"That doesn't always have to happen."
"It doesn't have to – but it seems to," she said. "I need to accept that and be ready for anything. I also need to expand my circle of friends."
"Am I in the circle now?"
She gave him a wry smile. "You're taking up a large part of it."
He rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward. "I think your friends understand your obsession, Adrianna. And from what you've told me about Will, he supported your career. He wanted the best for you."
"He did. He was good for me, too. He helped me take life less seriously. I'm not sure I helped him though. I called his mother earlier."
"Why?"
"My unanswered questions. She said that she and her husband had spoken to Will several times the night he was murdered. They wanted him to work at the law firm, reconsider law school. She thought it was time he had a grown-up job."
"It doesn't sound like they knew him very well," Wyatt commented.
"I don't think they knew him at all. Will didn't have a lot of ambition. He just wanted a job where he could have fun and make enough money to live on. He supported me, but I don't think he ever really understood my desire to have a big career. The irony is that now I'm being offered exactly what I always wanted, and I can't seem to take it."
"Because you're scared." He sat back in his seat, tilting his head, as his gaze settled on hers. "Maybe your fear of being in the kitchen has nothing to do with what happened that night."
"Of course it does," she said, surprised by his words. "What else would it be?"
"Maybe it has to do with the fear that you won't be able to do what you always thought you could do -- be the chef of your dreams."
"I'm a good chef," she defended. "I know that."
"But you don't have to prove it if you don't go back to work."
"I've already proven it. That's why Stephan is giving me the job."
"And that's why you should take it," he said. "Because you're good and you deserve it." He paused. "I think your mom would be very proud of you."
Her eyes blurred with unexpected tears. Very few people knew anything about her mom. She still couldn't quite believe she'd shared so much of her life story with Wyatt.
"She did the best she could for me. I don't blame her for not giving me some idyllic childhood. She was sick. She gave me all she had."
"She gave you heart, drive, determination. I bet she was a fighter, wasn't she?"
"For a long time, and then she just got too tired. A couple of days before she died, she told me that she was sorry. She didn't have anything left, and I remember stroking her forehead and saying, it's okay, you can go. But inside, I was screaming, don't go." She took a breath and blew it out. "I didn't mean to go back there. Let's talk about you."
"I think you know way too much about me."
"No, I'm still learning. Today, I found out you like muscle cars. And that you're a really fast eater." She grabbed the last onion ring. "At least you saved me one."
"You snooze you lose."
"I wasn't snoozing. I was talking to you."
He laughed and the sound warmed her soul.
"You should do that more often," she told him.
At her words, he caught himself.
"Don't," she said quickly. "Don't stop. You deserve to laugh once in a while."
"I'll laugh my ass off when I get Steph back," he said.
"I can't wait to see her again," she said.
He frowned. "I forget that you've actually seen her, talked to her…"
"She didn't talk back. But she did look at me with your sharp, piercing blue eyes. She's a tough little girl, Wyatt. I suspect she takes after you, and I know she's going to come through this."
"I hope so. I can't believe I've missed so much of her life already."
"There's a lot more to come. She's only eight."
"That's what I keep telling myself." He paused as Josephine came over to their table.
"You'll still have to deal with her first date and getting her driver's license, falling in love, getting her heart broken –"
Wyatt put up his hand. "Stop, that's way too much for me to think about. I'm still working on the easy things like learning how to make a French braid. Although, it's been so long, I've forgotten."
She smiled. "I can't quite picture you braiding your daughter's hair."
"It really was just me and Stephanie for a long time, even before Jen took off."
"Your burgers will be up shortly," Josephine interrupted, sliding into the booth next to Adrianna. "Now, let's talk. Why do I have the feeling this visit isn't purely social?"
"Because you could always see right through me," Adrianna said. "First, can I say that I feel badly that I haven't been back in a while?"
Josephine patted her hand. "Oh, don't give it another thought. I know why you stayed away."
"Because I'm inconsiderate and thoughtless?"
"Because you've made a life for yourself, and you don't want to look back. It's like when you're climbing a ladder, Adrianna. It's a good idea never to look down. You can freeze when you realize how high you are. It's better to just keep looking up, then you don't lose your momentum or get scared."
"That's remarkably right on the mark," she said, not sure why she was surprised. Josephine had always been able to read her so well. "But it was stupid to think that coming back here would derail me in any way. Seeing you isn't going to knock me off the ladder. It's only going to make me want to keep on going, make you proud of me."
"Oh, I already am." She glanced over at Wyatt. "What brings you here, Officer?"
"Actually, it's Inspector," he said. "But good guess."
She shot Adrianna a quick look. "I am surprised to find you hanging out with a police officer."
"I'm helping Wyatt look for his daughter. His ex-wife took her a couple of years ago, and his little girl needs to be rescued."
"Oh, dear, that doesn't sound good."
"We're hoping you can help," Adrianna continued. "His ex-wife was working at Ricky's as a stripper. She called herself Carly. One of her friends said she used to come in here."
"This is a photo of her and also my daughter from a few years ago," Wyatt said, pulling out two photographs and placing them on the table. "They've dyed their hair brown."
Josephine studied the pictures. "Sure, I've seen them, more than a few times."
"Did you talk to them?" Wyatt asked.
"I talk to everyone," Josephine said. "The little girl loved my tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich."
At her words, Wyatt turned pale. "She ordered that?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.
"Every single time," she said, her tone softening as she looked at him. "You used to make it for her, didn't you?"
He nodded, his lips tightening. "At least she hasn't forgotten everything I did for her."
"How long has it been since you've seen her?" Josephine asked Wyatt.
"Two years."
She shook her head, pursing her lips at the thought. "I knew there was something off with those two, but I couldn't get the woman to talk. She always sat facing the door as if she was used to looking over her shoulder. Now I know why."
"She told people that I hurt her, but that was a lie."
Josephine gave him a long hard look. "I believe you. Adrianna wouldn't be with you if she didn't trust you. She's a good judge of character, and she doesn't trust easily, so if she's invested in you, than you're all right in my book."
Adrianna was touched that Josephine had such faith in her.
"Do you have any idea where I could find my daughter?" Wyatt asked.
"I think she was living at the Graceland Apartments, a few blocks from here. I can't remember the last time I saw her, but I think it was a few weeks ago. She had Becky's daughter with her."
"So you knew Becky?" Adrianna asked.
"She was sweeter than Carly, a lot more trusting. That little boy of hers seemed to take care of her instead of the oth
er way around. I think she got involved with some call girl service. I tried to help her, but when those girls get offered big money, it's hard for them to turn it down." She paused for breath. "I wish I could be of more help." She got to her feet. "I'll get your food, so you can be on your way."
"Thanks, Josephine," Adrianna said. "I promise to visit more often."
"I'm going to hold you to that."
When Josephine had left, Adrianna looked over at Wyatt, noting the tense expression in his eyes. "Are you all right?"
"It's weird that such a small thing like tomato soup …" he couldn't finish the sentence. "Never mind."
"Do you want to skip the food and go to the apartment building now?"
"It looks like the burgers are on their way," he said, tipping his head to the waitress moving in their direction. Let's eat first."
"Okay. You're going to love these burgers. Trust me."
"I do trust you. And not just about the burgers."
His warm, caring gaze wrapped around her heart. "I'm glad," she said softly as the waitress set down their food.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, they left the diner and walked three blocks to the Graceland Apartments, an aging apartment building of twenty-some units. "This looks like a dump," Wyatt muttered. "How could a rich girl like Jen want to live in a place like this?"
"I wonder why she didn't find a way to get money from her parents," Adrianna asked, as she stared up at the peeling paint and the metal sign dangling by one bolt.
He'd wondered about that, too. He'd always believed they'd found a way to help her. But maybe the money had run out. Or Jen had blown her parents' cash on drugs. "I've been watching their accounts for the last two years," he said to Adrianna. "It would have been difficult for them to move money without me being able to follow it."
As he finished speaking, it occurred to him that by keeping such a close eye on her parents, he might have forced Jen to live in places like this, not that he cared about her, but he'd put his daughter in the same position.
"It was probably because of my intense scrutiny that Jen and Stephanie had to live like this. I cut off the money supply."
"She had a choice. She could have surrendered. She could have put her child first. You didn't do any of this, Wyatt. It's all on Jennifer. But let's just see if she's here or has been here. If she's not, then we move on."
He liked Adrianna's take-charge attitude. He usually had an endless supply of energy when it came to searching for his daughter, but time was taking its toll, and some days it was more difficult to be optimistic than others.
Adrianna led the way into the office, a small room with a desk, some filing cabinets, and a TV hanging off the wall. It reminded him very much of the office at the Fantasy Inn. A skinny, pimply-faced male about twenty gave him a bored look.
"Yeah?" the kid asked.
"I'm looking for a woman named Carly," he said. "She has two little girls with her." He flashed his badge and pulled out the photos.
"They don't look familiar," the kid said vaguely.
A blast of fury ran through him. He wanted to reach across the desk and squeeze some better answers out of this kid. He was so damn tired of being given the run around. Adrianna must have sensed his frustration, because her hand was suddenly on his arm, her fingers digging into his skin.
"Where's the manager?" she asked.
"Kyle will be back in an hour."
"Then we'll wait," Wyatt said. "Or you can look on your computer and give me a list of tenants."
"I can't do that. It's private."
"I can get a search warrant," he threatened.
"Then get one," the kid said, obviously not unfamiliar with cops wanting information about tenants. "You'll have to wait outside. I'm locking up for a while."
The kid got to his feet, and they had no choice but to leave. The door was locked behind them.
He paced back and forth on the sidewalk as he considered his options.
"Can you really get a search warrant?" Adrianna asked.
"Probably not," he admitted.
"Maybe the manager will give you more information when he gets back."
"Maybe, but doubtful," he said, wishing he could recapture the feeling of hope he'd had earlier. "Every time I turn around I hit a brick wall. I have no idea if Jen is here now, or if she's ever been here. I could waste another hour waiting for someone who's going to tell me nothing."
"That's the risk, but you still have other clues, too," she pointed out. "We're much further ahead than we were yesterday."
"Are we?" he asked, thrusting a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just running around in circles."
"Eventually Jen will make a mistake."
"I've been telling myself that for two years. She was smarter than I gave her credit for. I underestimated her." He took a breath. "I have to admit that part of me doesn't want to find them here, because I don't want to think my daughter has been living in this shithole."
"Don't think about that. Just focus on the reunion you're going to have."
Adrianna glanced down at her watch, and he suddenly realized the time.
"You're supposed to be at Vincenzo's now, aren't you?" he asked.
"This is more important," she said. "That can wait."
"No, you need to go to your meeting."
"I can do it tomorrow."
"You need to do it today." As much as he liked having her by his side, he didn't want to be the reason she lost her opportunity at a great job. "Take my car. I can cab it back."
"I'll take the bus. It's a quick ride from here. And who knows where your next clue will lead you?"
He couldn't argue with that, but he still wasn't going to put her on the bus. "Hang on a second," he said, taking out his phone. "I'll get you a cab."
"That wasn't necessary," she said, when he ended the call.
"The bus takes forever. A cab will be here in a few minutes."
"All right." She shifted her feet somewhat nervously. "I hope I can actually do this. Go inside Vincenzo's."
"When you walk in the door, don't look away from the spot where you saw Will," he advised. "Fear is like a bully. When you run, it likes to chase. When you look it in the eye, it backs down."
"I'll try to remember that. But I'm not sure I can do it."
"You can. I have faith in you." A moment later a cab pulled up, and he opened the door for her. "Good luck."
"Thanks. I'll call you later."
He shut the door and watched her drive off, hoping she'd make it into the kitchen. He wished he could do more for her, but this was one battle she was going to have to fight by herself.
Chapter Thirteen
Adrianna felt like she had weights around her ankles as she got out of the cab and walked toward the front door of Vincenzo's. She kept reminding herself that she'd been inside the restaurant two days earlier, that she'd spent time in the office, and nothing bad had happened. But she hadn't looked at the floor. She'd been very careful not to do that. Did she have the courage to face her biggest fear today?
She hoped so. She felt stronger, more like herself again. Watching Wyatt search for his daughter, had given her new perspective. There was a whole world happening around her, and she needed to get back in it. She couldn't change the past. The men who had killed Will had already stolen enough from her; they weren't going to get the rest of her life.
Putting a firm hand on the handle, she opened the door and stepped across the threshold. It was that in between time where the restaurant emptied after lunch and the staff regrouped for dinner. The podium where the hostesses worked was empty. The bartender was at the far end of the bar, in discussion with one of the waitresses. There was no one around, no one to distract her from looking where she needed to look.
It was incredibly difficult to lower her gaze. Somehow she managed to do it. The floor had been redone, the carpet ripped up, the wood beneath sanded to a fine sheen. But she could still see Will lying there, the blo
od pooling under his head and running through the strands of his blond hair. There had been so much blood.
Her stomach rolled over as Will's image flashed through her head. He'd been on his back, his eyes wide open and shocked.
She drew in a shaky breath, trying not to run away from the memory. She needed to confront it. She could feel her blood rushing through her veins, her heart thudding against her chest. A montage of images passed in front of her eyes.
"Will," she whispered, seeing his face again, but this time his eyes weren't lifeless. They were smiling at her. That's the way she wanted to remember him – not as that quiet, still, shocked figure but as the man who had made her laugh, who had forced her to take life less seriously, who had loved her … even when she hadn't loved him back.
As she stared at the floor, Will's body faded away and all she saw was the wood – beautiful, shiny, dark wood. She'd chased away the bully.
When she lifted her gaze, she could finally see the rest of the room for what it was – a warm, welcoming dining room, where people came to share a meal, to converse, to enjoy themselves.
Her feet moved without conscious thought. She was vaguely aware of some of the servers saying hello, but her gaze was now fixed on the kitchen door.
She moved through the door, trying not to think about what she was doing. The quiet of the dining room was sharply contrasted with the bustling prep of dinner service. She saw Lindsay first, then Roberto, Cameron, and Jeannie. They were doing what they always did, chopping, slicing, broiling, sautéing … One after the other looked up, until they were all staring at her, and a hush descended on the room.
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