Jane was only glad she could be here. She’d already decided that if they didn’t find Bree tomorrow, she would pack a bag and come to stay. She’d take days off from work, too, as much as she had to. That way she could offer Alexis some stability and Drew the relief of knowing she was being taken care of. She could take care of him, too. Cook dinners, that kind of thing, even though she wasn’t exactly Susie Homemaker.
Once she was sure Alexis was sleeping soundly, Jane slipped off the bed and out of the room, leaving the door half ajar so she’d be able to hear the little girl if she awakened. The twin bed was way too small for the two of them to share, and Jane’s adrenaline ran too high for her to be sleepy yet anyway.
What she wanted was to be hunting for Bree, but she knew she was lucky that Clay had involved her as much as he had so far. He didn’t have any obligation to. And as much as she hated it, he was right that family members were always the first suspects when an act of violence or an apparent abduction happened. And what had she done but told him, so brilliantly, that she and her sister weren’t getting along very well. If she hadn’t been at work when the accident occurred, he’d have had to consider her; she knew that. Considering that she didn’t like him, she was disconcerted by the sting she felt at the idea that he’d readily suspect her of hurting her own sister, or her niece.
He’d said he didn’t as if the idea was ludicrous, but...she didn’t know whether to believe him.
He’d seemed angry at her when she’d last seen him at the hospital. Was that because she’d been too honest about Lissa, and he’d realized he had discounted her possible involvement too quickly?
I don’t care what he thinks about me as long as he does his job, she thought fiercely. As long as he finds Bree.
But...she knew that wasn’t true. She did care. She could have cared a whole lot, if only he had turned out to be the man she’d believed he was.
That thought felt like grief, heavy in her chest, not so different from her fear for Lissa and Bree and her sadness for Alexis.
Something she so didn’t need.
* * *
IT WAS PROBABLY too late to call Jane. Clay didn’t even know why he wanted to. He’d seen plenty of her today, God knows. But after he’d left the hospital, as the evening and then the night had crawled on, he kept thinking about her. Wondering whether she was still there, or had gone home, or...?
He reached his own place, a log cabin on the outskirts of Little Elk, a town too small even to have a post office. He loved the quiet and the peace here, and had looked forward to showing Jane his home.
Yeah, well, that wasn’t happening.
He parked his Jeep Grand Cherokee in the carport attached to one side of the cabin and got out. The moon was heading toward full now, and the silver illumination cast shadows from the tall pines. He’d never installed a motion-activated light; there was enough wildlife around here that it would have been popping on all the time. As he walked toward the front door, he heard a soft hoot. A welcome home, or a complaint because he’d disturbed the night?
He let himself in, not bothering to turn on the porch light or a light in the main room. Instead he made his way by habit to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of milk and downed it in a few swallows, hoping it would soothe the acid in his stomach. Too many cups of coffee today. Had to be that, and not the gut-churning emotions he’d felt every time he looked at Jane or thought of her.
The clock on the stove told him it was 11:19 p.m. Maybe not too late to call? As scared as she was, would Jane really have dropped into a peaceful sleep by now?
Clay didn’t know why he felt such a hunger to talk to her. He didn’t have anything that qualified as real news to share, but...he wanted to hear her voice, to know she was okay.
He was dialing before he could have second thoughts.
Jane answered on the second ring. “Clay?” Her voice rang with anxiety.
“Nothing new,” he told her hastily. “I just, uh, thought I’d check in. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“No. Of course not.” She hesitated. “I’m at Lissa’s with Alexis. So Drew could stay at the hospital.”
“He’s planning to stay all night?”
“I don’t know. He shouldn’t. He has to get some rest sometime. But I offered to pick up Alexis and tuck her in. She’d already had dinner with the neighbor.”
“Did you have dinner?” he asked, leaning back against the knotty pine kitchen cabinets.
There was a moment of silence. “I’m not hungry.”
“I know it’s hard when you’re scared, but you should have something.”
“Maybe.”
He sought for something else to say. “Alexis okay?”
“Not really. It was—” She broke off, or maybe her voice had broken. “Um, she wanted to talk about why her mommy hadn’t opened her eyes, and she was hoping I’d promise to bring Bree home tomorrow.”
“She’s five, right?”
“Right. She’s supposed to start kindergarten in...wow, not much over a week.”
“Bad enough at that age having something scary happen to one member of your family. But two...” He shook his head, remembering something he hadn’t thought of in years. His mother had had breast cancer when she was in her forties. Really scary shit, even if he was an adult. Sort of an adult, he amended, doing some mental arithmetic to decide he’d been...nineteen? Twenty? Anyway.
“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked. “You’ve gotten really quiet.”
So he told her. “All they did was remove a lump. They were confident they’d caught it early. But we all watched her like a hawk for years. I don’t even know when I quit getting this sinking feeling every time I saw her and thinking, what if it comes back?”
“Maybe after the magic five years?”
“Maybe.” What did this have to do with anything? He wasn’t sure. But he said, “My dad’s a hard-ass. You know? That’s the only time I can ever remember seeing him emotional. Scared. And gentle with Mom. That’s not his style.”
He’d never actually thought of his parents and the word love connected until that scare. Then he’d known. His father might not be good showing it, but he loved Clay’s mom. It was plain he’d have been lost without her.
Clay had liked his father a little better after that.
His mouth twisted. A little summed it up. Increasingly, he felt distaste for a man he’d once admired. A man who’d loved his sons and always had time for them while he taught them everything he believed a man should be.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“Maybe because it came out all right?” Jane suggested. “Your mom is fine?”
Was that why? He’d wanted to remind her that, yes, scary shit did happen and most often everyone came out safe on the other side?
If so—that was dumb as hell. Jane and he were both in a good position to know how often when things went to shit they stayed that way. Faces flashed through his memory, too many to catch one and stop it—the faces of accident victims, battered wives, kids who did something stupid and paid the ultimate penalty. Murder victims.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
What could he say but “You’re welcome.”
“Have you gone home?”
“Just got here.” He kneaded the back of