Mind Reader (6 page)

“I’m sorry, honey. I know people have made it hard for you. But considering the circumstances, I thought—”

“Sandy, please.” She didn’t want to hear it again. She
didn’t want him to remind her that she’d blown a case. And
she didn’t want to visualize Sarah lying there dead. Not
again.

Watching a doodlebug inch across the carpet, Caron
forced herself to calm down. The damage was done, and no
amount of complaining could undo it. “Parker met me on the street over here. He’s offering to help on the case.”

“I’m not sure we have a case. I’ve been watching the re
ports filed all afternoon, and I’ve checked with Gretna,
Marrero, Westwego—all of the surrounding cities. There’s
nothing on a kidnapping in any of them.”

So now his doubt was out in the open. It hurt her more than him telling Parker about her gift. And it angered her.
Sandy knew how many cases she’d successfully solved.

She kicked the paneling with the toe of her sneaker. “The
girl has been abducted, Sandy. That’s not in dispute or the issue. Parker
Simms is the issue.”

Sandy hesitated.

Caron prodded. “Well?”

“Let him help.”

Sandy didn’t just doubt her, he thought she’d lost it and
gone off the deep end. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she felt even angrier and more betrayed. He was trying to protect her, but she didn’t want his protection. She wanted his faith. “You know I work alone. I always have.”
 
Of all people, she should
have to explain why to him.

“What I know is that Simms is sharp and he has connections.” Sandy dropped his voice. “If there is a case, he
might give you an edge.”

“There
is
a case!” Caron squeezed her eyes shut. A year
ago today, she’d thought she didn’t need help. She’d been wrong, and Sarah had paid the ultimate price for Caron’s
mistake. “So you’ll vouch for him?”

Again Sandy hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll vouch for him. I walked the beat with his father for twenty years, Caron.
Charley Simms never crossed anybody. And no son of his
could be a demon from hell out to get you. Parker’s one of
the good guys. Give him a break.”

“Give
him
a break?
He
doesn’t believe
me.”
 
Because she wished he did, she again kicked the paneling with her toe.

“Most people don’t believe you,” Sandy argued. “That’s never slowed you down before. Why is Simms any differ
ent?”

Parker Simms
was
different—though she didn’t want to ask herself why. Sandy was half-right, though; most people’s doubts hadn’t slowed her down. But they had bothered her. Like everyone else, she wanted acceptance and
approval.

She glanced down the hallway to make sure she was still
alone. It was empty. “Okay. Okay, I’ll give Parker the benefit of doubt. But if he’s a lousy partner,
I’m
ditching
him. I can’t afford the distraction.”

“No, you can’t.”

Caron didn’t like Sandy’s tone. Something hid there, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly. Still, if
he was willing to vouch for Simms... Well, the least she
could do was to talk to him. “I’ve got to go.”

“Keep in touch.” He sounded anxious.

Caron quirked a brow at the phone. “Three-one-two-two-four,” she said,
repeated the code number that let her access his answering
machine for messages. That was how they’d always kept
tabs on each other during a case.

“Right.”

After hanging up, Caron ducked into the bathroom,
splashed cold water on her cheeks and wrists, then went out
to the dining room.

Parker stood up at a secluded booth and waved her over.
When she’d been in the car and seated in Sandy’s office, she hadn’t realized just how big
he was. But standing next to Simms, it was obvious. At least six-three, and as broad-shouldered as a linebacker.

“Well, did Sandy give you the green light on me?”

Direct. She liked that. But she didn’t like the gleam in his
eyes. He could be a charmer when he wanted to, and she had no use for charmers. “He vouched for you, yes.”

“Good.” Parker laced his hands together on the scratched tabletop.

A waitress stepped up. He smiled at her, and the woman
nearly drooled. The female in Caron fully understood
that; he was a dynamite-looking man. A curl teased his left
ear. She wanted to brush it back.

“Caron?” His tone cued her he’d asked
before.

“Sorry.” What was she doing having fantasies about
touching the man? She didn’t even like him. Her face flushed hot. “Excuse me?”

“What will you have?” the waitress asked.

“Coffee.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“No. Black.” She saw the corner of Simms’s mouth turn
down, and asked the waitress, “Do you have candy bars?
Butterfingers?”

“No.” She pointed with the tip of her pencil through the
window. “Seven-Eleven does. Right across the street.”

“Thanks.”

“Sir?” The waitress shifted toward Parker, her expres
sion softening.

“Coffee, black,” he said with a smile that could undoubtedly twist an unsuspecting woman right around his
pinky.

“Yes, sir.”

Caron wasn’t unsuspecting. Her leg stung like fire. She
grimaced and slapped at it. Nothing was there, but the sting
didn’t ease. The little girl? Caron wondered.

The waitress returned with the cups. Chilled, Caron
wrapped her hands around hers to warm them. “So, Parker Simms, tell me. Why do you want to work with me when
you don’t believe there’s been an abduction?”

His cup stopped in midair. He took his time sipping, then
answered. “I don’t.”

Was he intentionally being ambiguous? “You don’t want
to work with me, or you don’t believe there’s been an ab
duction? Which do you mean?”

“Both,” he said, without a trace of remorse.

His ease made her edgy. “So why waste your time?”

“I prefer working alone.” Steam from his coffee had him
squinting. “But I’m not willing to risk being wrong about
this.”

That, she completely understood. But he was still fenc
ing with words. Direct, but cagey. She had the feeling they
were discussing two different topics, and she was only privy
to one. She was certain he hadn’t disclosed his real reasons
for getting involved. So maybe it was time to stop being
defensive and take the offensive.

“Why are you putting your backside on the line in a case
you don’t believe exists? And, please, don’t tell me it’s for
your father.”

Parker set the cup down and gave her a look free of guile.
It did more to arouse her awareness of him as a man than all the charming rascal smiles in the world heaped together.

“If you’re wrong, all I’ve lost is time. But if you’re right,
the girl’s in trouble. I have a special interest in abduction
cases, Caron. If I can, I have to help.”

Have
to, not
want
to help. Someone he loved had been
abducted. The flash of certainty stayed with her and strengthened. She bit her lip to keep from asking who. It wasn’t any of her business; she had no right to pry. But Parker still wasn’t playing straight with her, and
dishonesty rankled her more than any other vice known to
man.

She gave him a steady look. “I
have
imaged the girl.”

“So you’ve said.” His gaze was equally steady.

Pulling no punches.
 
She’d give him props for that.
 
He wasn’t convinced she was right, but
he wasn’t positive she was wrong, either. It appeared
they had stepped onto common ground. They were grant
ing each other the benefit of doubt.

He again drank from his cup, then motioned to the waitress for a refill.

The woman nearly knocked herself out getting over to
Parker fast enough with the coffeepot. Parker held up his
cup and thanked the waitress with another drop-dead smile.
Her healthy chest heaved with her indrawn breath. Simms
had a definite effect on women. Caron had to give him that.

He watched the waitress leave. “Is the guy you were
talking to at the house your kidnapper?”

Caron sputtered, nearly spraying out coffee. She’d
thought she was alone outside the sagging house; she hadn’t
sensed Parker there. “What man?”

“Forty-five or so. Five-ten or eleven. Black hair, going
gray. A slob.” Rubbing the sugar dispenser with his thumb,
Parker lifted a black brow. “Shall I go on?”

“No.” Caron gripped the vinyl seat beneath her and tried
to regroup. It was hard to accept that she hadn’t known it,
but Parker had been there, all right. He’d described the guy
at the sagging house, the first man Caron had imaged,
perfectly.

“I think, for the girl’s sake, we should try to work to
gether, Caron. Two heads are better than one—especially
when a third head is at stake.”

A third head was at stake. A helpless child’s. Caron
flinched. She didn’t trust Parker Simms. But she didn’t
trust herself to go it alone, either. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. It was the child who would suffer. Caron had to
take every precaution to ensure that the little girl didn’t end up like Sarah. Simms was a pro. The best, Sandy had said.
One of the good guys. Could she afford to refuse? Could
the little girl afford for Caron to refuse?

“So, do we give it a shot?” His gaze grew intense. “At least see if two loners can work together?”

Once again, fate had intervened. The risks were too high;
she had no choice. And she hoped she’d have no regrets.
“We give it a shot.”

Relieved, Parker slid down in the booth. For the first time since Caron Chalmers had walked over to him, the
tension knotting his insides had loosened.

The woman had slam-dunked him at Sandy’s office, and
he still hadn’t recovered. He’d had her under surveillance
for a year, but until today he’d never seen her up close. She
was tiny, maybe five-seven, and delicate-boned. There was
something about her, too, that got under his skin, and he couldn’t shake it loose. She seemed vulnerable, and pain
hid in the shadows in her eyes. He hadn’t expected any of
that.

What had he expected? Cold and calculating? Brazen and coming on to him? He knew better than that, too. In
the year he’d watched her, she’d been the model of deco
rum, a prim and proper schoolteacher who played leap
frog with her students and coached the math club. Oh,
she’d had dates, but only a few, and never twice with the
same guy. Smart, considering her sideline. She couldn’t risk
letting anyone get too close. They might see her for what
she was.

He sighed and lifted his cup. “Where do you want to
start?”

“The house.” Caron again rubbed her leg. “Either the girl is still there, or she was there.”

“Oh?” Had he missed some sign at the house that she’d
picked up on?

She held his gaze. “I saw it.”

“Saw it?”

“Saw
it.” She smoothed back her hair and pointed to her
temple. “Psychic, remember?”

 
She didn’t back down. And she didn’t flaunt her “gift,” either. That confused Parker. Human nature would have
made it natural for her to capitalize on her gift. Yet she was
damn near broke. Half of everything she made she sent to that biddy of a mother of hers over in Mississippi, who lived with Caron’s only aunt, Grace Collins. That, too, bothered Parker. It had ever since Harlan had first mentioned Caron Chalmers. If she was gifted, why didn’t she
use the gift to help herself? Financially, the woman was still
struggling.

The answer was easy, of course. She wasn’t gifted. The
fact that Harlan was six feet under now proved that.