in New Orleans, but she couldn’t. Leah was a friend. Shelby, Leah and she had once been a tight threesome in high school. What if she was in trouble and needed her help? “Yes.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
The formal tone returned to his voice and bearing, and she grasped it like a life preserver. So long as he kept things professional, she would be able to help Leah—that was, if she could keep herself from remembering her and Sam’s past relationship.
She locked her office and trailed him to the parking lot at the side of the building. He headed for his black nondescript sedan.
“I’ll drive myself.” Jocelyn paused a few feet from her yellow T-bird.
Over the top of his vehicle he studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll follow you, since I’m not familiar with Loomis.”
When she pulled out onto Main Street, she noticed the sheriff coming out of the pawnshop with several plastic bags, probably full of evidence. Seeing them brought to mind the other child from her past—the one she hadn’t been able to save.
His hands tight on the steering wheel, Sam kept sight of the yellow Thunderbird a few yards in front of him. He’d known that Jocelyn had left New Orleans for a job in a Louisiana town north of the city, but he hadn’t been prepared to see her again today—and worse, needing to work with her.
Being with her brought back the memories of the last case they’d handled together. For several seconds the image of the little five-year-old boy’s body, bruised and beaten, and the horror on Jocelyn’s face at the sight flashed across his mind like a strobe light. Jocelyn’s reaction drew his own repulsion to the foreground. He’d almost quit his job.
He gripped the wheel until his hands ached. He hadn’t found the child in time, and that would haunt him for the rest of his life. It flashed in his mind alongside his own younger brother’s face the last time he’d seen him twenty-five years ago.
He shook his head to clear the disturbing images as Jocelyn turned into the driveway of an older two-story house with huge oaks dripping Spanish moss standing sentinel in front. Parking behind her, Sam shut down his thoughts of the past. He couldn’t let anything cloud his judgment while working the case. He’d concentrate on solving it soon and be gone from Loomis.
After joining Jocelyn on the porch, he leaned around her and pressed the bell. She kept her gaze trained forward, the silence between them taut. Her faint scent of vanilla tempted him with memories. The sight of her long blond hair, free from the usual clasp at her nape, billowing about her shoulders or the feel of her soft hand in his…
A click wrenched him back to the present. Relieved when the door opened to reveal a large man with dark features and a grim expression on his face, Sam pulled out his badge. “I’m Special Agent Pierce with the FBI. I’m here to look into your sister’s disappearance and wonder if we could have a word with you.”
“I’m glad someone is finally taking this seriously. I couldn’t get the sheriff to listen to me yesterday when I told him that Leah wouldn’t leave Sarah unless something bad had happened to her.” Clint stepped to the side to allow them into his house. “Come in. And hi, Jocelyn. I was just about to put Sarah down for a late nap. I’ll take care of that and then we can talk.”
“I thought Jocelyn could inter—talk with your niece.”
“Why? Sarah was here when Leah went missing.”
“But Sarah was at the apartment at the time of her father’s death.” Sam stuffed his badge back into his pocket.
“She’s only three. She can’t tell you anything!” Clint’s voice roughened as he shifted his gaze to something behind Sam.
Sam glanced back. A little girl with blond hair and sea-green almond-shaped eyes came out of a room and rocketed toward them. Holding a blanket and sucking her thumb, Sarah latched on to her uncle’s leg and buried her face against him, occasionally peeking up at Jocelyn.
“Clint, I’d love to put Sarah down for a nap. She’s stayed with me some when Leah needed a sitter. That way you and Sam can talk.”
“But, she—” Clint settled his hand on Sarah’s shoulder as though he would keep her glued to his side.
“Don’t worry. Sarah and I are good buddies.”
Clint stared at Jocelyn for a long moment, then nodded. “I know.”
She knelt next to the little girl and held out her hand. “Sarah, I’d love to see your room. Will you show me?”
The child clung to her uncle for a few more seconds, then walked over to Jocelyn. Jocelyn rose with Sarah in her arms. “Which way?”
Clutching her blanket, Leah’s daughter took her thumb out of her mouth and pointed toward the staircase.
Jocelyn left Sam alone with Clint, who watched his niece disappear up the stairs. Sam knew firsthand how traumatic it was when a family member went missing. That was why he was part of the Missing Persons Unit, although at times it was painful not to provide a happy ending to each case.
“Let’s go in here,” Clint said, gesturing toward his den, tension threaded through each word. “Leah and Sarah are all the family I have left. I’m glad my call to the mayor produced results because Sheriff Reed wasn’t doing anything.”
Sam folded his long length into a chair across from the couch and took out his notepad. “Tell me about the day Leah dropped off Sarah for you to watch her.”
Clint stared toward the entry hall as though Leah were still standing there with Sarah and he could erase the past thirty hours. “The last time I saw my sister, she was acting a little strange. She was fidgety and talking fast as though she was anxious or afraid of something. At the time I thought it was because of Earl’s suicide, but now I don’t know. I should have questioned my sister more before she left.”
“What did she say to you?”
Another long pause, then Clint swung his attention to Sam. “She said she had some business to take care of and wouldn’t be gone long. She was worried that Sarah had seen something when Earl killed himself. When she said the word business, she said it with such firmness. I got the feeling she was confirming something in her mind.”
“She didn’t say who she was meeting or what Sarah had seen?”
“No, and before I could ask, she kissed Sarah goodbye and thrust her into my arms, then hurried away.” Clint dragged his hand through his hair. “I thought at first she was just running late, but when she didn’t come back to pick up Sarah, I knew something was wrong. I’ve called her cell phone repeatedly, but it goes straight to voice mail.”
“What did you do next?”
“I called her friends, the hospital, highway patrol and the sheriff after putting Sarah down early last night. I didn’t want her to know what was going on.”
“There’s nothing else?”
Again he plowed his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished there was something else. A lead. A hint. Anything.”
Sam pulled a business card from his inside coat pocket. “If you remember anything else, please call me. That’s my cell number. I’m setting up an office at the sheriff’s station. I’ll be staying at the Loomis Hotel while working on this case.”
Clint flinched at the word case.
“I’ll find your sister,” Sam said. What he didn’t add was that when he found Leah, he couldn’t guarantee she would still be alive. But Sam would find her—one way or the other. He never wanted a family to go through what his had—what Sam still went through when he allowed himself to remember.
When Jocelyn entered Clint’s spare bedroom upstairs tucked under the eaves, she noticed the profusion of toys and items that had