Voices Carry (25 page)

John left the room quietly. When he returned twenty minutes later with two cups of coffee, she was still sitting in the same position. Hunched over the table, her head resting on her right elbow, the fingers of her left hand tapping slowly, but oh so impatiently, on the file.

He sat the coffee next to her and went back to his place across the table from her without speaking. He’d chosen the seat deliberately, where he could look directly at her without making it obvious that even in the midst of something as important as the investigation at hand, he still could barely keep his eyes off her.

She was always beautiful to him, and John loved to watch her at work. When she concentrated, her brows raised just the tiniest bit and knit together just ever so slightly, giving her the look of an endlessly curious child. It softened her and made her appear so much younger, so much more vulnerable than the cool and efficient mantle she so often wore.

Warmed just to be near her for so long, near enough to catch the light scent of her perfume, John picked up his pencil and went back to taking notes, reflecting, just for a moment, on the fact that Genna never had to write anything down. The times when she did take notes, she did so merely to preserve the information for others. She simply never forgot what
she read, or what she heard, and it never failed to amaze him that she could cull from memory the most obscure facts from cases long forgotten by everyone else. Just one more thing that he had always admired about her.

She stirred slightly as she pushed the papers before her into a neat pile and returned them to their envelope.

“Anything?” He asked, even while knowing that had there been anything, she’d have told him so.

She shook her head and reached for the coffee.

“Thank you,” she said after taking a few sips and opening the second of her two folders.

Later, after having read through the preliminary reports, she refiled them, and sighed.

“What?” John asked without looking up.

“These two women seemed to be so much alike as to almost be interchangeable. They both come from nice families, nice backgrounds. Went to college. Married nice, stable men. Had children whom they love and close circles of friends, go to church, contribute to their communities. Everyone says how happy they were.”

“So?”

“So, I guess I just can’t help but wonder if they were always this happy. If their lives were always this perfect. So far, all I’ve read about both of these women leads me to think that their little boats were never rocked. And frankly, I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, you’ll have a chance to find out when you start interviewing those same family and friends. I figure we’d take the rest of the day to read through, then we’d spend Friday morning going over what we’ve found.
On Friday afternoon we’ll go our separate ways and see if we can learn something that the locals may have missed.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Genna smiled and pushed herself back from the table.

“Is your hotel all right?” John asked casually. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get us all in the same place, but there are a few conventions in town.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Thank you. The room is lovely,” she replied.

He watched as she packed up her files and her briefcase and swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” she said softly, pausing in the doorway as if wanting to add something, then thinking better of it, left the room without looking back.

John sat quietly for a few long moments, swiveling his chair seat from side to side, deep in thought, wondering how he had managed to spend the last few days in her company without grabbing her by the arms and kissing her until she either collapsed or begged for mercy.

Of course, it pleased John to be working with her once more. No stone would be unturned, he knew, in piecing together whatever tiny splintered fragments of evidence they would be able to uncover at this late date. If it was possible to find a trail, Genna, ever so detail-oriented, would help to locate it. It could be the smallest bit of information that could trigger something in her mind, and that small something could lead to the break they were looking for.

But her presence there meant something more to John. It allowed him to look at her, maybe even to touch
her. To be close to her, and he longed for that closeness, had missed it terribly. She drew him like a magnet, and he’d never for a moment considered it a weakness. And he’d never been able to give up the hope that someday he’d win her back.

Maybe today
. John smiled wistfully to himself as he, too, packed up his files and prepared to leave.

The thought lingered even as he left the building. As he walked to his car. As he drove back to his town house and parked out front.

Maybe today.

He sat behind the wheel, the engine still running, remembering how it had been, several years back, when they’d first started dating. How he’d wined and dined her, how they’d taken long, romantic walks in the moonlight, holding hands and talking about their goals, their reasons for seeking out careers in law enforcement, their hopes for the future. Looking back, it seemed to him that they had fallen in love step by step, day by day.

And here they were, just a few short years later, together again in DC, where they’d once spent so much time together.

A smile began to spread slowly across his face and his fingers tapped thoughtfully on the steering wheel. He turned off the car, gathered up his files, and whistling as headed across the parking lot with a spring in his step, planned his evening.

It was close to seven-thirty when Genna heard the knock on her door. Thinking it was way too soon for the tray of fruit and club soda she’d just called for, she opened the door to find a casually dressed John Mancini standing before her.

“I thought maybe you could use a break about now,” he said, making no attempt to enter her room.

“Actually, I had just called room service for a snack,” she told him, looking over his shoulder in hopes of seeing a cart being wheeled around the bend in the corridor.

“A snack?” he asked. “It’s dinner time.” He glanced at his watch. “Actually, it’s past dinner time. If you’re eating on Patsy-time.”

Genna laughed and checked the time on her own watch.

“You’re right. I didn’t realize it was so late. No wonder I’m so hungry.”

“Could I interest you in a quick dinner?” he asked nonchalantly, knowing full well that a quick meal was the last thing on his mind.

Genna looked down at the light gray knit shorts and white tank top that she wore. Her feet were bare.

“I’m not really dressed,” she stated the obvious.

“I’m sure there’s someplace casual close by where we can catch a bite.”

She bit her bottom lip, and John knew she was inwardly debating.

Good.

“Just give me a minute to pull on a skirt and to find my sandals.” She smiled. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

As if he’d thought of much else except her and the case since she’d arrived in the city.

“How about I wait for you in the lobby?” He suggested.

“That’d be fine,” she nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Genna closed the door, and leaned back against it.
What was she thinking? What had happened to her resolve to keep it simple, keep it friendly and professional?

It’s only a casual dinner. I can keep it friendly and professional,
she asserted as she folded up the file she’d been reading.
This is just dinner. No big deal.

Of course, it’s not,
she told herself cynically, dialing room service to cancel her order.
It’s only dinner in the city where they fell in love. Dinner in the city where he broke her heart.

Hadn’t she spent the better part of the past forty-eight hours trying to ignore the fact that every time she looked at him, her heart began to beat just a little bit faster? That she’d had to remind herself on far too many occasions that she wasn’t there to stare across the table at him? That there was an important case unfolding before her, that she was an important member of the team intended to investigate it, and that she’d better pay more attention to what was being said and less attention to John’s body language?

“I haven’t missed a thing,” she muttered to herself as she moved hangers around in the closet, looking for a short summer skirt that would be appropriate for a quick meal on a hot summer night in the nation’s capital. “I heard every word that was spoken over the past two days. I can recite the names of the missing and where they’re from. And before I’m through, I’ll know the names of their spouses and the ages of their kids and every move they made on the day they went missing.”

She paused in front of the bathroom mirror to run a brush through her hair and pull it up into a tidy ponytail.

It’s just hard, being so close to him. It reminds me of other days when we worked together. Other cases. Other times. . .

“Times long gone,” she said aloud, as if to remind herself of that, too. “In the past. Finished. Done. History.”

Then why, she asked herself as she closed her door behind her, was her pulse racing and her feet flying to the elevator?

“So, have you gotten any vibes on our case?” John asked after they had been seated in a nearby pub.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head slowly as she opened the menu and began to read. “I think I’ll have the roast beef sandwich.”

“Sounds good. Me too.” John handed the menus back to the waiter. “Two roast beefs. And a very large order of onion rings.”

“I haven’t had onion rings in. . . I can’t remember when.”

“Then you’re due to indulge.”

She grinned.

“You sound like Patsy. Always prodding me to eat.”

“How is Pats?”

“I spoke with her last night. She and Chrissie are having a ball. Patsy’s teaching Chris to fish, to sail, to paddle a canoe. All the things she taught me, that first summer I was with her.”

“How do you feel about sharing her?”

“You mean, am I worried that Chrissie might take my place with Patsy?” Genna’s eyes gleamed. “Not for a second. I know exactly what I mean to Pats. I’m just delighted that Chris is having an opportunity, for once
in her life, to feel that special to someone else. You know how Pats is. She makes everyone feel that they are the most important person in the world. Chrissie’s never had anyone treat her that way. It’s time she did.”

Genna poured sugar substitute from a pink packet into her iced tea.

“On the other hand, yeah, sure, I’d rather be sailing, as they say. I’d like to be there to be part of whatever it is they are doing.” She sipped at her tea. “Especially since Patsy’s birthday is next week.”

“Well, maybe you can slip away for a night,” John told her. “We’ll be doing a lot of traveling around over the next week or so.”

“I don’t want to take any time from the investigation,” she said. “Everyone else will be working sixteen-hour days. I don’t want to be the slacker on the team.”

“I doubt anyone will ever have cause to call you a slacker. I just meant, maybe you’ll get enough of a break to make a little side trip to the lake.”

“If I had the time, I’d certainly stop in for a night. I do miss Pats.” She sighed. “I’m even missing Chris.”

“What’s so strange about that? She’s your sister.”

“All those years we were apart, I tried so hard not to think about her. Not to miss her.”

“Any idea of what she’s going to do, ultimately?”

“No. I suspect the past few weeks have been overwhelming for her. And Pats probably hasn’t given her time to catch her breath.” Genna leaned back in her seat as the waiter appeared with their sandwiches and positioned their plates on the narrow wooden plank table. “I think Chrissie came looking for me mostly to ease her conscience, maybe to
establish some type of relationship with me, but I’m sure she wasn’t prepared for Pats.”

John laughed aloud.

“I wonder if anyone is ever prepared for people like Patsy.”

“She’s one in a million, that’s for sure.” Genna speared an onion ring from the platter and draped it over the end of her plate. “I’m just hoping that Chrissie is able to adapt. You know, from being without any stable family life for so long, then going into a group home, and from there to Patsy’s, well, it might be hard for Chris.”

“You adapted.” John took another bite out of his sandwich.

“I was younger, and I hadn’t seen all that Chrissie’s seen. Haven’t had to deal with a lot of what she’s had. And I had advantages that she’s never had.”

“Well, she’ll have them now,” John reminded her.

“If she stays,” Genna told him.

“How likely is it that she’d leave?”

“I don’t know. We’ve not talked about the future. I’m not good at looking ahead.”

“Not real good at looking back, either,” John muttered.

“I heard that,” she put her fork down. “I’m working on it.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s encouraging. Want to tell me exactly what it is that you’re working on? Perhaps I can help refresh your memory.”

“Thanks,” she said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll let you know.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You do that.” She grinned, then to change the subject, asked, “Quick, the guy by the door in the seersucker suit. What do you suppose he does for a living?”

“Too easy,” John grinned back, pleased that she’d revived the old game they used to play in public places. “Congressional aide.”

“You’re right. That was a no brainer.” Genna bit, then chewed as if contemplating. “Okay, then. The woman in the red blazer sitting alone at the small round table over there.”

“Television news,” John replied, shaking his head. “I can see you’re clearly out of practice.”

“Finished, folks?” The waiter appeared out of no where.

“I am,” Genna nodded.

“I guess we both are,” John told him.

“Can I bring you some dessert? Coffee?”

“Genna?” John asked.

“Nothing for me.”

“Just the check, then,” John said.

“I’m looking forward to the walk back to the hotel.” Genna stood when the waiter returned with the check.