Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10 (7 page)

His dimple flashed again in a half smile. “Honey, weird isn’t the word for it.”

She hugged that moment of normalcy—that sweet smile and having him call her “honey” again—to herself as she watched him pull up the state identification database and type in a query for Michael Smithwick. Chin in hand, he tapped the index finger of his other hand on the desk, eyes on the screen.

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve actually watched you do an interview.”

He looked up, a small frown between his brows. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got to watch your dad interview someone once, when I was a rookie.” She ran a finger along the edge of the desk. Bringing up his father made her nervous. After that awful first night, he’d been so stoic, revealing no grief, and he never talked about him. Of course, they weren’t talking about much of anything of consequence. Still, she grabbed the chance to connect with him. “You sounded a lot like him today.”

“Thanks.” His gaze tracked back to the screen, but a small flush of pleasure touched his cheekbones. His cell buzzed, and he tugged it from his pocket and swiped to answer. “Bennett.”

He listened, brows lifting in surprise. He turned to face Amy, mouthing, “It’s Troy Lee. We’ve got her. She’s in the ER.” Rob returned the phone to his ear and listened, frowning. “Where? Right. Yeah. We’re on our way.”

With slow movements, he tucked the phone in his pocket.

“What?” Amy waited. The frown didn’t clear.

He leaned back in his chair. “She was over in Haynes County on some back road. Trying to walk home barefoot, carrying that baby. Someone stopped for her, called 911. Her hand is cut all to hell.”

“Haynes County? How did she get over there?”

“I don’t know. She’s with a crisis counselor at the ER, getting stitched up. They’re checking the baby out too. Let’s go find out what’s going on.”

* * * * *

The waiting room outside the ER sat mostly empty. An older man dozed in one corner, and a young woman sat in the center bank of chairs, scrolling idly through her cell phone. Behind the window at the intake desk, a tall brunette talked to the woman typing at the computer. Both looked up at Amy and Rob’s approach.

The brunette eyed the gold star embroidered on Rob’s flak vest. “Investigator Bennett?”

“Yes.”

“Louise, buzz them in, will you?”

With a metallic clack, the lock released, and Rob pulled the door open, ushering Amy in before him. He took the brunette’s extended hand, then gestured at Amy. “And this is Agent Bennett, GBI.”

“I’m Victoria Cook from the Women’s Crisis Center.” She shook Amy’s hand as well. “Everyone calls me Tori.”

The woman at the computer looked up, open curiosity on her face. She took a sip from the Big Gulp cup at the corner of the desk and waved the cup between them. “You two related?”

“Married,” Rob said, and Amy almost smiled. They’d gotten that a lot when they’d both been with the GBI. He turned his attention to Tori, his voice pitched low despite the empty hallway. “What can you tell us?”

“Not much. I don’t know how much help this will be.” Tori shrugged an apology, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “She was already shaky, and honestly, her mother is not helping.”

“But we can try to talk to her.”

Tori glanced between them. “I’d suggest only Agent Bennett.”

Rob nodded. “See what you can find out, Amy. I’m going to call and check in with Troy Lee and Calvert.”

“Did she tell you anything?” Amy asked as they neared the exam room. Their shoes clicked on teal and gray industrial tile that needed to be replaced. Disinfectant coated the too-cool air in the hallway, painted in nondescript beige and pink.

“Only that she’d cut her hand on her phone and her car wouldn’t start. She was going to walk for help, but someone stopped for her. Instead of taking her for help, he drove her into Haynes County, and she finally managed to get away. The details are sketchy, and she’s only giving a general overview.”

“Do you believe her?”

Tori paused. “Do I believe something traumatic has happened? Yes. Do I believe all of the story? No. I think she’s either hiding something she doesn’t want to face or she’s protecting someone.”

The murmured voices behind the door rose, becoming audible even in the hallway. “I want to go home, Mama! I just want to go home.”

Hope’s reply was muffled by the door.

“I know that, Mama, but you don’t understand. I didn’t want
any
of this. You never listen to anything I say. Why won’t you listen to me?”

Tori tapped on the door. The voices ceased, other than a subdued sob, and moments later Hope Michaels opened the door. Her eyes were red, her expression tight with frustration. “Yes?”

“Hey.” Tori’s smile was as soothing as her tone. “Agent Bennett would like to talk with Brittany while the nurse gets her discharge papers.”

“I don’t have anything to say!” Brittany’s voice rose again, the edges rough and hysterical. Amy found it hard to see the smiling, upbeat blonde teenager from the senior photo Rob had used to create a missing-persons flier at the station. This girl’s face was sunburned and splotchy, streaked with tears and dirt, and her blonde hair hung in a lank, messy ponytail. “I have told you what happened.”

“I know, Brittany, but I’m not law enforcement.” Tori glanced down the hall, then back to Brittany. “To find the person who did this to you, they need information.”

“It was just…” Brittany put her fingers to her forehead and started to cry in earnest. “It was just a guy.”

“Ms. Jenkins? I know this is hard for you.” Amy tried for her gentlest, most encouraging tone. She cringed at her own clichéd words. Her days usually involved dealing with deceased victims or faceless people subject to stolen identities. Was this how Rob felt, completely out of his element? No wonder he looked so grim and tense. “Anything you can share with us may help. What he looked like, what kind of car he was driving. Anything.”

“Britt, you need to tell them.” Hope pulled the door wider so Tori and Amy could enter. She closed the door more firmly than necessary and frowned at her daughter. “Seriously.”

Amy hoped her face didn’t betray her reaction. Tori’s “not helping” might have been an understatement.

“I don’t know what to tell you, okay?” Brittany rubbed her wrist across her runny nose. Tori snagged a box of tissue and pulled a few free to hand to the young woman. “He was a guy in a car.”

“Can you describe him? Tall or short? Hair color?”

“A tall white guy.” Brittany dropped her hands in her lap, shoulders slumping. “He had dark hair.”

“Eye color?”

“He was wearing sunglasses.” She picked at the edge of the clean white bandage wrapped around her hand. A visible shudder worked through her with a shaky, audible breath. “I really want to go home.”

“I know. You’re doing great.” Amy pushed as much encouragement as she could into the words. “What about the car?”

“It was gray. Really dirty.”

“Do you know what kind?”

“No. I don’t know cars.”

“Small? Big? Two doors or four?”

“Small. Two doors.” The desperate look Brittany gave her mother was beseeching. “Mama, can I please get Emma and come home now?”

“Your daddy and Zeke are in with Emma.” Hope crossed her arms over her chest. “Once the nurse says you and her can go, your daddy and I will run you all home.”

“God.” Brittany pressed her fingers to her forehead. A tap at the door had her head jerking up.

A nurse stepped in with a sheaf of papers. “I think we have you all ready to go.”

“Brittany, the sheriff’s department will need to get an official statement from you.” Tori pulled a card from her pocket. “If I meet you there, would you be willing to come into the department tomorrow, maybe around ten, to do that? Or I could ride out to your home with the investigator?”

Brittany looked at the card Tori extended as if it were a snake poised to bite her. She sighed and reached to take it. “I’ll come in tomorrow at ten. And I don’t need you there.”

In the hallway and with the door closed behind them, Amy shook her head on a rueful breath. “Wow.”

“I know.” Tori cast a troubled glance at the closed door. “I don’t envy your husband this investigation.”

Amy tucked her hands in her back pockets. “She said she wanted to get Emma and
come
home. Not go home.”

“Yes.” Tori worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Her grandmother does my mama’s hair, and Brittany sometimes babysits my stepdaughter. From what I understand, she’s been trying to convince Hope to let her come back home for a while. Hope’s attitude is that she’s made her bed and—”

“And now she has to lie in it.” Amy finished the sentence softly, and Tori nodded.

“It’s not a good situation for any of them.”

“If there’s a back way out of here, they may want to use it.” Rob’s grim voice drew their attention. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the waiting room. “News teams from both local stations just showed up.”

“Vultures.” Tori didn’t try to hide her disgust. She smiled ruefully at Rob. “Thanks. I’ll go get security so we can get them out through one of the side entrances.”

She walked down the hall, and Rob drew Amy aside from the room. “Anything?”

Amy shrugged. “You’re looking for a tall white guy with dark hair, wearing sunglasses and driving a two-door small gray car of indeterminate make and model.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Shit.” At her lifted brow, he grimaced. “Sorry.”

“She is willing to come in for an interview in the morning at ten.” She patted his arm. “You can work your magic then.”

“Yeah, right.”

“So what’s next?”

“I go back to the department and write this up.” He shrugged. “Put out a BOLO for the car description, which is pretty pointless, but other than that, Calvert said to call it a day. Tomorrow, hopefully we’ll have phone records to look at, and I still want to talk to Mike Smithwick.”

Her workday was done as well, and back at the sheriff’s office, she borrowed an empty computer to file her own recap. Afterward, they walked out to the parking lot. To the west, fluffy clouds shone red and pink with the near-to-setting sun. At his truck, she leaned on the door and looked up at him. “You look tired.”

“It’s been a long day.” He scuffed a hand over his neck and rested his other hand against the truck. “I’ll take you back for your car and follow you home.”

“A long, weird day.” She was in no hurry to move, though. This was the closest they’d been in months, physically and emotionally, and she wasn’t ready to give that up yet. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” He frowned. “I don’t think we ever did lunch today.”

She shook her head. “We didn’t—”

A siren’s chirp interrupted her, and she jumped. The silver Charger purred to a stop next to them, and Troy Lee lowered the window. “See you in the morning, Bennett? A little after five?”

Rob actually smiled. “Yeah.”

A boyish grin lit Troy Lee’s face, and he lifted a pair of fingers. “Remember—two things.”

“Got it.” Rob chuckled, and with a wave, Troy Lee drove away.

Amy relaxed against the truck door once more. “What was that all about?”

“Advice.” Rob shifted his stance, resting his weight against his elbow rather than his hand. The action brought his body closer to hers. Even with the steamy heat of early evening around them, she soaked in his warmth.

“Advice? About what?”

“Us.” He twirled a strand of hair that had escaped her loose knot around his finger. This close, she could see the light stubble darkening his jaw and drink in the scent of him. The layer of soap under male sweat reminded her of being wrapped up with him, naked in their bed, and long-forgotten desire warmed low in her belly.

“What was his advice?” Her voice emerged breathy and a little shaky. Did he feel this too?

“One was to kiss you more often.”

Oh, she really liked the sound of that. “And the second?”

“The second?” Rob lowered his head, mouth close to her ear. Oh, yes, he felt it, with that familiar throaty growl of arousal in his voice. “That I should get back in your bed.”

Chapter Five

The breath she’d been holding whooshed out. “Oh.”

“That’s all you can say? ‘Oh’?” A lazy smile shaped his mouth, and he continued that slow twirl of her hair around his finger. He cast a glance back at the department, his smile taking on a rueful tinge. “I really want to kiss you right now, honey, but this isn’t the right time or place.”

“You’re right about the place.” She ached, her whole body tingling with the anticipation his nearness and words were building. “It feels like the perfect time, though.”

Surprise widened his eyes before his lashes fell. “You want me to kiss you?”

She fiddled with his collar above the flak vest. “More than you know.”

He took one last look at the building behind them. “Ah, the hell with it.”

Before she fully registered his moving, he shifted to face her, both hands braced on the truck, bracketing her neck. He lowered his head and feathered his mouth over hers, a soft barely-there caress that did nothing to soothe the palpable ache she felt for him. On a moan of pure need, she softened into him. He gripped her waist, fingers painfully tight in their urgency. “God, Amy, I’ve missed you.”

The rough whisper shivered over her, and in reply, she licked at his upper lip. He groaned, weight sinking into her, pinning her, only making her want more. She cradled his head in both hands and surged up into him, opening her mouth against his. On another groan, he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer. Oh, she’d missed him, too…

He broke the kiss, breath coming heavy. With a gentle finger, he traced her lower lip, nose resting next to hers. “I’ve definitely got to kiss you more often.”

“Yes.” The single syllable was all she could manage, with the gentle whisper of his fingertip kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Come on.” He trailed that maddening finger along her jaw. “Let’s go home.”

In the truck, she watched his hands while he drove, remembering all the times she’d had those hands on her. She shivered under a hot rush of memories. They’d talked about food, but really all she wanted at this point was him, the two of them wrapped up in tangled sheets, naked and hungry for one another.

Twenty-four hours before, she’d been nervous about getting dressed with him in the room because he seemed like a stranger.

The realization brought her up short. Sure, she loved him and she wanted him, but was jumping back into the physically intimate part of their relationship smart when they were trying to find emotional intimacy?

“How about I throw us a couple of steaks on the grill when we get home?” He slowed for a red light and rubbed his thumb over his upper lip. Maybe remembering that kiss, her licking him. Her mind replayed his husky groan, and nervousness warred with desire. She needed to think, needed to be smart about this, needed a
plan
.

“Rob, that part about getting back in bed together, I don’t think that’s a good idea yet.” The words tumbled out of her.

The look he focused on her held equal parts hurt and confusion. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you with a steak, Amy.”

“I know. The steak part is fine.” She struggled for the right words and breathed a momentary sigh of relief when the light turned green and driving demanded his attention once more. “I’m just…the kissing is great. I mean, the kissing is really, really good. But the sex part? I don’t think we’re ready for that. Do you? I’m not sure I even remember the last time we made love—”

“You’re right.” He’d dropped his hand from his mouth, the skin there taut and white. He almost looked ill. “We can wait.”

Relief surged in her, and she melted against the seat, the nerves in her stomach giving way to giddy relaxation. “Thank you. I know it sounds stupid because we’re married and I think we’re headed for good things, but waiting seems best.”

The only answer was the whir of tires on the highway and muted music from the radio turned down low. She shifted her attention from watching the slow evening activity of Coney to his face, jaw tight and eyes straight ahead. He’d looked like that the day his father had died, tensed and hurting and like he would throw up…which he’d ended up doing before the night was over as the shock of his dad’s sudden death had started to wear off.

Any relief she felt disappeared like dew burning off under a hot Georgia sun. “Rob?”

“Hmm?” He braked to take the turn into the GBI office parking lot.

“What’s wrong?” She pored over the conversation. What had she said to put that look on his face?

“Nothing.” He parked next to her car, but left the engine idling. “I was thinking.”

She fiddled with her seat belt. “If you have a reason why we shouldn’t wait—”

“What? No. That’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m going to run back by the office, see if those cell records came in.”

“Okay.” Still eyeing him, she released the belt. He’d been stressed over starting this job, Troy Lee showing him up, all that junk with Jake yesterday, and today had been a long, hot mess. That would be enough to make anyone tense and sick. “Do you want me to fix us something?”

“Only for you. I’ll go through a drive-through for a burger or something.” He shifted into reverse, and she pushed the door open. “I’ll see you later.”

Like he’d done ever since they were dating, he waited until she was in her car and turning on the road before pulling out of the parking lot himself. In her rearview, Amy watched his truck getting smaller and smaller, finally disappearing in the opposite direction. There’d been no touch or hug or goodbye kiss.

Somehow, they were right back where they’d started.

* * * * *

As he’d expected, the cell records hadn’t shown up. Providers were notorious for taking their sweet time with requests. Like it really mattered, since the records had simply been his excuse to be anywhere but at home for a little while. Back in his truck, he drove slow circles on back country roads, trying to approximate the routes he and Troy Lee had driven the past couple of days. He needed time, time to try to focus on the puzzle that was Brittany’s story, time to not think about that kiss.

Time to definitely not think about the last time he’d been in bed with his wife and how that had ended up.

He took that memory and boxed it up, shut it away in his mind. Tonight’s kiss too. He didn’t need that one, either.

Damn it all, why had he listened to Troy Lee anyway? They’d been fine, or rather he had… Being numb had its advantages. They could have simply kept going along until Amy figured out for real that he wasn’t what she wanted, although hell, what difference would that make? She was worried about her mother’s reaction to a divorce.

Not his. Not her own. Her mother’s.

But one thing he knew was Amy and her family, and Charlotte Mills would want what was best for her daughter. Amy was resilient—strong and smart and a planner. If he was out of the picture, she’d simply make a new five-year plan and move on.

His headlights illuminated a street sign in the hovering dusk. Long Lonesome Road. Freaking perfect. He didn’t remember it from the hours in the car with Troy Lee, but what the hell?

After a couple of miles, the two-lane blacktop widened to a concrete bridge over the river. Rob pulled his truck to the shoulder and killed the engine. Gravel crunched under his shoes, the smooth concrete making little noise as he walked to the railing and peered over at the brown water. The river whispered rather than rushed, a deceptively slow-looking slide that concealed dark depths and wicked currents. A swimmer going in on this stretch would be nearly a mile downriver before realizing what was happening.

If he made it that long without going under for good.

Hands clasped before him, he leaned on the handrail. Somewhere he’d read that drowning was the easiest way to die. A simple act of letting the water take over, letting the water close around—

He rested his forehead on his clasped hands. What he really needed was to talk to his dad. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the sudden burning there. He’d held off crying this long, hadn’t cried over any of it, although heaven knew he’d wanted to plenty of times.

“Crying doesn’t change a thing.” The river caught the whisper and carried it away. That had been his dad’s motto after they’d lost his mom.

Jesus above, he didn’t know how to do this, to do
any
of this, by himself. The longing to sit on the back porch overlooking Long Pond and rock awhile, talking through his problems with his father, made his chest hurt.

On the other side of the river, thunder rumbled in the clouds piling high atop one another. He blew out a breath. Feeling sorry for himself wasn’t changing anything. Maybe he could step back and put on some objectivity, look at their marriage the way he would a set of interviews, piece the story together that way.

She didn’t want a divorce. She said she was proud of him. She didn’t see him as a bad husband. She
wanted
him to kiss her more often. She wanted to take things slowly.

It all added up to a woman who wanted things to work. It added up to a woman he loved who would be hurt if he let himself go under.

What he had to do was find a way to get his head straight so he could meet her halfway. In the past, whenever he needed to sort out his thoughts on anything, that meant time on the porch with his dad. He simply had to figure out how that process was going to work in the present, with his father gone.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Should have left it in the truck. With a sigh, he straightened and pulled the cell free to read the text from Troy Lee.
Still owe you that beer but not tonight. See you in the AM for a run.

Maybe tomorrow he’d find out how good a listener Troy Lee could be and start finding his way back from there.

The rain broke on his way home. Sheets of silver blew sideways across the road. He parked next to Amy’s little BMW in the drive and ran for the side door, clothes plastered to his skin. He stopped in the laundry room and stripped to his briefs. She’d kill him if he trailed water all through the house. He snagged a towel and rubbed most of the moisture from his hair and skin.

The house was quiet and mostly dark, lamplight spilling from the living room. He padded through the dim kitchen and dining room. “Amy?”

She slept, curled into one end of the couch, head resting on her bent arm at what had to be an uncomfortable angle. He leaned down and picked up her tablet where it had fallen to the floor. He reached out to shake her awake and checked the movement. Even in slumber, her mouth had a pinched, unhappy slant. He smoothed his thumb across her lower lip, memories tumbling through him. He’d put that look there.

With a gentle hand, he hooked glossy brown hair behind her ear and leaned down to lift her into his arms. She stirred, looped her arms around his neck and rested her face against his throat. Her soft sigh whispered across his skin. “Mmpf. Rob?”

“Yeah.” He skirted the couch and angled them down the hall toward the bedrooms. Heaven above, it felt good to hold her again, and he stopped himself from pressing her nearer.

“What are you doing?” She played with the edges of his hair with lazy, drowsy movements.

“Putting you to bed.”

She shivered against him. “Your skin is cold.”

“It’s raining.” Even now, the rain pounded the metal roof.

In the bedroom, the small lamp on the dresser cast a golden glow across the bed. He set her gently on her feet and flipped the covers back. She swayed into him, arms still about his neck. “Where’ve you been?”

“Riding around. Thinking.” He brushed his mouth across her brow and tipped her onto the mattress. He reached for the covers.

Her hand on his forestalled him. Some of the drowsiness cleared from her dark eyes, a small frown bringing elegant brows together. “I hurt you earlier somehow, didn’t I?”

He stilled under the sweetness of her gaze. “Yeah, a little. But it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” The sorrow on her face was unbearable. She reached for him, one arm about his neck, a hand curved along his jaw. She pressed her lips to the corner of his. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m fine.” He cupped the back of her head, hair silky against his palm. She could hurt him all she wanted if this nearness was the payoff.

“I am so sorry.” She moved, seeking his mouth with hers. Against his lips, her mouth was warm and wet, and she tasted of honey and spice. He began to sink into her and stilled once more. Planting his hands on the bed, he levered away, gaze locked with hers but no physical contact between them.

He swallowed. “We’re waiting, remember?”

“You said you’d kiss me more often, remember?”

The sassy rejoinder drew a smile from him. “Yeah, but if I kiss you here, I’ll forget all about waiting.”

He straightened and reached for the covers again. She wrapped her fingers around his as he drew the duvet to her waist. With gentle movements, he settled her against the pillows and leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too.” Her breathless voice stayed with him all the way back to the couch, where he was destined for anything but sweet dreams.

* * * * *

The rain, driven by the bands of an outlying tropical storm in the Gulf, didn’t let up. Troy Lee, as Rob discovered, didn’t allow a little, or even a lot, of rain deter him from running his miles or working traffic. Following another five-mile run, they’d tried and failed to track down Mike Smithwick at his home or work. After Troy Lee had written his fourth ticket of the morning and returned to the car, water dripping off his rain gear, Rob tapped his watch. “We need to head back to the station. Brittany Jenkins is supposed to be in at ten for an official interview.”

Troy Lee nodded and turned around at the next break in the median. He grinned. “Looked like you two were doing okay last night when I left.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Troy Lee’s brows rose.

Rob tapped a finger on his knee. “I did some thinking last night.”

“Yeah?” The Charger swayed a little on the rain-choked highway, and Troy Lee flexed his hands on the wheel.

“I really think she wants this to work.”