The Innocent

by Amanda Stevens

  “I want to talk to him again,” Abby said. “I want to ask him some questions about his financial trouble, especially regarding the IRS. I’d like to know just how desperate his situation is.”

  “Be careful,” Sam warned. “I’ve seen firsthand what men like him are capable of if they feel threatened.”

  His ominous words sent a shiver up Abby’s spine. “What about your sister? Do you think Karen’s capable of violence?”

  “No.” No equivocation on his part whatsoever.

  Abby frowned. “Could it be that you just don’t want to believe it?”

  “What are you getting at, Abby?”

  “I’m not saying she’s lying. I’m not saying she’s capable of violence. But there’s something about her reaction to this whole thing that bothers me.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’m not sure I can put my finger on it exactly. Maybe it’s because when she learned about Sara Beth’s disappearance, she didn’t fall apart the way Naomi did when she learned that Sadie had been taken. Or the way Tess Campbell did. I realize comparisons are unfair, because everyone reacts differently in situations like this. That’s why I’ve hesitated to say much.”

  Sam shrugged, but his expression tightened. “You’re entitled to your opinion, but I don’t believe for a minute that Karen would ever hurt Sara Beth. She loves that little girl.”

  Abby wished she could share his conviction, but the truth of the matter was, she didn’t trust Karen Brodie. Abby might not have Sam’s insight, his ability to read people, but she trusted her own instincts, and something was telling her to take a harder look at Karen Brodie even as the evidence pointed to Vickie Wilder.

  Given his relationship to Karen, Abby wondered if she’d made a mistake bringing Sam in on this case.

  Pushing her plate aside, she picked up the last folder. “Luanne Plimpton.”

  Sam grimaced. “A narcissist. Classic case. Craves admiration, has a sense of entitlement, lacks empathy.”

  “Even I could have told you that much.” Abby closed the folder and handed it to him. “Sara Beth was in her care when the child went missing. Luanne says she stopped at that particular drugstore because it was on the way home, but there’s a Big Star Pharmacy just two blocks over,” she said, referring to one of the large chains. “Hardly anyone out of the immediate neighborhood shops at Ferguson’s anymore. I don’t even know how the old man stays in business. The store is always empty. Maybe that’s why she stopped there. Maybe she knew there’d be no one around, no witnesses.”

  “She’d need an accomplice, too. Someone who knew about the stop ahead of time.”

  “Someone like Curtis,” Abby said. “Maybe he and Luanne cooked this whole thing up together.”

  Sam glanced down at her folder. “Then if I were Luanne, I’d be pretty damned worried. If Curtis was desperate enough and cold-blooded enough to kidnap his own child, it’s a safe bet he wouldn’t have qualms about eliminating any witnesses.”

  “But supposing Curtis had nothing to do with it. It’s pretty obvious Luanne has plans of becoming the next Mrs. Curtis Brodie. If she perceived Sara Beth as an obstacle, she’d want to remove her, wouldn’t she?”

  Sam eyed her approvingly. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you? You’re searching for deeper motives aside from the obvious.”

  “Yes, but you’re the expert.” Abby reached across him to retrieve the wine bottle. She replenished both of their glasses. “We’ve established means, motive, and opportunity for virtually every adult who came into contact with Sara Beth—and to a lesser extent, Emily. We have to narrow the list, and that’s where your expertise comes in. Have you worked up a profile?”

  “I’m working on it. From everything I’ve seen and read in the reports, I believe your niece Sadie was taken ten years ago by a woman, a Caucasian, somewhere between the ages of twenty and forty-five, possibly a little older. The abductor was someone familiar with this town. She lived here either at the time or at some time in the past, or she had relatives here. She deliberately chose the location and the time of the abduction because she knew she would be able to move about freely without suspicion. A lot of people were coming and going from the grounds after school. Chances were good she wouldn’t be noticed. Choosing Sadie was also very deliberate. Her age, her physical appearance. The child was taken to fill some kind of void.”

  Abby clung to his words in fascination. “You mean because the abductor’s own child might have died? Or had been put up for adoption?”

  “Something like that. But remember, Vickie Wilder was only a child herself ten years ago.”

  “What about Emily?”

  “Sadie’s and Emily’s abductions are connected. We may be dealing with one UNSUB in their disappearances.”

  Abby thought for a moment. “But if the abductor took Sadie as a replacement for her child, or a child, why did she come back ten years later and take Emily?”

  Sam didn’t answer, and Abby said, almost in a whisper, “You think she took Emily as a replacement for Sadie, don’t you? Because something happened to Sadie. You think she’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby, but after ten years, you have to know that’s a very real possibility. If I’m right, chances are good that Emily could still be alive.”

  Abby closed her eyes. She prayed with all her heart that Emily was alive. Safe and unharmed. That they would find her soon. But if Sam was right, Sadie would never be found.

  A fist of fear closed around Abby’s heart as images bombarded her. Images of Sadie and Naomi. Images of innocence lost.

  Ten years was a long time to grieve. A long time to cling to hope. There’d been times when Abby had thought to herself that a resolution, no matter how devastating, would be better than the awful purgatory of not knowing. Of forever waiting. But now she wasn’t so sure.

  To think of Sadie gone forever…

  To think of having to tell Naomi…

  “I could be wrong,” Sam said softly. “It could be that someone just wants us to think Emily and Sadie’s disappearances are connected.”

  “What about Sara Beth? Do you have a profile of her abductor?”

  He frowned into his glass. “No. Not yet.”

  Was he telling her everything? Abby wondered. Or was he holding back on her? Was he afraid to face the truth?

  “We don’t really know anything, do we?” she asked him. “We speculate, we have hunches, but we don’t have anything concrete. All these people we’ve talked to—any one of them could have taken Sara Beth or Emily, but we don’t know much more than we did six days ago when Emily first disappeared. And the trail is getting colder every second.”

  “It’s not like you to give up.”

  “I’m not giving up,” she said almost angrily. “I’ll never give up. It’s just…I’m scared.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m scared we won’t find them in time.”

  “You will. You’re one of the best investigators I’ve ever worked with, Abby. And if you care a little too much at times…it’s better than the opposite. Believe me.”

  “You care, Sam. You just don’t want anyone knowing it. Even yourself.”

  “Don’t try to make me into someone I’m not. I’m burned out, Abby. There are times when I feel like an old man.”

  “You’re not old.”

  He gave her an ironic smile. “Too old for you.”

  Abby very carefully placed her wineglass on the coffee table, then turned back to face him. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam wasn’t quite certain how it happened so quickly. One moment he was staring into her eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her long and deep. And she was kissing him back. He touched her all over, and she touched him back. Touched him in a way that made him burn for her.

  “Abby—”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

  He fumbled with her clothes and then with his
own, ripping off the items and discarding them in an untidy heap on the living-room floor. They fell back against the rug, arms and legs entwined. Abby’s body was hot and straining against his. Lush. Soft as silk. She was incredible. Sam wanted to restrain himself. Wanted to hold back and make it good for her, but it had been so damn long. And Abby was so damn sexy. And he needed her so badly…wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anything.

  “Yes,” she whispered, encouraging him, moving against him until control was out of the question. Until all he could do was hold her tightly, kiss her deeply and let nature takes its course.

  ABBY HAD ONLY meant to kiss him. She’d only meant to draw comfort from the feel of his arms around her. But the moment his lips met hers, she’d wanted more. Needed more.

  His touch was so electric. His body pressed against hers sent heat waves pulsing through her. It was wrong, of course. Irresponsible and foolish, and Abby made no excuses for herself. She simply wanted Sam at that moment, and she meant to have him. For once in her life, she was not going to put up roadblocks to her most secret desires.

  She might have still if it had been anyone but Sam. But, oh, did he know how to kiss! How to move. He knew just where to touch her to leave her gasping for more. The pleasure was so intense Abby couldn’t help but cry out.

  Her hands moved to his shoulders, trailed down his chest. His skin was so hot. His body so hard…

  “Are you sure you want this, Abby?”

  Her mind said no, but her body said yes. A thousand times, yes. She clutched his arms. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life,” she whispered.

  His gaze darkened knowingly as he lowered himself over her, and his body claimed hers in a slow dance of desire that left Abby shuddering. And wanting more…

  THEY LAY ON THEIR BACKS, staring at the ceiling. Finally Sam rolled over and propped himself on his elbow to gaze down at her. “That was—”

  “Stupid,” Abby said, squeezing her eyes closed. “Really, really, really stupid.”

  Ouch. Nothing like a little brutal honesty to quell the afterglow. “Sorry,” Sam muttered, not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. No more than it was mine.” She lifted her hands to her face. “I can’t believe I let that happen. I don’t do that kind of thing. I know I just did…but I don’t…” She trailed off helplessly. “What I mean is, I don’t have casual sex with strangers. At least, I didn’t until tonight. That’s how all the women in my family turned up pregnant.”

  “You’re not going to get pregnant,” Sam pointed out reasonably. “We took care of that, remember?”

  “That makes me feel so much better. I just had safe, casual sex with a stranger.”

  “We’re not exactly strangers.” Sam rolled over onto his back. He was getting a little annoyed by her attitude. Granted, he was rusty, but it hadn’t been that bad, had it?

  As if sensing she’d gone a little too far, Abby said quickly, “Look, it’s nothing personal. But that’s just the point. It wasn’t personal. We hardly know each other.”

  Maybe not, but Sam had opened up more to Abby in the past few hours than he had to anyone in years. He didn’t know why. He just knew that she wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met before. He just knew that he trusted her in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long, long time.

  And what they’d done…what they’d shared had been incredible. Why was she trying to deny it?

  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “I knew what I was doing. I did it because I wanted to. It felt good. And for a little while…”

  It made you forget about two missing little girls. Sam understood. Better than she did. Sometimes being with someone was the only way to make the darkness go away.

  Abby reached up to the sofa and grabbed a quilt from the back. She cocooned herself in it, and Sam suddenly became overly aware of his own nudity. He worked out. He kept in shape. But he was forty-three. A lot older than the men Abby was probably used to. Men like Special Agent Carter. Or like Dave Conyers. He’d seen the way both of them had looked at Abby today at the station. Hell, he couldn’t blame them. She was a very desirable woman, and any normal, red-blooded male would want her.

  But the thought of Abby with another man, any man, wasn’t something Sam cared to dwell on. He reached for his clothes as she got up and moved to the window to stare out. Pulling on his pants, he walked over and put his hands on her arms.

  An hour ago, even thirty minutes ago, such an intimacy would have been unthinkable. But they’d just made love, and whether Abby wanted to admit it or not, it hadn’t been casual. It hadn’t been wrong.

  He bent and kissed her neck. “Abby, don’t you think you’re overreacting? We’re both adults. We’re both free. What did we do that was so wrong?”

  “Just because something feels good doesn’t make it right, Sam.”

  “I know that. But at the risk of sounding indelicate, that wasn’t your first time, was it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s so different about being with me?”

  She turned and gazed up at him. “I’m not like the women you’re used to. I’m old-fashioned. I think a man and woman should at least be in love before they make love.”

  “Were you in love with the others?”

  “Other. And, yes, I thought I was. But there’s no question with you and me, is there? You aren’t in love with me any more than I am with you.”

  Sam felt a strange, unsettled sensation in his stomach. “No, I guess not.”

  “So that makes what we did no more than casual sex.”

  “Stop saying that.” He dropped his hands from her arms and moved back into the room, picking up his shirt from the floor and drawing it on.

  She turned and stared at him in confusion.

  “What? I can’t be angry?” he snapped. “For your information, what we did wasn’t the least bit casual to me. We may not know each other very well, and we may not be in love, but I do care about you, Abby. What we shared meant something to me. I’m sorry it meant so little to you.”

  She looked almost shocked by his words. “You care about me?”

  “Why should that surprise you? There was something between us the moment we laid eyes on each other.”

  “Physical attraction, yes, but—”

  “It was more than that and you know it.”

  She seemed at a loss. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Good.” He jerked on his tie. “Because in my opinion you’ve said too damn much already.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sounded wounded. “I guess I just wanted you to know that…I don’t expect anything from you.”

  “You mean there isn’t going to be some gun-toting cousin showing up on my doorstep to try and make an honest man of me?” He looked around. “Damn. I can’t find my other sock.”

  Abby’s mouth twitched. “For your information, we don’t do shotgun weddings down here. Hardly ever anymore, and besides, I told you before—there are no men in my family. The only person you have to worry about is my sister, Naomi. And if she gets wind of this—” She stopped short. “Sam, if anyone finds out about this, my reputation, my career—”

  “No one’s going to find out.”

  She drew a long breath. “It can’t happen again. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I guess I kind of figured.” He finished buttoning his shirt as he slipped into his shoes.

  Once he was dressed, they stood awkwardly apart. “I should probably get going.” Sam wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he try to kiss her? Given her mood, she might just smack him. And not in a good way.

  As if sensing his trepidation, she pulled the quilt more tightly around her. “It is getting late.”

  He nodded, but he still couldn’t quite make himself head for the door. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She gave him a little smile that made him want to kiss her even more badly. Agitated,
in the throes of remorse, she still looked pretty damn sexy. “I’ll be fine. A little repentance is good for the soul.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  She nodded as she reached a hand up to push back her mussed hair. The quilt slipped a little, revealing one creamy shoulder and a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage.

  Sam gritted his teeth and headed toward the door, but she stopped him. “Sam?”

  He turned and took a step back into the room. “Yeah?”

  “All those things I said…” She paused, biting her lip. “With the guilt and all, I might not have mentioned that you were pretty amazing.”

  He gave her a brief smile. “I wasn’t sure. It’s been a while and…things happened a little quickly—”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re babbling.”

  “I never babble,” he said quite seriously. She nodded. “Right. And I never have casual sex with a stranger.”

  ABBY HAD JUST CLIMBED out of the shower and was slipping into bed when her phone rang. For a moment, she had the irrational hope that it might be Sam, wanting to come back over. For another half second, she debated with herself on what to tell him. Yes. No. Maybe. Then she jerked up the phone and lifted it to her ear. When she heard Sheriff Mooney’s voice, disappointment darted through her. And then fear.

  Oh, God, they’ve found one of the children. Please let her be alive.

  “What is it, Sheriff? What’s happened?”

  “Abby, I’m at the Brodie house. Get over here as fast as you can. Karen Brodie just got a ransom demand. By morning, the damn place is going to be crawling with feds.”

  ABBY BREATHED a sigh of relief when she pulled up to the Brodie house and saw that there were no news vans parked at the curb or reporters milling about in the yard. The media hadn’t yet gotten wind of this new development, and the longer they could be kept at bay, the better.

  Sheriff Mooney was inside, along with the deputy who had monitored the call. There were a few others standing around, but it was clear to everyone present that Special Agent Carter had assumed an elevated role in the investigation. It would continue to be a joint effort between the feds and the locals, but the Bureau’s presence from now on would be a lot more prominent because the ransom note had changed the dynamics of the case.