Operation Reunion (3 page)

She broke off as Cutter’s head came up suddenly. His eyes had been closed as Kayla petted him—in fact, he’d seemed to be snoozing as she stroked her fingers over his soft fur—but something had clearly brought him to alert. She’d heard nothing, but her ears weren’t as keen as a dog’s. As Kayla glanced around, she saw nothing different than it had been moments ago. There had been a few people coming and going while they’d been here, and the dog hadn’t reacted at all.

She would have written it off to unfamiliar dog behavior if not for two things; Hayley never finished her sentence, and Quinn immediately stood up. And suddenly he was no longer the friendly man with the nice smile, but someone altogether different, alert, ready and capable. He glanced around much as she had, but then he looked at the dog, watching, waiting, as if for some signal.

Cutter’s head moved sharply in what looked, impossibly, like a nod.

“What have you got, boy?” Quinn’s voice was low, and Kayla heard something in it that hadn’t been there before, some edge that made her think Quinn could be a very dangerous man. The dog made an answering sound she couldn’t quite describe. Hayley stayed silent, her gaze flicking from man to dog and back, waiting.

The only thing Kayla was sure of was that this, or something like it, had happened often enough that none of the three found it unusual.

She shifted to look around again, wondering what had set the dog off. He seemed to have settled on a direction now, looking out toward the street. And then, unexpectedly, his tail began to wag just slightly. She looked that way and saw nothing amiss—an older couple walking arm in arm, a kid on a skateboard, a man crossing the street from the post office parking lot, a car—

Her gaze shot back to the man. A man heading quickly toward them. The way he moved, with that easy grace and long stride, the way he held his head, the gleam of the morning sun on dark hair....

Dane.

Her pulse kicked up, as it always did at the sight of him. But how had the dog known, of all the people around this morning, that this was the one? And what was he doing here anyway?

Hope leaped in her, but she quashed it; Dane hadn’t been angry when they’d parted, or she would have nurtured that hope that he would, as he always had before, get over it. He’d been quietly weary in a way that told her as nothing else could that he was done.

“It’s not that I don’t admire your loyalty,” he’d said. “I do. I just could have used a little more of it myself.”

She shivered at the memory of the words and of her own freezing reaction when she’d realized, for the first time, he’d used the past tense.

“You know him?” Quinn’s voice broke through the awful memory, and that edge in it shook her back to the present.

“Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t think of another thing to say that would explain who this man was to her. There were no words that were adequate. But as she looked at Quinn, then Hayley, she realized she didn’t have to.

They knew.

Chapter 3

“W
ho the hell are you?”

Dane stared at the man standing between him and Kayla. The guy looked tough, solid and ready for anything. Just about matched his own mood, Dane thought. Which made no sense; who Kayla hung out with wasn’t his business anymore. Not that that had stopped him from bolting over here when he’d spotted her with two strangers.

“He’s my fiancé.” Dane’s gaze snapped to the woman who had been sitting beside Kayla. It was further evidence of his mood that he hadn’t really focused on her before; she was lovely, and if her words hadn’t completely disarmed him, her smile might have. “I’m Hayley Cole, and this is Quinn Foxworth. Behave, both of you.”

Dane wasn’t sure if she meant him and Quinn or Quinn and the dog. The dog who was looking at him in the oddest way. Not in the love-filled, melt-your-heart kind of way Lilah always had, but with an intensity that spoke of a clever brain behind those amber-flecked dark eyes.

“And you, I gather, are Dane.”

The man’s voice was steady, with no particular inflection, but Dane couldn’t help thinking this was a man who would react quickly and effectively if necessary.

It hit him somewhat belatedly that this stranger had known who he was. And the only way that could be was that Kayla had told him.

His gaze shifted quickly to the woman who had been part of his life for so long. Had she really told these strangers about him? Maybe even how he’d walked out on her, telling her wrenching story, making anybody who hadn’t lived it with her over the past ten years wonder what kind of heartless bastard left a woman whose life had been torn apart like that?

A sense of betrayal filled him, and he took a step back. But it turned out to be only a half-step; somehow the dog had gotten in his way and he had to stop.

“I thought you were through with me,” Kayla said. Her voice was quiet, unemotional. And that sparked a new feeling in him, one that was almost anger. She didn’t even think they were worth fighting for?

That he didn’t want to fight with her, that he never had, was something he cast aside just now. He focused on the fact that she sounded so calm. As if she’d processed that it really was over. And instead of crying over it, or getting angry at him, she was...accepting?

“So that’s it?” he said sharply, ignoring the three unknown onlookers. “You just quit on us?”

“You’re the one who left.” She gestured with the note. “And he’s still out there, Dane.”

“Yeah. And I’m here. I’ve done nothing but support you and love you and help you for ten years, while that spoiled, manipulative brother of yours plays with you, taunts you, but is too big of a coward to come back and deal with the mess he left you with.”

“Dane! He’s not—”

He held up his hands; he really had had enough.

“He always skated by on his looks. He used you, took for granted that you’d always worship your big brother.” Dane grimaced. “And I guess he was right about that.”

His anger faded as once more the reality hit him in the face. This time she was silent when he took a breath. And he realized he had no right to stay upset at her for talking about them—and him—to strangers when he’d just dumped a pile of dirty laundry in front of them. To their credit, they’d said nothing, but they hadn’t left them alone either.

“I tried, Kayla. I really tried.” He heard his own voice, realized he sounded as tired as he felt after that last burst of pained rage and resentment. “But I can’t play second fiddle to your fixation any longer. I won’t. The woman I...loved is buried beneath this obsession and I can’t find her anymore. You’re on your own.”

“That’s just it,” Kayla said, showing a spark of spirit now. “I’m not on my own anymore.”

She waved toward the couple standing a couple of feet away in a gesture that seemed to include the dog.

“They’re going to help find Chad.”

Suspicion bit as hard and deep as that dog probably could if motivated. Ignoring the jab of pain at the reminder that, although she’d given up on them, she obviously wasn’t about to give up on her obsession, Dane spun on his heel to stare at the trio. On the surface they looked harmless enough—handsome guy, beautiful woman, nice-looking dog. Quite the picture they presented.

He didn’t believe it for a minute. And he hadn’t forgotten his first impression of the man as someone not to take lightly.

“Are they?” he said, focusing on the man introduced as Quinn. “And just how much do they want you to pay for this ‘help’?”

One corner of Quinn’s mouth quirked, and Dane saw something flicker in the man’s eyes, something that looked strangely like approval.

“Nothing,” Kayla said.

Dane turned his head to look at her. “Haven’t you learned? Didn’t that phony P.I. and that guy who took you for five grand in California teach you anything?”

Kayla flushed. He hated doing it, but somebody had to protect her from herself, and right now he was the only one around.

The dog moved and, oddly, came to sit between him and Kayla. The animal looked from him to her and back, with an expression that looked for all the world like impatience. Dane shook his head; he loved dogs, but he didn’t usually impart human qualities to them.

“Quinn?”

It was the other woman who’d spoken, drawing his gaze. She looked the picture of innocence, which made him even more suspicious.

“Yes,” the man said. “I think so.”

Another stab of pain shot through him. He and Kayla had been like that once, able to communicate without words. But lately he’d quit trying, or even asking what she was thinking, because his gut knew one more admission that she was worrying about her brother would send him over the edge.

And it had.

“Walk with me,” Quinn said. Dane eyed him warily. “You have questions,” the man said in answer to his look. “I’ll give you all the answers you want.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe you?”

“No,” Quinn said. “I expect you to do your homework and then decide if you believe us.”

That surprised him enough to make him follow the man’s lead. And if he wanted to be out of earshot of Kayla, it could mean he wanted to hear the other side of the story.

“That note she got today...” Quinn began as they neared a stand of cedar trees along one edge of the park.

“Don’t bother. I know exactly what it said. ‘I didn’t do it. I love you. I’m sorry. Forget about me.’ Even as he keeps sending them so there’s no hope she ever could.”

Quinn stopped walking and turned to look at him.

“I know that sounds harsh,” Dane said, “given what she’s been through.”

“Crimes like that have a far-reaching ripple effect,” Quinn said. “They touch many more lives than just the immediate family.”

The rather detached yet undeniably true observation made Dane take a second look at the man. He was as tall as he himself, and while Dane biked and ran to keep in shape, he doubted he was as strong as this guy looked. He’d been thinking of adding some weights to his regimen, and just looking at the arms on this guy was enough to convince him.

“Look, I know she loved Chad, but he was...”

“Spoiled and manipulative?”

Dane’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Chad never once had to suffer the consequences of his actions in his entire life.”

“His parents protected him?”

Dane nodded. “He was the firstborn, and he was spoiled rotten. Until Kayla came along. He was jealous at first, but she adored him so much he finally decided he liked it. She would do anything for him, and he wasn’t above using that.”

“You didn’t know them back then.”

He didn’t sound particularly accusatory, but Dane was raw enough that he answered a bit sharply.

“Their father told me the first part. The last part I saw for myself. Chad used Kayla from the day he realized she was smarter than he was. I don’t know how many school papers he conned her into writing for him, even though she was two years younger. Or how many times he convinced her to lie for him, cover for him, with their parents. A couple of times she even took the blame for something he did when he was skating too close to the edge with their father.”

“How long did that go on?”

“Until I was able to convince her she wasn’t doing him any favors.”

Again Quinn studied him for a moment. “You’ve always had her best interests at heart.”

It didn’t seem to be a question, but it reminded Dane he should be worrying about those best interests now. “Who are you? And what’s all this crap about helping Kayla find Chad?”

“It’s what we do.”

“Find missing persons? You some kind of private investigator? Because she’s been there, and she got taken. I proved that and convinced her to give up on them,” he ended with a pointed glare at Quinn.

He didn’t mention the large insurance policy their parents had had, with Kayla and Chad as sole beneficiaries. It wasn’t a huge fortune, but it was enough to tempt unscrupulous types. Hayley Cole seemed innocent enough, but there was an edge about this man that made him wonder. He just hoped Kayla hadn’t been foolish enough to say anything about the money. He didn’t think she would; she might be foolishly obsessed, but she was far from a fool, and she’d learned her lesson after that P.I. ripped her off.

Of course, he also didn’t know how much of that money was left after ten years of pouring it into her endless search.

“No, we’re not private investigators,” Quinn said. “We don’t work for just anybody. Only people we believe in.”

“And you do it for free? Right.” He’d slipped from skepticism into outright sarcasm, but Dane didn’t care. He might be through with Kayla, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care at all; he couldn’t turn it off like a faucet.

“That’s why we’re very particular about what we take on.” The man’s mouth quirked wryly. “Unless it’s somebody Cutter brings to us.”

Dane blinked. “The dog?”

Quinn sighed. “It’s a long story. But the bottom line is, he’s better than a lie detector.”

The whimsy of that, coming from a man like Quinn Foxworth, almost made Dane smile. But his own reaction made him even more wary; he knew predators often used animals to lull their targets into trusting them. They didn’t seem the type, but did the type ever really seem like the type? He shook his head before his thoughts got even more muddled.

“I think your canine lie detector misfired on this one,” he said.

“Kayla mentioned you and Chad didn’t get along. Were there other reasons?”

Dane’s jaw tightened. “Nothing that has anything to do with this. Why should I believe anything you say?”

Quinn looked at him thoughtfully. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “I’m not going to give you answers you’ll question. Find your own answers. Do that homework.”

“You can count on it,” Dane said, letting more than a hint of warning into his voice. “And you stay away from Kayla until I do.”

Chapter 4

D
ane leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer monitor, tapping his pen on the note pad at his side. The top page was full of scribbled notes; his search had been easier than he’d expected. And quicker. It had only taken him a couple of hours to become convinced.

He’d ignored most of the stuff on the website for the Foxworth Foundation. Anybody, as he knew better than most, could put together a website and put anything they wanted on it. It was a sad fact that if it looked genuine enough, far too many people took it at face value. The Foxworth site gave away very little information, however, as if anybody who went looking for it had to already know what they did.

But he’d noted the areas across the country that had contact numbers for them and then called local authorities in those places. Many had never heard of the foundation and some had heard of them but not had any contact with them, but a few had dealt with them directly, and it was those he concentrated on.

The results were impressive, to say the least. More than one cop or D.A. he spoke to admitted they’d been wary at first, or even irritated that Foxworth was treading their turf, but because most of the cases were cold anyway, they’d decided to let it play out, figuring the amateurs wouldn’t be able to do much anyway.

“Boy, were we wrong,” one detective told him. “They wrapped up a rape and murder case we’d had to move on from years ago. And they didn’t care about taking credit for it either, which smoothed some ruffled feathers around here.”

And that seemed to be the theme from the official side. And there were enough stories like that to make him begin to believe the Foxworth Foundation might be for real. So he’d gone on to track down stories about those cases and then find some of the people involved, the people who had turned to Foxworth for help.

The stories there were even more impressive, and the praise imparted was heartfelt and moving. Not only for the success rate, but for the kind of things they took on. From reuniting long separated family members to helping a troubled teenager find the right path, from giving a lost soul a new lease on life to giving a grieving family a reason they could bear for someone’s suicide.

And then there was the stolen locket. It was the only memento an adopted child had had of her real mother, and it seemed Foxworth had set upon finding that as wholeheartedly as they had what some would consider more important cases.

He shook his head and sat upright. What he should be focusing on, he told himself, was the fact that on more than one occasion, Foxworth had been instrumental in proving the innocence of people suspected of crimes. Nothing quite as grim as Kayla’s parents’ murders, but still....

Maybe they could. They seemed to be very good at what they did, and he couldn’t deny he liked the idea of what they did.

He picked up the business card and looked at it for a moment. He thought of the stories he’d heard, how many people had said simply, “Someone gave me their card and told me they could help.”

He picked up the phone again. This time he dialed the number on the card. To his surprise, Quinn Foxworth himself answered.

“It’s a policy we have,” the man explained. “Each card has our own number on it. We like to maintain consistency of contact.”

“Don’t you get a lot of spam calls that way?”

“Some. Better that than make somebody who’s feeling helpless jump through the hoops of a big phone menu system.”

He heard sounds in the background, some equipment running and the familiar harsh honk of a heron passing overhead; Quinn was obviously outside.

“What if you can’t answer right then?” he asked.

“Then it rolls over to our head office. But a live person will always answer.”

“That’s in St. Louis?”

“Been doing that homework, I see.”

“Yes. Detective Saunders in Phoenix says hello, by the way, and Mrs. Louis sends her love.”

Quinn laughed. “I thought you might be thorough.”

“Yes.”

He heard the sound of a door and the background noises ended. Dane wondered where Quinn was, where he’d stepped inside.

“So have you decided we’re who we say we are and do what we say we do?” Quinn asked.

“Let’s just say I’m open to the idea.”

“Fair enough. And I’m ready to believe that you had nothing to do with Kayla’s murders.”

Dane went still. “What?”

“Your alibi was solid.”

“Yes, it was.” He’d been with five other kids and a teacher at a college prep study session at the time of death, and he’d never left or been out of sight. He had been home barely fifteen minutes when Kayla’s horrific screams from next door had sent him racing over there. “What the hell are you doing investigating me?”

“We’re working for Kayla. We’ll do whatever it takes to get her the answers she wants.”

“Even if it means wasting time on innocent people?”

“If Kayla’s right, that means the real guilty person is still out there.”

Dane couldn’t argue with that. It was something he thought about often, even if Kayla didn’t seem to.

And it was the size of that “if” that always threw him.

“Ready to tell me why you and Chad Tucker didn’t get along?”

“Hasn’t Kayla already told you?”

“I’d like your version.”

“Why?”

“We don’t build the kind of success rate we have by only listening to one side.”

“Fair enough,” Dane said. “I didn’t like him. Part of it was that in school I was one of the nerdier kids, and Chad was one of the cool guys.”

“You don’t look like much of a nerd.”

“That’s because Kayla challenged me to change that.”

“Challenged you?”

“She said we couldn’t change the fact that people judged on appearance and bought into stereotypes—except by breaking that stereotype. So I started running, lifting weights to get into shape. Found I liked it, and it cleared my head for the tech stuff. And she was right. People looked at me differently, tolerated the...geek in me because that wasn’t all I was.”

“So she’s as wise as she seems.”

“Wiser. She was fourteen at the time. Still just the girl next door, who felt like the little sister I never had.”

“But she already had a big brother.”

“Yeah,” Dane said, his tone sour. “And Chad didn’t like me either.”

“Not surprising, if you saw through him.”

Quinn really was open to the idea that Chad might not be the good guy Kayla insisted he was, Dane thought. So he’d meant it when he’d said they weren’t taking her viewpoint as the only one. Encouraged by that, he went on.

“When Kayla turned sixteen and her folks let her date, Chad kept trying to set Kayla up with his best friend, Troy Reid. I’d started to look at her differently then, and he wanted to get her away from me. Her folks went along with him—they adored Troy, he was the catch of the whole town, and they thought I was too...something. Her mom, especially.”

“But it didn’t work. Kayla stayed with you.”

“She’s incredibly...loyal.”

He stumbled over the word, remembering how he’d thrown the word at her the day he’d finally walked away.

“Were there other reasons Chad didn’t like you?”

Dane had the uncomfortable feeling Quinn already knew. What was that they told lawyers, about never asking a question you don’t already know the answer to? Hell, maybe this Quinn was a lawyer, for all he knew.

“He got into some trouble, a couple of times, right after they moved here.”

“Stole a bike, joyriding in a senior citizen’s car, breaking into a convenience store for cigarettes?”

So he did know. Dane filed that away to remember when dealing with this man.

“The bike was mine.”

“And you reported it.”

“My folks did. I didn’t care all that much by then—I’d started to drive, but it was a really good bike. And I remembered Chad asking how much it was worth.”

“And you told the police that?”

“Yes. And they tracked it down, found who he’d sold it to.” Dane jammed his fingers through his hair. “Even then he blamed somebody else. Said Rod Warren, a local punk, had put him up to it. But Chad was no angel, no matter what Kayla thinks.”

“Do you think he could have killed them?”

Dane sighed. How long had he been wrestling with that thought? How many times had be been on the verge of telling Kayla just that, only stopping himself because he couldn’t bear to see her face if he turned on her. Because that’s how she’d see it, he was sure.

In the end, he gave Quinn the answer that had always been his bottom line, even as he realized it stemmed more from his love for his own parents and an inability to relate to the idea of parental murder, than a real belief in Chad’s innocence.

“He had no reason to. They were good people. They loved him.”

“The police seem pretty certain. He was their only real suspect.”

“I know. After he ran, I don’t think they ever really focused on anyone else.”

“They’re a small department, overloaded, and they labeled the case cold fairly quickly. Not their fault—they just don’t have the manpower.”

“Kayla keeps pushing them, but...”

“They’re down to wanted posters and flyers and the occasional search of criminal databases, probably spurred by her pushing.”

“And everything is still focused on Chad.”

“Yes.”

“But Kayla’s right about the fact that there’s an innocent explanation for all the evidence,” Dane said, feeling the need to be fair despite it all. “They found cigarette butts with his DNA outside, but he always snuck out there to smoke. His fingerprints were on the den window, but that’s how he always snuck out.”

“All true.”

“But he ran,” Dane said, coming down to the final, damning fact.

“Never a good sign.” Quinn sounded completely neutral, like a man who truly hadn’t made up his mind. “If it wasn’t Chad, who do you think it could have been?”

He had spent literally years batting that one around in his mind. “The only one who ever seemed likely to me was Rod. He tried to hang with Chad, but Troy was too straight-arrow to like him, so that got in the way. For that matter, I always wondered why Troy hung with Chad—they were so different.”

“Why did Rod seem likely?”

“He scared Kayla once when she tried to stop him from some kind of twisted experiment with setting butterflies on fire. He...touched her.”

Quinn was silent for a moment. “And did he ever again?”

“No. He did not even go near her. Ever.”

“I see,” Quinn said with what sounded like amusement and understanding. “So, is this Rod still around?”

“Yeah. And he’s been in trouble a few times. Breaking into houses and stealing cash.”

“Sounds promising. Did the police look at him?”

“They did,” he admitted. “But he gave them an alibi they believed.”

Quinn didn’t miss the inference. “But you didn’t?”

“The alibi was that he was with another kid. One he used to harass. Unmercifully. Really harsh stuff. But the kid swore Rod was with him. The cops bought it, figured the kid had no reason not to but every reason to finger Rod if he could.”

“But?”

“After that, the harassment stopped.”

“So you think he made a deal with the kid?”

Dane shrugged. “Couldn’t prove it, but it seemed...coincidental, to say the least.”

“We’ll check him out,” Quinn said.

“What the hell can you do that the cops can’t?”

“We have resources. And sources. Time. The manpower. And we have an open mind about Chad’s guilt.”

“What if you come to believe he’s guilty?”

“Then we’ll tell Kayla just that. Gently but honestly. Hayley’s good at that.”

A memory of the couple as they’d stood together this morning in the park shot through his mind. Quinn had constantly been touching Hayley, and vice versa. Little brushes, a touch on the arm, brushing back an errant strand of hair. Even when they were clearly focused on something else, they were still touching, even if it was as simple as standing so close their arms touched. Not quite joined at the hip, but close.

Dane recognized it because he and Kayla were the same way.

Pain jabbed through him, knotting his gut. He and Kayla had been the same way.

“Can you really do this? Can you put an end to this one way or another?”

He didn’t care that he sounded angry. And he knew quite well he wasn’t asking the real question. Asking that would sound more pitiful than he was willing to sound before a man like Quinn Foxworth.

“We can. And we have people who will help Kayla deal with whatever we find.”

His confidence was bracing. Dane had spent so long being unable to do anything, about Kayla or her obsession, that he’d slid into unfamiliar territory—hopelessness.

If what he’d learned today was true, these people were the best and brightest at what they did. If they couldn’t find Chad, maybe Kayla would finally admit it was over, maybe she would finally move on.

Maybe he’d moved his things a bit too soon. He tried not to let hope rise too far. But it was one last shot, the last chance for them, and he couldn’t say no.