Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1) (22 page)

“You mean, this isn’t your way of saying, ‘Hey, thanks for everything, but you’ve served your purpose, so I’m on my way’?” Seth asked with deliberate cruelty.

She bristled. “That’s hateful.”

“Or maybe honest.”

“No!”

He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “Then what’s this about, Bailey? The Lawsons are giving you enough money you don’t have to work this year if you don’t want.”

“I can’t just call my boss and say sorry, I’m not coming back. I have to work out some notice, give him time to replace me.”

“He’s apparently replaced you these couple weeks.”

“He juggles staff. Some of the people are working way more hours than usual to make up for my absence.”

Seth shook his head, as much at himself as her. “Why are we talking about your job? It’s not really the issue here, is it? And, just for a minute, do you think you could be straight with me?”

Bailey stared at him unblinkingly. Then she crossed her arms, too, except the way her shoulders rounded, it looked as if she was trying to hug herself, or maybe make herself smaller.

“I told Eve today, I hate goodbyes. Dragging this one out won’t make either of us feel any better.”

Seth tensed, and pain crawled up his neck. “Why am I arguing? You’ve made up your mind. Go pack, Bailey. You won’t have time in the morning.” Deliberately, he turned his back, then stared at the refrigerator, wondering what he was supposed to do next.

“You don’t understand,” a small, broken voice said behind him.

He let his head drop forward and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, feeling the cartilage creak. It took him a minute to get his facial muscles under control so that he could turn to look at her again.

“What don’t I understand?” he asked, his tone almost neutral.

“I’m not used to living with anyone. I’m not used to having anyone look at me the way Karen does, with this desperate, all-consuming hunger for something I don’t know how to give. I’m not used to anyone treating me... I don’t know, tenderly. Giving me vast amounts of money. I’m really not used to wanting a man, or trusting him, or—” She finally had to suck in air. The look in her eyes was as desperate as the one he, too, had seen in Karen’s. “I need to get away. I have to evaluate. Figure out what’s real. What I... I miss.” She bit her lip. “And what I don’t.”

The last, soft words fell like a hammer blow. Her meaning was unmistakable. She might miss him—and she might not.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it either way. He’d thought he hurt before, but it was nothing compared to this crushing pain. A part of him knew she was right to make no commitments until she’d gained some distance and perspective. She was emotionally damaged. The two of them hadn’t known each other very long. What he felt was too much, too fast. And just because he thought it was real and lasting didn’t mean she shared his certainty. But she wasn’t even leaving a door open. Giving him any hope.

He huffed out a breath at the irony of his thought. Nope, she wasn’t leaving him any hope at all.

“Then get on with it,” he said brusquely. “You can let me know once you’ve made up your mind which category I fall into.”

She looked stricken, but after a minute she turned and left the room. He didn’t move a muscle until he heard a bedroom door close. Then he braced both hands on the countertop, bent his head and felt his face contort.

* * *

H
ER
HEAD
HEAVY
from lack of sleep, Bailey tentatively opened the guest room door. She’d heard Seth moving around earlier. If she was lucky, he’d have left for work. It would be so much easier if he was gone, if there were no more goodbyes to be said. Leaving on harsh words was hugely preferable to wrenching herself from his arms, seeing emotions in his eyes she didn’t know whether to trust. But a painful constriction in her chest made that a lie. God help her, she wanted to see him one more time. Feel his arms tight around her.

And such a stupid craving made her a glutton for punishment.

Only quiet greeted her, but she smelled coffee. Bailey used the bathroom quickly, thought about showering, but couldn’t stand the suspense. Her hair was doing weird things and one cheek had a crease, but did it matter what she looked like?

She had the absurd memory of a magazine article asking when you should let a guy see you without makeup for the first time. Who cared, when this guy had already seen her terrified, stunned and sobbing?

Moving on silent feet, she followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen, then came to a sudden stop when she saw the man sitting at the breakfast bar. Waiting.

“I thought you’d be gone,” she whispered.

A flash of pain came and went, after which he raised his eyebrows. “Hid in your room until you thought I left?”

“No. I just woke up. I didn’t sleep very well.”

It was obvious he hadn’t, either. Exhaustion carved deep lines in his face, aging him. His gaze met hers, expression bleak. “I couldn’t take off without saying goodbye, Bailey. And apologizing for last night. I was a jackass. You need to do what feels right to you.”

Oh, crap. She was going to cry again. All those years with
him
she didn’t cry, and now she was a watering pot. “I’m scared. I’m running away. Okay? You were wrong about me. I am a coward.”

“No.” Despite his tiredness, he rose fluidly from the stool and came to her, his hands closing gently on her upper arms. “No, Bailey. You’re not. Don’t ever say that, or even think it. You survived hell and walked out on the other side with your head high.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” Very carefully, he pulled her close.

With something like a lunge, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. The feeling of his arms enclosing her filled her with a painful tumult because it was so good, and this was the last time he would hold her unless— She blanked her mind to the “unless.”

“Another thing you need to know,” he murmured, nuzzling her temple and ear. “Finding Hope, that was really something. But for me, finding Bailey was a life changer.”

Oh, God. She bobbed her head to say,
I understand
. Her sinuses burned.

“And, Bailey? I’ll miss you. And I’ll be waiting. You got that?”

Another nod.

His “Good” was rough, hardly articulated. With one finger, he tilted her chin up, and then he kissed her. Hard, hungry and brief.

Next thing she knew, the front door was closing and she was alone in the kitchen. An animal cry of pain burst from her.

* * *

S
HE
MADE
IT
through that day, feeling robotic. Two-hour drive south to SeaTac, mostly on I-5. She focused on what she had to do
now
, on the next minute. Flow with the traffic, change lanes when she absolutely had to. Watch tensely for road signs, then signs leading her to the airport, and finally for rental car return. Check her bag, hoist the giant tote that held her laptop and some of the purchases she’d made here in Washington, clutch her quilt in the other arm. Security. Plod to a far gate, sit on an uncomfortable chair pretending to read until her row number was called. And then grip the seat arms, knuckles white, because she couldn’t hold Seth’s hand.

The flight passed in a blur. In a window seat, she didn’t so much as glance out. Sleep beckoned, but she couldn’t catch it. Instead she read the same few pages over and over, and endured.

There wasn’t much of a wait for the airport shuttle, thank heavens. She blinked when she stepped outside into a dry, hot day, the sky a smog-tinted blue. Southern California. Instead of a sense of homecoming, the scene felt alien.

She was dropped outside her small apartment building. Inside the shabby lobby, she gazed at the mailboxes and thought about checking for mail but didn’t care. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.

Expecting some comfort when she stepped into her apartment, Bailey instead had the strange feeling she’d walked into someone else’s. It was her pink bedroom all over again. Another life, barely remembered.

Tomorrow
, she told herself again. By tomorrow, this would feel like home again. It had to, because it was.

The apartment was also stiflingly hot. To hell with her utility bill—now a woman of independent means, she could afford air-conditioning. She adjusted the thermostat to a shockingly low level before scrounging in her cupboards for something edible, settling on a can of soup. Groceries could wait until tomorrow, too.

At last she stripped and fell into bed, pulling only the sheet over herself. Mercifully, oblivion came fast.

* * *

S
ETH
REMAINED
AS
close to numb as he could make himself until late afternoon, when Ben walked back from the coffeemaker, cup in hand, and paused by Seth’s desk.

“When’s Bailey heading back to start school?” he asked casually.

Pain stabbed, so intense Seth lifted a hand to rub his breastbone in an attempt to ease it. “She’s gone.”

“Gone? Already?”

“What’s that mean?” Seth asked tightly. “She has a job, too. It was time.”

Ben regarded him in silence for a minute, then nodded and continued past to his own desk.

Seth went back to staring at his computer monitor without seeing it. He’d accomplished jack shit today. Should have just stayed home, except... He couldn’t.

God, he was dreading the unavoidable moment when he had to walk in his front door to the absence of Bailey. He knew already that he’d be getting something to eat on the way, if he could work up any appetite. If he were a drinking man, he’d have gone to a bar, but waking up tomorrow feeling like crap because he’d gotten plastered tonight wouldn’t bring her back, or make the house any less empty tomorrow night, or the next night. It wouldn’t make her miss him.

He couldn’t say his depression eased in the week that followed. He checked his phone incessantly, hoping he’d missed a call from her, but there wasn’t one. The way they’d left things, Seth didn’t feel as if he could call her. She’d openly expressed her need to give herself distance and space. She might feel as if his calling was meant to put pressure on her.

She might even be right.

He encountered Eve after a twelve-year-old boy collapsed during PE at the middle school, and upon examination at the hospital was found to have hideous bruises and broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lung. Even after regaining consciousness, he refused to name his assailant. X-rays indicated a long pattern of abuse, though, and Seth did some serious leaning on the mother and stepfather as well as the father, who had the boy two weekends a month.

“James asks me almost every time I see him if he can’t live with me,” the father said, his voice heavy with guilt. “I keep saying no because I travel so much for my job. I thought he was doing okay with his mother. If he’d told me—” He began to sob.

The stepfather claimed to have been on a hunting trip the week before the kid collapsed. Mom supported his assertion, but Seth felt sure she was lying. He’d long since quit wondering how a mother could support an abusive son of a bitch of a man even when he endangered her children.

When he encountered Eve at the hospital, they sat down in one of the small rooms set aside for doctors to talk privately to family members. She asked if he was close to making an arrest.

He shook his head. “I need to find some witnesses who can place the stepfather home that week. I’ve been doing a door-to-door, but I’m getting the feeling the neighbors are afraid of him, too.”

“The father has already put in for a transfer to a job that won’t demand so much travel. I’d ask for an assessment of him as a secure placement for James, but I can’t do that until you’re sure he wasn’t the abuser.”

“I can’t tell you that with a hundred percent certainty yet,” he said.

She sighed. “I have a receiving home lined up once he’s released.”

“I’ll do my best to get answers.”

She gave him a small, twisted smile. “That’s good enough for me. Your best is exceptional, Seth.”

“Thank you,” he said, surprised.

She picked up her briefcase but didn’t stand. “Have you heard from Bailey?”

He shook his head.

“Me, either. She called Mom and Dad, though. Said she worked for a few days, but couldn’t deal with being recognized. She might look for an office job or something, maybe on campus, but hasn’t decided. They said she sounded good, but...too upbeat. They worry she isn’t really happy.”

He hoped like hell Bailey wasn’t really happy, then castigated himself for wanting that. She of all people was owed some happiness.

When he didn’t say anything, Eve gave a small nod, acknowledging whatever she saw on his face. “Let me know,” she said, and left him sitting there in the small room, unsure whether she’d been referring to answers about the boy—or Bailey.

After a moment, he rubbed a hand over his face, allowed himself one groan, and heaved himself to his feet. One of the stepfather’s supposed hunting buddies had been dodging him, which suggested he didn’t want to outright lie. Time to corner him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C
ALLING
S
ETH
THE
first time was really hard. Bailey was afraid she’d break down, just hearing his voice. No, it wasn’t only that—she was afraid of so much. She was afraid he’d be angry because so much time had passed. It had been a whole month since they’d said goodbye, since she’d felt his arms around her.

And, she knew better, but still feared that, given so much time, he’d discovered he didn’t miss her, that whatever he’d felt had evaporated.

No, believing in anything good was still hard for her.

She had denied herself permission to call him until the month had passed because she needed to know she could do this on her own. That she wouldn’t be turning to him for the wrong reasons. And maybe she’d wanted to be immersed in classes so she
couldn’t
run back to Seth.

She had needed this month to think, and to absorb what she’d learned about herself, about her newfound family and about Seth. To an extent, it had worked.

She’d realized he and her father didn’t have much in common on the surface, but what they shared was the remarkable ability to be tender without ever looking at her with pity. Her memories of her early years were still few and fleeting, as they probably were for most people, but in the ones that included her father, she had always felt both loved and safe. The word
safe
might not have occurred to her then, but it was a powerful one for the Bailey who had learned so painfully how it felt
not
to be safe.

She thought a lot about the physical part of her relationship with Seth, since that was new, too. It hadn’t abated. When she pictured him, she felt a deep, aching knot that only he could loosen.

But, always, she came back to the reassurance and belief in her he offered. So, in the end, she closed her eyes and pictured his face as he told her how strong she was. And then her thumb pressed Send, and a moment later his phone was ringing.

She’d forgotten the resonance of his deep voice.

“Bailey?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Great start. “Um, I wanted to say hi.”

“I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Really?” Oh, pathetic. What did she want—him to tell her how miserable he was without her?

Yes?

“Your mother called a few days ago. Said you’re liking your classes.”

“School is really good.” Prompted by questions from him, she told him about some of her current classes, including Intro to Clinical Psychology and Children’s Learning and Cognitive Development. A little shyly, she admitted to being in the honors program, which meant taking a senior honors seminar spring semester and writing a thesis. “Oh, and I’m taking Pilates. I’ve got to do something to make up for my lazy lifestyle now that I’m not slinging heavy trays.”

He laughed, as she’d intended, but then said quietly, “No ballroom dance?”

A lump formed in her throat. “You kind of do need a partner.”

“Really? To take the class?”

“No, but...without the right partner, it wouldn’t be much fun.”

The silence throbbed with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t—wasn’t ready to say—as well as with whatever
he
wasn’t saying.

“Did you see the article in
People
about me?” she asked. She’d finally chosen them for an exclusive. Freelancers still trailed her sometimes, but she’d learned to ignore them. Mostly, interest was waning.

“I did. They did a reasonably sensitive job of it.”

“I thought so,” she agreed. She still hadn’t got over the weirdness of seeing her own face on the cover of a magazine displayed at seemingly every checkout in every grocery store in the country, or of flipping it open to see more photos of her, quotes from her.

“People treating you any differently than they did before this all blew up?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The new self-consciousness had dimmed her pleasure in returning to school. She’d known almost immediately she couldn’t stay on working at Canosa. Her boss, a brusque man uninterested in the private lives of his employees, was just about the only person who didn’t gape, or ask intrusive questions, or whisper with others when they thought she was out of earshot.

“People ask all the time if I’m Hope Lawson. I don’t think I could have kept on as waitstaff at Canosa or anywhere else. If not for the help from Karen—” she stopped herself “—Mom and Dad, I’d have had to find an office job where I didn’t interact with the public.”

“What about at the university?”

“There, too. I’m a five-second celebrity.” She tried for the light touch, but doubted he bought it. “I mean, I can tell the other students all read the articles about me. I think most of them went online to pull up the press conference, too. But it’s getting better. Except for Pilates, I’m in upper level classes, and everybody is feeling some stress because it’s our last year. Most of them are a lot younger than me, too, you know. Sometimes I feel ancient compared to them.”

He chuckled. “In other words, at their age, they’re self-centered enough to have lost interest in you pretty quick in favor of themselves.”

Bailey laughed. “I’m afraid so. And around campus...well, I’ve gotten pretty good with the disguises. I haven’t dyed my hair brown yet, but sunglasses, baseball cap, baggy USC Trojans T-shirt, and I pass incognito.”

His amusement pleased her. He commented that he’d heard she talked to Eve a few days ago.

“Mom told you?”

“Actually, Eve did. We’re working a case together. Kid that was brutally beaten. I made the arrest, she put him initially in a receiving home, then placed him with his father.”

“Then...it wasn’t the father who hurt him?”

He talked about the investigation, and how he’d finally got lucky—although it sounded to her as if it would be more accurate to say his persistence had paid off—when one of the stepfather’s buddies had admitted that the guy had left for two days in the middle of the hunting trip that had been his alibi. Once that friend had broken the wall of silence, the others had come forward, too.

“The stepfather talked to his wife every evening. The others wondered about that a little, but he was a controlling SOB, and it fit his pattern. He was mad about something she said one night and he told them he had to make a quick trip home to take care of something.”

Assaulted by memories, she murmured, “His stepson.”

There was a momentary silence. “Hell,” Seth said. “What was I thinking? You don’t need to hear about anything like this.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. It’s...it’s part of your life.” And if she was to let him in, she needed to know he wouldn’t close the door on what he did on the job. “Plus, you achieved justice for this boy. I want to hear about that. There was a time I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“Damn, Bailey.”

“What?”

“You break my heart.”

“You’ve said that before,” she said stoutly. “But you must hear stuff almost every day as heartbreaking.”

“With anyone but you, I can maintain some distance.”

Some of her tension subsided, leaving a warm glow in its place. Of course he was waiting, just as he promised. He was a man who meant what he said. She had a sudden image of herself clambering up a tree, not afraid in the least that a branch would break and she would crash to the ground, because there Seth was, standing below, prepared to catch her.

Past a constriction in her throat, she said, “Thank you. For saying that, I mean. I kept thinking...” She had to stop.

“What? That I was so mad at you I’d decided, to hell with her?”

She clutched the phone tight. “Something like that.”

“No, Bailey.” His voice hit a lower timbre. “I was never mad. I was afraid I was losing you. But I understand why you had to go.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

She composed herself. “Will you tell me the rest? I mean, about the boy?”

After a pause, he said, “There’s nothing that will surprise you. Once his story was blown, the boy’s mother confessed to what really happened. She’d told the bastard that the kid had pleaded with her to leave him. During that phone call, she made the mistake of saying, ‘Maybe I should. Unless you start treating us better.’ So he felt obligated to go home and beat the crap out of the boy and say, ‘Keep your goddamn mouth shut or it’ll keep happening.’ So she did.”

Bailey didn’t ask how the mother could have been so frightened of her husband, she had chosen obedience over her child’s safety.
Because I know
. Except it had been different for her. She’d been terrified into silence, too, but there hadn’t been anyone she felt the need to protect. If she’d had a little sister, would she have done anything differently? Bailey hoped so.

And I was a child, not an adult
.

“Have you found out anything more about Hamby?” It was all she could do not to say
him
. Probably Seth would have known who she was talking about, but maybe not.

“Nothing new,” he said, in a voice that told her he knew everything she felt.

“Are you still looking?”

“I will
never
quit looking. I promise you that, Bailey.”

Comforted, she could breathe again. “Okay.”

He asked if she’d talked to Anna, and she was able to smile.

“She’s doing great. A lot is coming back to her. She still calls Betty every few days, but she said her mom is okay with that. Her parents have put her in counseling, too, which is good.”

She and Seth talked for a few minutes more, about everything and nothing. At the end, he said, “I like hearing from you. Call me anytime, Bailey.”

“I will. I promise,” she added, and he was gone.

She knew now; she wanted to go to him, or at least ask him to wait for her. She was beginning to believe he would. But she had no practice at all in believing in people, so she convinced herself she had to give it longer.

Calling him next time would be easier. He’d said, “Anytime, Bailey,” and she thought he meant it.

She believed.

* * *

S
ETH
WAS
WALKING
out of a pawnshop where he’d been checking for some expensive jewelry stolen during a recent break-in when his phone rang.

His pulse quickened at the number displayed, as it did every time FBI Special Agent Drew Stuart called him.

“Chandler here.”

“We’ve got him,” Stuart said, voice rich with satisfaction. “The kid he had with him, too.” Here the pleasure was mixed with the darker knowledge of what this girl had endured and what she still had to face.

Ceasing to see his surroundings, Seth leaned against the fender of his car. “How? Where?”

“Suburb of Phoenix. Far as we know, he was just passing through. But he got in a fender bender, his fault, and the other driver was pissed when Hamby tried to take off. It was a woman, believe it or not. She managed to block his car in until the police arrived. And that’s where we got really lucky.”

“The officer remembered the BOLO.”

“He did. Saw the pretty little blonde, blue-eyed girl in the car. Sounds like he had Hamby in cuffs in the back of his unit quick enough to make his head spin.”

“The woman who prevented him getting away deserves a medal.”

“I agree.”

“Now what?” Seth asked.

“I’m guessing the first and best trial will take place in your county. That’s assuming Hope can identify him. Then we’ve got Gabriella Wilson. Utah will want a shot at him. And we’ll have a slam dunk once we identify the latest girl.”

Exultation and rage rose in a flash flood that slammed through Seth. “Damn,” he said. “Do you know what a long shot it was when I decided to try to find out what happened to Hope?”

“I do. But she’s not the first cold case you’ve closed. You’re good. The Bureau could use you. That’s an official invitation from higher up, by the way.”

Seth gave a half laugh. “Right now, I’m happy where I’m at.”

“You change your mind, you’ll get an enthusiastic recommendation from me.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated. “Have you called Bailey? Hope?”

“No, I thought you’d want to do that.”

“Thank you.”

They talked some more about the steps required to bring Hamby back to Washington state. After they were done, Seth got into his car, then sat there. Bailey might be in a class right now...but he didn’t want to wait to give her the news. She was entitled.

She answered right away. “Seth! You called me.”

It was a first, although they’d now talked half a dozen times since she left for California. So far, he’d left her in the driver’s seat, contrary to his nature though that was. But this was different. He couldn’t decide whether she sounded pleased or only surprised.

He went for blunt. “I just heard from Stuart. Hamby is in custody.”

The silence went on so long, Seth began to worry. He’d have given a lot to be able to deliver this news in person, to see her face. To be available to hold her.

“I never really believed...” she said, softly enough he had to strain to hear her.

“That we’d get him?”

“Yes.” She was quiet again for a minute. “He’s like...this monster that might be real but sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“He’s real,” Seth said grimly. “He had a girl with him.”

“Oh, God.” Her swallow was audible. “So many.”

“But he’s done, Bailey. If all goes well, he’ll be facing so many consecutive sentences, the closest thing he’ll get to a vacation will be the trip between one state’s correctional institute and the next.”

He had to tell her they were hoping she’d be able to identify him, which he could tell shook her, but she calmed down when he reminded her they’d have other shots at him—Anna, too, would have a chance to pick him out of a lineup, and once they identified the girl he’d had with him, they would have him cold.

“But he should serve time for taking me, too.”

“Yes, he should.”

“The only thing is, it’s been an awful lot of years.”

“I know it has. He may have changed enough you won’t recognize him. No one will blame you if you can’t. You know that, don’t you?”