by Wanda Dyson
JJ leaned back, making the old metal chair squeak in protest. “I just don’t know. At times when I listened to Karen Matthews, I could believe everything she was saying, and other times. . .well, my instincts were screaming that they know where that kid is.”
“Harris isn’t buying that.”
“Nope. He thinks it’s related to the other kidnapping.”
“We have no sign of forced entry.” Matt straddled a chair and stretched out his long legs. “No muddy tracks on the nursery carpet, and the parents swear they never heard a thing.”
JJ scratched the side of his head. “But there are tracks in the backyard going right up to the nursery window. It was raining, and there was mud under that window. If the perp had come through that window, why aren’t there any tracks on the carpet?”
Matt shrugged. “Unless he took his shoes off.”
JJ tilted his head, pondering. “Maybe, but it doesn’t feel right. You’re about to break into a house and steal a baby—are you going to take the time to take off your shoes and then have to struggle to get back into them with a baby in your arms? What if the child wakes up and starts to cry? Are you going to risk running and leaving your shoes for the police? I don’t think so.”
Matt played out the scenario in his mind.
When JJ looked over at Matt, Matt was peering through the door of the office.
“Isn’t that Mrs. Sarentino?” he asked.
JJ nodded. “Sure is.” He eyed the petite twenty-five-year-old woman with a heavy heart. Her brown hair was barely combed and pulled back in a clip. Her light brown eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy. Her shoulders were slumped, and it wasn’t because of the chubby little cherub perched on her hip. This woman was suffering, and there was little JJ could do about it.
Opening the door, JJ filled the doorway. She caught sight of him. “Detective?”
He backed up, swinging his hand in a wide sweeping motion to invite her in. Matt stood up and perched on the corner of JJ’s desk so that Annamarie Sarentino could use the chair.
JJ shut the door behind them. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Sarentino?”
She gazed up at him, hopeful. “I was. . .have you heard anything at all?”
“I’m sorry, no. We’re doing everything we can, but we have nothing to tell you yet.” JJ wished he could give her a different answer. “Have you talked to your ex-husband?”
She nodded slowly as the tears streaked down her cheeks, and she shifted the baby in her lap. “He called me last night.”
“Is he coming out here to help you?”
“He’s been here. He flew in with his new wife the day after Gina. . .” She stifled a sob. “He said he’s been in touch with the mayor, who assured him that you’re doing everything you can. But I needed to come ask you myself.” She lifted her face to his. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”
“You’re not, Mrs. Sarentino. I’m just concerned about you. Isn’t there anyone who can be with you right now? You shouldn’t be going through this alone.” JJ slowly eased down into his chair.
Annamarie shook her head. “I don’t have any family close, and they can’t afford to take off from work and fly out here or anything. I’ll be okay.”
The tears started flowing again. She sniffled and pressed a tissue to her nose while she looked around. When she spotted Jessica’s picture on the wall, she stiffened.
“Is she. . .the other one?”
JJ glanced up. “The other missing child? Yes.”
“Such a sweet-looking baby. The parents must be devastated.”
He didn’t bother to comment. What could he say? This woman was as different from Karen Matthews as beef was from chicken. Karen Matthews wasn’t devastated. She was only pretending to be. Mrs. Sarentino, on the other hand, was struggling to cope with a recent divorce from her childhood sweetheart, a toddler, and now the disappearance of her six-year-old daughter. This woman broke his heart.
“I’m going to do everything I can, Mrs. Sarentino. I promise you that.”
She nodded slowly and wearily climbed to her feet. “I know, Detective. And I appreciate everything you’ve done. I just miss my little girl, and I can’t help wondering what. . .”
“Don’t,” JJ interjected quickly. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
“It’s been nine days. And each day that goes by. . .”
“I know. But we’ll find her. We won’t leave a single stone unturned.”
“I just never should have let her go out to play. I just didn’t think something could happen right there on our own street.” The baby whimpered and she tucked his head under her chin, reassuring him. “You’ll call me if you find out anything?”
“I will. Immediately.”
#
Stunned and dazed, Karen wandered from room to room picking up one thing and placing it somewhere else, oblivious to what she was doing. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She couldn’t hold a coherent thought for more than a few seconds before it was gone. Maybe Ted was right. Maybe she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe she had. . .
No. She couldn’t have hurt Jess. Surely she’d remember that if she had. She couldn’t be capable of such a thing. She just couldn’t be. She loved her baby.
But Detective Johnson had made it perfectly clear that he had two suspects. She and Ted. That was it. He wasn’t even considering the possibility that someone else had done this. He was going to be watching their every move. And in the meantime, the real culprit was taking Jessie farther and farther away.
Why me, God? What did I do to deserve this?
Choking back a sob, Karen made her way across the kitchen, her hand clutching at the counter. That simple act kept her from falling flat across the sun-washed floor in hysteria.
She felt invisible. Except for the eyes of Detective Johnson boring down the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure she would ever feel free of his anger and his conviction. And he had convicted her. She’d been weighed and judged, declared guilty. End of story. Case closed.
Suddenly a familiar sound penetrated the misery. The phone was ringing. She nearly ran to it. Hoping. Maybe.
“Hello?”
“Karen? Why didn’t you call me? I just heard the news!”
“Ray.” Karen didn’t know whether or not she was glad to hear her brother’s voice. They had never been particularly close, and the rift between them had only widened after she married Ted.
“Are you okay?”
“No. My daughter is missing, Ray, and the police think I did it. I don’t know what to do.”
“Call a lawyer! Hasn’t Ted done that already, or is he still running around believing he can handle everything by himself?”
Karen flinched at the sarcasm—and the truth buried in the midst of it. “No, he hasn’t hired a lawyer. I don’t think he realizes that the police suspect us.”
“Look, Karen. It’s common police procedure to look at the parents first. They’ll clear you. And in the meantime, they’ll still be looking for other suspects. They’ll find Jessica.”
Karen swiped at the tears that were marring her vision again.
“Karen?”
“I’m here.” She could hear a faint clicking in the background and could almost see her older brother tapping his desk with his pen, a habit he’d never lost. He was always tapping. The table, his books, countertops, steering wheels. It had driven their father nuts. One of her strongest childhood memories was of him yelling at Ray to “stop that infernal tapping.”
A faint smile curled at her pale lips as she pulled out a kitchen chair and dropped into it. “Stop that infernal tapping.”
There was a quick burst of laughter from Ray. “You never change.”
Karen’s smile faded quickly. That was something her father said about her. And it wasn’t a compliment. “No. I guess I don’t.”
“Hey, Karen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way the old man does. I like you the way you are.”
“Naive and helpless?”
“Naive, maybe. Helpless? Only because Ted makes you think you are.”
The tapping started again and she realized he was getting upset thinking about Ted. “Will you come, Ray?”
The pause. The silence. It told her the truth before his words did. “You know I can’t, Karen. I’d more than likely punch the guy in the mouth before I was there five minutes. I’m here for you. You need to talk, call me. But don’t ask me to come.”
The disappointment was keen but manageable. It wasn’t as if he’d ever said yes when she’d asked for his help. He’d never been there for her, and it was time for her to stop asking him to be or expecting him to be. He had his own life in Richmond. A good job with a software firm. A pretty, intelligent wife who was a professor at the university. Two perfect little girls who were in ballet and took piano lessons.
The tapping stopped. “Karen, I have to go. Keep me informed, please? I do care.”
Right. “Okay, Ray. Tell the family I said hello.”
“I will. We’ll be praying for you.”
Praying? She hung up the phone. Since when? Her brother had never been one for church and all its rules and regulations. Forced to attend church from the time they were born, Ray had rebelled as soon as he could and never looked back. Only Karen had maintained the tradition of church every Sunday morning.
Karen leaned back against the counter and slowly collapsed to the floor. She didn’t know how to handle this. She needed someone to tell her what to do.
She needed someone to tell her that God intended to bring her baby back to her.
#
“There is a God in heaven.” Matt whistled softly. “Tell me she’s guilty of something. Puh. . .leez, let me interrogate her.”
JJ looked up and out the small window of his office to see what it was that had Matt primping like a schoolboy just before the prom.
She was tall and slim, with a willowy softness that seemed to make her float as she wove her way through the desks in the bullpen. Her hair was long, blond, curly—a wild halo of gold. JJ came to his feet as he realized that she was heading straight for his office. He combed his fingers through his hair and then straightened his tie. “Matt, don’t you have something you need to be doing?”
“Not a chance,” Matt replied, never taking his eyes off the golden image that stopped outside the office door and lifted a delicate hand to knock. He stepped over and pulled open the door. “Detective Matt Casto. May I help you?”
The smile that crossed her face was soft, whispery, fleeting. “I’m looking for Detective Johnson.”
“My loss.” Matt’s voice was husky with regret.
“I’m Detective Johnson.” JJ stepped out from behind the desk and extended his hand. “What can I do for you?”
She turned dark green eyes on him—studying him. He could feel her probing into places he didn’t want anyone to go. It sent a shiver up his spine, and the fires of latent anticipation cooled. And then he knew.
He dropped his hand before she could take it and stepped back. “You must be Zoe Shefford.”
The smile on her face was filled with amusement. And approval. He wasn’t sure which pleased him more, and it aggravated him that it mattered.
She wasn’t at all what he’d expected. There was no flash; just fluid motion. No bangles and beads and dark whispers; just long, lean lines of gold and green, pink and yellow. And that aggravated him as well.
She flipped back her gold hair and flashed those green eyes in a move that was as artless as it was enticing. “I know I’m a little early. I hope you don’t mind.”
Matt stepped over in the range of sight, pulling her attention away from JJ. “It’s quite all right. Please, have a seat.”
She eyed the chair and then sat down, her flowery skirt floating down around her legs as she crossed them. “As I said on the phone, I’m glad to do what I can, but I can never guarantee anything.”
It seemed as if her attention was pulled—no, dragged—from the two men to the pictures on the wall. She set her purse on the floor and stood up, walking over slowly.
JJ watched her with skeptical interest.
Zoe studied each picture, taking her time moving from child to child. She reached out and let her fingertips trace the first picture, closing her eyes.
“Gina,” she whispered softly.
JJ folded his arms across his chest. “Anyone could know that. Her name and picture were in the paper.”
Matt flashed him an impatient look.
Zoe didn’t seem to hear JJ, or if she did, she didn’t care. “She’s skipping, happy. She was somewhere that pleased her. She doesn’t see the danger coming. Unaware. It sneaks out and snaps her up.” Suddenly Zoe yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned. “I’m sorry.” The whisper was low, husky, filled with pain.
Visibly shaken, Zoe reached out and touched the second photograph. “This is different.”
She shook her head as if to clear it and then turned to JJ. “Gina was taken by a man, but not the baby. I see a man and a woman, but I can’t see their faces. It’s too shadowy, but she’s not like Gina. I can tell you that much.”
She echoed enough of what had been moving in his own heart to make him put the walls down for a moment. He took a step closer. “Is she alive?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
“What do you need?”
“To touch something of hers. Can we go to the parents’ home? I need to see her room, touch her things. Maybe then.” She looked back over at the pictures. “For Gina, too.”
JJ noticed how her last words seemed to be pulled out of her. There was reluctance, hesitation. He wondered at it.
Matt flashed her a bright, sexy smile. “That was incredible!”
She tilted her head, looking at him with an amused smile. “Silly man, do you really think she’ll wait forever? If you care at all, and you do, you’d better do something about it. Someone else is already trying to draw her attention away from you.”
JJ watched in amusement as Matt’s color paled. “I. . .I don’t know what you mean.”
Zoe reached down and picked up her purse. “Yes, you do. All the others—they may soothe your ego, but she soothes your soul. That will always be more important. You won’t find another like her.”
Matt stepped back away from her, suddenly jamming his fists into his pockets as if he were afraid she might touch him and expose his soul to the world.
JJ just smiled.
Zoe tucked her purse under her arm and turned her attention to JJ. “When will you be ready to start?”
JJ felt the question echo in his mind as if it somehow had more than one meaning, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why. “Let me call Mrs. Matthews. If she’s home, we can ride over now.”
Zoe nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”
Matt waited until she was gone to drop into the chair. “How did she do that?”
JJ picked up the phone, making a face. “You don’t really buy that act, do you? She could have heard someone out there talking about you and Paula.”
“You don’t believe she’s a psychic?”
“I don’t believe in psychics.”
Matt pointed to the pictures. “But she saw things.”
“Did she? Or did she just want us to think she did?” He flipped open the Matthews file and dialed the number. “Think about what she said, Matt. Gina is hurt, terrified, scared. Wow, what a revelation that was. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself.”
“But you heard what she said about the Matthews kid!”
“I have to give the lady a shot. But trust me, if anything solves this case, it’s going to be old-fashioned police work.”
JJ lifted his head. “Yes, Mrs. Matthews? This is Detective Johnson. I need to come by for a few minutes.”
chapter 5
Wednesday, April 12
Zoe stepped out of JJ’s office and pulled the door closed behind her. The quiet in her mind
was shattered. But it had been shattered before she heard the office clatter of phones ringing, computer keyboards tapping, people talking, a woman screeching, a man arguing, and a chair scraping across the tile floor. She took a deep breath.
The children. It always tore her up. So why did she do this to herself? Because she had to? Because she had been destined for this? Because she had the gift and had to use it? Each time she looked at one of the faces, touched their pictures, felt their terror, she would remember the one she hadn’t been able to save. The most important one. And the pain would engulf her, draining her.
Experience had taught her when to focus and when to forget. Even for a little while. She shifted her thoughts to the two detectives. Matt had been easy to read. Smiling, she recalled his expression when she mentioned his relationship with his girlfriend. He was a harmless flirt, but it would cost him the love of his life if he didn’t rein it in.
But the other. Johnson. Handsome wasn’t a word she would use to describe him. His eyes were green, but they were the color of washed-out glass. His black hair was wavy but too thick to tame. He was tall—maybe a shade over six feet—with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, but the effect made him look like a brawler. His lips were full, but his mouth was hard and his nose too wide and slightly crooked. He was the kind of man who wanted to look intimidating. Forbidding. He enjoyed it, too, and that wasn’t the least bit attractive.
There was something compelling about him though. Intense. He would be noticed in a crowd but considered somewhat unapproachable. Yet something simmered just below the surface—secrets and shadows and whispers. She was intrigued, and that was something she did find attractive.
Zoe barely heard the door open behind her but felt his touch—fleeting, reluctant. His fingertips grazed her elbow and were gone. And in that moment, she felt something shoot through her that was so unfamiliar, so foreign, she could only blink as everything in her stilled.
“Ready, Miss Shefford?”
They walked in silence, his wide stride eating up the distance. He didn’t open the car door for her, and she wasn’t sure she was expecting it. As he pulled the car out of the lot, she stared out the window.
