by Karen Fenech
None of that was in Jake’s expression now. She resented the intrusion though, just the same. She didn’t care to be under his microscope.
“It wasn’t necessary for you to do a search on Beth,” Clare said. “This isn’t a full scale investigation. We have only one person to interview—the grocery store owner—and then your part in finding my sister is over.”
“It is an investigation, though unofficial, and whether I conduct one interview or dozens, I don’t go into a job without knowing anything about it. You know how I work. If you don’t like my methods, you shouldn’t have accepted my offer of help.”
Clare’s cheeks heated. “My mistake then, in thinking you wouldn’t treat this as a job since it doesn’t involve the Bureau. I thought you were just one old friend helping out another old friend.”
Jake eyed Clare. “Whatever we once were, it was never friends.”
He got to his feet. He tossed a bill onto the table to cover their meals and made his way to the door. Clare watched him go. Her appetite had soured and she left the table also.
Jake was standing on the sidewalk in the shade of the canopy of the diner when she went outside. The muscles in his face were pulled taut in anger. She was plenty angry herself. The sooner she got away from him, the better. She would have liked to send him on his way, and conduct the interview with the store owner herself, but she wouldn’t let anger risk her chance at the information. Jake was her best bet at finding out what she wanted to know.
He glanced her way as she came to stand beside him. “Might as well take one vehicle to the grocers.” His words were clipped. “I’m parked across the street. We can pick up your car later.”
Clare matched his tone. “That would work just as well with me driving. I’m parked right here.” She went to the driver’s side door of her rental. “I need to get to know my way around town. You can direct me as we go along.”
Without giving him a chance to comment, she hit the keyless remote, unlocking the doors, and got in behind the wheel. Jake joined her inside the vehicle.
“Where to?” she asked, cranking up the air conditioning.
“Follow Main. Turn right at the next light.”
The grocery store was a squat building on a large plot of land. Clare parked behind a rusty pickup.
Jake unlatched his seat belt. When she made no move to do the same, he raised an eyebrow at her.
She’d made a decision on the drive over. “Better if you go in alone and talk with Dawson.”
She hated saying that, hated more taking a back seat when it came to Beth, but nothing would be gained from her presence during Jake’s talk with the store owner. If anything, at seeing her, the man might decide not to cooperate at all.
Jake nodded. Clearly, he felt the same. He left the car.
* * * * *
Jake closed the car door with more force than was necessary. Since meeting Clare yesterday, slamming doors was becoming a habit. The short drive from the diner hadn’t cooled his anger with her.
She thought he’d been spying on her by checking out Beth Ryder. Jake’s jaw ached with the force of gritting his teeth together. But that wasn’t all that hurt.
He hurt. After all this time, he could still be hurt by her. No one had the power to evoke such strong emotion in him as she did. To touch him as deeply. The fact that she could still shift the ground under his feet left him feeling weak and helpless.
He stopped for a moment, getting his bearings, bringing himself back to the moment then made his way across the parking lot. Mikey North called out to him.
“Hi, J-Jake,” Mikey said.
The boy was Jake’s next door neighbor. Mikey was fourteen with a scraggly growth of whiskers sprouting between raw acne. He worked Saturday mornings for Dawson Foods and at the moment was pushing a linked row of carts.
“Hey, Mikey.”
The boy fell into step beside Jake.
“C-can I borrow your c-camping gear tonight?”
“Sure. You know where it is. Help yourself.”
“C-cool.”
Mikey bent low over the carts, broke into a trot and moved on to collect another abandoned cart.
Inside the store, only a handful of shoppers walked the aisles. Jake didn’t need to ask where to find Cal Dawson. He spotted him easily at the front of the store. The store owner was crouched in front of a shelf of canned peas.
“Morning, Cal,” Jake said.
Dawson glanced up from the peas. “How you doin’, Jake?”
“At the moment, I could use your help.”
Dawson rose to his feet. He wiped his hands down the sides of the apron tied to his slim waist. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like the name of the driver that delivers your produce, and the company he drives for.”
Jake figured his question would spark a reaction from Dawson, but not the one he got. The man blanched. A fine sheen of sweat coated his brow.
“What would you be wanting to know about him for?” Dawson asked.
“It’s a personal matter, Cal, nothing to do with the store. Can you get that information?”
Dawson’s breathing quickened. “I don’t know it right off. I’d have to look that up. It’s a Saturday. Store’s busy. I don’t have time to go digging through my files.”
No additional customers had entered the store in the last few moments. There was hardly a crowd. Jake nodded slowly to Dawson, wondering at the excuse. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
Dawson cleared his throat. “He hasn’t been here in a week.” Dawson swiped a hand across his forehead. “Company’s got a new guy delivering here now.”
“Okay. I’d still like the name of the company and the driver.”
Dawson’s gaze lowered briefly. When he glanced up, his gaze fixed on something behind Jake. An instant later, his eyes widened slightly and his gaze darted back to Jake.
“That sumbitch,” Dawson said loudly. “Yellow pole cat sneaking off with another man’s wife.”
Jake narrowed his eyes at Dawson’s sudden outburst and the vehemence behind it. He turned to look at what had captured Dawson’s attention. They were in line with the double glass doors that led to the parking lot. Clare was now in plain view. She’d left the car and stood leaning back against the yellow driver’s door.
“Don’t expect he’d have the guts to show his face back in Farley,” Dawson went on. “Haven’t seen him since the day him and Dean’s wife took off together.”
“That so,” Jake said.
“Damn right, that’s so.” Dawson scowled, drawing his brows together.
“I could still use that name, Cal.”
Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. He met Jake’s gaze then averted it. “Etherley Transport delivers some of my stock.” Dawson’s voice sounded strained. “So do Robert’s and McKinnon’s. Not sure which of the three bring in my fruits and vegetables. We get different drivers all the time. I can’t keep track of all their names.”
Perspiration was now trickling down the side of Dawson’s face. He turned and led the way to the back of the store and into his office. The space was small, hardly larger than a closet, but neat. An inbox and a computer sat on the desk. A filing cabinet took up one corner. A copy machine occupied another.
Dawson went to the computer and pressed a few keys. Seconds later, he snagged a sheet of paper from the tray of the copier and held it out to Jake.
Contact information for the transport companies Dawson named were listed on the sheet.
Jake accepted the paper. “Thanks for your help, Cal.”
* * * * *
Clare was still standing by the car when Jake reached it. She pushed off the door.
“What did you find out?” she asked.
“Etherley Transport. McKinnon Transport. Robert Transport. They all deliver stock to Dawson Foods. Dawson claimed he doesn’t remember the names of the drivers.” Jake handed the printout to Clare.
Clare read it. “Okay.” She pushed hair back
from her face. Excitement surged through her. “Looks like I’ll be making some phone calls.” She turned away from Jake then turned back to face him. “Claimed? You don’t believe him?”
“No. I think Dawson knew exactly who I was asking about and for some reason he didn’t want to tell me the man’s name.”
Clare frowned, mulling that over. Why wouldn’t Dawson want to name the driver? He had to know once they had the names of the transport companies, the driver would be easy to trace. The best that Dawson would have achieved was a short delay.
She didn’t know Dawson well enough to speculate, and in truth, his reason meant nothing to her. All she was interested in was finding Beth.
Clare blew out a breath. “Thank you—ah.” She held up the paper. “For this.” And because she didn’t like being in his debt, she added, “If I can return the favor, let me know.”
Jake leveled his gaze on her. “Is it that hard to accept help from me, Clare?” Before she could respond, he held up a hand. “Never mind. Professional courtesy. No thanks necessary.”
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and the tension in his expression eased into a grin.
“Morning, honey,” he said to his caller. “I hope you’re setting everything up for our tea party. I can’t wa—” The smile left Jake’s face. “Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be home in five minutes. Count with me, sweetie. One. Two . . .”
Jake held the phone to his ear and strode to the passenger side door.
Clare joined him in the car.
He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “I need to get home. Turn right at the end of this street then left at the next one.”
She started the car and at Jake’s urgent tone, pressed the gas pedal. In the seat beside her, he continued to count off the time. She overheard a very young girl, her voice choked with tears, repeating the numbers after Jake.
When she reached the street Jake had directed her to, he pointed to a house that was painted two different colors. Parts of the wooden trim and porch were brown, while other parts were yellow.
Clare pulled into the driveway. Jake got out without a word and ran toward the house. Before he reached it, the front door was flung open and a young girl with copper-colored hair spilling out of a loose pony tail and pajamas depicted with pink teddy bears appeared. Clare had no experience with children, but thought it was a good guess that the child was five or six years old.
The girl met Jake on the porch and flung herself into his arms. She had obviously been watching for Jake’s arrival. He scooped her up, holding her close.
Jake had a child?
Was there also a wife?
Clare felt a jab to her stomach at the thought and she yanked her gaze from him and backed the car down the drive. Someone started a lawnmower and the roar drowned out the laughter of a group of children gathered on the sidewalk.
Whatever we once were, it was never friends.
Jake’s words in the diner returned to her. He was right about that. They’d never gotten around to being friends. One moment they’d been colleagues on the job, then lovers, then in over their heads.
That Sunday morning three years earlier came back to her. She’d left her bedroom after she and Jake had made love and when she’d returned there’d been a rose and a ring on her pillow. She’d stared at the ring on the dark blue cotton and joked that the Bureau was paying Jake a lot more than it was paying her.
Jake rose from his reclined position on the mattress and leaned on one elbow, looking up at her. His gaze unswerving, his voice rock-steady, he’d said, Marry me, Clare.
She saw that he was serious and her throat constricted. She gave a little nervous laugh. “Things are wonderful as they are. Why spoil what we have by getting married?”
He left the bed and went to stand in front of her. He cupped one shoulder gently. He raised his other hand and brushed his thumb tenderly over her cheek, tilting her head back so their eyes met. “I want it all,” he said softly. “I want you for the rest of my life.”
Jake was a man who believed in “happily ever after” but she knew better.
Her breathing quickened and she broke out in a cold sweat. “A marriage license won’t make me love you any more.”
“Or any less,” he said.
“Then we don’t need that piece of paper.”
She ran her palms up his bare chest. She followed the path of her hands with her lips . . .
She’d thought the matter settled, but six months later he raised the subject of marriage again. That time she reacted with anger.
No, she didn’t want to get married. Not then. Not ever. She wanted to go on as they were for as long as they wanted to. Until they didn’t want to . . .
She knew a time would come when they wouldn’t want to go on. The end would come. It was inevitable.
Heart pounding, she wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug and waited for his response.
They’d been arguing, shouting, almost in each other’s faces. Jake’s hands, at his sides, had clamped into fists with impotent anger. But at her words, a look of resignation filled his eyes. His rigid shoulders slumped. The anger appeared to drain out of him.
He watched her without blinking, then slowly turned away from her, went to her apartment door and opened it. Head bowed, he stopped on the threshold and stood gripping the frame. Then he walked out.
The memory left Clare feeling raw and hollow now. Her throat clogged with tears. She wiped a tear from her cheek. That she could still feel pain over him humbled her.
She’d given him all she could, and it hadn’t been enough. He’d wanted it all, he’d said. All or nothing and he’d chosen nothing.
She’d been devastated when he’d left her, but she’d gotten over the worst of it and moved on. As apparently had he. Her reaction to him now was brought on by the surprise of seeing him with his child—one more surprise on top of the surprise of meeting him again yesterday. She’d been caught off guard. That was why she was reacting so strongly. If their paths ever crossed again, she would not be affected. God, Clare, just who are you trying to convince? Clare exhaled a slow, tremulous breath.
Unlikely that she and Jake would meet again, however. His role in the search for Beth was over, now that he’d obtained the information from Cal Dawson. Clare would take it from there. She had no need to see Jake again.
She certainly had no business rehashing the past.
She forced her thoughts back to Beth and to her next step to finding her sister.
Her plan was to call the transport companies Cal Dawson had named and inquire which of them delivered produce to the grocery store.
Clare had driven back the way she and Jake had come and was now once again at Dawson Foods. She turned into the parking lot. The rusty pickup she’d parked behind earlier was still where it had been. She pulled in behind it for the second time that day.
She dug the paper Jake had given her, and her cell phone, out of her purse. First on the list was Robert Transport. She placed the call.
An automated system led her through a series of commands to a receptionist.
