hope so,” Peyton exclaimed.
The next couple of hours passed in agonizing slowness. Peyton sat on the sofa looking as if a loud noise might shatter her. Rick sat next to her, but at no time did the two touch in any way.
Tom found their relationship rather intriguing. Was their lack of physical touch an indication that their relationship hadn’t had the mutual easy ending that both of them had implied? And what, if anything, might that have to do with the case?
Throughout the evening, Tom coordinated efforts to find the baby, speaking to his deputies by cell phone to keep updated. As night fell, Tom didn’t expect anything to happen. People were in their homes, getting ready for bed, and wouldn’t see the flyers until morning.
Rick must have recognized the same thing. At ten-thirty he stood. “I checked into the hotel downtown when I arrived. I think I’ll head over there for the rest of the night. I’m in room 112. Somebody will let me know if anything happens?”
“Of course,” Tom replied, vaguely surprised by his decision to leave.
Rick reached down and grabbed Peyton’s hand. “Stay strong,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll have her back tomorrow.” He dropped her hand and with a nod to Tom left the house.
Almost immediately, Peyton got up from the sofa and went to the front window. She stared out with her back to Tom, and he was struck by how alone, how achingly fragile, she looked.
“Do you have children, Tom?” She didn’t turn to face him but remained staring out the window into the darkness of the night.
“No wife, no kids,” he replied. He stepped closer to her, close enough that he could smell the pleasant scent of her perfume.
“So you can’t know what this feels like.” She turned to face him and raw pain radiated from her eyes.
“No, I can’t know exactly what it feels like,” he said softly.
“I feel like Kathy reached inside my chest and ripped my heart out.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Nothing matters except Lilly. I need her back, Tom. I need her back in my arms.” A deep sob exploded out of her and she nearly crumpled to the floor.
Before she could, Tom reached out for her and pulled her tight against his chest. She sagged against him and buried her face in the front of his shirt while she cried.
He wrapped his arms around her and held tight, knowing it was the only comfort he could offer her at the moment. As he held her he went over it all in his mind, satisfying himself that everything that could be done was being done.
Now it became a waiting game. Hopefully somebody knew this woman who had called herself Kathy Simon, somebody who would call with information that would lead them to her and the baby.
But the last time Tom had held a weeping woman in his arms, everything had ended badly. Tragedy had pulled her away from him, and he’d nearly been destroyed.
He hoped at the end of all this that Peyton would have her baby safely back in her arms. He hadn’t been strong enough to help one woman deal with grief, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to help Peyton.
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