Lost Innocence

by Jannine Gallant

  “Can you give me a description?” Chris spoke sharply.

  “I was out of town.” Teague met Nina’s gaze. “I didn’t see her, but Keely said she was old. From the perspective of a six-year-old, that could mean anywhere from forty to eighty.”

  “What about you, Nina?” Chris took a notebook from his pocket and jotted something down. “If she was on the beach while you painted her daughter . . .”

  “I never saw her up close. She wore a scarf over her head and had her back to me, but she moved slowly, deliberately, like an older person. I’m afraid I wouldn’t recognize her if I passed her on the street. Keely did mention this woman said she knew me, but I can’t think of any acquaintance, middle-aged or older, who has a young daughter.” Nina faced the two parents staring at her with hope in their eyes. “I wish I could be more help.”

  “It seems likely she lives in Siren Cove if she’s been seen in the area several times.” Juggling the baby, Patricia Herrington gripped the officer’s arm. “Can’t you check school records or something? Even if a child is homeschooled, there must be an official document somewhere with a permanent address.”

  “I’d need a warrant to get that information, and I’m afraid a resemblance to your daughter isn’t enough to request one. Unless there’s evidence—”

  “The police failed to find anything useful three years ago.” Her voice grew shrill. “If they’d done their jobs—”

  “Calm down, hon. We aren’t going to simply walk away. If Emma is here, we’ll find her.” The man turned to Teague. “Maybe if your daughter described this woman to a sketch artist, we’d be able to get a recognizable picture from it. Surely someone local will know her.”

  The despair in his voice tugged at Nina’s heart. He and his wife were more than likely holding on to a thread of hope with no substance, but if she could give them closure, one way or the other . . .

  “I’m afraid we don’t have a sketch artist on staff,” Chris spoke quietly. “Getting one brought in—”

  “I’m pretty decent at sketching from a description. I’d certainly be willing to try, but Keely is pretty young to provide accurate details.”

  Patricia turned to Nina with tears in her eyes. “Anything that might help. I just need to know.”

  “I’ll sit down with Keely after I get home. Where can I contact you?”

  Oren handed both Nina and Chris business cards with his cell number. “We’re staying at the Oceanside Inn a couple miles south of town.”

  She slipped the card into her pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you.” When the baby started to whimper again, Patricia turned to her husband. “I need to feed Jack.”

  He nodded then faced the officer. “I hope you’ll do what you can to locate this woman and her . . . daughter. I’m sure Detective O’Roarke told you we’re not nutcases. As much as we want Emma back, I’m not looking for false hope just to be disappointed again. Losing our daughter the first time nearly killed us both.”

  “I understand, and I’ll check into this, ask around places like the park and the pool where a woman and her child might be regulars. I intend to do everything possible to give you answers.”

  “We appreciate that.”

  After they walked away with the baby crying louder with each step, Nina slumped against the counter. “How unbelievably awful. I can’t imagine what they’ve gone through.”

  Teague clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “If there’s a psycho woman living in Siren Cove who stole one child and then spoke to mine—”

  “It’s been three years since their daughter was kidnapped. The chances of finding Emma alive are pretty thin.” Chris’s gaze was sober. “I fear they will be disappointed, but I’d like to speak to the woman in question to make certain.”

  “I’ll work on a sketch.” Nina pulled a postcard print of the foggy cove from the rack and handed it to him. “I won’t give you the painting, but take this in case you need a picture of Lynette or Emma or whoever she is.”

  He took it and smiled. “Thanks. Let me know how it goes.”

  “I will.” After Chris left, she turned toward Teague when he raised his phone to his ear. “Who are you calling?”

  “Keely. I need to talk to my daughter.”

  A shiver slid through her. “I don’t blame you one bit.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Teague sat on one end of the couch while Keely and Nina occupied the other. His nerves were strung tighter than a high wire stretched between two precipices. On the near side was the life he’d carved out as a single father, full of unexpected demands and worries over his daughter. Across the deep chasm was his relationship with Nina, where love and the possibility of a future together existed. He wasn’t sure he had the wherewithal to navigate between the two. Failing his daughter wasn’t an option, but neither was giving Nina less than 100 percent.

  They still needed to hash out a solution, but at the moment, she was occupied with a drawing pad and Keely’s sketchy memory.

  “Her nose doesn’t look right.”

  “Was it broader or more aquiline?” Nina’s voice registered an extreme amount of patience, despite the fact they’d been working on the drawing for over an hour.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Sorry, thinner. Like this.”

  “No, it looked better before.” Keely tapped her foot against the coffee table. “That kind of looks like her, I guess. Can we be done now?”

  “Sure.”

  Teague opened his eyes. “It’s past your bedtime. Go get ready for bed, and I’ll be up to tuck you in shortly.” When his daughter reached out to hug Nina, his heart squeezed.

  She hugged her back. “Sleep well.”

  “Okay. Night, Nina.”

  “Good night, sweetie.”

  He sat up straighter but waited until Keely disappeared up the stairs with Coco following her to speak. “Well, that was fairly painful to listen to. How did the picture turn out?”

  When Nina held up the sketch pad, he slid across the worn leather to her side. “Hmm, looks like a cartoon drawing of Mrs. Claus.”

  Cocking her head at an angle, she nodded. “Describing facial features isn’t easy, especially for a child. I’m afraid this won’t be terribly useful.”

  “You don’t recognize her?”

  “There’s something slightly familiar about the gray hair, the only thing Keely was certain about, but it could be because she resembles someone I saw on TV recently. Let’s just say I didn’t have any aha moments while I was drawing this.”

  “That’s too bad. I’d be losing my mind if I were in the shoes of those poor people. If I suspected someone had my daughter, I’d go door to door through the whole damn town if I had to, and raise holy hell until I found her.”

  “You heard Chris. Chances are their daughter isn’t alive three years after she was taken.”

  Sorrow mixed with anger tightened his chest. “I don’t know what would be worse, having all hope crushed or never knowing what happened.”

  She reached over and gripped his thigh. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “You’re right.” Slowly he rose to his feet. “I need to tell Keely good night. Can you stay?”

  “Sure. While you’re up there, I’ll call Chris and tell him the sketch was a bust. He can break the news to the Herringtons.”

  “Okay.” Upstairs, he found Keely in her nightgown with her teeth already brushed. After tucking her into bed, he read two chapters of Charlotte’s Web, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Keels.”

  “Night, Daddy.” She yawned wide, her lids drooping. “Is Nina still here?”

  “Yeah. She’ll probably keep me company for a little while.”

  “That’s good. I like having her with us. I missed her when she wasn’t.”

  Teague smiled. “Me, too. Now go to sleep.”

  When Coco raised her head and blinked at him from the foot of the bed, he patted the dog, then flipped of
f the light. The night-light cast a faint glow over his daughter’s closed eyes as she drifted into sleep. Leaving the door open a crack, he headed back downstairs.

  Nina glanced up from her phone and laid it on the coffee table as he approached. “Is Keely asleep?”

  “Yes.” He dropped down beside her on the couch. “She missed you this week.” Reaching over, he took her hand. “So did I.”

  “I missed you, too. Both of you. Frankly, I’ve been miserable.”

  He regarded her steadily. “What can I do to fix the problem?”

  “I suppose it all boils down to trust.”

  “I trust you completely, Nina. Honestly.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I guess we both need to have a little more faith in each other and think before we react.”

  “True.” He pulled her across his lap and kissed her. With his thumb, he brushed hair off her silky soft cheek. “Are we good now? I hated knowing you were upset with me.”

  “Yeah, we’re good. I know no relationship is perfect, but I want to try to make this one work for us both.”

  “Does that mean you’ll sleep over?”

  She smiled up at him. “I could be persuaded.” Cupping his face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his and slowly deepened the kiss. “Make love, not war.”

  “Always.” With a grunt, he rose to his feet, still holding her in his arms, and headed toward the stairs.

  Nina clung to his neck. “I’m too heavy.”

  “No, you’re not.” When the phone in his back pocket vibrated, he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. “Please, not a work emergency.”

  “I can get it out for you.” When she slipped her hand into the pocket of his jeans, her fingers teased his ass.

  His legs wobbled as his whole body tightened. “Fate couldn’t be so cruel.” He glanced at the text as she held it out and pressed the display button. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

  Shifting in his grip, she slid down the length of him until her feet touched the floor. “I take it you have to leave?”

  “Yeah. It’s an all-hands alert. Usually that means a structure fire endangering nearby buildings or a multicar crash with injuries.”

  “Then you need to go.” Her eyes registered disappointment, but she released him after one final kiss. “I’ll spend the night here with Keely.”

  “Thank you.” In the entry, he grabbed a jacket off the coat tree by the door to combat the heavy fog, then ran out to his truck. By the time he reached the station, he’d settled down enough to focus on the job ahead, whatever that might be. After parking in the lot, he got out and slammed the door. With a nod to a couple of his coworkers who’d also just arrived, he waited for Mateo, and the two walked toward the building together.

  “Any idea why we got called in?”

  Teague glance over at his buddy and shrugged. “Not a clue. I guess we’ll find out when we get inside.”

  They climbed the stairs to the meeting room and found it crowded with both members of the fire crew and local cops. At the front of the room, Captain Barker stood beside a grizzled veteran of the police force.

  Teague nudged Mateo. “Who’s the police chief? I’ve seen him around town a few times.”

  “Chief Stackhouse. He’s a fixture in Siren Cove. I wonder what the hell is going on.”

  Before Teague could respond, the fire captain cleared his throat. “It looks like most everyone is here, so I’d like to get started. We have an urgent situation, and Chief Stackhouse has requested our help. I’m going to turn the briefing over to him.”

  “Listen up, people.” The chief’s deep voice boomed over the crowd. “You all may not be cops, but you’re local men and women trained not to panic if a situation turns ugly. Right now I need manpower since I simply don’t have the staff or the time to wait for reinforcements to arrive. I appreciate Captain Barker and all of you stepping up to help me out.”

  “What’s this about?” Over against the wall, Rod straightened and spoke with a tinge of impatience. “The ball game was tied in extra innings when I got paged to come down here.”

  Stackhouse eyed the fireman with lowered brows. “I was watching the same game when the governor contacted me. It appears we may have a kidnapping victim living here in town, and this little girl is the granddaughter of one of his old fraternity brothers. His friend called in a favor, and the governor is asking for our assistance.”

  “Shit,” Teague muttered under his breath.

  “If my men start asking questions around town, word will spread faster than a flu epidemic,” the chief continued. “I don’t want this woman getting wind of an investigation and hitting the road with the victim before we can find her.”

  “You believe a woman kidnapped this girl?” Mateo called out. “How long has she been missing?”

  “Three years. A lead turned up just today.” Stackhouse turned on a projector, and an image of a young blond girl flashed overhead. “This is Emma Herrington at the time she was kidnapped.” A second photo went up beside the first, the postcard print of Nina’s painting. “This picture of the cove was painted not long ago, and the parents of the missing child believe the girl in it is Emma.” He shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course there’s the strong possibility the Herringtons are just wishful thinking, but there’s also a slim chance they’re right. If that’s the case, I intend to make damn sure we do everything in our power to find their daughter.”

  “Seems easy enough to locate and question her,” Rod said. “If the artist knows the child—”

  “She doesn’t,” Chris Long interrupted. “Nina Hutton painted that picture. The girl and the woman who says she’s her mother just happened to be on the beach at the time. Unfortunately, we don’t have a description of the suspect other than the fact she’s an older woman, possibly in her sixties, and has curly gray hair.” His gaze connected with Teague’s. “We have that description from a child who spoke to her, but she couldn’t provide enough details for an accurate sketch.”

  “What exactly do you want us to do?” Teague’s stomach tightened as he waited for a response.

  “I want a door-to-door manhunt.” Stackhouse spoke decisively. “Since the woman and child have been seen in Siren Cove, we’re hopeful they live in the vicinity. I want each of you to use the picture of the girl to question household occupants. Tell them she’s in potential danger and ask if they recognize her or know where she lives. Hopefully we’ll get a few quick leads that will direct us to the suspect’s home.”

  “Sounds simple enough.” Rod leaned back against the wall. “And if we should happen on the woman and the child—”

  “Do nothing,” Stackhouse said sharply. “I can’t stress that enough, since I don’t want to create a dangerous situation for any of you or for the child. We have no knowledge as to whether this woman is armed. We have to assume she’s dangerous.”

  Mateo frowned. “So we make up an excuse for knocking, then simply walk away?”

  “Exactly. Keep watch on the house and call me or one of my men immediately. I’ll have officers at the location within minutes to take charge. If the woman tries to bolt with the child, follow at a safe distance if possible and update me on her status.”

  “And if the parents of the missing child are wrong, and the girl isn’t Emma?” Teague cleared his throat. “Are you planning to tear a child away from her mother just because the governor’s buddy is desperate to find his kidnapped granddaughter?”

  Stackhouse met his gaze head-on. “When we find her, my department will safely hold the child while we question both her and the woman. I would think proof one way or the other can be produced fairly quickly. This isn’t a witch hunt. We simply want to get answers while causing as little trauma as possible to the girl.”

  “That’s what I wanted to know.”

  The police chief scanned the crowd. “Any more questions?” When no one spoke up, he continued, “Captain Barker has your street assignments and pictures of the girl
. Pick them up and head out. If someone doesn’t answer your knock and you suspect residents are home, notify me. I don’t want anyone kicking down doors. Understood?”

  Conversations erupted as the men and women in the room formed an orderly line to collect their instructions. As Teague opened his folder, he noted he’d been assigned streets in his own neighborhood.

  Mateo nudged his arm. “Looks like I got the other side of town.”

  “We tried to assign areas you’re each familiar with. People are more likely to be helpful when they know or at least recognize you.” Glen Barker raised his voice to be heard. “Each of my people will be working in close proximity to a police officer. Hopefully, we can get this search finished quickly and produce results.”

  An older man from the department approached Teague. “I’m Art Cantrell. I’ll be working the neighborhood near your home with you. We divided it into two sections.”

  Teague held out his hand. “We met not long ago when Nina Hutton was attacked.”

  The officer shook his outstretched palm with a firm grip. “That’s right. O’Dell, isn’t it?”

  Teague nodded. “I assume I’m to call you if I run across anything suspicious or get any kind of lead?”

  “You bet. My cell number is there on the sheet you have, along with contact information for Chief Stackhouse. Shall we head out?”

  Following the officer as he limped down the stairs, Teague pulled out his phone to check for missed calls. There weren’t any, but his nerves were strung tight knowing a potential kidnapper could be somewhere nearby. Once he reached the parking lot, he hurried toward his pickup, anxious to get to work. If the child in Nina’s painting really had been taken from her family, he’d do his damnedest to see she was returned safely.

  Minutes later he parked by the curb near the edge of his neighborhood, one street over from his home. Though it was pushing ten, lights shone from the windows of most of the houses. He approached the first door, his ID badge in hand, but neither the middle-aged man who answered the door nor his wife recognized the girl in the painting. Thanking them, he headed to the next house to repeat the process. As the hour grew later with each successive inquiry, the blur of lights through the fog went out in the remaining homes. After pounding on doors, he had to wait for residents to get out of bed before they responded.