скачать книгу бесплатно
“I can’t help myself. Sophie should start first grade in September. From the day she was born I imagined how we’d mark each milestone in her life. Like starting school, going on her first date, graduating and…” Garnet’s voice broke.
“Don’t torture yourself, Garnet. Anyway, I have to go—I’ve got a date in fifteen minutes with Steve the Stud.”
“On a school night?” Garnet dragged her thoughts back to her friend. “Are you and Steve getting serious?”
“Are you kidding? I can’t get serious about a man whose ego is bigger than his IQ. And before you say Jenny in that shocked tone, let me say Steve knows the score. I love having a man around. That’s why I hit on the new guy. Would you believe it, Garnet? Neither Molly nor I got his name. Mr. Yummy has that lean, hungry look that appeals to my baser instincts. I suppose it’s too much to hope he’s more intelligent than most of the men we meet.”
“Jenny, you are so bad. Steve’s no dummy. If you’re going to date him, you should give him a little respect. It takes skill to be a good plumber.”
“Mama and Daddy wouldn’t let him past their front door.” Jenny sighed.
“If you’d wanted to live by their standards, you’d still be in Chicago. You can’t please them and yourself, Jenny. I came to Alaska for the same reasons. Isn’t it time you stopped spinning at the end of their rope?”
“Oh, right, like I’d want the heartache marrying Dale Patton brought you. I’ll romp with bad boys, but when I marry someone, he’ll have read something other than the Sunday comics, and he’ll know which fork to pick up first at a banquet.”
The hum of the dial tone told Garnet Jenny had hung up in a huff. They’d met in college. Garnet’s dad was a self-absorbed astronomer, Jenny’s father, the president of an elite private school. Both sets of parents were livid when their daughters went off to Alaska, a state many Easterners still thought was uncivilized.
Garnet’s family hadn’t spoken to her since she’d announced her intent to marry Dale, who’d worked on the pipeline then. They’d had a couple of good years, but Garnet had to admit that the man she’d fallen in love with had changed drastically after he lost his job. Her friends believed their arguments were all about Dale’s newfound biker buds. But Garnet didn’t object to his motorcycle. There was a time she’d loved riding on his bike. She’d thought Dale’s pirate looks added to his charm. Under the tough veneer was a soft-spoken gentleman, until suddenly he seemed to do a one-eighty turn. Certainly he’d been upset over losing his job; he hated not being the family provider. Add that to her friends’ attitude. Looking back, she accepted that the divorce had been partly her fault. Still, the last thing Garnet expected from the man she’d loved, shared her innermost feelings—and a child—with, was that he’d deal her the most hurtful blow a mother could ever experience.
She realized she was still clutching the phone. She dialed Sergeant Savage from memory. A dispatcher answered. “This is Garnet Patton. Could I speak to Gary Savage please?”
There was a brief pause before Sergeant Savage came on.
Garnet plunged straight into the reason for her call. When she’d finished, the silence went on so long she thought the connection had broken. As she was about to hang up and redial, Savage cleared his throat. “Sorry, Garnet, you took me by surprise. We haven’t hired any new officers, nor have we had any new tips on Dale. I know school’s nearly out. May I suggest using your break to get out of Anchorage? Leave a number where I can reach you and I’ll be in touch if anything comes up. I’ll reiterate what I said before. I have the necessary controls in place. I believe we’ll find Sophie. Dale will get careless, or he’ll be arrested for something else and his prints will crop up in a database. Just be patient, my dear.”
Garnet impatiently waited for Sergeant Savage to finish his spiel. “If this guy isn’t from your department, who is he? My students think he’s a reporter. Other people say he has cop written all over him.”
“We’ve talked about how there’ll be people coming out of the woodwork in cases like yours. Some have a mean streak, and some believe they’ll be able to do what cops haven’t. Then there are psychics who set out to either test their so-called powers or wait in the wings until the victims get desperate enough to hire them. Tell you what, Garnet, I’ll put out feelers around town. But I’m betting this joker falls into one of those categories. Can you give me a description?”
She offered one to the best of her memory, and heard the scratch of Gary’s pen.
“Be careful, Garnet. A few of these jerks are pure nuts. Rest assured, if anything new turns up I’ll let you know. If you set eyes on this imposter again, phone dispatch. I’ll leave a standing order to bring him in.”
Garnet hung up, more discouraged than ever. She knew there were people who preyed on the misfortunes of others. The fact remained—there’d been nothing alarming about the man she’d glimpsed at school. Anna Winkleman used the word charming to describe him. And Jenny…but Jenny had different criteria.
It might be a mistake, but Garnet decided if she saw the stranger again she’d have a word with him before phoning dispatch.
Her nerves had frayed and she found it difficult to concentrate on doing the math necessary to average final grades. Maybe a walk would clear her head. She shrugged into a sweater coat to block the chill in the air, and left her apartment.
John Carlyle stepped into the hallway as Garnet pocketed her key. “Hello, Garnet. Going out? I’m taking Hoover for his nightly walk.”
The rotund little terrier was so named because he inhaled any scrap of food that landed on the floor. Hoover loved people and had a particular fondness for Garnet, who gave him nutritious doggie treats. She felt in her pocket and came up with a couple of small lint-covered dog biscuits. “Mind if I tag along?” she asked.
“We’d be pleased. Mr. Hoover thanks you for his treats. Is something wrong with your car? You don’t usually go walking.”
After rubbing the wriggling animal’s backside, Garnet straightened and led the way to the stairs. “Sophie used to love going on walks, John. I tend to avoid the activities we did together.”
“Understandable.”
She heaved a sigh. “Not everyone agrees. I just spoke with the officer heading up my case. He’s adamant about me getting on with my life.” She stepped aside at the main door and let the courtly old gentleman open the door for her.
“Oh. So that bright young fellow I met today—the new cop on your case—he didn’t find anything new?”
Garnet stopped. “You saw him? I thought Anna Winkleman and Hazel Webber were the only ones home when he came by. Anna said you’d taken Hoover to the park. John, what did that man say? Did he give his name? You see, Sergeant Savage said there was no new cop on my case.”
“Really?” Tugging back on Hoover’s leash, Mr. Carlyle stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’m sure he told me his name. His badge certainly looked legit.” The old man’s face fell. “My hearing’s not what it used to be, Garnet. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch everything he said. His name was…Irish, maybe? Should I not have talked to him?”
She walked on, shortening her stride to match his. “Truthfully, John, I suppose he’s a curiosity seeker at best and at worst, who knows? A con man, probably. In the morning I’ll give you a number you can call if he comes around again. Savage said they’d take him in and find out what he’s up to.” She paused while Hoover sniffed a hydrant.
“I’ve always had a good radar for crooks. This fellow, whatever he is, he’s pretty convincing. I s’pose you’re teaching summer school again? I know you need the money and want to keep busy, but I hate seeing you so thin. You’re practically skin and bones.”
Her low chuckle had a catch at the end. “Actually, I’m not teaching this summer. I don’t know what I’ll do, John. I do need to fill every hour of the day but I’m burning out emotionally. I won’t be any good to next year’s students unless I back off for awhile. I hear pulling fishnets is a physically demanding job. It might be the distraction I need. Maybe I’ll drive down to Ketchikan and see if I can sign on with a salmon vessel.”
“Huh, I’d think twice about that. I spent a couple of summers during my college days on a crab boat. A stinkier, dirtier job only exists if you get stuck in one of the canneries. Darlene’s Café has a sign in the window for a waitress. I’m there at least once a week. Never been in the place that every seat isn’t taken. Wouldn’t pay what teaching does, or fishing, but it’d be a change of pace and safer than going to sea with a rough-and-tumble fishing crew.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll consider it. Maybe I’ll go by this weekend and talk to Darlene. Teaching ends this week. The kids are out tomorrow, but we have three days to clean up.”
John looked pleased that he could help. Then, as darkness fell and a misty drizzle started, they turned back, picking up their pace.
Garnet studied the cars that passed, and she took a longer look at those parked near the apartment complex.
John noticed. “You expecting a visitor tonight?”
“No. It’s nothing. I’m sure this stranger doesn’t know anything. Yet it’s been ages since our law enforcement has received a tip no matter how slim, I guess I held out hope. Silly, I know.”
Mr. Carlyle picked up his dog and opened the front door. “Not silly at all. So, for the next few days at least, if you want to walk after dark, call me. Not to scare you or anything.”
She gave an involuntary shudder. “The teachers have planned an after-school happy hour tomorrow at the Silver Springs Lounge. I didn’t commit, but Jenny Hoffman—you know her—told me she met the stranger and invited him to join us for drinks.”
John caught Garnet’s elbow. “Maybe you shouldn’t go. Whatever you do, don’t let him separate you from your friends. The lounge has a doorman. If you feel threatened, ask him to escort you to your car.”
“This is dumb.” She tossed her head, as though shaking off her anxiety. “I’ll be fine. I really doubt anyone wanting to hurt me would show his face in such a public venue. Frankly, the guy probably got his kicks and is long gone. Good night, John. Thanks for caring. I’ll be fine.”
ALL THE NEXT DAY, Garnet periodically glanced out her classroom window. At lunch, she sat on the front steps, all but daring the man in the Jeep to appear. No rust-red Jeep materialized any time that afternoon, either.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day—and the year. Students streamed into Garnet’s room to say their final goodbyes. At four o’clock, Jenny stuck her head in the room.
“What did you decide about happy hour? I’m riding with Wendy and Susan. You want to hitch? Wendy can drop you off back here to pick up your car.”
“No, thanks. I’ll drive on my own. I have a couple of things to tidy up here. Order me a Cosmopolitan, will you?”
“Oooh, you’re going whole hog. I think I’ll get one, too.”
Twenty minutes later, Garnet scanned the street between the school and her car. Still no Jeep. Nor was one parked near the lounge. She got lucky and found a parking place right outside the front door.
The last to arrive, Garnet slipped onto a stool Jenny had saved. The friends laughed, joked, toasted each other, and helped themselves to a variety of hors d’ oeuvres. A few teachers left, but Garnet had ordered a second drink when Jenny slid off her stool to leave with Wendy. “I’m seriously bummed,” she said. “The hottie’s a no-show. Come on, Garnet, we’ll walk you to your car.”
Garnet waved them away. “I’m parked right next to the door. I’ll be fine, Jenny. Considering what I paid for this drink I’m not wasting a drop. I think I’ll find a booth and order some dinner. I’ll see you Monday. We need to talk about what we’re going to do over the summer break.” Standing, Garnet hugged all three friends. The trio walked out and Garnet signaled a waiter to request a booth. He carried her drink, put it down and said, “I’ll bring you a menu.”
“No need. I’ll just have a chicken Caesar salad.”
The waiter turned away. Garnet started to sit, but felt as if she were being watched. Not uncommon. The lounge was a popular hangout.
A quick glance around the room, though, and she froze. A man who must’ve just entered was indeed staring at her. It was the stranger who’d been asking questions at school and her apartment complex. Garnet’s cheeks heated as he blatantly slid a sleepy-lidded gaze from her head to her toes and back again.
SOMEHOW, once Julian saw Jenny and the other women leave, he didn’t expect to find Garnet Patton inside. When he did spot her, he didn’t think she’d recognize him. But the instant their eyes met and he watched her square her slim shoulders and narrow her eyes, Julian knew he’d been made. He considered ducking out, although perhaps it was time to discover if her ex-husband might have a reason to be setting up housekeeping in Georgia.
Besides, from the set of her jaw as she marched toward him, she plainly had questions of her own, and she intended to get answers.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHO ARE YOU?” Garnet demanded, nervously tugging down the sleeves of her sweater. “Why are you asking questions about me?”
Julian started to hedge his answer. But the lightbulbs around the bar mirror highlighted the fragile shadows under her eyes, indicating she was far more vulnerable than the rigid set of her spine suggested.
“I’m Julian Cavenaugh. I’m a detective from Atlanta,” he explained, noting her deepening frown. At this point, Julian was hoping to see a spark of recognition, something to indicate she’d heard of the area. Nothing was forthcoming. Instead, she shook her head, loosening strands of pale hair from a silver clip at her neck.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
And Julian could see she didn’t. “Please, won’t you sit down? I’ll try to explain. As well, I think your waiter lost you. The poor guy’s looking confused. I’d hate to be responsible for him taking your dinner back to the kitchen.”
His soft drawl and winsome smile caused Garnet to look back at her booth. Giving an ever-so slight nod, she made her way through the crowded room to her table. She apologized to her waiter.
“I saw your jacket was still here,” he said, beaming. “Is there anything else I can get you, miss?” He set her salad down and shook open a snowy linen napkin. Then he apparently noticed Julian hovering to his left.
Garnet sat and reluctantly motioned to the opposite seat. “Please bring the gentleman a menu.” She eyed her drink, then pushed the glass aside, and said, “I’d like coffee, please. Black.”
“I’ll take a dark ale. Whatever’s on tap.” Julian closed the menu. “I’d like your best steak with whatever fixings it comes with.” Offering Garnet another smile, he added, “Can I talk you into ordering something more substantial than rabbit food and high-octane caffeine? I promise I don’t mean you any harm. I haven’t bitten anyone since I was three. Suzie Walker from down the street. And she bit me first, and harder.”
Arching an eyebrow, Garnet moved croutons aside with her fork and spread the fresh Parmesan. “My salad is loaded with chicken, which won’t clog my arteries. I’d point out you don’t know anything about me or my habits, good or bad, but that’s not true, is it, Mr. Cavenaugh? You’ve been asking my friends a lot of personal questions.”
“Julian, please.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.
His beer came and they both fell silent a moment. “So, you’re a cop, not a reporter?” Garnet continued to pick at her salad, and Julian fidgeted with his cutlery and the salt and pepper shakers. He showed her his badge, returning it to his jacket pocket distractedly.
As his silence dragged on, Garnet worried that once again she’d pinned her hopes on a stranger who would disappoint her. Long ago, Garnet had vowed she’d risk everything, even meet with the devil himself if it would lead to her daughter’s whereabouts.
Now, as she studied the man seated across from her—his hawkish features and black hair curling stubbornly over his ears—she thought it was entirely possible she’d done exactly that.
“I don’t quite know where to start,” Julian said, tracing a line down the damp glass with his finger.
Garnet set down her fork and clasped her hands to keep them still. “Please, oh, please, if this has anything to do with Sophie just tell me straight out.”
Affected by her ragged voice, Julian looked away and drank from his beer. He dug in his shirt pocket and removed the grainy photograph he’d taken of the little Hackett girl at her front window. The one where he’d caught her in partial profile. He slid the snapshot across the table.
Garnet snatched it up with a strangled cry. Questions poured out one after another. “When, ah, where? How? It’s so unclear. Is this Sophie?”
Trying to tread carefully, Julian leaned forward. “What do you think?”
“Oh, God. I wish I could be sure. This was taken from too far away.” She placed the picture gently on the table. “It’s been over a year. That day, I let her dress herself for preschool. She chose pink cords, a frilly white blouse and bright red sneakers. At lunchtime, my ex-husband arrived at Sophie’s preschool unannounced. He barged past office staff who knew he shouldn’t have access and took her. The last time I saw her was when I dropped her off. In my dreams, she looks exactly as she did then. Realistically, I know she’s changed. She’s probably lost her baby fat.”
Julian said nothing, letting Garnet fill the silence. “Dale—my ex—and I finalized a bitter second custody hearing two days before he kidnapped her. The police think the fact that I was given full custody set him off. Friends said they’d seen Dale drinking excessively. Someone had witnessed him losing his temper.” Tears filled her eyes as she picked up the photo and caressed it with her thumb. “Why would you make the trip from Georgia to Alaska to show me a fuzzy photo? You called yourself a detective. Are you a private detective? Who hired you? Wayne Jenkins is the last P. I. I paid to find Sophie. He stopped his search when I couldn’t scrape together his monthly retainer. Did he approach you for some reason?”
“No. I have nothing to do with Wayne Jenkins.” Pausing to accept his steak and assure the waiter that the meat was cooked to his liking, Julian swallowed a small bite. He needed to tread cautiously. He hadn’t intended to reveal his reason for meddling in her life, but because she’d obviously been hurt in the past, he decided to share a bit more of his background. “I work for the Atlanta PD. But I’m on vacation. The truth is I have absolutely no official status in your case.”
She stared at him from teary eyes.
Julian shifted under her gaze. “Uh, my parents live in a small town about thirty miles outside Atlanta. Pop’s a postman nearing retirement. Part of his job…” Julian hesitated before continuing. “Part of his job is delivering cards that feature pictures of missing children. Pop loves kids, so he takes it very seriously.” Julian sawed off a piece of steak and stabbed it with his fork. He had no idea how fiercely he glared at it until Garnet reached across and tentatively touched his hand.
“The sergeant handling my case contacted the organization that does the postcards. We worked with them and the FBI for several months. I’m told they never close the book on a case until a missing child turns up safely…or dead,” she whispered, punctuating her obvious worry with a sob.
“Stop that,” Julian pleaded. “I’m trying to say my dad has a file box full of those cards. He sees any new families on his route, he keeps an eye open. But here’s the kicker. Once, a long time ago, when my brothers, my sister and I were in school, Pop was sure he’d found a boy on one of those cards. He was dead wrong, and a lot of people got real upset.”
“Are you trying to say that your father saw Sophie’s card and…and thinks the child in this photograph is her?”
Julian heard the hope in her voice, and tried not to encourage it. “What I’m telling you is that Pop was way off the mark the other time he thought he was right. A lot of people in our town, my family included, were adversely affected. I’m older and wiser now, and in a better position to protect him from making another mistake. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, of course.” She made the appropriate response, but Julian could tell she’d grabbed on to the notion and had already let it grow by leaps and bounds.
“Eat,” he ordered, pointing at her virtually untouched salad with his steak knife. Scowling, he dug in to his baked potato and vegetables.
Garnet grabbed her fork and began spearing lettuce like a dutiful child. She even managed to swallow some, despite finding it difficult to remain still.
Her hopefulness kept Julian from bringing out the second photo—the one of a happily smiling Lee Hackett dancing around his garage with his equally joyous daughter. The little girl this lovely woman across from him wanted to be her missing Sophie.
“Before you get too invested in this,” Julian said seriously, “there are other questions that need to be considered. For instance, does your husband, uh, Sophie’s father, have relatives or friends living in the south?”
Her face fell, but she rallied to say coolly, “Dale is my ex-husband, and I’m not aware if he has family outside of Washington, but I’ll call his mother. His parents live in an assisted-living center in Washington State. An older brother farms in the Skagit Valley, also in Washington. What friends he has live here in Anchorage. But I’m the custodial parent and Dale took Sophie against a court order allowing him only supervised visits. If you know where he is, isn’t it your duty as a law officer to arrest him for kidnapping?”
“Yes. If it’s your daughter in the snapshot. That’s a big if.”
For the first time, Garnet realized this man had her at a disadvantage. Other than claiming to have come from Atlanta, Detective Cavenaugh had been very careful to give nothing away. Nothing Garnet could use to track Sophie on her own.
“I officially finish work for the summer next Wednesday,” she said. “I’ll book a flight tomorrow if you’ll tell me where I can see her for myself.” She stared at the photograph, as if willing the picture to sharpen.
“Oh, right,” Julian drawled. “And if it is her, what’s to stop your ex from murdering you and taking off with her again?”
“Dale would never do that.” She lifted her chin defiantly and drilled him with her eyes.
“Excuse me, I thought you told me he had a temper.”
“A… One coworker said she saw him lose it after I petitioned for divorce. I only ever saw moodiness. That started after he was laid off from his job and couldn’t find work. I was pregnant with Sophie at the time.”
“So, you two didn’t fight?”
She fiddled with her knife. “That depends on your definition of fighting. Dale thought we should pack up and go to Washington. Move in with his brother. But he had no job prospects there, so I balked at quitting my teaching job. I have tenure, plus my job provided us with insurance, and we had a baby due.”
Julian finished his potato while contemplating her last statement. “I wish you’d eat,” he said, making it clear he intended to clean his plate. “If this is all you normally eat, you won’t last a day on the hunt. Georgia is three thousand miles from here.”
