Vanished

EIGHT

Day four, 5:30 a.m.: Ashley missing eighty-three hours

J.T. cradled his first cup of coffee for the new day, sure it wouldn’t be his last. The evening before exhaustion finally took over and sleep came—for a few hours. Then the dreams—no, nightmares—invaded. A parade of criminals assailed him with all the reasons why they were the ones who kidnapped Ashley, their sinister faces seared into his mind as though they branded him.

“Dad, did you get any rest?” Neil trudged into the kitchen, went directly to the pot of coffee and poured himself a mug.

“Some. How about you?”

Neil took the chair next to J.T. at the glass table, rested his elbows on the plaid place mat and sipped his drink. “Some. I heard you get up and decided that I wasn’t fooling anyone. Four hours of sleep was about all I’m going to get. I can’t get Ashley out of my mind. I remember the last time I saw her when I dropped her off at school.” His son set the mug on the mat and stared at the black liquid as though he could picture Ashley’s face in it. “I didn’t even wave goodbye like I usually do because I was running late. She did. I saw her in the rearview mirror as I pulled away from the curb.”

Neil’s last words, uttered in a hoarse whisper, sliced through J.T. as if he had been shot. He, too, remembered times he should have slowed down and spent more time with Ashley—with all his children. “She knows you love her.” He said that as much to reassure himself as Neil.

His son’s gaze riveted to his. “How do we become so busy that we don’t see the little things that are so important? Like my sister waving goodbye to me?”

J.T. put down his own cup, his hands encircling it. The warm ceramic felt nice against his cold fingers. “Good question. I need to be here for you and Kim, but I also need to be the sheriff and find Ashley. It’s hard to be everything at once.”

Neil picked up his mug and took a long sip. “Don’t worry about me, Dad. I know Ashley must come first.”

When had his son grown up? Looking at him, J.T. saw a mature young man who would be leaving in a few months. Neil would be moving out of his home and going to college. His son would be beginning a new phase of his life. Mixed feelings—happiness, sadness—bombarded J.T. “Kim is taking this hard.”

“I know. She thinks she’s responsible for Ashley’s kidnapping.”

J.T.’s grip on his cup strengthened, strain flowing down his arms all the way to his fingertips. “She isn’t. This doesn’t have anything to do with you or her at all. It’s me. I’m the reason.”

“What are we going to do if we can’t find—”

J.T. heard footsteps coming down the hallway and placed his finger to his mouth. Neil glanced toward the doorway at the same time Kim came into the room.

His son smiled at his younger sister. “It’s about time you got up. Dad and I have been up for—” he shifted his gaze to the clock on the wall “—at least a half hour. But I guess a girl has got to get her beauty sleep.”

Kim yawned and plowed her fingers through the mass of curls about her face. She peered out the window. “It’s still dark.”

“Not for long.” J.T. shoved himself to his feet and crossed the room to Kim. He took her into his arms and held her for a long moment. “I’m cooking breakfast. How do you feel about pancakes?”

She shrugged away and folded her arms over her chest, a dull look on her face. “I’m not hungry.” She shuffled toward the table and plopped in the chair at the end, slouching forward.

“Honey, you need to eat something. It isn’t every day I volunteer to cook your favorite breakfast.” J.T. settled his hand on her shoulder.

She yanked away. “I bet Ashley isn’t eating, so I shouldn’t. That’s the least I can do since—” Swallowing hard, Kim swung around to stare out the window, stiff as if she were frozen in place.

J.T. drew in a deep, composing breath, his own nerves stretched to the limit. The windowpane reflected her mutinous expression. He grasped the back of the chair and scooted it around so she faced him. He clasped both of her upper arms and knelt in front of her.

At first his daughter refused to look at him. He waited with the fragile patience he mustered to get through to Kim. Finally her gaze connected with his. The pain he glimpsed in her eyes mirrored his own. He wasn’t going to let the kidnapper harm Kim, too—even emotionally.

“You are not to blame. You did not take Ashley. You did not want anything to happen to her.”

A tear coursed down her cheek. “But, Daddy, I told you I wished I didn’t have a sister. I got my wish. I caused this to happen.”

He inhaled a shallow breath, but it wasn’t enough to fill his lungs. They burned from the lack of rich oxygen. “You didn’t,” he managed to whisper after another deep gulp of air. “You had nothing to do with this. It’s not unusual for siblings to wish that.”

“Yeah, shrimp. I did several times when you bugged me too much. Remember that time you followed me and Kyle to the park and wouldn’t leave me alone?” Neil got up and walked over to the counter to refill his coffee.

“But you two were meeting girls.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Honey, you didn’t wish this to happen to Ashley.”

Kim’s tears continued to fall. “God must hate me. I shouldn’t have thought that.”

“God loves you and forgives you. Why can’t you forgive yourself?” J.T. massaged his hands up and down her arms, her skin so cold. He wanted to transmit some warmth into his daughter, but he was afraid he had none to give.

Kim hiccuped. “I’m a bad person. I—” Another hiccup sounded in the quiet.

J.T. hauled her against him, holding her so fiercely that Kim finally had to murmur, “Daddy, I can’t breathe.”

He pulled away a few inches and looked down at her. “Sorry, honey.” He hitched up his mouth at one corner. “I want you to realize how important you and your brother are to me. You are not the bad person.”

“The one who is bad—no, evil—is the kidnapper, shrimp.” Neil passed Kim and tousled her hair. “And I don’t want you to forget that. We’ll get him, though, won’t we, Dad?”

J.T. nodded, praying it was the truth.

The doorbell chimed. Its sound knifed through the silence and separated J.T. and Kim.

He headed toward the front of the house. “Kim, get out the ingredients for pancakes. We’re having a big breakfast, you two.” He opened the door to find Madison standing before him.

Behind her, dawn crept through the yard, lightening the darkness to a muted gray. She smiled and the gesture went straight through him, warming some of the coldness.

“I saw your lights on.” Madison walked into the house. “Your dark circles aren’t as pronounced as yesterday. You must have gotten some sleep.”

“A few hours. How about you?”

“About the same.”

He grinned slightly. “We’re quite a pair.” He shut the door, wishing he could shut the real world out that easily. “What have you heard?”

“The burned corpse was finally identify as Max Dillard. The police got the dental records because he was in the army. He isn’t one of the criminals you put away.”

He gestured toward the manila folder she carried. “Do you have his photo?”

“Yes.” She handed it to him.

He flipped it open and immediately realized it wasn’t anyone he’d ever seen. He rarely forgot a face, especially of someone he arrested. He’d been staring at their photos for days. He saw them in his sleep. “So now, we go interview the girlfriend. Maybe she’ll remember something that will help us.”

“Sounds like a plan. I have her address in Central City.”

“I guess she wouldn’t appreciate us waking her up. I’m fixing breakfast for the kids. Join us, then we can head to Central City.” The invitation sounded so normal. When would his life ever return to some kind of normalcy?

Madison followed him into the kitchen and greeted his children while he took out the griddle and gathered the ingredients on the counter to mix into batter. He listened to Madison make small talk with Neil and Kim and realized she fit right in with his family. Even last year when they had been on the murder case together, she had gotten along well with his children.

J.T. stirred the batter until the lumps were gone. Did she want a family? The question popped into his mind when he heard her elicit a laugh from Kim. It stunned him. When had he begun to look at her in a different light?

“Yep, Daddy managed to burn the pancakes the first time he fixed them.” Kim chuckled again.

“And we’re letting him prepare them now?” Madison waved her hand at him. “Isn’t there something wrong with this picture?”

J.T. spun around with a metal spatula in his hand, brandishing it like a weapon. “Anytime any of you wants to help me, go right ahead. I won’t stand in your way.”

“Oh, no, Dad. We’ll let you do all the work. You need the practice.” Neil lounged back in the chair as though nothing was going to budge him.

J.T. pointed at each one of them, as relaxed as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Madison stretched out her legs and crossed them at her ankles. Kim hooked her arm on the back of her chair. He wished he could preserve this moment, but reality was only a heartbeat away. “I think there’s something wrong with this picture.”

“Daddy—” Kim nodded toward the griddle behind him “—the pancakes are burning.”

He whirled around and quickly removed the six, slightly charred pancakes. After putting the next batch on to cook, he brought the platter to the table. “There’s more where that came from.”

Neil scooted close to the table and forked several. “That’s what we’re afraid of, but I’m starved so I’ll make the sacrifice and eat these.”

Kim leaned close to Madison and whispered loudly so everyone could hear, “He’ll eat anything. He’s a human garbage disposal.”

“I am not, shrimp.” Neil stabbed the air with his fork, his first mouthful of pancakes on its end.

“Hey, you’re supposed to wait for grace.” Kim exaggerated a pout.

“Tell you what, Kim and Neil, I’ll say it. Then he can eat them while they are still warm.” Madison straightened in the chair.

“You mean burned.”

J.T. moved toward the table with the metal spatula still in hand. Listening to Kim tease Neil gladdened J.T.’s heart. Somehow they would find Ashley and he would put his family back together. Madison made it seem possible. “That sounds like a good idea.” J.T. bowed his head.

Madison linked hands with J.T. and Kim. “Father, bless this food and each one in this room. Please bring Ashley home to us and watch out for her in the meantime. Give us the strength to do what’s right. In Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.”

The prayer sobered the moment and brought the real world crashing down upon J.T. He finished preparing the pancakes then sat at the table, the easy camaraderie gone. Guilt nibbled at him. Scanning the faces around the table, he came to the conclusion the others felt the same guilt he did. For a few minutes they had enjoyed themselves while Ashley was out there somewhere.

J.T. stared down at his three pancakes and couldn’t muster the will to eat. His stomach coiled into a huge knot. He picked at his food.

After lavishing butter and syrup on her stack, Madison brought the first bite to her mouth and chewed. “These are good.” She locked gazes with each one of them at the table. “You all haven’t done anything wrong. Eat.”

J.T. didn’t want his children to feel guilty for enjoying anything, even a little time away from the case. “Yeah, Madison’s right. You need to eat.” He took a bite of his pancakes and, although they tasted bland to him, he made a point of chewing and swallowing them.

Day four, 8:30 a.m.: Ashley missing eighty-six hours

The outskirts of Central City loomed in front of Madison. She slid a glance toward J.T. Since they’d left his house over a half hour ago, he’d been silent as he’d driven, the strong line of his jaw transmitting his stress. As expected, he was living and breathing this case 24–7. She wasn’t sure how he kept himself together. Sheer willpower and determination.

She angled toward him. “I think you’ve got some hidden talents you haven’t told anyone about.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I do?”

“Breakfast was good.”

“You didn’t have Neil’s pancakes.”

“True, but when you kept your attention on them, they were fine. I never took the time to really learn to cook. I know I should, but work has always filled so much of my life that it was easier to order in or eat out.”

He gave her a half grin. “For me, I either had to learn or I would have had a rebellion on my hands. My children like to eat and I refuse to order pizza every other night.”

“Survival. That’s a good reason.”

“What are you going to do when you get married?”

Madison mimicked him quirking his eyebrow. “I do believe that is a sexist comment, Mr. Logan.”

He chuckled. “You’re probably right.”

She liked hearing his laugh even if it was brief. “Besides, I’m married to my job. You know the kind of hours we keep.”

“So no one is waiting for you in Chicago?”

“Not that I know of. I was engaged once and that is the closest I want to come to getting married.” As she stated what she had believed for three years, the usual conviction wasn’t there. She couldn’t get out of her mind the few minutes of camaraderie at the table in J.T.’s kitchen this morning. She’d felt a part of his family and liked that a lot.

He turned onto a side street from the main highway. “What happened? Why didn’t you get married?”

“My fiancé decided my job wasn’t something he could handle. Of course, he didn’t let me know that. He just decided not to show up at the church the day of the wedding. He had his best man deliver my Dear Jane letter to the bride’s room where I was getting dressed in my gown.”

“I’m sorry. It sounds like he was a coward.”

“Among other things. I know I was lucky to find out before the wedding what kind of man he really was, but it hurt badly nevertheless. I didn’t see it coming. It makes me doubt my ability to read people, which isn’t good for my job.”

“So he’s the reason you don’t want to get married? He’s only one guy.”

“But he’s right. My job is demanding and dangerous. You know that better than most. If I hadn’t been so busy, I would have seen it coming.”

He pulled up in front of the diner where Max had worked. “I know what a job can do to a relationship. My wife told me when we got married that she could handle the danger part of my job as long as I didn’t shut her out. It didn’t work.”

“When did you start shutting your wife out?”

“When she became pregnant with Ashley, I think. I figured out that my talking shop upset her more than she ever let on. She’d become quite good at covering up her fear.”

“Were you drinking?”

“I drank occasionally. I started drinking seriously shortly before Ashley was born.”

Madison put her hand on the handle. “So telling your wife had been good therapy and the bottle became your outlet after that.”

“You can’t keep things inside of you for long. Something has to give.” J.T. exited the Jeep and caught her gaze over its top. “In my case my life.”

She peered at the diner with its large picture window with the name of the place plastered in bold red letters across the top of the glass—Big Mama’s Diner. “How do you want to do this?”

“Let’s play it by ear. I don’t imagine Max’s girlfriend has anything to hide. She did call the police about the fact that Max was missing.”

“Good cop, good cop. I like that.”

Madison entered the oblong eatery with the traditional counter, red leather stools and red leather booths. The decor was almost nonexistent—off-white walls with a few old posters of Central City. She headed toward an empty booth at the end by the restrooms and pay phone and slid in. J.T. sat across from her.

A waitress with Nancy embroidered across the top right corner of her white shirt stopped at the booth. She removed the pencil stuck in her curly hair. “What can I get you two?”

“Is Paula working today?” Madison took her FBI badge out of her purse and showed it to the woman.

Nancy’s eyes grew round. “This is about Max, isn’t it?”

“Yes, do you know anything about why he would be on Crystal Lake driving a speedboat?” J.T. handed back the menus to the waitress.

“No, and for the record I didn’t like the man. I warned Paula about him. Shifty eyes if you ask me. He came here this time last year, bragging about how great a cook he was, how he had worked years at a cafe in Southern Illinois and people used to come for miles around to eat his food.” Her mouth pinched and brows lowered into a frown, Nancy scanned the half-filled diner. “He ain’t done anything like that here. This is about as crowded as it gets. I’ll get Paula. She’s in back.” The waitress started to turn away but stopped. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll take a cup of coffee.” Madison looked toward the back behind the counter but only saw an older woman whom she doubted was Max’s girlfriend.

“Me, too.”

While Nancy went to get the coffee and Paula, Madison shook her head, chuckling. “Where do people get that shifty eyes means a person is a criminal?”

“Beats me. But in Max’s case what was he doing in Crystal Springs? Was he in on the kidnapping and had a falling-out with his partner?”

“Yeah, those shifty eyes are a dead giveaway.”

“At least they weren’t beady ones.”

Madison laughed. “Quit it. I won’t be able to keep a straight face when we interview Paula.”

“Shh. I think she’s coming over here.”

Madison glanced over her shoulder and saw a young woman in her late twenties with stringy brown hair that hung limply to her shoulders making her way toward them with two cups of coffee.

“Nancy said you wanted to see me. You’re with the police. I’ve already talked with two yesterday afternoon. Don’t you all share your information?” Wariness lined Max’s girlfriend’s face, her tone surly. She plopped the mugs down in front of them, some of Madison’s coffee sloshing out.

“I’m with the FBI and we’re working a kidnapping case in Crystal Springs. We needed to ask you some—”

“I don’t know nothing about no kidnapping.” Paula took a step back.

“I wanted to ask you about Max Dillard,” Madison said quickly before the woman fled. “You reported him missing.”

Surprise replaced the wary look in Paula’s eyes. “Max wouldn’t do no kidnapping.”

“We aren’t saying that he did. We just need to know about the job Max took to earn some extra money.” J.T. lifted the mug to his mouth, his gaze intent on Paula.

“I don’t know nothing.”

“You don’t know who hired him, what he was supposed to do?” Madison took her napkin and wiped up the coffee around her cup. “Someone killed him. We think the person who hired him did it. We can’t find his killer without your help.”