Jennie held her breath as the door she’d just closed swung open.
“Find anything interesting?”
Jennie’s gaze traveled from the shiny black shoes, up the pressed blue uniform, past the grim mouth, and into Rocky’s piercing blue eyes. She gulped and offered a wane smile. “We … I …”
“Spit it out, McGrady. What are you two doing here?”
He was still holding on to the door and Jennie ducked under his arm. He gestured for Lisa to come out as well. She did. “We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Lisa said staring up at him with the same wide-eyed expression Jennie had seen her give traffic cops who had the nerve to stop her. “Since Nick was here last, Jennie thought he might have gotten locked in … or something.” Her voice trailed off when Rocky glared at her.
He turned back to Jennie. “I should haul you in for breaking and entering.”
But he wouldn’t. Jennie’s heart settled back into its appropriate cavity. “I didn’t break in. I have a key. How did you know we were here?”
“Funny thing. I was driving by and saw lights in the window. I figured either the Stuarts were home or they had a prowler.”
“Guess we shouldn’t have turned on the lights.”
“You should have talked to your mother—or to me—first. It might have saved you some time.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean,” he drawled, “is that we searched the house last night.”
“Oh.” Jennie frowned and added, “I thought you needed a search warrant or something. That’s why I decided to do it myself.” Embarrassed at being caught, Jennie looked down at their shoes—her worn, dingy white Nikes, his polished black ones.
“We don’t need a warrant in a case like this. When a child is missing, we can go in if we have reason to believe he might be there.”
Jennie knew what Rocky would say next. The last thing she needed was a lecture on leaving the investigation to the police. When Rocky didn’t chastise her she lifted her gaze to his face. His features had softened and his eyes were no longer a stormy gray, but warm as a summer sky. Jennie nearly melted. Oh no, McGrady, not again. You are not going to humiliate yourself again by drooling over a guy who’s too old for you. Still, when he looked at her like that—like he cared … Jennie broke eye contact. Forget it, McGrady. Jennie mentally whacked herself alongside the head as if to dispel the ridiculous path her thoughts had taken.
“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to tell me to stop playing detective?” she asked sarcastically.
“Ordinarily I would, but we’re talking about a missing child here. With all the dead ends we’re coming up against we need all the help we can get.”
Rocky then surprised her by pulling a pad and pen out of his shirt pocket. “So, Sherlock, what did you and Watson here find that Portland’s finest might have missed?”
He was baiting her. Challenging her to hold on and not be discouraged. Jennie shifted her thoughts from not finding Nick in the house to the possibility that she might be able to piece some clues together. “Most of Hannah’s clothes are gone. So are some of Mrs. Stuart’s. It looks like they went on a trip.”
Rocky nodded. “We suspected that. We’re checking it out now. So far all we know is that Chuck Stuart took a few days off work. Apparently they didn’t bother to let anyone know where they were going. Anything else?”
“Their bikes are missing. All of them—not just Hannah’s and Nick’s.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. and Mrs. Stuart both had them?”
Jennie nodded. “They biked a lot. Nick sometimes went along when they went to the parks around here.” As Jennie pictured the garage another realization came to mind. “The cars. Both cars are gone.” Jennie recalled seeing Chuck Stuart leave the night she got home. “If they went on a trip they wouldn’t need both cars.”
“Unless they had to leave at different times,” Rocky made a note on his pad.
“Hannah’s room. It’s really messy—everything else is neat. I don’t know if that means anything. Her doll case is missing, too. It’s like they planned to be gone awhile. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but do you think it’s possible they took Nick with them?”
Rocky shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough. We’re calling their friends and relatives now. We should be able to locate them fairly soon.”
Rocky escorted them out of the house and back to Jennie’s, then left. Jennie sat on the porch next to Lisa and watched until the taillights disappeared around the corner of the next block.
“What is going on between you two?” Lisa asked.
“What? Who?” Jennie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“You and Rocky. And don’t try to deny it. I saw the way you looked at each other.”
“I’ve been trying to figure it out myself.”
“You’re mom would never let you date him, you know.”
“I don’t want to date him, Lisa.” Jennie stared at a spot where the paint had started to peel and picked at it. “I think it’s because he’s a cop, you know. Maybe we’re like—kindred spirits.” Her thoughts about Rocky slid out of focus. She felt guilty again. What’s with you, McGrady. You shouldn’t be out here thinking of how you feel about Rocky. You need to concentrate on finding Nick.
Lisa rested her head on her knees. Her eyes drifted closed. She stifled a yawn and mumbled, “’S’all right. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry, Jen. I can’t stay awake anymore.”
“Then go to bed.” Jennie ruffled Lisa’s already mussed-up curls. “It’s okay, really. Thanks for hanging in there with me.”
Lisa muttered something that sounded vaguely like “you’re welcome,” then stumbled inside.
Jennie stood and stretched. She needed something to revive her. Food maybe. Or a shower. Hushed voices and the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen told Jennie her mother and Aunt Kate were up. For some reason, the thought of facing Mom tied her stomach in knots. Instead of heading into the kitchen, she went upstairs to Nick’s room. Jennie scooped up Nick’s blanket and Coco and climbed into Nick’s bed. She’d only intended to stay a minute, but her eyes drifted closed and opening them again required more strength than she could muster.
Two thoughts pierced Jennie’s mind as the need for sleep dragged her into the darkness. In one, Nick was crying. “I need my blanky. I need Coco.” Jennie reached out to put her arms around him and hugged his blanket closer.
Suddenly Nick was gone and Jennie heard her father’s voice. “I have enemies, Jennie. I can’t come home. I can’t take the chance.”
Jennie awoke to car doors slamming and a flurry of voices. Gram. Everything would be okay now. Jennie couldn’t remember what was wrong, but something had to be. She snuggled deeper under the covers. Coco’s furry head was lodged against her arm. The satin binding of Nick’s blanket lay under her cheek. Nick’s bed. What was she doing in Nick’s bed? And where was Nick? She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her head ached and her mouth felt like something had died in it. Jennie crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.
Her brain kicked in as she showered. So did her memory. Wrapped in a large blue towel, Jennie exited the bathroom and went into her room to change. Lisa was still asleep. According to the clock on her bedside stand—which read 10:00—and the sun trying to sneak between her blinds, they’d been asleep for nearly three hours. She threw on a pair of shorts and what she hoped would be a matching shirt, grabbed a brush, and tried to get her tangled hair into a pony tail.
Not even Gram’s presence could raise Jennie’s hopes. She felt frozen inside. It was the same kind of sensation she’d had after being told that Dad’s plane had gone down in Puget Sound. The one thing that had kept her going was faith that he was still alive. He had been. He still was. Dad hadn’t come back, but at least she knew the truth. Things would work out with Nick too.
The thought she’d had just before falling asleep that morning came back to haunt her. Nick’s disappearance could have something to do with her father. You’re way off base, McGrady, she told herself. Dad wouldn’t let something like that happen. Jennie yanked the snarls out of her long hair, wishing she could discard her thoughts as easily. Unfortunately, it could happen. It had happened to her. One of Dad’s enemies had gotten to her on a Caribbean cruise. He’d been arrested, but according to her father there were others. Jennie wished she could contact Dad, but that wasn’t possible. By now he had a new identity and only an elite few knew it. Besides, trying to contact Dad could place him and their entire family in danger again.
Pony tail in place, Jennie walked over to the pictures she kept on top of her dresser. She picked up the one of her father. His dark blue eyes smiled back at her. He didn’t look the same now. His beautiful black hair, or what was left of it, had been tinted brown to help conceal his real identity. But she talked to the photo anyway. “What do I do now, Dad? What if someone took Nick to get back at you?”
She was surprised at how quickly the answer came. You have to talk to Gram. There’s no other way. “Sorry, Dad,” Jennie murmured as she set the picture back. “I know I said I wouldn’t, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Jennie went in search of her grandmother. Somehow she’d have to get Gram away from the others so they could talk. “How about a run?” she suggested when she found Gram in the kitchen.
“I’d like that.” Gram set her coffee down and turned to Mom. “You don’t mind, do you, Susan?”
“Of course not.” To Jennie she said, “You should eat something first.” Jennie drank a glass of milk and ate a piece of peanut butter toast, then headed for the door.
During their run, Jennie told Gram what had really happened in the Caribbean. “I’m afraid one of Dad’s enemies might have kidnapped Nick.”
“I can see … why you’d be concerned,” Gram puffed.
“You don’t seem surprised—about Dad, I mean … you already knew all that, didn’t you?”
Gram nodded. “Not officially. As far as the federal agencies are concerned, I don’t.” Gram slowed to a walk. “I’m not sure Jason knows I recognized him. Although I doubt he’d be surprised. I am his mother, you know.”
“I wondered.” Jennie eased back to stay in step with her grandmother. “What are we going to do, Gram? What if it is one of Dad’s enemies?”
“J.B. and I have already discussed the possibility, but I’ll talk to him again. I do know that he’s alerted his contacts in both the FBI and the DEA.”
“So what do we do in the meantime?”
“We try to find Nick.”
“Gram …”
She gave Jennie cautioning look. “The less said, the better. I promise I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
It wasn’t the answer Jennie wanted, but it would have to do. They didn’t talk much during the rest of the three-mile run. As they neared Magnolia Street, a powder-blue van pulled into one of the driveways. Jennie stopped.
“What is it, dear?” Gram asked. What’s wrong?”
“The Stuarts.” Jennie broke into a run. “They’re back.”