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She swallowed hard. “Who else have you had a chance to talk to?”
“Some of the other neighbors, but no one seemed to notice anything odd that day—until you called the cops and they swarmed the neighborhood. I’m still trying to track down a few people I haven’t gotten in touch with, people who’ve moved out of the neighborhood, but there aren’t many. I want to question every neighbor who was within sight of your old front yard.”
“I already did that, but maybe a new person asking even the same questions will spark something that’ll produce different answers.” One could hope. “A couple of hours after Lucy disappeared, I remember the detective, Frank Miller, coming out and questioning everyone even though the uniformed officers had already done it.” She finished off her last slice of pizza. “I watched him go house to house. I even followed him to see if I could listen in and learn anything.”
“Did you?”
“No. In fact, he was mad when he caught me. Told me to go on home and let him do his job. I remember smarting off to him and telling him he must not be much of a detective since my sister was still missing.” Jordan winced and she nodded. “Yeah, he wasn’t too happy with that.”
“I guess not.”
“I still see him around the precinct every once in a while. He goes out of his way to avoid me.”
“Detective Frank Miller. I spoke to him, too. He feels bad about not finding Lucy. It’s obvious that talking about the case brings back unpleasant memories, a sense of failure.” Jordan flipped the page in his notebook. “He’s forty-five years old now. Your sister’s case was one of his first, but his partner, Danny Jackson, was a veteran.”
“I talked to him last year, too. He retired a few years ago.”
“He was close to retirement fourteen years ago. He said your sister’s is one of the cases that still haunts him.”
“So did talking to them help? Because it didn’t do much for me. He’s very gruff, but I don’t think I should take it personally. I think it’s just how he is.”
“He was gruff with me, too. And I’m not sure if talking to him helped. He basically told me to mind my own business. I’m still going through the file and all their notes.” He tapped the notebook against his palm and studied the woman across from him.
She intrigued him and while he didn’t want it to be so, it was. For the first time in a long time, he was attracted to someone. Interested in getting to know her on a deeper level than just a working relationship.
And it had to be someone he couldn’t pursue. He pictured his parents’ reaction if he were to announce that he was seeing the woman they blamed for their younger son’s death.
And winced.
No, unfortunately, Katie Randall was off-limits.
* * *
Her phone rang and she snagged it. “Hello?”
“Ms. Randall, this is Deep Clean Services. I just wanted to let you know we arrived at your house about seven-thirty this morning and will be done in about an hour.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
She made payment arrangements, hung up and told Jordan the news. “Guess that means Mariah and I can go home.” She frowned. “Strangely enough, I’m mourning the Christmas tree the most.” Katie sent a text to her roommate to let her know, then turned back to the file. “All right. What else is in here?”
Katie moved over to sit beside Jordan in the booth so they could see the file without one of them having to try and read upside down.
Sitting beside him, she noticed his cologne once again, the strength that emanated from him. His warmth. She shivered at being so near him and swallowed hard. An attraction to this man was just not an option. And yet no matter how much her mind protested, her heart had decided to take matters into its own hands.
Focus. Focus. “You know I got this file from the department and copied everything in it. I used to study it at night when I couldn’t sleep.” Which had been often.
They scanned the notes, turning the pages one by one. A small slip of paper, stuck to the back of the sheet she’d just been reading, caught the edge of her fingernail and fell off. Katie picked it up. “What’s this?”
Jordan took it from her. “Looks like an address.”
“It was stuck to the back of this. Looks like there’s food or something on it.” She scraped the mess off with her fingernail. “How did I miss this?” she muttered. She knew how. She’d been in a hurry to get the file copied before her boss caught her once again working her sister’s case and had returned the original file without seeing the small slip of paper. “Let’s see where the address is.” She grabbed her phone and punched it in the GPS app. She looked up at him. “It’s a place called Jake’s Diner. About thirty miles away, in Anderson.” Katie bit her lip. “Why would this be in here?”
“It’s a sticky note. Probably Frank or Danny answered the phone and wrote it down. Is there anything else with that information on it?” he asked.
They flipped through the file again. Twice. Katie shook her head. “Nothing.”
Jordan rubbed his chin. “Feel like a road trip?”
She stood. “Definitely. Let’s go.” Katie headed for the cash register and Jordan followed.
At the door, he said, “I’ll get the car. You pay.”
She gaped at him. He widened his eyes, the picture of innocence. “What? I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to turn this into a date or anything.”
Katie felt the flush start at the base of her throat. “Cute, Gray. Real cute.”
He winked. “I’ll get the next one.”
FOUR
Jordan gave himself a mental smack upside the head as he pulled his car around. Mere minutes ago, he’d reminded himself that an attraction to Katie was not a good thing, and then he’d turned around and deliberately flirted with her. What was he thinking? He sure didn’t want to give her the wrong idea.
Or the right idea. That he was interested in her. Because that interest could go nowhere as long as his parents blamed her for Neil’s death. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Lord, I’m going to need Your guidance on this one.
He could see Katie inside paying. His phone rang and when he saw his father’s number on the screen, guilt swamped him. Swallowing it back, he hit the talk button. “Hi, Dad.”
“You busy, son?”
“Working a case, but I’ve got a couple of minutes. What’s up?”
“You mother wanted me to call and invite you to dinner Sunday night. Can you make it?”
Jordan ran through his schedule in his head as Katie walked toward him. She climbed in, and he said, “I can make it.”
“Great. Around five-thirty?”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll be there.”
Katie buckled her seat belt and checked her phone.
Jordan hung up. Katie looked at him. “Your dad?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded.
“What are your parents like?” he asked. She blinked and a deep sorrow crossed her face. Then she smiled. A smile so forced it nearly broke his heart.
She sighed. “They’re good people. I get along better with my father than my mother.” The smile slid off. “Ever since Lucy’s disappearance, she’s battled depression, has trouble getting out of bed most days.” She shrugged and looked out the window. “People in their church have tried to reach out and help, but she doesn’t respond much.”
“I’m sorry.” Jordan cranked the car and made a mental note not to go there again.
“Thanks. I am, too.” She looked back at him and he could make out anger mixed with the sorrow. Then she lowered her gaze. “Is it wrong that I get really angry with her sometimes?”
Her voice was so low he had to strain to make out the words. “No. I can imagine fourteen years of depression would be very tiring.”
“It’s not just that. I don’t even know that she can help it, but I needed her, too—” She flushed and shook her head. “Never mind.” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Speaking of my mother—” She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a number. “Hi, Mom.” Jordan heard the woman’s muffled answer, then Katie said, “Your dinner is being delivered. They’re coming around five-thirty, all right?” She listened a moment. “No, Mom, you won’t have to worry about washing or returning any pans. They’ll all be disposable, okay? I hope you enjoy it.”
More indistinguishable words and then a sigh from Katie as she said goodbye and hung up.
He couldn’t help it. “What was that about?”
“Dad called me the day before yesterday and said my mom had a doctor’s appointment today. My partner’s sister, Christi, has a catering business. I asked her to deliver dinner to my parents tonight so they wouldn’t have to worry about it. In all the excitement, I forgot to let them know.”
“That’s really thoughtful.” Jordan eyed her.
She shrugged and flushed. “I don’t know if thoughtful is the right—” She bit the words off and nearly chewed a hole in her lower lip.
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
But it was, he could tell. However, he dropped the subject as he turned in to the parking lot of Jake’s Diner. Dropped it, but didn’t forget it. The woman intrigued him, and he wanted to know what it was she hadn’t said. But that would wait.
They climbed from the vehicle, tugging their coats tighter against the wind. Katie walked at a fast clip toward the door and Jordan followed her.
The diner looked like a throwback to the fifties. A well-preserved throwback. With her hand on the door handle, Katie said, “Nice.”
“Yeah. How come I didn’t know about this place?”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard it mentioned in conversation, but never bothered to drive out here. I’ll have to make sure I do that sometime soon. Just for fun.”
“Maybe I’ll come with you.” He gave her a slow smile and she flushed.
Then lifted her chin. “Maybe I’ll let you.”
Cars zipped past on the highway. Several slowed and turned in.
One slowed almost to a stop in the middle of the road, catching Jordan’s attention. “Look.”
Katie looked. The car sped up and was soon gone from sight. She frowned. “What do you think that was all about?”
“I have no idea, but I’ve got the make and model.”
They entered the diner and walked up to the bar area. Multicolored lights hung above and blinked in time with the Christmas carol coming from the speaker to her right.
Katie slid onto one of the silver, red-cushioned stools and Jordan sat beside her. For a few minutes, they watched the waitress scurry about taking orders, her red-and-white hat tipped with a bell that jingled at every shake of her head. Now she stood in front of Katie. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a coffee.”
Jordan said, “Same here.”
Katie pulled out the picture of her sister that had been splashed all over the news when she’d disappeared fourteen years ago. When the waitress came back with their coffee, Katie eyed her name tag and asked, “Celia, how long have you been working here?”
Celia tilted her head and lifted a hand to hold the hat in place. She snapped her gum and said, “About six years now, I guess.”
“Is there anyone that’s been here for at least fourteen or fifteen years?”
“The owner. Been here twenty-seven years, as she likes to remind us on a regular basis.”
“Who’s the owner?”
“Betty June Clark.”
“Is she here?”
“Somewhere.” Her gaze darted to the newcomers walking in.
Katie flashed her badge. “You mind telling her we’d like to ask her a couple of questions?”
Now she had Celia’s full attention. With wide eyes, she backed toward the kitchen. “Hey, Betty! You got company out here.”
“Thanks,” Katie said and sipped her coffee. Jordan dumped three things of flavored creamer into his. Katie nearly choked when he took the silver-topped sugar jar and dumped at least the equivalent of ten tablespoons into the steaming brew. “You like a little coffee with your cream and sugar, huh?”
He grinned and took a sip. “Yep.”
In the mirror on the opposite wall, Katie watched the crowd behind her. She normally liked to sit with her back to the wall, but the place was packed and with the mirror she felt a little less like a target.
A woman in a black skirt, navy blue button-down shirt and white tennis shoes came from the kitchen. She eyed Jordan and Katie with wary curiosity. “Can I help you?”
Katie introduced herself and Jordan and studied the pretty woman. “You don’t look old enough to have been here twenty-seven years.”
Betty’s tension lightened. She smiled. “Started working here when I was sixteen. I’m forty-three now. Took over when my daddy retired seventeen years ago.”
Jordan asked, “Do you remember a local kidnapping case fourteen years ago? Lucy Randall?”
Betty stilled and her brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. “I remember. Very well, actually. Was all over the news for weeks.”
“That’s the one.”
Betty nodded. “My baby sister was the same age as Lucy when it happened. That kidnapping has haunted me and my family for more reasons than one.”
Katie perked up as her blood started to hum in anticipation. “Why’s that?”
“Because I believe Lucy and her kidnapper stopped here to eat.”
Katie jerked and felt the blood drain from her face. That would be a good enough reason for the woman to recall the details so clearly. “Why do you say that?”
“The guy had on a baseball cap and sunglasses and didn’t take them off the whole time they were in here. The little girl’s hair was whacked off like it had been done in a hurry without any care for style. When I cleaned the bathrooms, I saw a few strands of hair that looked like the same color as hers around the toilet in the men’s bathroom. Our floor is dark wood. That hair stood out. And besides, that little girl just wasn’t acting right.”
“How was she acting?”
“She was jumpy and scared. At least that’s what I thought.”
“What color was her hair?” If it stood out against a dark floor, Katie had a good idea what the answer was.
“Blond. That fine white blond that comes naturally to the lucky few.”
Katie swallowed hard. Lucy had had that kind of hair. Katie’s hair was blond, too, but not like Lucy’s. Lucy’s had been so blond it had almost been white.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Katie forced the words past the lump in her throat.
“I did.”
“You did?” Katie stared.
Jordan jumped in. “What happened?”
“They came out here, and I told them the same thing I told you.”
“Did they get a crime scene unit over here?” Katie asked. She hadn’t seen anything in the file to indicate one had checked the place out. At the very least, they should have gotten a sample of hair to compare to something of Lucy’s—like a piece of hair from her hairbrush.
At the very least.
“No. It was just a couple of detectives who came out and asked a few questions. One looked at the bathroom, the other talked to me for a few minutes. When the one in the bathroom came out, he just said he’d be in touch if he had any more questions.”
Katie drew in a deep breath and exchanged an incredulous look with Jordan. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. His napkin fluttered to the floor. He and Katie bent at the same time to retrieve it.
A crack sounded. Betty screamed as the sugar jar in front of Jordan exploded.
* * *
Jordan spun, grabbed his weapon even as he ducked for cover. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Katie doing the same. Another blast came from outside the diner and hit the mirror over the bar. Katie screamed, “Get down! Get down! Call nine-one-one!”
The deafening chaos surrounding him, Jordan hit the floor, then scrambled to one of the unoccupied booths. Betty yelled into her cell phone as she crouched behind the bar.
A squeal of tires, a burst of horns and one sickening crunch followed by two more sent Jordan racing for the door of the diner. Katie followed. Outside, he saw the wreckage on the busy road. Katie turned to the patrons and hollered, “Everyone stay back and stay away from the windows!”
“You see him?” Jordan asked, scanning the area even as he moved toward the pileup. A car peeled away.
“There he goes!” Katie yelled.
“He’ll just have to go,” Jordan said between clenched teeth. “We’ve got to make sure no one’s hurt. Come on.” He got on the phone and called in the direction the shooter was heading.
A woman stumbled from the three-car wreck, holding her bleeding head. “He stole my car!” Katie bolted over. She gripped the young woman by her upper arms and led her away from the vehicles. “He had a gun and he hit me with it.”
The woman’s tears flowed while Jordan called back to let them know the vehicle was stolen. “I need CSU here, too.”
Kate settled the distraught woman on the curb. She looked to be in her early twenties. Petite and soft. Defenseless. An easy target. “What’s your name?” Katie asked.
“Miranda.”
“Did you get a good look at him, Miranda?”
“No. He came from behind and pulled me out. I never saw his face. But he had a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol in his right hand. I saw those real clear.”
“Stay here.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Jordan left Katie with Miranda and went to see who else needed help. He asked a young woman with a toddler strapped into a car seat in the back of her minivan, “Are you all right? Your child?”
Oh, Lord, please, not a child.
But the woman nodded as she unbuckled the crying little one, her scared, pinched features doubling his determination to catch the person who’d caused this.
An older gentleman in a gray Taurus held his neck. Jordan jogged over to him. “Sir? Don’t move, help’s on the way.”
“I’m all right. Did you see that idiot? Pulled right out of the parking lot and wrecked his car, then stole another one.”
“You saw him?”
“Clear as day.”
“What’s your name?”
“Bobby Young.”
“We’ll get you checked out and then I’ll need to get a statement from you, all right? We’ll want you to meet with a sketch artist, too.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever I can do to help catch that maniac.”
Four police cruisers pulled into the area, blue lights flashing. Two officers made their way to him, and Jordan flashed his badge then gave them a rundown on what he’d done.
“We’ll take it from here. Thanks.”
Three ambulances arrived, and the paramedics got to work.
Jordan found Katie taking statements and keeping people clear of the wreck. She glanced at him. “CSU on the way?”
“Yes, along with everyone else.”
Three fire trucks screamed onto the scene. Katie nodded. “Good.”
Jordan knew he might be overstepping his bounds. Technically, while he was employed with the FBI, the FBI didn’t handle car wrecks or local shootings, but he figured since one of those bullets came mighty close to having his name on it, he’d just work as though he belonged there. At least until someone told him otherwise.
Katie grabbed his arm to get his attention in all the chaos. She held up her phone. “Just got a call. He got away. They can’t find any sign of him anywhere.”
Jordan nodded. He wasn’t surprised.
The crime scene unit van pulled into the diner parking lot. Jordan followed Katie and waited as the vehicle parked on the edge of the lot.
* * *
Katie watched Faith Nelson climb from the van. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What happened?”
Katie filled her in as the woman grabbed her gear from the back of the van. To help process the scene, Faith had brought three of her team. Two headed for the diner; Faith and her other coworker started in the parking lot. “Where was he parked?”
“I’m not sure.” She pointed to the street where Jordan directed traffic around the crunched vehicles. “But he ended up in that wreck before he stole another car that wasn’t involved in the accident.”
Faith delegated assignments to her team and headed over to the shooter’s vehicle. Katie followed. Jordan tucked his phone in his pocket and looked at her. “The car’s stolen.”
“Naturally.”
Faith shrugged. “I’ll do the best I can do here. Will be able to do more once we get it to the lab.” She glanced at Katie. “I’ll have Mariah work on it.”
Katie nodded. “Thanks.”
The crime scene photographer had his work cut out for him between the wreck and the diner. She noticed he had someone with him to help. For the next two hours, Katie worked the scene and listened as Jordan offered his opinion and expertise. He kept a low profile and didn’t try to take over, although he might have wanted to. That bullet had come awfully close to his head. If she hadn’t dropped her napkin—
“You ready to get out of here?”
Jordan’s low voice cut into her thoughts.
“I’m ready.”
Katie looked back at where the wreck had been. Broken bits of glass that had escaped the sweep-up were the only sign of the chaos from just a few hours earlier. The diner was another matter—crime scene tape and broken windows were evidence of the reality of what had happened.
She climbed into Jordan’s truck and put on her seat belt. He said, “The car that the shooter was driving was the one that slowed down right before we went in the diner.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure. Same color, make and model. A red Toyota Camry.”
“So you think he followed us, let us go in and then came back to shoot the place up?”
“Yes.”
She mentally chewed on that for a minute. “If you hadn’t ducked, that bullet would have hit you in the back of the head.”
He grimaced and reached up to rub the back of his neck, as though he needed reassurance it was still in one piece. “We’re making someone uncomfortable. Someone who knows we’re investigating your sister’s kidnapping.”
For the first time in a long time, hope sprouted. “If we’re making someone uncomfortable in regards to Lucy’s kidnapping, we must be onto something.”
“I think that diner was a huge clue.”
“So why wasn’t it in the report?”
“That’s a question for Detective Miller.” He gave her a grim smile. “Plus we have an eyewitness. Bobby Young said he saw the man clear as day.”
“Is he on his way to the precinct to work with the sketch artist?”
“He is.”
Katie pulled out her phone and dialed the number she hadn’t used in a year. He answered on the third ring. “Miller here.”
“Hi, Frank. It’s Katie Randall.” Silence greeted her. “Lucy Randall’s sister.”
“I know who you are. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you’d have some time to discuss my sister’s case with me.”
He grunted. “You’re back on that, are you?”
She didn’t let his gruffness deter her. “I am.”
“You working with that guy from Finding the Lost?”
“Yes.”
He huffed a sigh. “All right. Sure. I don’t know what else you think I can tell you that I didn’t tell him, but how about four o’clock tomorrow afternoon here at the station?”
“I’ll be there.”
She hung up and filled Jordan in. “Do you mind if I come along?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
“I wonder what he’ll have to say about the diner.”
“Good question. But until then, I’m curious to see if Mr. Wray has anything to add to his story about why he was in my house.”
“Shall we find out?”
She glanced at her watch. “Let’s see if we can catch him before he heads to dinner.”
* * *
Jordan followed Katie into the jail. The usual chaos—ringing phones, chattering of law enforcement and curses from recently arrested criminals—filled the air. It reminded him of his detective days before he’d applied to the FBI and gotten the case that had turned his life upside down.
But he wasn’t here to think about that. Right now he wanted to know if Mr. Wray had anything else to add to his story.
Katie had called ahead and asked for him to be brought into one of the private areas where prisoners met with those involved in their legal activities. Katie paced the length of the small room while Jordan leaned against the table.