by Jami Alden
People like Tommy, who had also been damaged in the aftermath.
She fielded the first few questions easily.
“Do you have any leads on Tricia’s location?” This from a grizzled, middle-age man who was scribbling his notes on an old-school steno pad.
“We have no new information, but we’ll be setting up a tip line soon for people to call with information,” Kate replied.
“What about speculation that Tricia is a runaway?” asked a petite brunette who looked like she was still in high school.
“Right now there’s nothing to indicate that Tricia left on her own. She was last seen heading in the direction of home on her bike, the ATM card her father gave her for emergencies hasn’t been used, and she hasn’t been seen at any of the area bus terminals or along the major roads.”
“At what point will the search shift its focus to looking for a body?”
This was from a slim blonde whose perfectly applied makeup didn’t do anything to hide the hard glint in her eyes. Kate knew her type well, the kind of reporter who gained notoriety by provoking her interview subjects into anger or an overly emotional response. “We of course hope it never comes to that. Right now we’re working on the premise that Tricia is alive, and we’re hoping that anyone who has any information about her whereabouts will come forward as soon as possible.”
Another reporter tried to get a question in, but the blonde’s sharp voice drowned him out. “What makes you think you’ll have any more success helping to get Tricia Fuller back than you did with Madeline Drexler?”
Kate braced herself against the pain spearing her chest at the mention of eleven-year-old Madeline, the memory of her small broken body covered by nothing but a pile of wet leaves. “I have to be optimistic with every case we get involved in,” she said, hoping the fact that the question had her crumpling inside wasn’t obvious on camera. “I couldn’t do this job otherwise.”
With Kate’s defenses already weakened, blondie decided to go in for the kill. “Of course, but you’ve had to overcome other tragedies where some would say you had some culpability. Starting with your own brother right here in Sandpoint.”
Kate felt like she was about to fly apart, like a glass crashing to the ground to shatter into a million shards. She wanted to lash out at the reporter, take her to task for taking the sucker punch. But she knew that while she had to tread carefully with the press on every case she worked on, this time it was particularly important.
Just the memory of her meeting the day before with Ron Weaver, the chairman of the board of St. Anthony’s, was enough to make her cheeks burn with shame.
After what happened with the Drexler case, we can’t afford to have even a hint of misconduct. Because of your carelessness, we’ve had major donors threaten to pull their funding. If you make even one misstep, Kate, it will be disaster for us and for you.
She didn’t let the camera pick up any of her turmoil as she forced her stiff lips to form a reply. “Of course I will never get over what happened to my brother and my own guilt for not keeping a closer eye on him that night. But I’m here now to focus on giving Tricia and her family the happy ending mine will never have.”
Chapter 3
For the last fourteen years, Tommy Ibarra was convinced that if he never laid eyes on Kate Beckett again, it would be too soon. Now, as he pulled his truck into the space next to hers and watched her climb out of her rented sedan, he was still reeling from that first moment he saw her when she walked into Jackson Fuller’s den.
It was like being punched in the face, addling his brain, making his head ring with the impact. Even though, unlike Kate, he had several hours to prepare himself to see her again, he still wasn’t ready for his first in the flesh encounter with her.
Probably never would be.
He didn’t know what it was about her—had never really known. With her blond hair tinged with the barest hint of red, her pale skin, and finely sculpted features, she was classically beautiful but hardly striking. And her body didn’t sport anything close to the outrageous curves that had caught his eye in the past.
But there was something about her, always had been, from the first time he’d met her, that hot, sunny July day when he was fifteen. He’d been mowing the lawn at one of the big mansions on the lake, drenched with sweat as the sun beat down on him. He’d cursed a blue streak when he went to the cooler in his truck only to realize he’d forgotten to restock it with cold drinks.
Then she’d appeared, a skinny little girl with big blue eyes and a wide smile that took up most of her face, pressing an icy cold soda into his hand and introducing herself. That moment had sparked an unlikely friendship where Tommy had taken the sheltered senator’s daughter under his wing like a surrogate kid sister.
Until the summer she turned sixteen, and new feelings cropped up that were anything but brotherly.
As he climbed out of his truck, he let his gaze rake over her as she waited for him on the sidewalk. In her close-fitting jeans and sleeveless white button-front shirt, she was nearly as slim as she’d been when she was sixteen. Her hair in its ponytail was a little darker. But damned if she didn’t still have that smattering of freckles across her nose and that keen intelligence in her clear blue eyes that had inexplicably fascinated him from the first moment they’d met his.
And still, always, there was that composure, that aura of untouchability that compelled him to reach out, to touch, to see if he could break through the wall of reserve she wore like an invisible cloak.
Today that reserve was mixed with a heavy dose of discomfort, her body practically vibrating with tension as he joined her on the sidewalk. “Where to first?” she asked in a too-chipper voice that grated on his nerves.
“You said we needed a volunteer headquarters. Tim Greaves manages several of the properties downtown, and I know he has some vacant storefronts,” he said, starting down the sidewalk in the direction of the Realtor’s office. “I called him on the way, he’s expecting us.”
Kate nodded and fell in step with him, her legs moving double time to keep up with his long-legged strides. In spite of himself, he snuck looks down at her, for some reason fascinated by the brisk swing of her pale, bare arms, the subtle flex of her leg muscles under her jeans.
The hot sun beat down on them, and as her skin heated he caught the scent of her shampoo.
A jolt of heat hit low in his belly as he was immediately transported back fourteen years, that same mix of floral and fruit saturating his senses as they lay on a blanket on the beach, arms and legs in a tangle, heartbeats and breath coming hard and fast as they kissed and caressed while his body demanded so much more.
He wondered if she still tasted the same…
He shook the memories off, shoved them back in the mental vault where they belonged. What the fuck was wrong with him? The last time he’d tangled with Kate Beckett, his entire world had been turned upside down.
“How’s your father?” Tommy asked to reinforce his point.
Her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly as she walked. “He’s well. Gearing up for another election year—”
“Be sure to tell him he can’t count on my vote,” he muttered.
Her pace faltered. “Tommy,” she said. He paused. She reached out with one pale, slim hand as though to touch him, then pulled back before she made contact. She swallowed hard, and as Tommy watched her throat work, he tried not to remember the shuddering, sighing sound she used to make as he flicked his tongue down the pale, slender length.
She cleared her throat and he jerked his eyes back up to her face. Her full pink mouth was pulled down at the corners, and there was a storm brewing in her wide, pale blue eyes. “I know this is fourteen years overdue, but I owe you an apology for what happened after Michael—”
The mention of Kate’s little brother brought a stab of guilt and sadness so fresh it was like it was happening now. And along with it, all the anger, resentment, and helplessness he’d felt at having his entire world
go ass up because he was too dumb to stay away from Kate Beckett. He’d done what he could to make the best of a bad situation, but there was no denying that the senator’s revenge had changed the course of his life, changed him in ways he never would have seen coming. And he had no interest in dredging up the rage, the humiliation, and the gut-wrenching pain of Kate’s rejection and ultimate betrayal.
“This is Tim’s office,” Tommy said, cutting her off as he indicated the glass door that read “Greaves Property Management LLC” and reached past her to push it open.
This time she did touch him, putting her hand on his chest to stay him. It sent a pulse of heat straight to his groin, making him go heavy and thick as he imagined her hand elsewhere. “Please, you have to know that I hated what my father did, and I felt—feel—terrible about how much trouble he caused for you and your family. I should have done something.”
Tommy looked meaningfully down at her hand, then back at her face to pin her with a hard stare. Hot color flooded her cheeks as she snatched her hand away and took a couple awkward steps back. “Like you said, Kate, it was fourteen years ago. Water under the bridge. And I landed on my feet eventually.” He should have left it at that. But a little demon inside urged him to go in for just one dig. “Really, the only person to blame is myself. I should have known better than to mess with a sixteen-year-old virgin who wasn’t worth the trouble.”
Her only reaction was a tightening of her lips, a flush of hot color to her cheeks. Nevertheless, Tommy felt mean and small. Swearing under his breath, he pulled the door to Tim’s office open and ushered Kate inside.
Within an hour Tim had them set up in an empty storefront on First Street, nestled between Ike’s and Mary’s Cafe. Tommy hooked Kate up with the print shop down the block to produce thousands of flyers with Tricia’s information, then left to gather special communication equipment from his house and swing by the rec center to retrieve the folding chairs and tables they would need for the volunteers who would man the phones.
By the time Tommy returned two hours later, the crew from the phone company was already on-site installing several phone lines. No small feat considering it often took days, sometimes even a week to get a phone line installed around here.
But Kate’s arrival had immediately raised the profile of the case, and the guys at the phone company knew they’d get nothing but bad press by dawdling.
Jackson Fuller showed up and helped Tommy unload the tables and chairs from his truck bed. “You should be home,” Tommy said.
He responded with a curt shake of his head. “I can’t just sit at home and do nothing but stare at the front door, hoping Tricia will walk through it.”
Tommy balanced one side of the table and backed his way in the door while Jackson took the other. “What about Brooke? Shouldn’t someone be home with her?” he asked.
Jackson grimaced and helped Tommy unfold the legs and set the table upright. “She won’t come out of her room. Tracy says she hasn’t touched her food. She blames herself.”
“Do you blame her?” Though Kate’s voice was pitched low, it cut like cold steel through the din of men working and metal chairs sliding around.
Tommy turned to face Kate, and he wondered if Jackson could sense the tension in every fiber of her body.
“No,” he said tiredly as he ran a hand through his hair. It was already sticking up all over his head, as though he’d run his hands through it dozens of times already. “Of course, I wish she’d been more considerate of her sister and not told her to leave the party alone. It’s not her job to protect her. It’s mine, one I failed when I didn’t stop her from sneaking out because I was too fucked up to hear her.”
Kate crossed to him and put a consoling hand on his arm, her expression measurably more relaxed at Jackson’s reply. “It’s not your fault either,” she said. “If someone is determined to take a child, they’ll find a way. You can’t let guilt drain you when you need all of your energy focused on finding her.”
He didn’t look convinced. He scanned the room, his gaze catching on the tables where the phone boys were busy connecting half a dozen or so phones.
His brow furrowed. “That’s a lot of phones.”
“I expect to field a hundred or so calls within the first hour after we announce the hotline number,” Kate said briskly as she placed the metal folding chairs around the tables. “Especially once we announce a reward for information.”
“Reward?” Jackson said.
Kate stopped her flurry of activity. “Did we not discuss the reward? I’m sorry, I thought we went over that—”
He shook his head. “It’s highly possible we did. Everything’s been a blur. How much do you think we’ll need?”
Kate’s gaze flicked uncomfortably to Tommy’s. Finding nothing there to calm her, she swallowed hard and looked back at Jackson. “It fully depends on your resources. I’m not sure I’m comfortable giving you a price outright—”
“Give him a ballpark, Kate,” Tommy snapped.
“If they’re able, families usually offer at least twenty thousand.”
Jackson swore. “Normally that wouldn’t be an issue, but between Suzanne’s treatments and start-up costs for the business, I’ve eaten through our cash buffer. The money is there, but it could take awhile to—”
“I’m happy to offer up whatever you need,” a masculine voice boomed from the doorway. Though Tommy hadn’t heard the voice in years, a reptilian part of his brain recognized it and was immediately repulsed. The muscles in his shoulders immediately bunched.
“John,” he said before he’d even turned around.
“Tommy Ibarra,” John said. “I’m surprised you recognized me, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”
I never forget a douchebag. Like it or not, Burkhart’s voice was forever etched in his memory banks.
Tommy remained silent as John offered his hand to Jackson, who, despite the animosity Tommy didn’t bother to hide, shook his hand and introduced himself.
“And Kate,” John said, a big grin spreading across his face as he opened his arms wide.
It took all of Tommy’s restraint not to insert himself between them as Kate stepped readily into his embrace. A sour feeling twisted his gut as he compared her warm hug for John with his own reception.
It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself harshly. Besides, what else did you expect from Kate? Under what circumstances would she possibly have been happy to see him, after what they’d been through?
And the feeling, he reminded himself, was absolutely mutual.
Still, as Burkhart released her, it was all Tommy could do not to plant his fist right in the middle of his smug face.
“I was at Tim Greaves’s office going over some paperwork for a property rental and he mentioned he’d set you up here to coordinate the volunteer effort. I thought I’d come by and see what I can do to help.”
“I was wondering if you’d be in town,” Kate said, sounding way too delighted for Tommy’s taste. “I didn’t get a chance to email you before I flew out.”
“And it’s not as though you were coming out here to catch up with old friends,” Tommy bit out, irrationally angered by the fact that Kate and Burkhart had apparently kept in touch all these years while he himself had been left to dangle, waiting for a response that never came.
“You said you wanted to help,” Tommy said, angling his chin at him. “If you two are finished with your little reunion, Jackson here has a missing fourteen-year-old he’d like to find.”
Kate’s blue eyes narrowed into a glare. “I know exactly why I’m here.”
“And I’m here because I want to help, and from what I heard when I was walking in here, the first way I can do that is by putting up cash for the reward,” John said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Tommy started. While Jackson would have trouble getting access to a sizable sum of cash any time soon, Tommy had done well enough for himself that he could put up a decent chunk without it hurting t
oo much. “I can—”
“How about a hundred thousand?” Burkhart offered as though Tommy hadn’t spoken.
Kate’s eyebrows arched up to her hairline. “A hundred?”
“Not enough?” he asked. “Make it two hundred thousand.”
Tommy hid a wince. A hundred he could have managed. Two would involve more effort and time to liquidate than they had.
Jackson shook his head. “That’s very generous, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
Burkhart held up a silencing hand. “You didn’t ask, I’m offering.”
Jackson scrutinized him with the same steely gaze that had made dozens of enemies of the United States squirm. For a moment the hard-as-nails operative Tommy had known broke through the mantle of the father overcome with grief and worry as he tried to discern the other man’s motives.
Apparently Jackson decided they were sound because he nodded his head once and held his hand. “I’m in your debt and will do whatever I can to pay it back once my little girl is home safe.”
Burkhart shook his head and schooled his face into a mask of humility that Tommy didn’t buy for a second. “You don’t need to pay me back. Cases like this, a young girl missing in our community…” He turned his gaze to Kate. “I remember what it was like when Kate’s family lost Michael, how it tore their family apart. If I can do anything to keep another family from going through that…”
Tommy looked at Kate, felt a stab of disgust when he saw that Kate was eating up his line with the gusto of a largemouth bass gulping a fat, juicy worm.
Then the disgust turned toward himself when he saw the tears in Kate’s eyes, the way her expression seemed suddenly haunted. Help was help, and if Burkhart’s money could help get Tricia back safely, Tommy would kiss the douchebag’s ass himself.
“This is great news,” Kate said, struggling to compose herself. “We’ll announce it to the press as soon as the tip line is up and running.”
The sound of a phone ringing pierced the air. Burkhart pulled his cell out of his pocket and offered a sheepish apology. “I have to take this,” he said, already headed for the door. “I’ll check back in later.”
