Having done all he could for now, he finished taking the information off the disk he’d been working on earlier. The next set of names and dates came up on the screen: Bucek, Buric, Dozbaba, Molan.
Buric.
Vojtech Buric, born 1871. Married Anna Molan, 1896, in Kutna Hora. Children: Katrina, born 1898, Jan, born 1900, Oujezdec.
Quickly Jake put the information in Ms. McFarland’s file, then finished transcribing the disk.
On his way out of the office, he waved to Arnie who was still on the phone. Everyone else had gone home, and no wonder. It was ten after six.
Jake locked the front door behind him with every intention of heading straight for his apartment. But some inner force compelled him to walk to the corner. He found his legs striding up South Temple toward the McFarland Plaza he’d passed many times since coming to Salt Lake.
The knowledge of Kathryn’s abduction increased his anxiety over Kamila’s disappearance. Both weighed heavily on his mind. He hardly noticed the intense heat rising from the pavement.
In the plaza courtyard, he paused to study the sculpture of a mother with a baby in her arms. He’d stopped once before to admire the moving work of art. But since Ms. McFarland’s visit to the office, it held brand-new significance for him. The plaque read Blessed Are The Children.
His throat swelled.
People were coming and going from the complex as he approached the main doors. Once inside the lobby, he couldn’t miss a whole room to the left, open wide to the public. Running above the opening from one end to the other were giant screens, the kind at airports.
But instead of arrival and departure times, these flashed the names of kidnapped children with the time and date of their abduction. While he and several others stood there reading them, new names kept popping up at the top.
Those names meant some family’s agony was just beginning. The sight of them was gut-wrenching. He heard the woman behind him groan.
Suddenly a voice sounded over a loudspeaker. “Welcome to the Kathryn McFarland Foundation. Take the time to come in and learn how to help us fight crime so the next kidnapping won’t be your child.”
There was a wide-screen television in the middle of the entry flashing pictures of the children named on the screens above. Like everyone else who passed, Jake stood there mesmerized and appalled.
So many children missing…
Obviously there were other businesses on the ground floor of the plaza, but Jake noticed that most people took the time to go inside the foundation room. He was no exception.
It was like being in a library, but all the information had to do with educating the public about abductions. Volunteers manned the various displays to answer questions.
One station dealt with ways to fight Internet crime. The statistics on the amount of teens who disappeared after an Internet encounter were staggering.
Another area explained that most kidnappings were done by someone the child knew. Literature and videos were available to instruct the whole family.
In one corner, a display had been set up to show how to proof your home against break-ins and violent abductions from total strangers. Jake watched the video that showed the wrong and right way to secure windows and doors.
He picked up one of the pamphlets put out by the local police department. The McFarlands hadn’t left a stone unturned.
According to the brochure Ms. McFarland had given him, the foundation had assisted in over 17,000 recoveries. Thousands and thousands of grateful parents were indebted to the remarkable McFarland family for their tireless effort and generosity. Yet they still hadn’t been able to find their own child.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake glimpsed a volunteer seated at a desk behind the counter. Without conscious thought, he approached her.
“Good evening,” she said. “We’re glad you took the time to come in. Is there something special I can do for you?”
“I hope so. I’d like to volunteer my services.”
She flashed him a bright smile. “That’s wonderful. We always need help. Here.” She handed him a clipboard with an application and a pen.
“Go ahead and fill it out. The people who run the foundation meet on Saturdays and they’ll review your application.”
Saturday…that was the day after tomorrow.
“If everything’s in order, you’ll receive a phone call asking you to come in and meet with them for an interview.”
The McFarlands ran a tight ship. Everything he learned about them increased his admiration. The fact that he might have to wait until next week for an answer was his problem, not theirs.
He filled in all the blanks, putting in Wendell’s name for a reference. In case Ms. McFarland felt inclined to contact him personally, he wrote down his work and cell-phone number.
Obviously they needed people who could go out on searches, people who would help feed volunteers who assembled to help find an abductee.
He checked all the boxes. Under preferences, Jake indicated he would like to answer the hotline several times a week during the dead hours of the night. Why not? On Saturdays he was available to work on the foundation floor in any capacity they wanted.
“Here you go.”
The woman glanced at his application, then lifted her eyes to him. “On behalf of the McFarland family, I want to thank you very much for your willingness to help, Mr. Halsey.”
He nodded. “How long have you worked here?”
“Six months. My neighbor’s little boy was kidnapped. But thanks to the AMBER Alert, the kidnapper was caught on the freeway. Billy was returned to his parents. It’s all because of Senator McFarland’s insistence in getting that bill passed. I figure I need to do my part.”
Jake thought of his stepmother. Only God knew what had happened to her, but one thing was certain. There was no foundation with volunteers out looking for her. No AMBER Alert. Until he could find a way to get over to Prague undetected, he would have to live with this feeling of helplessness.
“I feel the same way. Thank you for your time.”
As he turned away from the counter and passed one of the displays, his attention was diverted by the tall beauty in pale blue who swept past the television screen at the entrance in a great hurry. He’d know those long, gorgeous legs anywhere.
With his eyes riveted, he followed her progress to the volunteer counter, which she slipped behind. Jake was in no hurry to leave. He observed the two women chatting for a few minutes. Then the one who’d taken his application left the room. Apparently her shift was over.
He glanced at his watch. Ten after seven. Jake had a hunch Ms. McFarland was late. A smile broke the corner of his mouth. It was nice to know she had a foible or two.
CHAPTER THREE
MAGGIE WHIPPED OUT her cell phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Darling—why aren’t you here? We’ve put off dinner waiting for you!”
“I’m sorry. Cheryl’s husband had a business dinner he wanted her to attend with him. No one else could cover for her at the last minute. You and Dad go ahead without me. I have to stay at the foundation and close up.”
“Not again. This isn’t right, darling. You haven’t even had time to eat.”
Maggie closed her eyes for a moment. “Mom—I haven’t had to fill in for anyone in a long time. It’s all right. I grabbed a bite in the cafeteria after I left my office.”
The quiet on the other end spoke volumes. “We’ll expect you for dinner tomorrow night.”
“I can’t. Steve’s flying up from California for a few days. After I pick him up at the airport we’re going straight to my office. Maybe on Sunday we can all get together.”
“He can do that when he comes for Cord’s wedding reception on the seventeenth.”
“Steven will be too busy with the reception then. Right now’s a good time to look into the law-school program here.”
“He’s too young for you, darling.”
“Not necessarily, but just so you know, we’re not intere
sted in each other that way. Listen Mom, someone’s at the desk. I’ve got to go.”
“You always have to go.”
“Talk to you later. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Maggie clicked off, but the greeting died in her throat when she discovered who was standing on the other side of the counter.
It was absurd, of course, but when she’d been introduced to him this morning, she’d had the impression he could be quite formidable.
That impression was still with her and growing stronger by the second. Seeing him up close, she picked out the faint scar over one eyelid, the little pucker at the left side of his mouth that hinted of rough play.
Jake Halsey was tall like her brothers, but much more hard-muscled and fit. With those solid features and firm jaw, she found him too rugged to be considered handsome. But he had an indefinable quality that transcended the physical; something that made him stand out from the many attractive men she’d known, setting him apart.
Startling black hair and lashes brought out the deep blue of his eyes. They were studying her so intently, she felt exposed…vulnerable. In fact she was helpless to ward off the curl of warmth that swept up through her body to her face.
Though he was dressed in a civilized sport shirt and chinos, he reminded her of a military man. He didn’t fit her idea of what a genealogist should look like, an older man like the owner of the Eagle Gate firm. Not this…this…
“I read the brochure you left, and decided to volunteer,” he said in his low, masculine voice, breaking the mysterious tension between them.
No, not mysterious. Maggie knew exactly what she sensed. It was called chemistry. She’d experienced various degrees of it before, mostly in high school, a time of life when hormones raged and emotions ran high.
Jake Halsey was no teenager. He was a full-blooded male in his midthirties. Her instincts told her he was a man who’d probably seen and done things she didn’t want to know about. Because she was in the legal profession, she’d learned how to size up a client, though in this case she’d gone to him for help. Everything about him shouted caution, dependability and determination.
“We always need volunteers, Mr. Halsey. I’ll give you an application to fill out.”
“I’ve already turned it in.”
Maggie’s gaze slid to the box designated for collected applications. She reached for the paper on top of the pile, hoping her curiosity about him wasn’t blatantly obvious. Who was she kidding?
He lived near the Capitol. She recognized the address. “How do you like living in the old Jordan mansion?”
She felt his scrutiny. “How do you know about that?”
“I serve on the historic register committee. We helped save that one. Thomas Jordan was a railroad magnate. One of your neighbors is the architect who converted the rooms into apartments.”
“He did a good job. I like mine.”
“After working in that cubbyhole all day, I would imagine the spaciousness and high ceilings have great appeal.”
“You imagine right.”
Something was wrong here. She was the one doing all the talking. It was totally unlike her.
“According to the application, you moved to Salt Lake five weeks ago. Before the foundation committee can make a decision, we need to know if your move is permanent.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll be leaving in January. Does that disqualify me?”
Maggie shouldn’t have been disappointed by his direct answer. What on earth was wrong with her?
“Of course not. But some jobs take more training than others. The hotline for instance.”
He shifted his weight. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to invest the time training someone who’s temporary.”
Now she felt terrible. “It’s the lifeline of the foundation. We’ve been lucky enough to find psychologists who know how to talk to frantic parents.”
He cocked his head. “Well, you already know I’m no psychologist. I can see by this impressive place that the McFarland family knows firsthand the best methods to help people who are going through this agony. It only makes sense you’d want the most qualified people available. I have nothing but respect for you.”
She felt his sincerity clear through to her bones. “My parents have done what any family would do if they had the means.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” His reply held a note of conviction.
Clearing her throat she said, “I wish there were a floor job available, but I’m afraid they’re filled for the time being. We have other needs though.”
“What’s the most important one?”
“People who can go out on a search at a moment’s notice.”
“Then I’m your man.”
Her pulse quickened. “What about your job at the genealogy firm?”
“It’s like housework.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can do it at any time because it’s always there waiting for you.”
Maggie smiled. “You mean you and your wife don’t share equally in the duties?” She didn’t see a ring, but she still wanted a definitive answer to that crucial question before any more time passed.
“At one time we did, but after she was killed in an accident, I’ve had to bungle along.”
He’d been married. She’d wanted to know.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Is that why you moved here from San Diego?”
“No. She died nine years ago. I came to Salt Lake for medical treatment.”
Every revelation he made about himself surprised her. “Are you ill?”
“I was injured on the job and had to get a shoulder replacement.”
Before she could stop herself, Maggie looked to his broad shoulders. His amazing physique gave no hint of what he’d been through.
“I take it you weren’t doing genealogy.”
His sudden smile rocked her world. “I’m a detective who walked into a trap I had no way of avoiding.” She knew it! The man lived dangerously. “After the accident, I woke up in the hospital. They sent me here for special therapy.”
“North Avenues Hospital?”
He nodded, drawing her attention to his short-cropped black hair. If it were longer, she had an idea it would curl.
When she could gather her wits she said, “It has one of the best orthopedic departments in the country.”
“Let’s pray that’s true. They won’t let me back on the force unless I’m a hundred percent.”
She needed to stop staring at him. “So what is a detective doing in a genealogy firm?”
“I needed a desk job that would challenge my brain. Since I grew up in a Czech household, and the department calls me in to translate when they need to interrogate a Czech-speaking suspect, it seemed a logical choice.”
“Then you’re not a real genealogist,” she murmured mostly to herself, but he heard her.
“No, but don’t let that worry you.”
“Did I say it did?”
“You didn’t have to. The disappointment is emblazoned on your face. If it’s any consolation, I’ve discovered that genealogy is a giant clue game, not unlike my career job. You get hunches and you go with them. If I get stuck, I’m surrounded by experts. Give me some time and I’ll find the information you’re looking for.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The tension between them crackled.
“What reason do you have to believe this Franz Buric is the one who abducted your sister?”
Maggie sucked in a breath. He’d made the obvious connection between her request for information on Buric and Kathryn’s abduction. Then again, not everyone read the brochure she automatically handed out to every person she met.
“We think he did it, but he’s not talking.”
“Which prison is he in?”
“Lompoc Penitentiary.”
He cocked his head. “Closer to my neck of the woods.”
“Yes.”
“Excuse
me?” A patron was standing at the counter.
Maggie couldn’t believe she’d been so lost in the conversation she’d forgotten where she was.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Helen Marsh, the owner of the Marsh Day Care Center. We run a summer program for elementary-age children whose parents work. I’d like to set up a time when one of your people could come and talk to the children, teach them how to take the proper precautions.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll call you the second I have information,” Jake said before leaving.
“Please do,” she said to his retreating back, experiencing the oddest sense of loss as he disappeared.
PLEASE DO.
Those words reverberated in his head as he walked out of the plaza and across the courtyard.
He could have pushed her to meet him after she closed up, but some instinct told him to proceed carefully with her. Finding answers to her sister’s abduction was Ms. McFarland’s whole raison d’être. She’d spent a lifetime on her quest.
If she’d been married, and was now divorced, it was probably because her husband couldn’t bear not to come first. Yet in his gut, Jake believed she’d never married. She had an untouched quality about her. Still, he supposed he could be wrong.
But he wasn’t wrong about his hunch that until her sister’s kidnapping case was solved, she would never allow herself to let go and just enjoy being with him. Since he’d made up his mind he wanted a personal, intimate relationship with her, he would focus on helping her learn the truth about her sister’s whereabouts as soon as possible. So, he made a new rule for himself. No contact until he could give her information…unless she called him to go out on a search.
Filled with a different kind of energy than he’d felt in years, he started jogging down the street and around the corner. Before he knew it, he was home, unable to recall the faces of people or the scenery on his way up the hill.
Hungrier than he’d been in a long time, he fixed a big dinner. Much as he would have liked a beer, he used restraint and didn’t get in his car to go to the store. Since meeting Ms. McFarland, restraint was going to be the key word.
Daughter's Return Page 4
