Did You Miss Me? (35 page)

‘Yep.’

‘Good. I’ll make you breakfast.’

‘I’d like that. Dad’s making me dinner now.’

‘But it’s almost midnight. It’s not good for you to eat dinner so late.’

‘Been too busy to eat today. I have this case.’

‘I know. Ford. I wanted to call Daphne, but I know she’s busy.’

‘What do you want me to tell her for you?’

‘Just give her a hug and tell her it’s from me,’ she said with a small smile that quickly faded. ‘Joseph, are you mad at me?’

‘You mean about the sofa? No. Of course not.’

‘Because it’s normal for couples to kiss.’ Her eyes went sly. ‘Even you kiss girls sometimes.’

The memory of kissing Daphne against the door came back with a rush and he felt his face heat. ‘Sometimes,’ he allowed.

Holly smiled, delighted. ‘You’re blushing, Joseph.’

‘Maybe I am. Maybe I caught some of your blush from earlier. As I recall, that’s all you were wearing.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Joseph.’

‘Mom says he’s getting ready to pop the question.’

Her chin lifted slightly. ‘You think I shouldn’t.’

‘I never said that. I’d like to meet him and I’ll try not to kill him,’ he added wryly. ‘He’s just got to be good enough for my little sister.’

‘Paige likes him. She says he’s good for me. So does Daphne.’

Daphne knew about those two? ‘You and Dillon take karate together from Paige?’

‘Not in the same class. I’m with the girls. I met Kimberly there.’

‘You mean Ford’s girlfriend?’

She nodded, frowning. ‘Yeah.’

‘Talk to me, Holly. What did you see?’

‘Nothing.’ She leaned close to speak in his ear. ‘I
heard
, but I didn’t know if I should say anything.’

‘Tell me and I’ll help you decide.’

‘She’s got another boyfriend. That’s wrong, Joseph. But it would hurt Ford to know.’

‘I think it would hurt more to think someone loved you and find out they didn’t. Did you see him?’

‘No,’ she said and his hopes faded. ‘But I heard her on the phone, talking to him. She told him that she found a job for them to do.’ Her face scrunched as she tried to remember. ‘She said he needed a GC something. Then she made kissy noises.’

‘Are you sure she wasn’t talking to Ford?’

‘Positive. Ford came driving up to get her and she said, “Gotta go, he’s here.” That’s when I knew she had another boyfriend. That’s wrong, Joseph.’

‘You’re very right. When was this?’

‘About a month ago. It was before Thanksgiving.’

‘Excellent. Did she see you?’

‘Yeah, but she ignored me. Most people do,’ she added ruefully and his heart broke a little.

‘Then they’re fools,’ he said and kissed her forehead. ‘I want you to go to sleep now. Sweet dreams.’

She grinned mischievously. ‘Of Dillon.’

He winced. ‘Just no dreaming of him on the sofa down here, okay?’

‘Okay. Joseph?’

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘I love you.’

He wrapped her in a hug and spun her in a circle. ‘I love you, too, Holly-bear. Do I have to stop calling you Holly-bear when you get married?’

Her smile was huge. ‘You said “when”.’

‘I guess I did. You go to sleep now.’ He watched her pad back up the stairs.

GC
.
What is a GC?

He caught a whiff of something cooking in the kitchen. He’d worry about it after he ate. And maybe slept. He wondered if Daphne was sleeping.

He wondered what it would be like to watch her sleep, to watch her wake. For the rest of his life.
Find her son
.
Then you can find out
.

West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 12.15
A.M.

The kid had almost made it. Another few miles and he would have reached help, although not the help Mitch had originally intended. If Ford had taken the straight route through the wildlife management area, he should have stumbled right into the next town. Instead he’d ended up on a lonely stretch of road with an occasional farmhouse set way back out of view.

The snow was heavy and part of the time Mitch hadn’t been able to see five feet in front of him. Ford must have gotten lost, unable to use the sky for navigation.

Switching off all the van’s lights, Mitch moved the van forward until the back bumper was three feet ahead of Ford’s unconscious body. He lowered the lift to the ground and rolled Ford in, huffing a little at the effort. Kid was a goddamn bruiser.

Sometimes genetics just weren’t fair.

He raised the lift and shoved Ford into the back of the van. It was a tight fit. The hydraulic cart took up more than half of the width of the van.

Closing the back doors, he returned the lift to its upright position and considered the next step. He’d have to ditch the kid and drive away quickly. Ford was wedged in so tight that he’d have trouble getting him out at all, much less in a rush.

He opened the side slider, grabbed hold of Ford’s jacket, braced his feet against the running board, and pulled for all he was worth. After a few heaves his back was killing him, but he had Ford exactly where he wanted him – close to the door, folded into a fetal position.

That’ll do
. He closed the side door and climbed behind the wheel, sweating.
Give myself pneumonia, sweating in weather like this
. He rested his head against the seat for a moment, breathing deeply, focusing on the muscle in his back that was starting to spasm. When the burning began to subside, he popped a few pain relievers and put the van in drive.

He used to be able to bench press a respectable weight for a guy his size. Moving boxes? No problem. Until he turned his back on Jimmy Cooley in the prison shower. The man had tried to make Mitch his bitch. Jimmy Cooley had ended up dead.
My shiv in his back
. But Mitch had hurt his back in the fight. He’d never been the same.

For that reason alone, his stepfather deserved to die.

Whoa
. Driving without lights, he’d nearly passed by the first house he came to. It was a small place, fairly close to the road compared to its neighbors. Close enough for Ford to crawl to the front door once the ket wore off and he came to.

Mitch slowed to a stop, opened the sliding door, pulled Ford into the snow, and drove away. He planned to circle around and head back to Beckett’s truck, still parked on the side of the road where Ford had run out of gas.
Right about where I figured he would
. He had time to tow Beckett’s truck back to his cabin and set the man free before driving home.

He was looking forward to seeing how Beckett would react to having lost his ticket to ‘half of five million’ . . . especially since Ford had seen his face.

He was especially looking forward to how Daphne would react to seeing Beckett’s face after all these years. It had been twenty-seven years since Daphne had seen Beckett’s ugly mug. Twenty-seven years since her mother moved her far, far away from their hometown. In a matter of hours, she’d be running back here as fast as she could.

Daphne, you’re home
.
We missed you
.

Chapter Fifteen

Wednesday, December 4, 12.50
A.M.

T
he screaming woke Daphne up. She lay in her own bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, trembling. Listening. To nothing. The house was quiet. She knew the screaming had only been in her own mind. It always was.

The last time she’d looked at the clock it had been midnight, so she’d slept less than an hour. She hadn’t expected to sleep at all, so waking up was a surprise in itself. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, the jury verdict heavy on her mind.

I should be too exhausted to dream
. But it didn’t work like that. The more exhausted she was, the more intense the nightmare. Lying beside her, Tasha lifted her head, and Daphne could have sworn the dog was listening, too. To nothing.

She got out of bed and peeked around her bedroom door. Agent Coppola had dragged a chair out of the spare bedroom and was sitting comfortably, keeping watch in the upstairs hall. When she saw Daphne, she came over.

‘Everything okay?’ she whispered.

Daphne nodded. ‘Did you hear anything?’

‘Just now? No. Did you? Are you okay?’

Yes, she’d heard something fierce and terrifying – but in her own mind. It was the nightmare. It happened occasionally, usually when she was stressed.
I think today counts as one of those stressful days
.

‘No, I heard nothing,’ she lied. ‘And yes, I’m all right.’

‘Usually when people say that, they’re not. Your eyes say “nightmare”. Bad one?’

Busted
. ‘Yes, but I’m all right.’

Coppola smiled. ‘Second verse, same as the first. Will you sleep now?’

Daphne wagged her head. ‘Doubtful.’

Coppola pulled a deck of cards from her pocket. ‘We could play a game?’

Daphne opened the door wider. ‘Please.’

Coppola came in and sat on the edge of the bed and dealt two piles of cards. ‘Your mother had a nightmare too. She called out for “Michael”.’

‘My father.’
He broke Mama’s heart
.
And mine
.

‘
What’s the story on him?’

‘He left one night and we never saw him again. I should go to her.’

‘No need. Maggie’s in there with her. Your mother played her music box and it seemed to help quiet her down.’

‘“Edelweiss”. My father used to play it for us on his guitar.’

‘I’m sorry about your dad.’

‘Long time ago.’ He’d left them twenty-seven years ago.
Because of me
.
Because he couldn’t stomach the sight of me
.
Because everyone knew what I did
.

His voice lingered in her memory, another by-product of the nightmare.
Where is she, baby? Where is Kelly? You have to know
.
You have to tell
. His hands, on her shoulders, shaking her.
Snap out it, Daphne
.
You have to snap out of it
.

And then her mother.
Stop it, Michael
.
You’re making it worse
. And then . . . the sound of their fighting with each other.
Over me
.

I should have told
.
I could have told
.
Why didn’t I tell?
Familiar panic rose in her throat and she tried to shake it off.
Can’t do this
.
Can’t let myself get so wound up
.
Got enough problems in the here and now, I don’t need to be adding problems from the past to my plate
. Especially since the time for helping her cousin Kelly was long, long gone.

She sat on the bed, closed her fingers around the cards. ‘What are we playing?’

‘Rummy 500.’ Coppola eyed Daphne’s white-knuckled grip on the cards, on her foot that bobbed almost convulsively. ‘What can I do to help you, Daphne?’ she asked so gently that Daphne felt churlish for wanting to reply
none of your business
.

‘Nothing. It has to work through my system on its own.’ It was like withdrawal from a drug. She got the shakes, violent trembles. Yesterday she’d warded off a panic attack by breathing in the scent of Joseph’s aftershave on her hands. But now when she lifted her hands to her face all she could smell was her hand cream.

Abruptly she slid off the bed and walked into her bathroom, feeling like a marionette on a string. From the side of her tub she plucked the sweater she’d last worn to the barn and buried her face in the soft wool. Inhaling deeply, she pretended she was in the barn, with the horses. Slowly, slowly, the panic began to subside.

She looked up and saw Coppola standing just outside the bathroom door, watching her with a puzzled frown. Annoyance mixed with embarrassment. ‘I’m all right.’

Coppola said nothing and even though Daphne knew it was a ploy to get her to fill the silence, she couldn’t seem to help herself. ‘It’s the barn,’ she said. ‘I’m calmer when I go to the barn. Like . . . stress therapy.’

‘I personally am into scented candles, but hey, whatever floats your boat.’

‘Scented candles make me sneeze. Look, can we keep this to ourselves? People will think I have some weird fetish, going around sniffing barn clothes.’

‘Of course, although it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a little different, I give you that, but a helluva lot healthier than a lot of ways people let off steam. A lot of cops could take a page from your notebook.’

‘Who?’ Daphne asked, because the woman looked lost.

Coppola shrugged. ‘Your dad left. My dad stayed. Impact much the same.’

‘He was a cop?’

‘Oh yeah. Still is. When he had his own nightmare, he drank. Still does.’

‘I’m sorry, Kate,’ Daphne said softly.

‘Thanks.’ Brusquely, she held up the cards. ‘You ready to play?’

‘Sure.’

Wednesday, December 4, 1.10
A.M.

‘Joseph?’ The muffled greeting was accompanied by a soft knock.

Joseph swung his gaze from his laptop to the back door in his parents’ kitchen where his middle sister Zoe had her face pressed against the glass.

He opened the door and she ran in, stomping her feet. ‘Cold, cold.’

He stared at her legs. ‘You’re wearing shorts. In the snow.’

‘I was rock climbing.’

‘After midnight? In the snow?’

‘Not in the snow. In the gym.’ She shrugged. ‘Gym’s open 24/7 and my date works nights. I was on my way out of a workday and he was on his way in. We meet in the middle.’ She sat at the table and pointed to the bottle of wine. ‘Please?’

He poured her a glass while she blew on her fingers. ‘Where are your gloves, Zo?’

She shrugged again, sheepishly. ‘Gave them away.’

And that was Zoe in a nutshell. He loved all three of his sisters, but Zoe was the one he felt most comfortable with. Lisa was older, bossier. She’d kept them in line growing up. Holly was the baby and he’d always taken care of her.

But he and Zoe had always been tight. Two years between them, they’d grown up in step. He’d gone to the Naval Academy and she’d followed in his footsteps. He’d joined the Bureau, she’d become a psychologist with DC police. And when he’d come home from his final deployment, and the nightmares had kept him awake for days, she was the one he’d called and she’d always known what he needed.

Sometimes advice. Sometimes companionable silence. Sometimes a punishing hike or a run. She’d been there for him as he worked through his grief over Jo.

Joseph prayed that he never had to return the favor. The thought of any of his sisters being hurt, having their hearts ripped apart . . . he’d move heaven and earth to spare them.

She took off her coat and Joseph shook his head. In addition to the bike shorts, she wore a tank top and rock climbing boots, her auburn hair pulled into a plain-Jane ponytail that was as much Zoe’s trademark as Daphne’s big hair was hers.

‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.

Joseph tugged on Zoe’s ponytail as he took the seat beside her, moving his laptop out of her way. ‘It’s after one. Everyone’s in bed.’

She grimaced. ‘Sorry I’m late. That snow is coming down. Took me twice as long to get up here from Bethesda. Visibility sucked.’

‘No problem. I was working.’ He’d been trying to search for anything on Daphne’s abduction, twenty-seven years before. But he’d come up completely empty. He didn’t have enough information to request specific newspaper clippings and the local paper wasn’t archived on line that far back. ‘Did you have a nice date?’ he asked her.

‘It was fun.’

‘Mm. Who’s the guy?’

‘A cop. His name is Jim. Very nice guy, but just a time passer.’ Zoe pushed one of the wineglasses across the table. ‘You know how that is.’

‘I do. I hate it.’ He so hoped he was done settling for time passers.

‘I know. Me, too.’ She raised her glass and her brows. ‘To the end of time passers.’ She winked. ‘To Daphne.’

He couldn’t fight the smile that took over his face and didn’t even try. ‘Hear, hear.’

Zoe looked surprised. ‘No denials?’

‘No.’ He drew a breath, remembering that last kiss. ‘It’s too important.’

She smiled at him. ‘Good. It’s long past your turn, Joseph.’ She settled back in her chair, sighed contentedly. ‘It’s so quiet. But it smells like burgers.’

After the day he’d had, the burger had hit the spot and the quiet was a balm.

‘Dad made me a late dinner, then Mom came back from driving Holly’s boyfriend home. I, um, sent them up to bed.’ He winced. ‘At least I won’t walk in on them up there.’ His father had obvious plans to take up where he and Joseph’s mother had left off when they’d been so rudely interrupted.

Zoe snorted. ‘You walked in on them? Where?’

‘In Dad’s office. Oh my God.’

She grinned. ‘I hear you also met Dillon.’

‘How’d you know that?’

‘Holly texted me. She was afraid you’d be mad.’

Joseph frowned. ‘She said the same thing to me. Why did she think I’d be mad?’

The look she shot him was wry. ‘Because you threatened to make her last three boyfriends eunuchs. And because you often seem mad,’ she added quietly.

Joseph blinked, taken aback. ‘But I’m not mad.’

‘I know that, Joseph.’ She sipped her wine, watching him.

‘But Holly doesn’t? Is that why everyone knows about Dillon but me?’

‘I think Holly knows you’re not really angry with her.’ Zoe’s words came carefully. ‘She worries about you.’

‘What, about those bullets today?’

Zoe’s brows went up. ‘No, but we’ll come back to that. She worries about your heart. She remembers what it was like when you came home, broken-hearted. She’s worried that seeing her happy will break your heart even more.’

‘Oh.’ He frowned, hating that his little sister had seen him that way. Hated that he’d been that way at all. ‘But that’s not true, not at all.’

‘I know that, Joseph. Maybe you should tell her.’

‘I will. I don’t want her to worry about me.’

‘That’s going to happen, whatever you do. Like those bullets today. I saw it live. I didn’t breathe until you stood up.’ She paused, studying him. ‘Are you all right?’

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I had a bad moment or two.’ He fixed his gaze on his glass so he didn’t have to see the concern in her eyes. ‘Daphne had blood all over her blouse. Took me back to Jo. Those last few minutes.’

‘Oh, Joseph. I’m sorry. But you got through it.’

‘Didn’t have a choice.’

‘We rarely do.’ Leaning over, she pulled a spiral notebook from her backpack. ‘I have to be in court tomorrow, so let’s talk about your killer so I can go to sleep.’

‘His name is Doug. Last name unknown. He’s twenty-nine, Caucasian, and completely ordinary. He wants to hurt Daphne and I don’t why.’

‘Start at the beginning.’

He did and she took pages of notes as she listened, her expression growing more troubled with every detail.

‘Daphne was abducted as a child? That is too damn weird, Joseph.’

‘I know. I tried to look it up, but I don’t have enough information. I know the year was 1985, that it happened somewhere in West Virginia. I know that Daphne was eight, and that her cousin’s name was Kelly and that Kelly was seventeen. The newspaper archives I searched didn’t go back far enough.’

She blew out a breath. ‘I can write you up a profile, but that abduction is what you have to focus on.’

‘I will tomorrow.’ He could have tonight, but he hadn’t. A piece of him was afraid to ask, afraid of what he might hear. Afraid of what you’ll have to relive? No. He was sure it wasn’t any reason so shallow.

She was watching him. ‘If you need me to help, I will. I feel like I know Daphne well enough by now to offer.’

One side of his mouth lifted. ‘All those major mojito nights? Dad told me he played bartender for you girls.’

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You got it.’ She looked down at her notes, circled a few things, underlined a few others. ‘Okay. I’ll give you the bare bones profile I see right now. Tomorrow I’ll type it up and make it pretty enough for you to share.

‘Doug is a white male, approximately thirty years old. He’s intelligent and cunning. Proud of his cleverness. He enjoys predicting the behaviors of others and planning for contingencies. He probably graduated high school. Likely no college. His interest in weapons
could
indicate military service. It might be that he just
wishes
he were a soldier. If he was in the military, his service record is not blemished but probably not distinguished.’ She hesitated. ‘He’s been abused. He may have done time.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Joseph asked.

‘He has a pathological need to control the lives of others. Somehow he knows about Daphne’s abduction. He’s abducted Ford, very elaborately. He wants to make Daphne hurt. He went out of his way to kidnap Pamela MacGregor to force her sister’s hand. This man has had all the control taken from him at some point in his life. Probably from a young age. He’s taking power back.’

‘But why?’

‘Million dollar question. He blames Daphne for something deep.’

‘She checked to see if she’d prosecuted him. If any part of his name is “Doug”, then she hasn’t.’

‘This is more than a hard-nose prosecutor offering a lousy deal. Doug lost something, or someone. This kind of intensity . . . it’s hard to maintain. Exhausting. I think somebody died and he blames Daphne.’