When Wishes Collide (4 page)

"You do?" she asked in surprise. "What is it?"

"A little girl was caught on tape by a security camera in the North Beach area. I'm checking it out right now."

"In North Beach? So close to where you work? That would be amazing."

The disbelief in his mother's tone echoed the cynical voice inside his head, but he couldn't let doubt stop him from following any possible clue. "It's a neighborhood Jennifer knows well," he said. "She could have come back. She might still have a friend in the city willing to help her out. There's no way she could have stayed gone for this long without help."

"That's true. I was actually thinking about that the other day when I got the RVSP's for the engagement party. Mandy Meyers is coming to the party," his mother added, referring to one of Jennifer's high school friends. "She's dating Ron's best man, and we can't hold her responsible for what Jennifer did. Just because they went to school together doesn't mean that Mandy had anything to do with Jennifer's disappearance."

"She was quick to take Jennifer's side," he reminded his mother.

"Well, she didn't have all the facts at the time. She's apologized since then. But you do have the perfect opportunity to talk to her again if you come tomorrow night."

"You're very shrewd and persuasive," he said.

His mother laughed. "Well, I really want you to come. We love you, Wyatt. And we may not always say the right thing or know what to do, but we're always here for you."

"I know that, and I appreciate your support. I have to go now, but I'll try to come by the party."

"Do better than try."

"Good-bye, Mom."

He slipped his phone back in his pocket. As he did so, his fingers slid over the smooth surface of a coin, reminding him that he hadn't yet made a wish. He pulled out a dime, not much of an offering. He dug around for a quarter but he had nothing else. Well, a dime would have to work.

He noticed that the woman on the other side of the fountain was still rolling a coin between two fingers as she stared into the spray. Maybe she was also debating the value of throwing money into a pool of water and hoping that a wish would come true. Not that there weren't plenty of suckers in town, judging by the number of coins covering the floor of the pool.

And he was joining those suckers today, because he was desperate and running out of options. "
Help me find my child
," he muttered.

Then he tossed the coin toward the wild spray of water coming out of the fountain, shocked when it clinked in mid air with another coin. One of the coins fell into the pool, the other flipped out toward the pavement.

What were the odds of that happening?

His gaze clashed with the woman on the other side of the fountain. She looked shocked.

Had his wish gone astray?

Or had hers?

* * *

Adrianna couldn't believe her coin had been knocked out of the fountain. She needed her wish to get her past her fear. Without it, she might never be able to get herself through the door of Vincenzo's. She moved quickly around the fountain, as did the man whose coin had collided with hers.

"Did you see where it went?" she asked. Her gaze swept the pavement, but there was no sign of her quarter.

"I thought it landed around here," he replied, looking down at the ground.

"I can't believe that happened," she said. "I didn't even see you throw your coin. I really need to find it."

"How do you know it was your coin that didn't make it into the water? It could have been mine. In fact, it probably was mine. Because I have just that kind of luck," he said cynically.

His frustration resonated with her. She had just that kind of luck, too.

As he searched for the errant coin, she took a closer look at him. His appearance suggested someone who had had a very long day. His dark tie hung loosely around the neck of his white-collared shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. His dark brown hair was wavy and windblown, and his blue eyes were weary and a little angry. The faded scar by his left eyebrow matched his rugged look. Not a man to mess with, she thought. But judging by his demeanor, someone had done just that.

As she stared at him, she realized there was something familiar about his gaze. She also realized he was staring back at her.

She had to fight the impulse to draw her sweater across her breasts or tuck her hair behind her ear. She hadn't put on make-up in seven weeks. In fact, most days she didn't make it out of her yoga pants, even though she hadn't gone to a yoga class in months. Fortunately, today she'd garnished enough energy to pull on some decent clothes.

Not that it mattered what this guy thought about her. He was nobody. Still, his steady gaze unnerved her. It had been a long time since she'd really looked at someone or had someone look at her. She'd been living in a gray, foggy world of bewilderment and confusion. Somehow this man's steel gaze cut right through the curtain that had dropped down the night Will was killed. She wasn't sure she liked that.
 
She didn't want anyone to really see her. Then she might have to answer questions that she didn't want to answer.

Rattled, she cleared her throat and returned her attention to the ground. "I don't know for sure that it was my coin, but I figure it's a fifty-fifty chance," she said. "I threw a quarter. What about you?" she asked, kicking some leaves around in the hopes of seeing something shiny on the ground.

"A dime."

"That's it?" She gave him a quick look. "Big spender, huh?"

"It was all I had," he said a little tersely. "And not representative of the importance of my wish."

"I wasn't judging."

"Weren't you?"

"Okay, maybe I was. Sorry. I'm not having a great day. In fact, I'm not having a great month. I was hoping my wish might change that. Not that I really believe in wishes, but I was feeling a little desperate." And now she was rambling.

"I know the feeling," he said.

Again, she felt an intangible connection, as if something inside her recognized something in him. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so."

"It's weird. I feel like I know you from somewhere." A piece of shiny metal a few feet away made her pause, and with relief she retrieved her coin. "Here it is, and it's a quarter," she said with resignation. "Mine. Probably a sign I shouldn't be relying on a wish."

"You can wish again. You have a second chance."

"I doubt it works that way."

"It probably doesn't work at all – if that makes you feel better," he said dryly.

"If you don't believe, why did you throw the coin?"

"I was feeling a little desperate, too," he said, repeating her words.

Their gazes locked once again. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and this time she did pull her sweater more closely about her. She was suddenly aware of the lengthening shadows, the fog sweeping in from the ocean, the aroma of garlic coming from Vincenzo's where they were no doubt prepping for dinner service.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He checked his watch. "Four-forty-five."

She was forty-five minutes late. "Well, I've been stalling a long time."

"Stalling? Is that why you were staring at your coin for so long?"

"I have something I don't want to do. I need to do it, but I don't want to. And I don't know why I just told you that. Except that perhaps our conversation is becoming part of my stall." She gave him an embarrassed smile. "I'm really good at procrastination."

"But apparently very self aware."

"I suppose."

"What do you have to do?"

"Face my fear," she said, surprising herself with the answer. She didn't know why she was telling him something so personal, so embarrassing. They'd only just met, but for some reason when his blue eyes focused on hers, she felt like talking.

"Which is what?" he asked.

She hesitated. "You're going to think I'm nuts."

"Try me."

"I need to walk through that door over there," she said, tipping her head in the direction of the restaurant.

"Vincenzo's?" he echoed, following her gaze. "Oh, I get it. Your fear has to do with the recent robbery, right?"

She wasn't surprised he'd heard about it. The robbery and Will's death had been all over the news. The violence of the crime had shocked the neighborhood. "Yes, I was there that night. I worked in the kitchen."

Recognition flashed in his eyes. "You're the chef, Adrianna …" He snapped his fingers as if he was trying to remember her name.

"Cavello," she finished, surprised he knew her name and also a little concerned. The shooters had never been caught, and while she hadn't seen anything, she didn't want to be tied to the crime in any sort of public way. "How did you know my name?"

He pulled out a badge. "I'm an inspector with the SFPD."

Of course he was. She was really off her game not to have pegged him for a cop. There had been a time in her life when she could have spotted a police officer from a mile away.

"Were you there that night?" she asked. "Maybe that's why you look familiar to me."

"No, I was out of town when it happened. One of the other inspectors, Josh Burton, is working the case."

She nodded. "I spoke to him, but I haven't heard anything in weeks. Has there been any progress on the case?"

He shook his head. "Not yet, unfortunately. So you knew the man who was killed?"

"Yes, he was a very good friend," she said shortly, feeling a little guilty for labeling Will as a friend and not a boyfriend. But what did it matter to anyone else? "What is your name?" she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from Will.

"Wyatt Randall."

"What did you wish for?"

"Help in finding my daughter."

His answer surprised her. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it hadn't been something so intense, so dark. "How long has she been missing?"

"Two years this month."

She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. And I'm really glad your coin made it into the fountain. Your wish was far more important than mine. How old is she?"

"She's eight now. Her name is Stephanie." He pulled out his wallet and handed her a photograph of a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. The edges of the picture were well worn, as if he'd shown this photo a million times.

A knot formed in her throat as she stared at the little girl. She looked familiar, too.

"What?" he asked abruptly. "Have you seen her?"

"I – I don't know," she said slowly.
 
The little girl resembled one of the kids she'd met behind Vincenzo's, one of the girls she'd seen a short while ago, but she was younger, and her hair was blonde. The girl she'd seen had brown hair.

"She's older now," he added. "Two years older."

"I've seen a couple of kids running around this area, and the youngest one sort of resembles your daughter in the eyes, but nothing else is the same. Her hair is much darker."

He straightened and pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket. "Are these the kids?"

She stared at a blurry print of three kids outside a liquor store. "Yes," she said, uneasiness rolling through her stomach. "That's them. Why do you have that picture?"

"Where did you see them?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"I first saw them a few months ago in the alley behind Vincenzo's. They asked me for some leftovers, and I gave them pizza. They looked hungry."

"And you didn't think to call the police?"

"They weren't causing trouble, just asking for food. I did try to question them, but the boy said they were fine. He referred to the girls as his sisters."

Wyatt's mouth drew into a tight line. "Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"They looked like they could be siblings."

"What else can you tell me about them? Did this girl say anything?" he asked, pointing to the youngest child.

She shook her head. "No, only the boy spoke. He said his name was Ben. I didn't get a last name." She paused. "I saw the two girls a little while ago right around here. I called out to them, but they ran down that street when they saw me." She pointed across the square. "They went that way."

His gaze moved across the square. "How long ago was that?"

"Probably almost an hour ago."

He shifted his feet, as if he were about to take off.

"I tried to follow them, but they disappeared," she added.

"Why do you think they ran away from you?"

"I don't know. I was a little surprised. But then again maybe it's understandable. The last time I saw them was the night of the robbery."

His face paled. "They were there?"

She nodded. "Yes, in the alley. I was talking to them when I heard the gunshots."

"I don't recall reading anything in the report about children being in the alley."

She flinched at his sharp tone. "I thought I mentioned it," she said, not really sure what she'd said. Everything about that night was a blur.