Did You Miss Me? (8 page)

Daphne hadn’t been a prisoner, per se. She had been free to leave the Elkhart estate – with her mother-in-law’s permission and if accompanied by a bodyguard. Which was Elkhart-ese for a chaperone. She could leave on her own terms anytime she chose – but only if she left Ford behind. That was something she would not do.

So she’d stuck it out for twelve years. Flanked by a cheating husband and a despotic mother-in-law, Daphne had been lonely every day of her marriage. If it hadn’t been for Ford, she wasn’t sure what she’d have done. Taking care of him, watching him grow, had made each day worth waking up to.

Now he was a man nearly grown.
He doesn’t need his mama anymore
.
And as thrilled as I am that he’s becoming independent, I’m as alone as I’ve ever been, with no prospects in sight
.

Prospects
. Her mind seemed to go there often these days and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Her nest was empty and the years ahead were looming even emptier. The nights were starkly silent, the murmur of the television and the bark of her dog the only things separating her home from a tomb.

But days were worse. Working with Grayson meant overhearing the phone calls with the woman he loved, the
I-love-you
s and the
Bring-home-a-carton-of-milk
s. The phrases that, quilted together, made a life.

A beautiful life. The kind of life she’d always wanted.

I envy Paige
. Daphne didn’t begrudge her friend an ounce of happiness, but seeing the joy in Paige’s dark eyes every time she spoke Grayson’s name . . . 
It shines a spotlight on my table for one
.

It wasn’t like she had no options at all. She’d had a number of offers – most for no-string flings.
Not interested
. She wanted a man who could go the distance. A keeper. She wanted for richer and poorer. In sickness and in health.
Dream on
.

Since her divorce, there had been a few men along the way who’d wanted the same. Nice guys. But there was no . . . spark.
I want spark
.
I deserve some spark
.

She’d thought she found some spark, months ago. He’d made her eyes widen and her heart race. Still did, every time she’d seen him since. Which, as fate would have it, had become frequently. The brother of her boss and the future brother-in-law of her best friend, he’d become damn near unavoidable.

At first she’d considered this a boon. She’d see him at fundraising events, the sight of him in a tux – all tall, dark, and dangerous – taking her breath away. In the past three months he’d become a regular at Paige’s karate school, watching his youngest sister, Holly, with a pride that had her eyes misting. Daphne would notice him. Always.

But he never seemed to notice her.
I guess he doesn’t find me as compelling as I find him
. Because every time she ran into him at the karate school, he kept his distance.
Like I’ve got the damn plague
.

Although it was far more likely that he found her too brash.
Provincial
. That was the word her ex-husband had used – often and with a sneer. She’d learned early in her marriage that ‘provincial’ was just an upper-crust way of saying ‘white trash’.

She’d found as the years passed that no amount of polish could make her a true Elkhart, with their Mayflower pedigree and their refined manners. She’d go to her grave a ‘provincial’. So when the marriage was over, she’d embraced her provinciality.

I’m me again
.
Love me or leave me
. Beehive hair, bold colors, and a sassy twang had become her trademarks. She softened her image a bit when it came to court, but inside . . . 
I’m me and I’m not changing
. Even for a man who set her heart pumping like a bat out of hell. Especially for him.
Love me or leave me
.
Just the way that I am
.

She’d expected more of Joseph Carter. His family was lovely – giving, open and friendly. Down-to-earth, despite their wealth. And he was, too – with them.
With me
 . . . 
well, there isn’t anything to comment on there
. He ignored her.
Like I don’t exist
.

Which stung.
Okay, it hurts
.
A lot
. But not what she should be thinking about now.

She was at the front door, seconds from a wall of flashing lights and reporters screaming their questions. She ran a nervous hand over her hair, fidgeted with the top button on her coat. All buttoned and tucked, none of Deputy Welch’s blood showing.

‘You look fine,’ Grayson murmured, ‘but sad. You won today. Don’t let the Millhouses take that away from you or from the Turners. May they finally rest in peace.’

He was wrong about the direction her mind had taken but right in what he’d said. Daphne’s selfishness shamed her.
This is not about you
.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I needed a little perspective adjustment.’

The door opened and immediately the yelling began. The mikes and the cameras.

‘Showtime,’ Grayson whispered in her ear. ‘You earned this success, so knock ’em dead.’ He stepped to the side, leaving her to face the media cameras alone.

Tuesday, December 3, 11.00
A.M.

Clay stared out the passenger side window of Joseph Carter’s Escalade, trying not to think of his friend. Lying in an alley, his throat sliced open. All night. Alone.

But the picture was there in his mind, joining the others that haunted him when he couldn’t sleep. Which was most nights of his life.
Tuzak
.
I’m sorry, man
.

A wave of grief squeezed his chest.
Don’t think
.
Listen to Carter
. Who was on the phone with his CO.
Listen, learn
.
So that you can find who did this
.

‘He might have a decent eye,’ Carter was saying to his CO, grudgingly.
He’s talking about that asshole Novak
.
Not much of a bodyguard, my ass
. ‘He found what looks like Ford Elkhart’s hair and blood on the asphalt in the alley. But he’s about as tactful as a bull in a china shop.’

Clay tensed. That they’d found Ford’s hair and blood was bad news, but news.

News was the reason Clay sat in Carter’s fancy SUV and not his own car. He didn’t have to be here. Carter wanted him here so that he didn’t ‘go cowboy’, but the Fed had no authority over him, here or anywhere else.
I’m here because I want to be here
. He’d hear Carter talk about details that he’d never know about working solo.

They’d been in the car less than five minutes when Joseph had told his CO that Tuzak’s killer had slit his throat after he was dead. Clay hadn’t noticed the lack of spatter. Carter had a good eye, too. And he’d been right.
I’m not objective right now
.

Tuzak’s killer had all but cut off his head
after
he was already dead. There’d been no need. No benefit. Just a viciousness that deserved to be returned in kind.

And I will
, he vowed. But first he’d find Ford and Kimberly.
I’ll find them
.
I have to
.

He couldn’t allow himself to think about the alternative. He’d seen with his own eyes what their abductor was capable of doing. As hard as he tried, Clay couldn’t get the picture out of his mind for even a moment – Tuzak lying in the street, covered in garbage, his head barely . . . 
The monster who did that has those kids
.
I’ll get them back
.

And then?
He didn’t know. He only knew the man who did this had to pay.

Clay jerked when something landed in his lap. A box of tissues. He lifted his hand to his wet cheek. He’d been crying and hadn’t even realized it.

He put the tissue box on the console between them and scrubbed his palms over his face. Carter had finished his call with his CO. How long ago? They’d driven several blocks, headed away from downtown. To where Phyllis was waiting for word.

‘Oh God,’ Clay whispered. He’d have to tell her that her husband was never coming home. He’d have to tell Daphne her son was missing. He’d promised to keep Ford safe.
I failed
.

There was a long space of silence, then Carter sighed. ‘Be careful, Clay.’

Clay whipped around to stare at the Fed’s profile. ‘Be careful of what?’

Carter kept his eyes forward, tapping one finger on the wheel as he drove. He looked like he was choosing his words carefully. ‘Of revenge,’ he finally said. ‘If you find him before we do.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Clay lied.

‘Uh-huh. Right. I told my CO that I’d removed you from the scene so you didn’t slug Novak, which was true, but he knows cops. And ex-cops. Knows that seeing a partner brutalized like that will stir a man up. He told me to keep an eye on you. And that if he finds you going cowboy, he’ll slap cuffs on you faster than you can blink.’

He’d have to catch me first
.
‘
I understand.’

‘Good.’ They drove another few blocks before Carter spoke again. ‘Of course, should the suspect attack you first, you’re entitled to defend yourself.’ And then Carter turned and met his eyes for a brief moment. There was understanding there. And truth.

He realized what the Fed was telling him. Carter had killed before. To avenge. Not in cold blood, but his self-defense had been dual-edged. And he wasn’t the least bit sorry. The Fed rose dramatically in his estimation. Clay nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Carter reached into the console between them and pulled out a baggie filled with brownies. ‘My brother-in-law made them,’ he said, as if they hadn’t just discussed killing a man. He bit into one with gusto. ‘Help yourself. They’re damn good.’

Clay couldn’t eat. Still he appreciated the gesture. ‘This is the brother-in-law that owns the catering business? Brian?’

‘One and the same. You know him?’

‘Ate at his place once, when Paige and Grayson were involved in the Muñoz case. I’ve met him a few times since then. He caters all the charity functions Daphne’s been throwing for her women’s center. His food makes it almost worth wearing a tux.’

Carter’s jaw froze, mid-chew. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, then he resumed chewing although it now appeared to be a chore. ‘Brian’s good about that, donating food to good causes,’ he said.

Clay frowned. It didn’t take a PI to see he’d said something that annoyed the Fed. ‘You got a problem with charity functions, Carter?’

‘Nope. Get dragged to them from time to time. Miss Montgomery usually throws a good one.’ But Carter’s jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscle in his cheek bulged.

If Carter didn’t have a problem with charity functions, then he had a problem with Daphne. And nobody had a problem with Daphne. Except the low-lifes she sent to jail. And her ex-husband, the asshole. Everybody else loved . . .

Oh
. Comprehension dawned and Clay found the weight on his shoulders easing a fraction. At least something good might come of this day.

Carter had stopped at a traffic light and was dialing his cell, his expression intense in its attempt to be bland. ‘Grayson’s still not picking up.’ His tone changed when he left a message. ‘Gray, call me. It’s urgent.’ The light changed and he proceeded, outwardly calm except for the forefinger that tapped the wheel in a rapid staccato. ‘How long can it take for a jury to read a damn verdict?’

‘She’s not mine, Carter,’ Clay said quietly and watched the Fed’s finger abruptly still. ‘Not that you asked. Just thought you should know. We’re friends. That’s all.’

Carter drew a deep breath and held it for several seconds before slowly releasing it. ‘I see.’ He kept his eyes fixed forward. ‘Not that I asked.’

‘She’s got no one right now. Not that you asked that either.’

‘No. I didn’t.’

‘But I have to warn you . . .’ Clay waited for Carter to look at him. Finally the Fed did, just a glance, but long enough for Clay to know that he’d guessed right.

‘Warn me about what?’ Carter asked levelly.

‘She’s been hurt. Badly. But she has one of the kindest hearts I’ve ever known. If anyone were to hurt her again . . . I wouldn’t wait for him to attack me first.’

Carter nodded solemnly. ‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Good deed done for the day, Clay fixed his gaze on the passing houses. The weight that had momentarily lifted returned with a vengeance. Clay closed his eyes, pictured Phyllis’s face. Pictured himself sitting her down, the terror in her eyes, because she’d know. ‘They always know, cop’s wives.’

‘I know. I hate this part. People say “You’re just the messenger. You’re not the one ripping their lives apart.” But it sure feels that way.’

Clay looked over at him. ‘Then why are you here?’

Carter’s brows lifted. ‘Like I should send Novak to do the notification?’

‘Good point. The man’s an ass. No offense.’

‘None taken. But he’s got a sharp mind. And Brodie, the woman leading the CSU team? She’s simply the best. Been with the Bureau’s lab for years.’

‘Longevity doesn’t mean skill.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But I know of twenty murderers that we couldn’t have caught or convicted without her evidence, and that’s just my history with her. If the man who killed your friend left an eyelash in that alley, she’ll find it.’

It was the best thing the Fed could have said. ‘Thanks.’

‘Now I need to ask a few questions. I’m assuming that the Millhouses kidnapped Ford. My CO is working on the warrant to search their home and business to see if they’ve hidden him there. I’d have a better chance of getting a judge’s John Hancock if I had proof that Daphne and her assistant were being threatened by the Millhouses.’

‘The cops have all that. Daphne kept every note, every taped cell phone call.’

‘Daphne’s taping her cell phone calls?’

‘She got a judge to sign a wiretap order.’

‘Then getting the search warrant won’t be a problem.’

‘I wouldn’t think so. What other questions?’