"Have You Seen Her?" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rose Karen)Chapter Ten Jenna stumbled out of her bedroom, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drawing her to the kitchen like a magical lode-stone. Casey must be awake, she thought. She'd arrived late the night before and stayed over, just like the old days in the Duke dorm. Cradling the hot cup between her palms, she walked back to her spare bedroom where Casey lay in bed watching TV, Jim curled up at her feet and Jean-Luc with his head on her pillow. "What do you want for breakfast?" Jenna asked through a jaw-breaking yawn. "Sshh!" Casey hissed and it was then Jenna noticed how pale Casey had become. Alarmed, Jenna sat on the edge of the bed, pushing Jean-Luc aside. "What is it?" "The police are talking about the second missing girl," Casey murmured. "Oh, no," Jenna whispered as the weeping parents implored whoever had stolen their daughter to bring her home. "Those poor parents." Casey said nothing, but the coffee cup she held in her hands trembled. Jenna put Casey's cup on the nightstand and listened to the reporter solemnly finish with a reminder of the first kidnapped girl, whose body had been discovered a few days before, butchered beyond recognition. "Raleigh law enforcement gave a press conference this morning, but refused to make any comments or speculations at the time," said the reporter. Then the scene switched to the press conference and Jenna drew a startled breath. Steven Thatcher stood on the podium, looking impossibly handsome as he faced a barrage of questions from the media. "What?" Casey asked. "Who is that?" "Sshh," Jenna hissed, not taking her eyes from the screen. "-no comments at this time," Steven was saying. "Do we have a serial killer stalking young women?" a reporter shouted and Jenna watched Steven's jaw tighten. "We are not speculating at this time," Steven returned evenly. "Do you believe the abduction of Samantha Eggleston is related to the murder of Lorraine Rush?" another reporter insisted. Bulbs flashed and Steven frowned. "We are investigating any and all leads. We can't afford to rule out that possibility at this time." Again he tightened his jaw as if clenching his teeth. He looked exhausted. Jenna was worried about him and annoyed with the media at the same time. The scene switched back to the CNN anchor. Then there was silence as Casey hit the mute button on the remote. Neither of them said a word for a full minute. Casey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dammit, Jen. What if we do have a serial killer out there? That's two girls in the last two weeks. What if one of our girls is next?" Jenna squeezed Casey's hand. "I don't know. But I do know that if Steven's on the job, he'll make sure everything's being done that can be done." "Steven?" Casey asked cautiously. "As in Brad's dad? That guy was Brad's dad?" Jenna abruptly stood, making both dogs look up expectantly. "Yes. Agent Steven Thatcher. Brad's dad." Casey's eyes instantly focused. "Okay," was all she said. Perfunctory responses from Casey were never a good thing. "What does that mean?" Casey shrugged. "It means okay." "Your okays never just mean okay." Casey retrieved her coffee cup from the nightstand and took a sip. "Jen, sometimes a cigar is The mental image was too powerful to ignore. "What is that supposed to mean?" Jenna demanded, feeling her cheeks flush. Casey blinked. "You're blushing!" "No, I'm not." "Yes, you are." She shrugged again. "But it's no matter. You'll probably never see him again." "I'm going to his house today," Jenna blurted before she could stop herself. Casey's blue eyes grew round as saucers. " "But it's not what you think," Jenna added hastily. "Of course not." "It's not," Jenna insisted. "Whatever you say," Casey said mildly. "His aunt called last night and asked me to come to pick up my briefcase. So I'm going to pick up my briefcase." She set her lips together. "Nothing more. He probably won't even be there." Casey sobered, her eyes flicking back to the television. "If he is there, ask him about the girls." Seattle Detective Neil Davies came home from work, bypassed the piles of newspapers and dirty, sweaty laundry, and went straight to his kitchen for a beer. It wasn't even break-fast time, but somewhere in the world the sun was setting over the yardarm. That had been his old man's way of justifying alcohol at any hour of the day. He'd no sooner popped the top when the phone rang. He'd given up hoping it would be Tracey. She'd gotten on with her life. He gave a mirthless chuckle. He guessed he couldn't blame her. It was hard for a woman to live with a man haunted by the ghosts of four dead teenaged girls. "Yeah?" he barked into the phone. "It's Barrow." His old partner from the West Precinct. "Turn on CNN." Immediately Neil grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. "Do you see?" Barrow asked tersely. "Sshh," Neil hissed and blindly set the untouched beer on the counter. It was a small town in North Carolina. Two girls missing from their beds. Cheerleaders. One found butchered in a clearing, her head shaved. Terrified parents. Mystified police. He felt a strange settling in his gut, a hum sizzling along his skin. "It's him." Neil was sure of it. "William Parker." "Maybe," said Barrow, guarded as usual. "You thought the guy in California was him and the guy in New York, too. So what are you going to do?" "I'm going to Pineville, North Carolina. Wherever that is." "Outside Raleigh," Barrow said. "And once you've arrived there, what will you do?" "I don't know," Neil answered grimly. "Maybe get rid of some ghosts. Maybe get on with my life. I'd settle for a decent night's sleep." Barrow sighed. "You know you can call me if you need me." Neil almost smiled. "I know." "Incompetent bastards," he muttered, turning away from the CNN report to examine his most recent photographic handiwork. Having his own darkroom really gave him the freedom to experiment with color and angle and lighting. Lorraine's body looked even more gruesome in black and white. But, he was still partial to color. All that blood… It just didn't get justice in black and white. "And this was the scene at the headquarters of North Carolina's State Bureau of Investigation early this morning," said the reporter, a woman with short, flippy hair. He frowned. He hated short, flippy hair. Women should have long hair. He pulled out his most recent photo of But then, intelligent men weren't subject to the same rules that bound other men. It was fact. "We will confirm we have a second girl reported missing." He jerked his eyes up from his photographs and scowled at the talking face on the screen. Special Agent Steven Thatcher, read the caption below the man's face. Special agent. Hah. Thatcher knew nothing He tilted his head, staring at the flickering visage of Special Agent Steven Thatcher. "So you think you're hot stuff, huh, The question was-what was the most effective means to up the ante? The Volvo wasn't in the driveway, so Steven was probably still out in the field. Or the car could be in the garage and he could be inside. Her heart fluttered and she cursed it. It didn't matter if he was here or not. She'd only be staying for a minute. Just long enough to get her briefcase. She looked the house up and down as she calmly walked up the sidewalk even though the butterflies were doing the polka in her stomach. It was a nice house, really nice. Jenna was a little surprised how nice. She hadn't realized special agents of the SBI made such a good living. It was much nicer than the house in which she'd grown up, a place where loud voices and negativity were the rule. A place she rarely thought about. She rang the bell and the door was opened by a woman with gray hair. "Come in, Dr. Marshall," she wercomed and yanked Jenna inside where a tantalizing aroma tormented her nose. "Uh, thank you." Jenna looked around, noting the darkened room off to the right, a study perhaps. Jenna strained her peripheral vision to spy inside, but the room appeared empty. Mentally cursing Casey and berating her own suggestibility, she yanked her gaze back to the woman. "Let me take your coat," Miss Barnett was saying and Jenna shook her head. "No, really, I can't stay. I'll just get my briefcase and be out of your hair." "It's all right," said a young boy, walking down the stairs. Jenna looked up to find a younger version of Steven coming toward her. "Aunt Helen won't have all that hair much longer anyway." He came to stand next to his aunt and tugged at her gray hair. "Tsetse flies, you know." Jenna shook her head again, this time a little wary. "I'm afraid I don't understand." "Neither does Matthew," Miss Barnett said and glared up at him. "This is Brad's younger brother, Matt." She shooed him. "Go… do something useful." "I could test the turkey," Matt said helpfully. He shot Jenna an engaging grin that had her smiling back. "We wouldn't want to serve an underdone turkey. Family might get worms." Jenna coughed, trying to hold back a laugh. "It's done, Matthew," Miss Barnett said, her tone lowering. "The button popped." "Then I could take Dr. Marshall's coat." "No, I'm just leaving." Matt had her jacket off her shoulders before she could blink twice. "Don't be silly. I'd like to get to know Brad's teacher and I'm sure my aunt would as well. Don't you, Aunt Helen?" Jenna was certain she saw the older woman's lips twitch. "Absolutely." She looked down at Jenna's socked foot. "I heard you took a spill on Friday." "Just a little one. I'll be fine in a few days. Is Brad here?" Miss Barnett frowned and glanced over her shoulder up Jenna grimaced. "Oh." "He's grounded for life," Matt said cheerfully and Jenna had to truly fight to keep her sober grimace from becoming a snicker. It really wasn't funny, Brad's troubles, but obviously there was sibling rivalry at play. Jenna couldn't help but feel at ease with the two that seemed a bit eccentric. Like the Llewellyns. Except, judging from the wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen, the Thatchers had better food. Miss Barnett steered her toward the living room. "Come and sit, Dr. Marshall." And before Jenna could refuse again, she was seated on a high-backed sofa with Miss Barnett at her side and a small ottoman under her left foot. "For circulation," Matt said and Jenna laughed. "Can I get you some tea, Dr. Marshall?" Miss Barnett inserted. "Or cola?" "No, ma'am, I really can't stay." "Nonsense," Miss Barnett insisted. "Dr. Marshall, may I call you Jenna?" Jenna blinked. "Yes, of course." The older lady beamed. "Good, good." She patted Jenna's hand. "And you can call me Helen. I have a huge turkey in the oven. Wouldn't you like to stay for dinner?" Turkey. After last night's sloppy joes a home-cooked turkey dinner sounded just short of heavenly. And her stomach was growling. And if she stayed longer Steven just might come home and she could see him one last time. But she was Brad's teacher. Having dinner at his house could be considered playing favorites. It might even be against the rules. She'd run it by Lucas in the morning. "I'm sorry, Helen. I'd love to, I really would, but I really need to go." She heard a canine whine from a room beyond the kitchen and remembered poor Jim still out in Casey's truck. "I have my dog out in the truck. He really shouldn't stay alone long." "Well, bring him in," Helen said brightly. "He can play with Cindy Lou." Jenna raised a brow. "Cindy Lou? What kind of dog is she? A poodle?" "I wish," Helen muttered. "No, she's an Old English and she's very friendly. I'm sure Matthew wouldn't mind getting your dog from your truck." She stood up and dusted her palms on her slacks. "Now I simply will not take no for an answer. My nephew must have inconvenienced you this weekend by knocking you down and hurting your ankle. The least we can do is feed you." The turkey did smell delightful. And she realized she really wanted to stay. "Okay, but I'll get Jim from the truck. He does better with strangers when he's been properly introduced." Jenna led Jim in through the Thatchers' front door and was greeted by a small boy with a head of carrot red hair and more freckles than his round cheeks could handle. Jenna stopped and Jim automatically halted at her side. "Hello, I'm Jenna and your aunt asked me to dinner." The little boy looked up, his eyes carefully blank, and she remembered the newspaper accounts of the abduction of Brad's youngest brother the spring before. This would be the child, she thought, and her heart squeezed with compassion at what he'd gone through. And was still going through, if his blank eyes were any indication. Jenna made herself smile. "And you must be Nicky." Nicky stared at her warily for so long that Jenna felt her face begin to twitch. Then he dropped his eyes to Jim. "Is that your dog?" Jenna knelt on one knee and put her arm around Jim. Now she was at eye level with Nicky. "His name is Jim. Do you want to pet him?" Nicky shuffled forward and tentatively put out his hand. "He looks like a wolf." "He's a German shepherd and big for his age." Jenna bent down and locked eyes with Jim, earning her a lick on her nose. '"I can see where you might think he's a wolf, but he's really a baby." Nicky softly stroked Jim's head. "How old is he?" "Almost two." She leaned closer and dropped her voice. "You want to know a secret?" Nicky nodded, too seriously for a little boy, and Jenna's heart clenched again. "Jim has a brother named Jean-Luc. They're identical twins." Nicky's brown eyes widened. "Really?" "Really." She glanced up to see Helen watching with intense interest. Apparently Nicky's conversation was not an everyday occurrence. The thought made her feel a little warmer inside. "Do you have a dog?" Nicky nodded, visibly relaxing a bit. "Her name is Cindy Lou. I got to name her." Jenna raised her brows. "Let me guess. Cindy Lou Who who was not quite two?" Nicky nodded again, still way too solemn for a small boy. He couldn't be more than seven. " Nicky scratched behind Jim's ears. "My daddy doesn't like Cindy Lou very much." Jenna blinked, startled. Steven had seemed to like her dogs a great deal. "Why not?" Nicky's mouth wobbled uncertainly, then one corner lifted in an almost smile. "She likes to chew things. Usually Daddy's things. Last week she chewed two shoes." "And I bet they weren't matching shoes either." Nicky's mouth curved up. "Nope. One sneaker and one church shoe." Jenna chuckled. "Well, I guess that would explain your daddy's feelings, huh? I'd have a problem with Jim if he destroyed two pairs of my shoes." Nicky reached out and tugged Jim's tunic. "Why does he wear this?" "Jim's a therapy dog. He and I go to visit sick people and Jim helps them feel better." Nicky's red brows scrunched together. "How can a dog make sick people better?" Jenna watched him scratching Jim's ears and remembering his ordeal, carefully considered her answer. "Have you ever been afraid, Nicky?" Nicky's hand went still on Jim's head. Nicky stood frozen and somehow sensing the importance, Jim didn't move a muscle. Jenna quietly drew a breath. "Well, sometimes sick people are afraid. They're afraid because maybe they hurt, or maybe the doctor is about to poke them with needles. When they pat Jim's head, it helps them forget about being afraid for a little while. And that makes them feel better." After what seemed like an eternity, Nicky began scratching Jim's head again. "Then he must be a very nice dog." Jenna let out the breath she held. "He is. Would you mind if I let him off his lead?" Nicky shook his head. "No, let him go. I'll take him to meet Cindy Lou." Jenna stood up, watching Jim obediently follow Nicky through the kitchen. She turned to find Helen's eyes glistening and Matt's teasing expression replaced with a seriousness that approached Nicky's. This entire family was hurting, she realized. She cleared her throat, forcing emotion back down. "Jim's well trained. He won't hurt Nicky." Helen blinked, then brushed the moisture from her face without shame. "I don't doubt that, Jenna." Her eyes brightened. "Come to the kitchen and tell me about therapy dogs while I carve the turkey." She threw a meaningful glance toward Matt. "I will be Matt grinned, shaking off his seriousness. "But I'm very fast." Helen shrugged. "As long as you don't feel you need those fingers. Come along, Jenna." "Wait." Jenna stopped in her tracks and looked up the stairs. Brad stood at the top, his hand massaging the back of his neck, his face grizzled with at least two days' beard. He descended the stairs with a shuffling step and came to a stop in front of her. "Dr. Marshall." Jenna studied him up close, seeing the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. "Brad." she said softly. "I was hoping I'd see you. I left my briefcase in your dad's car Friday when he gave me a ride home after school." He looked down at her feet, then back up, his eyes alert and discerning despite the dark circles. "What happened to your car?" Jenna lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Somebody vandalized it. Slashed the tires." His brown eyes flashed and his jaw hardened. "Rudy Lutz. Lousy scum." She shrugged again. "Maybe. But it's already fixed." She smiled at him, as gently as she could. "How are you, Brad? I missed you in class on Friday." He looked away. "I couldn't stay." His voice was harsh with what sounded like self-rebuke and Jenna's heart softened. She squeezed his shoulder. "We can talk about it on Monday." Brad turned his head in the direction Nicky had gone. "I heard you talk to my brother." "He's a cute little boy." "Yeah." Brad turned back and met her eyes directly and again Jenna felt his misery, a palpable pressure against her heart. "He doesn't talk often. Thank you." Jenna swallowed, wishing she could take both boys into her arms for a hug. "Hey, I heard there was turkey for dinner. Are you as hungry as I am?" Brad looked back to the kitchen where Nicky was earnestly introducing Jim to an enormous gray ball of fluff. No hint of a smile touched his lips. "I could eat." Jenna made her own lips curve even though she felt more like crying. "Then let's go before Matt 'tastes' all the white meat." |
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