Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “No, I didn’t.” Her usual breezy persona was failing her. She was coming across as hard. No, brittle. Probably unlikable. Yeah, so what? I am unlikable. “Let’s be honest, Detective. Even if you run a DNA test and it’s a match to Hope Lawson, I am not her.” She leaned forward, her gaze boring into his, her voice rising despite herself. “Do you understand? I can’t be her. I don’t intend even to try.”

  He raised dark eyebrows. “And yet you’re here.”

  And there was the conundrum.

  “I suppose, in the end, curiosity got to me. Also...” She frowned. This was the part she didn’t understand. She thought of herself as utterly self-centered. Life hadn’t taught her to be anything else.

  “Also?” he prodded, that deep voice now easygoing, undemanding. He was going out of his way not to put pressure on her, because he’d read her with unerring accuracy.

  “I suppose I thought it might mean something to these people. I mean, if they’re still searching for—” Oops. She’d almost said me. “Hope,” she substituted.

  “Never knowing what happened to someone you love is incredibly hard.” That sounded personal, as if he had lost a loved one. “Worse than seeing her murdered. Worse than burying her. Actually seeing you, knowing you are alive and well, will mean everything to the Lawsons.”

  “You’re assuming I am Hope.” She made it a challenge.

  “We’ll definitely run a DNA test, if you’re willing.” He waited for her nod. “Unfortunately, dental records won’t be helpful. At the time of your disappearance, you were only beginning to get your first adult teeth. However, Hope did have a birthmark.”

  Bailey flinched. She hadn’t seen mention of that.

  “It’s a small detail held back after your disappearance. DNA matching was then in its infancy.”

  She nodded. He waited. Finally she sighed. “I have one on my left hip. It’s...sort of heart shaped.”

  “May I see it?”

  “Here?”

  “Why not?”

  He was right. She certainly wasn’t a shrinking virgin. After a moment, she stood, went around the table, unbuttoned and unzipped her chinos, and pushed them down enough to reveal the waistband of her panties—and the tiny, dark heart that always intrigued guys and disturbed her. She used to wonder if it was a brand he had put on her.

  Detective Chandler looked for a moment that stretched and had her heart beating hard and fast. His expression never changed—but she also wasn’t surprised to see that his pupils had dilated when he finally lifted his head. They stared at each other, and she thought, Don’t let him want me. Because she was tempted? No, no, no. Because it would be incredibly unrewarding for him. Men...well, she didn’t do men. Not anymore.

  She fumbled hastily to fasten her chinos. When she looked at him again, his crooked smile sent a jolt through her.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hope Lawson,” he said.

  “Just...don’t call me that.”

  “All right.” There was that astonishing gentleness again. “Bailey it is. Unless you prefer Ms. Smith?”

  “Either is fine.” She retreated to her side of the table. “Thank you, Detective.”

  “If you’re going to be Bailey, I’ll be Seth.”

  The flutter in her belly wouldn’t let her respond to that. We’re not friends, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to alienate him, either. This desire to cling to him was completely unfamiliar to her.

  “Can you tell me what you remember?” he asked.

  She had known he would ask but had hoped for a reprieve. Still, maybe it was better to get this over with.

  “If you mean about this town or the Lawsons or...” She stopped. “Nothing. I think he punished me if I asked questions or said anything about...about home. So I forgot. He made me call him Daddy.”

  Seth Chandler’s face hardened. “He’s the one who snatched you.”

  “I think so.” She’d blocked out so much. “He might have gotten me from someone else. I’m not positive.”

  “But he kept you, this man.”

  “For a while. I don’t know how old I was for sure, but I think about eleven when he ditched me.”

  “Ditched you?”

  “We moved a lot.” She did remember that. “Stayed in crummy places. Sometimes he’d get an apartment, sometimes it was those motels that rent rooms by the week. You know.”

  He nodded. She saw that much, although she could no longer meet his eyes. The police and then social workers had dragged some of this out of her back then, but she hadn’t told them everything, out of fear or loyalty, she didn’t know which.

  “It was a really scuzzy motel that time. In, um, Bakersfield. California,” she added, in case he didn’t know. “It was night. He said he was going out. He did that a lot.” And she’d been relieved. Maybe he wouldn’t wake her up when he came in. “Only this time, he never came back. When he wasn’t there in the morning, I realized he had taken my stuff into the room but not his. He meant to leave me.”

  A shudder passed through Seth—no, Detective Chandler. His hand that rested on the table knotted into a fist so tight, his knuckles showed white. Bailey eyed that fist, knowing it should frighten her and wondering why it didn’t.

  What was truly remarkable, considering the rage vibrating in him, was the kindness in his voice. “What did you do?”

  “I waited. I don’t know, two or three days, I think. If he came back and I was gone, he’d have been furious. I sneaked out a few times and stole some food. There was a Burger King a couple of blocks away. If you sort of lurk in a place like that, people throw food away, or they just leave it on the table. Eventually, the motel manager let himself into the room because he hadn’t paid. That’s when the police came.”

  “Did they try to find out who you were?”

  “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “I said he was my daddy, and I think they believed that. I know they looked for him, but he was gone. So I went into foster care.” She shrugged. Habit. A way of saying, No biggie, that’s the way it was.

  “Why do you think he left you then?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I think because my body was changing. He didn’t like that.”

  “He used you sexually.” Detective Chandler sounded almost calm.

  Bailey flashed a dark, scathing look at him. “What do you think?”

  He closed his eyes. Tendons stood out in his neck and a nerve pulsed in his jaw. She waited while he fought for control.

  Finally he looked at her with eyes that were almost black. “I’d like to get my hands on him.”

  Surprised, she said, “That was a very long time ago. You didn’t know me.”

  “I feel like I did. I’ve immersed myself in your life. In that day. What everyone did, said, thought. The child you were is very real to me.”

  “I’m glad she is to one of us,” Bailey joked.

  His eyes narrowed a flicker, as if she’d startled or even shocked him.

  “That girl is a complete stranger to me,” she explained. “It’s why I wasn’t sure I wanted to make this pilgrimage.” Her word choice caught her by surprise. Was that how she saw this?

  “I understand, although it’s going to be hard on the Lawsons.”

  “I can’t help that.”

  He nodded. “Are you ready to meet them?”

  She had a feeling he’d been about to say “your parents,” and appreciated the fact that he didn’t. Parents... Well, there was an unreal concept.

  Hoping her panic wasn’t visible, she asked, “Would they be home at this time of day?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I don’t know, but we can find out.”

  Bailey almost begged him to give her time. Maybe this evening, she could say. Or tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded even better. But she guessed he wouldn’t let her out of his sight if he could help it. He suspected her of wanting to bolt, she knew.

  And, oh, he had no idea how much she did want to.

  “You’re so sure?”


  His eyebrows rose again. “That you’re Hope? Yeah, I am. They had a photo of you naked in one of those little kid pools. You were maybe two. Investigators had it blown up because the birthmark was visible.”

  After a moment, she nodded.

  “I’ll remind the Lawsons that DNA confirmation is still a good idea, but that could take weeks. It would be cruel to leave them in the dark. They’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”

  She nodded, wringing her hands beneath the table where he couldn’t see. “First, will you tell me something about them?”

  “Of course I will. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that. Kirk owns an auto body shop and tow truck. He’s a quiet man. I don’t know how much of that has to do with what happened to you, or if he always was. Your mother—Karen—was a schoolteacher. She quit to devote herself full-time to hunting for you. Eventually, she started working part-time, but out of the home. She couldn’t work with children, she said. She does machine-quilting.”

  Bailey blinked. “That’s a big cut in pay.”

  “I get the impression she stays as busy as she wants to.” He hesitated. “Three years after your abduction, they took in a foster daughter and eventually adopted her. Eve is a year younger than you, I believe.”

  So they’d tried to replace her. Bailey wondered how that had worked. If she remembered them, she might be hurt, but as it was, nothing he’d said yet had triggered even the smallest of memories.

  “It turns out I’m a little younger than I thought I was.” She made a face. “We guessed I was at least twelve when he left me. Because of the way I was developing.”

  His gaze flicked to her irritatingly overabundant breasts.

  Men always looked. And she never blushed, although—wow—her cheeks definitely felt warm.

  “Is Bailey what he called you?” the detective asked.

  She shook her head hard. Hard enough her hair clip slipped and she had to reach up to reanchor it. “No. I wouldn’t tell anyone my name. Eventually, they gave up and let me pick my own. I went to court to make it legal once I was an adult.”

  “You know I’m going to want to know that name eventually.”

  She compressed her mouth.

  He took out his phone, his gaze never leaving hers.

  * * *

  SETH SUCCEEDED IN talking her into riding with him to the Lawsons’. She’d wanted to follow him.

  Have her car available for a quick getaway, he suspected.

  But she reluctantly got into his department issue unmarked car and deposited a sizable handbag at her feet. He started the engine to get the air-conditioning going, reached for the gearshift, then let his hand drop. He sighed and looked at her.

  “You know this isn’t going to be as simple as meeting and greeting the Lawsons, don’t you?”

  She eyed him warily. “You mean they’re going to want more from me.”

  “They are, but that isn’t what I’m talking about.” He hated to even raise this subject, given how obviously close to panic she already was, but felt he had to. “Your reappearance is going to be big news. The biggest. The press will flock to Stimson. You’ll be on the cover of People magazine. You will give hope to every parent who lost a child who has never been found. It won’t be a nine-day wonder, either. They’ll keep following up.” Seth knew he sounded brutal. “A week from now, a month from now, a year from now, they will want to hear how your family has healed. How you’ve moved on. They’ll dig for all the details. Paparazzi will try to catch you unawares. You will never live an unexamined life again.”

  As he’d talked, horror had gradually overtaken her face. “Like Elizabeth Smart.”

  “Yes. You, Bailey Smith, will be famous.”

  “Oh, God.” She was shaking.

  Unable to resist, he took one of her fine-boned hands. “Breathe.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “I think you’ve come too far to turn back.”

  Blue eyes fastened on his with a desperation that wrenched his heart. “If I go now—”

  “Do I leave the Lawsons thinking you’re probably dead?”

  “What if I meet them and we don’t tell anyone?” She didn’t seem to have noticed they were holding hands. That she was clutching him.

  “I don’t think that would work.”

  “Why not? You could make it part of the deal. Say I’ll talk to them only if they agree to keep it private.”

  “You have grandparents. Aunts and uncles, cousins. Your parents have friends. Their adopted daughter. I know Karen Lawson. She’s incapable of lying to everyone. She won’t be able to hide her happiness.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “And then there’s your face, Bailey.”

  The way she stared at him, stricken, told him she understood.

  “The stranger that pointed you to the picture. Is this the only person who saw it and noticed the resemblance?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “No. A couple of others have said something.”

  “All it would take is someone getting excited and telling a reporter. Think what a coup it would be. Doing it this way, we have some control over the flow of information. You can give exclusives to reporters who will treat your experience with sensitivity, say ‘No comment’ to everyone else. We’ll hold a press conference, then ask everyone to give you and the Lawsons the privacy you need to come to terms with this new reality.”

  He’d always thought the idea of drowning in someone’s eyes was idiotic. Unable to look away from her, he discovered different.

  “But...my life,” she whispered.

  He had to say this. “Will never be the same.”

  “Oh, God,” she said again. Her struggle to regain her balance was visible. “I should never have told you my name. I could have made one up. Then I could dye my hair. Wear colored contacts. I could still do that,” she said on a rising note.

  He didn’t say anything.

  Defeat flattened her expression. It was a long moment before she nodded. She bowed her head and seemed to notice their linked hands for the first time.

  He gently disengaged them, however reluctant he was to sever the connection.

  “When you called her, why didn’t you tell Mrs. Lawson you’d found me?” she asked suddenly. “They probably think you’re bringing bad news.”

  “Me finding your body wouldn’t have been bad news.” He frowned. “It would have hurt in one way, but been a relief in another. They’d have had closure, at least.”

  “I can understand that,” she conceded.

  “The answer to your question is, I don’t know.” He heard his own uncertainty. “Maybe I just want to see their faces.” And it could be that was the answer. He’d worked hard to effect this reunion. Usually his greatest reward was to make an arrest, then see the jury foreman step up and say, “Guilty as charged.” He hadn’t been able to wall out Karen Lawson’s pain as effectively as he usually did. Seeing her joy—he needed that.

  “Okay.” She sat tensely as he backed out of the slot, then drove across town. The sheriff’s department headquarters was on the outskirts of Stimson, the county seat that still had a population of only thirty-five thousand or so. The Lawsons had never moved from the house they’d lived in when their daughter was snatched. He’d read and knew from experience that was usual. People believed they had to be there when their missing family member magically made his or her way home. There was probably a subconscious fear that, if they weren’t there, everything as much the same as possible, the lost one wouldn’t be able to find them.

  He stole glances at Bailey Smith, sitting marble still and almost as pale, staring straight ahead through the windshield. Scared to death and refusing to show it, he diagnosed. She didn’t like giving away what she felt.

  And him, he kept watching for every tiny giveaway. His heart had taken up an unnaturally fast rhythm from the minute she turned around and their eyes met. He’d felt as if he’d taken a blow to the chest. Attraction multiplied times a thous
and, an unfamiliar hunger to know everything about her, to soothe her fears and heal her wounds, a breathtaking need to protect her—and pounding at him the whole time was terror that she’d walk away before... What?

  I can find out whether she might feel the same. Even close to the same.

  “Here we are,” he said quietly, pulling to a stop in front of a nice two-story white Colonial-style house with dark green shutters. He was willing to bet the Lawsons had never even considered changing so much as the shade of green on the trim when they repainted. Kirk Lawson’s pickup was in the driveway. Lawson’s Auto Body, it said on the door. So Karen had called him to come home, as Seth had suggested.

  Bailey’s head had turned and she stared now at the house where she’d grown up. Her breathing had quickened. She might swear she didn’t remember the house at all, but he wondered.

  Seth turned off the engine but sat there, ready to give her all the time she needed. A minute passed. Two. Mercifully, the front door didn’t open and he didn’t see anyone at the front window. Probably they hadn’t heard the car out in front.

  “You okay?” he asked at last.

  “I...yes.” She drew in a deep breath she probably meant to be steadying. “Yes,” she said again, sounding a little more sure.

  “Ready?”

  Bailey nodded and reached for the door handle.

  He met her on the sidewalk and stayed close on the way to the front door. After ringing the bell, he laid a hand on her back. He’d have sworn she leaned into it, just the slightest bit.

  After the deep gong, he heard nothing until the door swung open. It was Kirk who looked through the screen door at him before switching his gaze to Bailey. Utter shock transformed his rugged face. “Dear God in heaven,” he choked out.

  “May we come in?” Seth asked.

  He pushed open the screen, his gaze devouring Bailey. “Hope?” Then he gave his head a shake. “Come in. Karen!” he bellowed.

  They stepped into the living room. His wife appeared from the direction of the kitchen. She was braced for bad news, Seth saw, in the instant before she set eyes on her daughter, resurrected, and came to a stop.

  And yes, everything he’d hoped to see blazed forth on her face, making him realize that most lines on it had been formed by grief.