Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

The telephone rang. Melissa went to answer it, but someone banged on the door before she reached the phone. Confusion lining her brow, she moved to the door and checked the window.

  Chief Talbot.

  That old, ugly fear whipped through her, making her shake as she opened the door. “Chief.” She wanted to ask if there was news, but the words wouldn’t form on her tongue.

  The news was bad. His face told the tale before he had an opportunity to say the words.

  “Has there been a new development?” Jonathan asked, moving up beside her at the door.

  The chief braced a hand against the door frame as if the news he had to pass was too heavy a burden to manage without support.

  “It’s Harry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically faint. “He’s in the hospital.”

  A new kind of fear ignited inside Melissa. “Heart attack?” She’d worried about that. She’d known he was having trouble handling the building tension and worry. Dear God, she should have seen this coming and done something.

  Chief Talbot shook his head. “I’m sorry, Melissa, but he...” A weary sigh escaped his lips “He apparently attempted to kill himself.”

  “What?” Not Harry. He would never do that. “That can’t be right,” she argued.

  “I’m afraid so. He left a note saying he was sorry.”

  Her uncle had tried to commit suicide? He’d left a note? That was impossible. He wouldn’t leave them this way.

  “William is at the hospital with him now.” The chief shook his head. “He’s in grave condition, Melissa. The prognosis isn’t good.”

  She didn’t remember getting into the car. The next thing she knew she and Jonathan were on the way to the hospital. A neighbor had come to stay with Presley and to field any calls to the house.

  Melissa closed her eyes. She couldn’t take any more. The idea of losing Polly was horrendous enough, but not Harry, too.

  This couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday, May 30th, 8:01 a.m.

  Jonathan stood in the corridor of the Intensive Care Unit. Melissa had been allowed in Harry Shepherd’s cubicle for ten minutes every three hours.

  They’d been up all night.

  Melissa refused to leave the hospital. William had rejoined the search for his daughter at daybreak this morning. Presley, his wife, was in the care of friends of the Shepherd family.

  At this point, no one was considered safe from whatever was going on. Three men had been murdered, assuming Harper’s death hadn’t been an accident, and Harry Shepherd appeared to have attempted suicide.

  Since the forensics wasn’t back yet and despite the two word note he’d left, an official conclusion could not be reached. There was a chance someone had wanted his death to look like a suicide.

  No matter that Jonathan’s instincts leaned toward the idea that the man had wanted to take his own life, he wasn’t taking any chances. He would not allow Melissa out of his sight. Leaving the hospital without her was out of the question.

  The team dragging the river had called off the search at dark last night, but had resumed this morning for a final go over. Polly had not been found. Jonathan felt a massive sense of relief at that news. Melissa’s family had just about reached their limit on bad news.

  He closed his eyes and let the memory of last evening’s lovemaking whisper through his mind. Most of his adult life had been spent focused on his career. Women came and went with the job and the location. No one had ever managed to keep a hunk of his heart.

  The idea rattled him hard. He didn’t try to push it away. It was the truth and that was the one ideal he’d always clung to. Truth, honor, courage, those words meant a great deal to him. Honestly, three years ago Melissa hadn’t needed a man like him, nor did she now. Emotionally, he was a mess.

  The military had done that for him. Not the military, really, but the powers that be. The ones who had made the final decisions, based more on political gain than on the greater good. All the while he’d watched his men die, the powers that be were finagling a new deal—one which negated the operation for which those men had given their lives.

  Jonathan had sworn that he would never commit on an emotional level to anyone besides himself after that. He did his job, completed his assignments and went home—wherever home proved to be. There would be no attachments.

  Then he’d met Melissa.

  Bit by tiny bit, she’d taken a part of him. She’d given of herself completely, unconditionally and unrestrained. And he hadn’t been able to cut it. He’d left her hanging by her heart.

  He didn’t deserve her forgiveness and he damned sure hadn’t deserved her trust the way she’d given it last night. Hurting her again was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe, just maybe, if he helped bring her niece back home safely, he would have earned all that Melissa had given him.

  Finding Polly alive might just be impossible. But he had to try. For the child and for Melissa.

  As if his thoughts had summoned her, Melissa appeared in the corridor. She looked tired and desperate for relief. Still she was so beautiful, Jonathan’s chest ached. He’d never known anyone as beautiful, inside and out, as she was.

  “How is he?” Only immediate family was allowed to see the patient or to be informed of his progress.

  “He’s still in a coma.” Melissa brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand. “The chances of him surviving without massive brain damage are...” her voice broke “...practically nonexistent.”

  Jonathan didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  She held on to him, making him ache all the more for his helplessness. “I don’t understand why he did this.” She drew back and shook her head. “He’s not the sort of man to do such a thing. I know he’s devastated by Polly’s disappearance, but we all are.”

  She swiped at her damp cheeks. “I can’t even begin to accurately gauge how William must feel. And Presley.” She shrugged. “Uncle Harry has always been a rock. I don’t understand.”

  Jonathan needed to get her out of here for a while. She was exhausted, but there were people he wanted to see, questions he needed to ask. “You need a break.”

  She looked back toward her uncle’s room. “I don’t know about leaving.”

  “They have your number, right?” He slowly ushered her toward the elevator.

  A hesitant nod was her only response.

  “They’ll call if there’s any change.” Since there was little chance of Harry waking up, her vigil here wouldn’t help him. But there were things they could be doing to help find Polly.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Your uncle would want us working on finding Polly.” Jonathan didn’t know the man very well but he felt certain that was the case. “I’ve been thinking about a couple of scenarios the chief may have overlooked.”

  The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside, thankfully alone.

  “You have?”

  She looked at him with such desperation, it clawed at his chest. He nodded, not sure of his own voice just now.

  “Anything we can do is better than nothing,” she murmured wearily.

  Jonathan hated the idea of dragging her around to interview the new list of persons of interest he’d developed. But he wasn’t about to leave her side. Not again. He’d taken that risk yesterday, but no more.

  “Where are we going first?” she asked as the elevator lit on the lobby level.

  “To see Johnny Ray Bruce.” After the way he had blackmailed Presley, Bruce was capable of most anything.

  Surprise flared in Melissa’s eyes. “Isn’t he still here, in the hospital?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “He was released last night.”

  She appeared to mull over the idea as they made their way to her car. When he opened the passenger door she hesitated before climbing inside. “Why are we talking to Johnny Ray?”

  “Go
od question.” He gestured for her to get in. When she did, he closed her door and moved around to the driver’s side. After settling behind the wheel and starting the engine, he explained, “Johnny Ray was with Presley that night. He must have picked her up and taken her home since her car remained at the house all night. That’s why the chief bought her story about not leaving home the night Polly disappeared.” One of Presley’s neighbors had confirmed that Presley’s vehicle was home that night.

  “True.” Melissa snapped her seat belt into place.

  “Johnny Ray may have seen something that felt irrelevant at the time but could be far more significant than he realizes.”

  In actuality, Jonathan intended to push him for information. He had known the Shepherd family his whole life. Maybe if something was going on between Harry and the chief’s wife, he would have heard about it. The guy struck Jonathan as the type to keep himself in the know about secrets—especially those people desperately wanted to hide. Considering the chief was his uncle, that knowledge could have proven particularly beneficial.

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Melissa confessed. “I’m sure the chief didn’t question him since he was unaware that Presley left the house.”

  “We have a bit of an advantage,” Jonathan acknowledged. Presley’s coming clean may have given them the break they needed. His next stop after Johnny Ray’s place was Scott Rayburn’s office. “Did Rayburn have a secretary?”

  “He did. Frances O’Linger.”

  “Good. We’ll need to speak to her, as well.”

  Melissa turned to him. “You think she may know something?”

  It was a stretch, but it was definitely possible. “She may not know anything specific but she may have overheard a conversation or read a note.” Jonathan pulled out onto the deserted street. “Who knows, maybe Rayburn left a journal or notes on his delusions. We won’t know for sure unless we ask.”

  Melissa nodded. “Good points.”

  * * *

  THE DRIVE TO JOHNNY RAY’S residence took less than ten minutes. His car sat in the driveway. If Jonathan was lucky the guy would be in a pain medication fog and considerably more cooperative.

  A couple of knocks were required to get Johnny Ray to open the door. He looked every bit as woozy as Jonathan had hoped. His face showed the evidence of a serious butt-kicking.

  Johnny Ray swayed forward and scanned the yard. He blinked, tried several times to focus on Melissa. “That brother of yours isn’t with you, is he?”

  “No,” Melissa said with absolutely no sympathy. “He’s out searching for his missing daughter.”

  “Oh.” Johnny Ray swayed back on his heels.

  “We need to speak with you in private,” Jonathan informed him.

  The man’s eyebrows hiked up his forehead. “I don’t know if I want you in my house.” He shook his head, staggered back a step for his trouble. “Those Shepherds are nothing but trouble for me. My uncle has already threatened to haul me in if there’s any more trouble.”

  Jonathan resisted the urge to tell him that he should have thought about that before he slept with another man’s wife, repeatedly. “We’ll only take a few minutes of your time. Your uncle isn’t going to find out.”

  “Whatever.” Johnny Ray turned around, braced against the wall for support and made his way to the nearest chair. “Have a seat.”

  His place was trashed. Not that it had been that organized or clean before, but this morning it appeared as if the man had had a party last night and the whole town had dropped off their dinner and drink remains in his living room.

  “What do you wanna talk about?” he asked when both Melissa and Jonathan were seated. “As if I didn’t know,” he added with a drunken eye roll.

  “The night Polly went missing,” Jonathan began, “you picked Presley up at the house, then dropped her off. Is that correct?”

  Johnny Ray bobbed his head up and down. “Will wasn’t home so she came right out the front door and went back in the same way.” He picked up a pack of cigarettes, dropped it, then picked it up again.

  “Approximately how long was she away from the house?” Jonathan felt Melissa fidgeting next to him. He hated for her to hear this, but he didn’t want her out of his sight for any reason.

  “An hour I guess. Maybe less.” Johnny Ray lit the cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. He leaned forward and picked up a beer and chugged a long swallow. “We spent most of that time fighting.”

  “About what?” Jonathan waited patiently for him to set the can of beer back on the table and make eye contact. “About what?” he repeated.

  “The fact that she refused to tell Will the truth.” He shifted his attention to Melissa. “She’s been lying to him for years. I keep telling her to just do the right thing and end their farce of a marriage.”

  Fury tightened Melissa’s features. “You would know all about doing the right thing.”

  Johnny Ray stared at her, blinked, then turned to Jonathan. “You see. Even if I try to do the right thing I don’t get any respect.”

  Jonathan wasn’t going down that path. He’d come here to get answers not to tick him off and walk away with nothing. “Why doesn’t Presley want to do this thing you believe is right?” he asked. “Maybe she loves her husband.”

  “Yeah, right.” Johnny Ray snorted. “That would be why she likes doing it—if you know what I mean—with me more than she does him. She says there’s no passion between them,” he sneered.

  That Melissa didn’t throw something at the guy was a miracle. “So,” Jonathan ventured, “the two of you have continued to see each other the whole time Presley and Will have been married.”

  “Pretty much.” This time when he reached for the beer he knocked it off the table. He swore a few times, then kicked the can across the room and turned his attention back to his cigarette.

  “Did she say anything recently about wishing she’d never had Polly?”

  Melissa stared at Jonathan. Though he didn’t turn toward her he felt the heat of her glare on him. But the question was necessary.

  “Nah.” Johnny Ray put his feet on the coffee table. “She didn’t really want to be a mother, but she loves the kid the best she knows how.”

  “No other vehicles were parked near the house when you picked her up or dropped her off that night? You saw no sign of anything out of the ordinary?” Jonathan doubted the man had paid any attention, but this was the only way to find out. He insisted Presley had exited and then reentered the front door, yet the back door was the one found unlocked and open the next morning.

  Several tense moments elapsed with Johnny Ray mulling over the question. “Nope, I can’t say that I noticed anything. Most of the neighbors were probably in bed. I looked around for Will’s truck but I didn’t pay attention to anything else being out of place. I’d probably have noticed, though, since we were sneaking around, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Jonathan braced for an explosion from Melissa. She wasn’t going to like this one. “Has Presley ever mentioned William regretting having a child?”

  Surprisingly, Melissa sat stone still. Maybe she was in shock at his audacity.

  Johnny Ray shook his head. “Will loves that kid more than he loves anything else—including Presley. She gets a little jealous about that sometimes.”

  Interesting. “Do you know of anyone else who would want to see William or Presley hurt?” If the missing child wasn’t for ransom or trafficking, there had to be another motive. Hurting the family was at the top of the list in Jonathan’s opinion.

  “Well,” Johnny Ray drawled, stretching out in his chair, “since you ask, I’d have to say Scott Rayburn.”

  “Scott Rayburn is dead,” Jonathan reminded him.

  “Yeah. Died at that old shack where the kid was being held, the way I heard it.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Melissa might not agree with me on this,” Bruce continued, “but I always knew that Rayburn had a thing for Will.” He gave Jonathan
a knowing look. “You know the kind of thing I mean.”

  Jonathan nodded.

  “But this is a small town. Folks don’t go in for that, especially his momma and daddy. Rayburn wasn’t about to risk his inheritance.” He shoved his cigarette butt in the nearest beer can. “Frankly, I’m not surprised he was involved with this somehow. He would’ve liked nothing better than for Will and Presley to split up. With the kid out of the picture I guess he figured he’d have a better shot at making his lifelong dream come true.”

  “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Melissa said, her voice tight.

  Jonathan imagined the real meltdown would come later, when they were out of Bruce’s house. She would let him have it then. “Are you speculating,” Jonathan pushed, “or do you have proof of this accusation?”

  “Let’s just say I noticed the way Rayburn looked at William. He idolized the guy.” Johnny Ray spat out another of those crude snorts. “Don’t for the life of me see why, but I know what I saw. Back in school some of us used to rib Will about his secret admirer.”

  “Then you believe Rayburn was in on the abduction?” Jonathan pressed.

  “Maybe, maybe not, but he damned sure knew about it. He couldn’t have walked right up on the holding place.”

  “What about Price?” Jonathan asked. “Do you believe Rayburn was working with Price?”

  “It’s doubtful,” Johnny Ray said with expanding self-importance. The drugs had obviously kicked in full gear. “Scott thought he was above working with what he considered lesser life-forms. To him Stevie was pretty much a worm or something.”

  Melissa didn’t defend Price as she had before. Didn’t take a psychology degree to analyze her reason. Price had had something to do with Polly’s abduction.

  “Someone else was involved,” Jonathan went on. “The shooter who killed Rayburn and Price. Any guesses on that one?”

  “My uncle figures Rayburn shot Price, since the shotgun they found in the river belonged to him.”

  This was news to Jonathan. He wasn’t aware the weapon had been retrieved.

  Johnny Ray put his hand over his mouth. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell that to anyone.”