Yeah, the completely missing phone was a puzzle piece slotting into an increasingly ugly picture in Clay’s mind. He just wished there weren’t so damn many missing pieces still.
A missing kid was what he really meant. Clay had seen Brianna Wilson’s first-grade school picture now, as well as a formal family portrait of the whole family taken just before Christmas. Bree, as Jane called her, was a doll, Clay hadn’t been able to help thinking, on her way to being a stunner. Her hair was the same chestnut-brown as Jane’s, highlighted with red, and wavy like hers, too. And, damn, but Clay did love Jane’s hair. Little Bree had just enough freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose to be cute. In both photos her untroubled grin showed missing front teeth. Unlike Jane’s, the kid’s eyes were a warm brown.
Clay was ashamed in retrospect at how closely he had studied that family photo, fascinated to see how the sisters resembled each other and yet...didn’t. He guessed most people would have said Melissa had gotten the looks, but nothing about her face stirred him. Yeah, she had finely sculpted cheekbones, a pouty mouth that made him wonder about collagen and a perfect arch of eyebrows shaped by a master hand, but she looked hard to him. As if she’d summoned that smile when the photographer said, “Cheese!” but didn’t really mean it.
Or maybe he was prejudiced because he liked everything about Jane’s looks, including her round, gentle face and curving forehead that was almost too high, the tiny dimple that formed in one cheek when she was trying to hide amusement, the pretty mouth, the eyebrows that—well, she was a girl, so she probably did some plucking now and again, but not often.
Jane would never believe him if he told her he’d been drawn to her face even before he’d noticed her generous breasts or well-rounded hips. She seemed convinced now that he’d never lifted his eyes above chest level.
Not relevant, he told himself for about the dozenth time today. This wasn’t about Jane. It especially wasn’t about Jane and him.
“Baldwin, I’m keeping you from leaving,” he said, slapping a hand on the hood of the car and pushed himself away from it.
Baldwin nodded and lowered himself behind the wheel, but didn’t immediately pull the door closed. “Lieutenant Vahalik says search and rescue was called off?”
“An hour ago. I take it she isn’t happy?”
“I think she’s mostly scared. Doesn’t matter that she’s a cop. This is her family.”
“Can’t blame her,” Clay agreed, lifted a hand and strode toward the hospital entrance.
He knew his way to the ICU. From well down the hall, he saw Jane alone in the small waiting area outside it. She was staring fixedly at the double doors that kept her out. It struck him that he’d never seen her so absolutely still before. Jane was too full of life to waste time sitting still.
Whether she heard his footsteps or not, she didn’t react. He had almost reached her when her head finally turned. He was shocked at the sight of her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her mane of curly hair slipping from its usual ponytail and, for one unguarded moment, he saw all her stress and fear before she managed to mostly blank her expression.
She rose to her feet in a single jerky motion. “Have you found—?” The answer must have been apparent on his face, because she dropped back down as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Oh, God.”
“I’m sorry.” He took the chair next to her and reached for her hand. It felt so small, too delicate to hold a heavy handgun, never mind to fire it. To kill.
Damn it. If he couldn’t get past thinking things like that— Oh, who was he kidding? He’d had his chance and blown it. And...did he want to change his thinking so drastically?
Yeah. For Jane, he did.
“Any word on your sister?” he asked.
Her eyes, puffy and desperate, never left his. Her hand held tight to his, too. “There’s no change. They’re letting Drew sit with her. Every so often he comes out to give me a report, or...or he takes a break and I go in. They’re calling it a coma now, Clay. They drilled a hole in her skull to relieve the pressure. The doctor isn’t saying what he thinks the prognosis is. Or else he told Drew, who is lying to me.”
“She’s your only family.”
“Her and the kids.” Her shoulders moved a little. “And Drew.”
“Damn, Jane.” He cleared his throat. “I wish you weren’t having to go through this.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked furiously, not letting them fall. “Shit happens, right? Who knows that better than we do?”
He couldn’t argue.
“Where’s Bree?”
The way she looked at him, as if he was capable of miracles, made his sinuses burn. Produce the kid and redeem himself.
He’d give damn near anything to be up to this particular miracle.
“I don’t like what I’m thinking,” he said gruffly. He couldn’t lie to her. Jane wasn’t most women. She was tough. He knew that. “Did Sergeant Baldwin tell you Melissa’s cell phone is missing?”
“He says it might have been destroyed.”
Clay’s thumb circled on the back of her hand. “Yeah. And we both know that’s not good.”
Her head bobbed. Either she hadn’t noticed they were still holding hands or she needed the contact too much to let go no matter how much she detested him.
“The phone at your sister’s place hasn’t rang once. Home phone numbers are on those lists handed out by the day camp and the school, so we know the odds are any of her friends’ parents would have it, not just Melissa’s cell number.
“We’ve got an Amber Alert up,” he told her. “That may or may not lead to FBI involvement. At this point, with no unexpected dents or scrapes on the vehicle, we don’t have any evidence to suggest your sister was forced off the road. It’s still entirely possible Brianna is with a friend, and has maybe spent the night before so the mom or dad figures Melissa had some crisis but will call tomorrow.”
Despite the fear in her eyes, a tiny hint of hope sparked. “It is possible, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He wished he believed it, but didn’t see how it would hurt if she did, at least for a little while.
“Okay.” She ducked her head suddenly, probably to hide tears. “Thank you.”
He bent over her and kissed the top of her head, letting himself inhale the scent that was uniquely Jane. For a moment she seemed to sway toward him, as if she was going to let herself lean, but then she squared her shoulders and straightened, tugging her hand free at the same time.
“You probably have things you need to be doing—”
“I wanted to talk to you some more, and then to your brother-in-law.”
She visibly armored up. “To me?” she said, polite but surprised.
“Yeah. You. You know your sister. You know your niece.”
A cautious nod.
“I expected Drew to have a better idea who his daughter’s best friends are.”
Tiny lines puckered that high forehead. “I think that’s because Bree’s two best friends are both gone. The summer hasn’t been a very good one for her.”
“Gone,” Clay echoed. It had to be a reflection of his job that he equated gone with dead.
“Moved. Well, Poppy’s family moved, and to Texas, no less, which means no visits. They’d been friends since preschool. And then Bree’s other best friend, Schuyler, was in a foster home, but Lissa said the courts finally terminated the mother’s parental rights and they’re trying Schuyler in a potential adoptive