Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (7 page)

“Grilled ham and cheese okay for you?” I ask Neil when he walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter.

“Sounds good. You want a drink?” He pulls open the fridge and comes out waving a beer.

“I’ll just have some juice, thanks.”

I’m surprised how easily we move around each other in the kitchen. It’s a rarity. I usually get irritated when people get in my way while I’m cooking, but Neil seems to be able to anticipate my moves before I make them. And vice versa. Therefore, it doesn’t take long before we’re sitting at the dining room table, with croque-monsieurs on plates in front of us. The smell of melted cheese makes my stomach rumble and I don’t hesitate taking a huge bite from my sandwich.

“This is good,” Neil mumbles around a mouthful of grilled cheese. “Better than a regular grilled cheese.”

“That because I put three different cheeses and shoulder ham in there. It’s called a croque-monsieur. My mom used to make these all the time. It’s
the
best comfort food.” I watch as he easily devours the first one and I’m glad I had the foresight to make him two. Aside from his looks, smarts and his technical savvy, Neil is known for his bottomless appetite.

This feels nice—too nice—sharing a meal. Not that we’ve never shared a meal before, but that was usually in a group or at a gathering. It’s never been just the two of us. It feels...intimate, and oddly comfortable, which in itself is a little bit disconcerting.

“As if there weren’t quite a few things to discuss already, I would love to know what thoughts were going through your mind just now.” Neil’s voice cuts into my drifting thoughts. “They were visible on your face,” he says as he pushes back his chair, collects our dishes and sets them on the kitchen counter. Turning back to me, he pulls me up from my chair and leads me to the couch, where he sits and tugs me down beside him. “Tell me what had you so jumpy.”

I shift to create some space between us, but with his hand still clasping mine, he doesn’t let me go far. “Just a guy who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,” I finally concede.

I feel the slight jerk of his hand around mine and his body seems to go on alert beside me. “Go on,” he says in a deceptively calm tone, but when I chance a glance at his face, I can see the dark intensity in his eyes.

With a sigh, I continue, “He left flowers at the apartment. They were there when I went back for the boxes, sitting in the hallway propped up against my door.” Pulling my hand free, I reach for my purse on the coffee table and pull out the card and hand it over. “It was just a coffee date. We talked about hiking. I’d brought some maps for him to look at. He didn’t seem happy when I told him I wasn’t up for going hiking with him. I went home thinking that was the end of that until I found the flowers.”

“This guy, how did he know where you lived? Lars...” He studies the card intently, before dropping it back to the table and twisting sideways to face me. “That his name? How did you meet him?”

“Seriously, I think you’re overreacting,” I tell him, afraid to admit I ignored his caution last night at dinner. “Look, even if the guy was a bit...
off
, and he managed to get his hands on my address, it won’t do him any good now, will it? I officially don’t live there anymore.” Perhaps I’m trying to convince myself of this as much as I’m trying to convince Neil. I don’t want to admit to the hint of uncertainty lingering. I’ve lived forty years, and aside from my mother’s penchant for young boys and my sister’s borderline nymphomaniac behavior, I’ve never had reason to feel unsafe. So it’s not a surprise this has me unsettled.

Neil is not easily convinced, however. 

“Kendra,” he growls impatiently. “Talk.”

I shoot an irritated look his way, which leaves him annoyingly unmoved.

“Fine.” I lift my hands in surrender. “I met him on MatureDatingOnly at the beginning of the year. I’d put a profile up before Christmas and never looked at it until the day after New Year’s. There were a bunch of messages from total sleezeballs, which I immediately deleted, but there was one that stood out from the rest. It was a very polite note from a guy who had similar interests to mine and I ended up responding to it. He seemed nice, but the other, less savory messages kept on coming and I’d already had enough of the whole scene. When I told him I was going to shut down my profile, he sent me his regular e-mail and left it up to me to contact him.” I lower my eyes and look at my hands, a tad embarrassed. “I kept his e-mail, and ended up sending him a message. Like I told you earlier, we were just talking this whole time. Mostly about the outdoors: good hiking trails, beautiful spots to see, that kind of stuff. Although, he also told me stories about his students. He’s a teacher in Gallup, and I shared a little about my work. Never was there anything more to it, I swear.” I don’t know why it’s so important for me to impress that on Neil, it just is. He simply nods encouragingly. I continue telling him about how we ended up meeting for coffee, a bit ashamed I had so easily given out my telephone number. 

I’m wringing my hands in my lap during the prolonged silence that follows, until one of Neil’s large ones covers both of mine, stilling them. “Could your address have been on the maps?” he asks calmly.

I think back. Like I’d told the guy, most of those maps date back decades, but I had picked up some newer ones not that long ago. A thought occurs to me. “I actually think I may have had one sent to me a few years back. I’d bought an annual pass, and I think they sent me a map as a thank you. Maybe that had my address on it?”

“That’s probably it. But if he contacts you again in any way, I need you to tell me,” he gently insists, and I lift my eyes. His face is close enough so that even the slightest movement from either of us will likely result in a touch. Or another kiss. His crystal clear blue eyes are mesmerizing and I respond with a breathy “Okay,” instantly regretting my easy compliance.

What is wrong with me?

N
eil

“What’s up?” Mal answers his phone immediately.

“Have you heard anything from Damian on those telephone records? He was going to check if Cora Jennings had actually called this Alan Cymars guy the day she disappeared.”

“Yes. A few calls actually. Damian’s pretty convinced he’s the guy she was planning to meet for dinner. Unfortunately they’re coming up empty. No one by that name at any bank in Farmington, and there was only the phone number which was likely a burner. No longer active. They’re working on tracking his e-mails, but each one was sent from a different IP address, most of which from unsecured wireless routers in residential areas all over the Four Corners region.”

I swear under my breath. “He fucking just drove down neighborhoods trolling for signals. It means he’s got a tablet or laptop in his car, and he’s at the very least computer savvy if he knows how to avoid IP tracking.”

“What’s got you wired?” Mal, perceptive as always, inquires.

“It’s Kendra.”

After a rocky start, Mal and I have forged a pretty solid friendship since his marriage to Kim. During the months prior to that we’d spent some intense times together, which is why I don’t have to think twice talking about Kendra with him.

“What’s going on?” he prompts me.

I tell him about this Lars guy Kendra met online, and about the weird vibe she was getting off him. I tell him about the flowers and the card. By the time I’m done, the silence on the other side is deafening.

“Look,” Mal finally says. “I get that you’re protective of her. Hell, you know I am too. But from where I’m sitting, it could just be what it looks like: the guy’s more interested in Kendra than she is in him, and he’s giving it one last go with the flowers. Can you blame him? Not sure you need to make more out of it.”

“I don’t know. I mean, Kendra says she checked out his profile up on the high school website where he works. The guy spent four months e-mailing back and forth with her. You’re right, he could just be an asshole who doesn’t know when to give up.”

Mal’s point of view helps put things in perspective. My reaction is likely more out of jealousy than common sense. It doesn’t completely settle my gut—I’m just not a believer in coincidence.

“It always pays to be cautious, though. Keep an eye on Kendra, not that you need any encouragement.” Mal chuckles. “You can always look into the guy for yourself. I just wouldn’t advertise that to her. She may not thank you for butting in.”

“I should just lock Kendra up until this fucker is caught,” I say, thinking out loud.

Malachi bursts out laughing. “I hear you, and good luck with that. You’re gonna have to catch her first. Maybe consider letting her in on why you are up in her business.”

“I’ll think about it.” I can’t help consider that telling her might scare the shit out of her unnecessarily. “Hey Mal, you think we should put a bug in Damian’s ear about this guy? Even just make a footnote on the files? Couldn’t hurt. I’m going to have a quiet look into a high school teacher from Gallup with the name Lars. Can’t be many of those around.”

“Sounds good,” Mal says. “I’m gonna have a chat with Damian, if you’ll make sure Gus is up to date. And keep an eye on our girl.”

“I’ll stick as close as she’ll let me.”

I can still hear Mal’s laughter as I hang up the phone.

With my feet up on the railing of the porch, I lean back and fold my hands behind my neck, enjoying the afternoon sun.

“Everything all right?” Kendra walks around the corner of the house and sits beside me on the swing.

“Did you get your stuff squared away?” I reply.

“Are you answering my question with a question of your own?” She comes right back, apparently onto my sad attempt at evasion. She squeals in protest when I hook my arm around her neck and pull her to my side.

“Talked to Mal. That case we’ve been working on—the one I wasn’t able to talk about? I’m still technically not able to talk about it but I’m gonna.” Just like that, I’ve made up my mind to tell her enough to take this seriously.

She pushes back from my side and turns to look at me. “Am I going to freak out?”

“Possibly.” I chuckle at her attempt to look threatening before I turn serious again. “Remember I told you it might not be a good idea to go on dates with guys you meet on the Internet?” At her affirming nod, I continue, making sure I have her settled back under my arm. “I had good reason. Remember Damian Gomez? He’s the FBI agent who’s been involved in some of our cases in the past. He asked GFI for help on a case. A number of women have been reported missing from La Plata County over the past few months. There may be even more disappearances that are connected across state borders. Last week three of the women were found near Durango, deceased.” I feel Kendra stiffen under my touch, but she doesn’t say anything. “From information we got on the latest victim, there might be a link to dating sites. It’s possible the singles scene is what’s being used to connect with these women.” Before I have a chance to hold her back, Kendra is off the swing and pacing up and down the porch, pulling the elastic from her hair and running her hands through the loose strands. Seeing her this flustered, I decide I’ve told her enough. No need to get into details that might keep her awake at night.

“No way. No fucking way.
Son of a fucknugget
.” She is mumbling under her breath, obviously agitated. On her next pass, I manage to snag her wrist and pull her back down beside me.

“Relax,” I try, but her head snaps around and her eyes shoot sparks.

“Relax? Don’t tell me to relax—I have to call my sister. She’s got profiles up on more than one site.” Her gaze meets mine and something in my eyes must alarm her. “That’s why you warned me yesterday. You think...is he...?”

“He’s likely just a legitimate asshole.” I tell her the same thing I told Mal. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but let’s not take any chances. I’ll make sure a note is added to our file, and in the meantime, we’re going to have to let Gomez know about the website. We’ll leave it to the FBI to decide what to do with the information. And like I said earlier, you need to let me know should the guy try to contact you again.”

“Ahhhh, I can’t believe this is happening,” she moans with her face in her hands. “It’s embarrassing enough, you finding out I’d resorted to dating sites, but now everyone’s gonna know.”

I grab her by the shoulders and lightly shake her. “Knock it off. No one’s gonna care. Everyone’s much more concerned about stopping whoever is taking these women.” That quiets her down.

“You’re right,” she whispers, her fingers pressed against her lips. “I wasn’t thinking.”

The moment I see tears forming in her eyes, I stand up, taking her with me, and walk us inside. In the kitchen, I reach for a towel and wet it under the tap. Tears are now rolling freely down her face, and I quietly wipe them away, waiting for her to compose herself. I think things may have just gotten a bit too real.

“Better?” I ask as the flow of tears seems to slow down. She’s not looking at me but gives me a sharp nod in response.

“I’m an idiot,” she mumbles against my chest when I pull her in my arms. For once, she doesn’t resist me.

“You’re not an idiot. This is not a
normal
situation.” I notice with great satisfaction when she slips her arms around my waist, fisting the shirt on my back. “We may well be over vigilant, but better safe than sorry. And even contemplating the possibility of something like this touching your life is a shock to the system. Most of us don’t ever have to deal with ugly realities like this in our lives.”

“How did you get so wise?” she asks, leaning back to look at me in surprise. It almost makes me laugh.

“You forget this is my work. Spending years overseas in the military helped. I have seen and still see enough human aberration and cruelty to last me a few lifetimes.” I know I’ve let too much of myself show when she looks at me strangely. Her hand comes up to rest in the middle of my chest.

“What happened to you?” she asks softly.

I can’t answer that. I wish I could. “Life, Pup. Life happened.” It’s the best I can do.