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She didn’t respond.
Angrily, James shut the closet door and slid the latch into place. Once he got her down to Mexico he would step up the training. The word no would be erased completely from her vocabulary. He would begin again, breaking her down once more so he could build her back into the girl of his dreams. Angrily, he wiped the tears from his eyes.
They would leave first thing in the morning.
James hadn’t slept much the night before, all too aware of Kelsey still in the closet. He’d heard her whimpering during the night and had kept waiting for her to ask to be let out, but she never had. He must have finally drifted to sleep around dawn, and now it was later than he’d planned, the sun already up and streaming into the bedroom window.
He got out of bed and showered. He would finish packing the car, and then he’d let Kelsey out of the closet even if she hadn’t asked by then. He was just pulling on his clothing when he heard the sound of car tires crunching up the gravel drive.
With an anxious glance at the closet, he hurried out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked quickly into the living room and peered through the window that looked out on to the front porch.
A tall man with broad shoulders was climbing out of a red car, his blond hair glinting in the autumn sunlight. He didn’t look like a cop, and anyway, they always seemed to travel in pairs, but just the same, James wasn’t taking any chances. He hurried to the door and pulled it open, stepping out onto the porch as he pulled the cabin door closed behind him.
The man appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Maybe he was just some damn salesman. James would get rid of him and then finish packing the car. He moved to the screen door as the man climbed the steps.
“Yes? Can I help you?” James said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“James Bennett?”
James’ sense of disquiet deepened, but he kept his face neutral. “Who wants to know?”
The man slipped his hand into his jacket and held out a business card. “My name is Michael Johansen. I’m a private investigator. May I come in?”
James stepped back abruptly from the screen door. “I’m sorry, what?” he said inanely.
“I won’t take much of your time.” He peered through the screen with intense blue eyes that made James uncomfortable. “Someone’s life might literally depend on it,” the man continued in a deep voice. “Just a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m awfully busy,” James said. “I’m packing up. The house is a mess—”
“We can talk right here, then.” The man squared his shoulders with determination.
James unlatched the screen door. He would answer the guy’s questions and send him on his way. The cops had closed the case on Kelsey. Maybe this guy was nosing around about something entirely different. But he had known who James was…
James stepped back as the man came onto the porch. Without invitation, the man sat on one of the porch chairs. James remained standing, his arms crossed. “What’s this all about?” he demanded.
The man pulled out a small notebook and extracted a photo from it. He held it out for James’ inspection. James took the photo, relieved to see his hand was steady. His heart was suddenly thumping high in his throat. Kelsey stared back at him—not the thin waif of a girl she’d become, but a younger, more robust version, grinning broadly for the camera.
“Kelsey,” he breathed before he realized he’d uttered a sound. He sank into a chair, unable to look away from the image.
“That’s right,” the big man said. “Kelsey Rowan. You used to work together?”
James met the guy’s intense gaze, willing himself to be calm. The man knew nothing. He was just fishing. Who the fuck hired him? He forced himself to hand the photo back to the man.
“Yes. I know she’s been missing for a while.” James hoped his expression conveyed the right amount of concern, without being overly anxious. “I thought the police had stopped the investigation. Who are you working for?”
“The police may be less focused on the case right now, but the file is still active. I’m working for Kelsey’s parents. There are some new leads. Promising leads.”
James sat straighter in the chair and pulled his lips into something approximating a smile. “That’s good news,” he forced himself to say. “So what do you want from me? I’ve been away from the bank for months.”
“So I understand. Cancer, is it?” His gaze was skeptical and James wanted to smack him.
“That’s right. I’m in remission, but thanks for asking.”
“I spoke with your colleagues at the bank. There was a young woman, Jenny Murphy, remember her?
