In Broad Daylight

by Marie Ferrarella

  It was all so twisted, so confused in her head, she couldn't begin to untangle it. Brenda pressed her lips together. She had no answer for him.

  And he had no words for her, none that he could trust himself to say out loud. Picking up his jacket off the rug in the living room, Dax walked out of her apartment without saying another word.

  The door vibrated in his wake as he slammed it.

  Brenda covered her mouth with her hands. Slowly she sank down on the floor and let the sobs pour out.

  Dax didn't realize that he'd driven his car over to his father's house until he pulled up in the driveway. When he focused on his surroundings, he shook his head. It was as if there was some kind of a homing device within the car, if not within him.

  For a moment, he remained in his car, letting the engine idle. Trying to decide just how many different kinds of a fool he was.

  How could he have gotten so entangled in her in such a short amount of time? This wasn't him, wasn't the way he operated. Fast and loose, short and sweet, that summed up his love life heretofore. When something's not broken, you shouldn't mess with it.

  But he had. Messed with it bad. Without ever intending to. When had his guard gone down? Why wasn't he even aware of it happening?

  Damn it, he'd gotten broadsided without even realizing that he was operating a vehicle. That he had ventured out on the road again.

  "You going to come in, or just sit there like some mesmerized mannequin, letting the car idle until it completely runs out of gas? Money burning a hole in your pocket, boy? They paying you too much these days?"

  He looked up and saw his father at the rolled-down passenger window, looking into the vehicle. Looking at him.

  The next moment, Brian Cavanaugh took the decision out of his son's hands. Going round the hood, he opened the driver's side door.

  "Come on in, I just made some fresh coffee and as usual, I made too much." There was a rueful smile on his lips. Five years since the funeral and he was still making coffee for Dax's departed mom, expecting her to walk into the kitchen, rummaging for coffee. The kitchen had turned out to be his domain rather than that of the woman he'd married. "You know how I hate throwing things away."

  A half smile formed on Dax's lips. Coffee had been what had set the ball rolling in the first place. He still hadn't had any. He nodded and got out of the car.

  Talking to someone, keeping his thoughts occupied until he could pull himself together again, was better than sitting around and brooding. He didn't doubt that was why he'd subconsciously driven over.

  He followed his father into the house where he and his brothers and sister had wreaked havoc not so long ago. Several coats of paint hid the fingerprints that somehow managed to liberally cover the walls despite all of his late mother's warnings to the contrary.

  How much paint did he need to apply to hide the hurt, the anger, he was feeling right now?

  He shut the thought away. Or tried to.

  In the kitchen, Brian crossed to the coffeemaker and got down two cups from the overhead cupboard. He lived alone now that the last of the kids were gone and, like his brother, didn't like it. Nothing pleased him more than having one or more of his kids drop by, even though he got to see them almost every day at the precinct.

  He eyed his oldest born now. "This about the case?"

  A million miles away, or, more to the point, ten, Dax blinked. "What?"

  Brian nodded at his son. "That look on your face, you look lost in thought, as if you were surprised you showed up where you did. This about the Tyler case?"

  "Yeah." And then, because other than the white lies that pockmarked every kid's childhood and had dotted his own, he'd never lied to his father, Dax changed his answer. "No."

  Turning with the pot of coffee in his hand, Brian looked at his first born and recognized the expression on his face. It was the same expression he'd seen staring back at him in the mirror after he'd had a fight with his late wife.

  "Oh, I see."

  No one needed to tell him that his father was sharp. He took pride in that. But when it came to his father being smarter about his private life than he was, that was something else again. Dax stiffened, instantly on the defensive, as if his mistakes were something to be jealousy guarded instead of torpedoed out into the ocean. "See what?"

  Brian allowed himself a smile. "I'm not chief of detectives because of my looks, boy." He shook his head as he poured an inky cup of coffee for Dax, then repeated the process for himself. The thicker the better had always been his belief. He didn't trust coffee that let him see the bottom of his cup, even for a moment.

  "Was beginning to think I'd never live to see the day," Brian murmured, half to himself, as he replaced the coffee pot on the burner.

  Dax was still on his guard. "Never live to see what day?"

  Brian took a seat on the stool beside him at the breakfast-nook counter. "The day my son finally found someone who mattered."

  Raising his cup, Dax put it down again without taking a drink. His father was too close to the subject. And dead wrong. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "The look on your face," Brian replied mildly. "It's the kind of look a man wears when the woman he loves has gotten to him." He tried to seem nonchalant as he asked, "Trouble in paradise, son?"

  Dax set his mouth grimly. "No paradise, Dad."

  "I know it feels that way now, but whatever it is, it'll blow over." His expression grew slightly more serious. "Just make sure you don't blow it."

  Dax gritted his teeth together. Served him right for not paying attention and driving over here in the first place. He'd meant to go to the precinct; winding up at his father's house was by pure accident. "There is no woman, Dad."

  Brian's face was the picture of innocence. "No?"

  "No."

  The old man always could see right through him, Dax thought, only partially annoyed. He wondered if it was a gift he'd been born with, or something that happened when you had kids. Like a fairy godmother granting you a super power to help you keep up with over-energized younger people.

  Dax relented. A little. "Just someone I met a couple of days ago."

  The smile on Brian's face was knowing. "Time isn't a factor, Dax. I knew an hour after I met your mother that I was going to marry her, or live single the rest of my life."

  More fairy tales. Well, he was too old for that kind of thing. "Not everyone's like you."

  Brian inclined his head. "No, but there's more like me than you think." He gave Dax's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever it is, you'll work it out. I've got faith in you. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Dax, you always have."

  Too bad he didn't have any faith in himself, Dax thought as he took a long sip of coffee. Choking it down, he could almost feel it land in his stomach. His eyes watered slightly as he looked at his father. "God, what is this, dad? It tastes like boiled mud."

  Brian beamed with pride. "My own special brew. Want more?"

  Dax pushed his cup forward on the counter. "Yes, please."

  Brenda dragged her hand through her hair. She felt like hell on a bad day. She'd spent the entire night trying to find ten minutes of sleep and had only half succeeded.

  In reality, she was too exhausted to go to work, but in no condition to remain home, alone with her thoughts and staring at the walls in her apartment. And though she wanted to go, there was no way she could just show up at the Tylers.

  Simon Tyler had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her there and she knew after last night, Dax wouldn't appreciate the sight of her either. Even though the kidnapper had demanded to talk to only her, she doubted very much if either Tyler or Dax would be calling her to talk to him. The kidnapper had what he wanted.

  But, on the outside chance that she was wrong, she made sure her cell phone was on as she put it in her purse. Staying home, waiting for God only knew what, was out of the question. She knew she would literally go out of her mind.

  She had no other choice but
to go to work.

  She showered quickly, keeping the phone close by, then dressed and left. It was only after she was on the main thoroughfare driving to the academy that she remembered she'd forgotten to take her prenatal vitamins. She might as well have kept them in the medicine cabinet, she thought ruefully. At least then Dax wouldn't have found them.

  It was better this way, she told herself. Deception was nothing to build a relationship on. And now, there was no relationship to build.

  She forced her mind on her job. And remembered that when she'd called Matthew about not coming in yesterday, she'd told him that she'd be gone today as well. He probably had a substitute in place. But plans could change, right? Look how much her life had changed in the last few days.

  Stop it, she ordered silently, turning up the radio in her car to drown out her thoughts. She couldn't afford to go there yet. She'd fall apart if she did. The only way she was going to make it through the day was if she didn't think, just acted. Automatic pilot was a state she was more than familiar with. She'd been on it more than once in her life, most recently the day she'd found out that she was a widow and a mother within an hour.

  That which doesn't kill us makes us strong.

  She didn't feel particularly strong right now.

  She knocked lightly on Harwood's door, then stuck in her head. "Hi."

  Matthew seemed surprised to see her. "I didn't think you were coming in. Is there anything new?" The words rushed out.

  Yes, there's something new. I fell in love and got dumped, all in under a week.

  "No," she told him. "The police are still trying to find leads."

  He looked pale to her. She wasn't accustomed to seeing him this way. He was normally so poised, so at ease with every situation. The kidnapping had taken a definite toll on him.

  "I know I told you I wasn't coming in, but I thought I might do some good here."

  He nodded. "Of course. I'm glad you're back. The children have missed you."

  And she'd missed them, she thought. They were what kept her grounded and right now, she desperately needed that.

  Walking into her classroom, she nodded at the substitute who had been called in.

  "No, stay," she urged as the woman silently took her cue and began to gather her things. "I have a feeling I might need help today."

  Instantly, the children were around her, leaving their desks and firing questions at her. For once, she allowed order to take a back seat. They'd been through a lot by proxy. Counselors were still on standby.

  "Did they find Annie?" a little redhead asked her eagerly.

  More than anything, she wished she could say yes. "No, not yet. But they will."

  "Did the bad people really take her?" a little boy wanted to know.

  "No, Tommy, they didn't," Alicia, her most vocal student, chimed in. "Mr. Harwood wouldn't let them take her."

  Brenda smiled. It was wonderful to have such faith, to be so young and feel so protected. "Mr. Harwood wouldn't have wanted them to take her, but he wasn't there to stop them, Alicia."

  Alicia frowned, her small blond eyebrows drawing together. "Why not? He took Annie out of line."

  Something tightened within Brenda's chest. She remembered hearing Matthew tell the detective that he hadn't seen Annie on the day she was kidnapped.

  Without trying to frighten the little girl, Brenda turned toward her and crouched down to her level. "When, Alicia? Think very carefully now. When did Mr. Harwood take Annie out of line?"

  Alicia raised her chin. "I don't have to think carefully. I remember. It was when the fire alarm went off."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  Brenda stared at the little girl, her mind racing, entertaining thoughts that couldn't possibly be true. Alicia had to be mistaken. Matthew Harwood was dedicated to his school. He loved children. There was nothing else in his life. He wouldn't do something as heinous as be involved in Annie's kidnapping.

  But if so, why had he lied to the police about not seeing Annie?

  Brenda struggled to keep the urgency out of her voice. She didn't want to alarm Alicia, although the little girl had a fearless aura around her. It was one of the reasons she'd attempted to couple her with Annie in the first place, hoping some of that courage would rub off on the latter.

  Her eyes held Alicia's. "Alicia, are you very, very sure? Maybe you're confused about when you saw him with Annie."

  The children around them fell silent as they listened in rapt attention. Alicia remained adamant. She nodded her head so hard her silken blond hair bobbed up and down around her small shoulders.

  "It was after the fire alarm rang. We were running out of the art room. Annie was behind me and I turned around to take her hand—you said we were supposed to have partners," Alicia reminded her.

  "Yes, I did." Brenda forced a smile to her lips, encouraging Alicia to continue. All the while, her mind was reeling. If this was true, then Matthew really was mixed up in this somehow. "Alicia, why didn't you say anything about this before?"

  Alicia looked surprised at the question. "Nobody asked me if Mr. Harwood was with her."

  No, Brenda thought, they hadn't.

  She had to find out for herself.

  Rising, Brenda looked at the substitute who was clearly confused by what was going on. That made two of them. And there wasn't time for explanations, even if she could pull one together that would satisfy them both. She needed more.

  Brenda crossed to the door. "Would you take over the class, please?"

  "Of course," the substitute replied.

  "Aw." Nineteen small voices converged, becoming one in their protest.

  She stopped to look at the upturned faces. Any one of them could have been kidnapped instead of Annie. They didn't realize how lucky they were.

  "I'll be back," she promised them.

  Halfway down the hall to Harwood's office, she stopped abruptly. As much as she wanted to confront the headmaster, as much as she wanted him to give her some kind of plausible explanation for what Alicia had seen and tell her why he'd lied about seeing Annie, she knew she had to hold back. Going into his office now with this would lose the element of surprise.

  If they needed it, she amended.

  In her heart, she knew what she had to do. She had to call Dax.

  Instantly, she felt a weakness wash over her. She didn't have that luxury, she argued silently. This wasn't personal, this was about saving Annie.

  Making a U-turn, she ducked into the recreation area.

  This hour of the morning, the large room with its big screen TV—ironically a gift from Simon Tyler and his wife—and entertainment enhancements was empty. She didn't want anyone overhearing her make her call.

  While dialing Dax's cell phone number, Brenda's stomach felt as if it was twisting into a very tight knot. As it rang against her ear, she mentally counted to ten in an effort to get herself under control. Her nerves refused to cooperate.

  And then she heard him, heard his deep voice as it echoed against her ear. "Cavanaugh."

  Words rushed into her head. Why did you leave like that? Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you talk to me? She forced them all back. Now wasn't the time. Maybe it never would be.

  "Dax, I think you should get down to the school." She heard silence on the other end of the line and wondered if the connection had gone dead. "Dax, are you still there? This is Brenda. You need to—"

  "I know who it is."

  His voice was distant, each word measured out. An awkwardness threatened to swallow her whole. But this was bigger than her feelings and the relationship that had been so abruptly aborted; it had left her reeling.

  "Listen to me," she ordered. "According to one of my kids, Harwood took Annie out of line just before we left the building during that fire incident. I heard him tell you he hadn't seen Annie that morning."

  "How much imagination does this kid have?"

  "Her parents are both scientists. She is as pragmatic as a s
ix-year-old can be. More."

  "Where are you right now?"

  "I'm at the school right now. I came into work because…" She caught herself in time. "Because the school was open."

  He didn't question her. Despite his talk with his father, he wasn't up to discussing what was going on between them just yet. Only that he knew it couldn't be over this way. But that was for later. "Have you said anything to Harwood?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Don't." She thought she heard a hint of approval in his voice, but that could have just been wishful thinking. "I'll be right there."

  She was left with a dial tone in her ear.

  Brenda was on the steps waiting for him when he pulled up in the parking lot shortly thereafter. She looked wan, he thought, as if someone had kicked apart her world. That made two of them.

  He resisted the temptation to say something to her. To touch her face the way he wanted to. Instead, he asked about the girl. Brenda took him to her immediately.

  He thought it best not to remove Alicia from the classroom, but to question her apart from the others. The substitute herded the rest of the children, their curiosity severely peaked, to the other side to play a learning game.

  Brenda gently ushered the girl forward. "Alicia, this is Detective Dax. He'd like to ask you some questions."

  Alicia looked up at him. "I remember. You came here after the fire."

  He felt as if he was talking to an intelligent adult instead of a six-year-old child. At six, he was playing with his cousins and getting dirty. The little girl before him looked as if she was preparing to do long division. In her head.

  "Yes, I did. Do you want to tell me what you told Mrs. York?"

  Alicia tossed her head, sighed and repeated what she'd said earlier. "Mrs. York was getting us out of the art room. Annie was behind me. I turned around to take her hand because Mrs. York always wanted me to be friends with her and I saw Mr. Harwood taking Annie away. He was holding her by the hand and talking to her. She was smiling." She'd uttered the entire statement on one breath and huffed as she came to the end of it. Getting a second wind, she looked up at the detective. "Okay?"