longer and lighter and her skin tanned as if she spent more time in the sun now. Of course six years ago she had been so focused on school—her first year of med school—that she’d no time for the sun or relaxation or her friends and family.
Until her sister had disappeared.
“You have to leave,” she said as she shoved on his chest again.
Already light-headed from the concussion, he stumbled back a step. To steady himself, he reached out and clasped her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened as she stared up at him. The urge to pull her closer overwhelmed him. It had been so long since he had held her that he ached to hold her again.
But that wasn’t why he had risked getting the door slammed in his face—or getting shoved out of her house. “There’s a girl missing,” he reminded her. “Her family is going crazy with fear.”
They had gone even crazier when he’d asked them about Lexi Drummond. Amy’s mother had gotten hysterical, hyperventilating so badly that they’d had to call for an ambulance. Her dad had been trying hard to hold his wife together even as he began to fall apart himself, shaking uncontrollably. Amy’s fiancé was the only one who’d managed to voice their fears aloud. “He has her then—that sick bastard who kills brides. She’s probably already dead!” And then the man, a big burly former college linebacker, had dropped to his knees and dissolved into broken sobs.
Jared released a ragged breath and repeated, “They’re going crazy with fear.” More so because of him, because he had taken away some of the hope they’d desperately been clinging to.
“Just like I went crazy,” she murmured.
She hadn’t gone crazy, but she’d certainly been upset and vulnerable. And he would never forgive himself for taking advantage of that vulnerability—of her.
“You know what they’re going through,” he said.
“I can empathize,” she said.
“You can help.”
She shook her head. “I tried to help six years ago. I told you who killed Lexi, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“It’s not him, Bec—Rebecca,” he said. He wished it had been. But the guy had had an ironclad alibi.
She sighed. “You wasted your time coming here,” she said, “if you’re still not going to listen to me.”
“All I want is for you to look at the picture and tell me how Lexi knew Amy Wilcox.” That was a lie. He wanted more—much more from Becca than that. But he had no right to expect or ask for anything from her—not even information.
She had barely looked at the picture. So he held it out to her again. But she had barely looked at him, either. Instead, she kept glancing over his head.
He was surprised to find her here—in Wisconsin and so close to where her sister’s car had been found. He’d thought for sure she would have wound up in another state—maybe even in another country—for her medical residency. Instead, she lived just down the road from the wooded area that law enforcement and search teams had torn apart looking for Lexi.
To no avail...
He glanced behind him, where she kept looking, and noticed the clock on the wall. Large metal hands moved across the surface of a barn picture, like a weather vane moving in the wind. Her house was cute—a sunshine-filled ranch with bright colors—like something that would’ve been featured in a country living magazine. He hadn’t pictured Becca winding up living in the country.
She’d wanted to do her residency in a big city. A bigger life than the small town where she’d grown up—just like Lexi had wanted.
She tore her gaze from the clock to focus on the photo. But not him.
Couldn’t she even stand to look at him? Had he hurt her that badly? Guilt clutched his heart, like her palm still clutched his chest. Instead of pushing him away, her hand held on to his coat and shirt—as if she needed some sort of support to look at the photo again.
“I’ve seen her face on the news,” she said. “But that’s the only place I remember seeing Amy Wilcox before.”
“We can look into their pasts—see how they’re connected. You can help me,” he urged her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know how she knew Lexi. But then again I was gone so much—for college and med school—that I didn’t know all of her friends. And Lexi was always making friends.” She smiled wistfully—sadly. “Everybody wanted to be her friend.”
Six years had passed, but it didn’t appear that Becca’s pain had lessened any. Her loss seemed as fresh and painful as it had when Lexi had first disappeared. She had loved her sister so much.
Regret clenched Jared’s heart—regret that he had hurt her. And regret that his being here was hurting her again. He shouldn’t have come. She wasn’t the only one he could have asked about Lexi.
“Do your parents still have your sister’s things?” he asked. He could talk to them instead. Maybe they would have something of Lexi’s—her journals or photos—that would explain her connection to Amy Wilcox and maybe lead him to a suspect that they had both known.
Or at least the suspect had known both of them. Maybe they’d been unaware of him. Jared had apprehended many suspects whose victims had never officially met them. They hadn’t even been aware that they were being followed.
“No,” Becca replied shortly, dashing his hopes.
He cursed. But he wasn’t surprised.
While some people kept shrines to their lost loved ones, leaving their things exactly as that person had left them, others removed every trace of them—as if that could make them forget their loss and pain. Her parents had been so broken and devastated that they hadn’t been able to talk to him or any of the other authorities. That was how he’d gotten so close to Becca—she had spoken for all of them, for her parents and for her missing sister.
“They couldn’t handle any reminders of her,” she said with a trace of resentment.
Had Becca been a reminder of her sister, too? Had they removed her from their lives, too? It might explain why she had settled in Wisconsin instead of the farm town where she’d grown up in Ohio—where her parents probably still lived unless that reminded them too much of Lexi, too.
“So I have her things,” Becca said matter-of-factly. She wouldn’t have wanted to forget her sister—no matter how much pain that loss caused her. She was incredibly strong; she had been strong six years ago—except for when she’d turned to him for comfort and support.
And oblivion. She’d told him she’d needed to think about something other than Lexi. Or actually that she’d needed to not think at all for a while. That was why she’d made love with him. He hadn’t had any excuse—except that he had been weak—too weak to fight his overwhelming attraction to her.
The attraction he still felt for her. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about how she’d felt in his arms, how sweet her lips had tasted. He had to focus instead on the case.
So he breathed a sigh of relief that all leads
