by Pat Warren
Surprised and somewhat amused, Briana looked away from his laughing eyes. Now, where had that come from?
It was dusk by the time the three of them settled at an outdoor table in front of Ricardo’s Mexican Restaurant two blocks from the exhibit. Mariachi singers with guitars wandered about, serenading the late diners. The red lanterns strung along the fenced-off area added sparkle to Irma’s auburn hair as she gazed up at the mustached waiter and insisted on ordering for all of them.
“We’ll have black bean nachos for starters, young man,” she began. “With extra hot sauce. Then jalapeno chicken, cheese enchiladas, and a double order of chile rellenos. Of course, you’ll bring rice and refried beans as well, yes?”
“Yes, madam.” The young man smiled broadly.
“Aren’t you going to write down the order?” Irma asked him.
The waiter pointed to his head. “All in here, madam. And to drink?”
“A big pitcher of margaritas, of course. No salt. Bad for you.” She winked at him, then watched him walk away. “Nice buns, don’t you think, Briana?”
“Irma, behave.” But she was smiling as she dipped a tortilla chip in a bowl of salsa.
Irma frowned. “Why would I begin now?” She smiled over at Slade, impressed with the fact that he’d spent the last several hours strolling around with them, not saying much but seemingly interested in everything on display, stopping occasionally to answer a question about Jeremy’s paintings. She was determined to make the most of this opportunity and find out more about J.D. Slade. For Briana’s sake, of course. “Now, remember, this dinner’s on me. To thank you both for dragging me along.”
“No one has to be forced to take you anywhere, Irma,” Briana commented, meaning it. “You’ve got friends on every street in Nantucket.”
“Longevity, my dear, is its own reward. The secret is outliving people. Then there’s no one left to correct your ramblings or your memory.”
Slade had to smile. The woman was irrepressible. “You mean there are those who would dare correct you?”
“Used to be,” Irma answered as their waiter set frosty glasses in front of them, then filled each to the brim with frothy liquid. “Very few of my contemporaries left, don’t you know.” She held up her glass. “Here’s to friendship.”
“Friendship,” they both echoed, then everyone drank.
“Mmm, that’s tart. Wonderful.” Irma set down her glass carefully. Time to test the waters. “You know that painting of Jeremy’s that Ned had on display, the one that looked like a sea of daffodils?” she asked, looking at Slade.
“I know the one.”
“How much is that, or do you want me to go through the gallery?”
“No, I want you to have it, as my gift”
Irma wrinkled her forehead, then thought better of it The doctor had told her after the last face-lift that a wrinkled brow would negate all of his fine work. “I wasn’t fishing, young man. And I won’t accept such an expensive gift Just tell me the price. I’m not without resources.”
“I’m sure you’re not. Nor am I. It would be my pleasure to give it to you.” He glanced at Briana, then back to the older woman. “Someone told me that paintings should reside with people who love them. I thought at the time it was an odd concept, people loving paintings. Most places I’ve lived, people hung paintings to cover the cracks in the wall. But I think I understand more now. Please, allow me to give it to you.”
“Well, if you insist, but I have a feeling I’m getting a real bargain in exchange for this measly meal.” The measly meal arrived then and was anything but, the huge platterlike plates taking up nearly every square inch of table space. “Oh, doesn’t this smell heavenly?”
“I love Mexican food,” Briana commented, picking up her fork. She was pleased that Irma seemed able to get Slade to open up.
“The best I’ve ever tasted was in California,” he said, “in this little dive of a place south of San Diego. Their salsa would bring tears to your eyes.”
“Were you stationed there in the navy?” Irma asked, glad he’d unknowingly given her an opening.
“Part of the time.” He took a bite of steaming, fragrant enchilada and felt fire ripple along his tongue.
“Where else did you go in your travels?”
Briana glanced up, hoping Irma wasn’t going to give the poor guy the third degree, as she seemed destined to do. But the older woman avoided her eyes.
“Oh, here and there, wherever they sent me,” Slade answered.
“My, you’re as reticent as your father was.” Undaunted that Briana was sending her disapproving looks, Irma swallowed a bit of rice and moved on. “I thought all men liked to talk about themselves.”
Slade looked into sly eyes behind glasses framed in exotic turquoise. “All right, let’s see. I spent four years in the navy, visiting Germany, Hawaii, the Philippines, and Korea, courtesy of the government After that I became a fireman in the Sacramento area. I’ve never been married, have no children, but I do have all my own teeth. My health is excellent, my shoe size twelve, I prefer Colgate toothpaste, and my intentions are strictly dishonorable. Did I leave anything out?”
Cute, Irma thought with admiration. “I like this man,” she told Briana, who wasn’t smiling. Irma ignored her friend. “Why’d you quit the fire department?”
Briana’s gaze flew to Slade’s face, noticing only a flicker of reaction in his eyes, but he recovered quickly.
“Wouldn’t you if you inherited all of Jeremy’s worldly goods?”
A great evasive answer, Irma decided. “Maybe. I rather thought that firefighting got into your blood. Not so?”
“Not everyone’s blood.”
“Since you’ve never married, then have you ever lived with anyone? A female, I mean. You’re not kinky, are you?”
“Irma, honestly. That’s enough.” Briana was truly embarrassed at this point. Some gentle old ladies thought their age gave them permission to ask personal questions they’d have thought rude forty years ago.
“That’s all right,” Slade said, because to be ungracious would just whet her appetite. Irma was like a dog with a juicy new bone, not about to let go despite Briana’s discomfort. “Yes, I lived with a woman once, for about half a year.”
Finally, pay dirt.“Six months isn’t very long. What happened?”
Before Briana could lodge a new protest, Slade answered. “She kicked me out.” He had no intention of telling her more, so while Irma thought that over, he grabbed the conversational ball. “Tell me about your husbands, Irma. I understand you’ve had three and outlived them all.”
A neat turnaround, Irma thought. The man was probably great at board games. “Do you play chess, Slade?”
“Yes. Jeremy taught me when I was quite young. Want to take me on?”
It was on the tip of Irma’s tongue to give a cheeky reply reeking with sexual innuendo, but she didn’t want to irritate Briana any more than she already had. She’d back off. For now. But there was something lurking behind those hooded eyes, she decided. One day, she’d find out what it was. “Name the date and hour and I’ll be there. As to your question, Oscar was my first husband, a workaholic. Carter was my second, an alcoholic. And Mac Tatum was my third, a sweet man except for his love of gambling.” She sighed lustily. “I married three men with different addictions. I haven’t been lucky in love, Slade.” Her past was no one’s business but her own, which, Irma had just learned, was exactly how J.D. Slade felt. “Does that give us something in common?”
“It certainly does.”
A lucky thing for Irma that respect for her elders had been drilled into her by a military father, Briana thought, or she’d have kicked the older woman under the table for grilling Slade under the hot lights. She knew Irma meant well, that she didn’t trust Slade and wanted to reveal his bad side, if he had one, before Briana got too involved. But she hated inquisitions and meant to let Irma know just how displeased she was at the first opportunity. There was a time to prote
ct someone and a time not to. She was, after all, a grown woman and not some teenager.
Only half listening to one of Irma’s dead husband stories, Briana poked at her remaining food, filling up fast She leaned back for a breather and took a sip of her margarita. Gazing out past the half wall surrounding the outdoor section, she noticed Pam and Chris Reed walking toward them, their faces anxious. She raised her hand to wave.
“Hey, you two, what’s up?”
“Oh, God, Brie,” the very pregnant Pam said, coming up to the partitioned-off table. “It’s Annie. We can’t find her. Have you by any chance seen her?”
“She’s wearing a red sweatshirt, jeans, and plaid sneakers,” Chris interjected, brushing back a lock of curly red hair.
Catching their anxiety, Briana stood. “No, not since we ran into the three of you buying caramel corn, remember?”
“That has to be at least two hours ago,” Irma added. “When did she come up missing?”
There was an edge of panic to Pam’s voice. “About twenty minutes now, right Chris? We’d gone into this pet store and I reminded Annie to stay close to me because it was really crowded in there. Then Chris called me over to look at this adorable puppy and when I turned around to point him out to Annie, she wasn’t there.” Pam’s hands were trembling as she stuffed them in the pockets of her jacket that she could no longer zip over her belly. “Oh, God, where did she go?”
“Now, honey, don’t cry.” But Chris’s voice was quivery, too. “She’s got to be here somewhere.” He was a tall man, with blue eyes that scanned the people milling about, some friends and neighbors, others visiting strangers, looking for that little blond head.
“Have you notified the police?” Slade asked, remembering having seen several officers strolling past.
Pam’s eyes grew huge. “The police? You don’t think … I mean, surely no one would … oh, God!” She crammed one hand to her mouth, too upset for words.
Briana quickly introduced Slade to the Reeds. “We’ll help you look, and we’ll round up others.” She walked around the restaurant’s barrier wall while Slade threw some money on the table. Irma moved to put a comforting arm around Pam.
“Let’s go back to the spot where you last saw her, and then fan out from there, each of us taking a different path,” Slade suggested. In step with Chris, who seemed relieved to have someone, anyone, take over, he asked a few hardball questions out of earshot of Pam. “Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around that pet store?” A store with puppies would be an ideal place for a child to be snatched, since animals fascinated kids.
“No, no one. There’s my friend, Pete Wilder. I know he’ll help.” Chris hurried over.
At the pet store, Pam tearfully informed the owner what had happened. To Briana’s amazement, in a matter of minutes, Slade had eight people organized, each going off to search a different area.
“I’d better go with you, Irma,” Briana told her. People were still out and about and the streetlights were on, but the side streets especially around the wharf area were quite dark. She didn’t want the older woman falling and adding to the problem.
“Briana,” Irma said, pulling herself up to her full five-seven height, “I’m perfectly capable of walking these streets alone.” With that, she turned, skirts swirling, and headed in the direction she’d been assigned.
“Okay, you win,” Briana muttered, walking over to Slade. “I’m going down toward town, then. Where’ll you be?”
“I’m staying right here in case Annie comes back. I’m better at coordinating than searching.”
She took a moment to study his face, wondering why he wouldn’t meet her eyes. His mouth was a thin line and he seemed paler in the artificial light. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Will you get going? We’ve got to find her. We’ve got to find Annie.”
Moving off hurriedly, Briana wondered when Slade had become so attached to little Annie. Of course, they were all anxious to find her. When a child became lost or was in danger, she was everyone’s child. But to the best of her knowledge, he’d only had that one conversation with the little girl when he’d rescued her kitten from the tree.
Perhaps Annie reminded him of someone, she decided as she rushed into a toy store, peering down all the aisles. Finally, she asked the owner to make an announcement, but although she waited several minutes, Annie didn’t show. Briana walked on to the next establishment.
Slade didn’t give a damn if it upset the Reeds, he detided it was time to involve the police when he saw an officer stroll around the comer of the pet store. He signaled the man over.
Within ten minutes, the officer had a much larger search party organized, having radioed for backup. Slade gave them a detailed description, then tried to calm Pam, who’d wandered back. Noticing her strained pallor, he insisted she sit down on a bench just outside the shop. Her pregnancy looked to be quite advanced.
“When are you due?” he asked, trying to distract her.
“Six weeks.” She sniffled into a tissue. “Annie never does this. I can’t imagine what possessed her to wander away.” Horrified eyes looked up at him. “You don’t suppose someone … that she might have been …” Pam couldn’t finish the thought out loud.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. We need to stay calm.” But inside, Slade was anything but calm, remembering another night, another frantic mother, another child in danger. He felt sweat break out on his neck and trail down between his shoulder blades.
Pam clutched at his sweater’s sleeve, recalling that she’d been told Slade was a fireman, a man sworn to help people. “Please, help me find my little girl. I knew your father. He was a good man. He’d help us if he were still alive. Please, bring me my baby.”
The words echoed in Slade’s head, their meaning cutting through to his core. Please, bring me my baby. Oh, God, not again.
Unable to look at her another minute, Slade walked away, then broke off in a run. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t hide out organizing when what he really needed to do was search like everyone else. Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe this time, the gods would be with him.
Briana slowly walked back to the pet store, her steps dragging. She’d been up and down the streets, in dozens of shops, talking with countless people, asking if they’d seen a small, towheaded little girl about six. No one had. As she approached, she saw Pam sitting on a bench, Chris crouching in front of her as she wept. Several police hovered around together with onlookers and members of the search party who’d returned.
But no sweet, freckle-faced child.
Almost in tears, she joined them, seeing by their faces that no one had gotten lucky. Irma had lost her bounce as she moved to sit alongside Pam, to pull her close and lend a measure of comfort. Behind her glasses, her blue eyes were swimming with tears.
The senior officer’s name tag read “Sgt. Bremer.” He turned to Chris Reed and Briana, who was standing with him. “I think we’re going to have to face some harsh facts. We could be looking at an abduction.” He kept his voice low.
Chris turned even paler as he glanced at his wife, making sure she hadn’t heard. “Why would someone abduct our child? We don’t have that kind of money.”
“Well, sir, not all abductors are interested in ransom money.”
His mouth a grim line, Chris closed his eyes as the unspoken fear washed over him. “What do you want us to do?”
“I’m going to ask you and your wife to …”
“Look!” Irma cried out loud enough to be heard above the hum of voices as she squeezed Pam’s hand. “Do you see what I see?” Everyone turned toward the direction she was pointing.
Briana gasped as she recognized the tall man carrying a blond little girl wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans. He was hurrying down the hill. For just a moment, with his head backlit from a glowing streetlamp, Briana could imagine Slade carrying someone else’s child out of a burning building, rescuing, helping. She felt he must have d
one just that countless times, yet he’d walked away from his profession. The thought didn’t sit well with her.
“Annie!” Pam screamed, getting clumsily to her feet as her husband rushed to her side. Together, they hurried to meet Slade.
He handed the child over to Chris, then stepped aside so Pam could embrace her daughter, too. For a moment, he stood watching the small family sob with relief. Then he turned and walked toward Briana, who quickly put her arms around him, her damp face burrowing into his shoulder.
“Thank God you found her,” Briana whispered.
He’d found her crouched behind a big old evergreen on a side street four short blocks from the pet store. In her arms, she’d been cradling a calico cat, a stray she’d spotted while her parents had been occupied, one she’d mistaken for Rascal. So of course, she’d had to go after her. By the time she’d caught the kitten, Annie had gotten confused and lost. She’d heard people walking by and calling her name, but they were all strangers and she’d been afraid. It wasn’t until Slade showed up that she recognized someone and crept out.
“Dumb luck, Briana, that’s all,” he told her after finishing the story. “A stroke of dumb luck that she recognized me in the dark.”
“We’ll take it,” Briana answered, watching the Reed family.
“Mommy, I’m sorry. I thought the kitten was Rascal and …”
Pam hugged her daughter tighter. “It’s all right, honey. Everything’s all right now.”
Several people hovered around, offering their good wishes. Quite a few stopped to slap Slade on the back and congratulate him on a job well done. Still, it wasn’t enough to make up for the other time, he knew. Nothing he did would ever be enough.
Finally, he took Briana’s hand and pulled her aside. “Let’s get out of here.” He’d had enough. This was not a scene he enjoyed, despite the relief and happy ending. He didn’t want credit. He wanted to erase the memory of another time, another child.
“I have to find Irma.”
“All right, but then let’s go.”
Briana located Irma, but the older woman decided she wanted to stay and chat with a friend who’d drive her home later. She hurried back to Slade, then followed him to where he’d parked the truck, barely able to keep up with his long strides. Finally seated, she huffed out a jagged breath. “What’s your rush, fella? You’re a hero now, you know.”
