When Night Falls (15 page)

Kirby among them. “If Armstrong needs to be picked up, I’ll get him.”

“You already tried.” For a change, Kirby looked compassionate. Child murders had a way of rattling even the most seasoned cop. “This time, more than your magic touch is needed, Jessie.”

“What about the girl’s clothes? A purse?”
Anything.
Anything that would spare Liam the gruesome task of seeing that body laid out on a sterile metal table.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” she said more to herself than Kirby. This part of the job never got any easier, the grim fact that sometimes good didn’t always win. “She was so young, had such a bright future ahead of her.”

Kirby rested a hand on her shoulder. “It might not be the Armstrong girl.”

She glanced back. “But she was someone.”

Kirby frowned. “I’m worried about you, Jessie. We’ve worked cases like this before, but I’ve never seen you this close to the edge. You need to pull back.”

She didn’t know how to tell him that was impossible. She didn’t know how to tell him this case was different than any other. She didn’t know how to tell him she’d fallen in love with the missing girl’s father.

“I can’t.”

Kirby removed his hand, but the concern in his eyes sharpened. “It’s Armstrong, isn’t it? He’s gotten to you.”

“He’s not the monster you think he is,” Jess said simply. “He didn’t kill Emily’s mother.”

“If he didn’t kill her, then he ran her off. Because of him, her family, her friends never saw her again. How’s that so different from murder? A life was lost all the same.”

She gave him a brittle smile. It was the only kind she had left. “Broken relationships aren’t a crime.”

“Tell that to the people left to pick up the pieces.”

Instinct warned Jess that Kirby’s bitterness toward Armstrong had little to do with the case. It was a manifestation of his disappointments. His hurts.

“He loves his daughter, Kirb. She’s his whole world.” And though Jess had never met the vivacious Emily Armstrong, she felt a bond with the girl, an alliance that could only form between two females who’d grown up with strong fathers.

But whereas Wallace Clark’s focus had been singular, Liam’s included his daughter.

“Hey, Jess, K.L.!” Lieutenant Jason Ander ambled over, bagel in hand. “Phil just called. Said he should have a positive ID on that girl pretty quick.”

Jess went very still. “Did they find something else?”

“Nah,” the rookie said. “The dad just got there.”

* * *

Somehow Liam made it through the door leading from the room where the body lay on a cold metal table. So beautiful, she was, even in death. Young, innocent, but she would never smile again. Never laugh.

Bile backed up in his throat. His legs shook. His heart barely beat. He glanced down the long corridor, saw the men’s room and staggered toward it.

White floors, white walls. White door. Everything was so white. Shocking white. Sterile. Dead. The smell of disinfectant permeated every inch of the place, burning so deeply into Liam’s senses he wasn’t sure he’d ever smell again.

He pushed open the door and found another sea of endless white. The urinal, the sinks. Inside him. He’d never felt so cold in his entire life. Cold like death.

The room started to spin. A merry-go-round, like Emily had loved as a child. But this one was out of control. Faster. Faster. Off its axis. Sending everyone flying. Crashing.

A raw sound of anguish ripped from his throat as he made his way to the sink. He turned the water on full blast, cold, and slapped it against his face. Over. And over. Breathing hard, he glanced up and caught sight of himself in the mirror, realized he was sheet-white, too. All but his eyes. They were dark and decimated, indicative of someplace deep inside.

The pain cut sharper, deeper. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see, and hung his head. He’d never felt so gutted in his entire life.

 
“Liam.”

He thought he heard his name, but the voice that carried it was soft and warm, and there was nothing soft or warm in this place.

“Liam.”

He looked up and saw her reflected in the mirror like a vision. Pale, trembling, her beautiful amber eyes wide. A beacon through the fog: Her life, her energy stronger than the brightest star in the night sky.

Liam had never needed the light more.

Something ragged tore from his throat as he turned to her. He wasn’t sure who moved first, only knew she was across the room, then she was in his arms. Hold her, that’s all he could think. Hold her tight. Absorb her. Never let her go.

“Oh, Liam,” she cried, running her healing hands up his back and down his arms.

He buried his face in her hair and breathed in the clean scent of apples. On a groan, he held her tighter, drowning in the feel of her arms wrapped around him, the sounds of her soft, soothing words.

God help him, he’d never needed anyone more. Not just anyone, though.
Her.
Jessica. The woman with courage and fire, conviction, the woman who kept after him no matter how hard he pushed her away.

“Liam?”

He wanted to keep holding her, but something about her voice, the apprehension in it, made him pull back to see the question burning hot in her eyes.

“She was so beautiful.” Somehow he got the words out. “Young. Innocent. All gone.
Gone.
Just like that.”

“No.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
 
“No.”

He lifted his hands to her pale face and cupped, smoothed the hair from her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and damp, devoid of pretense or defense, and in their amber depths, he found the lifeline he needed.

“I wanted to be here for you,” she whispered. “I didn’t want you to do this alone. I’m so sorry—”

He pressed his thumb to her lips. “That beautiful girl in there is some man’s daughter, Jessie, and he’ll never see her smile again, never hear her laugh.”

A spark of hope flared in her gaze. “What are you saying?”

“Not Emily. Not my little girl.”

For a heartbeat, he thought she hadn’t heard him. She stood there staring at him. Then the purest smile he’d ever seen lit her face like a bright sunrise.

“Thank God,” she whispered, then pushed up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt so right, pressed against his body. Somehow she made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Relief finally began to override the horror of seeing a young girl lying lifeless on the table. “I was so sure it
wouldn’t be her.” He ground the words out, running his hands along her slender back. “I came here to get everyone off my case. But when I saw that table, the sheet lying over a body, it all became so real.” He’d never felt more alone.

And his first thought had been of Jessica. He needed Jessica.

She pulled back and gazed at him. “It wasn’t her, Liam. It wasn’t her.”

He’d held steadfast to the belief Emily was okay, that she would burst through the front door, smiling and laughing, and life would go on. “But it could have been her. I might never see my little girl again.”

“She’s still out there, and we’re going to find her.”

But for the first time in his life, Liam realized he couldn’t make this better by sheer force of will. All the demands and threats, all the money in the world, wouldn’t necessarily bring his daughter home. And all he could think of was Jessica. He needed Jessica. Not the detective, but the woman with the compassionate eyes and gentle touch. She spoke to him like no other, knew how to reach him when no one else did, made him want to believe. Made him want to be alive.

Made him want to make her his in every way imaginable, never let her go.

And that rocked him beyond imagining. What kind of man longed for a woman’s smile, her touch, her embrace, when his daughter was missing?

The haze shattered, and Liam realized how far he’d let himself go. Appalled, he pulled back. “I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you. We can go back to your place—”

“No. Alone.”

She went very still, almost as still as the body on that table. “It’s okay to reach out. You don’t have to climb every mountain by yourself.”

But he did. He always had. It was the only way he knew. “I appreciate your concern, but I meant what I said this morning. This thing between us can’t go any further. I have to focus on Emily.”

“Don’t do this, Liam. Don’t shut yourself away from the world.”

Not the world. Just her. Because if he looked at her one second longer, at the entreaty in her gaze, he knew he’d pull her into his arms. And then he’d never be able to let her go.

“I have to,” he said, then turned and strode from the bathroom.

She didn’t follow.

* * *

Armstrong Worldwide IPO Soars Past Expectations.

Armstrong Secures New Licensing Agreement.

William Armstrong—The Toast Of The E-World.

The articles sent the blood pressure soaring, just like always. Didn’t those journalists know what the man had done? Couldn’t they see behind that king-of-the-world smile to the black heart inside? The heart of a man who ruined lives at will and never looked back to see, much less help restore, the debris?

Obviously not.

But that didn’t matter. Those who needed to know the truth knew. Too well. For all of Armstrong’s accomplishments, there were three things he’d yet to experience.

He hadn’t suffered.

He hadn’t paid.

He hadn’t atoned for his sins.

But he would. Oh, yes. He would.

Across the room, the monitor revealed Emily Armstrong pacing the length of the Spartan room. She was an amazing girl. Her loyalty was almost admirable. How in the world had she sprung from Armstrong’s seed? Maybe she had more of her mother in her then anyone realized.

“Emily.” A quick press of the intercom button brought them into contact. “You really should get some rest.”

She stopped and glared at the camera. “I want to talk to my father.”

“You know that’s against the rules.”

“I don’t care about your stupid rules. I care about my father. Just let me call him. Just for a minute.”

That was impossible. Great lengths had been taken to make sure the girl felt as comfortable as possible, to make sure she wasn’t afraid, but a phone call was out of the question. It would bring Armstrong too much relief. The man needed to suffer. He needed to know how it felt to be out of control. To be in the dark. He needed to know how it felt to hurt, to bleed. To lose.

And he would. But Emily didn’t have to.

It was time to give the girl some company.

* * *

Five angelfish swam through the fronds of an underwater fern. Their movements were graceful, like an underwater ballet. Jess sat on her sofa, watching. She wasn’t sure what time it was, only that the sun no longer shone. The bluish glow of the aquarium was the only light in her condo.

Deep inside, she hurt. She’d come home, showered and changed into her favorite flannel pajamas, but couldn’t make the cold, sick feeling go away. No matter what she did, she couldn’t destroy the image of Liam standing by himself in that sterile men’s room, hands braced against the counter, head hung. The second she’d see him, her heart had stopped.

She’d thought the worst had come to pass.

Even now, the memory left her cold and shaky.

The investigation would go on. One note had already been sent, making it likely another would follow. Notes usually meant someone wanted something. The trick was finding out what.

William Armstrong was a powerful, enigmatic man. Many believed he’d gotten away with murder, but Jess knew he no more deserved that dark cloud than he deserved to lose his daughter. He’d pushed forward in the face of great adversity and given Emily the best childhood he could.

But a man didn’t achieve what he had without making enemies. Her investigation proved that to be true, but she hadn’t found anyone who really seemed to wish him ill. Taking a child was personal. What could that person want from Liam?

The question pierced deep. She knew the most likely answers. Money and revenge, but when she thought about wanting something from Liam, another answer kept nagging at her. Because deep in her heart, she knew what she wanted. Him. There with her. Holding her. Letting her hold him.

She’d been attracted before. She’d been in relationships. But never had a look into someone’s eyes felt like fitting two pieces of a puzzle together. Never had a simple touch electrified every nerve ending. Never had the mere act of embracing someone stopped the breath in her throat.

Jess tried to concentrate on the fish but saw only the truth. It was the worst possible time for her heart to take an active role in her life. He was an anguished father. He could think of nothing but getting his daughter back, and here she was, practically daydreaming about walks down the beach, Sundays spent in bed, laughter.

Stolen moments, she knew. Dangerous thoughts for a woman responsible for finding William Armstrong’s daughter. She should be more objective. She should be doing more, be on the streets, poring over case files,
making
something happen. The last thing she had any business doing was the only thing she couldn’t seem to stop.