Not Without Her Child, page 12
“You know I think you’re going off the rails sometimes, letting Clint play you.”
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be good. Finding no need to answer, she held his gaze steadily.
“I also know that there’s nothing I can do about that.”
Get on with it, already. She had to move forward, alone or not. Itched to get working on the blue barn.
Couldn’t afford to use up vital emotional focus on a long drawn-out ending of employment. He wasn’t the only expert investigator in the country. Maybe not even in Sierra’s Web.
The last thought brought no comfort whatsoever.
She didn’t want another investigator barging into her life.
She wanted Brian.
“I can’t work next to a firecracker.”
She blinked but then returned immediately to holding his gaze. He looked as serious as she’d seen him.
Not angry, though. As if he got that her actions were no reflection on him.
He was different...even in his displeasure with her.
She should make it easier on him to leave her. Couldn’t find any words that would actually exit her mouth.
“Here’s what I propose...”
Wait. What? She blinked again and hated that she’d lost that second of contact.
“You’re going to do what you’re going to do, and I’m going to have to find a way to be okay with that.”
She loved him. Well, not loved loved him, but... She tried not to smile as she nodded. He wasn’t leaving her!
Or trying to change her, either, as Clint would have done.
“But I need something from you.”
Pulling back a little on the elation, she waited.
“I need your total honesty, Jessica. I have to know what you’re doing. Where you’re going, as it pertains to Brooke’s disappearance.”
If she’d told him about the direct selling, and had inadvertently walked into a traffickers’ den, as he’d suggested was possible, he’d have known where to start on his search for her, and would likely have found Brooke in the process.
Even if she was dead and therefore unable to free her daughter herself.
“You’ve got it.”
This time he sat back. “Just like that?”
Her shrug wasn’t feigned. “What you say makes complete sense. Beyond that, it’s fair. I did you a disservice this week by not filling you in on my actions. Could maybe even have put your life in danger by opening a can of worms you didn’t know was opened. It won’t happen again.”
The way he watched her, the way those striking hazel eyes seemed to warm right there while connected to her gaze...she’d never forget that moment.
Not in a dozen lifetimes.
* * *
The woman didn’t make excuses. Didn’t get defensive.
She didn’t back down either. Not when it came to her doing what she believed to be the right thing for her to do.
Thinking of how she’d just taken on her insidious ex-husband, he figured she had more strength in her gaze alone than he had in his entire body.
Brian hadn’t ever met anyone like her.
“We need to get working on the blue barn. It’s a new clue. Let’s see if it leads someplace solid.” He didn’t break eye contact as he spoke.
Neither did she. Even as she nodded.
“You want to go out for some dinner?” They had a weekend to plan. And he was hungry. For more than just food but was also smart enough to know which parts of himself to feed.
“While we work?”
“Of course.” He was on the clock, her clock, and time was ticking on her ability to continue holding on without getting herself hurt. He got cold all over again, thinking of her walking door-to-door, alone, in that remote area of the state all week.
There were no chances she wouldn’t take for her daughter. As much as he hated what that meant, for her own safety and well-being, he also understood.
And admired her for it.
Who wouldn’t want to have someone like her in their court?
Unless, of course, that tenacity got her killed and then...
“You like Indian food?” she asked, standing, reaching for her journal and a couple of folders. “One of my clients told me about this great place downtown and...”
Brian stood, too, gathered the pieces of himself that seemed to fall down around her, and took his employee/client out to a working dinner.
Promising himself, and whatever fates there were, that he would die before he let her down.
* * *
He offered to let her drive. Since Jessica truly didn’t mind being a passenger, and knew he did, she was quite happy to hand him the keys. To be able to give him what he needed without abandoning herself. In those last months, Clint had only needed or wanted what was counterproductive to her. Every single second with him had been a test of her loyalty. Her service to him.
She’d felt the problem before she’d seen it.
And... Brian was only a business associate. They were not going on a date. He was not a personal item in her life.
Still, it was...nice...to be heading out for a meal with a decent, healthy man.
Maybe, once she found Brooke, there’d be opportunity to have another man in her life. To have a loving companionship. Though she didn’t trust herself to bring another man into her daughter’s life.
She’d proven over the past fifteen months that she didn’t need a man to complete her. She’d managed just fine on her own. Had preferred to be alone. Wouldn’t have called Sierra’s Web, or met Brian, if it hadn’t been for Brooke.
But wanting...maybe there could be some of that.
Once Brooke was home.
Sitting silent beside the expert investigator, she let her thoughts flow in stream of consciousness. Giving herself a moment or two to breathe. To recover equilibrium, to remember that life encompassed so much more than Clint Johnson’s diabolical head games.
A weekly process. One she’d pretty much mastered. One made oddly easier with Brian Powers sharing her space.
Until they arrived at the restaurant and she saw the crowded parking lot, the people waiting outside for their table, and heard the noise coming from within. Taking a deep breath, she braced for the onslaught her inner self did not need. She’d invited him to dinner. Had suggested the place.
“You like pizza?” Brian asked as he circled, looking for a parking spot.
“I promised you a fine dining experience.”
“And I’ll hold you to it, with a rain check,” he said. “Unless you really want to go in there right now.”
She must have looked pathetic...and he was her employee...
Sitting upright, she noticed, again, his pants and shirt, leather belt and shoes. Going-out-nice apparel more than pizza joint. “I’m good to go in,” she said, pointing to a vacant parking place.
“I didn’t think you weren’t up for it,” he told her. “I just think it’s been a long week, we only have two days in which to find a blue barn before you have to go back to work, and we aren’t going to get much work done in there with all that noise.”
Looking at him for a long moment, she tried to decide if he was taking pity on her. Wondered why the idea bothered her so much.
Wondered why she couldn’t just let someone—a man—do something nice for her.
Another casualty of Clint’s warfare?
“I’d very much like to go home, order pizza, and get to work,” she told him.
Two minutes later, after fighting with herself over whether or not to speak, she added, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure.” Total truth. “I’m just...thankful that you’re here. That I’m not eating alone tonight. That we’re going to get to work. That I didn’t have to drive. And that...you’re you.”
That. The last part. So much.
Maybe too much.
He kept driving, his profile giving nothing away. And then a red light happened. He stopped. Turned to look at her.
Really look at her. Intensely.
For that second, there was only him. And her.
And the warmth flooding the SUV.
Then the light turned green.
* * *
He had a thing for his client. For the woman paying him for his service.
Halfway through the pizza they were sharing, sitting at her dining room table with their laptops and papers and folders, her journal, his notes spread all around them, Brian glanced at Jessica and was swamped with an urge to push that stray piece of hair out of her eyes.
It had fallen from her ponytail.
He wanted to see all of that glorious blond hair falling free around her. For her to have five minutes without care.
“What?” She’d glanced up to take a bite of pizza and caught him staring at her.
“Your dad left when you were three.” Her family history had been in Brooke’s case file. Family members were often suspects in kidnappings.
“Yeah, so?” The bite of pizza she took dripped sauce beside her mouth. He had to look away before temptation to lick it off took more of him than he could afford to give.
“And Clint... I imagine, early on, pleasing him became part of what you did to keep the relationship together.”
She’d dropped the pizza slice back onto the paper plates she’d provided for both of them. Was chewing more slowly. “You work at a relationship,” she said when she’d swallowed. “It doesn’t just happen.”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to make her defensive. Wasn’t sure what he’d meant to do. Or why.
“I just... You’re an incredible woman, Jessica. It pisses me off that the two men who should have honored you, crapped on you instead.”
There. He sighed. Grabbed his slice of pizza. And, as she picked up her own slice, bit and chewed, he finished off his own.
* * *
They worked until after midnight. With aerial views online, they’d found half a dozen blue barns in the state. Four of them within a couple of hours from Lincoln. Two between Fayetteville and Lincoln. Of those two, one was an older structure on private property. The other, a wholesale shoe store.
Jessica had searched children’s books for blue barn images, and downloaded three in e-book form. She’d also searched children’s stores. Movies, brand names and food containers showed up under searches. She made notes.
A few minutes after midnight, she was starting to think she should kick Brian out when her text app sounded the small ding notification sound she’d chosen.
Brian’s gaze met hers, briefly, and then he went back to work.
He wouldn’t know that she never got texts that late at night. Was probably thinking it was a romantic thing.
And... Ma.
Grabbing her phone, heart pounding, she opened the app. Who else would text that late? And only if Jackie had an emergency...
She didn’t recognize the number. Pushed to read the message.
I’m watching you.
Tossing her phone out of her hand as though it was on fire, she stared at it. Shaking.
Brian was on it as it hit the table. He didn’t ask questions, just read the message still on the screen. Grabbed his own phone and dialed Anderson, getting the man out of bed.
Five minutes later, moments filled with stiff chins and silent thoughts, they had a callback.
The message had come from a burner phone. And the patrol in the area had found no one lurking near her home.
“They’re putting a car on the house for the rest of the night,” Brian said as he hung up. And met her gaze for the first time since she’d tossed her phone.
“You have to go. Now,” she told him, trembling from the inside out. The message was from Clint. She knew it in her bones. “He’s probably set up some kind of hidden camera on the house...has been watching me for fifteen months on some computer program he logs into from the prison.” Stopping as she heard herself aloud, recognized the absurdity of what she was saying.
But she knew.
“We’ll have the place checked for bugs first thing in the morning,” Brian told her. And then, not standing and getting the hell out of there, said, “It’s possible that you ruffled some feathers this week, Jessica. You had your phone number on the booklet you showed me. I’m assuming it was on all of the ones you handed out as well.”
He made sense.
Too much sense.
More sense than her own suspicions.
Scared now, on two fronts, she stared at him. Trying to find her peace. Her strength. She could stay in her house alone all night. And let the professionals figure out who’d sent the obscene message.
And if her ex-husband was watching? If he knew she’d had a man spend the night?
He’d refuse to give her more clues...
Was she crossing a line...becoming irrational...allowing him to get too far into her head again?
No way Clint was going to win. To steal her from herself.
To fight off the possibility of him causing irrational thoughts in her mind, she focused again on what Brian had said.
About her week snooping around Lincoln.
The very real possibility of human traffickers.
And then, eyes wide, she looked over at Brian again. “If I ruffled feathers, that means that there’s something to find, right? Something someone needs to hide badly enough to warn me off?”
It also meant that her baby could have been sold.
To a wealthy family who could pay well but couldn’t adopt through normal channels?
The tightness around Brian’s lips was more pronounced than she’d seen it. “It could mean that, yes.”
“So we’re making progress.”
She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
“I’m staying here tonight.”
Jessica was determined. Independent. She wasn’t stupid.
With a nod, she went to get him a sheet, blanket and pillow, and pulled out the sleeper bed from her sofa.
Chapter 16
If someone in Lincoln was involved in Brooke’s disappearance—even, say, with the disposal of the body—they’d likely be familiar with Jessica’s name.
From Clint, maybe. Definitely from the stories that had been all over the news eighteen months before. And again during Clint’s trial.
She’d spread her name all over the damned village.
From there, finding her address was a no-brainer for anyone with enough smarts to do a simple people search.
Could be that Clint hadn’t meant to hurt his daughter. Maybe he really had just been meaning to scare Jessica, to wake her up to his way of thinking, to make her squirm so she’d see that she was wrong to have taken his boat away from him.
After a week and two days of studying the guy, observing him in action, Brian could see all of that. And maybe he’d hurt Brooke without meaning to do so.
If, say, the gun went off accidentally. Maybe he’d had it to protect himself in case someone came after him for the kidnapping. Had had it out and ready and the baby had scooted to it without him noticing.
She’d had the strength to throw a toy with enough force to leave a mark on a grown man.
Maybe Clint Johnson had dropped the child. Or left her alone on a bed without rails and she’d rolled off, hit her head.
And another strong possibility—he’d sold her.
Not a single one of the scenarios left a happy ending in the future, where Clint and Jessica magically repaired their relationship, found each other again, he got out of prison, and they got Brooke back.
Lying fully dressed on the three-inch mattress that did little to cushion his weight, Brian stared at the ceiling. His client had excused herself to bed as soon as she’d dropped his bedding on the pulled-out bed visible from the dining table.
The fact that no one but Brian knew that she’d vacated her master suite on the far end of the house, in favor of the small guest room next to her office, gave him some comfort.
Clint—if the warning came from him and he had the wherewithal to make someone do his dirty work while he was in prison—would expect her to be at the master suite end of the house.
If someone got by the cops out front and managed to get in the house, they’d have to pass Brian before they got to Jessica.
Of course, it was possible that whoever she might have tipped off in Lincoln had found a way to get a message to Clint in jail. Possible that both scenarios were true—Clint was behind the message and Jessica had tipped off traffickers or someone guilty of tampering with a corpse.
Adding to his mental list of to-dos at first light. He needed jail records to know who Clint had been communicating with.
And when. Something Jessica had asked Anderson for, but hadn’t received.
And he needed a list of all of the residences Jessica had visited in Lincoln.
After a call to Anderson, he’d make a quick trip to his apartment for a shower at first light, as soon as the crew arrived to check Jessica’s home for bugging devices. And be back before they left.
He’d send the list of Lincoln addresses she’d visited that week to Anderson and then he and Jessica would check out the first two blue barns—the ones between Fayetteville and Lincoln. And, by then, he should have answers from the detective who was eagerly coming back to full life on the case.
As much as the threat to Jessica angered—and scared—him, he knew, as she’d quickly deduced, that they could be getting much closer to her finding the answers she needed.
Maybe even by that night.
Or the end of the weekend.
And if that answer meant she lived the rest of her life without her daughter? Who would be there for her during the initial blast of blinding pain?
