never bring a helpless life into this world. Not after all he’d seen. He just couldn’t do it. He’d wanted their relationship to be enough.
But it hadn’t been. She’d wanted more and he couldn’t give it to her. Wouldn’t give it to her. So she’d taken the Pill their entire relationship to keep him happy.
Ryan leaned back onto the stack of pillows. No matter how he’d tried to forget her, he couldn’t. No other woman made him feel anything even close to what he and Mel had shared. Oh, he’d tried to erase her memory. But he’d failed miserably.
Now he worked. He’d almost gotten used to going home to an empty house on the rare occasions he bothered to go home. That diversion had come with its own costs. The plants had all died. He’d had to give his dog to a neighbor. But otherwise he’d managed. Had even reached the point where he seldom thought of her more than once or twice a day.
And now this.
What had Bill been thinking when he’d called him?
He hadn’t been thinking. That much was clear. Bill loved Mel like a daughter and he intended to help her, whatever the facts indicated.
The facts all pointed to the child’s death. There was absolutely nothing to corroborate Mel’s theory.
Deep inside, in that place he kept all those messy emotions hidden away, he hoped like hell the facts were wrong. No matter who had fathered the child, he didn’t want Mel to know this kind of loss. He didn’t want her to live with this level of hurt for the rest of her life.
Close your eyes, Braxton, he ordered. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.
The instant his lids lowered, the image of Melany filled his mind. She smiled up at him, love shining in her green eyes. She was wearing that little black dress he’d liked so much. His fingers knotted in the rumpled sheet beneath him but he allowed the memories to come. Kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder. Lowering the zipper, then the silky dress. Following the path of the sensual fabric with his mouth. They’d made love over and over that night, then the light of day had brought reality back with a vengeance.
He’d asked her to marry him. She’d hesitated, begging him to change his mind about having children. He’d said no. She’d tried a dozen different ways to sway him. He hadn’t listened.
She’d cried.
He’d stood firm.
She’d packed.
He’d pretended not to notice.
Then she’d left.
He’d been certain she would come back. But she hadn’t. The months went by and she didn’t call. He’d almost lost his mind. Then the months had turned into a year and he’d faced facts. She wasn’t coming back.
He started to call once or twice…but then a new case would come up and he’d be too busy. If she’d wanted to talk to him she would have called, he’d rationalized. It was over and he’d had to come to terms with that.
It hadn’t been easy but he’d done it. At least he thought he had until he saw her again. Not one thing about her had changed. She still looked twenty-five, despite being thirty-four. She wore her hair the same…the way he liked it. The long silky strands of gold made him ache to tangle his fingers there. Having a child hadn’t changed her slender figure much, either. If anything she looked more womanly.
Had bearing that child given her that extra touch of softness, those ever so slightly fuller curves? Did the man who’d made love to her last appreciate the subtle differences? He clenched his jaw until it ached.
Ryan pushed up from the bed and paced the suddenly too-small room. He needed a long, hard run to regain his perspective. He’d been to Memphis before, three or four years ago, had stayed in this very hotel. It was a safe enough area for a late night run. At this point he didn’t really care. He had to work off these crazy mixed-up emotions and all the adrenaline surging through his body.
He pulled a pair of sweats and his running shoes from his duffel and sat them aside. Ninety seconds later, he was ready to go. He glanced at the clock—2:00 a.m. He functioned on less than two hours’ sleep most of the time. A couple of nights without any at all wouldn’t kill him.
He reached for the door. A loud knock rattled the hinges a split second before his fingers curled around the knob. Ryan tensed. He glanced at the clock again, then eased closer to the door as another knock sounded.
“It’s Bill. Get the hell up, Braxton. I’ve got something for you.”
Ryan removed the chain and jerked the door open. “What’ve you got?” he asked without preamble.
“A body.” Bill looked smug. “And it isn’t the kid’s.”
Ryan pulled him inside and shut the door. “Whose body?”
“Garland Hanes,” Bill told him.
A new surge of adrenaline pumped through Ryan’s veins. “The funeral home attendant?”
Bill nodded. “The guy who buried the empty coffin.” Bill pulled out his trusty notebook. “Apparently gave himself a third eye and a one-way ticket to hell.” He grinned. “And guess what Memphis’s finest found in the wallet he left behind?”
Ryan’s tension moved to the next level. “Just tell me what they found.”
Bill pulled a plastic evidence bag from his inside jacket pocket and waved it in front of Ryan. “A picture of a little girl. A very much alive little girl.” His grin widened. “A little girl named Katlin Jackson.”
Chapter Four
Ryan sat on the side of the bed and stared at the telephone, waiting for the minutes to tick off. Bill would call Mel this morning and explain the latest turn of events. Ryan had asked him not to mention the picture until after he had interviewed Rita Grider, the friend who identified the child’s body. He didn’t want to raise additional hope that might not pan out.
Mel would be mad as hell when she found out he’d hidden any aspect of the case from her, but it was necessary. Not only would it prevent further hurt if things didn’t turn out the right way, but it would avoid any additional distraction. Keeping her focused was difficult enough without adding another layer of false hope.
He watched as the digital clock on the bedside table next to the telephone clicked off one more minute, 7:29 a.m. He’d been up all night, hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Staying put until this morning had been almost more than he could manage. He’d wanted to view the body of the funeral home attendant, Garland Hanes. He’d wanted to scour every square inch of the scene where he’d been found. But somebody had screwed up and gone through the steps at the scene, including moving the body, before realizing the victim was tied to this case. Bill hadn’t gotten the call until after the body was already at the morgue. Taking all that into consideration going directly to the scene in the dark and rain hadn’t made much sense.
It hadn’t, however, kept Ryan from taking that run he’d decided upon before Bill’s visit. He’d run until he’d exhausted himself, thrown his damp clothes to the bathroom floor and stood under a long, hot shower. Despite the depletion of adrenaline he still hadn’t been able to sleep.
Now
