He reached her apartment door. Damn, he missed that smile. He missed everything about her. The press of her naked body against his. Kissing her, holding her, loving her. He shoved the memories he’d been clinging to aside. Their marriage shouldn’t have to end. They were stronger than that, and after knowing and loving her for nearly seventeen years, he couldn’t picture not having her in his life. But he had no choice. Self-preservation demanded that he give up the fight and let her go before they ended up hating each other.
With that last thought in mind, he knocked on her door. After giving her a few minutes to answer, he called her cell. Before he broke into her apartment, he wanted to make sure she was indeed MIA. Otherwise she’d probably raise holy hell for invading her space uninvited. Since she’d never asked him inside before, he suspected there were things she didn’t want him to know about. Like how much her search for their daughter had escalated into a full-blown obsession.
When she didn’t answer his call, he opened up his lock pick kit and went to work. Twenty years ago, he’d never thought he’d be adept at picking a lock. Who knew it would take working as a criminal investigator to master breaking and entering.
The lock gave. He pocketed his tools, then turned the knob. His stomach tightened again. If Jessica was keeping secrets, now was his chance to discover them.
He inched his way into the small apartment, then froze. “Is that thing loaded?” he asked Jessica and eyed the .38 Special she pointed at his head.
She lowered the weapon. “You scared the hell out of me. What would you do if someone was breaking into your house?”
“Then why didn’t you answer the damned door?”
“The same reason I didn’t answer my phone. I’m not taking calls or visitors today. Thank you very much.”
“Because?”
“I’m busy.”
“And you didn’t think you should, at the least, give your partner a heads up that you weren’t going into work?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “I told you I was busy. Calling Alex slipped my mind.”
Bullshit. “Even after he called you and then came to your apartment. Why didn’t you just answer the phone or the door? And don’t give me the I was too busy crap.”
“I was.”
“No. You’re rude and inconsiderate.”
She narrowed her eyes and, after setting the gun on their old card table, which she was clearly using as both a desk and dining room table, she moved for the door. “Get out,” she said. “If that wasn’t rude enough for you, I’m sure I can spice it up a bit.”
Damn, the woman had a mouth on her. A sexy mouth that could make him forget anything else existed when she smiled or kissed him. Or when she’d take his hard length and—
He crossed his arms. “No need to go there. I already know you have a potty mouth.”
“Glad you’re aware. Now leave.”
“No.”
“Dante, I’m warning you—”
“Are you going to call the cops on me? Oh, wait. You are a cop, who happened to blow off work because…?” He glanced around the small, one bedroom apartment. The layout wasn’t exactly open concept, but the living room and dining room opened up to each other, giving him a clear view of the walls, which were covered with several bulletin boards and tons of newspaper clippings. A printer and scanner sat on overturned plastic milk crates in the living room. She had thick binders and folders all over the apartment, and her laptop glowed from the card table. “That’s right. Because you were too busy running your own investigation.”
She shoved away from the door and hurried to the card table. “What I do is none of your concern.” She closed the laptop. “While you’re here, why don’t we take care of what we discussed last night,” she said, moving into what he assumed was the kitchen.
When she left the room, he stepped toward the dining room’s main wall and scanned the newspaper clippings. Parents Seek Missing Child. Identity of Child Still a Mystery. Missing Girl Found Dead; Police Search for Others. Hunt for Missing Boy Continues. Mother of Missing Girl Waits for Answers. His stomach turned as he glanced away from the yellowing clippings and looked at the dozens of Amber Alert and missing children posters coating the plaster like wallpaper. He’d expected Jessica to have info on his daughter’s case, not other parents’ missing kids, and realized her obsession might have taken a different direction. If he was correct, Jessica wasn’t just looking for Sophia, she’d become a crusader, trying to find as many kids as possible.
He hoped he was right. He’d rather see her put her investigation skills to use on these other cases, than only focusing on one. Sophia. When his daughter’s image came to mind, he quickly dispelled it. Unlike Jessica, he refused to dwell on Sophia’s fate. At first, he had. He’d considered all the bad things that could have happened to his little girl until it had consumed him. She’d been all he could think about and he’d spent the first year of her disappearance going through the motions. Other than Jessica, who’d barely communicated with him, he’d spoken to very few people. He’d worked, but his head hadn’t been on his cases. His wake-up call had been when he’d screwed up one of his investigations. The woman who had hired CORE, and had depended on him to help stop the man who’d been stalking her, had ended up hospitalized after her stalker had nearly beaten her to death. When that had happened, he knew he had to pull his shit together.
He’d realized how emotionally and physically unhealthy it had been to allow his fears and grief to consume him. The anger bottled inside him, the overwhelming sadness that ate at his soul, wouldn’t bring Sophia back to him. While he wanted more than anything to have his child back in his life, he was pragmatic enough to know that, statistically, the chance of that happening was about as good as him winning the Lottery.
“Here,” Jessica said, entering the dining room and shoving a stack of papers at him. “I signed the divorce papers. Now that you have what you wanted, you can leave.”
He glanced at the papers, his skin crawling at the sight of them. “Throw them away. They’re worthless.”
“Excuse me?”
“After you left, I did some research. Illinois is a no-fault state.”
She tossed the papers on the card table and folded her arms across her chest. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, after the first two years since you started this, all I needed to do was submit a document to the Court and request a Final Decree on the divorce. Since I didn’t know I could do that, and since it’s been over three years, the Court will dismiss our case as inactive. Now one of us has to re-file.”
He’d expected anger, but swore she looked relieved. His chest filled with hope. For years she’d dragged her feet and had avoided finalizing their divorce. Last night, when he’d crowded her against the kitchen counter and brought up whether or not she still loved him, her eyes had filled with tears and her face had crumpled in agony. Yet she’d said nothing. She hadn’t told him she loved him, but she also hadn’t said she wanted the divorce finalized. Instead, she’d tried to turn his words against him, to the point where he had been the one demanding a divorce he hadn’t wanted. Now they were still legally stuck together unless one of them made the move to re-file. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. Call him a fool or a glutton for punishment, he no longer cared. He was still in love with his wife.
“Re-file,” she echoed, and looked to the messy card table. “Are you going to take care of it?”
“No.”
She drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Well, I would if I had the time. But I’m—”
“Too busy.”
“Right.”
Wrong. She was stalling and avoiding, and he was good with that. If he could make her understand that he shared her hurt and grief, that they could lessen each other’s suffering by being together and working through the pain of their loss, there might be hope for them. He’d been in love with her for seventeen years, and that wasn’t something he could let go of without a fight. Rather than cra
ck through her barriers with an argument like they’d had last night, he’d fight for his wife in a different way. He looked to the newspaper clippings and missing children posters, and knew exactly how he’d begin his battle.
“What are you working on that’s keeping you so busy?”
“Shouldn’t you leave and go back to work?” she asked instead.
“Lola’s taking care of our current investigation.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Damn it, Jessica. Just tell me what you’re up to.”
Her eyes widened and she drew in a shaky breath. “Fine. Then you’ll leave, right?”
“Sure,” he lied. He didn’t know what he’d do. After finally seeing the inside of her apartment, his curiosity had been piqued.
“Do you remember the program Rachel created for me?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation. He’d been pissed off about it. Rachel had just started working for CORE and hadn’t known him or Jessica well. She’d had no way of knowing that creating this program only added fuel to the fire, giving Jessica another way to keep up with her obsession.
She sent him a smug smile. “Thanks to the program, I have a serial kidnapper to find.” She shrugged. “Now that you know, you can leave.”
Her case intrigued him. What drove someone to take not one, but multiple children? What was there motivation? Their history? And how could he stop them?
What fascinated him even more was his wife. She hadn’t showed any signs of disappointment when he’d told her they would remain legally married until one of them re-filed for divorce. She hadn’t even jumped at the chance to take the initiative and put an end to their marriage once and for all. He’d take that as a good sign, that maybe she wasn’t ready for them to part ways in every sense. She’d also been hiding a side of herself from him, obviously using her skills as a detective to help other parents who had their children stolen from them. He could think of healthier ways to cope with their daughter’s disappearance, but also saw an opportunity here. Maybe if he joined in on her investigation, which would force them to spend time together, he could find a way to bring Jessica home.
In a split second, he pictured them in their home, talking, laughing and later making love like they used to. Those memories, those special moments hadn’t faded and he doubted they ever would. She owned too much of his heart and soul. Although he’d rather romance her, he’d use hunting a serial kidnapper to help save their marriage.
He grabbed a folding chair and set it next to the one in front of the laptop.
“I told you to leave.”
“I know,” he said, opening her laptop.
“Then why are you still here?”
I want my wife back.
Chapter 4
“I WANT YOU to tell me more about this case.” Dante settled his big body in the folding chair, and tapped the empty chair next to his. “Sit. Show me Rachel’s program.”
Jessica momentarily closed her eyes and wished she hadn’t opened her big mouth. She didn’t want him here. Her crappy apartment was one place that didn’t remind her of Dante. She didn’t want the scent of him lingering behind and making her ache for something she couldn’t have. Well, she probably could have sex with him, but she needed more than that. She longed to have him hold her, make her forget and, at the same time, give her strength, give her a reason to wake up in the morning. Greeting the day had become harder and harder. Between her job as a homicide detective and her side investigations into the disappearances of children, she’d surrounded herself with darkness. There was no longer a bright light, no longer anything to look forward to, only death and the understanding that happiness was a gift that should be embraced and not taken for granted.
“I might be a bitch, but I’m not a dog,” she said, not bothering to hide her irritation. He had no right to insinuate himself in her business. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t give me commands.”
He grinned and a teasing glint brightened his dark eyes. “I’m going to refrain from commenting.” He thumbed toward the vacant folding chair. “Would you please sit next to me and show me how Rachel’s program works?”
Because she was rather proud of what she’d discovered, and because she could use an extra set of eyes to review what she’d found, she took a seat, pulled the laptop closer and typed in a command. Plus, between Dante’s ability to track and hunt, along with CORE’s resources, he might even help her find a way to catch this serial kidnapper.
“Rachel’s program grabs data from a number of private and government agencies.” She began scrolling through the information on the screen to show him the various agencies. “National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, Operation Lookout, Child Watch. Plus, I’ll get alerts from the U.S. Department of Defense, the FBI, Homeland Security and hundreds of state and locals law enforcement.”
“That’s… Hell, Jessica, you could spend every waking hour going through all of this. Tens of thousands of kids go missing every year.”
Didn’t she know? “It’s worth it to me, and to the parents I’ve helped.”
“You’ve found missing kids? That’s…I had no idea. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks,” she said, sadness settling in her heart. “Unfortunately, those kids were found deceased.”
“But at least the families have an answer, even if it wasn’t the one they were hoping for.”
Bringing closure to those families had been rewarding, but short-lived. Finding the kids only to discover they’d been murdered had been heartbreaking, and had muddied her hopes of ever locating her daughter.
Don’t go there.
“Anyway, you’re right. I could spend hours going through the massive number of missing children, but Rachel has the program set so that the alerts I receive are for a certain age range—infant to age seven. I wish I had the time to look into every case I come across, but I’m specifically looking for cases that have similarities to ours.”
“Sophia’s, or the serial kidnapper?”
She stared at the screen. “You know exactly what case I’m referring to.” Dante had been right last night. She couldn’t say their daughter’s name, she couldn’t even think it. He had no problem. For him, remembering their child and the joy she’d brought them was his way of celebrating the time they’d had with her, a way of keeping her memory alive. For her, remembering her, acknowledging her by name reminded her of everything they’d lost. Their daughter and their marriage.
Although at this point they were, and would remain, married until one of them did something about it. She wouldn’t. She could and she should, but she wouldn’t. She’d been the one to file the first time around, and it had messed with her head and her heart. She didn’t want to make that decision again and go through the range of emotions that had left her living in hell for months afterward. Besides, she was too busy.
Refocusing, she said, “The cases that interested me the most were ones that had to do with missing infants, as well as the children who were found. Especially kids thought to be around six or seven.” Her daughter would have turned seven two weeks ago. She immediately pictured the party she would have thrown, but quickly shook the image from her mind. “I’m interested in infants, because I was hoping to find a pattern that matched our case.” She glanced at him. “And you know what I’m talking about, so quit giving me a hard time. My .38 is within arm’s reach.”
He cracked a smile. “Noted.”
“Good. Okay, so last night after our stimulating conversation I came home and checked the program.” She took a manila folder off the card table and handed it to him. “I came across this about a year after I started using it. A little boy, around two-and-a-half, was found outside of a fire station in New Brunswick, New Jersey. He was healthy and someone had obviously taken good care of him.”
He opened the folder. “Is this him?”
She looked over his shoulder and stared at the picture of a cute, blond haired, blue-eyed toddler
. “No. That’s a different boy. He was found three years earlier. Before I get into his case, let me finish. So this boy found outside the fire station was strapped in an umbrella stroller, drinking from a sippy cup. When the New Brunswick detectives were called to the fire station, the boy was already inside chatting up a storm with the firemen and all excited about their fire trucks. While the kid was busy checking out the trucks, the detectives asked him his name.”
“Would a two-year-old know his own name?”
She rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you read any of the parenting books I gave you? Never mind. Yes, he would know his name. But some kids’ speech development is slower than others.” She pointed to the folder he held. “This particular boy wasn’t on the slow end and knew his name was Elton.”
“Elton? That’s different, but helpful. Were they able to locate the parents?”
She nodded. “Eventually, only his real name was Max, not Elton. And Max had gone missing when he was six months old.”
He leafed through the papers stacked in the file. “And this other kid?” he asked, pulling out a photo copy of another blond haired, blue-eyed toddler.
“Including Max, there’re actually three cases. Each boy was found in an umbrella stroller outside of a place where they’d be quickly discovered. All of them fitting the same description, and all but two called themselves by the same name.”
He met her gaze. “Elton?”
“Right. I found this boy last night.” She motioned to the laptop. “I think he’s connected to the other three.”
When he scooted closer to her, she caught a faint hint of his earthy cologne. As he silently read the Attempt to Identify bulletin, she did, too.
Lamoni, Iowa police were called to Graceland University, 9:47 PM Central Daylight Saving Time, when students reported a male toddler outside of a residence hall. Authorities haven’t been able to ID the boy and his parents remain unknown. He is currently with Child Services. The estimated age of the boy is 2 to 3 years. Description: blond, blue eyes, found wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, Thomas the Train t-shirt, jeans and yellow and blue Garanimals sneakers. When discovered, the boy was in a Roll-Baby brand umbrella stroller and holding a Playtex purple and orange sippy cup. The boy talks, but cannot identify his parents. He claims his name is—
Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 8
