HER STOLEN SISTER

Seven-year-old Lucy Randall had been kidnapped in broad daylight fourteen years ago, and now Detective Katie Randall is determined to solve her sister’s case. Her only option is to team up with the man whose family hates her. Former FBI agent Jordan Grey knows the beautiful cop isn’t to blame for his brother’s death, but he can’t risk causing his parents more pain by falling for Katie. He’ll have to focus on finding Lucy. But when Katie and Jordan uncover the truth, will this kidnapper turn killer?

Family Reunions: Bringing loved ones back together

“Someone’s either been in my house or is still there.”

Katie gestured to the open door. “Jordan, will you cover me?”

He didn’t waste time chastising her for not waiting on him. “What’s the layout?”

“Foyer leads straight into the great room. Two bedrooms and a bath to the right, kitchen and dining to the left. My bedroom is also to the left, behind the garage.”

“I’ll go right, you go left.”

Katie stepped into her house and caught her breath. Chaos greeted her. Cushions pulled off her couch and slashed. Bookcase overturned and coffee table shoved on its side. The Christmas tree lay on its side, ornaments crushed from one end of the room to the other.

A thud from the back of the house caused her to stiffen and shoot a glance at Jordan. “You hear that?” she whispered.

Suddenly a crash. Running footsteps.

The French doors swung open, and the intruder halted when he realized Katie had him cut off. She pointed her weapon. “Freeze! Police!”

LYNETTE EASON

makes her home in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Lynette has taught in many areas of education over the past ten years and is very happy to make the transition from teaching school to teaching at writers’ conferences. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), FHL (Faith, Hope, & Love) and ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). She is often found online and loves to talk writing with anyone who will listen. You can find her at www.facebook.com/lynette.eason or www.lynetteeason.com.

Christmas Cover-Up

Lynette Eason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.

—Ephesians 2:8

To my Lord and Savior, who loves me unconditionally and died so I could live.

Thanks to my ACFW Suspense Loop friends for your brainstorming help on this series. So many great ideas and suggestions went into this story. Couldn’t have done it without you!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

Keys clutched in her left hand, Detective Katie Randall stared at her vandalized front door. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d pulled into the drive; she’d been too busy thinking about her sister’s cold case and the man who’d been assigned to help her work on it. Lucy had disappeared fourteen years ago from her front yard and it was time Katie and her family found closure.

Now she’d come home to this.

She’d parked in the drive and grabbed her stuff from the car, still thinking about canceling the meeting she had coming up in about five minutes.

It was only when she’d gotten closer to the house that she’d seen the splintered wood around the doorknob. And the Christmas wreath lying on the porch.

The hair on the nape of her neck spiked, and she stepped back. She set her briefcase and keys on the porch. The chilly December wind found its way under her collar, and she shivered as she mentally flipped through her options at lightening speed.

Her nerves tightened, muscles bunched. She pulled her weapon from her shoulder holster as she backed down the steps of the porch. With her left hand, she snagged her cell phone from the back pocket of her khaki slacks and pressed the speed dial number for Jordan Gray, the man she was supposed to meet in less than five minutes. She couldn’t let him walk into a potentially dangerous situation without some warning.

He answered on the third ring. “Almost there.”

“Don’t pull in the drive. Someone’s either been in my house or is still there.”

“Give me thirty seconds.”

“I’m calling for backup. I’ll be inside. Mariah might be here and need help.”

Mariah Sims, Katie’s friend and roommate. Mariah usually got home before Katie.

She hung up on his protests and orders to wait for him. Hesitating, she debated whether or not to call her partner, Gregory Lee, but decided Jordan, a former FBI agent, would be able to handle this just as well as Gregory.

And he was closer. She dialed 911 and within seconds had backup on the way. Once the address went out, every officer within a ten-mile radius would be on her doorstep.

She made her way up the porch steps again. Christmas lights lined the railing. Katie stood to the side of the broken door and nudged it open. “Mariah? Are you here?”

Silence greeted her call.

Katie whispered up a silent prayer for Mariah’s safety.

She glanced over her shoulder as Jordan’s car edged to the curb in front of her neighbor’s home. He climbed out, weapon in his hand as he jogged over to stand beside her. She’d hired him through Finding the Lost to locate her missing sister. The Finding the Lost organization, founded by skip-tracer Erica James, specialized in locating missing people. From private investigators to contracted FBI agents to police detectives, a plethora of talented men and woman worked tirelessly to help others reunite with lost loved ones.

Katie had hired the organization and then had second thoughts about doing so when she discovered who would handle her case. Jordan Gray. She knew him slightly because of her connection to Erica, his boss, but hadn’t realized Neil Gray was his brother. The brother who’d been killed in a jail cell after Katie arrested him for drunk driving.

Before she had a chance to tell Jordan she’d decided she couldn’t work with him, he’d called fifteen minutes ago to let her know he was on the way to her house.

He was ambushing her and she hadn’t been able to put him off. Now she was glad for his presence. She gestured to the open door. “Will you cover me?”

He didn’t waste time chastising her for not waiting on him. “What’s the layout?”

“Foyer leads straight into the great room. Two bedrooms and a bath to the right, kitchen and dining to the left. My bedroom is also to the left behind the garage.”

“I’ll go right, you go left.”

Katie stepped into her house and caught her breath. Chaos greeted her. Cushions pulled off her couch and slashed. Bookcase overturned and coffee table shoved on its side. The Christmas tree she and Mariah had decorated lay on its side, ornaments crushed from one end of the room to the other.

A thud from the back of the house caused her to stiffen and shoot a glance at Jordan. “You hear that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Where’d it come from?” He kept his voice low.

“I don’t know.”

“Is your roommate here?”

“She usually parks in the garage, but I don’t know if her car’s in there or not.” She would have checked before entering the house, but the windows for the garage had blinds on them. And they were closed.

Katie moved farther inside, sidestepping the mess. Jordan went right, weapon in front of him.

Katie passed the open-area kitchen on her left, rounded the breakfast bar and stepped into the hallway. To her left was the utility room, to the right the half bath and the exit to the back porch that ran the length of the house.

The half bath sat empty. All that was left was her room and bath. Her room looked like the great room area: destroyed.

She ignored the anger at the invasion and headed back to join Jordan.

“Freeze! FBI!”

Katie did for a brief second before she realized the yell wasn’t aimed at her.

A crash. Running footsteps.

A dark-clothed figure raced past the doorway where she stood and into Mariah’s bedroom, with Jordan on his heels. Katie bolted after them.

The intruder leaped over the bed and wrenched the French doors open. Jordan followed and Katie turned to race from the bedroom, back into the great room and out onto the back porch.

The French doors swung open and the figure halted when he realized Katie had him cut off. She pointed her weapon. “Freeze! Police!”

He obeyed for a millisecond, then vaulted over the railing. Again Jordan followed while Katie spun and took the steps two at a time to the yard, where Jordan tackled the man. Sirens screaming, three cruisers pulled up to the curb.

* * *

Jordan ducked as a fist swung around toward his face. As the intruder’s punch met air, Jordan pulled back his right arm and let his knuckles crunch against the guy’s jaw. Dazed, the fight drained from the man, and he lay on his back panting, glaring as the sting of the hit faded.

With her gun in her right hand, Katie used her left to toss a pair of handcuffs to Jordan.

“Let us know if you need help.”

Jordan looked up to see three officers, guns drawn, ready to jump in. He sucked in a lungful of air. “I think we got it.”

Katie walked over and continued to cover the man until Jordan had him on his stomach, hands cuffed behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent...” Katie read him his rights as Jordan patted the man down. Finding no weapon, he rose to his feet.

When she was finished, she looked at the officers. “This will just take a minute, then he’s all yours. She shoved her intruder over to the steps of the porch. “Sit.”

Jordan watched the man obey. Reluctantly and with narrowed green eyes that glinted with anger.

Katie looked at Jordan. “You’re not FBI. Why’d you identify yourself as such?”

He felt a flush start at the base of his neck. Then gave a small shrug even as the shadows danced across his mind. He pushed them away. “I am again as of last month. Simply doing some consulting work with them.”

“Oh.”

He spread his hands, palms up. “They asked.”

“Right. Well, that should make my lieutenant happier.” Jordan knew her lieutenant hadn’t been too keen on Katie having access to her sister’s files, but he had finally caved, especially when she’d explained that she was hiring an outside organization to help. He’d been intrigued by the idea and finally agreed as long as she kept him updated. And worked the case on her own time. As far as Jordan could tell, she’d kept to that promise.

She stared at him a moment longer, then turned her frown at her intruder. “Who are you, and what were you doing in my house?”

His gaze lowered to the badge on her belt. “You’re a cop?”

“I am.”

“And you’re FBI?” He directed his question to Jordan, who gave a sharp nod.

“Figures.” He clamped his lips and looked away. Jordan decided the guy was younger than he’d originally thought. Maybe in his mid-twenties.

“Your name?” Katie demanded.

“Wesley Wray.”

“What were you looking for, Mr. Wray?” Jordan asked.

Wesley shrugged. “Whatever I could find. Jewelry, cash, whatever.”

Katie snapped his picture with her iPhone and emailed it directly to her office with instructions to find out everything possible about this man. “So this was just a random thing? You picked my house out of all the ones in this subdivision?”

“Yeah, I guess. It looked like an easy hit.” He shook his head and muttered, “Didn’t know you were a cop.”

Jordan saw skepticism skitter across Katie’s face and knew she wasn’t buying the guy’s story. Jordan hauled the man to his feet. “Come on, you can tell the rest of this sad tale downtown.”

As he stood, Wesley’s gaze landed on Katie’s briefcase sitting on the front porch. “Your laptop in there?”

She frowned. “It is. Why?”

“Nothing.”

Jordan led Wesley to a waiting police cruiser. Jordan recognized Chris Jiles as one of the officers. Chris locked his hand around Wray’s upper arm and looked at Katie. “You all right?”

“Never better.”

“Right.” He helped Jordan get Mr. Wray secured in the back of the cruiser. She walked over and shook hands with Chris. “I’ll be down to the station shortly to fill out a report. Stick him in one of the interrogation rooms and let him sit for a bit.”

“Will do. You need a crime scene unit?”

“Why? We caught him red-handed and he confessed. Let’s not waste lab dollars on a simple B & E.”

He shrugged. “Your call.”

Chris drove off with his prisoner, followed by the other officers who’d shown up. Katie turned to Jordan.

Dressed in pressed khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt, she had her straight blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a plain band. Her light brown eyes still glinted steel. A faint dusting of freckles and no makeup would make a lot of women look plain. Katie, however, was a natural beauty.

He ignored the zing of attraction he always seemed to get around her and followed her up the front porch steps.

Romance, attraction, whatever it was he felt when he spent time with her was not an option. Katie Randall had killed his brother—at least in his parents’ eyes—and while he’d work with her on this case, getting personal was out of the question. And besides, she’d gone out her way to avoid him ever since she’d learned he would be the one handling the case.

They stepped back inside and the destruction greeted them.

Even though she’d already seen it, he heard her suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full cleaning this up.”

She sighed. “Looks like. Fifteen days until Christmas and this. Lovely. Just what I wanted to come home to.” She grimaced. “Okay, I’ll stop whining now. Sorry.”

He gave a short laugh. “I’ll help.”

Really? And why was he offering to spend more time with her than necessary? She lifted a brow. “I’ll probably call a cleaning crew, but thanks.”

Relieved—yet strangely disappointed—he nodded and looked around. “Mariah’s not here, obviously.”

“No.” She walked into the kitchen and looked out the window into the garage. “Her car’s not here. She either stayed late at work or stopped somewhere on her way home.”

Jordan tilted his head toward the back of the house. “Your office is trashed, too.”

Katie spun on her heel and walked to her office. Trashed was a kind word. “He asked about my laptop. Do you find that strange?”

“Yes. A bit.”

Katie walked to Mariah’s room. Mariah had gone crazy with Christmas decorations. Decorations that were still in their place, none broken, none touched. Jordan followed. She said, “But he didn’t touch anything in here.”

“Maybe he just didn’t have time to get to it.”

“Maybe.”

“Or he was just interested in your stuff and not hers.”

“But why? And why ask about my laptop?”

“I think we’ll have to get Mr. Wray to answer those questions.”

* * *

Katie rubbed her head, hoping the action would push away the building headache. “I guess this means our meeting is on hold.”

“Again.”

Katie felt a flush of guilt stain her cheeks. It was true. She’d been putting him off, delaying their getting together. Every time she was around him, she expected him to bring up his brother. And her part in the man’s death. Her avoidance of Jordan was unusual. Normally if she needed to address something unpleasant, she did it and got it over with. Not so with this man. “It’s not like I planned this.”

“No, but you’ve been avoiding meeting with me. You’re the one who came to us, remember? I’ve been working this case for the past two weeks. I need you to be available to answer questions when they come up. By putting me off, you’re making it exceedingly difficult for me to do my job.” He studied her. “And after you went to all that trouble to convince your lieutenant to grant us access to files and everything related to Lucy’s case.”

Katie grimaced at the memory of going to her lieutenant and unashamedly begging him to allow them to do this. “I know. I know,” she groaned. “He really didn’t want to, but he likes me. Although he did warn me that if this came back to bite him, I’d be checking parking meters until I retired.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’ll help that you’re back with the FBI. He’s not like some who get defensive about territory. He welcomes any help he can get.”

A faint smile crossed his face, then faded. “Is your reluctance because of Neil?”

Katie stared at him, taken aback by his bluntness. Then a small kernel of anger formed in her belly. She curled her fingers into fists then had to make a concentrated effort to relax. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t want to talk to him. Not totally, anyway. “Yes, it’s partly because of Neil. I didn’t really expect Erica to give this case to you.” Erica James, the director of Finding the Lost, was one of Katie’s closest friends. “She knows what happened with Neil and—and I just—” She broke off and swallowed hard. “Although I suppose it makes the most sense with your FBI connections.” She frowned. “I can drive.”

“That’s all right, I don’t mind. Where will you and Mariah stay until you get this cleaned up?”

“Good question.” Relieved not to talk about his brother just yet, Katie pulled her phone out and started to dial Mariah’s number when she heard a car pull into the drive. She walked out onto the front porch to see her roommate climb from her vehicle.

Mariah spotted Jordan and waved. “Hey, you two, what’s going on?” Jordan and Mariah had met once when Jordan had come by to pick up information regarding her sister’s kidnapping.

“We had a break-in,” Katie said.

Mariah’s pretty green eyes went wide. “A break-in? Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Katie assured her, then explained what had happened. “But it’s pretty bad inside. I think we need to find another place to stay until a cleaning crew can come out here.” She paused. “Although your room looks fine. He didn’t get that far.”

Jordan said, “He just raced out the French doors. But your stuff didn’t look touched.”

Mariah bit her lip and tucked a stray hunk of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. “You think he’ll come back?”

“No, we caught him. But the kitchen and den area aren’t livable right now. He slashed the cushions and—”

Mariah rushed past her and into the house. Her outraged cry made Katie grimace. Her roommate raced to Katie’s bedroom, then the office and finally her own bedroom. Tears stood in her friend’s eyes. “I don’t want to stay here. And you can’t. He slashed up your mattress.”

“I know.”

Mariah took a deep breath. “We’ll stay with Grandma Jean. She has that big ol’ house with plenty of room. She’d love it if we crashed there for a few days.”

Katie smiled as she thought of the spry eighty-year-old woman who still lived life to the fullest. “All right, you ask her. I’ve got to get down to the station and question our intruder.”

Mariah shuddered. “I can’t believe someone would break into a cop’s house.”

Katie shrugged. “I don’t think he knew I was a cop.” She frowned. “I can’t help thinking this isn’t a random break-in.”

Mariah fished in her large shoulder bag and produced her phone. “I’ll throw some things in a bag and call Grandma Jean and tell her we’re coming.”

Katie looked at Jordan. “Guess I’ll do the same, then we can go. I’ll take my car and you can ride with me if you want. Mariah’s grandmother only lives about a mile from here, so I can bring you back here to get your car before I go over there for the night.”

“That sounds good.”

Katie smiled then walked into her destroyed bedroom. The smile slipped away and anger swept over her, hot and swift even as she gave thanks that Mariah hadn’t been here when the intruder broke in. She grabbed an overnight bag and threw some items in it, including work clothes for the next day. She then examined every inch of her bedroom even though she knew Wray hadn’t taken anything. Her jewelry box lay open, but nothing was missing.

A shudder of revulsion went through her. She dealt with criminals every day. But she’d never had one in her house. Her bedroom. It made her skin crawl.

Katie spun toward the door, anxious to get out of the room, and ran into Mariah coming from her bedroom. Her friend said, “We’re all set. Grandma Jean’s excited to have company tonight.”

“I’ll call someone to come clean this up, and we’ll put better locks on the doors.” She paused. “And maybe an alarm system.”

“All right. I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

Katie nodded and joined Jordan, who waited patiently in the den. “I’m ready.”

He followed her outside and stopped at her vehicle. She opened her door and looked at him. He placed a hand over hers. The heat of his palm seeped through the back of her hand, warming her. “What is it?” When he hesitated, she took a deep breath. His spicy cologne filled the air. Katie told herself she had to ignore the fact that she found him attractive and focus on doing what they needed to do so they could part company. “Jordan?”

He said, “I know my parents blame you for Neil’s death, but I didn’t realize—”

She tensed. “What?”

“You blame yourself for my brother’s death, too, don’t you?”

TWO

She climbed into the car and shut the door. Jordan walked around and did the same, wondering if she was going to answer him. Then she bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. He was just a kid.” She cranked the car and backed out of the drive.

“You were doing your job.”

“I know that,” she snapped. Then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Neil was at a party and he’d been drinking. He decided to drive home rather than be smart and call someone to pick him up.”

“What male is smart at the age of twenty?”

A short, humorless laugh barked from him. “None. Not a single one.”

“But he shouldn’t have died because he was just stupid.”

“No, he shouldn’t have.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t know what would happen. I let him make a phone call and put him in the holding cell. Then I went to do the paperwork and about an hour later—”

“I know.”

“There were so many arrests that night,” she whispered. “It was crazy.”

“It was New Year’s Eve. It’s always like that.”

“There was no choice but to fill the holding cells up.”

“Katie, you don’t have to justify that night to me. I’ve worked law enforcement. I know what it’s like.” He swallowed hard and sighed. “You had no idea a meth head would kill two people with his bare hands before someone could get in there. You can’t predict what’s going to happen in those cells. Most of the time nothing does.” His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “The fact is, if my brother hadn’t chosen to be stupid, he’d still be alive.”

His anger vibrated between them. He was still furious with Neil. But not with her. Not anymore. He looked at her and felt frustration swamp him when he couldn’t read her expression. “So do you want me to quit looking into your sister’s kidnapping or not?”

Katie bit her lip and glanced at him. “I don’t know, but knowing you don’t hold me responsible for Neil’s death helps.”

“I don’t, but I’ll be honest, my parents do and I’m afraid I’ll never convince them otherwise.”

She flinched and nodded.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You came to us.”

“I know that.”

He thought about all the work he’d already done, the people he’d questioned, the answers that produced more questions. “I can’t do my job without your cooperation. Your sister’s been missing for fourteen years. Do you want me to keep working on trying to find out what happened to her or not?” Trying to find a person missing for the past fourteen years was hard enough, but trying to find one without the cooperation of the one who’d hired him would be impossible.

“Yes. No.” She hissed out a breath and tightened her fingers around the wheel. After she made a left turn, she said, “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“Why?”

“Because every time I look at you, I think of Neil. I think of your father in the morgue and his—” She bit her lip and looked away.

His phone rang and he snagged it, deciding to take the call and give her a bit of breathing room. “Hello?”

“Jordan. This is Erica.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Have you had a chance to talk to Katie?” He and Erica had discussed Katie’s reluctance to have him lead the investigation into her sister’s disappearance.

“In the process now.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rush you. I’m just concerned.”

“I know. I’ll give you an update soon.” He hung up and turned back to Katie. “That was Erica.”

“Why did she assign my case to you?” Katie asked.

“Because I had just finished up with one and had the time to take it.” He paused. “Did you tell her anything about our background?”

Katie shook her head.

“So she didn’t know.” He sighed. “Look. If you don’t want me working it, I’ll tell Erica. But you should know everyone is slammed right now. When Erica finally found Molly after three years and brought her home, those front-page headlines had people coming out of the woodwork. There are so many cold-case disappearances with desperate family members thinking Finding the Lost is their only hope. If you back off of Lucy’s case now, it might be a while before someone else can pick it back up.”

She drove without speaking until they were almost to the station. “I don’t know if I can work with you. You’re a constant reminder that I caused someone’s death. How can you work with me day in and day out and not think about him? Not remember? Not feel some kind of anger toward me?” Her low voice reverberated with pain that echoed his own.

His heart hurt when he thought of his twenty-year-old brother. He’d been dead for a little over a year and the pain still cut sometimes.

Neil, the black sheep. The wild young man just sowing his oats. Neil, lying in the coffin because he’d chosen to drink and drive and then get stuck in a cell with the wrong person. Neil, whose dark secrets, known only to Jordan and the medical examiner, went to the grave with him, leaving Jordan with the burden of what to do with them. Especially the question of whether or not to tell his parents the truth about what really had been going on with Neil. Like his drug problem. “Neil doesn’t have anything to do with me doing my job.”

She pulled into the parking lot of the station and turned off the vehicle. She looked at him. “How can you be objective? Your brother is dead because I arrested him and stuck him in a cell with a crazy person. How can you not blame me, too?”

“For starters, you didn’t know the guy was crazy. And second, my brother is dead because he made some really bad choices. I don’t blame you, I blame Neil and the guy who killed him. Period. Those are the only two who deserve the blame.”

“Like you said, your parents don’t feel that way.”

Jordan closed his eyes, remembering his father’s confrontation of Katie at the morgue. Paul Gray had stared daggers at Katie. “You killed my son!”

Katie had winced and held out a hand. “I’m so sorry this happened. Neil ran a stop sign right in front of me. I pulled him over and he was—”

“You did this. You!” He’d jabbed a finger, stopping millimeters from her chest, cutting off her sorrowful words. “Neil called me. Said he didn’t know why he’d been arrested, that it was a case of mistaken identity. You made a mistake, and an innocent boy died because of it. I hope you can sleep tonight knowing how well you did your duty.” The thick sarcasm cut.

“Sir—”

His father had turned on his heel and marched away, never looking back. And Jordan had just stood there and let the man blast Katie. Then again, he’d wanted to do the same thing. Before he’d learned the truth about everything. That Neil was into drugs, buying, selling and using. And he was in deep.

The pain of that day swept over him once again.

The agony on Katie’s face shook him. “He wasn’t innocent like your parents believe, but Neil shouldn’t have died because of that choice,” she reiterated with a whisper.

“No, he shouldn’t have.” Jordan rubbed a hand down his face. “This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Mostly.”

He nodded. “All right. We’ve gotten this far in talking about it, but we’ll have to finish this conversation later. Let’s go see what our prisoner has to say.”

Katie nodded and climbed from the car.

* * *

Katie stepped into the police station. Jordan nodded to an officer and said, “I want to speak to Kurt over there. His father and mine are friends. I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She nodded and took a right down a long hallway. She stopped in front of a room labeled Interrogation Room #2 and took a deep breath.

Questioning a suspect always gave her an adrenaline rush. Mr. Wesley Wray was no different. She knew Jordan would be watching from the observation window. Katie stepped into the interrogation room and dropped a file on the table in front of Wray. She sat across from him and settled one hand on top of the file. His eyes followed her movement. She asked, “You’ve got quite a history of breaking into places, don’t you?”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. He narrowed his eyes, leaned back and crossed his arms. “So?”

She shrugged and kept her voice conversationally light. “What do you do when you’re not in jail, Mr. Wray? Do you have a family?”

His brow furrowed. She’d confused him. “Yeah. I got a wife and a kid that live over behind the Beacon.”

The Beacon. One of Spartanburg’s most well-known landmarks. Anyone who came through the city as a tourist stopped to eat there. But one didn’t want to live behind it. It was one of the toughest areas in town, where residents kept their doors locked and their weapons nearby.

“So I want to know, out of all the houses in Spartanburg, what made you pick mine?”

“I told you, Detective, it was empty and looked like an easy hit. I thought I’d be in and out before anyone got home. End of story.”

She leaned in. “Oh, no. I think there’s a lot more to that story than you’re telling, and we’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied you’ve given me quite a few more details. Why did you ask about my laptop? Is there something on there you’re interested in?”

For a brief second, Wray looked startled, a deer caught in the headlights, then he sneered and leaned forward, the tic alongside his mouth betraying his emotion. “Look, lady—”

“That’s ‘detective.’”

“Detective,” Wray sneered. His face cleared, the tic stopped. “There’s nothing else to tell. I needed some cash for a hit. Your house looked ripe.”

Katie studied him. “You’re not a junkie.”

He lifted a brow and shrugged. “I didn’t say the hit was for me.”

She slammed a hand on the table and he jumped. “Quit playing me! What were you doing in my house?”

* * *

Jordan shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. If he didn’t, the temptation to burst into the investigation room and wrap his fingers around Wray’s throat might just be too much for him.

He slid a glance at Gregory Lee, Katie’s partner. The man had come when he’d heard the call over his radio. Jordan said, “She holds her own, doesn’t she?”

“She’s sharp. Can spot a lie a mile away. Only you know as well as I do she shouldn’t be in there questioning him.”

“I know. You going to get in there and tell her to get out?”

“In a minute or two.”

Jordan smothered a smile. Gregory was a good partner. He stood about two inches over six feet, and Jordan knew he’d just celebrated his thirty-third birthday, because one of Katie’s excuses for not meeting with him last week was because she had a birthday party to attend for her partner.

“You have any thoughts on why Wray would have been in Katie’s house?”

Lee shook his head. “No.”

“Any cases y’all are working bring anything to mind?”

Gregory finally looked at him. “Nothing in particular. Why? You don’t think this was a random thing?”

“Do you?”

Gregory shrugged. “Cops don’t have any special protection when it comes to a breaking and entering.”

“I know. It just seems...odd. He breaks into her house at five-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. That’s about the time a lot of people are coming home from work. Why risk being spotted by a neighbor or the homeowner walking in on him...like Katie did.”

“Good questions.” Gregory eyed him. “Why don’t you pass those on to Katie?”

“She’ll think of them.”

Katie looked up and scratched her nose.

Gregory said, “That’s my cue.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s not pushing. She’s going to let me push the guy.” He shot Jordan a look. “Guess I’ll get to ask those questions.” He slipped from the observation room and soon was in the interrogation room. Katie pressed the file into his hands and within seconds joined Jordan. “You look tired,” he said.

“Tired and frustrated.”

Jordan nodded. “I understand. But just one question.”

“What’s that?”

“If Wray didn’t pick your home by accident, then what was the reason behind the break-in?”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Unfortunately, Gregory didn’t get anything else out of Mr. Wray, either, and they left with more questions than answers.

On the way to the car, she asked, “What are your plans tonight?”

“I’m going to stop at my parents’ house, then head home. I need to go over some notes.”

She cocked her head. “Do you work all the time?”

Jordan flashed her a tight smile. “Of course. Don’t you?”

She blew out a short laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.” She paused and bit her lip.

“What is it?”

Katie sighed. “Are you going to tell your parents we’re working together?”

Jordan pressed his lips together as he pondered that question. “I don’t know.”

She nodded, her eyes troubled. Jordan found himself wanting to soothe the agitation there. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that it would be all right. He swallowed hard and resisted the desire to act on those feelings.

He pictured that day in the morgue. Looking down at his brother’s face. Surrounded by his parents’ grief and Katie’s guilt-ridden eyes.

He shuddered. Yeah. Better to turn those feelings off now before they developed into something that would break both of their hearts.

THREE

Wednesday morning Katie woke to the sun streaming through the blinds and a headache she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Except maybe her uncooperative intruder from yesterday. Yeah. He could have it.

She squinted against the light and held a hand to her throbbing head, wondering who’d stabbed her just above her right eye. She glanced at the clock. Eight-fifteen. Where was she?

Oh, right, Grandma Jean’s. And today was Wednesday. Grandma Jean would be at her weekly Bible study and Mariah, a crime-lab technician, would have left for work about thirty minutes ago.

Katie moved and the room tilted. She groaned and decided the pain felt like little men with ice picks were assaulting her head.

Medicine first.

Call in sick second.

Once she’d ticked both items off her list, she closed the curtains over the blinds and crawled back under the covers. Bracing her head against the headboard, she kept her eyes shut and let her mind spin.

Time passed in a blur. It seemed like mere minutes when her cell phone rang, jarring her from her twilight sleep. A quick glance at the clock told her it was lunchtime. Her stomach growled in agreement.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Katie? You all right?” Jordan asked.

She supposed her froglike voice might have clued him in that something might be wrong. “Yeah. Had a bad headache.”

“Had? As in it’s gone now?”

She considered the question. “Not entirely, but it’s better. Manageable.”

“Manageable enough to meet me for lunch?”

Did she want to? Not really, because she had a feeling what the topic of conversation would be. But she’d made this decision to pursue her sister’s case. A case that wouldn’t even exist if Katie hadn’t turned her back on Lucy for just a little too long. Lucy had been seven years old when fourteen-year-old Katie had helped a neighbor with her groceries. When she’d returned to the yard, Lucy had been gone. And Katie had been blamed by her parents ever since. Especially her mother.

It wasn’t too late to back out, but she knew deep down she didn’t want to do that. She needed to know what had happened to Lucy, needed somehow to absolve herself of this raging guilt she’d carried for the last fourteen years. “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”

“I think I remember you like pizza?”

“Of course.”

“How about Gino’s?”

The little pizza place about three minutes from Grandma Jean’s house. She swiped a hand through her hair. “Give me about thirty minutes.”

“Deal.”

“And I’m paying for mine, okay? I mean, this isn’t like a date, right?” she blurted. Silence from the other end. She fought the mortification at her silly assumption that he had even thought about paying for her lunch.

She opened her mouth to apologize only to hear him say on a choked laugh, “Well, if I’d been thinking along those lines, I’m not now.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. Was actually trying to avoid that by clearing that up before we met.”

He gave another low chuckle and she knew if she looked in the mirror, she’d be beet red. “You can pay for yours. See you soon, Katie.” His silky goodbye sent shivers dancing up her spine. Oh, no. She had not just done that, had she? Why, oh why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?

And yet she couldn’t extinguish the spark of excitement that flared at the thought of being with him again. “It’s not a date,” she reminded herself as she flew through her routine, her headache all but gone.

Twenty-six minutes later, she walked through the door of the popular pizza café and spotted Jordan seated at a back table with a large pizza at the center. Christmas music played in the background, and a toasty fire added to the warmth of the atmosphere.

Katie slid into the chair opposite him. A glass of iced tea sat in front of her and she took a swig. He handed her a plate and a napkin. “Pepperoni all right?”

“More than all right. It’s my favorite.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

He had, huh? Erica?

She waited for him to mention her embarrassing moment on the phone, but he seemed to have let it go. She relaxed and for the next few minutes they ate while Katie wondered about the man across from her.

“What’s your story, Jordan?”

He stilled, glanced up at her then back to his pizza. “What do you mean?”

“You used to be with the FBI full time. Why did you leave to come work for Erica?”

“Partly because Brandon asked me to.” Brandon Hayes was Erica’s brother and partner with Finding the Lost. And Jordan’s roommate. He chewed his food and swallowed. “It’s a long story.”

He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but she decided not to let him off the hook that easily. “I’ve got time.” He knew her entire sordid mess of a story. Would he trust her enough to share his background?

He stared at her then looked down at his food. “I was working with the Crimes Against Children division. Fighting online predators. I messed up and a kid died. End of story.”

Katie gasped. “Jordan, I’m so sorry.”

He continued to eat in silence, but Katie knew there was more. She decided to go for broke. “How did you mess up?”

He paused, set the uneaten piece of pizza on his plate and sighed. “I was outsmarted.”

She stared at him, skeptical. “I can’t see that happening.”

For a moment his eyes thawed and the grief that had been there faded a fraction. “Thanks for that.” He shook his head. “The guy on the other end of the computer had routed his IP address through so many different places, I was having a hard time tracking him. When I finally got a lock on him, it was too late. He’d killed the young girl and taken off.”

“Was he ever found?”

“Yes. The next day, when he tried to snatch another kid.”

She considered his story. “Is that why you only work cold cases at Finding the Lost? Like my sister’s case? Like Molly’s?” Jordan had been a key player in finding little Molly James, Erica’s daughter, who’d been kidnapped three years ago. Molly had been reunited with her mother six months before and was adjusting well thanks to a team effort. That was one case Katie would never forget. She’d worked countless hours looking for Molly and had forged a deep friendship with Erica as a result.

Jordan’s nostrils flared, her insight seeming to surprise him. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

She shrugged. “Maybe not to the ordinary person, but I just put two and two together.”

“Right.” Jordan tossed his napkin onto the table like he’d lost his appetite. “Can we get into the details about your sister’s case?”

She’d pushed enough. “I suppose it’s time.”

Jordan steepled his fingers and said, “Two weeks ago, you asked us to look into your sister’s disappearance.”

“Right.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s already been fourteen years. In some ways it seems like she’s been gone forever. In others, it seems like it was yesterday.”

“I took the information you gave me and the information from the file and tried to piece together the events of that day. I wanted to bounce everything off of you, see if you had anything else to add.” He paused. “And would have already done so if you had taken my calls.”

She grimaced. He stayed silent, but kept his gaze on her face. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” Katie paused and considered what she wanted to tell him. She finally said, “You know, I became a detective because of Lucy.”

He nodded. “Erica mentioned something along those lines.”

“In the beginning, I did what I could on my own time to find her. But I kept running into brick walls. I got frustrated and angry that I wasn’t making any progress. It became an...obsession. Once again, the case was taking over my life.” She licked her lips and took a swig of her iced tea. “The first time was when she was taken. My parents worked so hard to find her—flyers, press conferences, interviews, everything. And of course I did what I could to be involved and help, but I was fourteen. I was powerless.” She swallowed hard.

“I hated that feeling. But now I was doing something.” She sighed. “My lieutenant had been very understanding, but I’d reached the limit on his patience. He was ready to put me on suspension because I was letting it affect my performance on my other cases. I had to stop if I wanted to save my career, my sanity. So I did.”

And she felt guilty for that. “I told myself I would take a break and get back to it. And I came to Finding the Lost because I thought it would be good to have some outside help to keep me from becoming obsessed.”

“How long has your break been?”

“A year.”

“So after a year, you decide to start searching again. Why the hesitation now?”

She rubbed her eyes. “Part of me is scared that I’ll do it again. Let it become an obsession. And as much as I want to know what happened to her, that can’t happen. And—” she picked at imaginary lint on the sleeve of her fleece “—I’m afraid of what I’m—we’re—going to find.”

“You’re scared we’re going to find out she’s dead.”

Katie looked up. “It’s been fourteen years, Jordan. You know the odds as well as I do.” She took a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I want to know what happened to her. And yet...I don’t.”

“You can’t have it both ways.” He gentled his tone.

“I know that.” She rubbed a hand down her weary face and closed her eyes. “I just... What if she’s dead?” she whispered. “How will I tell my parents that? How will I live with it?”

Jordan leaned over and took her hand. The warmth of his fingers on hers made her shiver. “Won’t it give you some closure? One way or the other? All these years you’ve held out hope. Even if she’s dead, wouldn’t you finally be able to put it behind you?”

Katie shrugged and bit her lip then said, “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I simply don’t know.”

Jordan sighed. “Well, I’ve got information. I need to know what you want me to do with it.”

She shook her head. “Finding Lucy is why I’m here. I’ve been kidding myself thinking I could just let it go permanently.” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’ve got to know one way or another—and I think my parents do, too.” After shredding her napkin into tiny pieces, she firmed her lips and looked him in the eye. “So tell me.”

* * *

Jordan pulled at his lower lip. Then he said, “I called a friend at the bureau and asked him about the case, got the file emailed to me and did some research. Your lieutenant was nice enough to let me have the local law enforcement file so I could compare the two.” He set that on the table in front of her.

She glanced at it. “Who have you talked to so far?”

“A lot of people. Particularly those who still live in your old neighborhood.”

“Go on.”

He pulled out a notebook and flipped through a few pages. “I tried to get in touch with your neighbor Elaine Johnson.”

“She’s still alive?” Katie asked.

It surprised him she didn’t know. “Yes. She’s old, but she’s definitely alive. The only problem is, she wasn’t home. I’ve been by her house three times and she’s not there. I asked some of your neighbors where she is and one of them thought she was visiting her son in Georgia. Another said she was in the hospital. And yet another said she thought she was in a nursing home. I’m tracking her down.”

“How about that. Elaine Johnson’s still alive.” She gave a breathy laugh. “Wow. I mean, I knew she was a year ago, but she was in the hospital with congestive heart failure the last I heard. I ended up deciding to take my break before I was able to talk to her, but I would scan the obituaries in the paper thinking I’d see her name. When I never did, I figured I just missed it.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “She didn’t see anything anyway that day. She was with me in the house when it all happened.”

Jordan nodded. Elaine Johnson. The next-door neighbor who’d needed help with her groceries. Katie had carried several bags into the house and then returned to her front yard to find Lucy missing.

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.

She said, “I wonder if he’s retained a lawyer yet.”

“Probably a public defender. I looked a little deeper into his past last night. He was on probation. His latest crime will land him here for a good long while.”

“Then maybe he won’t have anything to lose by talking to us now.”

“Maybe.”

She shot him a glance and then looked at her watch. “Wonder what’s taking so long?”

“He’s probably at dinner.”

She grimaced. “Is it already that time? I forgot how late it was.”

“Your headache gone?”

“The one from this morning is. However, I have a feeling Mr. Wray may spark another one.”

The door opened and Jordan straightened.

An officer said, “Mr. Wray won’t be coming in.”

“Why’s that?” Katie asked.

“Because he’s being transported to the hospital. There was a fight on the way to the dining hall. He was stabbed in the throat.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.