“Is the photo of Nicole a good likeness?”
Kate’s gaze moved to the framed photograph sitting between them on the kitchen counter. A lump formed in her throat. Photogenic Nicole, smiling at the camera, her blue eyes full of laughter and life and her lips curved in a soft smile. Honey brown hair flowed around her face in bouncy waves giving her sister an angelic look. With the vision, came a memory and a sense of pique that made her ashamed. Nicole—the successful sister. She’d balanced the world on the tips of her fingers and scored opportunities from life without even trying. Kate had fought for everything. She still did.
“Yes, it’s a good likeness,” she whispered. She slid onto a wooden barstool, forcing back both tears and the remnants of jealousy she couldn’t quite shake.
Lane resumed his pacing. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t sleep around.” Lane stopped when he saw the indignant glower on Kate’s face. “I didn’t mean to imply your sister slept around. Hell. It’s the wait for Jamie’s birth certificate. It’s f… Ah, never mind.”
“None of this is easy for Jamie or me either,” Kate pointed out, a bite in her voice. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll work on a list of Nicole’s friends tonight. We can start contacting them tomorrow.” His coiled body, resembling a tiger about to pounce, made Kate think he would argue, but finally he gave a brief nod of consent. She stood, enforcing her suggestion for him to leave.
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “I’ll ring tomorrow.”
Kate drew a sharp breath. That sounded more like a threat than a promise.
She trailed after him, clicking the door shut once he’d left and locking it. Back in the kitchen, she sank onto the barstool again. Jamie’s birth certificate would arrive in approximately eight days. That day couldn’t come soon enough.
The telephone pealed insistently and she let the answering machine pick up the call. Probably a member of the press. She had nothing to say to them.
Kate checked her watch, surprised to see it was almost six. Jamie should have arrived home hours ago.
“Jamie!” A sudden nagging fear made her voice sharp. The withdrawn and slightly sullen behavior wasn’t normal. Jamie was usually a sunny child full of fun and high spirits.
Kate took the stairs two at a time and with a trembling hand, tapped on Jamie’s bedroom door. “Are you there, Jamie?” When he didn’t reply, she pushed the door open and peered inside.
The caged rat paused its rustling at the bottom of the makeshift cage, its small pointed nose wrinkling as it gazed at Kate with beady eyes. Kate averted her eyes, seeking Jamie.
He wasn’t in his room. A slow chill threaded its way through her veins.
She ran back downstairs and checked outside. Still nothing. Finally, she reached for the phone and dialed the Wrights’ number.
“Danielle. It’s Kate. Have you seen Jamie?”
“Isn’t he at home? We dropped him off at your house after rugby practice before I took the twins shopping for new school shoes.”
Traces of panic unfurled in Kate, lending sharpness to her voice. “I haven’t seen him since you picked him up this morning. What time did you drop him off?”
“Not long after four. Just a moment. I’ll check with the twins. They might know where Jamie is.”
The phone clicked at the other end when Dani set it down. Kate gripped the receiver when she heard Dani shout for the twins. It didn’t take long for her to return.
“As far as the boys know Jamie is at home. They rang him not long ago but no one answered.”
Kate rubbed at her temple trying to ease the sudden ache. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. Search again. That’s what she needed to do.
“He did seem a little quiet today,” Danielle commented.
Kate tried to sound cheerful but failed to fool either Dani or herself. Her voice cracked when she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and started again. “He’s a little put out by this business about his father. I’d better go. He must be here somewhere. I’m probably panicking about nothing.”
“Don’t worry. You know what kids are like. You’ll find him holed up in a corner somewhere sulking.” Although her words were encouraging, a thread of worry skittered through her tone, as if she suspected something worse had happened. It wasn’t reassuring.
“You’re right.” Kate forced her stiff lips to a smile but it took a great effort, especially since she detected Dani’s unease. Her son had never disappeared without telling her where he was going.
“Ring me when you find him.”
“I will,” Kate promised. She retraced her steps and searched behind doors and under beds. Her terror grew as she eliminated each possible hiding place. It would be dark soon. Where could he be? She moved her search outside.
Half an hour later, Kate grasped the handle of her front door, trying but failing to subdue a sob threatening to burst through her lips. She pushed open the door, calling Jamie’s name. The answering silence mocked her.
When she rang Danielle again, her friend picked up the phone straightaway. “Is that you, Kate?”
“Yes. Dani, I’ve searched everywhere I could think of. I don’t suppose Jamie…”
“I’m sorry. He hasn’t rung the twins.”
A giant knot formed in her throat, spreading downward to encircle her lungs and restrict her breathing. Hot tears burned her eyes. She blinked, struggling to hold them at bay. “Um, I’d better go.”
“What are you going to do?” Danielle asked. “Do you want me to come over?”
“I’ll check with his other friends and if I still can’t find him, I’ll ring the police. I can’t think what else to do.” The tears finally overflowed and trickled down her cheeks. “I’ve checked everywhere,” she finished on a sob.
“Okay,” Danielle said quietly. “Ring me if you need me. Moral support. Anything. Anytime. Promise?”
Kate swallowed. “Thanks, Dani. I promise.”
Ten minutes later, after ringing every one of Jamie’s friends, Kate dropped the phone and held her head in her hands. Fear permeated bone deep. The urge to give in to her tears nearly overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t afford the luxury of allowing her emotions full rein. She reached for the phone again and her hand visibly trembled. She hesitated. Another search.
Just in case.
Upstairs in Jamie’s bedroom, Kate scanned the contents of his wardrobe. No clothes missing. His school pack wasn’t in his room but he might have it with him.
Her stomach churned. Her legs threatened to fold as she returned to the kitchen and the telephone. Time to ring the police. She checked the directory for the local station and dialed the number. Minutes later, she spoke to one of the police constables who had visited earlier in the day.
Rapidly, she explained the situation to Police Constable Allen. “I’ve searched the house and grounds—twice. I’ve checked with his friends. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Miss Alexander, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The act of setting down the phone made her remember the answer machine in her office. She hadn’t checked it yet. Kate hurried through to The Sanctuary to see the light on the machine blinking insistently. Had Jamie called? While she waited for the police to arrive, Kate checked the messages. As each message played, her hopes dwindled. Messages from two clients confirming appointments, one from a prospective client and one hang-up. One more to go.
“Take that bitch.” The venom in the three words made a chill sprint down her spine. Take what? she wondered uneasily. The harsh whisper could have been male or female. Kate couldn’t tell. Did the call have something to do with Jamie’s disappearance?
A car pulled up outside her house. Kate peeked through the net curtains. The police. Thank God.
“This is Detective Harwood,” Constable Allen said when Kate opened the door to the constable and a policewoman.
“Come in.” Kate led them into the kitchen.
Detective Harwood pulled out a spiral-bound notebo
ok and flipped it open. Question after question pounded Kate like invisible fists. What sort of a mother was she when she lost her son?
“Do you mind if Constable Allen has a quick look around the house?”
“That’s fine,” Kate said. “You might want to listen to one of the messages on my answer phone. It’s a little weird. It might have something to do with Jamie’s disappearance.”
“I mentioned to Detective Harwood you’ve been the victim of practical jokes over the last week.”
“Yes.” Kate nodded, struggling against the onset of tears.
“In the news as well,” Detective Harwood said after her colleague had left the room.
“That I could do without,” Kate bit out.
“You and your son live here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Could your son be with his father, either willingly or by force?”
“Lane?” The question made Kate pause. Lane thought Jamie was a Gerrard, but would he kidnap him? Kate thought about it and discarded the idea almost immediately. Apart from the fact that Lane struck her as an honorable man, he hadn’t left here until about five. Jamie would never have gone off with Lane willingly. Not in his present mood. Her face cleared. “I don’t think so,” she said, “but I can check. Perhaps I should explain. I’m not Jamie’s biological mother. I don’t know who Jamie’s father is.” Kate ploughed onward, ignoring the detective’s raised eyebrows. “The stories appearing in the press are pure supposition. Lane Gerrard and I only met two days ago.”
The detective tapped her pencil on her notebook. “I see.”
Kate clenched her jaw against rising anger. She could see all too clearly herself. The detective had made her own assumptions the same as the press.
Detective Harwood shrugged off Kate’s glare. “I need to cover all angles. Have you and your son argued lately? Has anything happened that would make him run away?”
“No.” Kate frowned. “But Jamie is understandably upset with the press allegations about his father. It’s not easy for him. Reporters tried to interview him yesterday at rugby practice and the other kids are teasing him at school.”
Constable Allen poked his head around the corner. “Detective, I think you should listen to this message.”
While the police officers listened to the tape several times, Kate attempted to contact Lane. His private number was unlisted, but after several calls, she managed to contact his agent’s office.
“Good evening. Lucas and Associates.”
“Hello,” Kate said. “I need to contact Lane Gerrard right away. Could I have his phone number, please?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give out Mr. Gerrard’s private telephone number.” The receptionist’s voice took on a frosty tone. “It’s against company policy. The best I can do is take a message and have Mr. Gerrard contact you.”
“This is an emergency,” Kate protested.
“That’s what they all say,” the officious woman replied. “Mr. Gerrard has instructed us not to release his number under any circumstances.”
Despite her earlier convictions, an insidious thought wormed its way into her brain. What if Lane had arranged for someone else to take Jamie? What if he had made sure he spent time with her so he had an airtight alibi?
Kate took a deep breath, trying to smother her spiraling fears. Keep your temper. The woman’s only doing her job. “Could I leave a message?”
“Certainly.”
Kate rattled off her name and number to the woman. “Tell him it’s about Jamie. He will get the message straightaway? It’s important.”
“I will do my best,” the woman promised, a tart quality to her voice now, as if she resented Kate pressing her.
“Thank you,” Kate said, infusing her tone with sincerity. She hoped the woman would pass on her message but wouldn’t hold her breath. Callers who expected to speak with the celebrities they represented were probably a standard office joke. The employees most likely told stories each time they were together, laughing at the fan’s expense.
Detective Harwood strode into the kitchen, concern written on her tired face. “I don’t like that message at all. Can we take the tape with us?”
Kate nodded. “That’s fine. I have spares. What will happen next with Jamie?”
“We’ll circulate his description and photo around neighboring police stations. Constable Allen and I will canvass the neighbors. Maybe one of them saw him leave after Mrs. Wright dropped him off. Could I have Mrs. Wright’s address? I’d like to talk to her. Mr. Gerrard as well.” Detective Harwood reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number. If your son arrives home or you have further crank calls, let me know.”
“I will,” Kate promised. “I’ve just tried to contact Mr. Gerrard, but I don’t have his number. I’ve left a message with his agent’s receptionist.”
“Try not to worry, Miss Alexander. We will contact Mr. Gerrard.”
As Kate showed the two officers out, fear and anxiety stabbed at her gut. Don’t worry. That was a joke. How could she not worry?
* * * * *
Kate prowled the house for hours, waiting to hear from or about Jamie. In the early hours of the morning, she lay down, fully clothed on her bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. What felt like hours later, Kate groped for her bedside clock. Four a.m. The faint ticking assured her it was working. Darkness shrouded familiar surroundings, casting looming shadows that added to her growing fear. She flopped over to her other side, the duvet cover twisting with each fidgety move. Too early to leave the house to search for Jamie. Too soon to ring Danielle or check with the police since she’d rung them less than two hours ago. She lay wide-eyed, waiting for daylight. Her dry eyes burned in their sockets. Her body screamed for sleep but she couldn’t relax. Not with her mind constantly replaying like a video loop.
“Jamie, where are you?” she whispered.
Worst-case scenarios swept through her mind. Jamie captured by a sicko, being tortured or abused, or lying in a hospital with no one knowing his identity. Had the police checked the hospitals? She bolted upright then slumped back down. Standard procedure. Of course, they had checked the hospitals.
An hour later, Kate gave up the battle and clambered from bed. After a warm shower and a change of clothes, she trudged to the kitchen and made herself a pot of herbal tea—a stimulating blend she prayed would work or at least keep her mind functioning.
She checked her watch. Five minutes later than when she’d last checked. Kate succumbed to her urge to contact the police station. She knew if they had found Jamie, they’d let her know, but the inactivity drove her crazy.
Tears flowed down her face. Acid from too much coffee late last night burned in her gut. Never had she felt so helpless, so alone.
She dialed. Someone answered. Her request spilled out. The policeman went away and came back minutes later.
“I’m sorry, Miss Alexander. There’s no news. We will ring as soon as we learn anything.”
“Thank you.” Kate’s hopes crashed with his polite words. She dried her eyes on her T-shirt before picking up a cloth to scrub the kitchen counter and cupboard doors. It was a slow process. She found herself gazing into space, thinking of Jamie, fearing for him and thinking the worst. He was nine. Not old enough to stay out all night.
Where was he?
She would do almost anything to see his face at that moment, even let him keep Ratty. The thought gave her pause. The wretched rodent would need feeding and watering.
The phone jolted her from morbid thoughts. Her heart hammered urgently against her ribs as if she’d sprinted the length of a rugby field. Dry-mouthed with fear, she grabbed the phone.
“Hello?” She gripped the phone harder to stop her hand shaking.
“Kate, it’s Adam. Have you found Jamie?”
Her hopes plummeted and bitter disappointment made her terse and snappy. “Not yet.”
“Would…” Adam hesitated as though weighing his next
words. “What did the police say?”
A spasm of pain pierced her heart and her knuckles turned white as she attempted to hold back her cry of anguish. “Nothing really. They’ve circulated Jamie’s description and photo. Did they talk to Danielle?”
“Yeah, and the twins. Kate, I have to go. I’m filming early this morning. But if there’s anything we can do, let us know.”
“I will. Thanks.” She hung up, shivering despite her layers of clothes.
The morning passed in a haze of inactivity. Kate wished she could leave the house, search for Jamie herself, but the police vetoed that suggestion. They wanted her to stay at home in case Jamie rang.
Every time the phone rang or someone came to the door, hope burgeoned only to dive to despair when it wasn’t Jamie.
At ten-thirty, Detective Harwood rang to tell her they were releasing details to the press in the hope someone would come forward with news. After that, the phone rang almost nonstop. The press wanting interviews.
None of the callers were Jamie.
* * * * *
After his morning meeting with Caryn, his long-time agent, Eva, the receptionist, stopped Lane when he stepped from her office. She handed him two thick piles of message slips, one blue, the other yellow. Her blue eyes twinkled.
“Your messages, Lane. Same code as usual. Blue for possibly legitimate and yellow for starstruck. You’re in big demand—top of the popularity stakes.”
“I hate to tell you this, Eva, but most of these people want something from me.” His mouth twisted as he dropped the yellow pile in the rubbish bin. “Most probably for free.”
“Rather you than me,” Eva said with a cheeky wink and a toss of her curl-covered head. “Fame! You can have it. I’ve seen what you have to put up with.” She nodded at the blue messages Lane held. “Do you read them?”
Playing to Win Page 6
