It was much cooler, almost nippy since the sun had gone down. Cynthia zipped her color-blocked parka close around her throat. The sidewalk around the station was congested, the streets were filled with evening traffic.
“Are you from around here?” Cynthia asked.
“Yeah,” Eva answered. “I’m going to my sister’s. She and her old man said they had a room for me. My ma’s dead.” She walked with her shoulders hunched, her hands in her pockets.
“Mine, too,” Cynthia said, softly. “I’m from Detroit. I’ve only been gone a few hours and already I’m homesick.”
“First time away from home?”
“Not really. I never traveled by myself though. When I’ve gone away to boarding school, my dad always took me.”
“You a runaway?”
Cynthia shrugged, not answering. She didn’t really want to talk about why she was here alone. Besides, whenever she thought about her father and what she’d done she started to cry. She was determined not to make a fool of herself by acting like a crybaby. The other girl would think she was really stupid. After all, she was older—maybe even seventeen.
The restaurant was one of a popular nationwide chain. And it was busy. Hungry for the first time since leaving home, Cynthia ordered a double cheeseburger, fries and a large chocolate shake. Eva ordered a Coke.
“I thought you were hungry?”
The girl shrugged. “I’m a little short.”
“Short?”
“On cash. Got to make what I have last.”
“Oh,” Cynthia said in surprise. “I have enough for both of us.” She extracted a fifty dollar bill from her wallet, unaware of the other’s interest in its contents. “Go ahead. Order whatever you’d like.”
“Hey, thanks.” Eva smiled, taking a quick glance back over her shoulder.
They found an empty booth near the rear. Eva quickly took the seat facing the front entrance. Cynthia, busy taking off her jacket and getting comfortable, didn’t look around. Her companion chatted away, but her eyes were on the slim young man who had been following them. He sat at a booth by the door, sipping slowly from the soft drink in his hand.
Munching on fries, Eva asked, “So why were you crying in the John?”
“I got in trouble so I ran away.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Look, can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, just thought you could use a friend.”
“I can. It’s just I did a dumb thing, okay?”
“So you ran, huh?”
“Yeah. What do kids do around here for fun?”
“Not much. That’s why I’m cutting loose from this dump.”
“Are you running away, too?”
The girl laughed. “No need. Me and my old man don’t get on. The smart ass is always trying to run my life. Hey, I’m sixteen. I don’t need an old fart like him trying to beat my ass every time I’m a few minutes late. Hell, half the time he’s so drunk he don’t know if I’m dead or not. I say good riddance.” Eva had a mouth full of food. “You gonna eat that?”
Cynthia shook her head, passing over the half-eaten sandwich. Eva wasn’t like any of the girls Cynthia had met in boarding school or even at Lawrence. She was different. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Cynthia liked her. Finally, she had found someone who wanted to be her friend.
Quinn exited the interstate, following the secondary road to the gas station in order to refuel and stretch stiff muscles. Even though it was after nine, the station was busy and he had to wait for a free gas pump.
While Quinn was occupied with the car, Heather used the ladies room on the side of the building. When she rejoined him, he was pocketing money.
“Hungry?” he asked, holding her door open.
“Do we have time to eat?”
“I can eat and drive. Can you eat and ride?”
“Sure can.”
“Mrs. Thornton packed sandwiches, coffee, and apple juice. The basket is behind my seat. Sound good?”
“Very.”
Quinn positioned the basket where she could reach it before starting the car. “Hope you like sliced turkey and swiss.”
“Anything...” She smiled, handing him a sandwich before getting one for herself. “How much farther?”
“Little over a hundred miles. We should reach Dayton around eleven.”
They exchanged worried looks.
“I won’t feel right until we can see for ourselves that she’s safe.”
“That makes two of us.” He washed his sandwich down with a healthy swig of apple juice. “It’s nightfall and that makes me uneasy,” he said speeding along the interstate.
Heather ate slowly, her thoughts miles ahead with Cynthia. When she finished, she foraged in the basket. “Grapes—Want some?”
“Nope. You go ahead.”
She nearly choked on the fruit in her mouth when he said, “If I didn’t know better I’d think the men in Detroit have lost their eyesight as well as their good sense.”
“Where did that come from?”
“An opinion. Something wrong with that?”
“There you go, trying to put me on the defensive. I’m gonna have to watch out for you, Counselor.”
“Professional defect. Do you date?”
“Yes, as I’m sure you do. My brother is always fixing me up with one of his buddies. Did I tell you my twin brothers Carl and Bruce Gregory both play professional football?”
“No, you didn’t—but I recognize the names. Carl plays with Detroit and Bruce plays in Minnesota. I’m impressed.”
“Why? Because they play sports professionally?”
“Because you survived childhood with those two around. They’re huge.”
Heather laughed. “Our house was never quiet. Ever since Carl married, last year, he’s become a notorious matchmaker.”
“And...” he prompted.
“And nothing.” She looked over at Quinn.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Well what?”
“Do you date?”
“No.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said dryly. “Pull the other leg.”
Quinn laughed in spite of himself. “Why can’t a woman believe a man when he tells the truth? I have no reason to lie. You know as well as I do it takes time to develop and maintain a relationship.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“My case load is unreal. There’s no such thing in my life as free time.” He sighed. “I don’t know how, but that’s got to change. I’m just beginning to realize how unfair I’ve been to Cynthia. If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose my daughter.”
“You’re forgetting something, aren’t you? Cynthia loves you.”
Heather couldn’t stop herself from asking, “When you said you’re not dating, were you telling me that you’re celibate?”
“Yes. Why do you sound surprised? You having difficulty with that?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Casual sex doesn’t do it for me, Heather. At least, not anymore.”
“I suppose anything is possible.”
“You say that because I’m a man. You wouldn’t have any trouble believing another woman.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Oh, really? Think about it. I had no trouble believing you, sugar dumplin’.”
“You’ve made your point,” Heather said reluctantly.
Sipping from her soft drink, Eva asked, “A kid like you must get everythin’ she wants. Right?”
“Like me? What does that mean?” Cynthia asked, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Nice threads. Plenty of money. I’m no fool. You got real gold around your neck. Who’s your daddy? Some big shot, huh?”
Extremely uneasy, Cynthia began gathering up her things.
“Where you going?”
“I’m done. I’m going back to the bus station.”
“Hey, look. I didn’t mean nothin’. I was just askin’,” Eva said, hurrying to keep up with Cynthia.
They were on the sidewalk when Cynthia said, “You don’t have to come. I know my way back.”
“It’s cool.”
Cynthia frowned and watched the girl start off without her. For a few moments she stood undecided.
“Hey, wait for me,” Cynthia called.
The wind was brisk and it stung her cheeks. Eva was just disappearing into the dark night when Cynthia dashed after her.
Eva was several blocks away. She didn’t stop when Cynthia called out to her. She ducked into an alley. By the time Cynthia reached the narrow dark alley that ran down the center of the dilapidated L-shaped building, Eva had vanished.
Without a moment’s hesitation Cynthia continued on, wondering if Eva had gone through the side door. Dumpsters were piled high with trash, garbage littered the ground. Music blared from the bar housed on the ground floor.
Cynthia looked around uneasily, but there was no sign of Eva. A long sleek car was parked at the rear of the building. Where could Eva have gone? She couldn’t be inside the bar, could she?
Now what? Could she get back to the bus station on her own? It couldn’t be that far away, could it? Cynthia was beginning to doubt the wisdom of being so far away from the streetlights. Movement within the dumpster caused her to turn around and head back to the safety of the sidewalk.
She’d taken only a few steps when she found her exit blocked. A tall, lean man stood in such a way that his back was toward the street. She couldn’t make out his features, but he had red hair. Eva stood next to him.
“What’s going on?” Cynthia asked, shifting her heavy bag from one shoulder to the other.
“You did real good, baby. Real good,” he drawled. Although the compliment was for the other girl, his eyes never left Cynthia. “Don’t worry, Daddy will take care of you later, sugar.”
“Eva, who’s this man?” Cynthia asked, looking nervously from one to the other.
“I ask the questions.” He laughed as if he’d just told a joke. “My girl here tells me you’re all alone in the world. Need some looking after. I’m your man. I take care of my girls. The street ain’t safe for a pretty thing like you, baby. Not to worry. I’ll be your sweet daddy, I’ll take care of you, sugar.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cynthia said, too scared to take her eyes off of him. Something about him made her flesh crawl. “Let me pass, please,” she said as she approached cautiously.
When she tried to dash by, he grabbed her by the back of her jacket and swung her around roughly. Off balance, she suddenly found her back against his front, his arm across her rib cage. He muffled her screams with his hand. “It’s alright, baby. No one is going to hurt you.”
“Get the money.” He motioned with his head. Eva rifled through Cynthia’s things and found the wallet in an inside zipper pocket.
Cynthia screamed again. “No! That’s all the money I have!” She had close to seven hundred dollars in that wallet. Cynthia tried another scream as she fought desperately to get away.
“Be still, little girl, before I give you something to yell about, like a fat lip.”
“I want this,” Eva said, holding up a silk blouse. “You said I could keep her stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, come on—before someone comes.”
“I want the gold chain and the locket. I saw it. It’s around her neck.”
“No!” Cynthia cried. “You can’t have it!”
Cynthia kicked and twisted her body as much as she could. Her father would never forgive her if she lost the locket. Her mother’s picture was inside that locket. Panic set in when she realized what they could do to her besides steal her things. She was in danger—there was no one around to help her. Frantic with fear, Cynthia sank her teeth into the man’s hand and pushed him as hard as she could.
“Bitch!” he roared, ripping the gold locket and chain from around her neck. Swearing viciously, he shoved the screaming Cynthia as hard as he could, hurling her slight frame toward a nearby dumpster. She slammed head first into the unyielding metal, and crumpled onto the trash-littered concrete pavement.
Before he reached again for the unconscious Cynthia, someone yelled from the window overhead: “Hey, what goin’ on down there?”
Eva said urgently, “Let’s get the hell out of here before somebody calls the cops.”
“Finally,” Quinn sighed when they reached the city limits.
“Please, Dear God, let her be safe,” Heather prayed aloud.
Waiting for a traffic light to change, Quinn said softly, “I stopped praying the day I lost my wife. But today I haven’t been able to do anything else.”
“Is that the bus station over there?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Nervous?” she whispered, once he’d parked in the large dark lot behind a row of buses.
“A little,” he said quietly. He reached for her hand, in need of her support and reassurance. Heather gave both, returning the slow steady pressure of his fingers against her own.
“Remember, show her what’s in your heart.”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
“You mean to stand there and tell me you let my daughter walk out of here without trying to stop her! What the hell kind of place is this!” Quinn was livid, his whole body pulsed with it.
The security guard and the bus station manager exchanged a look before the manager said, “She walked out of here of her own free will. It’s not my job to stop her. Besides, as I told you before, she probably left while I was on the telephone. I didn’t see her leave. It’s not my fault.”
The security guard added, “Yeah. It got crowded for awhile there. I saw her when she went into the bathroom after Sue, the manager here, asked me to help keep an eye on her. She just disappeared.”
Quinn clenched and unclenched his jaw.
“Are you certain she didn’t return later?” Heather asked sharply.
“Positive.”
Quinn took Heather’s arm and pulled her toward the front door.
“But Quinn, we haven’t talked to—”
“We talked to everyone.” He swallowed the rage and fear coursing through his bloodstream.
“Where are we going?”
“Police station.”
Quinn’s face was set, devoid of emotion. His mouth was taut, his back straight as he concentrated on driving. She wanted to say something to him, reach him in that cold distant place he found within himself—a place that he kept hidden from others. Yet her own feelings were too involved, and silence lay between them like a fog, thick and clogging, until it seemed to weigh down even the air they breathed.
Quinn jerked the car to a stop along the curb. His voice was frustrated and angry as he asked, “Was that two left turns and a right at the light?” For a man trained to remember the tiniest detail, he couldn’t recall a few simple directions.
Heather knew his furor wasn’t directed outward but at himself. It was too dark in the car for her to see his features clearly, yet his pain was clear in his voice.
“Left at the next two lights then a right at the next corner,” Heather said soothingly. She reached out and stroked the hand resting on his knee. It was a tender caress meant to comfort.
He clasped her hand tightly for a few seconds, inhaling slowly, before releasing the pent-up air trapped in his lungs. Slowly he opened his hand, allowing her soft slim fingers to glide across the surface of his wide smooth palm. Ever so briefly he laced his fingers through hers, then released her and returned his hand to the steering wheel.
Their visit to the police station proved to be an exercise in acute frustration. There was no shortage of teenagers reported missing. Quinn made sure Cynthia’s name now topped the list. They left the station armed with the addresses and phone numbers of the local shelters and a map of the city.
“That was a waste of time! I want my daughter found... now! Anything could have happened to her.” His long strong legs moved quickly down the block toward the car.
Heather hurried to keep up with his rapid ground-eating pace. In heels, her five-two frame was no match for Quinn’s six-two, long-legged strides.
“They’re doing the best that they can. Thanks to our visit they have a picture of her and a car out looking for her. There is nothing more that can be done for the moment.”
“Look what it took to get a car out there? Hell, I had to practically call the mayor. You heard them! They don’t believe she’s still in Dayton! They think she’s on her way to L.A.”
“Quinn, that’s because a girl fitting Cynthia’s description boarded the bus tonight. It’s possible.”
“It’s highly unlikely. She’s here—I’m going to find her if it’s the last thing I do.”
A police station held no mystery to him. He’d dealt with them too many times in his work. The difference was that this time it had gotten personal. Too damn personal for his peace of mind. His baby was out there. And he wanted every cop in Dayton out looking for her.
Quinn reached the car, then looked around, surprised that Heather wasn’t right beside him. When she caught up to him, he asked, “Do you think she was on that bus to Los Angeles?”
“No. I think she’s here in Dayton. But it was a good idea for the authorities to fax Cynthia’s description on to California, just in case.”
Quinn nodded. “I don’t know why I took this list. Cynthia wouldn’t be in any of these places. Why would she go to a shelter?”
“It’s a place to start looking,” she said.
“She’s able to pay for a room. Our time would be better spent calling the hotels and motels in the area.”
“Quinn, the shelters are a start. There aren’t that many for runaways. It shouldn’t take long and we can show them Cynthia’s picture.”
“Okay,” he said tiredly.
Heather got into the car and sagged against the seat. She was every bit as tired as he was. But the lateness of the hour wasn’t worth worrying about. They had to find Cynthia—and tonight if possible. Whenever Heather thought about her alone on the streets, she shuddered. It was downright scary. How could Cynthia have put herself at risk like this? And for what? Quinn knew the worst. He knew she was pregnant. He accepted it. Why couldn’t Cynthia see that?
“What do you think happened?” Quinn asked, once they were under way. “What made her change her mind?”
“Quinn, she’s confused and very unhappy. I think she got scared at the prospect of facing you. That’s why she originally involved me in this, remember? She knows we’re on our way. So I don’t believe she’s left Dayton.”
“She wants to be found, Heather. I know she does. I heard it in her voice. So we’re talking about a few hours. What the hell happened?”
“We’ll find out,” Heather said evenly, controlling her fear for Cynthia. She had to stay steady if she was going to help the girl and her father.
Unfortunately there was no sign of Cynthia at the shelter. Quinn and Heather showed her picture around. It quickly became apparent that the few kids who were willing to look at Cynthia’s picture exhibited a measure of distrust toward adults. The night counselor at the last shelter suggested that they have pictures of Cynthia printed on flyers to be hung or passed out in places frequented by teens.
As they emerged from the last shelter, Heather paused to pull her jacket tight around her against the wind, which seemed to cut right through her. The car was several blocks ahead of them. She practically had to run to keep up with Quinn.
“Quinn!” she gasped as her ankle twisted.
He whirled around, managing to catch her, thus breaking her fall. “You alright?”
“No!” she snapped. “I twisted my blasted ankle trying to keep up with you. Ouch!” she cried, after trying to put her weight on the foot. “Now look what I’ve done.”
“It’s those silly shoes you women wear. Those heels must be four inches high,” he said, lifting her up and into his arms.
“Three,” she corrected stiffly, lacing her fingers behind the strong column of his neck.
“Why do you need the damn things?”
“If you were five-two and most of the students you counseled were taller than you are, you’d wear them, too.” She wasn’t about to admit that vanity had a lot to do with it. She’d always wanted to be tall.
Quinn hid a smile.
She felt so stupid. He had enough on his mind without having to take care of her.
In a few moments Quinn had her tucked inside the car and he slid behind the steering column. “Let’s have a look at that ankle.”
Exasperated with herself, she wondered why she hadn’t worn jeans. And what difference would that have made when she tended to wear heels even with jeans? The only flats she owned were aerobic shoes—and they were at home in the back of her closet.
With her leg propped on his thigh, Quinn carefully removed her shoe. His large hands were gentle on her tender flesh. “Wiggle your toes. Great. It’s swollen, but it looks as if you’ve only twisted it.” Quinn continued to cradle her small foot in a wide palm, his fingers caressing her soft skin through her hose.
“We need to get you to a hotel and that foot into some water. A good soak and an elastic bandage is all you need.”
Quinn caught himself, mastering the urge to explore the tempting length of her leg. She had such beautifully shaped calves and firm thighs. He imagined the skin along the inside of her thigh was incredibly soft and smooth to the touch. He breathed in sharply he put a firm rein on his thoughts.
Heather was disappointed when he released her. For a short time she’d forgotten everything but him as she’d indulged her senses in the pleasure of his hands on her body. Quinn chose a downtown hotel. It was nearly 2 A.M. Heather’s ankle was throbbing so badly that she doubted she could put her shoe back on, let alone walk inside. Quinn settled the matter—he carried her. Her face heated when they registered at the reception desk. Their rooms were on the second floor. He didn’t put her down until they were inside her room.
“They probably think we’re honeymooners,” Heather said in embarrassment.
“With separate rooms?”
“Connecting rooms,” she said, from the edge of the double bed.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked, looking around.
“It’s fine.”
“Be right back. I’ll get the bags.”
Heather was beat and tempted to curl up across the bed. But that would have to wait.
He knocked briefly before turning the key in the lock. Heather was busy flipping through the telephone book.
“It shouldn’t take too long to call the motels and hotels in the area.”
“That foot needs to be soaked.”
“Quinn, we don’t have time to waste. If we can we’ve got to find her tonight. I’ve started on the first half of the alphabet, why don’t you take the last.”
Sharing her sense of urgency, he recognized that time was the enemy. Cynthia had already been left too long on her own. Quinn grabbed his bag and left saying, “Good luck.”
Little more than an hour later, Quinn knocked on the outside door. “Just a second,” Heather called, hopping over to the door on one foot. “Come on in,” Heather said, before hopping back to the telephone. “Sorry,” she said into the mouthpiece. “Do you have anyone fitting that description?” She waited, listening. “Thank you.” She hung up.
“Well?” he asked hopefully, having completed his own list of numbers.
Her eyes were as disappointed as his. “Nothing. You?” When he shook his head, she had to bite her lips to keep from crying. “Quinn, I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“I just don’t understand. It’s as if she just disappeared.”
“People don’t just disappear. Something happened. I won’t rest until I find out what it was. She wanted to come home, damn it—I know that much.” He didn’t dare voice his worst fears—that somehow Cynthia might have been hurt, robbed, or raped, kidnapped, or even murdered. He shuddered while his stomach felt like it was boiling.
“Yes, she did. And we must remember that. We’ll find her, Quinn,” Heather said softly. He looked so tired.
He nodded. “One good thing came from all those calls. I found a twenty-four hour drugstore not too far from here. Now if I can find an all-night diner.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Sure, aren’t you?”
“It’s so late. I can wait till morning.”
Quinn tossed her room key on the dresser before going into the bathroom, all without comment. She heard the splash of water in the bathtub. “You soak that foot while I’m gone. I’ll get the elastic bandage, Tylenol, and food. Anything else?”
“You’re awfully good at giving orders, aren’t you?”
“About as good as you are, sugar dumplin’. Salad and soup?”
“And a chocolate shake.”
“Need any help getting into the tub, Sugar?”
“No!”
Quinn left chuckling. Heather laughed, too. After the many hours of anxiety they’d endured, they both could use something to smile about.
And she’d gone and twisted her ankle! Just how much help could she be to him now?