He produced a smile gentler than she would have imagined him capable of. “There’s a small conference room back here. We can talk there.” He stepped back and gestured toward the swinging door that led behind the long counter.
She studied it warily, then the police officer behind the counter who had also been watching her. Finally she pretended a confidence she didn’t feel and walked forward.
Although Detective Chandler followed, he kept a certain distance between them she appreciated. She was afraid she’d given away her irrational panic, and that scared her. If she had one skill in life, it was an ability to hide all the craziness she carried inside.
She hesitated until he waved her toward a hallway, and then she stepped back while he opened the first door, glass-paned to allow passersby to look in.
“Please, have a seat,” he said.
She took the first chair, the closest to the door. It also offered the advantage that nobody going by could see her face.
He circled the table and sat across from her, then did nothing but look at her for long enough to have her fidgeting. Finally, he gave his head a faint, incredulous shake.
“I assume you’re here because you saw the picture,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Just out of curiosity, where did you come across it? Were you searching for information about your background?”
“No,” Bailey said flatly. “A total stranger thought she knew me, then remembered a story she’d seen online about this little girl who was abducted. She said someone had come up with a picture of what that little girl would look like now, and I was right on.”
He winced.
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve read or heard that these past several months. Except usually they say we got the nose or the chin or the eyes wrong.” The shock in his eyes was back. “We didn’t.”
Much as she’d like to, she couldn’t deny that.
“So, you went online to see if this total stranger was right,” he prompted.
“I did.”
“And made the decision to come to Stimson.”
“Actually,” she said coolly, “that was a month ago. In fact, I made the decision to pretend I’d never seen it. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had any interest in finding out where I came from.”
Instead of appearing shocked or disapproving, he studied her with interest. “You didn’t believe anyone out there cared.”
“No, I didn’t.” Her usual breezy persona was failing her. She was coming across as hard. No, brittle. Probably unlikable. Yeah, so what? I am unlikable. “Let’s be honest, Detective. Even if you run a DNA test and it’s a match to Hope Lawson, I am not her.” She leaned forward, her gaze boring into his, her voice rising despite herself. “Do you understand? I can’t be her. I don’t intend even to try.”
He raised dark eyebrows. “And yet you’re here.”
And there was the conundrum.
“I suppose, in the end, curiosity got to me. Also...” She frowned. This was the part she didn’t understand. She thought of herself as utterly self-centered. Life hadn’t taught her to be anything else.
“Also?” he prodded, that deep voice now easygoing, undemanding. He was going out of his way not to put pressure on her, because he’d read her with unerring accuracy.
“I suppose I thought it might mean something to these people. I mean, if they’re still searching for—” Oops. She’d almost said me. “Hope,” she substituted.
“Never knowing what happened to someone you love is incredibly hard.” That sounded personal, as if he had lost a loved one. “Worse than seeing her murdered. Worse than burying her. Actually seeing you, knowing you are alive and well, will mean everything to the Lawsons.”
“You’re assuming I am Hope.” She made it a challenge.
“We’ll definitely run a DNA test, if you’re willing.” He waited for her nod. “Unfortunately, dental records won’t be helpful. At the time of your disappearance, you were only beginning to get your first adult teeth. However, Hope did have a birthmark.”
Bailey flinched. She hadn’t seen mention of that.
“It’s a small detail held back after your disappearance. DNA matching was then in its infancy.”
She nodded. He waited. Finally she sighed. “I have one on my left hip. It’s...sort of heart shaped.”
“May I see it?”
“Here?”
“Why not?”
He was right. She certainly wasn’t a shrinking virgin. After a moment, she stood, went around the table, unbuttoned and unzipped her chinos, and pushed them down enough to reveal the waistband of her panties—and the tiny, dark heart that always intrigued guys and disturbed her. She used to wonder if it was a brand he had put on her.
Detective Chandler looked for a moment that stretched and had her heart beating hard and fast. His expression never changed—but she also wasn’t surprised to see that his pupils had dilated when he finally lifted his head. They stared at each other, and she thought, Don’t let him want me. Because she was tempted? No, no, no. Because it would be incredibly unrewarding for him. Men...well, she didn’t do men. Not anymore.
She fumbled hastily to fasten her chinos. When she looked at him again, his crooked smile sent a jolt through her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hope Lawson,” he said.
“Just...don’t call me that.”
“All right.” There was that astonishing gentleness again. “Bailey it is. Unless you prefer Ms. Smith?”
“Either is fine.” She retreated to her side of the table. “Thank you, Detective.”
“If you’re going to be Bailey, I’ll be Seth.”
The flutter in her belly wouldn’t let her respond to that. We’re not friends, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to alienate him, either. This desire to cling to him was completely unfamiliar to her.
“Can you tell me what you remember?” he asked.
She had known he would ask but had hoped for a reprieve. Still, maybe it was better to get this over with.
“If you mean about this town or the Lawsons or...” She stopped. “Nothing. I think he punished me if I asked questions or said anything about...about home. So I forgot. He made me call him Daddy.”
Seth Chandler’s face hardened. “He’s the one who snatched you.”
