Cry No More

by Linda Howard

  Brian did obtuse really well. “What?” he said, looking bewildered. “I’m just trying to help. You know, give you some pointers and stuff.”

  “Really. I didn’t know Neanderthals were fashion experts.”

  He grinned. “A little fur goes a long way.”

  “I’m sure you’d know.”

  Joann caught Milla’s eye and gestured toward Milla’s office. Milla looked and almost groaned aloud when she saw who was waiting for her. Mrs. Roberta Hatcher was searching for her missing husband, who had disappeared one weekend several weeks ago while she was in Austin visiting her sister. Since Mr. Hatcher’s clothing was also missing, as well as his car and half the money in their checking account, the police had correctly concluded foul play wasn’t involved, that Mr. Hatcher had left of his own free will, and there was nothing they could do. She had then turned to Finders for help, and refused to take no for an answer.

  Casting a cautious look at Brian and Olivia—Milla hoped Olivia’s antiviolence philosophy would continue to hold—she stepped into her office and smiled at Mrs. Hatcher. “Good morning, Roberta. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Roberta shook her head. She was a pleasant, graying dumpling of a woman, in her late fifties, with the kind of round, cheerful face that looked most natural when wreathed in a smile. Since Benny Hatcher had disappeared one sunny afternoon, however, her eyes were often red-rimmed from weeping and Milla had yet to see the woman smile.

  If she could get her hands on Mr. Hatcher, Milla thought, she would gladly strangle him. How dare he put his wife through this? If he wanted to leave, he should at least have had the guts and the courtesy to tell her, instead of leaving her twisting in the wind like this. Her heart would still be broken, of course, but at least she would know what was going on, that he was alive, and what her legal status was. She was in limbo, she was suffering, and Mr. Hatcher needed to have his ass kicked.

  “Please help me,” Roberta said in a low, scratchy voice, as if she had cried so much her throat was raw and swollen. Milla knew all too well how that felt. “I know you said he isn’t a missing person, that he walked away under his own power and of his own accord, but don’t you see, I don’t know that, not for certain. What if some con man talked him into something, and now he’s lost all his money and he’s ashamed to come home, or he’s hurt or even dead? I checked into a few private detective agencies like you told me to do, but I can’t afford them. Even the cheapest one is way out of my budget. Please.”

  “I can’t,” Milla said, just as upset as Mrs. Hatcher. “We’re in the same boat you’re in. We don’t have unlimited funding; we pinch every penny and make do with what we have or we do without. Look at this office. You can see we save most of our funds for our searches. The odds are that Mr. Hatcher left you and didn’t have the courage to tell you. How can I justify using our resources to locate someone who almost certainly left of his own free will?”

  “But can’t you check his social security records to find out if he’s working somewhere?”

  “That takes a special subscription service, and we don’t have it. The people we track are lost, not hiding.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to think of a solution. “Have you tried the Salvation Army? They locate lost relatives. I believe it’s a one-time-only free service and I don’t know if they do it under these circumstances, but perhaps they can help.”

  “The Salvation Army?” Roberta murmured. “I didn’t know they did things like that.”

  “They do, but as I said, I don’t know their requirements. If they can’t help you, then please see a lawyer. Do what you can to protect yourself legally.”

  A single tear dripped down Roberta’s cheek. “I haven’t told the children,” she said raggedly. “How do I tell them their father just walked away?”

  She had two sons, both married and with their own children. “You just tell them,” Milla said. “You have to, rather than letting them find out some other way. What if he calls them? Then they’ll be angry at you for not telling them what was going on.”

  “I suppose.” She wiped her cheek. “I guess I keep hoping he’ll come home and they’ll never have to know.”

  “It’s been almost three weeks,” Milla said gently. “Even if he did come back now, would you take him back? Do you still want him?”

  Another tear rolled down. “He doesn’t love me, does he? If he did, he wouldn’t have done this. He couldn’t have. I know I’ve let myself go a tad, but I’m almost sixty and it’s all right to be gray-haired when you’re sixty, isn’t it? Benny always kept himself in good shape, though. And he has only a little gray in his hair.”

  “Could he have a girlfriend?” Milla hated to say it, even though she knew the police had already asked Roberta the same question. At the time, in shock, worried out of her mind and terrified that her life was falling apart, Roberta had automatically rejected the idea.

  Now, however, her face crumpled and she put her hand over her eyes. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “He could have. He played golf almost every day. I never checked up on him. I trusted him.”

  Milla supposed there were people who willingly played golf even in the most searing heat, but every day? She doubted it. And so did Roberta, now that she was seeing things from a different perspective.

  “Please, see a lawyer,” Milla said again. “And change your bank account. I bet you haven’t done that, have you? His name is still on the account. What if he empties it out? What will you do then?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Roberta moaned, rocking back and forth a little in her distress. She began blindly pawing through her purse. Guessing what she needed, Milla pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and pressed it into Roberta’s hand.

  After a few moments of wiping and blowing, Roberta took a deep breath. “I guess I’ve been acting like an old fool these past few weeks. I need to wake up and see what’s what. He left me. I might try the Salvation Army thing, but you’re right: first off, I need to change the bank account and protect what’s left.” Her chin quivered. “I’ll call the boys tonight and tell them what’s happening. I can’t believe he’s done this. Leaving me is one thing, but what about the boys? He’s always had such a good relationship with them. He has to know this will change everything, so I guess he doesn’t care about that, either.”

  Milla didn’t say anything to that, though she suspected that eventually Mr. Hatcher would contact his sons, say he was sorry and so on, and expect everything to be as it was before. Some people simply didn’t see the consequences of their actions, or they figured they could work things out. She didn’t think this could ever be worked out, but it wasn’t her call.

  Roberta’s eyes were red and swollen but her head was up and her stride brisk as she left the office. The door was barely closed behind her when Milla’s phone rang. She punched the button and sank into her chair, feeling exhausted already.

  “This is Milla.”

  “Hi, sweetie. Are you free for lunch today?”

  It was Susanna Kosper, the obstetrician who had delivered Justin at the tiny free clinic in Mexico. Life was funny sometimes; Susanna and Rip, her husband, had liked the Mexican people so much that they had settled in El Paso to practice. That way they were still in the United States but close to the culture they enjoyed. They still made at least two trips a year into different parts of Mexico.

  Susanna made an effort to stay in touch with Milla, and considering an obstetrician’s busy schedule, that was saying something. There was a link between them because Susanna had been in the clinic that awful day, and she and Rip had been part of David’s desperate struggle to save Milla’s life. Sometimes a couple of months would slip by without contact between the two women, because of their hectic schedules, but whenever they could they’d have lunch together. Such plans had to be spur-of-the-moment, but somehow they usually made it work.

  “Unless something comes up,” Milla said. “Where and when?”

  “Twelve-thirty. Dolly’s.”


  Dolly’s was a trendy little café that served chick food and was always busy at lunch, packed with women who wanted something lighter than the usual fare. A few businessmen ate there, but for the most part men stayed far, far away from the dainty chairs and tables in Dolly’s.

  As Milla hung up, Joann stuck her head in the door. “I haven’t mentioned him,” she said in a low voice, and she didn’t have to elaborate. “He called first thing this morning. At least I think it was him. His voice gives me the creeps, and I got big-time goose bumps with this call, so I’m pretty sure who it was.”

  Milla wasn’t even hearing his voice, and her skin roughened with a chill. Absently she rubbed her arms. “What did he want?”

  “He didn’t say. He asked if you were here. I said no, told him what time your flight would be in and what time I expected you, and he hung up.”

  “Did you give him my cell phone number?”

  Joann looked worried. “No. I started to, but I didn’t know if you wanted him to have it.”

  Since he probably already had her home phone and address, thanks to her slipup of using her real name instead of her business name, Milla couldn’t see how giving him her cell phone number could hurt. “I’ll give it to him when I see him again.”

  “See who?” Brian asked from the doorway.

  Their office could use a tad more formality, Milla thought as she looked around. On the other hand, Finders was a partnership of people dedicated to what they did, not a corporation. She was the figurehead and the operational head, but other than that, the structure was very loose, and she had encouraged that feeling. While she might tell Brian about Diaz later—she wasn’t sure how to explain how she had entered into an agreement with a man who was essentially a vigilante, and that was being charitable—she wasn’t ready to tell him now, so she deflected him by changing the subject.

  “Brian, I know you’re only teasing when you start ragging on Olivia, but I’m not certain she knows. I don’t want the office upset—”

  “She knows,” he said, stuffing his fingers into his jeans pockets and grinning at her, that wide, white aw-shucks-I’m-just-a-country-boy grin that he used to keep people off guard. “We’re having fun.”

  “If you say so,” Joann said doubtfully. “From the way things looked a minute ago, you were about to get clocked.”

  “Nah. She’s a pacifist; she doesn’t believe in hitting.”

  “Unless you push her to her limit,” Milla said. “And I think you’re getting close.”

  “Trust me.” He winked at her. “What did you say to Mrs. Hatcher? She looked like a woman marching off to war when she left here.”

  “I convinced her to change her bank account and see a lawyer.”

  “Thank God,” Joann said. “She should have done that as soon as she realized he’d taken half their money.”

  “She wasn’t ready to hear it. The shock had to wear off before she could listen.”

  “I hope he comes crawling back in a few months and finds out she’s divorced his ass,” Brian said. “The shithead.”

  “Amen.” Milla looked at the pile of paperwork on her desk and sighed. “I’m having lunch with Susanna, unless something comes up. Is everything quiet?”

  “Under control. First thing this morning I got a group in Vermont out looking for an elderly lady with Alzheimer’s who wandered away from home, but they found her within the hour. And some college kids hiking in the Sierra Nevada didn’t come home on schedule, so things are getting organized there.”

  “How late are they?”

  “One day. They were supposed to be home last night, but the families haven’t heard from them.”

  “Let’s just hope they have sense enough to stick together.” And that none of them were injured. And that at least one of them had given their itinerary to a parent or a friend. Milla was always amazed at how many people set off into the wilderness without telling someone where they were going.

  She told the staff the news about their new sponsor from Dallas, and the promise of a new computer system, then she settled down to wade through the growing stack of paper.

  An hour later, Olivia stuck her head in the door to ask a question, and Milla took advantage of the opportunity. “If Brian’s teasing gets to be too much, just let me know.”

  “I can handle him,” Olivia said, smiling. “It’s okay, really. He thinks he’s getting a rise out of me and I enjoy busting his chops. When he stops dancing around and works up the nerve to ask me out, I’ll make him forget about big hair and small brains.”

  Ask her out? Milla’s eyes opened wide. Was that what was going on? “He’s ex-military,” Milla blurted. “He’s conservative. He’s macho to the max—”

  “He’s also ten years younger,” said Olivia, the smile widening to a grin. “Sounds good, doesn’t it? I doubt we’ll get around to discussing social issues, but if we do, I can hold my own with him. Who knows? I might convert him to my way of thinking.”

  Bewildered, Milla stared after Olivia as she walked away with a real bounce in her step. Sexual chemistry was an amazing thing. She had to adjust her thinking to see Olivia and Brian together, but in an odd way they meshed, because they were both strong-minded enough that neither could be dominated by the other.

  Well. This had been an interesting morning.

  Lunch with Susanna was as pleasant as usual. Susanna always asked about Finders; from the beginning she had shown real interest and occasionally turned up at fund-raisers. She never pried, never rehashed that awful day when Justin was taken, but she always asked how things were going. If Milla had any new leads, she’d tell her about them, but for the most part she had nothing to tell. Today, she did, but when Susanna asked, Milla just shook her head. Because Susanna sometimes attended fund-raisers, she was in the same general social circle with True Gallagher, and Milla didn’t want to take the chance her friend might say something to him. Even if she asked Susanna to keep the news private, Milla knew it wouldn’t be. Susanna would tell Rip, Rip would tell someone, and before Milla knew it, True would be on the phone raising hell and Diaz would disappear. She couldn’t risk that, so she kept quiet.

  The meal was almost finished when Susanna dipped her spoon into her papaya sorbet and casually asked, “Are you seeing anyone lately?”

  Milla burst out laughing. The rumor mill had certainly been efficient! “If you mean True Gallagher, the answer is no.”

  “That’s not what I hear.” A tiny smile was playing around Susanna’s well-shaped mouth, and her blue eyes were laughing.

  “He asked, I refused. That’s all there is.”

  “I hear he walked you to your car Saturday night.”

  “But that’s all he did.”

  “For goodness’ sake, why won’t you go out with him? He’s a . . .” Susanna paused, and gave a delicate little shiver. “He’s a man, with a capital M.”

  “I know. He’s also one of Finders’ sponsors.”

  “Which means?”

  “That I won’t do anything to jeopardize our funding, whether it’s from True or someone who wouldn’t like the way it looked if I dated one of the sponsors.”

  “You didn’t take a vow of chastity,” Susanna said, annoyed.

  “I know. It’s my own choice. Finders is more important to me than my social life, even if the man in question wasn’t part of our funding.”

  “Is that why you keep breaking up with the guys you date?”

  Milla smiled. “Actually, they broke up with me, not the other way around. And there have really only been two since David and I divorced.”

  Susanna’s mouth fell open. “Two? You’ve dated only two men?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’ve dated, some, when I can. Which isn’t all that often, and not at all lately. But there’ve been only two quasi-relationships. Do you remember Clint Tidemore?”

  “Vaguely. You dated him once or twice.”

  “More than that. He was one of my quasies.”

  “Cute guy.”
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  “Yes, he is. He wanted me around more than I could manage, and I wasn’t willing to delegate, so we parted ways.”

  “You didn’t say anything. I thought he was just a casual date.”

  “There wasn’t any point in rehashing everything when I wasn’t willing to compromise.”

  “But you have to.” Susanna’s gaze turned serious. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to. Everyone compromises. It’s the only way to get along.”

  “Maybe someday,” Milla said. Someday when she’d found Justin, and the devil was no longer flicking his whip at her heels. Until that day, she couldn’t rest, couldn’t let anything else matter to her.

  “Make it sooner rather than later,” Susanna advised as she glanced at her watch and picked up her bill. “I have to run. Appointments start at two.”

  Milla stood also, and they hugged. Then Susanna dashed off, her mind already on work. Milla lagged behind, gathering her bag and leaving the tip, since Susanna had forgotten. Two other patrons got between her and Susanna at the cash register, and when Milla finally emerged from the café, Susanna’s red Mercedes was already two blocks down the street. Milla crossed the street to where she had parked her Toyota SUV, her head down as she searched the bottom of her bag for her car keys. Usually she just put the keys in her pocket, but the slim skirt she was wearing today didn’t have pockets.

  There they were. She was almost at the Toyota when she finally spotted them. She pulled the keys out, looked up, and barely choked back a startled shriek when she almost collided with the man who had appeared out of nowhere and was now between her and her vehicle.

  “I’ve been waiting,” Diaz said.

  9

  “Don’t you know you shouldn’t walk with your head down like that?” he continued, his dark eyes narrowed in the shadow of his hat brim. “And you should always have your keys in your hand before you leave a building.”

  Thank goodness she was wearing her sunglasses, she thought a trifle wildly, so he couldn’t see how her eyes had bugged out with fright. Her heart was still galloping, and a cold sweat had broken out on her skin. She had to stop reacting to him like this, before he realized she practically jumped out of her skin every time he moved a muscle.