Don't Cry (15 page)

He stood in the center of what had once been the nursery and recalled the description of the room from George Bonner's report. In his mind's eye, J.D. pictured the baby bed, the Mother Goose rug, the Humpty-Dumpty night-light, the big Raggedy Andy doll on top of the small toy box.

Had it been that same toy box that Corey Bennett had taken to the Chattanooga Funeral Home?

His mind whirled with thoughts, with possibilities, with outlandish ideas, and even with a few solid theories. If Corey Bennett was not Regina's nephew, and all evidence pointed to that fact, then who was he? Why had he visited her at Moccasin Bend in the months before she died? Why had he paid for her funeral? And why had he asked the funeral home to place her ashes in a toy box, possibly the same toy box that had been in Cody Bennett's nursery?

Two possibilities came to mind, neither exactly logical. Either he was one of the toddlers she had abducted, whom for whatever reason she had not killed, or he was actually Cody Bennett.

But Cody Bennett was dead, wasn't he? Regina had admitted that she'd smothered him to put him out of his misery. However, the little boy's body had never been found.

And only one of the six missing toddlers had been rescued; only one was alive. Jeremy Arden. Could Corey Bennett and Jeremy Arden be the same person? Had Arden disguised himself and visited Regina under an assumed name? If he had, then why?

 

Audrey checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror as she applied a fresh coat of pink lipstick. Carnation Pink, her favorite shade, one she wore almost every day. She looked quite presentable in her navy blue linen jacket, pale beige tailored slacks, and light pink silk blouse. She didn't usually wear her mother's pearls except on special occasions, but for some reason, she had taken them from the wall safe that morning and put them on without asking herself why. Now she asked herself, and she didn't especially care for the honest truth.

J.D. Cass undermined her self-confidence. Wearing her mother's pearls reminded her that she was Norma Colton Sherrod's daughter, that she came from a long line of intelligent, well-bred steel magnolias. If she had any hope of actually doing her job and helping J.D. and Zoe, then she couldn't allow J.D.'s attitude toward her to affect her professionalism.

When Audrey returned to her office, she laid out a pad and pen, took a deep breath, and sat down to wait for her four-thirty appointment. She had told Donna that she could leave early as soon as she showed J.D. and his daughter into her office. Once the session ended, she would have to rush home and change clothes before Porter picked her up for their date. A date, she reminded herself, that really wasn't a date. Just two friends going to the symphony together. Had she made a mistake by agreeing to see Porter tonight? She had hoped to make a clean break, but instead she had given in to her empathetic feelings and decided it best to cushion her rejection by seeing him this one last time.

A soft knock on the closed door brought Audrey out of her thoughts. Donna opened the door and stuck her head in.

“Mr. Cass and his daughter are here,” Donna said.

“Ask Mr. Cass to come in first. Tell Zoe that I'll talk to her privately in a few minutes.”

When J.D. entered her office, he ran his gaze over her quickly, and as if he found nothing of any interest, he inquired, “Do I sit down or spread out on the couch?” The corners of his lips lifted in a devilish smile.

She suspected that most women found his smile irresistible and that he knew it. Well, she wasn't one of those women.

“Sit down, please.” She indicated the two chairs facing each other on the opposite side of the room.

He waited until she sat before he did, then he looked right at her. “I thought this was going to be family counseling, that Zoe and I would do this together.”

“It is family counseling and I will be talking to the two of you together,” Audrey said. “But first, I want to speak to each of you privately.”

He nodded.

“You and Zoe need to know that both of you will be required to attend every session together. It's going to take your working together to resolve your problems.”

J.D. was no longer smiling. “Okay.”

“Tell me why you think you need counseling and what you hope these sessions will achieve.”

He huffed, glanced up at the ceiling, and gritted his teeth. “I think the why is obvious. I have a teenage daughter who, apparently, I can't control. She was used to doing whatever the hell she wanted to do when she lived with her mother, and she resents having to follow rules and regulations.” J.D. paused for a minute, apparently waiting for Audrey to say something, and when she didn't, he continued. “What do I hope these sessions will achieve? I hope you can make Zoe understand that I'm her father, that I'm the adult, that I'm the one who makes the decisions. I want her to stop fighting me tooth and nail over every damn little thing.”

Audrey wrote hurriedly, making notes as he talked. When he stopped talking, she glanced up from her notepad. After asking him half a dozen more questions, she showed him to the door and invited Zoe into her office.

“I'm so nervous,” Zoe admitted. “I barely made it through the day at school. I kept thinking about this session and wondering if J.D. would find some excuse not to show up.”

“There's no reason to be nervous.” Audrey reached out and patted Zoe's arm. “And as you can see, your father didn't find an excuse to back out of coming here.”

“Yeah, he's here, but he sure isn't happy about it and he looked downright pissed when he left your office a minute ago.”

“Come over and sit down and we'll talk.” Audrey led Zoe to the same two chairs that she and J.D. had occupied.

“Why don't you tell me why you think you and your father need therapy?”

Zoe's eyes rounded wide and she laughed. “You're kidding, right?”

“I think you need to tell me.”

“Okay. I'll tell you, and it's not a pretty story. Before my mother died, she told me that the man I'd thought was my father, lousy bastard that he was, wasn't my father. Then she called J.D. and sprang the news on him that he had a kid he didn't know existed. She died and J.D. got stuck with me because nobody else wanted me. He's miserable and I'm miserable. He doesn't want a daughter and I don't want him for a father.” Tears glistened in Zoe's beautiful dark eyes, eyes so much like her father's.

Audrey pulled tissues from the decorative box on the table between the two interview chairs and handed a tissue to Zoe. The young girl glared at Audrey's offering.

“I don't need it. Thanks, anyway,” Zoe said.

Audrey stuffed the tissues into her jacket pocket. “What do you hope these counseling sessions with your father will accomplish?”

Zoe snorted. “I don't know. Maybe he'll lighten up a little. I'm sick and tired of him bossing me around and telling me how to run my life. I did just fine before he came along and tried to play Big Daddy. My mom didn't smother me the way he does. Sometimes I think he's mean to me because he hates having me around.” Zoe cleared her throat. “He's a lousy father.”

After a few more questions for Zoe, Audrey asked J.D. to join them, and as he entered the office, she pulled up a third chair and created a seating triangle. Once father and daughter were seated facing each other, Audrey took the chair at the peak of the triangle, placing herself in front of and between them.

Less than fifteen minutes into the session, J.D.'s phone rang. Mouthing a hurried apology, he rose from his chair, walked toward the windows, and took the call. Zoe glared at her father's back. Audrey felt the girl's anger and didn't blame her for being upset. She wasn't exactly pleased with J.D. herself. She had told him and Zoe to either turn off their cell phones or silence them during the session. J.D. had done neither.

From his end of the brief conversation, Audrey couldn't make out much, but enough to realize it was a business call.

“I have to go,” J.D. said. “Sorry about this, but—”

“But something more important came up,” Zoe said.

“We can reschedule,” Audrey told them.

“Why bother? J.D. will just find another way to get out of it.” Zoe glared at her father.

“Look, that was Sergeant Hudson,” J.D. said. “Another young, dark-haired woman disappeared last night and all the evidence points to the Rocking Chair Killer being her abductor. We've got an eyewitness who may be able to give us a description of a man she saw outside the woman's apartment last night, a man who doesn't live there and wasn't visiting anyone who does live there.”

“Go on, then,” Zoe told him. “I'll call Reesa and see if her mom can come pick me up and let me spend the night.”

“I can drop you by Reesa's on my way.”

“Don't bother.”

Father and daughter glared at each other.

“Zoe, why don't I drive you to Reesa's house?” Audrey suggested. “That will save your father some time, and I don't mind in the least.”

“Is that okay with you?” Zoe dared J.D. to argue.

“That's fine, if Dr. Sherrod really doesn't mind.” He glanced at Audrey. “Thanks.”

As soon as J.D. left, Zoe looked at Audrey. “Yeah, I know. It's not his fault that he had to leave. I know he's a state cop, and when duty calls, he has to go.”

Audrey draped her arm around Zoe's slender shoulders. “You know what? I have an idea. Why don't you come home with me instead of going to Reesa's? I'll fix dinner for us and then we'll watch a movie.”

Her impromptu invitation to Zoe was totally unprofessional, but it wasn't the first time Audrey had allowed her emotions to overrule logic. If she had ever seen a girl in need of someone's undivided attention, it was Zoe Davidson. And yes, truth be told, Zoe's hunger to be loved and wanted reminded her far too much of how she had felt as a young girl, with a policeman father who readily used his job as an excuse to maintain an emotional barrier between them.

“You mean it?” Zoe's face brightened instantly. “You want me to come home with you?”

“I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more than the two of us getting better acquainted. As friends,” Audrey hastily added. “Not as client and counselor. So, why don't you wait for me in the outer office while I finish up in here and we'll head out in about five minutes.”

Audrey had two phone calls to make, one to Porter to break their date, and the other to J.D. to tell him he could pick up his daughter at her house later tonight. And in all honesty, she didn't know which call she dreaded more.

Audrey had waited until she and Zoe had arrived at her home before she excused herself and went into the bedroom to phone Porter. When she had explained the situation, she had expected him to be disappointed, but had not been prepared for his anger or the accusation he had hurled at her.

“I don't appreciate your canceling at the last minute,” he had told her. “And for no better reason than to baby-sit Special Agent Cass's teenage daughter. Why you would volunteer to—?”

“I thought I explained what happened.”

“So you did, but it doesn't ring true. My God, you aren't interested in the man, are you? I wouldn't have thought a Neanderthal like Cass was your type, but then I suppose most women prefer the blatantly male, chest-beating Me-Tarzan-You-Jane type.”

“Porter, you're being ridiculous.” She had seen a side to Porter Bryant that she'd never seen before, not in the six months they had dated.

“For your sake, I hope I'm wrong. You have to know that up against Holly Johnston, you don't stand a chance.” He had slammed down the receiver.

Doing her best to put the unpleasant conversation with Porter out of her mind, Audrey had returned to the living room and suggested that Zoe might want to join her in the kitchen. They had prepared sandwiches and soup for their supper, and afterward, they had taken their bowls of chocolate ice cream and a plate of sugar cookies into the living room. Zoe had chosen
Overboard
from Audrey's DVD movie collection, a romantic comedy starring Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn. And although Audrey tried to concentrate on the movie, she kept thinking about where J.D. was and what he was doing. Another young woman had disappeared, someone who fit the same profile as Jill Scott and Debra Gregory, a possible third victim of the Rocking Chair Killer.

We've got an eyewitness who may be able to give us a description of a man she saw outside the woman's apartment last night.

J.D.'s comment replayed over and over inside her head. If the eyewitness could identify the man who might have kidnapped this young woman, wouldn't that mean there was a good chance they could find him and rescue the woman before he killed her?

“I love this movie,” Zoe said. “It's so funny.”

Coming out of her thoughts, Audrey replied, “You've never seen
Overboard
before?”

“No, never.” Zoe picked up another cookie from the plate on the coffee table and took a bite. “These are good. They're kind of cake and cookie. Where'd you get them? At the grocery store or one of the bakeries?”

“Actually, I made them,” Audrey said. “Baking is sort of a hobby of mine, especially desserts.”

“Dang, how about that? I never thought that somebody like you…you know, an elegant, sophisticated career woman, would waste her time cooking.”

Audrey laughed, her response a combination of amusement and appreciation for Zoe's flattering description of her. She had never actually thought of herself as either elegant or sophisticated.

“A good friend's mother taught me how to cook,” Audrey explained. “I used to spend a lot of time at their house, and Geraldine is the best cook in the world. She let us make the desserts every weekend. And in the past few years, I've taken two gourmet cooking classes.”

“Could you teach me to make cookies like these?” Zoe stuffed the remainder of the cookie into her mouth and smiled at Audrey.

“I could. They're not difficult to make.”

“That would be great,” Zoe mumbled as she chewed and then swallowed. “When? I know you're probably busy tomorrow, but if you're not, maybe…” Zoe frowned. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't assume that because you've been so nice to me it means you'd want us to spend more time together.”

Audrey understood only too well Zoe's desperate need to be loved and accepted, to be wanted. But it would be unprofessional for her to allow herself to become a mother substitute for Zoe. And it would be so easy for that to happen because of the rapport they shared.

You could always refer Zoe and J.D. to one of your colleagues for their family-counseling sessions.

“Actually, I have an appointment for a manicure and pedicure in the morning,” Audrey said. “If your father thinks it's okay, then why don't I pick you up around nine-thirty and you can go with me. I think Jessica might fit you in for a manicure and pedicure. And then we can come back here and I'll give you your first cooking lesson. Sugar cookies à la Audrey.”

They both laughed.

“After you make your first batch, we can call them sugar cookies à la Zoe.”

Giggling, Zoe beamed with delight. “I've never had a manicure and pedicure or made cookies.”

“Then, my dear Ms. Davidson, you're in for a real treat.”

They watched the rest of the movie as they talked and giggled and finished off the plate of cookies. Zoe lay sideways on the sofa, her head resting on a decorative pillow she'd placed on the armrest. After she yawned, she said, “Excuse me.”

Audrey checked her watch. Ten forty-eight.

Why hadn't J.D. called?

“Looks like your father has been delayed.”

“Yeah, he's probably forgotten all about letting me come home with you. He gets pretty involved with his job, and nothing else seems to matter.”

“My father was like that.” The moment she spoke, Audrey realized she shouldn't have voiced her thoughts.

“Really?”

“He was a policeman, very dedicated to his job. Some men are like that.” Audrey reached out, grasped Zoe's hand, and tugged her up into a sitting position. “Come on. I'll get you a pair of my pajamas. You can take a shower and sleep in my guest room tonight.”

Zoe's mouth dropped wide open as she stared at Audrey. “But if J.D. comes by to pick me up—”

“I'm sure he will. Eventually. But we have no idea when that will be. There is no point in your staying up when it's obvious you're tired. You go take a shower and I'll see if I can get in touch with your father and tell him you're staying here tonight. Give me his cell number again.”

Zoe recited the phone number and Audrey memorized it. Then she shooed Zoe off toward the guest room while she headed for her bedroom. Audrey went through her lingerie drawer and chose a pair of lavender and white striped cotton pajamas to loan Zoe.

“Thanks so much,” Zoe said. “It's so nice of you to…well, thanks.”

Audrey thought the fourteen-year-old looked like a small child on the verge of tears. She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around Zoe and comfort her, but she didn't think it the wisest thing to do. Zoe needed to be the one who reached out first before she would be willing to accept comfort from anyone.

Audrey retreated to the living room, and as soon as she heard the shower running, she picked up the phone and dialed J.D.'s number.

“Yeah, what's wrong?” his deep, aggravated voice demanded.

“Bad night?” Audrey asked, ignoring his rudeness.

“Sorry, but yeah, it's not such a good night.”

“The eyewitness didn't pan out as you had hoped?”

“Something like that.”

“I wouldn't have bothered you, but I wanted to catch you before you—”

“God damn it!” She heard his voice as if he was holding the phone away from him, but she couldn't make out anything else. Then suddenly, he said to her, “Look, Dr. Sherrod, tell Zoe I'll pick her up in about an hour. I've got to go.”

“But—but—”

J.D. had hung up on her.

She huffed loudly. Dear God, how that man infuriated her. She had half a mind to call him back and tell him exactly what she thought of him.

Within minutes, her temper had cooled enough for her to admit that calling him back was a bad idea. Instead, she went through her bedroom and into the adjoining bath and drew a tub of warm water to which she added some scented bath salts. A few minutes later as she lay there, her body immersed in the soothing heat, she tried to erase J.D. Cass from her mind, not an easy task when his daughter was asleep in her guest bedroom. The man was, if not an uncaring father, at the very least an insensitive one.

So much like her own father.

Don't assume that the two men are identical.

Judging J.D. on such a short acquaintance wasn't fair to him. And if she intended to work with him and Zoe as their therapist, she had to find a way to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You can't continue to counsel them.

No, she couldn't. Not if she formed a personal friendship with Zoe, which she wanted to do. She wanted to help Zoe, and oddly enough she believed that being her friend was more important than being her therapist.

She remained in the tub—a place where she often did her best thinking—until the water turned tepid. After drying off and putting on her turquoise pajamas and matching robe, she removed the towel from her head, shook loose her shoulder-length hair, and used her fingers as a makeshift comb. As she entered the hall, she paused outside the guest room and peeked inside, where Zoe lay sprawled across the bed, the covers at her feet. Audrey tiptoed into the room and pulled the top sheet and blanket over the sleeping child.

Zoe was such a pretty girl. Actually, she was beautiful. She had J.D.'s dark eyes and hair and—

Audrey shook off the thought of how attractive J.D. Cass was and closed the guest room door behind her as she returned to the hallway.

After checking the time, she noted that J.D. should be arriving within the next twenty minutes. She turned on the TV, kept the sound low, and curled up on the sofa. The next thing she knew, the insistent doorbell chimes woke her. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the front door, peered through the viewfinder, and then quickly unlocked and opened the door. J.D. stood there, a five o'clock shadow darkening his face and a world-weary look in his black eyes.

“Sorry I'm so late,” he told her. “It's been a hell of a night.”

She stepped aside to allow him entrance. “Come on in. Zoe's asleep, so try to be quiet.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“It's nearly midnight,” Audrey reminded him. “When I called you earlier, I tried to tell you that Zoe was staying the night and you didn't need to bother with picking her up.”

“I apologize about earlier. But we were dealing with a situation….” He glanced into the living room. “Would you mind if I sit down for a few minutes?”

She floated her arm through the air, indicating an invitation.

He slumped down on the sofa, reared back, and closed his eyes. Audrey sensed how tired he was and pure feminine instinct took over.

“Have you had anything to eat?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and stared at her. “What I could use right now is a good stiff drink.”

“I don't think that's a good idea. You'll be driving home soon and—”

His rather sarcastic chuckle shut her up instantly.

“I don't think one beer would impair my ability to drive home safely,” he told her.

“I'm afraid I don't have any beer.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I have milk and cola and juice, or I could fix you hot tea or decaf coffee.”

He scanned her from head to toe as he sat up straight on the sofa. “You're being awfully nice to me. Why? It's obvious that you personally dislike me and disapprove of me as a father.”

“I don't know you well enough to like or dislike you,” she told him, assuring herself that in this instance, a little white lie was acceptable. “As for my opinion of you as a father…I'll reserve judgment until after you and Zoe complete your family-counseling sessions.”

“Very well said, Dr. Sherrod. I almost believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” She kept her head high and her gaze locked with his. He wasn't going to intimidate her with his swaggering masculinity.

“I wouldn't mind some coffee…if your offer is still good.”

She nodded. “It is.” When she turned to go into the kitchen, she paused, glanced over her shoulder, and asked, “Would you like a sandwich? Roast beef? Ham and cheese?”

He got up off the sofa and came toward her. “You have no idea how much I'd like a sandwich. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Ham and cheese sounds great.”

When he suggested that he could make his own sandwich while she prepared the coffeemaker, she told him where to locate all the ingredients and supplies in the refrigerator and the pantry. They worked together seamlessly, avoiding conversation and direct eye contact. He took his sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table, and by the time he'd gobbled down the first bite, Audrey poured him a mug of steaming black decaf coffee.

He glanced up at her, smiled, and said, “Thank you.”

After placing the coffeepot back on the warmer, she pulled out a chair and sat across from him. He ate heartily and quickly. When he washed down the last bite with coffee, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Audrey, catching her staring at him.

“Would you like another sandwich?” she asked.

“I could probably eat another one or even two more.” He chuckled. “But no thanks. I need to be heading out and let you get to bed.” He scooted back his chair and stood. “If you'll give me a call in the morning after Zoe gets up, I'll come by and pick her up.”

“That won't be necessary. Zoe and I sort of made plans for tomorrow.” Audrey stood and faced him. “I hope you don't mind, but I invited her to go with me and have her first manicure and pedicure, then lunch, and afterward I'm going to teach her how to make sugar cookies like the ones we had for dessert tonight.”

J.D. narrowed his gaze and studied her closely as if he couldn't quite figure out what her ulterior motive was for befriending his daughter. After a long, tense pause, he grinned. “Wouldn't happen to have any of those sugar cookies left, would you?”