and then she looked fully into those all-seeing eyes. Her heart lurched at what she saw there. Something more than the sympathy he wanted her to see. And then it was gone, but not quite quickly enough.
He still cared for her and, damn it, that only made bad matters worse.
“I want you to start at the beginning,” he said in that deep, husky voice that made her shiver. His words were calm, quiet, as if they hadn’t lived together for three years…as if they hadn’t made love night after night all that time.
“Tell me everything,” he added, then reached into his inside coat pocket and removed a document. When he’d unfolded it and laid it on the table, he pushed it in her direction. “Make me believe that this is a mistake.”
Melany dragged her gaze from his to stare at the document. Shelby County Health Department. Certificate of Death. Katlin Jackson.
“Give me one shred of evidence that this is a mistake, Mel,” he told her, “and I swear I’ll move heaven and earth to find your daughter.”
Chapter Two
By 7:45 p.m. Ryan and Bill had commandeered a fair-sized office with two incoming lines and a fax machine. Memphis P.D. was happy to help, and to turn the case they definitely did not want over to the Feds. Bill inconspicuously passed Ryan off as an agent, as well. The usual jurisdiction battle lines went undrawn. No one wanted to touch this case. Even the press had played it soft. Minimal coverage in the papers. None of the local television channels had spent more than a perfunctory thirty seconds on Melany’s grave-digging escapade.
It was just as well, she decided. Any hype in the media could work against them. The last thing they needed were calls from people who thought they knew something when they really didn’t. She wasn’t ready for false Katlin sightings from strangers just yet. She’d worked in the investigation business long enough to know that most of the input generated by the media was useless. There were times when the media could actually be a very efficient tool, but those occasions were few and far between.
At least the local cops were no longer looking at Mel as if she was crazy. She almost smiled. Those accusations now rested firmly atop Bill’s and Ryan’s shoulders. The boys in blue merely looked at her with sympathy at this point. No doubt the possibility that the Feds were only dragging out the inevitable had been discussed by all on duty.
Mel didn’t care what they thought. All that mattered was that she finally had help. Expert help. If anyone could find Katlin, it was Ryan. Her gaze drifted in his direction. They had to find her. Soon. Mel wasn’t sure how much longer she could take the not knowing.
They had exchanged cell phone numbers for convenience and Ryan had already started a time line on a wall-mounted whiteboard. Sitting stiffly at the equipment console-turned-conference-table, Mel stared at the time line now, her abdominal muscles clenched in a familiar knot of anticipation. She knew this routine, somehow found it comforting. This was the first step and her relief was almost palpable. Bill was on the telephone getting a court order for copies of all the hospital reports related to Mel and Katlin, his voice a low, but gruff murmur. Any minute now he would snag one of the locals and make him his personal gopher.
“What can I do?” Mel’s voice sounded stark in contrast to Ryan’s silence and Bill’s quiet cadence.
Ryan stopped labeling and dating incidents and turned to her. “What?”
The trance. A familiar pang of jealousy speared through her. The Braxton trance. Whenever he took on a case he immersed himself so completely that he was barely aware of anything else around him. He blinked now, focusing on her, waiting for a response, attempting to assimilate her comment. Their relationship had never stood a chance against his work. It consumed him…defined him. Nothing or no one else mattered. If only she could tune out all else as he could, maybe the next few days wouldn’t be so bad.
“Would you like me to set up witness interviews?” she offered. She cringed at the old hurt weighting her tone. The flicker of surprise in his eyes told her he’d heard it, too. But she couldn’t just sit here…she had to do something, to help in some way. “Additional interviews,” she clarified when he only stared at her. “That’s the next logical step, right?” She stood to punctuate the question.
He scrubbed a hand over the five o’clock shadow darkening his chin as if considering her offer. “Look, Mel. You know the drill. The fact that you’re even in this room is a breach of protocol. You really—”
“Don’t even think about it, Braxton.” The hurt was gone from her tone, anger and an icy warning vibrated in its place. Bill looked up from the notes he was making, his end of the telephone conversation stumbling to a halt.
“This is my daughter.” Mel pointed to the pictures taped to the wall and stepped closer to the man she refused to be intimidated by. Glared up into those cool blue eyes without flinching, which was a pretty amazing feat considering her heart was pounding like a drum. “She’s not just some statistic in a case. She’s my flesh and blood. And you’re damned right that makes me personally involved. But the bottom line is, I don’t give a damn what it makes me. You will not shut me out. Either I help you with this investigation or I start one of my own. It’s your choice.”
He hesitated, damn him, just long enough to make her sweat.
“Start with the paramedics and any witnesses at the scene,” he ordered coolly. “I want a copy of the police report and I want to see the vehicle first thing tomorrow morning.” He didn’t miss a beat at her sharply indrawn breath. “I want to know who else was on duty in the pediatric ward when the child coded. I want to know,” he pressed, his voice harsh, demanding, “every little thing—no matter how insignificant—they did to revive her and their conclusions about what went wrong. I also want to know the name of anyone who so much as looked at her from the moment she was wheeled through the E.R. doors. Any questions?”
He wanted to scare her off. But it wouldn’t work. Mel fought to control the trembling that had started in her legs and was working its way up her rigid body. “None.”
“Good.”
He gave her his back, turning his attention once more to the time line he was so meticulously constructing. She forced herself to take two unsteady steps back to the table that served as their workstation.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. That’s right,” Bill said into the receiver as he watched her ease down into the seat across from him. “I’ll send someone over for it, ASAP.”
Melany picked up a couple of freshly sharpened number twos and dragged a yellow legal pad in her direction. She wet her lips and forced her attention to the task of list-making.
“You okay?” Bill asked quietly.
She nodded, still uncertain of her voice, then blinked back the fresh tears brimming. By God, she would not cry. Not now and give Braxton the satisfaction of thinking he’d accomplished his goal.
Bill punched in another string of numbers and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like self-righteous ass. Mel felt her lips curl upward in spite of the damned tears now spilling past her lashes.
“Ayers?” Bill barked. “What’s the name of that rookie you said we could borrow?” He listened. “Well, send him down here. I have a job for him.”
Bill hung up. No goodbye, no thank-you, just hung up. That was Bill. Mel covertly swiped her eyes, then quickly scribbled
