each word. “Leah and Sarah are all the family I have left. I’m glad my call to the mayor produced results because Sheriff Reed wasn’t doing anything.”
Sam folded his long length into a chair across from the couch and took out his notepad. “Tell me about the day Leah dropped off Sarah for you to watch her.”
Clint stared toward the entry hall as though Leah were still standing there with Sarah and he could erase the past thirty hours. “The last time I saw my sister, she was acting a little strange. She was fidgety and talking fast as though she was anxious or afraid of something. At the time I thought it was because of Earl’s suicide, but now I don’t know. I should have questioned my sister more before she left.”
“What did she say to you?”
Another long pause, then Clint swung his attention to Sam. “She said she had some business to take care of and wouldn’t be gone long. She was worried that Sarah had seen something when Earl killed himself. When she said the word business, she said it with such firmness. I got the feeling she was confirming something in her mind.”
“She didn’t say who she was meeting or what Sarah had seen?”
“No, and before I could ask, she kissed Sarah goodbye and thrust her into my arms, then hurried away.” Clint dragged his hand through his hair. “I thought at first she was just running late, but when she didn’t come back to pick up Sarah, I knew something was wrong. I’ve called her cell phone repeatedly, but it goes straight to voice mail.”
“What did you do next?”
“I called her friends, the hospital, highway patrol and the sheriff after putting Sarah down early last night. I didn’t want her to know what was going on.”
“There’s nothing else?”
Again he plowed his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished there was something else. A lead. A hint. Anything.”
Sam pulled a business card from his inside coat pocket. “If you remember anything else, please call me. That’s my cell number. I’m setting up an office at the sheriff’s station. I’ll be staying at the Loomis Hotel while working on this case.”
Clint flinched at the word case.
“I’ll find your sister,” Sam said. What he didn’t add was that when he found Leah, he couldn’t guarantee she would still be alive. But Sam would find her—one way or the other. He never wanted a family to go through what his had—what Sam still went through when he allowed himself to remember.
When Jocelyn entered Clint’s spare bedroom upstairs tucked under the eaves, she noticed the profusion of toys and items that had to belong to Sarah since Clint was single and childless. Next to the double bed sat a box of dolls with their accessories. Perfect.
Jocelyn sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor and patted the area rug beside her for Sarah to join her. “I’ve seen you playing with a couple of these. Will you tell me their names?”
Sarah’s eyes brightened as she plopped next to Jocelyn. She carefully laid her pink ballerina blanket down on the rug, then picked up the top doll. “Madison.” The child hugged the blond-haired baby to her chest.
“Which one is your favorite?”
Sarah rummaged in the box until she pulled out a doll with red hair. Her wide gaze fixed on the baby’s head.
Suddenly the child paled and dropped it. Screams erupted from her while tears welled in her green eyes.
TWO
Shocked for a second from the abrupt change in Sarah, Jocelyn froze, then suddenly scooped the little girl into her arms. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Instead of replying, Sarah just shook her head and cried, most unusual for a child who usually talked nonstop. The three-year-old had her face against Jocelyn’s neck and clenched her tightly. Sarah’s sobs continued, the sound muffled against Jocelyn’s shoulder.
“Sarah, it’s okay. You’re safe,” she said in a calm, soothing voice while she stroked the child’s back.
The door pushed open as Sarah wailed, “Don’t like. Don’t like.”
Clint started across the bedroom. Jocelyn stopped him with a raised hand and a small shake of her head. Sam stayed by the entrance, his expression stoic. That was the man she’d gotten to know in New Orleans and had finally come to the conclusion she couldn’t break through his barriers.
“Honey, what don’t you like?” The soft touch of Jocelyn’s hand and her steady tone helped Sarah begin to calm down.
The young girl lifted her head and through blurry eyes stared at Jocelyn. Her breath wavered as she drew in air, and she sniffled.
Jocelyn waited, aware of Clint hovering close, concern puckering his brow.
“Don’t like Ashley now.” Sarah raised a trembling hand and pointed at the doll lying on the top.
“Why don’t you like Ashley?”
Sniveling, the child popped her thumb into her mouth and lowered her head.
“Sarah?”
“Just don’t,” the little girl mumbled, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“That’s okay. I can put Ashley away, and you won’t have to see her.” Jocelyn reached around Sarah for the doll, but her uncle picked it up first and stuffed it under the other toys in the box, then hefted the container.
“Princess, I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to see Ashley anymore.”
The child watched her uncle take his load out into the hallway. He returned a few seconds later, his arms empty. Sarah leaped to her feet and raced across the room, propelling herself at him.
Clint swept the three-year-old into his embrace. “Why don’t I read you a story?”
“I want Mommy. Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s gone away on business, but she wanted me to take care of you until she came home.” Smoothing the child’s blond hair from her face, Clint moved toward the bed and placed his niece on the rose-colored coverlet.
As he twisted around, Jocelyn stepped closer and murmured, “If you need me, call anytime, day or night. I’ll come right over. I’ll talk to you later.”
He nodded once, then picked up Winnie-the-Pooh on the nightstand and sat beside his niece.
Jocelyn backed up toward the entrance, hesitating at the door. She didn’t want to leave, but Clint needed time with Sarah. She’d phone in a while and try to persuade him to let her see the little girl again. Everything wasn’t fine with Sarah. Supposedly she’d been in her room sleeping when Earl killed himself downstairs. But what if she hadn’t? What could she have seen? And why, all of sudden, didn’t she like her favorite doll?
Outside on the porch Sam grasped Jocelyn’s arm, stopping her procession to the sidewalk. She stiffened at the touch, so familiar
