The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day—and the year. Students streamed into Garnet’s room to say their final goodbyes. At four o’clock, Jenny stuck her head in the room.
“What did you decide about happy hour? I’m riding with Wendy and Susan. You want to hitch? Wendy can drop you off back here to pick up your car.”
“No, thanks. I’ll drive on my own. I have a couple of things to tidy up here. Order me a Cosmopolitan, will you?”
“Oooh, you’re going whole hog. I think I’ll get one, too.”
Twenty minutes later, Garnet scanned the street between the school and her car. Still no Jeep. Nor was one parked near the lounge. She got lucky and found a parking place right outside the front door.
The last to arrive, Garnet slipped onto a stool Jenny had saved. The friends laughed, joked, toasted each other, and helped themselves to a variety of hors d’ oeuvres. A few teachers left, but Garnet had ordered a second drink when Jenny slid off her stool to leave with Wendy. “I’m seriously bummed,” she said. “The hottie’s a no-show. Come on, Garnet, we’ll walk you to your car.”
Garnet waved them away. “I’m parked right next to the door. I’ll be fine, Jenny. Considering what I paid for this drink I’m not wasting a drop. I think I’ll find a booth and order some dinner. I’ll see you Monday. We need to talk about what we’re going to do over the summer break.” Standing, Garnet hugged all three friends. The trio walked out and Garnet signaled a waiter to request a booth. He carried her drink, put it down and said, “I’ll bring you a menu.”
“No need. I’ll just have a chicken Caesar salad.”
The waiter turned away. Garnet started to sit, but felt as if she were being watched. Not uncommon. The lounge was a popular hangout.
A quick glance around the room, though, and she froze. A man who must’ve just entered was indeed staring at her. It was the stranger who’d been asking questions at school and her apartment complex. Garnet’s cheeks heated as he blatantly slid a sleepy-lidded gaze from her head to her toes and back again.
SOMEHOW, once Julian saw Jenny and the other women leave, he didn’t expect to find Garnet Patton inside. When he did spot her, he didn’t think she’d recognize him. But the instant their eyes met and he watched her square her slim shoulders and narrow her eyes, Julian knew he’d been made. He considered ducking out, although perhaps it was time to discover if her ex-husband might have a reason to be setting up housekeeping in Georgia.
Besides, from the set of her jaw as she marched toward him, she plainly had questions of her own, and she intended to get answers.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHO ARE YOU?” Garnet demanded, nervously tugging down the sleeves of her sweater. “Why are you asking questions about me?”
Julian started to hedge his answer. But the lightbulbs around the bar mirror highlighted the fragile shadows under her eyes, indicating she was far more vulnerable than the rigid set of her spine suggested.
“I’m Julian Cavenaugh. I’m a detective from Atlanta,” he explained, noting her deepening frown. At this point, Julian was hoping to see a spark of recognition, something to indicate she’d heard of the area. Nothing was forthcoming. Instead, she shook her head, loosening strands of pale hair from a silver clip at her neck.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
And Julian could see she didn’t. “Please, won’t you sit down? I’ll try to explain. As well, I think your waiter lost you. The poor guy’s looking confused. I’d hate to be responsible for him taking your dinner back to the kitchen.”
His soft drawl and winsome smile caused Garnet to look back at her booth. Giving an ever-so slight nod, she made her way through the crowded room to her table. She apologized to her waiter.
“I saw your jacket was still here,” he said, beaming. “Is there anything else I can get you, miss?” He set her salad down and shook open a snowy linen napkin. Then he apparently noticed Julian hovering to his left.
Garnet sat and reluctantly motioned to the opposite seat. “Please bring the gentleman a menu.” She eyed her drink, then pushed the glass aside, and said, “I’d like coffee, please. Black.”
“I’ll take a dark ale. Whatever’s on tap.” Julian closed the menu. “I’d like your best steak with whatever fixings it comes with.” Offering Garnet another smile, he added, “Can I talk you into ordering something more substantial than rabbit food and high-octane caffeine? I promise I don’t mean you any harm. I haven’t bitten anyone since I was three. Suzie Walker from down the street. And she bit me first, and harder.”
Arching an eyebrow, Garnet moved croutons aside with her fork and spread the fresh Parmesan. “My salad is loaded with chicken, which won’t clog my arteries. I’d point out you don’t know anything about me or my habits, good or bad, but that’s not true, is it, Mr. Cavenaugh? You’ve been asking my friends a lot of personal questions.”
“Julian, please.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.
His beer came and they both fell silent a moment. “So, you’re a cop, not a reporter?” Garnet continued to pick at her salad, and Julian fidgeted with his cutlery and the salt and pepper shakers. He showed her his badge, returning it to his jacket pocket distractedly.
As his silence dragged on, Garnet worried that once again she’d pinned her hopes on a stranger who would disappoint her. Long ago, Garnet had vowed she’d risk everything, even meet with the devil himself if it would lead to her daughter’s whereabouts.
Now, as she studied the man seated across from her—his hawkish features and black hair curling stubbornly over his ears—she thought it was entirely possible she’d done exactly that.
“I don’t quite know where to start,” Julian said, tracing a line down the damp glass with his finger.
Garnet set down her fork and clasped her hands to keep them still. “Please, oh, please, if this has anything to do with Sophie just tell me straight out.”
Affected by her ragged voice, Julian looked away and drank from his beer. He dug in his shirt pocket and removed the grainy photograph he’d taken of the little Hackett girl at her front window. The one where he’d caught her in partial profile. He slid the snapshot across the table.
Garnet snatched it up with a strangled cry. Questions poured out one after another. “When, ah, where? How? It’s so unclear. Is this Sophie?”
Trying to tread carefully, Julian leaned forward. “What do you think?”
“Oh, God. I wish I could be sure. This was taken from too far away.” She placed the picture gently on the table. “It’s been over a year. That day, I let her dress herself for preschool. She chose pink cords, a frilly white blouse and bright red sneakers. At lunchtime, my ex-husband arrived at Sophie’s preschool unannounced. He barged past office staff who knew he shouldn’t have access and took her. The last time I saw her was when I dropped her off. In my dreams, she looks exactly as she did then. Realistically, I know she’s changed. She’s probably lost her baby fat.”
Julian said nothing, letting Garnet fill the silence. “Dale—my ex—and I finalized a bitter second custody hearing two days before he kidnapped her. The police think the fact that I was given full custody set him off. Friends said they’d seen Dale drinking excessively. Someone had witnessed him losing his temper.” Tears filled her eyes as she picked up the photo and caressed it with her thumb. “Why would you make the trip from Georgia to Alaska to show me a fuzzy photo? You called yourself a detective. Are you a private detective? Who hired you? Wayne Jenkins is the last P. I. I paid to find Sophie. He stopped his search when I couldn’t scrape together his monthly retainer. Did he approach you for some reason?”
“No. I have nothing