The Perfect Couple (14 page)

The only fund-raiser he'd ever supported her in was a Walk for Diabetes. Not because he gave a damn about saving anyone. He didn't know many people in the world worth saving. He just thought it'd be funny to offer a large sum as incentive to make Misty finish the whole walk, then watch her have a heart attack.

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Unfortunately, she came through it unscathed. He'd thought he'd at least enjoy the fact that he'd made her go to such effort to collect a hundred dollars she wouldn't get to keep. But the organizers gave her a stupid "I'm making a difference" pin that brought her so much satisfaction he swore he'd never help her again.

If it were up to him, he'd fire her on the basis of being fat and annoying. But the other attorneys loved her and her "big heart," as they said.

If her heart was big, it was because she was big, but that didn't stop the rest of the lawyers from bringing her little treats and gifts for Administrative Professional Day or Christmas. She had a number of stuffed animals hiding in various cubbyholes around the office and constantly purchased plaques and statues with sickeningly sweet quotes. Her current favorite was, "Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are: something to do, something to love and something to hope for."

If she only knew what he was hoping for her...

"So...you're helping them?" she asked.

He smiled at the respect in her voice. That was new. He and Misty didn't get along well, but one act of perceived kindness had her second-guessing her assessment of him. God, she was a sap. "That's right."

"Oh." She fingered the corner of the stack. "Maybe you're not that bad..."

He cocked his head. "Don't tell me you've been judging me. You're a good Christian woman."

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. "But when I put up that notice in the break room about the homeless kitten, someone wrote, 'Die, kitty, die,'

and Marnie said she thought it was you."

Gasp--could he really be so terrible? He barely refrained from laughing in her face. "It was me. But I was joking, of course. Who could be so cruel about a cute 'puddy tat'?"

She seemed cheered by his childish response. She thought they'd established some common ground at last and felt relieved to see him acting in a manner she could relate to. She lived in such a small, protected world....

"That's what I figured."

Eager to get back to business now that he'd taken a moment to impress the firm's own Mother Teresa, Colin cleared his throat. "You found a good home for the kitty, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"There you go." He smiled blandly. "Was there...anything else?"

"I'm just worried about your neighbor's little girl. I'd be happy to help if you need it."

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Colin almost told her to get lost. He was enjoying his involvement, didn't want any competition for Zoe's attention. But after the way Misty had reversed her opinion of him, he saw this as an opportunity to improve his image with the whole firm. With the neighborhood. With the cops. No one would suspect a neighbor who was working so hard to bring little Sammie home.

"I'm putting together a search party for this weekend, if you have a few hours," he said, but he knew before he asked that she'd agree. People like her didn't have lives of their own. She had nothing to do but earn herself another meaningless "I'm making a difference" pin.

"Where will you search?"

"Around the neighborhood and in the raw land adjacent to our development." He'd be sure to send Misty right through the thorny blackberry bushes that clogged the creek.

"You think she might be dead?"

"I hope not." He lowered his voice. "This is...just in case."

"Of course I'll help you," she said.

Surprise, surprise. "Great."

"Maybe some of the other attorneys and secretaries will want to pitch in. Do you mind if I ask them?"

"Not at all. Tell them I'm planning to spend the whole day, if necessary, since I know the family and all. I don't expect that much from them, of course, but I'd be grateful for any time they could spare." Gee, he was sounding like a regular hero. Maybe the media would pick up on his efforts to pitch in.

He imagined himself tearing up on TV. He loved Tiffany all the more because she'd made it possible for him to enjoy this added dimension to an already exciting game.

"Do you want the people who are interested to call you?" she asked.

Why be bothered by twelve separate interruptions when he could make his grand impression all at once? "No, we'll meet in the parking lot at Sierra College, eight o'clock Saturday morning."

Her eyebrows knitted. "But that's two days away. What if she's found before then?"

Samantha would never be found. Not alive, anyway. But he'd tripped on his own confidence. He had to be more careful.

He pushed a notebook toward her. "Have everyone who's coming sign up with their name and phone number. I'll contact them in the event the search is called off."

"I hope she's returned to her family long before then."

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Knowing how much Zoe would love him for arriving with the calavry made him smile. She'd been so grateful last night. He'd never forget the charge that went through him when they made physical contact.

"Me, too," he said.

Overcome by sheer exhaustion, Zoe fell asleep almost before they could taxi down the runway, and she didn't move during the flight. But it was only an hour later that they landed in Los Angeles, and an hour wasn't nearly long enough to give her the rest she needed. Jonathan regretted having to wake her, but he couldn't very well carry her off the plane.

"Zoe?" He nudged her. "We're here."

Her eyes opened to reveal irises that were dark-brown in the center and light-brown at the edges with varying shades of amber in between. He'd halfway expected her to be confused after coming out of such a deep sleep, but she wasn't. She winced as if she didn't want to face the burden that awaited her. But once the aisle was free, she stood and marched off the plane.

They had their luggage, so Jonathan led her directly to a counter where he could rent a car.

"Why don't we take a cab?" she asked.

"It's not the best way to travel when you need to be mobile."

"Are we going somewhere besides the trailer park?"

"If we have to. We're down here to do whatever we can. I have no idea how hard or easy that'll be, but we need to plan for the worst."

He took out his Visa and rented a Prius, and soon they were heading for Mount Vernon Mobile Home Park. They had to fight through congested traffic, but the clear blue skies and sunny, eighty-degree weather made Jonathan wonder why he hadn't settled farther south.

According to the GPS he'd rented with the car, they'd have a thirty-minute drive, but Zoe was already digging at her cuticles as if dreading the moment they'd arrive.

"You okay?" he asked, drawing her attention from the window.

"As okay as I can be."

"What's wrong? Besides everything," he added.

She managed a chuckle. "It's been so long and yet--" she stared up at the palm trees that lined the road "--the memories are as vivid as though I never left."

Those memories were painful for her. She didn't want to come back.

She was only doing it for Sam. He regretted being the one to ask for yet another sacrifice, but he had to do his job or they might never recover her 93

daughter.

"Where's your mother from?" he asked, hoping to distract her from her nerves.

"Alabama."

He checked the GPS as they came to a large freeway interchange.

"Where'd your parents meet?"

"Here, at a club."

"How old was she?"

"Eighteen."

"What brought her all the way from Alabama? College?"

She laughed. "No. The same thing that brings a lot of young girls to L.A.--the dream of becoming a movie star."

He sensed a measure of disgust in her voice, but if her mother had Zoe's looks, Jonathan could understand why she'd believe she might have a shot.... "Did she get any parts?"

"She once had two lines in a Dukes of Hazard episode. And she was an extra in Little House on the Prairie."

Not an impressive resume. "I can't imagine that paid very much."

"No."

Half wishing he'd rented a convertible, he adjusted the air-conditioning vents. It was that kind of day. "How'd she get by?"

"From what my father told me, she worked at various low-paying jobs and lived with whatever man would take her in."

What a history. Jonathan was almost sorry he'd asked. "Is that how she came to know your father?"

"He was making good money back then."

A definite attraction for a struggling actress. "What was he doing?"

She arched an eyebrow. "He says he was operating a perfectly legal transmission-repair business."

"But..."

"I'm pretty sure it was a chop shop. In any case, he served two years for grand larceny, my entire fifth- and sixth-grade years, so...draw your own conclusions."

"Nice," Jonathan said with a whistle. "Who'd you stay with while he was incarcerated? Your mother?" She'd already told him her mother had never been part of her life, but maybe that wasn't as unconditional as it sounded.

Shifting in the seat, she pulled her seat belt away from her body as if it was too constricting. "No, she was long gone by then. I stayed with his girlfriend."

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The GPS said they had ten minutes before they reached their destination. "Was she nice to you?"

"Nice enough. But she was the one who got my father into drugs, so I don't feel too friendly toward her."

"She was an addict?"

"One of the worst. I'd be surprised if she hasn't overdosed by now."

"The relationship didn't last, I take it."

"No. They broke up shortly after my father got out of prison."

Jonathan drove in silence. After several minutes, he asked, "How long were your parents together?"

"I doubt they were ever officially a couple. He provided a place for her to sleep and she provided..." Her voice dropped. "Well, I'm sure you can guess what she provided. That's how he ended up stuck with me."

Stuck with her? "When did she leave?"

"Before I was born. But she came back, long enough to dump me on his doorstep with a note saying she wasn't about to let an unexpected pregnancy ruin her career."

Apparently, Zoe's mother was even more irresponsible than her father.

"What happened to her from there?"

"I have no idea. We never heard from her again."

"Are you ever tempted to track her down? See what's become of her?"

That was the type of thing he did for people all the time. He could help her, if she wanted, but she didn't hesitate before responding.

"No."

Her life had been the exact opposite of his, he realized. He had supportive parents and the best big sister a guy could ask for. "What about extended family?"

Propping her elbow on the window ledge, she anchored her fingers in her hair to keep it from blowing into her face. "My father has a couple of brothers with kids, but we didn't socialize with them. I don't think they wanted to feel any responsibility for me. They were tired of cleaning up his messes well before I came along."

"You don't know them?"

She squinted into the distance. "I met them once or twice, but they both left California not long after Grandma died. One settled in Idaho and the other in Kentucky."

"Your dad's from L.A., then?"

"Bakersfield, which isn't too far away."

"Do these uncles and cousins know Sam?"

"No. I mean, they might know she exists. But they don't know her."

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"What happened to your father's parents?"

She reached for her purse, found a pair of sunglasses and slid them on.

He got the impression she felt better after that, as if they gave her a shield of some sort, a way to hide the emotions coursing through her. "His dad died in a hunting accident when he was small. His mother worked at the library and did her best to raise him and his brothers alone. She died fairly young, too, from a blood clot after gallbladder surgery. I was eight."

"Were you close to her?"

The tenseness around Zoe's mouth softened. "Very. She didn't have a lot to offer us financially. But she loved me, and took me in whenever my dad got in trouble. It broke her heart to see what had become of her oldest son."

They were less than a mile from the mobile home park. Zoe clasped her hands over her purse and Jonathan stopped questioning her about her background.

"It hasn't changed much," she said as they spotted the Mount Vernon sign, which was broken on one side and had fallen against the pole.

He pulled off the busy road, onto the rutted driveway. "How long's the sign been like that?"

"Since I was here last."

He eyed the dilapidated, rust-stained metal-sided homes and shook his head.

"What?" she prompted.

"I can't imagine any child being raised here."

"I wasn't a child for long," she murmured.

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"He obviously hasn't been around for quite a while." Zoe stood on the rickety landing of the mobile home where she'd grown up and gazed out at the untended land between the trailers--ground no one really claimed but folks in other places might call a yard. She'd already knocked but there'd been no answer, and the door was locked.

Jonathan had also donned a pair of sunglasses, which he'd retrieved from his luggage when they'd stepped into the bright sunshine. He looked exceptionally good in those glasses; his face, so lean and rugged, would've been right at home on a recruitment poster for the marines. How old was he, anyway? Her age? Younger?

Probably younger. She felt ancient.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"The weeds." She waved at the spot where her father always parked his truck. "If my father had been here recently, they would've been smashed by his tires."

"That's one way to deal with weeding." Jonathan removed his glasses and lifted a hand to block the glare as he peered through a window.

"Around here, it's the only way."