I haven't spent hours going over every detail again and again, checking out every lead I get.” Frustrated and afraid he'd revealed too much of the turmoil inside him, Justin turned away and stared into the cold hearth.

He heard only the whisper of movement, and then Angela's voice was behind him saying, “I know you've tried and that you won't stop trying to find her. But together we can find her faster.” When he said nothing, she continued. “Put yourself in Luke Callaghan's shoes, Justin. Suppose I had been able to give you the child you'd wanted, imagine how you'd feel if it was our little girl who had been stolen.”

Her words caught him by surprise. It had been more than five years since he'd even allowed himself to think of what it would be like to be a father. In his arrogance,
he'd assumed that when he was ready to start a family, he and Angela would simply make a baby. Their inability to conceive had been a source of major tension and frustration during that last year of their marriage. The specialists, the fertility drugs, the shots and in-vitro procedures had taken all the joy and pleasure out of their lovemaking, and it had left them both feeling like failures. By the time the third in-vitro attempt failed, Angela had completely withdrawn from him and within weeks she'd been gone from his life.

“If Lena was our daughter, wouldn't you be willing to do anything, use every resource available to you to try to get her back?”

Justin turned around, stared into the stark blueness of her eyes. “You know I would.”

“Then use me.”

He knew her statement wasn't meant to be provocative, but that didn't stop him from experiencing that one-two punch of desire again. Dammit, he didn't want to want Angela.

“Please, Justin,” she said, touching his arm. “Please, let me help you find her.”

Justin locked his eyes with hers. And when her gaze lowered to his mouth, he sucked in a breath. But instead of steadying him, her scent—that hint of apricots, mixed with sweat and female—had a familiar tightness settling in his loins.

And because he was tempted to cup her jaw and taste that mouth, he shoved his fists into his pockets and took a step back. “All right. We'll work the case together. But we do it my way, on my terms. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Go over the file,” he instructed her with a nod toward the folder on the coffee table. “When you've finished, we'll meet in my office and decide where to go from there.”

“All right. But I have a couple of questions—”

“Read the file first, then we'll talk. I've got to go,” he insisted, and headed for the door. And it wasn't until he reached his truck and got behind the wheel that he realized his hands were shaking.

“T
hank you for allowing me to take these,” Angela told Josie Carson, indicating the baby blanket and little stuffed lamb that the other woman had given her following her request for something belonging to Lena. “I promise I'll take good care of them and return them to you soon.”

“Keep them as long as you like. Just find Lena for us,” Josie pleaded, her green eyes bright with the threat of tears.

“I… We'll do our best,” Angela amended, eager to take her leave of the Carsons before Josie's fear and distress overwhelmed her completely. Although Angela had tried to shield herself, she hadn't been able to block out the woman's emotions. It was always one of the drawbacks of being psychic—this hypersensitivity to the people she was trying to help. While she'd become better at controlling it in recent years, for some reason she hadn't been able to do so with Josie. As a result, the woman's pain was now her own.

“Thanks again, Flynt, Josie,” Justin said with a nod of his head, then he followed Angela outside.

Flynt Carson stood on the porch beside his petite wife, placed his arm around her shoulders. “I know Lena is Callaghan's daughter, but we'd appreciate it if you'd keep us informed,” Flynt told Justin.

“Consider it done,” Justin replied, then guided Angela toward his truck.

As Angela walked beside him in silence, she tried to
make her mind go blank, to draw the emotions ricocheting through her into the imaginary box where she could store them away and deal with them later.

When they reached his truck, Justin opened the passenger door and assisted her inside. “You all right?” he asked.

Not trusting herself to speak yet, Angela nodded.

For a moment she thought he would call her on the fib. And she was relieved when he simply shut her door, walked around and climbed into his side of the truck and drove away from the Carsons' house.

But her relief was short-lived when a few miles after they'd exited the Carson Ranch, Justin pulled the truck into a cluster of trees at the side of the road and cut off the engine. He turned to face her. “You want to tell me why you look like someone just ran over your dog?”

“I…” Angela brought her hand to her throat, wondered how to explain to a man who didn't believe in things he couldn't explain logically that she'd been struck by the emotions coursing through Josie Carson.

He tipped up her chin, forced her to look at him. Despite his somber expression, there was no mistaking the concern in those deep green eyes. “Did Josie Carson say something to upset you when the two of you were alone in the baby's room?”

“No,” Angela managed to say.

“Then what's wrong?”

“I… Nothing.”

“It's not nothing if it has you this upset. You can trust me, Angela. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong.”

The husky note in his voice and the way he was looking at her made her want to crawl into his lap and let him comfort her. But to do so would only complicate things. And the situation between them was already rife with com
plications. “It wasn't anything she said. It's what she was feeling. When she picked up the stuffed lamb, she was remembering how much Lena loved it, remembering the way the baby's face lit up the first time she saw it. The empty nursery is a constant reminder that Lena's gone.”

“She tell you that?” Justin asked.

“No,” Angela told him, and braced herself for his skepticism.

Instead Justin simply said, “That baby might not be their flesh and blood, but I suspect they love her all the same. Besides being worried about her, I imagine they're carrying around a lot of guilt, too.”

“They are. Especially Josie.”

“It makes sense. Seeing as how the baby was kidnapped while she was in their care, Josie probably blames herself.”

“She does. And the guilt's eating away at her,” Angela said.

“I'll talk to Flynt, make sure he's aware of how Josie's feeling, suggest he keep her away from the nursery.”

Evidently he read her surprise in her expression because he said, “What?”

“I didn't think you would believe me, that you'd understand.”

“Why not?”

“No reason. I just know how you feel about my psychic ability.”

Justin made a face. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there's nothing psychic going on here that I can see. It's simply a matter of observation. That, and doing what you suggested—putting myself in somebody else's shoes.”

For a moment Angela had actually thought that Justin might at last be willing to acknowledge that her abilities weren't based in anything tangible, that he could accept
that she was different. That he hadn't shouldn't have disappointed her, but it did.

“If you're not feeling well and want to hold off on going to see Luke Callaghan,” he began, breaking into her thoughts, “I can give him a call and arrange for us to go to his place another time.”

“No. I'm okay. And I'd really like to talk to him today.”

“All right,” Justin told her, and started up the truck. “I should warn you, though, Luke is different than you might remember him.”

“Different how?”

“He's blind,” Justin advised her as he pulled the truck back out onto the road.

“Blind?” The good-looking millionaire had always struck her as invincible. “What happened?”

“Some kind of accident while he was out of the country.”

Angela realized at once that it must have happened during the hush-hush military mission Ricky had told her about. She also realized that Justin remained unaware of Luke's governmental activities. “Is it permanent?” she asked.

“I don't think Luke or the doctors know.”

“It must be very difficult for him,” Angela mused aloud. “I can only imagine how he must feel—losing his sight and having his daughter kidnapped.”

“Yeah. Just keep in mind that it's only recently that he even learned that he has a daughter. I don't think you should bank on him being much help.”

 

“As I've told Justin, I doubt that I can be of much help,” Luke Callaghan told her a short time later.

Seated outside on the picturesque patio of the Callaghan
estate, Angela studied Luke. Ever since Ricky had confided in her about the secret military mission for which Luke had been the leader, she found herself viewing Luke through different eyes. Knowing of his military activities, she noticed minor things now—like the way he had positioned himself so that his back faced the wall. And while he appeared relaxed, there was an air of alertness, a readiness about him. Though this demeanor could be attributed to his blindness, Angela didn't think that was the cause. During her marriage to Justin, she had crossed paths with Luke at the Lone Star Country Club a number of times. More often than not, she'd pick up a serious, almost secretive vibe about the man that, at the time, had seemed at odds with his playboy image. Now, at least, she knew why.

He waited until the houseman had finishing pouring them coffee, and not until they were alone once again did he continue. “As Justin's probably told you, I've been out of the country for the last few months on business. It's only since I got back that I even learned I have a child.”

“I'm aware of that,” Angela told him. “What I'm hoping is that you might be able to tell me something about your daughter's mother.”

Luke's mouth hardened, and despite the fact that she knew those blue eyes pinning her like lasers from behind the dark glasses were sightless, Angela had to stop herself from shrinking away. “As I'm sure Justin's told you, I don't know who the woman is.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Because I sure as hell don't.” He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “Despite my reputation, I'm not casual about sex. I certainly don't make a habit of going to bed with a woman I don't even know and bring
ing an innocent child into the world. But obviously, that's exactly what I did.”

Justin clamped his hand down on the other man's shoulder. “No point in beating yourself up over this, Luke. It's done.”

“He's right,” Angela told Luke. “The important thing now is for us to find your little girl. So if there's anything, anything at all, you can remember about the woman, even something that might seem insignificant, it could help us to identify her and possibly find your daughter.”

Luke sighed, seemed to stared off into the distance. “She was a blond, but not the typical pale-eyed, fair-skinned girl-next-door type. She had olive skin and the most exotic-looking dark eyes—sad, lonely eyes, that seemed to look right into a man's soul.”

Angela didn't have to be psychic to know that Luke had felt something for this woman and that she continued to haunt his thoughts. “Do you have any idea of how old she was?”

“She could have been in her late twenties, but I suspect she was closer to my age. Thirty-four.”

“What about her height? Weight?”

“She was about five foot six, slender but not skinny, curves in all the right places,” he said.

“Is there anything else you can remember about her?” Angela asked. “Maybe an accent or something she said that might indicate where she was from?”

“We didn't do a great deal of talking,” Luke informed her, his mouth going flat. “She had an English accent or did a pretty good job of using one when we first hooked up, but as the night wore on, I picked up a hint of a Southern drawl.”

“You never mentioned that to me,” Justin told Luke.

“I didn't think about it until now.”

“Any idea what part of the South?” Angela asked. “Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi?”

“Texas would be my guess,” Luke replied.

Angela couldn't help but notice Justin's frown. Haley Mercado had been from Texas. Could Ricky be right? That his sister really was alive, and that the child might be hers? But surely Luke would have recognized the woman if she'd been Haley—even with a different hair color. From what Ricky had told her, Luke had been very close to Ricky and his sister before the boating accident that had claimed Haley's life and ended the two men's friendship.

“You would think that a man my age would have had the decency to at least make sure he knew the name of a woman he goes to bed with,” Luke said, his voice filled with self-loathing.

“We're here to find your daughter, Luke, not to judge you,” Angela said softly, wanting to ease his torment.

“You don't have to judge me. I've already done that myself. And I can tell you that I don't measure up very well,” Luke informed her. “There's no excuse for my actions. Because of me, because of my own selfishness, there's a little girl out there somewhere at the mercy of God knows what kind of people.”

“Cut yourself some slack, Callaghan,” Justin told him. “It doesn't sound like the woman needed much coaxing.”

Luke's hands balled into fists. His eyes grew stormy. “She wasn't some cheap floozy.”

“I never thought for a minute she was,” Justin assured him. “I may not know her, Callaghan, but I do know you. You'd never fall for a floozy.”

Seemingly mollified by Justin's response, Luke flexed his fingers. His spine lost some of its stiffness. “She and I… The sparks were just there. The minute I saw her come
into the bar, I wanted her. It was as though… I can't explain it,” he said.

“You don't have to. I know what you mean.”

Something in Justin's voice caught Angela's attention, and she looked over at him. Her pulse quickened when she found his green eyes trained on her with such intensity. But just as quickly he averted his gaze.

“Since there's still been no ransom demand,” Justin began, “there's a good chance that whoever took Lena doesn't realize she's your daughter.”

“And what happens when they find out? What do you think the odds are that we'll get her back alive even if I do fork over money? I have enemies,” he spit out. “And I'm not talking about the kind you meet over a boardroom table or at the Lone Star Country Club. If they were to find out—” Removing his glasses, he scrubbed a hand down his face, and when he looked up at them out of eyes that Angela knew could not see, he said, “You've got to find her before anyone discovers that I'm her father.”

“Not many people know about the connection,” Justin assured him. “Anyone who asks is being told that Angela was brought in at the request of the Carsons.”

“There is one other person who knows Luke is the father,” Angela corrected him, and both men looked at her. “Lena's mother,” she explained. “I understand she left the baby on the golf course, with a note saying that one of your golfing foursome was the father and asking you to take care of the baby until she came back for her. So she obviously knew who you were, Luke.”

“She's right,” Justin added. “Unfortunately, we don't know who
she
is. What I still haven't been able to figure out is if the woman knew who you were, why she didn't just come right out and tell you about the baby from the get-go? Why go through the pregnancy and have the baby
without saying anything to you, only to leave her on the golf course for you to find her?”

“Maybe she didn't feel she had any other choice,” Angela said.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“From what Josie and Flynt Carson told me, the little girl had been well cared for, loved. It doesn't sound to me like she was unwanted. So maybe the mother never intended to tell you about the baby.”

“Only something happened and she couldn't keep her a secret anymore,” Justin added.

“Exactly. And whatever it was that forced her to leave Lena, she apparently felt it prevented her from contacting you directly for help. So she left the baby on the golf course where she thought you would find her. She wouldn't have had any way of knowing that the sprinkler system would kick on and your name would be obliterated on the note. As far as she knew, you would find the note and the baby.”