by Debra Webb
How could one little boy be so hard to find in such a small town—a place where everyone knew everyone else?
Each hour that Cody remained missing lessened the likelihood of his being found unharmed. Along with most of Paradise’s police force, three teams of local citizens were out looking for him. An Amber Alert had been issued. Cody’s picture had run on the area news channels along with a plea for help in finding him. The chief had assured her there was nothing else to be done—except pray and she’d done plenty of that.
An older model Land Rover that had once been white parked at the curb behind Jill’s Lexus. She drew her thoughts away from the hurt and focused on her rear-view mirror. It was him. About damned time. According to Richard, Dr. Paul Phillips could be the answer to her prayers. As much as she wanted to believe her old friend was right, she’d read too much last night to be encouraged.
Richard hadn’t exaggerated Phillips’ reputation, at least not from the early years of his career as a forensic psychologist with the FBI. His list of solved cases from a decade ago was incredible. Countless families and their hometown law enforcement spokespersons had chalked solving the unsolvable up to Dr. Paul Phillips, the man with the sixth sense. Some had called him a phenomenon. He, apparently, could see and feel beyond the obvious. Richard had called him special and gifted.
That was where the good news ended. Around five years ago, at the very height of his rise into celebrity status, he’d had some sort of breakdown and fallen off the radar, only to resurface as a sort of psychic advisor for hire in Memphis. He took few cases, charged exuberant prices and failed a whopping forty percent of the time. Hit after hit about his being inebriated at a reading or failing to show had infuriated her. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. How could Richard do this to her when she needed his help the most?
Jill watched in her side mirror as Phillips emerged from the SUV. Deep, deep breath. Out of respect for her friend, she would give Phillips an hour. Whatever Richard had paid him to come here, she would gladly reimburse.
Phillips stopped at her door. Asking for ID wasn’t necessary. Richard had given her the make of his vehicle and pictures of him had been splattered all over the web. This was definitely the man…the freak, as some had called him.
Dismissing all else, Jill powered down her window and met his hooded gaze. “I’m Jillian Ellington. Why don’t you join me, Dr. Phillips, and we’ll talk?” She hit the unlock button.
He gave her a negligible nod before starting around the hood. Her heart sank. Even her low expectations had been a little high. The doctor wore jeans that had seen better days and a wrinkled shirt along with a sports jacket likely leftover from his heyday. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and though he’d barely made eye contact, Jill had seen enough hung-over witnesses to know a man suffering from long term alcohol abuse.
Oh God. This was such a mistake and yet it was the only option she had at the moment.
He dropped into the passenger seat. When he’d closed the door, he stared forward rather than looking at her as if anticipating a lecture for some wrongdoing.
Oh yeah. He was just sober enough this morning to feel guilty for being late or maybe for existing. Great.
Just get this done.
“I appreciate your coming all this way.” Since he hadn’t bothered so much as a glance at her, she settled her attention on the row of shops that lined the street opposite city hall. Phillips would certainly demand his full fee whether he was here five minutes or all day. There was no reason for her to regret the four-hour drive from Memphis he’d made at what he no doubt considered an ungodly hour. “I apologize for meeting like this but things are...” What was the proper term for a place that was ones childhood home but where one felt like an uninvited stranger? “Things are tense at my mother’s.”
“No problem.”
His words rumbled through her, made her suddenly uneasy sitting here alone with him in the close confines of the car. Or maybe it was the idea that he seemed unable to muster enough wherewithal to summon a professional response.
As if sensing her dismay, he tacked on, “Your friend explained the situation when he called.”
There was no mistaking the hint of sarcasm and accusation in his tone. Irritation inched its way up her spine. Her friend? “Dr. Lawton is a good friend.” She turned and stared at his profile. “I have a great deal of respect for his opinion.” The Lawton name was a powerful one in the field of law. Just now she needed to bear that in mind.
Phillips hesitated then met her gaze. It was the first time she’d actually gotten a good look at his face. Tension coiled more tightly. The photos on the internet failed to convey the raw edges and hard angles revealed by an up close encounter in the bright light of day. His dark eyes were guarded. His mouth remained set in a grim line, yet his face was attractive in a way that promised carnal acts.
She blinked, cleared the static from her mind and got to the point. “I won’t waste your time, Dr. Phillips. Every squandered moment could mean the difference between finding my nephew alive and” she swallowed in hopes of loosening her throat, “the alternative. Do you believe you can help me or not?”
Whatever his internal reaction to her blunt approach, he kept it carefully checked. Those dark eyes remained unreadable. “They have the murder weapon? Prints?” His tone was hard, impatient.
The urge to cry came swiftly, unbidden, and from a place too deep inside her to touch or restrain. Was he trying to alienate her? “I’m certain you know the answers to those questions the same as I do.”
“Whatever you think you know,” he stared forward once more, “in most cases, it is one of the parents who harms the child. The sooner you face that strong probability, the better off you’ll be.”
Logically she knew he was correct, but with every fiber of her being she believed he was wrong. Her determination rallied. “My sister did not do this. I know she didn’t. At the moment my first priority is finding my nephew. Are you here to help me or not?” Despite the shot of fortitude, the words came out too vulnerable, too brittle.
He turned to her again, stared at her for a stretch of time that felt far too much like forever. Maybe it was the mix of emotions churning inside her or the sheer insanity of the situation but the scent of soap... of well-worn cotton and a hint of tobacco suddenly overtook her, stole her breath.
“I know what you and people like you think of me, Miss Ellington.” He lifted one shoulder in a listless shrug. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But don’t expect me to sugarcoat the obvious.”
As if the band around her chest had suddenly sprung loose, she sucked in a breath. Before she could assimilate a coherent response, he went on, “Just so we understand each other, I don’t take cases like this anymore.” He shifted his attention back to the street. “But I’m here. I’ll have a look and give you my assessment. Then I’m gone.” His gaze fixed on hers once more, jolting her as surely as if he’d touched her. “Does that work for you?”
Frustration beat against her sternum. For a few seconds she had to hold her tongue to prevent telling him to get the hell out of her car. But Richard had sent this guy and, if there was any chance whatsoever that he could help, she needed him. “That is… acceptable.”
At least the messy part was out of the way.
Paul had hoped she would tell him to get screwed and he could get the hell out of here. No such luck. The sooner he took a look at what the local cops had the sooner he was out of here. Couldn’t happen fast enough to suit him.
After this he and Lawton were done. The old bastard had called in his marker and Paul was here.
Five minutes in her presence and already he understood this was going to be bad.
Mostly for him.
The woman said something he didn’t catch, probably just as well, then she got out of the car. He did the same. Get this over with and get on the road. First stop was a chat with the chief of police. It wouldn’t take him long to see what he needed to see.
>
All he had to do was make himself look.
He barely restrained a laugh at the idea of how easy that sounded.
Get your shit together, man.
Jillian Ellington had done her research and she didn’t like what she’d found on the net about him. It wasn’t necessary to ask if she’d read all that crap. The answer was right there in the arrogant tilt of her chin. Well, he’d checked her out too. Graduated at the top of her class from Ole Miss Law School and was immediately recruited by Carlisle, Jacobs, and Teller, the most prestigious law firm in Mississippi. They rarely recruited right out of law School, preferring wisdom gained from experience over knowledge gleaned from textbooks. The offer spoke highly of the uptight lady.
Never been married. On the other hand, the sister, Katherine, had completed her education right here in Paradise at Kessler University, a private school whose national academic standing rivaled its much larger Ivy League counterparts. The sister had stayed in Paradise, accepting a position at MedTech, a huge medical research conglomerate. Four years ago she’d married the CEO, Karl Manning. Together they had a son, Cody.
Claire Ellington, the mother, still lived in the family home. Parker, the father and a long time, highly respected county judge, had died seven years ago. That was the extent of the information available on the Ellingtons. The dead husband, Karl Manning, had grown up in Boston. He’d attended Harvard and after graduation had joined an uncle who was the founder of MedTech. The research facility had garnered a renowned reputation in the area of stem cell research. It was all good. Tidy and forthright.
A quiet little Tennessee town where bad things never happened and peopled with fine, upstanding folks. Yet one had committed murder. And the other—the one in the blue dress that fit like a glove and the high heels that made her almost tall enough to look him square in the eye and with whom he kept pace—appeared to be estranged from her family as well as her hometown. Being here made it difficult for her to breathe. He could feel the anxiety tightening around her. There was something bad hanging over this family.
What the hell was he doing here?
Lawton was way too smart to have called in his marker for a case as blatantly cut and dried as this one. There had to be more. Paul glanced at the woman at his side. She was more than an old friend and student. Paul didn’t need a hit on Google to tell him the old man had a soft spot for the lady any more than he needed a news flash to inform him what her first impression of him amounted to. She distrusted and disliked him. Her conclusions about him radiated from her as thick and oppressive as the heat rising from the asphalt.
Good. No worry that she would beg him to stay.
“Is your chief going to give us any trouble?” Might as well get down to business. A glance at the ME’s report and maybe the crime scene investigator’s report would be useful.
“I’m certain he’ll be cooperative.”
In Paul’s experience most small town cops didn’t like outsiders horning in on their investigations, especially ones that involved high profile citizens. Maybe this one would be the exception. Whatever. All his deal with Lawton required of him was to take a look. Nothing more.
“I’ll want to see everything they’ve got in the way of reports or evidence. Photos. The body.”
Her breath hitched. She tried concealing the reaction by clearing her throat. She wasn’t quite as tough as she wanted him to believe. “I’m sure all that can all be arranged.”
Sounded like the lady wasn’t worried. Maybe her little town would live up to its reputation and prove him wrong. He’d done some research on Paradise too. Southern Living magazine had dubbed it the epitome of southern small town charm. Most of the residents were affluent with deep roots in the community, which was, from all reports, close knit. Though the city was certainly no tourist mecca, the magazine espoused Paradise’s genteel way of life as generating an immediate sense of security and serenity.
Denial burgeoned in his chest, sharp and demanding. He rolled his neck side to side, to relieve some of the sudden tension. Stretched his back... but the heavy feeling in his chest wouldn’t abate. A sense of foreboding made it difficult to draw in a reasonable breath.
It had started.
He gritted his teeth and worked at keeping the crushing sensations at bay.
Just before he entered Paradise proper he’d caught a glimpse of an old abandoned warehouse set back from the main road. The dilapidated structure loomed in the distance, looking like a strong wind would topple it. Despite its fragility, something about it felt potent. The feeling was so gripping he had slowed to look more closely.
There was a story behind that place, one intrinsically tied to this town.
“There’s an abandoned mill or factory just outside town,” he said, drawing Ellington to a stop as she reached the entrance to city hall.
“The old Benford Plant. I don’t know why they don’t tear it down. At one time most of the residents of Paradise depended on that plant for a living. But it shut down more than thirty years ago.” Her eyebrows drew together. “Why do you ask?”
“Curious.” He rubbed the back of his neck, warned himself to keep the darkness at bay until absolutely necessary. “It seemed out of place.” From all appearances, Paradise lived up to its name in spite of whatever setbacks it had suffered in the past. “That must’ve been a real blow to the economy at the time.”
“MedTech, a medical research corporation, and the LifeCycle Center, a state of the art fertility clinic, moved in shortly after that,” she explained, “providing even more and better jobs. Paradise has thrived since.”
MedTech he knew about since Karl Manning had been the CEO. LifeCycle he’d missed. A looming granite structure that reigned over the town housed the MedTech facility. They were proud of the position and power they held in the town.
That uneasy feeling in his chest spread lower, twisting his gut. The air was fresh, cleaner and cooler than in Memphis. The streets were tree-lined, with lots of attractive landscaping and splashes of color from blooming flowers and plants. Very little crime was reported. The Manning murder had likely shaken the town to its foundation. Maybe he was picking up on that uneasiness. A town chockfull of anxiety and burdened by a truckload of uncharacteristic suspicions.
“The chief is waiting.”
When she spoke Paul realized he had stalled at the door. He shook off the feeling of dread that had curled around him the second he entered the city limits. Whatever was nagging at him remained too murky to make sense of just yet.
Inside city hall a sign welcomed visitors with the motto: We’re all family in Paradise. He wondered if they would consider him family after he told them what he wanted to see. He rolled his shoulders again to release his cramped muscles. He purposely kept his gaze away from Ellington. Not that looking at her was a hardship. Silky blond hair and pale blue eyes. There was something about her, besides a damned hot body, that undermined his control on a level he couldn’t quite label. That was a major issue. He could not exist without absolute control. Some aspect of this case… or maybe her… was already splintering his ability to focus.
No matter what she said or what she thought of him, she badly needed him to solve this mystery, find her nephew and absolve her sister of wrongdoing. He might solve the mystery, but he couldn’t absolve her sister. And he damned sure wouldn’t find the kid. He’d helped find the last dead child he ever intended to. Statistics were not on her side where the kid was concerned. He was probably dead, whether by the mother’s hand or the father’s.
Paul wouldn’t go there. Not ever again.
Inside, Ellington greeted the receptionist in the main lobby, then headed down the wide corridor to the right. Paul followed a couple of steps behind. The uneasiness climbed another notch. The warning—too distant to comprehend just yet—started echoing in his brain.
Ellington walked directly to the chief of police’s suite without hesitating or waiting for Paul to catch up. “Good morning, Lucy. Has there been any word o
n my nephew?” Ellington managed a tight smile for the secretary, but her true emotions telegraphed loudly. She was scared. Scared and alone…those were the vibes he got from her.
It was way too soon to have a potential client get to him like this. He shouldn’t be here. His hands shook. He curled his fingers into his palms and ordered the sensation away.
Lucy’s wide, practiced smile dimmed momentarily. “No, I’m sorry, Miss Jill. But don’t you worry, they’re not going to give up. They’ll find him.” Her expression brightened once more as she looked past Jill to Paul, expecting an introduction.
“The chief is expecting me,” Ellington said, drawing the woman’s attention back to her but choosing not to make any intros.
“He sure is.” She flashed a wide smile for Paul. “You and your friend just go right on back. I’ll let the chief know you’re here.”
Paul gifted Lucy with a smile, the one he reserved for making himself memorable in the event he might need future cooperation. In this instance it was a waste of energy since he wouldn’t be staying. A tic snapped into a steady cadence next to his left eye, keeping time with the pulsing tension in his gut.
The corridor was lined with doors on either side. His guide slowed about midway. She took a breath and gestured to the open door farther down. “How should I introduce you?”
He suspected asshole was at the top of her list. “Just get the conversation started and I’ll jump in.”
She nodded, those blue eyes shimmering with the emotions he had sensed her hiding beneath that calm, well groomed exterior. The lady was on the edge. It was tough to watch anyone fall over that ledge, particularly someone like her. She worked hard to ensure no one saw her vulnerable side but she was losing this battle.
