Thread of Fear Page 5

  “Am I looking at any kind of deadline here?” I asked.

  Anchor took a moment to respond. “Not really. I'd just ask that you work diligently. The sooner he's found, the better. But I don't have any particular date or timeframe in mind.” He paused. “I'm confident you'll be able to locate him soon enough.”

  I wasn't sure whether he was actually complimenting my skills or whether it was a subtle hint that he'd be expecting results soon. Either way, I knew that the only way to really extricate myself from Anchor's reach would be to find Dennison.

  Anchor reached inside his jacket again and produced a key card. It was white, brand new, no markings or logos on it. He slid it across the table. “As I mentioned, I've arranged a suite for you. Are you familiar with the hotels in Vegas?”

  “A little.”

  “Your suite is private, with a separate entrance and a private concierge,” he said. He named the hotel, one I recognized as one of the most expensive in Vegas. “This card will give you full access. And if you have any issues, please call me immediately.”

  I took the card off the table and stood. I pulled out my wallet, slipped it into one of the pockets and put my wallet back in my jeans.

  “Alright,” I said to John Anchor. “I'll be in touch.”

  It wasn't alright, though. Nothing about it was alright. But I didn't have a choice.

  ELEVEN

  “Go!” Elizabeth said.

  We'd developed a routine in our runs, where several times a week, we'd sprint the last two hundred or so yards to the house. A hard way to finish a hard run, but also a way to build strength for the next time.

  She took off and I tried to keep up with her. Her long legs turned over gracefully, her arms pumping, pulling her along. For someone who'd had no formal training, she looked like a natural when she really started moving.

  Me, I looked like a middle-aged guy who was trying to keep up with his teenage daughter.

  And failing.

  She gradually pulled away from me, her stride lengthening as she seemed to gather speed and I struggled to maintain what little I had. My lungs burned, my legs filled with lead and my feet felt heavy. She never turned to check on me, just focused on getting to the driveway. She only slowed once she hit it.

  She was already turned around, her hands on her head, her cheeks pink by the time I finally reached her. I immediately stopped, my mouth wide open, my eyes watering and bent over at the waist.

  “Thought we weren't supposed to bend over,” she said, walking in a small circle, still breathing hard. “You said air can't get to the lungs.”

  “Don't need air,” I gasped. “Gonna die, anyway.”

  She laughed and continued walking in the circle.

  Sweat dripped from my face onto the pavement as I sucked in air.

  “Maybe we shouldn't sprint anymore,” she said.

  I forced myself to stand up and got my hands on top of my head, my mouth still wide open, my chest heaving. “I'll be fine.”

  She arched an eyebrow at me. “I mean, I could always run in and you could just jog. Or walk.” A smile twitched on her lips. She definitely had Lauren's ability to stick the needle in me when she wanted to.

  “I will beat you next time,” I lied.

  “I'm not giving you a head start.”

  “I'm not asking for one.”

  “Then there's no way you can beat me.”

  “We'll see.”

  She rolled her eyes and dropped her hands from her head. Other than the color in her cheeks, she barely looked like she'd exerted herself over the hour we'd been out. I was pretty sure that anyone that saw me would've assumed I'd just ran about sixty miles.

  “You didn't talk much today,” she said, shaking out her arms and legs as she moved, keeping her muscles loose.

  “No?”

  She shook her head, her ponytail twisting with her. “No. Usually you ask me about school and stuff. But you didn't ask me anything today.”

  “Maybe I was giving you a break,” I said, squinting at her, sweat stinging my eyes. The sun was a muted orange as it dipped below the houses and the breeze was cool against my heated skin.

  “Is it this new thing you're working on?” she asked, ignoring my weak attempt to put her off.

  I took a couple of deep breaths, my heart finally setting back into my chase. I didn't want to worry her, but I also didn't want to lie to her. Lauren and I had worked hard to be honest with her since she'd been home, especially about things that were hard to be honest about. Our divorce. How we each handled her being gone. Those kinds of things that didn't always offer up easy answers. But we'd made a commitment to be honest with her, so that she'd know exactly what we'd been through, what we were thinking and so that she'd never think we were hiding anything from her.

  But the thing with Anchor, this thing I'd been asked to do, was something I couldn't share with anyone. And I didn't want to think about it, not when I was with Elizabeth. Not when life was finally supposed to be good, free of complications.

  “Yeah, probably,” I said, letting my hands fall from the top of my head. “Probably.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just someone that's missing,” I told her. “I need to find him.”

  “Like me?”

  I shook my head. “No. I told you. I can't do that kind of thing anymore. I don't want to. That chapter is over.”

  “But it's someone who's missing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you have to look for them.”

  I wasn't exasperated by her questions but I wanted to put a quick end to them. “Yeah.”

  “But not a kid.”

  “An adult,” I said. “He's just disappeared.”

  She sat down on the grass, stretching her legs out. “Here? In San Diego?”

  I hesitated, then shook my head. “No, he's from Las Vegas. But no one knows where he is.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then wiped a loose strand of hair away from her face. “So then you might be gone?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Not for long, though. I've already told your mom, if I have to go anywhere, I won't be gone long and I'll come home the second either of you need me.”

  She nodded and looked down at her knees.

  “What?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Nothing meant something, especially with her. “Elizabeth. Say it.”

  She sighed, her shoulders falling a bit. “It makes me uncomfortable that you might be gone.” She frowned. “That's how I'm supposed to say it, right? It makes me blank that blank. Isn't that what the therapist said? To express my feelings or whatever?”

  She'd struggled with the therapist at times, finding it all a little too simplistic for her tastes. She complained about what she thought were silly exercises that she saw no point in doing and she regularly lamented the emphasis her therapist put on phrasing things so that people would know exactly what she was thinking.

  “Yeah, that's how you're supposed to say it,” I said, sitting down next to her. The grass tickled the backs of my calves. “Why does it make you uncomfortable that I might be gone?”

  She hugged her knees to her chest. “I don't know.”

  “Not an answer I can do much with.”

  She sighed again. “Fine. It makes me uncomfortable because I like it when you're around. I feel safe. And not that Mom doesn't make me feel safe. It's just... different.”

  “Why?”

  She pinched a blade grass between her thumb and finger, then tossed it into the breeze. “Because you were the one that came and got me. You came through that door and got me. You told me I'd be okay.” She paused, pulling up another piece of grass. “It's stupid, I guess. I was just scared... and then I wasn't. Because you were there.”

  My fingers closed over a handful of grass and I resisted the urge to tug on it, to wrench the clump out of the ground. “Do you still get scared?”

  She chuckled. She straightened her legs and
ran her hands down her thighs. “The other day at school,” she said. “I had to use the bathroom in the middle of class. So I got a pass from the teacher and went. It's the middle of the period so the halls are empty. I'm on my way back and almost to my class and this door opens right in front of me and this kid comes jogging out of it.” She swallowed. “I jumped against the lockers. Because for some reason I thought he was coming for me. He wasn't. Duh. He just looked at me like I was insane and jogged right by me. To the bathroom.” She shook her head. “I had to peel myself off the locker once I stopped shaking. So stupid.”

  My heart jumped into my throat and I touched her arm. “It's not stupid.”

  “It kinda is.”

  “No. I think that's pretty damn normal for someone that's gone through what you've gone through.”

  She made a face and shrugged. “Maybe. But it doesn't make it feel any better when it happens. I just want it go away.”

  “It will. At some point.”

  “I guess.” She tossed another blade of grass into the breeze. “Anyway. It just feels better when you're here.”

  I would never get tired of hearing that, in whatever small way, I made her life better. Because even though I knew she belonged there with me and Lauren, with her real family, her real parents, there was always a small part of me that worried about the consequences of bringing her home, of uprooting her from the family she'd come to think of as her own.

  “I won't be gone long,” I said. “I promise. And you can call me if you need me.”

  She squinted at me. “Are you gonna do this forever?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look for people. Or be an investigator. Whatever you call it.”

  “I'm not sure. But I don't think so, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it's hard,” I told her. “Because it takes a lot of energy and a lot of time and I'd rather spend the time and energy here at home.”

  “But you have to have a job, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So then we have to find you a new job,” she said. I liked that she said 'we,' that she included herself in the equation.

  “Yeah. But not as a professional runner.”

  She laughed. “No, definitely not. But something.” She pulled up some more of the grass. “I'll make a list.”

  “A list?”

  “Of jobs for you,” she said. “That you can do here.”

  It was painfully obvious that she didn't want me doing the investigating anymore. She was coming just short of saying it. I understood why, though. And I understood why Lauren felt the same way. The amount of energy and attention my job required had the potential to impact my time with them. She had already reached that conclusion and she was right; after all, I'd just told her I'd be leaving for Las Vegas. But I just wasn't sure what else I was good at. I'd been a cop before Elizabeth was taken and I sure as hell wasn't going to go back to that.

  “Let me know,” I said, standing. My muscles had already tightened and I shook my legs, trying to loosen them up.

  She squinted at me again as she pushed herself off of the grass. “Let you know what?”

  I put my arm around and pulled her close to me as we walked to the front door. “What jobs you come up with.”

  TWELVE

  “You are not being you,” Lauren observed.

  Elizabeth and I had gone in from our run and cleaned up. I'd thrown chicken and asparagus on the grill and it was nearly done by the time Lauren got home from work. I put together a salad while the food finished on the grill and the three of us had a perfectly pleasant dinner together. Elizabeth complained about the math homework she had to do and Lauren told us about a long, drawn out case that she was finally able to settle and was thrilled to be done with. I stayed quiet, the conversation with Anchor on constant replay in my mind as I half-listened to them talk.

  I'd offered to clear the table, letting them chat while I did the dishes and wiped down the grill. Elizabeth went up to her room to work on the math homework and Lauren was nestled on the couch when I came in from the patio. She'd switched into black yoga pants and a soft green t-shirt that hugged her swelling stomach. Her feet were propped on the coffee table and an unopened case file sat next to her on the cushions.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, stopping at the kitchen sink to wash the grease off my hands.

  “You were very quiet at dinner,” she said. “Not a single word from you, I don't think.”

  “I was just listening.”

  “Joe.”

  I grabbed the towel hanging from the oven and dried my hands, then walked into the living room. “What?”

  She frowned at me and tilted her head to the side, her way of letting me know that she wasn't buying my act.

  I sat down on the couch next to her, the case file on the cushion between us. I took a deep breath and then told her. “I'm going to Las Vegas tomorrow. In the morning.”

  She pursed her lips, then nodded. “Okay. For how long?”

  “One night at the most,” I said. “If I can come back tomorrow night, I will.”

  “You won't come back tomorrow night,” she said, frowning again. “You won't be done that fast.”

  “Even if I'm not done, I'm not staying more than one night,” I said. “I told Dennison that I'd be going back and forth, that I wasn't going to camp out.” I didn't tell her that Kathleen Dennison wasn't directing the action in the case anymore.

  “But you might have to go back again.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So you're just going to drive back and forth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That seems silly.”

  “So does being gone for a week,” I said. “And I don't want to be gone for that long. I told you I wouldn't be and I meant it. And Elizabeth already said she wasn't comfortable with my being gone.”

  She looked at me. “What did she say?”

  I told her about our conversation after our run.

  Her expression softened. “She jumped into a locker?”

  “Against, not into. And she was startled,” I said. “She was alone. It makes sense. There's nothing abnormal about it.”

  She leaned her head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I know it's normal. I just feel bad. That she has those kinds of reactions.”

  “She's going to have them for awhile,” I said. I reached out and ran my hand over Lauren's hair. It was silky and smooth and I threaded my fingers through it. “And, to be honest, I think we're lucky she's settled in as well as she has. It's not always this easy. It's usually harder than hell.”

  “I know,” she said. She closed her eyes. “I just want it to be...I don't know.”

  “Perfect,” I said. I knew because it was what I wanted, too. “You want it to be perfect for her.”

  She opened her eyes and rotated her head in my direction. “Yeah, I guess. Isn't that what you want for her?”

  “Of course, but it's impossible,” I said. I knew because I was about as far from perfect as I could possibly be. “We can't change what she went through and we can't change how she processes it all.”

  “Mr. Pragmatic.”

  “We don't have any other choice,” I said. “Do I wish she didn't freak when some kid startles her in the hallway at school? Yeah, of course. But better that than have her say she refuses to go school. Better that than her being afraid of every little thing. And if you want the real silver lining, it's that she told me about it. She didn't keep it inside and internalize it. She shared it.” I looked at Lauren. “That's a really good sign.”

  Lauren sighed and pulled a throw pillow onto her lap. “I know. I just hate that she has to deal with all that.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “And I'll look for another job when I'm done with this Dennison thing.” That was the truth. I didn't want to look for another missing person ever again, especially with the new stipulations I'd been given.

  “What kind?”

  �
��I don't know. She's making me a list.”

  Lauren laughed. “I'm serious.”

  “I am, too,” I said. “I don't care. I'll drive garbage trucks. I'll work at the grocery store. I don't care. But I just don't want either of you worrying that I'm not going to come back or something.”

  I regretted the words once I'd said them. Not just because we'd lost Elizabeth so long ago, had defined our lives by that moment in time, but because I was on the verge of creating that same situation for someone else. Someone who had asked me to help their missing loved one.

  “It's not that you won't come back,” she said. “It's that you're gone at all. We both like having you here.”

  “I know,” I said, twisting to look at her. “So I need to be here. So hopefully she'll come up with some good jobs for me.”

  Lauren laughed again. “Yes. Hopefully it will be things you can actually do.” She reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers. “Alright. So you're leaving tomorrow. And at most you'll be gone twenty-four hours.”

  I nodded and squeezed her hand. “Yes.”

  “I can deal with that. I think. Do you think you'll be able to find him fast?”

  I thought for a second. Part of me hoped I'd never find him, or that the trail was cold and would take weeks or months or years, but that wasn't an answer I could give Lauren. “I honestly don't know. I did some early checking this morning and didn't find anything. He either really knows how to hide or something bad has happened to him. So I'll go to Vegas and start poking around, talk to people, see if I can figure out where he might've gone.”

  “And why he disappeared, right?”

  I was pretty sure I knew why Patrick Dennison had disappeared. I might not have had all the details but with Anchor's interest in him and the request that had been made, I had a good idea. I tried to ignore the guilt that was sitting squarely on my shoulders as I purposely didn't tell her about Anchor. Telling Lauren about meeting with him would just up her anxiety level and there was nothing I'd be able to do to quell that. She didn't need the stress. If it became necessary to tell her, I would. But until then, I was just going to live with the guilt.