even on this relatively mild day, were long and slender, tipped with nails cut short; no fancy manicures for this woman who dealt with washing animals every day.
Crazy, he thought. The most common complaint about women he’d heard from his buddies in the corps was that they never stopped talking. And here he couldn’t get this one to start. Whether that was a reflection on her, or himself, he wasn’t sure.
He was contemplating pressing harder when Cutter intervened. As if he’d sensed the lull in the conversation was a problem, the dog had roused from his nap in the sun. He looked at them both consideringly, then got to his feet and padded quietly over to Laney. He rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. In a move that seemed and probably was automatic, Laney began to stroke his dark head.
“You are so warm from the sun,” she said to him. “That must feel good.”
The dog stared at her until she gave an odd little shake of her head. Teague knew just how she felt. He’d been on the receiving end of that steady gaze himself, and he knew the odd feeling it gave you.
“You might as well tell me,” he said after a final taste of the flavorful drink. “He’s not going to let go until you do.”
“Is that what you think he’s doing? Trying to compel me?”
“I know it is. I’ve seen him do it too many times. He’s done it to me.”
“Giving him a bit too much credit, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Teague said wryly. “My boss is the biggest skeptic on the planet, save maybe one—well, two—and even he thinks there’s something uncanny about that dog.”
“I can’t deny he’s clever—”
“Oh, it goes way beyond clever. I could tell you stories,” Teague said. “But I promise you, he’s not going away until you talk about what’s bothering you.”
She looked from him to Cutter, then back.
“I know you don’t know me, not enough to trust me. But you can trust him.”
“I know.”
“So talk to me. You need to talk to somebody.” When she still didn’t answer, he leaned back in his chair. “I could call Hayley. Would you talk to her?”
“Oh, don’t do that. I know she’s busy, or she would have come for him herself.”
“Yes. But she trusts me with him.”
Her head came up then, and he sensed he’d finally hit the right words. “Yes,” she said softly, “she does.”
Again he stayed silent, thinking that pushing harder at this instant would be the wrong thing to do. He’d learned from Cutter that sometimes the best thing to do was just stare them down and wait.
“It’s my best friend,” Laney finally said in a rush, and before he processed the words Teague allowed himself a split second of satisfaction. “Amber. Amber Logan.”
“Pretty name.”
“Yes. And it fits her.” She gestured back toward the shop. “She’s a graphic artist. She did the paintings here.”
“I noticed those. Cute. She’s good.”
“Yes. She is.” He saw her mouth tighten slightly.
“Has she done something?” he asked. “Gotten in trouble?”
“I think...” Her voice trailed off. She drew in a deep breath and started again. “The police don’t believe it, even her folks don’t believe it, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s very, very wrong.”
The police? That kicked it into an entirely different category in Teague’s mind. He leaned forward, sensing she was on the verge of either blurting it out or withdrawing altogether.
“Wrong how?”
She met his gaze, held it. She was committed now, he could feel it.
“I think she’s been abducted.”
Chapter 3
Relief was obvious on Laney’s face as the words finally came out. She looked as if having someone listen to her without that doubt in their eyes, without that expression that told her they were merely humoring her and couldn’t wait to move on, was nearly overwhelming.
She proved his guess right with her next words, spoken fervently.
“You don’t know how much time I’ve spent every day trying to make myself believe that they’re all right, that there’s nothing wrong, that Amber’s just fine and I’m being silly, with an overactive imagination.”
She also looked as if she wanted to hug him. Not something he’d particularly mind, but he wasn’t about to stray into that minefield. Not now, anyway.
“Why don’t you just tell me? Don’t worry about how it sounds, just get it all out there. Then we’ll sort it out.”
Gratitude supplanted relief on her face. She nodded, a short, sharp motion that spoke worlds about what she was feeling. Even if it really was nothing, she needed to get this out.
She continued to pet Cutter, as if she welcomed the distraction. He could almost see her turning over in her mind where to start. He opened his mouth to prod her along, then stopped; he didn’t want to sound like the police who hadn’t believed her, but coplike questions were the first thing that came to mind.
He remembered Terri once telling him she had to work up to the real problem sometimes. And you were a lot of help when she needed you, weren’t you, halfway around the world fighting for people who didn’t even want—
He broke off his own thoughts before they galloped down that old path. And grabbed the first neutral question he could think of.
“Tell me about Amber.”
“We’ve been best friends since third grade. I know her like a sister. And love her like one.”
“Is that where you met? School?” he asked.
“Yes. Ms. Waters’s class. Meanest teacher in school.” Laney looked up at him then, gave him a fleeting smile. “I don’t mean hard, or strict. I mean...mean. And Amber and I, we bonded together in surviving her.”
Now that was something he understood. “Easier to handle stuff like that if you’re not alone.”
The smile was better this time as she nodded. “We had secret meetings where we plotted her absence in various ways, from changing the number on the door of the classroom, to the address on the school. At eight, logic didn’t enter into it much.”
He smiled back. “No GPS in cars yet, so who knows?”
She laughed then, and he felt oddly pleased.
“We were best friends from the day Ms. Waters sent
