by Debra Webb
Melissa frowned. “Where’re we going?”
“I noticed a cemetery on the way to Bruce’s house.” Jonathan pulled the car under a massive shade tree that held court over the small parking area that flanked the oldest cemetery in town. “We should have some privacy here.”
“Can we walk?” Anxiety and fear were crushing in on her. She didn’t wait for his answer. She got out of the car and dragged in a chest full of air. Polly was missing. Possibly dead. Emotion burned Melissa’s eyes. It wasn’t fair, damn it! She and William had lost their father and their mother. She shot a look at Jonathan as he came around to her side of the car. He’d broken her heart. And now the biggest bright spot in her life was gone. It just wasn’t fair!
“I know this is difficult,” Jonathan said, his voice soft and understanding.
She didn’t want to hear that softness. She wanted him to be strong and do what no one else had—find Polly.
He moved closer and Melissa wanted to back away. She couldn’t trust herself with him, not even after all this time. But his eyes—those pale blue eyes she’d dreamed of for so damned long—held her still.
“The police have found nothing. No one is talking.” As he spoke his fingers curled around her arms, making her shiver in spite of her determination not to let him see how he affected her. He pressed her with that penetrating gaze. “But I know, just as you do, that someone knows the truth. If we rattle the right cages, that someone will get nervous and make a mistake.”
She wanted to fall against him, have those strong arms hold her and those inviting lips promise her that this would be okay. That Polly would be okay. “It can’t be Presley. She wouldn’t…”
“It’s hard. Putting that harsh glare of suspicion on the people you love.” He moved closer still, so close she could smell his skin. “But this is the fastest way to get a reaction. There’s no time to waste. Too much time has passed as it is.”
He was right. A moan rose in Melissa’s throat. She had seen the glances exchanged between the policemen working the search. She knew what they thought. Hope was fading.
Melissa couldn’t help herself. She fell against Jonathan’s chest. His arms went around her and she shuddered with the overwhelming emotions.
“We’ll find her,” he promised, his lips whispering against her ear. “I won’t stop until I do.”
Melissa didn’t know how he could make such a promise, but somehow she trusted him to be true to his word.
Though she had every reason not to, Melissa believed in Jonathan and the promise he’d just made. He might not be able to commit to a relationship, but she knew enough about his past and his work to know that he would find a way to get the job done. That was the one thing he never failed to do—his job.
She tried to pull herself together, telling herself that as a nurse she faced sickness and death every day at the hospital.
She braced her hands against his chest, resisted the urge to curl her fingers into his shirt and pushed away. She drew in a breath and met his gaze. “What do we do next?” Polly was counting on her. William and Presley were counting on her. Melissa had to be stronger than she’d ever been before. For them.
“The one other person who hasn’t been in his or her place since Polly’s disappearance is Stevie Price.” Jonathan dropped his hands to his sides. “We’re going to find out where he really is and what he’s up to.”
“The chief said he went to Nashville.” In truth, she would be the first one to say that she wouldn’t have thought Stevie brave enough to attempt to follow that distant dream he’d carried around with him for as long as she could remember. Stevie was only a year older than her. They’d played together as kids, and her family had pretty much taken him in after his folks were gone. He had a good heart, but he just didn’t have the mental capacity to pull this off.
Still, she recognized that it wasn’t completely impossible.
“The chief could be right,” Jonathan acknowledged. “That’s what we’re going to determine.”
She nodded. “Okay. I know Stevie better than most. Where do we start?”
The crunch of tires on gravel drew Melissa’s gaze to the entrance of the cemetery. Will’s truck came to a screeching halt next to her car.
Her heart rammed hard against her sternum. Was there news?
Will got out, slammed the truck door hard then stormed in their direction.
The grief she would have seen in his face if there was bad news was absent. Instead, what emanated from his expression and his stiff movements was white hot fury.
William was mad as hell and ready to fight.
Chapter Six
“She’s off limits.”
Jonathan kept quiet as Melissa and her brother argued. The pain on her face made Jonathan want to step in and defend her position, but it wasn’t his place.
Not anymore.
This was a family matter and he hadn’t been anything to Melissa except a bad memory in a very long time.
“I’m not accusing Presley,” Melissa repeated, her exasperation showing at this point. She reached out to her brother, but he avoided her touch. The hurt his move generated played out on her face. “You have to see that there’s something about that night she’s not telling.”
William leaned in closer to Melissa, a new blast of fury darkening his face. Jonathan stepped forward. “This isn’t going to help us find your daughter.”
William glared at Jonathan, his mouth twisted with rage. “You…” He dragged in a shaky breath. “I appreciate what you did for me, Major, but this is none of your business. Upsetting Presley was bad enough, but going to Johnny Ray was crossing the line. How do you think that made her feel? She can’t take much more.”
Jonathan couldn’t deny that charge. “You’re running on empty, Shepherd.” He kept his tone calm and even despite the impatience charging through him. “Fear and frustration are preventing you from seeing the logic in Melissa’s words.” William started to argue, but Jonathan stopped him with a shake of his head. “Trust me, I know exactly where you are. It’s a bad place to be. But alienating the people who care about you because you don’t want to see what’s right in front of your face is the wrong route to take.”
Fury still simmered in William’s eyes but he kept his mouth shut.
“I’m sorry, Will.” Melissa folded her arms over her chest and lowered her eyes. “I’m not trying to make this any harder. But I’m scared to death that Presley is hiding something that she doesn’t realize might help.” She lifted her gaze back to her brother’s. “Something that might help us find Polly before it’s too late.”
William swayed back a step. He scrubbed his face with his hands as if he could erase the misery, the confusion. “Presley didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. I’m the one who left. I should have been there. But I wasn’t and somebody took my little girl.”
Melissa pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. She was barely hanging on to her composure. “You couldn’t have known.” She wrapped her arms around her brother and held him close. “We just have to find the truth and that means asking the hard questions Chief Talbot seems to be avoiding.”
Melissa’s brother pulled free of her embrace. “Why did you talk to Johnny Ray?” The anger resurrected in Shepherd’s eyes. “What does that bastard have to do with anything?”
Melissa glanced at Jonathan. Not for moral support, he suspected. He held up his hands. “I’ll take a walk.” The two clearly needed some space.
“Johnny Ray keeps up with everybody’s business, Presley’s in particular. I think maybe he’s still stinging that you got the girl he always thought would be his,” Melissa was explaining as Jonathan walked away.
Keeping the two in sight, Jonathan moved along the path that skirted the garden of headstones. He needed to clear his head and analyze the meeting with Johnny Ray. The guy had come off as nonchalant. Not quite indifferent but definitely detached. Could be that he could care less about Presley or her child. But based on what Melissa had said about th
e man’s long-running relationship with Presley, his attitude seemed a little too detached.
Jonathan’s first thought was that the two had rendezvoused while the child slept—after William Shepherd had departed the home. But there was no evidence of that scenario. Jonathan doubted that either one would admit to having left the child unattended.
There was no reason at this time to consider that Johnny Ray Bruce had anything to do with the child’s disappearance. If Polly was the only reason Presley stayed married to Shepherd that could, of course, be considered motive. Yet there was no obvious evidence to that end.
Jonathan stalled. Unless the goal was to do away with the child and then to blame the father. That would get him—as well as the child—out of the picture permanently.
An icy sensation slithered up Jonathan’s spine. He hoped like hell that wasn’t the case. But there was a ring of clarity to it that unsettled him greatly.
Still, Melissa staunchly stood by the idea that Presley loved her daughter. Was that only what Melissa wanted to see?
“Mr. Foley,” a voice whispered from behind Jonathan.
Jonathan shifted to his right, away from Melissa and Shepherd. His muscles tightened in preparation for battle.
“I need to speak to you in private, Mr. Foley.”
A man, thirty or so maybe, hovered in the trees that bordered the cemetery on three sides. He leaned to the right and peeked at the couple still debating the subject of Johnny Ray Bruce.
“What about?” It was difficult to dredge up any wariness for a man who crept around in the woods and made contact in such a manner. Particularly one who wore big glasses and a bow tie. But even more surprising was that he’d gotten so close without Jonathan noticing. Definitely not of the norm.
The man nodded toward Melissa and her brother. “Them.”
“Who are you?” The guy looked harmless enough. The glasses he wore had inordinately thick lenses. The shirt and bow tie along with the crisply creased trousers didn’t really fit with his sneaking around in the woods like this.
The man looked again to see that Melissa and Shepherd were distracted. “My name is Scott Rayburn.” He straightened, as if just saying his name out loud called for additional posturing and preening. “There’s something you need to know.”
Ensuring that Melissa and Shepherd appeared to be discussing their differences calmly, Jonathan moved toward Rayburn. “What is it you have to say?”
“You’re not from around here,” Rayburn said, seeming nervous with Jonathan’s approach. “You don’t know these people.”
“I know Melissa.” Images of her nude body entwined with his made Jonathan flinch.
Rayburn shrugged. “She’s blind to what goes on around her.”
Jonathan glanced at her, certain this man was incorrect. “I’m reasonably sure she’s not as blind as one might think.” Just caring. Forgiving. Loving. Passionate. More of those haunting memories whispered through his thoughts, making him weak. He couldn’t be weak right now. His jaw clenched. There was never a good time to be weak.
“Perhaps so,” Rayburn admitted. “But she’s standing by while the rest of her family continues to commit egregious atrocities.”
Jonathan’s gaze narrowed. What was this guy up to? “Such as?”
“Her uncle is carrying on with the chief’s wife while supposedly distraught over William’s child.”
“Chief Talbot’s wife?” Interesting but not necessarily relevant.
Rayburn nodded. “That tawdry affair has been going on for several years now.” His head moved from up and down to side to side in a maneuver that made Jonathan think of a bobble head doll. “The chief’s as blind as Melissa.”
“Does this have anything to do with Polly’s disappearance?” Didn’t sound that way to Jonathan, but information, however seemingly irrelevant, couldn’t be cast aside out of turn.
Rayburn twisted up his courage, or appeared to. “I’m just warning you that you should look into this illicit affair. There’s more going on, I believe, than meets the eye.”
Jonathan considered the warning. “How can you be certain the chief isn’t aware of his wife’s extracurricular activities?”
Rayburn covered a grin with one hand. “You really aren’t from around here. The chief is completely oblivious to his wife’s immorality, just as he is blind to that sorry nephew of his.”
Jonathan inclined his head. “Nephew?”
“Johnny Ray Bruce,” Rayburn explained. “Presley’s lover.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Do you have proof that Presley is still involved with Johnny Ray?” That the man was the chief’s nephew might explain why he wasn’t under closer scrutiny as a part of the investigation—or at least didn’t appear to be. Jonathan had obtained copies of the police reports as well as the witness reports before he’d flown down. Johnny Ray Bruce hadn’t been mentioned in any capacity.
“They’ve never stopped being involved,” Rayburn informed him with haughty condescension. “She only married poor Will because his family has a little something and he’s likely to make something of himself. Johnny Ray is as lazy as a summer day is long. He’s never going to be anything but a worthless bloodsucker.”
“Have you spoken to any of the authorities investigating this case? There are others you could tell besides the chief.”
Rayburn harrumphed. “The chief is too well known in this area. No one’s going to stand up to him, much less tell him his wife is having an affair with the man who used to be his best friend.”
Another interesting detail. “Harry Shepherd was once the chief’s best friend?”
“That’s right.” Rayburn preened, attempting to appear nonchalant as he boasted his great insights. “Played high school football together right here in Bay Minette. Went off to college together. Where you saw one, you saw the other.”
“What went wrong?” Again, Jonathan didn’t actually see the relevance, but the more information he commanded, the better his ability to analyze.
“Harry’s brother, William senior, wanted to serve his country. Harry objected. The chief argued that William senior had a right to follow his own calling. The two have scarcely spoken since.”
Melissa had told Jonathan that her father was killed in a military conflict and that her uncle had stepped in to fill his shoes. If this guy’s conclusions were correct, Shepherd held the chief’s encouragement of his brother against him. Not exactly rational but a reasonable reaction, Jonathan supposed.
“I have to go.” Rayburn backed deeper into the tree line. “The police aren’t going to look into this,” he warned. “Someone needs to.”
“What about Stevie Price?” Jonathan asked before Rayburn could creep away. “The chief said he’d taken off to Nashville. Any theories on that one?” Jonathan suspected that Price’s disappearance the same night as Polly’s was no coincidence.
“Stevie is a mentally handicapped grown man,” Rayburn said with glaring disdain. “Folks around here allow him to play with their children as if he’s one of them. But he’s not.” Rayburn pressed Jonathan with an accusation in his gaze. “I say good riddance.”
“Do you have proof that Price isn’t as harmless as most seem to think?” An uneasiness settled in Jonathan’s gut. This guy Price was an unknown variable.
Rayburn snorted. “Ask Mrs. Syler at the day care center. She’ll tell you she almost had to get a restraining order to keep him off the playground. He used to go there and play with the kids sometimes.” He shook his head. “But not anymore.”
The chief hadn’t mentioned that in his reports, and Melissa had insisted the incident was a mistake. That Stevie’s work as a volunteer was sanctioned by the day care owner. They were going to have to dig a little deeper. Melissa seemed protective of Stevie; then again, she tried to protect all those she cared about. But finding the child trumped all else.
“I have to go now.”
Jonathan glanced toward Melissa and Shepherd. As Shepherd climbed into his tr
uck and started the engine, Melissa watched, her arms folded over her chest.
Before Jonathan could ask any more questions, Rayburn disappeared into the woods.
Strange character. Jonathan walked back to where Melissa waited, watching her brother drive away.
“You okay?” Dumb question under the circumstances.
She quickly wiped her eyes. “I guess so. He wants me to back off where Presley is concerned and—” she released a heavy breath “—I can’t. She’s afraid of something. We have to know what that is.”
Understandable. Presley was the last person to see Polly before she disappeared and was supposedly in the house when she went missing. That made her the primary person of interest if not the prime suspect.
“Has Chief Talbot voiced any concerns about Presley?”
Melissa shrugged. “Not really. Until now he’s been solely focused on Stevie.”
That was the problem when bad things happened in small towns. Everyone knew everyone else. Made objectivity next to impossible.
“What about your uncle?” Jonathan asked as he ushered her toward the car. “Is there anything going on with him that we haven’t talked about?” He figured he might as well explore Rayburn’s allegations.
Melissa stopped and turned back to him, confusion cluttering her face. “What do you mean?”
This line of questioning would be more than a little sensitive. “Your uncle has never married. Is there a particular reason?” That was about the only way Jonathan could think to ask about his social life without asking outright about the rumor he’d just heard.
“I don’t know. He’s taken care of William and me since we were kids back in elementary school. I guess he never had time to focus on his own life.” Her confusion turned to suspicion. “Why would you ask that?”
He could dance around the question or he could just ask. “Are you aware that there is a rumor that he’s carried on a long-term affair with the chief’s wife?”
The suspicion morphed into dismay. “Who would say such a hurtful thing?”
“Scott Rayburn.” Jonathan wasn’t going to hide anything from Melissa. He’d done enough of that in the past. Finding her niece was too important to play games on any level.
