Obsession (5 page)

“I’ll get on that ASAP, ma’am.” 

Jess winced. “Don’t call me ma’am. I hate that.”

“Sorry.” Wells scrunched her face in uncertainty. “Agent Harris?”

“God, that’s even worse.” Jess winced again. Six hours in the area and she already sounded like she’d never left. The accent she’d buried half a lifetime ago had descended upon her like the second coming.

It wasn’t that she hated the south or Birmingham. What she hated was her past here. Throwing off that past, all aspects of it, had served as an emotional launching pad for her future. For the new Jess. It had gained her the respect of those who deemed a southern drawl and the term y’all as an indication of intellectual deficiency.

The emotional drama of the past few days had done a serious number on her head. She felt out of place, out of sorts…out of options. No matter that this function was about the case, it was the social interaction she didn’t have the powers of concentration to cope with at the moment.

Somehow she had to get her head back on straight. Any mistake she made could prove devastating to the outcome of this case.

“How would you like me to address you?”

Jess shook her head. She’d gotten completely off track and left Wells hanging. “I’m sorry, call me Jess or Harris or whatever.”

She puffed out a big breath of self-disgust. She had never exactly been a social butterfly, but current circumstances had rendered null and void what few social skills she generally managed. Wells no doubt thought Jess was a little peculiar.

“The problem is, Detective Wells,” her fingers tightened around the cup of punch, making the Styrofoam squeak, “I’m a little off my game.”

Wells slowly nodded her understanding, which meant she didn’t understand at all. “The chief can be a little intimidating at times. After I made detective last year, he sat me down in his office and told me that he expected more from me than the other new detectives. I’ve been terrified of screwing up since.”

Oh good Lord. Wells obviously had drawn certain conclusions after finding Burnett in the ladies’ room. Since the detective was quite perceptive, the likelihood that she had missed Jess’s red, puffy eyes was slim to none.

“Trust me, detective, my being out of sorts has nothing to do with Daniel Burnett. He’s the least of my worries.”

As if Destiny had determined to make a liar out of her, across the room Dan hugged a tall brunette. The kind of female who made being a woman look easy. The kind all other females disliked on sight. 

Apparently noticing her interest or her slack jaw, Wells hastened to explain, “That’s Annette, his ex-wife.”

“He got married again?” That was one Jess hadn’t heard about. She had to hand it to him, he never gave up. Apparently the third time hadn’t been the charm.

“Briefly.” Wells cleared her throat. “Oh, and that’s Annette’s ex. I mean the ex she went back to when she and the chief split. They’re Andrea’s parents.”

“She’s Andrea’s mother?” Jess had picked up on that intimate connection when Dan talked about the missing girls. Andrea was his step-daughter. “Burnett shouldn’t be involved in this case.” Her attention rested on the man, his ex-wife and her former ex who was…wait… “Did Ms. Denton and Andrea’s father remarry?”

“Yes. About six months ago.”

That still didn’t provide the emotional distance needed to be objective in a case like this.

Jess wanted to go right now—or as soon as Burnett finished talking to the Dentons—and rant at him for leaving out that little detail.

But she wouldn’t. If she were completely honest with herself, she would probably do the same thing if someone she cared about was missing. But, damn it, this was exactly the kind of seemingly insignificant information she needed from these people.

How could men with the experience under their belts that Patterson, Griggs and Burnett had not see that omission was precisely the problem with this case? The small town mentality. No matter that Birmingham had grown to be one of the largest cities in the south; the small town mindset of everyone
knows
everyone else lingered. The truth, however, was that no one ever really knew anyone’s deepest, darkest secrets. Not even after two or more years of marriage.

This she had experienced firsthand.

“Is there something between you and the chief?”

Jess hauled her attention to the younger woman and lifted an eyebrow as much in a show of skepticism as in surprise at her boldness.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Wells held up both hands, palms out, and waved them side to side as if she could erase the question. The tell-tale display of embarrassment colored her high cheek bones.

Jess could lie but she suspected Wells would see right through her. “Yes, detective, there is something between us. We’ve known each other our whole lives, went to school together, and all that. What’s your point?”

Sergeant Harper appeared behind Wells. He flashed Jess a smile. “Excuse me, Agent Harris, but I need a moment of Detective Wells’ time.”

Harper was the second detective from BPD on the task force. In terms of time on the force and grade he had seniority over Wells. His personnel jacket was loaded with high praise. He was also tall, dark, handsome, and charming. The faint Hispanic accent lent an exotic flair to his voice. Exactly the man one would want questioning college age girls. Precisely the reasons—beyond his skill as an investigator, she suspected—he had been handpicked for this task force. 

“Of course, sergeant.” Jess was ready for a moment alone without distraction and interference now that she had the most relevant faces committed to memory. Plus, Harper’s intrusion prevented Wells from pursuing her line of questioning.

“I’ll be right back, Agent Har…ris.” Wells winced.

Jess waved her off. She’d made a mess of her first time in the field with the detective. When the two, Wells and Harper, had huddled by the row of refreshment tables, Jess’s attention settled on Dan and the Dentons. The woman certainly didn’t mind hugging her ex in front of her other ex-now-husband. But then, the circumstances were incredibly painful. Jess couldn’t imagine the agony a parent suffered when a child was lost. There had been a time when she’d considered having a child. She blanked the memory. Not now. Not ever.

Deep breath
. She was here for reasons that didn’t include Dan Burnett’s personal life or her own. Surveying the crowd, she decided the time was right to approach Reanne Parsons’ mother. The poor woman lingered near the punch bowl, a cup in her hand. She looked lost, forlorn. Unlike the other parents, she appeared to avoid the friends of her missing daughter who had gathered to show their support.

Jess considered dragging Wells with her since Parsons might feel more comfortable with a familiar face. But the two detectives had inched closer, the smiles exchanged obviously unrelated to police business.

“I guess I’m not the only one with a secret or two,” Jess muttered. She downed the punch in her cup and headed for a refill. There was more than one way to skin a cat. She cringed. Damn it.
There was more than one strategy for any maneuver
.

Loraine Parsons stared blankly at the mass of people scattered in conversational clusters around the hall and didn’t appear to register Jess’s approach. Jess poured a little more punch into her cup and turned back to the crowd. She paused for three beats.

“The service was very moving.” She had missed the first fifteen minutes. Dan hadn’t been happy but appearance was an important element in investigative methodology. Jess was glad she’d chosen the conservative white dress. A plain sheath with no embellishments, neckline practically at her throat and the hem all the way to her knees. Not a soul would recognize that she hadn’t graced the pew of a church since she was twelve except the time she’d interviewed a priest related to a case.

“It was.” The faint sound of the woman’s voice was nearly lost in the hum of conversation.

Jess shifted the cup to her left hand and stuck out her right. “I’m Jess Harris.”

Lorraine stared at Jess’s hand before taking it, her movements stiff. Her hand was like ice, the contact brief. “Lorraine Parsons.”

“Oh.” Jess put a hand to her chest. “Mrs. Parsons, I’m so sorry that you’re going through this awful time. Bless your heart.” That phrase she’d thrown in on purpose.

Lorraine wrapped her slight arms around her thin body. “It’s a nightmare.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Reanne would do something like this.”

The revelation sent a little shockwave through Jess. “You believe she ran away from home?”

Reanne was the only one not in college. She worked at a sandwich shop in Tuscaloosa near the University of Alabama. Detectives Wells and Harper had learned the young woman had a few secrets of her own, like the tattoo her parents didn’t know about. Friends were always happy to tell those little secrets. The power of knowledge rarely failed to make an appearance in situations like this. Everyone wanted to be the hero or the star if only for a moment by passing along some previously unknown information. The broader the interview list and the more questions asked, the more likely that single piece of relevant information would be discovered.

“Did her boyfriend talk her into running off? I swear.” Jess shook her head. “Kids these days.”

“No…I meant that she allowed herself to get in this position.” Lorraine stared at her, the abrupt retraction of her words telling. “My daughter didn’t have a boyfriend.”

Didn’t?
“My goodness,” Jess offered, “I’m sorry. I just assumed she did. She’s so pretty and all. And Lord knows young girls these days usually have plenty of boys chasing after them whether they’re looking for a boyfriend or not.”

Lorraine looked away. “Not our Reanne. She’s too immature for a relationship like that. She’s not ready.”

Says who?
The woman was deep, deep in denial. A denial that had likely started around the same time her little girl blossomed into a young woman. Too bad for both mother and daughter. Mother also thought daughter had run away from home, it seemed, but clearly hadn’t meant to say as much.

“More parents should tell their kids how important it is to wait until they’re ready for such a commitment,” Jess agreed. “Everything happens so fast and with cell phones and such, it’s nearly impossible for parents to keep up with what’s going on in their kids’ lives.”

“We don’t use cell phones. Or computers. They’re the devil’s tools.”

Jess had decided that herself, at least where cell phones were concerned. She had a feeling Reanne’s tattoo was only the tip of the iceberg as far as what Lorraine didn’t know. “It sounds like you’ve set a good example for your daughter. I’m sure she’ll come home soon. Her father is probably beside himself with worry. I just can’t imagine.”

If Jess hadn’t been looking directly at Lorraine she would have missed the vague nod.

“He feels guilty. He’s sick with it. Between losing the house and now this.” She shook her head. “That’s why he couldn’t be here tonight. He’s had all he can take.” A big breath crossed her lips. “He’s weak.”

“That’s a shame.” Jess put her hand on the other woman’s arm. “This must be even more difficult for you to do alone.”

Lorraine looked at her, her numb expression suddenly animated with fervor. “I’m not alone. I have my Lord with me. I trust Him completely. Whatever he has in store for my daughter will be.”

“Of course.” Jess moistened her lips, worked to keep any sign of judgment off her face and out of her voice. “Perhaps He’ll help your husband with his guilt as well. The Bible does tell us to put our burdens on Him.” The concept had never worked once for Jess. She’d learned the hard way that relying on anyone other than herself was a mistake. 

Lorraine shook her head, the gesture adamant this time. “This is his fault,” she said in a near whisper. “His faith wasn’t strong enough. After we lost our home, he stopped trusting his faith. He let our girl down, but worst of all he let His Heavenly Father down and now we’re all being punished.”

For about two seconds Jess was at a loss as to what to say. Did the woman have no compassion for her husband? She went with an old reliable line. “That happens to the best of us sometimes. We just have to get through it.”

Lorraine gestured to the crowd. “These people don’t understand that they have no control. If this is His will then all the police in the world won’t be able to stop it.”

If Reanne had run away, Jess could definitely see why. “Amen.”

Wells broke the huddle with Harper and headed down the line of white linen-draped tables that ended with the one crowned with the punch bowl.

Jess patted Lorraine Parsons on the shoulder. She summoned the expected words. “I’ll keep y’all in my prayers.”

She hurried away to prevent the detective’s interception in front of Parsons.

“The York family left immediately after the service,” Wells told her. “Mrs. York lost it and her husband felt it best to get her home.” She glanced past Jess’s shoulder. “You talked to Mrs. Parsons.”

Jess wrapped an arm around the detective’s and ushered her into the crowd. “I need someone watching the Parsons’ home. Right now. Can you get that done without going through Chief Patterson?”

“I can but,” Wells took a visual of the crowd, no doubt searching for the chief from Tuscaloosa, “there’ll be hell to pay when he finds out. He goes to church with the Parsons.” Wells turned those oval-shaped green eyes on Jess. “You haven’t been gone so long that you’ve forgotten what we’re dealing with here, have you?”

Jess turned her attention to the man in question. Patterson was one of the good old boys. “No need to worry, detective. I know exactly what you mean.” She gave Wells a nod. “I’m giving you a direct order. The fallout will be on me.”

Wells didn’t question whether Jess had the authority to give such an order she pulled out her cell and made the call.

Jess left her to it and drifted into the crowd. Like a sponge, she intended to soak up every conversation within earshot. And to absorb every visual detail in the room—particularly the one playing out near the side exit. Burnett and Mr. Denton looked deep in conversation and like the one she’d observed between Wells and Harper. Jess doubted it had a hell of a lot to do with official police business.