But Emma wasn’t confiding in Deirdre anymore. She’d run off to Drew, her emotions raging, feeling hurt and angry and outcast. What might Deirdre’s little girl do to feel like she belonged?
Images flashed through Deirdre’s memory, steamed up car windows, the crushing weight of a boy on top of her, the slicing pain as he—
No!
Cade…she’d call Cade…he’d find Emma. But Cade was a whole sky away in Montana, and Emma had taken the van, leaving Deirdre stranded.
She had to get help. Call someone. She was scared…so scared. And yet, Staci’s father’s jibe and Drew’s mother’s words chilled Deirdre…. If word got out that Emma had gone missing…
Deirdre had to protect her daughter. She couldn’t wait here, helpless, until Emma showed up. If Emma and Drew were at Sullivan’s Point that might be too late.
Then who? Who could she call?
Stone.
The private investigator’s face rose in Deirdre’s mind, those shrewd gray eyes that missed nothing, his inner strength, his humor. His hands, so warm when he touched her. God, she needed someone to lean on just a little.
Deirdre dug through her purse for the page she’d ripped from the phone book weeks ago and dialed the P.I.’s number. Jake answered, sounding awake.
“Stone here.”
“J-Jake?”
“Deirdre?” She heard a rustle, imagined Stone sitting up in bed. “What’s the matter?” She almost cried at the sound of his voice, so strong, so sure.
“It’s Emma. She’s gone. Took the car and…and sneaked out. We’ve been having terrible fights. Her bed’s empty and so is Romeo’s. I’m so scared.”
“Sit tight. I’m on my way.” The phone clicked, went dead.
Numbly Deirdre pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and shoved her feet into tennis shoes. She couldn’t stay in the house. She walked outside into the dark of the night to wait for Jake alone.
Please God, let Emma be all right, please God please God, please…. She gazed out into the blackness, wondering if Emma was crying. She started running down the driveway, out onto the road, remembering when she’d cried and nobody heard.
JAKE DROVE THE CAR like he’d stolen it, racing along the roads he’d imagined crossing for so long, retracing the path to Deirdre’s house.
She needed him.
He tried not to be glad, even a little. The woman was scared to death, her daughter God knew where in this vast, black night.
A picture of Emma rose up in his mind, the girl so fresh and innocent, so all-fired sure she could handle anything life threw at her.
But Emma didn’t know the creeps who owned the streets this time of night. Jake Stone did.
He’d seen how nights could gobble up a kid. Some clueless teenager who’d cut loose from their parents, thinking it was fun. Kids whose parties had ended up with them dead on a highway—or worse.
Crazies came out at night in any town, and drunks. They owned the shadows where light couldn’t reach. Maybe this wasn’t St. Louis or Chicago. Whitewater was a sleepy little town. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always enough to keep a kid safe.
“Damn it, Deirdre, why didn’t you pick up the damned phone when I called?” Stone grumbled. “Maybe I could have defused things before you and Emma drove straight off a cliff.”
Right, Stone. He grimaced. Mr. Family with all the right answers.
Maybe he’d have handled things all wrong, but at least Deirdre wouldn’t have been shouldering this mess alone.
But she wanted him now. Needed him. She was going to let him help her. God, she’d sounded so damned afraid.
Jake veered onto Jubilee Point, slammed on the breaks as a woman popped into view. Hell, he’d almost hit…Deirdre! She ran to the passenger side, climbed in. She looked like holy hell. Locks of her rich dark hair stuck out in windblown disarray, tousled from running, her eyes huge in her delicate face, dark circles smudging high cheekbones. Her features too pale, too sharp seemed as if bone and raw nerves lay too close to the surface.
“You idiot!” Jake snapped. “Running down the middle of the street! I could have hit you!”
“Don’t…don’t yell. I couldn’t just…just stand there…I kept thinking…”
Whoa, baby! She flung herself against him. Held on hard. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her temple, her face. “Easy, there. We’re gonna find her. Emma’s gonna be fine. Grounded for life, but fine.”
“You don’t know that! What can happen! They talked about safe sex! My God, Jake, like…like they expected…”
“Who talked about safe sex?”
“Romeo’s parents, when I called them. But the boy doesn’t—doesn’t ever pay. Not like the girl…”
Stone stroked her hair. “I know you’re scared, but Emma’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“She’s brain-dead! Thinks she’s in love! She took the van and sneaked off, and Emma would never have done that before. Does that sound like she’s got any head at all on her shoulders?”
Damn, Jake wasn’t going to laugh. Deirdre meant it. She was terrified. Romeo might as well have been Ted Bundy, crazy scared as Deirdre was. What the hell was up with that? Sure, Deirdre didn’t want Emma knocked up. That was easy to understand. But shouldn’t that safe-sex thing calm her down at least a little?
“Come on, Deirdre, think. You’ve lived here your whole life. Where do kids go around here? Hotels? Make-out spots? Anywhere they might go to be alone?”
“There’s a Super 8 out on the highway and—and…Sullivan’s Point.” Her voice caught. Jake’s brows crashed together. He wished like hell he could see her face.
“Sullivan’s Point?”
“Up in the bluffs, near the river. It’s this deserted…oh, God. Didn’t some serial killers murder kids at a place like that last year?”
From sex to serial killers in ten seconds. Yeah, the lady was losing it.
“Tell me how to get there.”
Deirdre gave directions, deadly silent as Jake broke every speed limit posted. It seemed like an eternity before they took the faded tire tracks uphill, having to all but crawl along because of the ruts.
“Somebody’s been here recently,” Stone said. “The grass is crushed from tires.”
“Yes. I…I see.”
Stone squinted, trying to penetrate beyond the headlight beams, hoping like hell the noise of their approach would give the kids time to put themselves back together before Deirdre got out of the car. Stone didn’t even want to think about the price Deirdre would exact from Drew Lawson for any piece of Emma’s clothing the kid might have taken off.
Hell, he thought, suddenly grim. He’d been a horny teenager himself once. Had his share of excitement in back seats. But he wasn’t feeling any too understanding at the moment where Drew Lawson was concerned. That is, if the kid was taking advantage—
The beams of light bounced, landed on Deirdre’s van. Windows steamed up so thickly it would be a miracle if Emma or Drew came up for air long enough to get the heads-up that they had company.
Stone bopped the horn with the heel of his hand. Deirdre nearly went through the roof. She swung the door open and was scrambling out before he’d even hit the brakes. Blast the woman, what was she trying to do? Get herself killed?
The light beamed across her face. Stone reassessed his position. No, the woman was plain old bent on murder.
She stormed to the car, yanked the door. Emma came tumbling out, Drew on top of her. Emma shrieked and Stone noticed Drew rolling to take the brunt of the fall himself. It was a helluva long way down. Stone hoped the ground was soft when they hit.
At least nobody had broken a leg, because Drew scrambled to his feet. He helped Emma up and drew her protectively into his arms, glaring and defiant.
Oookay, Stone reasoned. They’d been kissing plenty—lips all red and puffy. Clothes mussed up, but none missing. Shirts and jeans all accounted for. Of course, no way to tell if her bra was still where it belonged. But it looked like they’d got
ten up here before the PG-rating guys would have faded the picture to black.
“Mom.” Emma’s voice cracked.
“Get in the truck,” Deirdre said so sternly Stone almost climbed in himself.
“Mrs. McDaniel, nothing…nothing happened,” Drew insisted. “Emma was upset. We were just talking.”
“That’s why her blouse is buttoned wrong?” Deirdre asked, glaring so hard at the kid he should’ve been a pile of ash.
“Mom, I—That wasn’t Drew’s fault. It was mine.”
“I’m the one who taught you to start at the bottom, one button to each hole until you got to the top. Remember? I think you were about three.”
“I’m not a baby! If you hadn’t been so hateful—”
“You think I was hateful before, missy? You’re grounded until you’re thirty. And maybe you should hand the part of Juliet off to the understudy. Somebody who can tell the difference between fiction and real life!”
“No! You…you wouldn’t dare! Hand Juliet over to Brandi?”
“Since you got cast you started sneaking out of the house, making out with boys in public places. You won’t even talk to me! Damn it, Emma, I’m trying…”
“Oh, yeah. You’re trying. To lie. To keep things from me. Like him!” Emma pointed to Jake. Whatever crush the kid had had on him was definitely over. She looked at him as if he’d burned down Broadway.
“Emma, Mr. Stone—”
“Oh, yeah. Mr. Stone. Mr. Stick-his-nose-in-everybody-else’s-business Stone. I know all about him now.”
Deirdre sucked in a breath as if she’d taken a punch.
“He’s the guy who blew Uncle Cade’s wedding out of the water when I was ten. He’s a private investigator you hired to ruin my life! You’re a liar and I can never trust you again! So don’t you dare look all sad and say, ‘Emma sneaked out and I can’t trust her. Emma didn’t do what I told her, so she’s a brat.’ And if you’re thinking about locking me in my room you’d better board up the windows, because I swear, I’ll climb out!”
Deirdre stared at her daughter, the color draining from her face. Jake could see Deirdre shaking. “My God, Emma—”
“Grandpa knows, too. We all know.”
Jake stepped between them, held up his hand. What he wouldn’t give for a boxing ring with two separate corners. “Hold on, there. Both of you. Take a few deep breaths before you say something you’re going to regret.”
Hell, he wondered, was there anything left to say?
“I have something to say,” Drew said, sounding remarkably levelheaded for a guy who’d just had Mommie Dearest descend on him, wanting his balls on a platter.
“I know this looks bad—”
“You think?” Deirdre demanded, incredulous.
“I want you to know I love Emma.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Deirdre snapped in disgust.
“We were…well, making out. Kissing and…stuff.”
Stuff like rearranging those buttons on Emma’s blouse, Stone thought.
“But I’d never…never hurt her.”
“So you brought my daughter up here to Sullivan’s Point so you could talk? Give me a break.”
“You sure haven’t been talking to her!” Drew accused.
Stone grabbed Deirdre by the arm, held on tight. He figured if she got her hands on the kid it would be manslaughter—unless she got a jury full of parents of teenage girls. Then no question, they’d figure ol’ Drew had it coming.
“My relationship with my daughter is none of your business. I’ve loved her for sixteen years, mister. A few weeks of infatuation doesn’t hold a candle to—”
“If you love Emma you should have known better than to lie to her. She’s freaked about it, and I don’t blame her. After you dumped her for nine months—”
Deirdre’s other hand flashed out, would have connected hard with Drew’s face if Stone’s reflexes hadn’t been so good. He yanked her out of reach just in time.
Emma screamed, went ice-white. “I don’t even know you anymore! I want—want Uncle Cade. I never should have told him I…I wanted to try…”
“Try what?” Deirdre sounded half-dead.
“You lie and you sneak and you…you…Aunt Finn wouldn’t have left me! Not ever! She would have told me the truth about this jerk!”
Emma pointed at Stone. Aw, hell. Stone figured the kid was right. He could see from Deirdre’s face regrets racing through her head. Finn McDaniel had probably hammered on Deirdre plenty to tell the kid what was up. That didn’t mean Finn loved Emma more. It just meant Deirdre had more to lose.
“Why are you being so hateful?”
“I’m trying to keep you from ruining your life. Emma, you’re so close to drama school, everything you always said you wanted.”
“And you know all about dumping your dreams, right Mom? Because you had to stop singing because of me.”
“Emma—”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Since you came back to Whitewater, I haven’t heard you sing a note. Not even in the shower. You used to sing all the time.”
“The price was too high. It cost me nearly a year of your life.”
“Yeah, well, you might have asked me what I missed most when you were gone. Talking I could do with anybody. But when you sang songs to put me to sleep…that was just you and me.”
Deirdre’s voice caught, thick. “I thought you hated it. If I’d been you, I would have—”
“But you’re not me!”
“I had to choose between the music I loved and the person I love most in the world. You deserve better than that, Emma.”
Stone looked down into Deirdre’s face, asked her softly, “And what did you deserve?”
“Exactly what I got,” Deirdre said dully.
“What about Grandpa?” Emma challenged. “Does he deserve to have his whole life ripped up? He’s sick, Mom. And old. All these years you claimed it didn’t matter who my father is. And I believed you. Now you’re breaking the Captain’s heart, looking for some stranger! Fine. As soon as I’m old enough, I’m going to find my dad. Then you can see how it feels.”
Stone could feel that silver bullet hit Deirdre square in the heart. Deirdre stammered. “Emma, don’t be…”
“Don’t be what? Stupid, like you’re being? Selfish? Maybe I don’t have enough money to pay some snoop to dig stuff up now, but you can’t stonewall me forever, Mom. I wonder if my father has hair like mine? Does he? Is he some guy running around town that I see all the time? Does he even know I exist?”
Deirdre staggered. Stone reached out to steady her. He expected more temper, raging, desperate attempts to reason. But Deirdre stood there, as if her daughter had ripped out her very soul.
“Emma, it’s complicated—”
“And your digging around in the past for your father isn’t? I never knew you were such a hypocrite. Why are you looking so weird if this ‘finding your father’ gig is no big deal?”
Stone glanced down at Deirdre, her face gray in the beams of his headlights, her eyes like wounds. Hell, she looked as if her knees would give out any moment. Or her spirit…hell, he’d never believe anything could have the power to break it. He wanted to hold her, knew he didn’t dare in front of Emma. At least not yet. He had to buy Deirdre time to pull herself out of whatever hellish chasm she was falling into.
For that, she needed a little time apart from her daughter.
“Kids, get in the van,” Stone ordered. “I’ll follow you back to March Winds, then I’ll take Drew home.”
He expected Deirdre to protest. She was too shattered even to argue. She slid into his passenger seat, silent.
Stone’s gut clenched. He’d seen Deirdre fighting mad, lashing out, hurt and vulnerable before. But speechless? The woman had a mouth on her that could break the sound barrier. What the devil was going on?
One thing he knew for certain. After he dropped Drew Lawson off, Stone was sure as hell going to find out.
CHAPTER 11
&
nbsp; EMMA STORMED INTO THE HOUSE, Deirdre in hot pursuit, neither McDaniel woman bothering to see if Jake and Drew had hit the road. The kitchen light was still blazing, forgotten when Deirdre had run outside in a bundle of nerves to meet Stone on the road. Deirdre clenched her hands in the fabric of her long T-shirt, hating that the man had seen her so vulnerable, not sure what to do with the rebellious young woman who’d replaced her beloved daughter. Deirdre wasn’t sure raking over everything right now was going to do any good. But she had to try something or go crazy.
“Emmaline Kate, you sit down at this table and we’re going to talk.”
Emma didn’t go into her regular “I’m in deep shit” dramatics. She just pulled out a chair and sat, her blouse gaping between the mismatched buttons, her eyes narrowed, glowering.
She’d wondered if she had her father’s hair? Now she looked so much like Adam that Deirdre felt like throwing up. Why hadn’t she noticed the similarities before? Had she blocked them out of her mind on purpose?
Deirdre sank down across from her daughter, feeling farther away from Emma than she had when she’d been singing eight hundred miles away. Deirdre swallowed hard, searching desperately for the right words, but Emma wasn’t waiting.
“I know what you’re going to say, Mom.”
Did she? Deirdre thought, peering into her daughter’s eyes. The kid must be some kind of mind reader, since Deirdre didn’t have a clue herself. But the claim did give Deirdre an out of sorts. “Okay, what am I going to say?”
“All that stuff about saving myself for the right guy, not letting myself get sucked into doing something reckless that can wreck up my life. That sex is a big deal and I’m not old enough to handle the responsibility.”
“That sounds about right.”
“You’ve told me all that stuff before, but you never even once asked how I felt about sex.”
That’s because I didn’t want you feeling anything about sex, period. “You always made it seem like you agreed with me.”