Don't Cry (17 page)

“Oh, I know about sex and how J.D. got my mom pregnant.” Zoe laughed, the sound hollow and sad. “That's not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. And I'm not sure I have an answer for you. Luck of the draw. Fate. Meant to be. Take your pick, but none of them seem a satisfactory reason.” Audrey lifted her feet off the floor and folded her legs sideways as she relaxed her back on the sofa arm behind her. “My parents got a divorce when I was five and even now, sometimes, I wonder why they couldn't have stayed together, why I couldn't have been one of those kids whose parents spend their whole lives together.”

“Yeah, fairy-tale stuff.” Zoe sighed heavily, a faraway look in her eyes.

“My friend Tamara's parents are still married, still love each other and are very happy, so a few people do get that happily ever after.”

“It must be nice. She's lucky, huh?”

“You know, Zoe, your dad might not win any father-of-the-year awards, but don't you think he's doing his best?”

Zoe looked right at Audrey. “I thought you didn't like him, and here you are defending him.”

“I'm not defending him. And whether I like him or dislike him has nothing to do with—”

“Yeah, I guess he's doing the best he can. For a guy who got stuck with a kid he didn't want and didn't even know he had, he's done okay. I mean, he's providing room and board and he makes noises like a father even if he doesn't have any idea how to go about being a real dad.”

“And what's a real dad like?”

“Humph. How should I know? You tell me.”

“Oh, I'm not an expert on fathers, believe me.”

“What's your dad like?”

“Oddly enough, Zoe, he's a lot like your dad.”
Strong and brave and totally male. Dedicated to his job. Emotionally aloof. And he's never had any idea how to be a loving father to a daughter.

“A real pain in the butt, huh?”

Zoe and Audrey laughed and kept on laughing until their sides hurt. And when the laughter subsided, they exchanged knowing smiles, each understanding the feelings of rejection and neglect the other had experienced.

 

While her father, in his role as chief of police, had made a statement to the media, Tam had stood beside Garth and J.D. and Hugh Nicholson, head of the CPD Major Crimes Division, and shared the frustration the others felt. In the span of less than a month, three young women had been abducted and two were now dead. With the resources of the entire police department, as well as the TBI, and with federal assistance, they were no closer to discovering the identity of the Rocking Chair Killer than they had been weeks ago. Her dad had fended off media questions with the skill of the politician he was destined to become, perhaps even a U.S. Congressman. Being his daughter, she could read even the subtle variances in his facial expressions, and where no one other than her mother might suspect, she knew that the burden of his office under such trying circumstances was taking a toll on him. Willie Mullins cared. He cared about what had happened to the two murdered women and he cared about the hell their families were experiencing. And he cared about Whitney Poole.

Once back at headquarters, J.D. placed his hand on the small of Tam's back as they entered the building. “You're worried about your father, aren't you?”

Apparently she wasn't as adept at hiding her feelings as her father was. “He's taking all the hits from the press, when we're the ones who aren't accomplishing anything. We've got zip. Nada. We have no idea who this guy is or why he's targeting young brunettes.”

“Unless it turns out that he's somehow connected to the old Baby Blue cases,” J.D. reminded her.

“And if he is, if the DNA tests confirm that the skeletons belong to a couple of Baby Blue toddlers, what does that give us? How does that help us find this guy?”

J.D. followed Tam into the office she shared with Sergeant Hudson, who had entered the PSC before they had and had gone straight to the bathroom.

“If the DNA test results confirm what we suspect, then that's another piece of a very intricate puzzle. We start putting those pieces together, one at a time, and you never know what even a partial picture might reveal.”

Tam flopped down in the swivel chair behind her desk, leaned back, and cushioned the crown of her head with her cupped hands. “I didn't peg you for an optimist, Special Agent Cass.”

J.D. grinned. “And I didn't peg you for a pessimist, Officer Lovelady.”

“I'm not. Not usually. But seeing the way these cases are affecting my father, not to mention what it'll do to Audrey and her family if one of those skeletons turns out to be Blake, has put me in a negative frame of mind.”

“All we need is one lucky break,” J.D. reminded her. “Someone who saw something.”

“Someone other than a seventy-year-old, nearsighted woman.” Tam groaned as she sat up straight.

“This guy is human. He's made mistakes. We just have to find out what they are. Once we figure out how he's slipped up, then it's only a matter of time until we nab him.”

“Well, I'd like to figure out what, if any, mistakes he's made before he kills Whitney Poole.” Tam looked J.D. square in the eye. “If he stays true to form, then we have less than two weeks to connect the dots before he props her dead body up in a rocking chair and sticks a toddler's skeleton in her arms.”

The phone on Garth's desk rang just as he entered the office. Without even glancing at Tam or J.D., he walked over and picked up the receiver.

Garth's face paled. “Why the hell didn't they notify us yesterday? Yeah, sure. But God damn it, Willie, this isn't just some case, is it?”

Garth was talking to her father? She and J.D. exchanged puzzled expressions.

“Yeah, I'll tell them.” Garth gripped the phone with white-knuckled tension. “I agree. We don't want word of this leaking out until the families have been notified.”

Tam rose to her feet. She and J.D. were so focused on Garth that when he hung up the phone, he couldn't help but feel them staring at him. He glanced from J.D. to Tam.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

Garth swallowed. “That was your dad. He just got a call from Dr. Reynolds. It seems the DNA test results came back yesterday afternoon, but there was a mix-up about who was supposed to notify the chief.”

Tam's heart beat so hard and fast that she thought it was going to jump out of her chest. “Tell us. What were the results?”

“The toddler skeletons' DNA matched the DNA for Keith Lawson and Chase Wilcox,” Garth said.

“Oh, God!” Tam reached out and gripped Garth's tense shoulder.

“Keith and Chase were the first two, weren't they?” J.D. said. “The first two toddlers who came up missing. Possibly the first two of Regina Bennett's victims.”

Garth dropped down into his chair, stared at the floor, and cursed a blue streak.

All J.D. wanted to do was pick up his daughter and take her home. He'd considered calling and telling her he was sending a taxi to pick her up, but if he had, she would have asked him half a dozen questions. Questions he couldn't have answered over the phone. Once the initial shock had worn off, Garth Hudson had recovered quickly and explained that until Keith Lawson's and Chase Wilcox's families had been notified, the information was to be kept under wraps.

“Willie…the chief has given me”—he had looked at Tam—“us permission to tell Hart and Audrey. He'll speak to Wayne himself.”

“I'll tell Audrey,” Tam had volunteered.

Garth had nodded agreement. “First, we need to track down the Lawson and Wilcox families. If any of them still live in the area, we'll go see them personally. If not, well…” Garth had huffed. “It's not the kind of news you want to deliver over the phone.”'

J.D. had stayed at police headquarters long enough that his departure didn't look like a hasty getaway. But the sooner he picked up Zoe, the better. It was only a matter of time before Tam showed up to tell Audrey that the toddler skeletons had been positively identified.

Wanting to get in and out quickly and be gone before Tam arrived, J.D. tapped his foot nervously after he rang the doorbell. He hadn't expected Zoe to open the door.

“Hi.” She smiled at him, something she seldom did. “Come on in.”

“Where's Dr. Sherrod?” he asked as he stepped over the threshold.

“In the kitchen. The peach cobbler we made is ready to come out of the oven, so she asked me to see who was at the door.”

“Peach cobbler? I thought you were making cookies.”

“We made sugar cookies,” Zoe said. “And some of your favorite, too—chocolate chip. But Audrey said I can take those home with me.”

“That's nice. And speaking of going home, are you about ready? We don't want you overstaying your welcome, do we?”

Zoe stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language that she didn't understand. But before Zoe could respond, Audrey came out of the kitchen—a floral apron tied around her waist—and had apparently heard what he'd just said.

“Zoe certainly hasn't overstayed her welcome.” There was a hard glint in Audrey's eyes, telling him plainly that she didn't approve of his comment. “We've had fun today. I enjoyed her company a great deal.”

The expression on Zoe's face when she looked at Audrey Sherrod bordered on hero worship.

When Zoe turned to him, she smiled tentatively. “See, you were wrong. We don't have to rush off. Come on in, J.D. We—Audrey and I—cooked supper and everything's ready. We were just waiting for you.”

J.D. forced a smile, not wanting Zoe to realize how badly he wanted them to leave. “You cooked, huh?”

Audrey walked over and draped her arm around Zoe's shoulders. “Your daughter seems to have a natural talent for it. She made the peach cobbler all by herself.”

Zoe beamed with pride. “I did, but Audrey talked me through the whole process. And it was pretty easy.”

“That's great. I'm glad you've had such a good time with Dr. Sherrod, and I appreciate—”

“Zoe, why don't you check on the potatoes,” Audrey said. “They should be just about ready.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Zoe whirled around and headed into the kitchen. The minute she was out of earshot, Audrey attacked.

“So help me, if you hurt that child's feelings by refusing to stay and eat dinner—the dinner she worked so hard this afternoon to prepare for you—I won't be held responsible for what I'll do to you.”

J.D. didn't know whether to laugh or feel insulted. He tried not to grin. Audrey Sherrod had retaliated like a mama bear defending her cub.

“I'm sorry.” J.D. huffed in frustration. “I don't want to hurt Zoe's feelings, and unfortunately, I seem to do just that quite often. I had no idea you two prepared a meal together and—”

“A meal your daughter prepared for you.” Audrey glared at him. “Are you such an insensitive moron that you don't understand the significance?”

Had she just called him an insensitive moron? The cool, dignified Dr. Sherrod? He chuckled. She didn't. When their gazes met and locked, he realized that she was furious. Furious with him.

“You're right,” J.D. admitted. “I can be an insensitive moron and I have been with Zoe on numerous occasions, but in my defense, I had a good reason this evening for wanting to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

When he noted the puzzled look on Audrey's face, he groaned. Now, she'd want him to explain.

“The potatoes are ready…I think,” Zoe called out from the kitchen doorway. “What do I do next? I've never creamed potatoes before.”

J.D. inclined his head toward the kitchen. “You'd better go show her how.”

“Be right there,” Audrey told Zoe before she said to J.D., “After dinner, you and I are going to talk. Alone.”

Lucky for J.D., Tam showed up just as they were finishing dinner. He was complimenting the chefs on the delicious meal when the doorbell rang. Audrey lifted her napkin from her lap, folded it, and placed it on the table; then she got up and went to the door.

J.D. downed the last bite of scrumptious cobbler before saying to Zoe, “Why don't you and I clear the table and then clean up in the kitchen?”

“Absolutely.” Zoe stood and began stacking the dirty dishes.

As soon as Tam walked into Audrey's home, she saw that she had company. If she was surprised by seeing J.D. and Zoe clearing away the dining table, she hid it well.

“I didn't know you'd have dinner guests,” Tam said.

“It's all right. We're finished,” Audrey told her. “Zoe wanted to surprise her father, so I helped her prepare dinner for him.”

Tam's brows rose as she widened her eyes in a just-what's-really-going-on-here appraisal of the situation. “Oh, I see.” But it was obvious that she didn't.

“Where's Marcus?” Audrey asked.

“This isn't exactly a social call.” Tam grasped Audrey's hands.

Audrey's face paled.

“Come on, Zoe, let's go in the kitchen and get started on cleanup,” J.D. said.

Zoe did as he requested and carried a handful of dirty dishes into the kitchen. Once J.D. closed the door, she turned and faced him.

“Want to tell me what's going on?”

“Officer Lovelady needed to talk to Dr. Sherrod privately. They're close friends and—”

“I heard her say that this wasn't a social call,” Zoe told him.

Damn!
“Look, honey, this is none of your business.”

When Zoe stared at him, her eyes filled with hurt, he cursed himself for not being more tactful. “Zoe…”

She spun around, carried the dishes across the room, and lowered them into the sink. He followed her, and when he placed his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged his hand off and refused to look at him.

“I should have put that more diplomatically,” he said. “It's not any of your business because it's a police matter, and the only reason I know what Officer Lovelady is telling Audrey—Dr. Sherrod—is because it concerns me as a TBI agent. Do you understand?”

She lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder, a fine mist of tears in her eyes. She nodded.

J.D. wanted to grab his little girl, wrap her in his arms, and banish the hurt he had inflicted. Audrey had been right. He was an insensitive moron.

“Dinner was delicious,” he said. “I enjoyed every bite, especially the peach cobbler. I appreciate all the hard work you did preparing the meal.”

“I had fun and so did Audrey. She's great, J.D. And you know what? She likes me. She really likes me.”

“And you like her, too, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot.” She searched his face as she asked, “Is what Officer Lovelady has to tell Audrey bad news?”

“Sort of.”

“Then she'll be sad.”

“Probably.”

“I wish I could help her,” Zoe said. “Maybe I could stay over again tonight and be here for her.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why? Because you think I'm not grown-up enough to understand what it's like to be unhappy and need a friend who cares about me?”

“Tamara—Officer Lovelady—is Audrey's friend,” J.D. tried to explain. “And Audrey also has a father and an uncle and a brother. If she needs somebody, she's got family.”

Zoe snorted. “So she has family. Big whoop-de-do. Why aren't any of them here? Where's her father? Where are her brother and her uncle? I didn't see anybody out there with her except her friend. And I'm her friend, too. She said so.”

“Zoe, honey, you don't understand.”

She glared at him, anger turning her brown eyes black. “Don't tell me that I don't understand. The guy I thought was my father was never around. He left and never looked back. And my mother was too busy having a good time to be bothered with a little kid. Do you know how many different people she left me with while she went out and partied? I slept on sofas and pallets in washrooms and even in a cardboard box behind some friend of hers's trailer.” She took a deep breath, got a second wind, and lit into him with a vengeance. “And then there's you, J.D. My father. My real father, one of the many, many guys who screwed Carrie Davidson, and the poor sucker whose condom must have had a hole in it. God, I'll bet you prayed real hard when we were waiting for those DNA results that I wasn't your kid.”

J.D. wished he could deny her accusation, but he couldn't, not without lying to her. “Zoe, I—I…I'm trying, you know.”

When he couldn't bring himself to lie to Zoe, she knew she'd been right. “Yeah, sure. You're trying to be a dad, trying to take care of me, trying to love me. But you don't love me. You hate me. And I don't blame you. Who could love a messed-up, unlovable girl like me?”

“Oh, God, Zoe.” When he reached out for her, she screamed at him.

“Don't touch me! And don't you dare feel sorry for me.”

The kitchen door swung open and Audrey rushed into the room, swept past J.D. without even a sideways glance, and went straight to Zoe.

“We could hear y'all arguing.” Standing in the doorway, Tamara Lovelady scowled at J.D.

Audrey put her arm around Zoe and walked her past J.D. and Tam, who closed the kitchen door and continued glaring at J.D.

“What the hell's going on?” Tam asked.

“My daughter and I had an argument.”

“That's not what I meant.” She marched over to J.D., got right up in his face, and asked, “What are you doing here? What's your daughter doing here?”

“It's a long story.”

“I've got plenty of time.”

J.D. gave her the condensed version, and when he finished explaining, he added, “I need to apologize to Aud—Dr. Sherrod—and take Zoe home.”

“You didn't ask how Audrey took the news about the DNA results on the skeletons.”

“With her usual dignified composure, I'm sure.”

Tam's mouth gaped. “You son of a bitch. You have no idea. You don't know the first thing about Audrey, and yet you assume because she doesn't go off the deep end, she's unemotional. Nothing could be further from the truth. That woman in there”—she flung out her arm to indicate the other room—“is the most loving, caring, tenderhearted person I know. I would have thought you would realize that by the way she's treated your daughter.”

Okay, he gave up. Every time he opened his mouth, he said the wrong thing. Tam Lovelady was the third female who had chewed his ass out this evening.

What does that tell you, buddy boy?

“It's already been pointed out to me that I'm an insensitive moron.”

“Who am I to disagree,” Tam said. “Look, I'm heading out. Audrey insisted. Just as I was about to leave, we heard the explosion in here.”

“I am sorry about that.”

“Apologize to Audrey. Better yet, apologize to your daughter.”

“You accused me of judging Audrey when I really don't know her, but aren't you doing the same thing now, judging me without really knowing me or the situation with my daughter?”

Tam shrugged. “Why don't you give them a few minutes so that Audrey can talk to her?” She glanced at the stack of dirty dishes and cooking utensils. “Looks like you've got plenty to do in here until they're ready to talk to you.”

J.D. groaned. “Yeah, looks like I do.”

 

Wayne left Willie and Geraldine's home and drove straight to the neat brick house on Meadowhill Lane. Grace stood in the doorway, love and concern etched on her pretty features. He got out of the Silverado and walked into the arms of the woman waiting for him.

She kissed his cheek and asked softly, “How bad is it?”

He hugged her close and then pulled back and took her hand in his. “The DNA results came in.” There was no easy way to say this, no way to cushion the blow. “The bodies belong to Keith Lawson and Chase Wilcox.”

Grace gasped inaudibly, an involuntary indrawn breath, as she squeezed Wayne's hand. They both knew those names as well as they knew their own. The names of all the missing toddlers were forever branded on their hearts and minds.

“Then—then she did kill them, didn't she? Regina Bennett murdered…” Grace swallowed the tears caught in her throat. “All these years…hoping, praying, trying to hold on to the possibility, no matter how faint, that Shane…” She reached up and cradled Wayne's face with her open palms. “And Blake. They're dead, too, aren't they? That's what this means, that your son and my son are both dead.”

Wayne pulled Grace back into his arms and held her as she cried.

Cry for me, honey. Cry until there are no tears left.

 

Garth sat alone in his office, the lights out, the only illumination coming from the one-bulb lamp on his desk. Saturday night used to be his night to howl and occasionally still was, despite him being past fifty now. He'd never been handsome, never had the kind of looks that drew women to him like moths to a flame. But he'd done all right with the fair sex. Hell, he'd been married four times, hadn't he? And he'd gotten his fair share of pussy. He sure as hell had never had to pay for it, although there had been a few times when he'd been in the mood for something special that he'd handed over some cold hard cash.