Deeply, Desperately

  His hands circled around my waist and swept upward, stopping just short of my breasts. Down they went, only to swing up again to stop short.

  I let out a deep breath. “Why?”

  Down, up.

  Tease, tempt.

  I leaned back. His lips were hot on my neck as he kissed little delicious pecks from my shoulder to just under my ear.

  I could feel his heat, his hardness pulsing against my lower back. As much as I wanted to flip over and have my way with him, I was enjoying what we were doing, this give-and-take.

  “When I was in the hospital room,” he said, his hands going down and up, “I realized there wasn’t a place I’d rather be than with you.”

  He moved from behind me, keeping his arms around me as he lowered me onto the bed. Rolling next to me, he propped himself on an elbow and looked down.

  In his eyes there was a question.

  Yes or no?

  Do we finally give in to what was, frankly, inevitable, or do we keep on waiting? Torturing ourselves while trying to figure out how we felt about each other and if it was strong enough to withstand curses and exes and anything the Fates threw in for good measure.

  I’d had enough torture. I rose up on my elbows and kissed him. We fell back onto the bed, earning a “rreow” from Grendel. I took it as encouragement rather than what it probably was—crankiness that we’d disturbed him.

  My hands dove into Sean’s hair. It was still slightly damp from his shower. He tore his mouth from mine, leaving me wanting, and dragged his lips down my neck, over my collarbone. He tugged down my tank top, and his lips seared a path downward.

  I dropped my hands, let my fingertips roam, down his back, over each bump of his spine. I dragged up the edge of his boxer briefs and I felt a little whoosh of air as he exhaled.

  “I’m thinking,” I said, “that we have too many clothes on.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Ms. Valentine.”

  He stood and, before I could blink, stripped.

  A knock sounded. “Sorry,” Em said, “but I need to use the washroom.”

  Sean scrambled for cover as the door opened. Em had her eyes covered with one hand and was blindly feeling around with the other.

  “I’m not looking,” she said unnecessarily.

  Sean grabbed a pillow. As soon as the bathroom door closed, he dove for his underwear. I tossed him his shorts.

  “Sorry!” Em said again. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  I held in a groan. “Nope,” I lied.

  Sean slipped in between the covers. I crawled in next to him. When I glanced his way, he whispered, “I should have known something would stop us.”

  “It’s just a delay,” I said.

  “You think so?”

  “Of course.”

  “What have you been telling me about curses?”

  “Who believes in curses?” I scoffed, wishing I didn’t.

  The bathroom door squeaked open. “Is it okay to look?” Em asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Em stepped into the room, took one look at us cozied up in bed, and burst into tears.

  As I jumped up to comfort her, I could have sworn I heard Sean mumble, “I told you so.”

  19

  Jimmy Jasteziak lived three blocks from Shannon O’Meara’s rundown duplex in a large subdivision of cookie-cutter Colonials. The teens were swaying on a porch swing as Sean and I pulled into the driveway.

  Both of us had been quiet on the long drive up here, either too sleep-or sex-deprived to chat.

  I’d been up with Em until the early hours of the morning, trying to comfort her as best I could. When I finally climbed back into bed, Sean was fast asleep.

  A brisk breeze chilled the already frosty air. I turned up the collar on my coat and wished I’d grabbed a scarf on my way out the door today.

  Em was still sleeping when we left, but I knew she planned to go home and have a long heart-to-heart with Joseph.

  Jimmy rose and shook our hands (I didn’t see anything) as we stepped onto the porch. Tall and lanky, he looked to be late teens. He still leaned toward a tendency for acne, and had yet to need a good shave, but would one day be a looker, with his piercing blue eyes and easy smile.

  Shannon was obviously smitten, never taking her adoring gaze from him.

  I had a feeling I looked at Sean the same way.

  He and I both sat in wicker chairs.

  “Thanks for meeting with us, Jimmy,” I said.

  “No problem. Shannon wouldn’t really say what this was about though.”

  I glanced at Shannon, who had a possessive grasp on her bracelet.

  “We need to talk to you about Shannon’s birthday present,” Sean said.

  “Her present?”

  “My bracelet,” Shannon said, holding her wrist aloft. The small silver heart swung back and forth, the inscribed S seeming to mock me.

  Color leached from Jimmy’s face. “Oh, ah, right. What about it?”

  “Where did you get it?” Sean asked, his voice firm.

  I looked at him, at his silky black hair, his concerned eyes. In an instant, I saw him as I did last night, naked and wanting me, and just like that I yearned for him so badly I could barely breathe.

  He looked my way, as if sensing a shift, and lifted an eyebrow. I didn’t dare look him in the eye. I tried to focus on the conversation.

  Jimmy’s cheek pouched as he held his breath. “Where?”

  Shannon laughed and elbowed him. “Go on, tell them.” She gave an exasperated sigh and leaned in to us. “He got it at Tiffany in Boston.”

  Jimmy stared at the porch planks.

  “Is that right, Jimmy?” I asked.

  “Why do you want to know?” he said.

  I glanced at Shannon. “Maybe we should take a walk around the block, Jimmy? Without Shannon?”

  “What? No!” she cried. “What’s going on? Jimmy, tell them where you got my bracelet.”

  His shoulders stiffened. “I still wanna know why they need to know.”

  Sean rubbed his hands together. White clouds puffed from his lips as he said, “The bracelet belongs to a missing woman. We’re trying to find her.”

  Shannon gasped. “No way! Jimmy bought this for me!”

  “Jimmy?” I pressed.

  “Missing?” he said.

  “For two years,” Sean answered. “Her name is Sarah.”

  Shannon jumped to her feet. Her ponytail slashed through the air. “You two have it all wrong. All wrong! Right, Jimmy?”

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Jimmy!”

  “Well, I—”

  Her eyes widened. “You didn’t get this at Tiffany?” she asked, shaking her wrist. The heart bobbed accusingly.

  Wincing, he shook his head.

  “You lied to me?”

  “Sorry, Shannon, but I—”

  She painstakingly unlatched the bracelet and tossed it at him. Storming off the porch, she didn’t look back.

  “Shannon!” Jimmy shouted.

  Acting as if she didn’t hear him, she kept going.

  “Look what you did,” he said to us.

  Sean said, “Us? You’re the one who lied to her.”

  Thick eyebrows dipped in anger as he watched Shannon turn a corner and disappear.

  “Give her time,” I said.

  “I need to go after her. Are you two done here?” he asked.

  “Where did you get the bracelet?” Sean asked.

  “Yard sale.”

  Good thing Shannon hadn’t heard that. “Where?”

  “Shannon’s street. I was on my way to her house when I spotted the bracelet and bought it. Cost ten bucks.”

  He probably didn’t want to know how much the real thing retailed.

  “You remember which house specifically?”

  He scrunched up his eyes. “If you’re looking at Shannon’s, three doors down on the left.”

  “You’re sure?” Sean said.

  ?
??Positive.”

  I pulled out the picture of Sarah Loehman. “Have you ever seen her before?”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t think so. We done?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here,” he said, handing me the bracelet. “I don’t think she’ll want it back.”

  I folded my fingers around the metal, wondering what happened to Sarah, how something so treasured had ended up in a yard sale. “Thanks.”

  Jimmy took off running.

  We drove the three blocks to Shannon’s street, parked in front of her house. “One, two, three,” I said, counting houses. It was a small bungalow, the yellow paint cracking. Chunks of brown poked through the snow on the sidewalk.

  I knocked on the door. No one answered.

  By the time we got back into the car, Jimmy had caught up with Shannon and looked like nothing had been forgiven. “Young love,” I said.

  Sean threw a look my way that nearly melted my shoes to the floorboard. “It doesn’t get easier as you get older.”

  Unfortunately, he was right about that.

  “What now?” I asked.

  Sean took out his BlackBerry. “We find out who the house belongs to.”

  As he logged on to the Internet, I leaned back in my seat and wondered why I hadn’t heard from Aiden. Had he found out who sent the letters? Had his lead been a dead end?

  I let my eyes close. Next thing I knew, the car was moving. I glanced at the clock. Three hours had gone by.

  I jolted awake.

  Sean said, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

  I smiled. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “You needed the sleep.”

  “When did it start snowing?” Fat flakes fell from the sky, coating everything in sight. There was an inch on the ground already, maybe two.

  “A couple hours ago.”

  I tried to shake myself awake. “What happened with the yellow house, the yard sale … ?”

  “I thought we might as well take advantage of being up there.”

  I rubbed my gritty eyes. “I’m glad I could be of help.”

  He laughed. “The house is owned by a local LLC, and is rented to a man named Jerry White. He pays monthly, in cash. My search into his history went as well as could be expected. No one came or went the two hours I watched.”

  I tried to listen, to process, but my mind was still fuzzy with sleep—and not having enough of it.

  “I talked to some neighbors. Most people in that area are hardworking blue-collars who don’t want any trouble and keep to themselves. No one knew anything of much interest. Yes, a man named Jerry lives there and has for a couple of years. No, they don’t know what he does for a living. He drives a Ford truck. He’s quiet, doesn’t go out much. I’m not ready to call it a dead end by any stretch, but we’re going to need to call in some help if we want to do surveillance properly. Might want to check with Aiden, see if he’ll okay the expense.”

  At the reminder, I checked my phone. Aiden hadn’t called. “I’ll ask. But I also think it’s time to take the next step.”

  “Which is?”

  “I need to contact Scott Loehman. I might be able to get a reading from Sarah’s wedding band.”

  Snow crunched under the car’s tires as Sean turned into Aerie. It was early afternoon—if this snow kept up there could be a foot of it by tomorrow morning.

  My cottage was aglow with Christmas cheer as Sean rolled to a stop. As I unbuckled my seat belt, Sean touched my arm. “I can’t stay.”

  “No?”

  “I had a call while you were asleep. Cara’s back in the hospital. Another fainting spell.”

  How convenient, I wanted to say, but was immediately shamed. She might really be sick, and even I didn’t hate her enough to wish that upon her. “Okay,” I said.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “I won’t wait up.” He had a key, knew the alarm code.

  He leaned in and kissed me, deep and tender. “Wait up.”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  Inside, I puttered around, doing some light cleaning. I finally stopped procrastinating and picked up the phone. I took a deep breath and dialed, while looking at Scott’s photo from Sarah’s file.

  Scott Loehman answered on the second ring. I introduced myself, hoping I didn’t sound as though I had already pronounced him guilty.

  “Detective Holliday said you might call. I was hoping you would,” he said.

  “Oh?” I studied his eyes in the picture. The eyes of a killer?

  “Ms. Valentine, there is no one on this earth who wants to find out what happened to Sarah more than I do. No one.”

  I tried to dissect his tone. Did I hear any deception? Any hesitation? I simply couldn’t tell. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I’m desperate, Ms. Valentine. Do you think this will work?”

  “I can try,” I said, walking over to my mantel. Sarah’s bracelet glimmered in front of thick pine garland. I ran my finger over the silver links. “No guarantees.”

  “Are you free now?”

  I hesitated. Actually, I was. Cutter McCutchan’s showing didn’t start till seven. I had plenty of time. “I can be there in half an hour.”

  “There’s a park near my house. The kids are dying to get out in the snow. It’s a busy neighborhood. Plenty of people around.”

  “I, ah, thank you.”

  “I’m well aware of my reputation, Ms. Valentine. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Like I said, I’m desperate. I need your help. You might just be the only person who can prove I had nothing to do with Sarah’s disappearance.”

  Or the only one who could prove his guilt. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  20

  Empty swings were mounded with fluffy snow as a pack of small children scampered from the merry-go-round to the jungle gym, bundled against the cold. Red cheeks glowed, laughter carried, and I watched with a smile from the warmth of my car.

  There was nothing quite like the happiness of a child.

  I opened the folder propped against the steering wheel. I’d read every sheet in it multiple times. If I had to make a snap judgment based on that information, I’d label Scott Loehman guilty. He had motive, opportunity, and the know-how to make someone disappear without a trace.

  Yet … he agreed—he even seemed eager—to let me do a reading.

  I decided to go into the meeting with an unbiased opinion. Let him talk, hear what he had to say. And of course, use my psychic abilities to try and find his wife.

  I watched two small girls chase each other around a seesaw, giggling as pigtails bounced beneath knit caps. I guessed they were about three years old. The same age Maddie Loehman had been when she sustained a broken arm after falling down the stairs at her house on the morning of her first day of preschool.

  And poor Jake. On his first birthday, he’d spent most of the day in the ER. Turned out he’d had a tear in his intestine—from falling into the corner of a table, Sarah had said.

  If Scott had been abusing the children, it was easy to see why Sarah would cover for him. She was scared too. And now she was missing …

  Not wanting to read any more, I closed the file. I hoped that after today I could close the file permanently.

  My cell phone rang as I watched for Scott and the kids to show up. Was he calling to cancel? He was already late by five minutes, and I began to doubt that he would come. After all, if he was guilty I might be able to prove it. I might stand me up too, if I were him.

  Or maybe it was Aiden with more information on the possible break in the Handmaiden case. I was almost afraid to hope that I could start living without fear again.

  As I fished my phone out of my bag I saw it was neither. I smiled at the ID screen and answered. “Did you shave yet?”

  Raphael laughed. “Not yet, but I’m beginning to itch. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

  “I’m sure Maggie will understand.”
r />   “I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Don’t mmm-hmm me, Uva. Spit it out.”

  “It’s just that it’s clear to me you know how much Maggie likes the Grizzly Adams look, and you like Maggie, and you want her to keep liking you. But what you’re not understanding is that Maggie will like you, furry or not.”

  “Mmm-hmm. It’s clear, is it?”

  “Crystal.” My gaze scanned the park, across the playground to the far corners of the snow-covered fields, past the picnic shelters, naked maple trees, looking for Scott. No sign of him.

  “Are you free tonight for dinner to discuss this theory further? If you get here soon, the roads won’t be so bad.”

  Across the street I spotted a man walking hand in hand with two children. They were headed this way. “I can’t. I’m going to Cutter McCutchan’s showing at a fancy gallery downtown.”

  “I see. Actually, no I don’t. Why? You don’t even know Cutter McCutchan.”

  “I have a sudden interest in the arts?”

  “Uva …”

  “All right. I’m curious about him. Preston Bailey lied about knowing him. Dad added him to Dovie’s party guest list … I just want to go. I feel like I’m being kept out of something and I don’t like it.”

  “Mmm.”

  The man smiled as the little girl looked up at him, chattering a mile a minute. “No ‘hmm’ to go along with that?”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Raphael said sternly.

  “Well, I do.”

  “Oscar’s business is his own, Lucy.”

  I watched the man cross the street with the children. As soon as they were safely across, he released their hands and they took off running and laughing toward the slides. The father then glanced around as if looking for someone.

  “Look, I’ve got to go, Pasa.”

  “Lucy, do not go tonight. Come here instead. I’ll make your favorite. Belgian waffles …”

  Scott Loehman turned in a slow circle, hands in his pockets. I pushed open my car door. A frosty gust of air cut right through my peacoat.

  The waffles tempted, but I held firm. “I’ve got to go, Pasa.”

  Stepping into the cold, I hung up and tossed my cell on the passenger seat. I didn’t want to fight with Raphael. After his reaction, I was more curious than ever about Cutter McCutchan.