Dangerous Reunion Page 4

  “I didn’t see the note.”

  The air-conditioning kicked on, and Yashi automatically reached for the lap quilt folded over the back of her chair. It had been a gift from Lolly, a Victorian crazy quilt pieced in velvet and brocade, and it warmed her soul as well as her body. “Maybe the crime scene unit had already collected it.”

  He shook his head, his black hair gleaming in the light from the nearest overhead. “I was the first one in the house. The first one in her room. There wasn’t any note.”

  “Maybe Lolly found it.” Right away, though, she shook her head. “No, she would have called Brit immediately with steam coming out her ears. Will, too. I saw the phone. She didn’t have any calls last night after Jared texted to say he was waiting down the road.”

  Brit returned from the bathroom, her hair held away from her face with a band. Her skin was sallow, and she wore a cloak of fear and uncertainty that left her grimly subdued. “I left a note. I put it on my pillow.” Instead of settling on the window seat, she nudged and slid her way into the armchair with Yashi. “Then I climbed out the window and down to the back porch roof and onto the railing and then the porch. I had a flashlight, and I cut through the woods and met Jared up the hill at the driveway where the old house burned down.”

  Stroking Brit’s blond hair, Yashi privately agreed with Ben. She hadn’t known Brit had it in her—sneaking out, walking through the woods alone at night. Forget young love; this must have been raging hormones.

  What did it mean that the note was missing? It could have blown off the bed and onto the floor. The techs could have bagged it without mentioning it to Ben.

  Or the kidnapper could have taken it. Wanting something she had touched, handled, put on the pillow where she laid her head.

  A shudder rocketed through Yashi, then passed into Brit. The girl drew her feet onto the cushion, huddling as small as she could, and tugged the quilt over to cover her, too. Her expression was resolute, but it was all bravado. Bless her heart, she wanted to be brave and strong and help find her parents, but she was a scared little girl. “I’m ready, Officer. You can ask.” Beneath the quilt, she clasped Yashi’s hand tightly.

  Regret tightened Ben’s mouth, but it passed quickly, his face moving into impassivity. He was strong and steady. He would get Brit through this, because that was what he did. He fixed things for other people. He made things all right again.

  Yashi wished she knew how to make things right. The only time she’d ever had that kind of confidence had been in the DA’s office. She’d been a warrior in the fight for justice...until she’d learned she was as fallible there as every other part of her life.

  “Have you noticed anything unusual lately?”

  Brit chewed the tip of one nail while thinking. “Marliss Matlock complimented me the other day. She’s super smart. She doesn’t do compliments.” Then her forehead wrinkled. “I know that’s not the kind of thing you mean, but it’s summer. I don’t see that many people. Theo and I have been going to soccer, and we go to church, and we help Mom with the garden and the yard and stuff. No one’s doing anything weird. The only people I talk to online are people I know, and I haven’t argued with anyone in ages, not even Theo. The most exciting thing happening is school starting in a couple weeks.”

  Her voice broke with the last words, and she swiped her free hand across her face. “I haven’t seen any strange guys, either. I’ve never seen anyone watching me like they shouldn’t. Grown-ups don’t pay any more attention to me than my friends, and guys my age... This can’t be a guy my age, can it? What kid could make my mom and dad do anything? My dad would pound ’em. My mom would pound ’em. They would never let anyone near Theo or me.”

  Ben didn’t explain what Yashi already knew: the kidnapper had to get physical control of only one family member. Yes, Lolly and Will would both go crazy-vicious on anyone who threatened their son...but not if the man already had a knife at Theo’s throat. Ditto, if he grabbed Lolly first, Will and Theo would cooperate to stop him from hurting her.

  Had he expected to take Brit without any interference from her family? Had he sneaked in the way she’d left, only to find her bed empty and the note saying she’d gone off with her boyfriend? Had the man’s anger, jealousy and frustration been so strong that instead of leaving to try another time, he’d taken it out on the others?

  Ben’s steady voice broke through her thoughts. “What about your neighbors?”

  “Neighbors?” Brit hiccuped the word. “You’re our only neighbor.”

  “The people who live down the road,” Yashi explained. “The ones on the other side of the railroad tracks. Anyone out there. Do you see them out walking or working in their yards? Ever played with their kids or gone to their houses for dinner or seen them in town?”

  Brit shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know them. I could see them right here and not know who they are. Except for that one Dad calls the crazy old coot. Mom says he’s a bad son. They told me and Theo to stay out of his way because he’s always ticked off about something.”

  Yashi’s heart pounded a little harder, making even breaths tougher to come by. Crazy old coot didn’t necessarily equal stalker/sex offender/kidnapper, but it could. She looked at Ben, and when he finished with his notes, he met her gaze briefly before looking away.

  “Is that enough?” Brit asked, her voice small and drawn. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  Ben’s voice softened. “Yeah, Brit, that’s good for now.”

  She gave Yashi a hug, pulled the quilt away from her and wrapped it around her shoulders before hugging Ben, then climbing the stairs to the loft. A moment later, a soft whoosh came from the mattress, followed by a whimper. “Oh Bobcat, what if they don’t come back?”

  Yashi felt the cry, and its accompanying tears, deep in her heart. What if they didn’t come back? What if she and Brit had lost them forever?

  * * *

  Judging by the snores Ben heard from overhead, Brit was asleep by the time Yashi came downstairs from comforting her. She looked as drained as Brit and even more apprehensive. Of course, it was an entirely new situation to Brit, while Yashi had experienced loss up close before. Mother, father, aunt and uncle, all because some idiot had tried to drive and make a phone call at the same time.

  “Who is the crazy old coot?”

  “Kenneth Brown. A few alcohol-related arrests, a lot of domestics that don’t result in anything.”

  Her nod indicated she remembered the man. “The family that brawls together...” She’d pulled on a sweatshirt while she was upstairs, and now she fiddled with the too-long cuffs. “If you want to come back in a few hours, give her some time to rest—”

  “I’m staying until Sam gets a place for her.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t protest that Brit should stay with her. He didn’t have to argue the idea with her. Yashi the cousin didn’t want to let Brit get farther away than the bed upstairs, but Yashi the lawyer knew protection was the uppermost concern.

  Finished with folding the cuffs, she smoothed the sweatshirt over her hips, and he saw the faint lump of a weapon on the right side of her waistband. As an assistant DA, she’d been the object of some threats, mostly flashes of temper when guilty verdicts were read, so Ben had taught her to shoot, and she’d gotten a concealed-carry permit. She was in the job to help victims. Not become one.

  She looked around the room, at a loss for anything to say or do. “I, uh... You want something to drink? I have water, milk, lemonade and a coffeepot you can throw some mud in.”

  “No Coke?”

  “I gave it up. Too many calories and no room to expand.”

  He looked her over, his gaze going all the way down to those bare feet, then up again. With her long legs and lush curves, she couldn’t live comfortably at her “ideal” weight, but he was willing to bet she’d never met a man who cared. She looked as good in her clothes a
s out of them. Almost, old memories whispered.

  She went to the kitchen, a distance of maybe ten feet, and opened the refrigerator. Besides the armchairs, it was the only full-size thing he’d seen in the house. Hidden behind its open door, she said, “How about lunch? I’ve got sandwiches, leftover pizza and a bowl of pasta salad.”

  “Pizza.” She liked it the way he did: thin crust, extra cheese and vegetables, and served cold. The meat was insignificant.

  He stood up, noticing again the proximity of the walls. Confined areas didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t imagine living in this tiny space. From what little he’d seen of the loft, he wouldn’t even be able to stand up in there. Not that he would ever be there. His time in her bedroom, though always amazing, was long past.

  “Bring back old memories?” she asked as she handed him a plate, then set the pizza box on the counter.

  He stilled in the act of removing a slice. How could she possibly know he’d been thinking about them, together, sex? He had the best blank face in the business. Even when he was a kid, no one had ever been able to guess what he was thinking, and it had only gotten better with age.

  “Your great-grandfather’s travel trailer? In Great-Aunt Weezer’s backyard?”

  Heat warmed his face, and he took another slice of pizza to hide it. Of course she was referring to the first place he’d called his own. It had been even smaller than her dollhouse, though when he’d done away with the living/dining room and kitchen, he’d been left with a reasonably sized bedroom and bathroom. Provided he didn’t mind barely fitting into the shower.

  Best of all, it hadn’t been his mom’s house, shared with her, three sisters, two brothers, various dogs, hamsters and friends.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled in agreement, tearing a couple of paper towels from the roll and balancing his plate with the glass of lemonade she offered. One look at the dining table—barely big enough for two and currently collapsed against the wall to provide some space for moving about—and he returned to the chair in the living room. “Why didn’t you just fix up the back of your office?”

  She padded in, carrying a bowl filled with pasta salad and a glass of water. “A lawyer starting out solo doesn’t pay a lot of bills. If things get bad, I could lose the property but not the house. I’d just hitch it up to a truck and go someplace else.”

  His brain had noted the skirt around the house without really registering it. Of course it hid wheels. She wouldn’t even have to pack. Just batten everything down and go. If her practice improved to the point where she wanted and could afford a regular house, she could sell this one or buy an acre of land near one of the nearby lakes and have a weekend getaway.

  “Will and the kids and I did what we could, with lots of help from the internet,” she said as she reclaimed her seat. “I traded services for everything else. It’s not for everyone, but it suits Bobcat and me.”

  It did, Ben had to agree. Soft colors, clean lines, no fussiness. It was definitely much nicer, inside and out, than his old travel trailer. Sturdier, too. Walking through his trailer had been like crossing the deck of a pitching boat, and when the high winds came—as much a part of Oklahoma as the blue sky—he’d half expected to be rudely awakened while tumbling through the air.

  Silence stretched out while they both got down to the business of eating. Not companionable—there was too much awareness between them for that—but tolerable. Like eating next to a stranger in a restaurant.

  If he’d slept with the stranger. Gotten his heart broken by her. Hoped to never see her again.

  Her spoon clinked against the bowl when she set them aside. She huddled in the chair, arms around her legs. Her shirtsleeves had come unrolled and fell down to hide her hands where they were clasped. “Is it true...” Her gaze shifted to the loft, then back to him. “Is it true that the chances of survival drop with each passing day?”

  He swallowed the last bite of pizza and wiped his hands before setting his plate on the window seat. “I’ve never worked a kidnapping, so I don’t know the latest statistics, but...yeah, that seems to be the case. But this isn’t a typical kidnapping. You don’t kidnap an entire family for access to one of their kids. If he went there to take Brit, why didn’t he just leave and try again?” Presumably, he would have been equipped for one victim, not four. One against one was relatively simple. One against four, not so much.

  “Maybe they caught him. Maybe he made a noise or Lolly went upstairs to change for bed or he knocked something over.”

  “Maybe. Maybe he was angry that Brit was with another guy and took it out on them. Maybe he really thinks he can trade them for her. Or maybe he’s just freaking crazy and there’s no logic to his actions.”

  Ben and Yashi had agreed on most things back in the day, among them that last line. There was no logic to be found in illogic, no sanity in insanity. This person, this secretive friend or relative stranger admiring Brit from afar, was clearly operating in a different reality from the rest of them.

  As a rule of thumb, Ben hated different realities. Most of his cases were pretty straightforward; the why of a crime was usually revealed early on. Anger, greed, jealousy, revenge, love, power—those were the big motives. But throw mental illness into the mix, and up became down, rationale became fantasy. Sadly, he’d dealt with enough psychopaths in one year to last his whole life.

  Yashi was about to speak when his cell signaled a call. Instead, she gathered their dishes and took them to the kitchen. A gesture that hinted at privacy, but not given the distance here. It didn’t matter. He kept his responses to Sam’s conversation brief before hanging up less than two minutes later.

  She watched him from the kitchen, eyes wide. It would be like that in the upcoming days, he knew: every phone call a jump start to the fear and panic and dread. A knock on the door a reason for the heart to beat double time. Even the sound of a car door outside would startle her and make her hands shake.

  “JJ and Quint are on their way to pick up Brit. For her own safety, you can’t know where she’s staying.” Her head bobbed automatically, but he doubted she was processing his words that quickly. “Sam asked if you know the house well enough to tell if anything’s missing. If you could walk through it with us.”

  She began another automatic nod but stopped, and the color drained from her face. She’d looked that pale on his porch, when he’d told her about the blood in the living room, just before her legs had given out and she’d plopped onto her butt. A part of him wanted to tell her they would skip the living room; she didn’t have to look at her family’s blood.

  A part of him always wanted to make things easier on the victims’ family, but nothing about victimization and violence was ever easy.

  She gulped, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Of course,” she said in a calm, steady voice. She sounded like the cool, never-fazed prosecutor she’d been for so long, but all the professionalism in the world couldn’t hide the panic in her blue eyes.

  And all the self-righteous resentment in the world couldn’t stop him feeling bad for her, way deep inside.

  * * *

  Detective JJ Logan was originally from South Carolina and radiated confidence and assurance that wrapped around Yashi and made her feel safer just being in the room with her. Quint Foster, formerly the assistant chief of police before grieving his fiancée’s death had sent him plummeting to rock bottom, seemed to feel better with JJ around, too. It was nothing overt; they didn’t touch, didn’t stand too close, but even the slightest glance her way softened his face and warmed his eyes.

  It sharpened Yashi’s awareness of how alone she was. How wistful.

  Brit came down the stairs, sniffling and holding Bobcat tightly to her chest. Judging by his face, the cat was longing to be out of reach of every human in the place, but he let Brit hang on. His one compassionate-cat act of the week.

  “I want to stay with you, Yashi,�
�� Brit whimpered for the fifth time. “You’re all I’ve got left. Please don’t let them take me away!”

  Yashi wrapped her arms around her, and Bobcat wisely seized his moment to leap away, landing on a ledge on the nearest wall. She held Brit tightly, repeating reassurances. “It’s for your own safety, sweetie. We don’t know what this person will try next, but we have to make sure he can’t get to you. It’ll be all right. I’ll call you. I’ll visit you.” She’d gotten that confirmed by JJ while Brit was still upstairs.

  “But I want to stay here! You have a gun. You can protect me.”

  She smoothed Brit’s hair from her face and looked intently into her eyes. “But I’m not going to be here all the time. I’m going to help find your mom and dad and Theo.” She caught a flinch shuddering through Ben in her peripheral vision, but she brushed it off. He knew her too well to expect her to stand back and do nothing.

  “I’ll be all alone.” Brit’s words came out weak, half sob, half plea.

  “Only for a little while. And only for your own safety.” She hugged her tightly again, whispering, “I love you, sweet pea. Do this for us. All of us. Please.”

  Shudders rocketed through Brit’s body, but after a moment, her grip on Yashi loosened. She swiped her hand across her face, stood taller, accepted the tissues Ben offered with a polite thank-you and nodded. “You don’t have to worry about me, too. Just find my mama and daddy.”

  Yashi forced a smile. “And Theo.”

  “Um...well, if you have to.” Brit’s one moment of lightness disappeared. She wriggled free of Yashi, pushed past Ben with a squeeze of his arm, then walked out the door without a look back. Somberly, JJ and Quint followed. A moment later, three car doors sounded, quiet thuds in the muggy afternoon, and Yashi felt her own shudders.

  This day had started out with such promise: rain, a contented Bobcat, nothing more pressing than eating on their schedule. Then it had become one ugly thing after another, and the next one was up on her list.