“Sure. Yeah. I just finished reviewing her résumé.”
Miranda smiled. “Great. I’ll bring Alex right in.”
Might as well look professional for the DA’s new hotshot prosecutor, Sawyer thought. He shrugged into his sports jacket, as Miranda reentered his office. “Sawyer, I’d like to introduce you to Alex Boyden.”
In addition to being intelligent, Alex was very attractive. Dense ebony hair cascading down past her shoulders and a thick fringe of bangs riding just above her eyebrows. Smooth, brown skin and a wide, generous mouth. Intense near-black eyes that might cause a defendant to squirm. She had a shapely physique that was obvious despite the professional pantsuit. Sawyer went over, thanked Miranda and extended a hand to Alex. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your appointment.”
From the self-confident smile on her face, he surmised the DA had called her overconfidence correctly. Sawyer could see it in her demeanor, the sparkle in her eyes and the firmness of her handshake.
“Thank you,” she said. “I understand you’re the best the DA’s office has had to date.”
Sawyer didn’t miss the emphasis on to date. “Well, I don’t know about that, but thanks.”
“I intend to change that,” she said.
Sawyer’s laugher burst out. Yeah, the self-confidence was definitely there. Some might call it arrogance, but she said it so smoothly, almost as if joking, that he couldn’t take offense. “I bet you will,” he said, as he gestured toward his meeting table.
“I need your help to do it, though,” she said, inclining her head. “I appreciate your meeting with me.”
“My pleasure,” he said and realized he meant it. There was some humility in her, after all.
By the time Sawyer finished his meeting with Alex, he was even more impressed. True, she had an abundance of confidence, but it wasn’t without cause. She was smart, quick to comprehend and eager to learn. He’d agreed to act as a mentor for her, but when she suggested they discuss it over drinks, he drew the line. Mentor, yes. A personal relationship, absolutely not. It was highly inappropriate, for one thing. Besides, there was only one woman he was interested in.
He checked his watch. Time to head home. He didn’t want to miss a moment with Dylan...and Shannon.
As he was climbing into his Range Rover, his cell phone rang. He felt real pleasure when he saw Shannon’s name and number on the call display.
“I’m on my way now,” he said when he answered the phone. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Sawyer, are you driving?”
“No. Not yet. I was about to start the engine. Why?”
“Wait. I don’t know how to tell you this, other than straight out. Dylan is missing.”
“Missing? What do you mean missing?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHEN SHANNON REACHED Sawyer on his cell phone and told him what had happened, she’d heard him suck in his breath, followed by a lengthy silence.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’m leaving right now.”
Sawyer’s voice had sounded cold. Accusatory?
And why shouldn’t it? Dylan was missing a second time. But this time, it was on her watch.
She called Cal next. Holding back the tears with enormous effort, she explained to him what had happened and asked how long he’d be.
“I’m fifteen minutes out,” he told her.
Walking through the gate again, she took another long look at both ends of the street.
Nothing.
All she could do was wait.
Cal and Scout arrived first, along with Logan. They immediately started the search for Dylan. Sawyer arrived shortly after.
His rage was palpable, and Shannon took it personally. It exacerbated the self-reproach she was already feeling.
“Why was Dylan alone outside?” he asked.
“I... It was only a moment. I thought he followed me in. Rufus needed—”
“Are you saying it was because of the dog that this happened? The dog was more important than my son?”
“I—”
Sawyer shoved his hair back with both hands in an agitated motion. “Sorry. That was out of line.” When he noticed Rufus cowering in the corner of the room, he squatted down and reassured him, too.
“The stats... The likelihood of a child being abducted a second time is—” Shannon stammered.
“This is my son we’re talking about.” He cut her off, but there was no heat in his voice. Only pain and distress. “It hardly matters to me what the statistics are.”
He slumped heavily into a chair and cradled his head in his hands. When he heard the knock shortly after, he sprang up again. He was at the door in a heartbeat, yanking it open. Shannon rose, too, and could see that it was Cal and Logan. Looking at their faces, she knew the answer before Sawyer could ask the question.
“Did you find Dylan? Do you have anything?”
Logan shook his head. “I’m sorry. Can we come in?”
Without a word, Sawyer turned and strode away, leaving the door open for the men to follow.
Shannon caught Logan’s questioning look and gave a slight shake of her head to indicate both that Sawyer wasn’t doing well, and there’d been no contact from anyone about Dylan.
“Can we please sit and talk?” Logan asked Sawyer. “Detective Bigelow and Special Agent Leary are on their way.”
At the next knock, Shannon got up, and Sawyer stayed with Logan and Cal. When she opened the door, Meghan stood in front of her, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, skin blotchy, her lower lip trembling. Shannon had only known Meg to be calm and collected and seeing her obvious distress made the grief well up inside her, too. She wasn’t sure who initiated it, but suddenly they had their arms wrapped around each other, rocking gently.
“I can guess how Sawyer is. How are you holding up?” Meg asked, once they’d both stepped back.
She appreciated that someone would ask about her, especially under the circumstances, and sighed. “I’m not the one to worry about right now, but thanks. Come in.”
After all the questions had been asked, the law enforcement officers excused themselves and headed back to the division, except Cal, who went out to search again. Shannon swung by her home to pick up Darwin, in case they were needed. She left him in his kennel at the division and met the others in the conference room.
“How could this have happened?” Bigelow demanded.
Shannon tried to be thankful for small mercies, in that he didn’t ask how she could’ve let it happen. Sawyer hadn’t used those words, either—to her great amazement and relief—but she knew everyone there had to be thinking it was her fault.
It was all she could think about.
But who would’ve expected Dylan to be abducted again? “I was just inside for a minute when he disappeared,” she said feebly for the umpteenth time. “The gate was latched, the...”
“We’ve been through all that. What I want to know is—” Bigelow cut himself off in midsentence when Cal walked in. “Anything?” he asked.
Cal shook his head. “No. The boy was put in a vehicle maybe twenty yards from the gate. The vehicle drove down the road to Hacienda Drive and turned left. We followed the scent to the freeway ramp.” Looking tired and defeated, Cal sank into a chair. “You know as well as I do that our chances of following the trail on a freeway are negligible.”
“Are there any surveillance cameras along the route?” Shannon asked, desperate to find any clue.
“We’re checking,” Logan replied.
The door opened again and FBI Special Agents Leary and Wilson walked in.
Most of those in the room had already attended a briefing about their interview with Jeannette Evans—now Lilly Harris—and the subsequent investigation. “I’ll su
mmarize it again, in view of the second abduction,” Bigelow suggested.
“The same evening that she disappeared from her health club over three years ago, she was found in a ditch by the side of a road in Arizona. 911 had been alerted from a prepaid cell phone that was purchased from a convenience store farther down the freeway. It had been paid for with cash. That was the only call made from the phone, and all they’d been able to get from the video footage of the store’s cameras was that it was bought by a woman. The external camera was inoperable, so they didn’t get anything on the vehicle.” Leary ran through the rest of what they’d learned from Lilly Harris. “She has no recollection of anything that preceded waking up in the hospital,” Leary concluded. “She has no knowledge of how she got there. No memory of Evans or her son, even when we showed her the pictures.”
“How did she react to learning that she has another husband and a child?” Shannon asked before she could stop herself.
Anne Wilson shrugged. “Much as you’d expect. We didn’t reveal their identities, but showed her pictures to see if we could jog her memory.” She paused. “It couldn’t have been an easy discussion with her husband. Husband number two, that is. He seems to be a smart and astute person, and they appear to be genuinely in love. I hope they’ll be able to work through this.”
Leary looked around the room. “Bottom line? Based on our interview with Harris, my personal judgment and factoring in the time of the first abduction, I don’t believe she was involved. Nor do I suspect she would’ve been behind the second abduction. Finally, we showed her picture to Juanita Sanchez and she didn’t recognize her. Can we move on?”
When no one objected, he turned to Shannon. His initial questions were similar to Logan’s. There was nothing in his demeanor that implied he was blaming her. But it didn’t matter to Shannon, because she was too busy blaming herself.
When they finished the meeting, she checked her personal cell phone, hoping and dreading in equal measure that Sawyer had called or texted her.
There was no call. No text.
Regret? Relief?
She was so shaken and conflicted, she was unsure of what she was feeling.
When she let Darwin out of his pen, quickly ascertaining that they were alone in the kennel area, she sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog. He rested his head on her shoulder and leaned against her, making gentle whining noises. It was as if Darwin was giving her a hug back.
When she felt steadier, she rose. With Darwin at her heels, she left the division and headed to her Explorer.
On the drive home, she decided it was up to her to call Sawyer, regardless of how awkward that would be. She’d do that after she walked Darwin.
She wouldn’t take the coward’s way out by avoiding him.
By the time she parked in her driveway, she’d already changed her mind.
Not about taking the initiative, but her method of contact. She needed to have the discussion in person.
She fed and walked Darwin, chugged down a Coke and ate an apple. Not much for dinner, but her stomach would likely have revolted if she tried to force more. She changed into a pair of khakis and a light blue sweater. Finally, she gave Darwin a chew toy to keep him occupied while she was gone. It was already late evening, but she didn’t doubt for an instant that Sawyer would be up.
When Shannon pulled up in front of Sawyer’s house, she wished she’d called first. His driveway was full of cars. She recognized Bigelow’s and Leary’s police-issue vehicles. The other two belonged to Sawyer’s sister and parents. He must’ve called them and told them what had happened, and they’d driven straight back from La Jolla. As for Bigelow and Leary, she should’ve realized they’d come straight over here after the briefing.
It was Meghan who opened the door and led her into the living room. Everyone looked at her, but it was Sawyer’s gaze she held.
His expression was inscrutable.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SAWYER STARED AT Detective Bigelow. He couldn’t believe they had no leads and nothing to go on. After he’d heard that, it was as if Bigelow was speaking in a foreign language. Or through some sort of dense liquid. He could see his mouth move, hear him, but it was beyond him to comprehend. He’d wanted his parents there and his sister. Shannon, too, and he was relieved when she showed up because he hadn’t had a chance to call her. What had happened wasn’t her fault, but he hadn’t been rational and couldn’t contain his despair when he’d first learned about it.
Sawyer turned frantic, bewildered eyes on those in the room, wanting to hear something that would give him hope.
All he saw on their faces was the same range of emotions that were churning inside him, threatening to tear him apart. He groped blindly for his mother’s hand. His father, on his other side, placed a shaking arm around his shoulders.
Sawyer desperately wanted what he’d heard not to be true. Once again, they had no leads in the search for his son or his son’s abductors. His emotions were in such turmoil, he could barely function. The only thing that kept him going was the belief that they would find Dylan again.
He focused on something he could control. He wanted to see Jeannette. He rationalized that he wanted to look into her eyes and satisfy himself that she had nothing to do with this. And she was Dylan’s mother, whether she remembered him or not. The FBI hadn’t told her yet what had happened to Dylan—either the first abduction or what happened today—but she needed to know. If they wouldn’t tell her, he would. He’d reconciled himself to the fact that his feelings for Jeannette were not what they’d once been. Knowing that she had amnesia changed the grief and anger he’d been living with to a different kind of sadness. It softened the blow of her desertion—if that was what it had been. How she’d ended up in that ditch in Arizona was still a mystery. He’d been elated to learn that she was alive, for her own sake and for Dylan’s.
And Shannon? If not for all the other people in the room, he would’ve wanted to lose himself in her arms.
Oddly, it was the silence when the detective stopped speaking that drew Sawyer’s attention back to him.
“When can I see her?” he asked, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar to him.
“Sorry?” Bigelow asked.
“When can I see my wife?”
A noise—more of a gasp—had him turning to Shannon, and from the look in her eyes, he knew she was hurting, too. But he needed to see Jeannette, needed to do it to bring some form of closure.
Bigelow glanced at Leary who nodded almost imperceptibly. “She said she’d be willing to meet with you.”
Sawyer ran his tongue over parchment-dry lips. “Okay. Good.”
“But she insisted that her husband be there with her.”
“I’m her husband!” Sawyer met Shannon’s gaze again and saw the shimmer of tears and flinched. He hadn’t meant husband in an emotional sense; he’d meant legally. But Jeannette had another husband and two children now. Sawyer got to his feet. Shoving his fists in his pants pockets, he stalked to the window and stared out.
He was going to lose his mind. He was sure of it. He was surprised he hadn’t already.
Parents were supposed to protect their children. Keep them safe. And now he’d failed to do that for Dylan. Twice! It seemed he’d failed his wife, too, in that regard.
He stalked back to stand in front of the detective.
“I want to see Jeannette, whatever her conditions.”
When his eyes met Shannon’s, he could see the conflict there—and the pain. He understood that she didn’t know where this left them. Heck, he didn’t either. And he’d admitted to himself that he’d fallen in love with her. Perhaps against his better judgment, given the situation, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.
He had to deal with his past and present before he could think of the future.
H
e wrenched his gaze away, turned it on Bigelow again.
“Arrange the meeting, please. As for finding Dylan, what’s the plan?”
After Bigelow and Leary went through all the same points they’d discussed earlier, Shannon left Sawyer’s home, along with everyone else. Sawyer understood the unasked question in the deep-blue pool of her eyes, but he couldn’t do anything about it right then. He was completely drained and empty. He had nothing left to give. Not to her. Not to his family.
The police had no clear plan, as far as finding Dylan was concerned, and he felt entirely useless. There was nothing he could do other than assure himself that Jeannette didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping.
Bigelow and Leary were considering everyone they’d already looked at and eliminated. Futile maybe, but that’s all they had. It would probably mean more questions for him, too. As they were leaving, he was asked to think hard about whether there was anyone else they hadn’t yet considered.
Regardless of how many possibilities he pondered, he kept returning to the same conclusion. It had to be someone he’d put in jail, most likely for a long time. The cops had debated again whether it could have been a random abduction, but the chances of that were negligible, and even more so, factoring in the second abduction.
It had to be about him. The self-reproach associated with that cut through him like a scorching hot blade.
Sawyer pulled a soda out of the fridge and popped it open. He took a long drink, then rolled the cold can across his burning forehead.
And thought of Jeannette. Alive?
He’d searched his heart. His soul.
He was no longer in love with her. Oh, sure, he’d always love her—assuming she didn’t have anything to do with Dylan’s abduction—because she was the mother of his child. But not with the all-consuming love he’d had for her when they were together.
Shannon, on the other hand... He was in love with Shannon.
He sat on the couch and laid his head back against the cushion. What kind of father was he? What kind of human being? Thinking of himself during a time of crisis. Thinking about a personal relationship when he didn’t know where his son was or what he was experiencing.