She was certainly the last person he’d expected to see. That old familiar awareness throbbed to stilted life. “How did you find me?”
“Um, this.” She pulled a black pocketbook from her purse and slid out a neatly folded piece of newspaper. She handed it to him. “I saw this about three years ago.”
Rafe skimmed it, his gaze going to hers as he realized it was the article the Associated Press had picked up on him. Two weeks after Rafe had left the Air Force, a child belonging to a major in Rafe’s old Air Force detail had been kidnapped by the major’s estranged wife. Rafe had set out on a one-man mission to find the child and succeeded. He’d also testified in the subsequent custody trial. The local paper had done a story, which had been picked up by AP.
Kit had seen the article. And kept it. Not knowing what to think about that, not wanting to think anything, Rafe handed it back to her.
She smiled uncertainly, slid the clipping in her pocket-book. “I called Kevin to see where you were and he told me. I found your phone number in the book.”
He’d spoken to Kevin Strong just yesterday, and his college roommate hadn’t mentioned a thing about Kit. Rafe made a mental note to tell his friend not to be so free with information.
Still not believing she was here, he cleared his throat. “How are you?”
“Fine.” She shoved a thick lock of hair off her forehead, giving a sharp laugh. “Well, not really. That’s why I’m here.”
Rafe tried to dodge the images that crashed over him—the throatiness of her laugh, the sleek feel of her body against his, the tight perfection of his inside her. She’d been his first love. Even if he told himself he’d forgotten her, he hadn’t.
Whatever had happened, he couldn’t take this case. Right now that was the only clear thing in his mind, but still he couldn’t deny a burning curiosity to find out what she’d been doing the last ten years, where she’d been.
“I can pay. Or…I guess I should ask about your fee.”
“We’ll work that out.” Was she married? Divorced? Children?
He didn’t want to ask or even acknowledge the questions ricocheting through his mind, didn’t want to admit to the heat that squeezed his chest at the thought of her with another man. He’d moved on.
He knew their relationship on her side had never been as committed as it had on his. After so long, it shouldn’t make him wince that it had taken him an entire year to get rid of her engagement ring. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Liz.” She hesitated then said, “She’s missing.”
“Again?”
“Don’t start, Rafe. This is serious.”
“With your sister?” He arched a brow. “Since when?”
She gave him a flat stare.
“You’re sure she didn’t hook up with some guy at a bar?”
“I’m sure,” she said tightly. “She’s not like that anymore.”
Rafe couldn’t even imagine such a transformation, but neither could he ignore the panic in Kit’s eyes.
Indicating the straight-backed chair in front of his desk, he eased himself down into his own overstuffed gray leather chair, grateful for the support at his back. “Tell me what happened.”
Instead of sitting, she began to pace. Her soft cotton dress curled around her calves and clung to her lithe body, molding her perfect breasts. Rafe forced his gaze to her face, picked up a pen and pulled a legal-size notepad over to him.
“Can I get you something? Water, a Coke?” He was amazed at how calm he sounded, especially when he wanted to ask a million questions. Do you still live in Tulsa? What have you been doing? Do you ever regret turning me down?
She flashed him a tremulous smile, but her worry was tangible. “No, thanks.”
He’d smelled this same raw desperation before in each of the twenty missing persons cases he’d solved.
“I’m a flight attendant for TransAmerica. Yesterday morning, I returned from a layover in Miami. I had a message, only thirty minutes old, from the hospital on my answering machine. The nurse said Liz had been in a car wreck.” Kit dragged an unsteady hand through her hair. Fatigue and worry drew her features taut, flattened the sweet curve of her full lips. “I raced over, but when I got there, Liz was gone.”
“Did you check at the nurses’ station? Maybe she—”
Kit shot him a look. “Of course. They told me they wanted to keep her overnight for observation, but she’d left with her husband, Tony Valentine.”
“Liz is married?”
“No. Yes. Supposed to be getting a divorce.”
“Ah.”
Kit’s dark glare skewered him.
“And you?”
She blinked. “Me?”
“Married?”
“No.” The word practically exploded from her.
Yes, that sounded like the Kit he knew. His mouth twisted, despite the satisfaction curling through him.
She shoved a hand through her hair again, then clasped her hands together. “Anyway, Liz just up and left with Tony.”
Which was just like Dizzy Lizzy Foley, Rafe reminded himself. “Maybe she got back together with her ex.”
“She lives with me. I would’ve known.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to tell you. She used to take off with one man or another a lot.”
“Something’s happened,” Kit said stiffly. “Liz wouldn’t just go off like this.”
“What about that time she ran off with the high school quarterback? Stephen Hankins?” Rafe reminded her.
“They were in Mexico, plastered on margaritas and begging a priest to marry them when you found her.”
That had been right after the death of Rafe’s grandfather. Kit had come home with him for the funeral, then left before it even started to chase after her sister. Again. Resentment curled through him. He thought he’d forgotten about that. Apparently not.
“So you won’t help me?” Kit stopped in front of his desk, anger snapping in her eyes.
He kept his gaze on her, refusing to dwell on the protective urge that shot through him. “She is an adult and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of foul play.”
“She called me this morning, terrified.”
He tapped a finger on his desk. “What did she say? Did she go with Tony willingly?”
“She said she couldn’t talk long because the call could be traced. She told me she was all right, that she’d be calling me later to wire some money.”
“To where?”
“She’s going to let me know. In the meantime, I can get some money together.”
Rafe bit off the sharp comment that rose to his lips and said gently, “It doesn’t sound as if she’s in trouble, Kit.”
She inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut briefly. “She is.”
Whether Liz was in trouble or not, he could see Kit believed she was. Using his most soothing tone, he put himself on automatic pilot, which he should’ve done from the beginning. “Talk to me.”
Her hands, on top of his desk, fisted. Then unfisted, fisted. “Tony, her husband, was in