“It was a bachelor party,” she explained. “He’s actually a stand-up guy, good job, good provider, no record, not even a traffic ticket.”
“And your point is?”
“PBJ,” she said on a rush of breath.
“You want me to give a drunk probation before judgment?”
“Exactly. C’mon, Hayden. You know this is a just resolution.”
“I know it’s a bad precedent to set,” he replied.
“No, giving a guy a record when all he did was overdo it at a party sets a bad precedent. He has a wife and two kids to support. And he’s very, very contrite.”
“Okay.”
She felt like celebrating. Then he held up one hand.
“But. He pays a two-hundred-dollar fine.”
“One hundred.” Hayden gave her a stern glare. “He’s an entry level guy with two kids in diapers. Two hundred would be a real hardship.”
“Probation for one year including random drug and alcohol testing.”
“Done.”
Hayden smiled. “Don’t you have to run any of this past your client?”
“He’ll be thrilled, trust me.”
* * *
Her day was long and not nearly over when she returned to her office at five-thirty. Her briefcase was heavy with files and paperwork she needed to complete on all her cases from that day. Ever helpful Harriett was gone, as was everyone except Elgin. He was in his office with the door closed, but she could hear him speaking—just not well enough to make out any words.
After depositing her heavy bag on a chair, she took off her jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of her door. After leaving briefly to make a fresh pot of coffee she returned to face the mound of paperwork, checking her cell phone, expecting a message from her sister. Finding none, she dialed Amelia but the call went to voicemail. She was probably with their mother, Emma decided. There was no cell service in the critical care unit.
Her day had consisted of seven plea bargains and one not-guilty plea. The not guilty had been the perv, who she hoped would become Bill’s headache. Until then, not guilty was the only option she could recommend.
Emma was on her fourth case and her fifth cup of coffee when Elgin stuck his head in the door. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was folded over his arm. “Still here?”
“For a while.”
“I’m heading out.” He turned, then abruptly turned back. “Bill will take your molester but he’s going to dump a half-dozen domestic abusers on you in return.”
“Good and fine,” she said, relieved. Not that she had a lot of use for domestic violence, but in her world, it was better than arguing in favor of a pervert. “Have a nice evening.”
“You too.”
Emma went back to her computer and typed out the various terms of the various plea deals. It took her almost an hour to finish. She was standing at the printer when she sensed someone behind her. She glanced back to find Conner Kavanaugh standing by Harriett’s desk.
“You scared me,” she snapped. “Not very smart to sneak up on a woman who carries a gun.” Which was in her purse, in a locked drawer. In her office. Twenty feet away.
He smiled. “But you keep your gun in your purse, which I’m guessing is in your office. I’d suggest you lock the door if you’re going to work alone at night.”
“Thanks for the tip.” She gathered her documents and went to her office with Conner on her heels. “What do you need?” she asked.
The instant her hands were free, he spun her around and kissed her urgently. Emma’s palms were flattened against his chest and she knew the smart thing to do would be to push him away. But she wasn’t feeling smart. She was feeling desire. A lot of desire. Toe-curling desire. Her head was spinning so she grabbed his uniform shirt to keep her balance.
Conner deepened the kiss, teasing her tongue with his own as he drew his fingers through her hair. With a gentle tug, he forced her head back a little, then blazed a trail of hot kisses along her throat. Emma couldn’t help herself. She moaned, let go of the fabric and allowed her hands to feel the sculpted muscle of his torso through his shirt.
When he took her mouth again, she began to fumble with the buttons. He did the same, only his fingers were far more adept. In no time, he had her blouse pushed back on her shoulders and he was moving her backward until Emma felt the edge of her desk against the back of her thighs. Reflexively, she arched back as Conner lifted his head briefly, then kissed his way to the lacy edge of her bra.
She thought her heart would pound right out of her chest as she continued to undo the buttons on his uniform. Finally, she shoved the shirt open and felt his warm skin against her own. When she moved to his belt, she heard bells chiming,
Momentarily coming out of her sensual fog, she realized the sounds were coming from her cell phone. “I have to get that,” she said in a breathy voice she barely recognized.
Conner continued to kiss her neck as she reached behind her and blindly felt around for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Emma McKinley?”
“Yes.”
“This is Helen Jenkins at Mercy Hospital.”
She immediately sobered, straightening up and pushing Conner away. “Is it my mother?”
“No,” she said. “I was calling about your sister.”
“Is she trying to do too much?” Emma asked. That was so like Amelia.
“That’s the thing,” Helen said. “She called here early this morning and said she’d be here before noon.”
“But?”
“She never showed up and she isn’t answering her cell phone.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tell me exactly what happened when you took Amelia to the airport,” Emma asked Jeanine, hearing the panic in her own voice.
“Well, I drove her to the terminal. I put her bag by the check-in. As I was saying good-bye, she got a call on her cell phone.”
“Any idea who it was?” Emma pressed.
Jeanine’s eyes grew wide. “I assumed it was you.”
Not me. “But she went in to the terminal?”
Jeanine shrugged. “She was on the phone, and you can’t park at the curb so I drove off. I’m so sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault.” She turned to Conner. “Can we go look at video at the airport?”
“Sure. C’mon, I’ll drive.”
“I’ll stay here,” Sam called from the living room.
Conner looked torn for a second.
“They’ll be fine,” Emma insisted.
Fear settled in the pit of her stomach while Conner raced down a series of two-lane roads toward the airport.
“Has your sister ever done anything like this before?”
Emma shook her head. “She’s flighty when it comes to work but she would never disappear on me. We’re close. We tell each other everything.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Everything?”
Emma shrugged. “She knows we slept together.”
Conner shook his head. “And you think news travels fast in Purdue.”
“No, I think gossip travels fast in Purdue. But I don’t care about that now. Now I want to know what happened to my sister.”
“Is there anyone she might have called?”
“The hospital where my mother is. Her fiancé, Brody and maybe her friend Regina.”
Emma was already pulling her cell out of her purse when Conner suggested, “Give her a call. Maybe she’s heard something.”
Reggie—as she was known—picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, It’s Emma.”
“Emma? What a surprise. Is everything okay? Is it your mother?”
“No, she’s still about the same. I was wondering when you last spoke to Amelia.”
“Early this morning. She was waiting to check-in at the airport.”
“How did she seem?”
“Well, glad to be leaving Purdue. But it was a normal call. Nothing jumped out at me; why?
”
Emma explained the situation. “I’m on my way to the airport now to check out the video surveillance. Is there any way you could call Brody for me?” They passed a road sign that indicated the airport was just two miles up ahead.
“I’m on it. I’ll call you once I speak to him but will you keep me posted?”
“Yes, of course.”
Moments later, Conner pulled up and parked his official SUV in the fire lane. Emma was out of the car the minute it came to a full stop. North Central Airport was a modest building, an air traffic control tower, and six runways. Only a few airlines serviced the area, so Emma thought that should make their job easier.
Conner went up to the first officer he saw and flashed his badge, and then they were escorted to the far end of the terminal, to a door marked PRIVATE.
They found themselves in a large room with a wall of monitors covering everything from the parking garage to the tarmac. A short, rotund man came over and extended his hand to Conner. “Lieutenant Tate,” he introduced himself. “I’m chief of operations. What can I do for you?”
Conner explained the situation, ending his explanation with, “So, the last time anyone saw her she was at curbside check-in at approximately eight-thirty this morning.”
Tate took them into a darkened room with two chairs and a computer. The smell of stale coffee battled with the scent of Tate’s cheap cologne. Without pulling out the chair, Tate leaned over and typed something on the keyboard, then had Conner repeat the time in question. “I’ve set it up to start playing at eight-fifteen this morning. This arrow plays the footage in real time. This one”—he paused and moved the mouse over a double arrow—“puts it into slow motion.”
“Can I do a screen grab?” Emma asked.
“Sure.” Tate stepped back and went to the door. “Come find me if you need anything else.”
Eyes glued to the screen, Emma sat in front of the computer with Conner to her right. It didn’t take but a few minutes for Jeanine’s car to come into view.
“There she is. With her bag,” Emma narrated. “She’s walking up to check-in. Now she’s on the phone.”
“Then she stops,” Conner continued. “Seems to me like she’s looking around. Now she’s moving away from check-in and farther down the curbside.”
Emma was still glued to the screen. “She’s off the phone and seems to be looking around.”
“For what?” Conner asked rhetorically.
“There’s no sound,” Emma groaned. She blew out an impatient breath as she watched her sister stand on the curb for nearly ten minutes. “She’s taking out her phone again.”
“Incoming call,” Conner observed.
They watched in silence while Amelia ended the call and a few minutes later a black car pulled up to the curb.
“Freeze that,” Conner said. He took a pen and small pad out of his shirt pocket. “Is that last number on the license plate a three or an eight?”
“A three,” she said confidently. “Do you know what kind of car that is?”
“Crown Victoria,” he told her. “Newer model.”
Amelia leaned toward the passenger window, then the trunk popped open and Amelia went around to the back of the car and placed her bag in the trunk and shut it. She went back to the passenger door and got into the car. The entire scene took less than two minutes.
“Any ideas on who that was?” Conner asked.
“Amelia doesn’t know anyone in Purdue. I have no idea who that was or why she willingly got into his car.”
Conner raked his fingers through his thick, ebony hair. One strand refused to cooperate and before she thought about it, Emma reached out and tucked it into place. Doing so felt intimate and strange all at once. She chalked it up to concern and confusion.
“Is she trusting?” he asked.
Emma nodded. “She can be a little naive when it comes to reading people, but I don’t think she’d be careless here.”
“Here?” Conner pressed.
“Purdue,” she answered solemnly.
“Care to expand on that?”
This was a definite crossroad. She needed his help but telling him the truth was a risk. But with Amelia missing, she didn’t feel as if she had a choice.
“Can you run that license plate?”
“The minute we get back to my car.” He tucked his finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could hold her gaze. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I know.”
He frowned. “I’m not looking for affirmation; I’m looking for the truth.”
“Which I will tell you when we aren’t in an airport security cubicle.”
His hand moved so that his palm cupped the side of her face. “I care about you. You can trust me. The last thing I want between us is secrets. That’s what destroyed my marriage.”
I care about you? What did that mean? And if he thought his marriage had been destroyed by secrets, she was about to unload a real whopper on him.
They thanked Tate and walked out with a screen shot of the license plate of the Crown Vic Amelia was last seen getting into. As soon as they were back in the SUV, Conner leaned over the console and gave her a kiss—a deep, gentle kiss unlike the passionate ones she’d grown to enjoy. It didn’t last long but it made a lasting impression. “The license plate?” she prompted.
Conner got on the radio and called in the plate. In a few minutes the radio crackled back to life. “Go ahead,” Conner said into the mouthpiece.
“Came back as stolen off a green Celica last night.”
“Damn it,” Conner groaned. He signed off the radio. “I can pull a list of all the black Crown Vics in the county but it’ll be a long list.”
“What about her cell phone records?”
Conner nodded. “I can open a missing/endangered case and get a subpoena tonight.”
Emma reached out reflexively and squeezed this arm. “You’d do that for me?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you.” He reached out and gently placed his hand behind her neck and pulled her closer. This kiss definitely wasn’t gentle. This one was powerful enough to make her forget her troubles for a few glorious minutes. And even though he was barely touching her, she felt a jolt of desire course through her with every thrust of his masterful tongue.
Slowly, and with regret in his dark, hooded eyes, Conner let his arm fall away. “Until you, I never thought I’d want to be close to a woman again.”
She froze, half from happiness and half from abject fear. “Maybe it’s just lust,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Don’t freak out on me. I’m just letting you know where I stand with this situation. My interest is piqued. But no pressure.”
“Definite pressure,” she said under her breath. She thought about their situation and realized he wasn’t far off the mark. Never in her life had she slept with a man on the first date. And if they hadn’t been interrupted by that phone call, she would have made love to him on her office desk earlier. But it was more than the sex. She liked him. Found him easy to be around. Loved his daughter. Weren’t those the signs of falling for a guy? God, her dating history was so poorly lacking that she had to make a mental pro/con list. And of course there was one big con: she wasn’t really Emma McKinley.
“So you were going to tell me about why your sister would want to get as far away from Purdue as possible.”
Now if she told him the whole story he’d probably head for the hills. She’d be putting herself in the same category as his cheating, lying ex-wife. She’d lose this. Him.
“Can we save that for tomorrow?” she asked. “I’m physically and emotionally exhausted and worried sick about Amelia.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll take you home, then swing by the office and work on getting your sister’s cell records.”
“Sam is still at my place,” she reminded him. In the dim light from the dashboard she watched him frown. “The tut
oring is going well.”
“So is the constant texting,” he groused, his frown deepening. “I think my daughter might be getting a little too close to your delinquent.”
“David is not a delinquent. He’s smart and he’s a whiz on the computer.”
“I know. Sam mentioned that.”
“He’s very well read and he hasn’t done anything wrong since the change in his environment.”
“I know. Sam mentioned that, too.”
Emma smiled. “You just don’t like him.”
“I know. I mentioned that to Sam.”
“Not to interject myself into your relationship with your daughter but trashing the guy a girl likes usually only makes her like him more.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t have any kids.”
“Says the woman who was once a sixteen-year-old girl.”
They reached her driveway, but before he let her get out of the car Conner said, “I have my custody papers in the car.”
“Let me have them.”
He shook his head. “You have too much on your plate right now.”
“Which means I probably won’t sleep much, so hand them over.”
He reached behind her and dragged up an accordion file. “The divorce from hell,” he said, presenting her with the heavy file.
“I’m sure it will be interesting reading and I’ll—”
“Will you look at that!” Conner fumed.
Emma followed his gaze and saw the silhouettes of Sam and David in the window. “I guess tutoring is over,” she teased.
Conner was not amused. “She’s just a kid.”
“No, she’s a young lady.”
“I thought you said Jeanine would chaperone.”
“Don’t bark at me,” Emma told him. “And if you’re smart, you won’t bark at your daughter either. They’re kissing, Conner, not running naked through the house.”
His knuckles on the steering wheel went white from his death grip. “She’s too young for this. And he’s a loser.”
“First, she isn’t too young to be kissed and second, I’m sure part of David’s appeal is his bad boy image. Very powerful stuff to a sixteen-year-old girl. We all have at least one bad boy in our history. It’s a rite of passage.”
Abandoned Page 14
