She twisted around to look at William. The idea that he might have overheard all that had been said in the last few minutes wrenched her heart.
“Sergeant Shepherd,” Jonathan acknowledged.
“Major Foley.” William stepped past Melissa and settled into the chair next to hers.
“It’s just Foley now,” Jonathan corrected.
William made a sound in his throat, not quite a laugh. “Are you sure?”
Melissa watched the interaction between the two men, her pulse thumping in her ears. The connection between the two was instantaneous and palpable. They’d never met, yet the military connection somehow made them familiar.
One corner of Jonathan’s mouth quirked with an almost smile. “You’ve got me there. But today we’re not soldiers so let’s keep things informal.”
William gave an agreeable nod. “My daughter is my heart,” he said, his tone flat. His emotions had run so high for the past few days that his mind and body could no longer maintain the necessary energy for emotional nuances. “I would gladly die right now if it would bring her back here.”
“I have no doubt,” Jonathan concurred. “However, even the best of us have moments when we snap. Maybe do something we didn’t intend to do.” Before William could counter, he added, “Then denial kicks in and we genuinely don’t believe ourselves capable of such an act. The mind is a powerful thing. It sometimes protects us from that which we cannot bear.”
Unlike Jonathan, William’s shoulders were slumped, his usually handsome face lined with fatigue. He turned his hands, palms up. “Believe what you choose, Foley. I had nothing to do with my baby’s disappearance.” His voice cracked with the last. “My only guilt is in not being there like I should have been.”
Melissa took his hand in hers. His felt limp and cold. “You don’t have to convince anyone,” she soothed. “He just doesn’t know you, that’s all.” She glared at the man she’d called to help. “Thank you for making that call.” She squared her shoulders. “Right now William and I should get down to the command post and see what we can do to help.” Melissa didn’t care what the chief said, she wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing.
She absolutely was not going to put William through another interrogation.
Jonathan stood. “I’m glad I could help.”
Every fiber of her being screamed at her to say something, to stop him from leaving. But she wanted him to go, didn’t she? He’d made the call. William didn’t have to leave until Polly was found. Melissa didn’t need anything else from Jonathan. He should go.
William pushed to his feet, letting go of Melissa’s hand and reaching for Jonathan’s. “Sir, you don’t know how much I appreciate what you’ve done.” He shook Jonathan’s hand with a firmness that Melissa would have thought him too weary to generate at this point. “I have no qualms about serving my country.” His hand fell back to his side. “I just couldn’t go…yet.”
Jonathan nodded. “When this is resolved, let me know and I’ll make the necessary calls.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jonathan strode toward the door.
Melissa’s feet remained glued to the floor all the way up until the moment he opened the door.
She was across the room and calling after him before her brain caught up with her actions. “Jonathan.” What the hell was she doing? She should let him go!
He stopped, nearly to the steps, and turned, that ice blue gaze colliding with hers.
“We’re scared.” She pressed her lips together a moment and fought to hold back the tears. “We…we’ve never been in a situation like this. We don’t know if the police are doing everything they can do.” She shrugged, tried to hold back some of the truth spilling out of her, but that wasn’t happening. “We ask questions and get answers we don’t understand. We try to help but they…”
Jonathan was coming back toward her, one steady step at a time, his gaze never leaving hers, not even to blink.
“They don’t know anything…” A sob halted her words. “They can’t tell us anything except to be patient and to pray.” Frankly, she was beginning to doubt her link to the Almighty. She’d about prayed herself out, about lost hope.
Jonathan stopped toe-to-toe with her. “It’s possible that what the police are telling you is all there is to tell.” He shook his head slowly, somberly. “These cases can go unsolved for years.” A shadow moved across his face. “I have to tell you, after five days, if there’s been no ransom demand, the chances of the child being found alive are slim to none.”
“Polly.” The name trembled on Melissa’s lips.
A frown line formed between his eyebrows.
“That’s her name,” Melissa said. “She’s three years old and the most precious child.” She smiled even as a hot tear slid down her cheek. “She has to be alive. I’m not willing to accept anything else. If—” Another of those halting sobs caught her words. “If you can help us, it would mean a great deal to me if you would stay.”
The morning breeze whispered across her skin, sending goose bumps scattering up her arms. She waited for his answer, prayed some more in spite of herself. Maybe he couldn’t help, but somehow, deep in her heart, she knew that his presence would make a difference. She had denied that knowledge, had told herself she’d called him just for the military connection, but that had been a lie.
She needed him right now. Melissa didn’t want to admit any such thing, but it was true.
Damn it, it was true.
“Make no mistake,” he said quietly, “I can’t promise you anything.”
She shook her head adamantly. “You don’t have to promise anything. It’s enough that you try.” Her lungs dragged in a deep, much needed breath.
Their gazes held for one, two, three beats. “All right then. I’ll try.”
Chapter Three
11:05 a.m.
Jonathan stayed on the front porch of William Shepherd’s modest home while he and Melissa argued with his apparently uncooperative wife. The windows were raised, allowing the breeze to drift inside and also permitting the raised voices to carry right out to where Jonathan waited on the ancient wooden swing.
Presley’s argument was simple. She’d been interviewed by the police twice, the family half a dozen times and she had no desire to answer questions from some friend of Melissa’s. The way she said her sister-in-law’s name suggested a serious dislike. In sharp contrast, Melissa patiently and gently urged Presley to reconsider.
Melissa.
Jonathan drew in a breath, the heaviness in his chest fighting the effort. What the hell was he doing here? He’d made the call. That was all she’d asked him to do when they’d spoken on the phone. Her brother now had whatever time he needed to resolve this terrible state of affairs. The local police seemed competent; the FBI had been consulted. There was little else Jonathan could do other than retrace already taken steps. He nudged the porch floorboards with the toe of his boot, setting the swing in motion.
And yet he had agreed to stay when she’d asked.
Because he had to.
Jonathan closed his eyes and let the memories he’d dammed years ago flood his mind. Their meeting had been nothing more than a chance encounter. He’d been on the final plummet of a serious downhill slide. Walking away from his military career under the circumstances at the time of his official exodus had plunged him into a thirty-month descent of self-pity and denial. Denial of who he was and what he’d done.
Until