Debra Webb

Cries in the Night


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      Chapter Four

      Ryan sat on the side of the bed and stared at the telephone, waiting for the minutes to tick off. Bill would call Mel this morning and explain the latest turn of events. Ryan had asked him not to mention the picture until after he had interviewed Rita Grider, the friend who identified the child’s body. He didn’t want to raise additional hope that might not pan out.

      Mel would be mad as hell when she found out he’d hidden any aspect of the case from her, but it was necessary. Not only would it prevent further hurt if things didn’t turn out the right way, but it would avoid any additional distraction. Keeping her focused was difficult enough without adding another layer of false hope.

      He watched as the digital clock on the bedside table next to the telephone clicked off one more minute, 7:29 a.m. He’d been up all night, hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Staying put until this morning had been almost more than he could manage. He’d wanted to view the body of the funeral home attendant, Garland Hanes. He’d wanted to scour every square inch of the scene where he’d been found. But somebody had screwed up and gone through the steps at the scene, including moving the body, before realizing the victim was tied to this case. Bill hadn’t gotten the call until after the body was already at the morgue. Taking all that into consideration going directly to the scene in the dark and rain hadn’t made much sense.

      It hadn’t, however, kept Ryan from taking that run he’d decided upon before Bill’s visit. He’d run until he’d exhausted himself, thrown his damp clothes to the bathroom floor and stood under a long, hot shower. Despite the depletion of adrenaline he still hadn’t been able to sleep.

      Now he only waited to make the one call necessary to his continued participation in this case. Afterward, he had one stop to make before rendezvousing with Bill at the scene where Hanes’s body had been discovered by two teenagers. The clock’s digital readout blinked to 7:30.

      Victoria Colby was almost always in her office by 7:30, he hoped today would prove no different. He punched in the proper series of numbers and waited through the first ring.

      “The Colby Agency.”

      Mildred. “Good morning, Mildred, this is Ryan Braxton.” Victoria’s loyal secretary was the first to arrive and the last to leave every day that the agency doors opened.

      “Ryan, how are things in Memphis? You know I’ve always wanted to visit Graceland.”

      He would never have taken Mildred for an Elvis fan, but, hey, she could fool the best CIA interrogator if she so chose. “Things are complicated,” he offered. “This case looks like it might take a while and…” He hesitated, knowing this was the point of no return. “I’ve decided to stay on and see it through.”

      “I understand,” she said knowingly. “I’ll put you through to Victoria.”

      There were no secrets kept from Mildred. She had a handle on everyone and everything that involved the agency.

      “Ryan, it’s good to hear from you. Have you learned anything new?”

      The sound of Victoria’s voice proved oddly calming. He couldn’t say for sure precisely what it was, maybe the fact that she had believed in him when he’d felt certain total burnout loomed just around the corner. Or perhaps it was merely because she somehow seemed to sympathize with what had made him have to walk away from his past. Whatever the case, Victoria understood.

      “The funeral home attendant’s body was found last night.” Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face, only then realizing that he hadn’t shaved. He frowned, wondering how he could forget something he’d done every day since his junior year in high school. “There was a photograph of—the child—which would indicate she was alive at the time it was taken.”

      Victoria paused, then said, “Can you verify that assumption?”

      “We’re gonna try.”

      Another pause. “I see.” The sound of leather shifting crinkled across the line as she apparently reclined fully into her high-back executive’s chair. Ryan had watched her do that dozens of times as she’d considered the ramifications of whatever she’d just been told. “You’ve decided to participate in the case, then?”

      He drew in a heavy breath and released it slowly before responding. She had to know how difficult a decision this was for him. “It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t just walk away…she needs me.”

      “You’re doing the right thing. We can get by without you for a while. Research will certainly miss your eye for detail, but we’ll manage.” She didn’t have to say, but he knew she understood that the she he used referred to Mel as much as it did the missing child.

      When he’d initially applied to the agency, Victoria had offered him the position of investigator, but he’d declined. The idea of dealing with real people no longer appealed to him. He much preferred working with facts and hypothesized scenarios. He’d had enough of investigative work for two lifetimes. But he had to do this one last thing…he had to do it for Mel. And the kid.

      “I’ll keep you up to speed on my progress if you’d like, though this isn’t an official Colby Agency case.” He wasn’t sure of proper protocol under the circumstances. He would be working under the Bureau’s umbrella.

      “I’d like that very much,” she said without hesitation. This time there was something different in her voice, something besides the usual confidence and determination.

      Another frown inched its way across Ryan’s brow. He had the distinct feeling that Victoria was holding something back. Before he could pursue the thought, she spoke again.

      “What are the chances you’ll find this child… alive?”

      There was a definite quality of uncertainty in her tone now. He considered her question. It was the same one he’d been asked a thousand times before in his old life at the Bureau. His answer was always the same. “Slim to none.” The statement was blunt and cold, as he’d intended it. The worst thing a man in his position could do was engender false hope. He’d seen others do it, only to watch the families of victims fall apart later when things turned out badly. He never went that route.

      “How is Miss Jackson holding up?”

      It wasn’t until that moment when he heard Victoria say Miss Jackson that two things struck Ryan. Why was Mel still single? And why did her child carry her surname? Why not the father’s? Mel was too careful to, without due consideration, get involved with a guy on that level. She never acted before she analyzed the situation. That’s why she hadn’t become Mrs. Ryan Braxton two years ago. She’d considered what he offered, assessed the data and concluded that it wasn’t enough. How had she managed to end up a single parent?

      “As well as can be expected,” he said in answer to Victoria’s question. “This is the worst thing that can happen to any parent. There’s no way to accurately describe the sheer torment she’ll endure.” He closed his eyes and wished for one long moment that he could make it go away. No matter that she’d obviously run into another man’s arms when she left him, she was still Mel. The woman he’d loved…the woman he’d lost.

      “Don’t hesitate to call if this agency can do anything at all to help.”

      Again he heard the vulnerability in the usually strong woman. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

      When the call ended, Ryan was sure of one thing. Victoria Colby understood this situation a little too well. He didn’t know how or why, but in one capacity or another she had been in this very situation. The Colby Agency had worked a number of cases involving missing children…or maybe it was more personal. Maybe he’d look into that theory.

      Then again, if she wanted him to know her personal business she would tell him. The best thing he could do was keep his mind on the matter at hand.

      His own entirely too-personal business.

      VICTORIA