AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well...of course I will.”
“But how, Daddy? You’re not here to kiss it and make it go away.”
His gut pinched. “No, I’m not, but I’ll be home soon, and I can blow you a kiss and it’ll help. Sound good?”
“I miss you, Daddy. I want you to come home.” She sported a pouty face, and it tugged his heart taut. He’d never been away from her for this long, and it hadn’t even been a full week. And she was sick. Guilt nipped at his heels.
“I know, baby. I’ll be home soon. Aunt Julie is going to give you lots of love, and before you know it, I’ll be there.”
Big tears rolled down her bright red cheeks burning with fever. “Okay. I’ll be brave.”
“That’s my girl. So brave.” Hopefully his words encouraged her.
Julie returned. “She’ll be fine. Do what you need to,” she murmured.
“Love you, Stella Bella.”
“Love you.” The FaceTime ended and he sighed. “Well, this sucks.”
“Kids are resilient. She’ll be fine.”
“It’s not about resilience but the fact I love her and want to be there to make her feel better.”
“I’m sure she’d love that.”
He didn’t get the impression she and her mom were close, and he’d like to know if she had any father figure in her life growing up. “You mentioned your mom but not your dad.”
“I didn’t know my father. Only a few stories.”
As he suspected; he’d done the math. If her mom was abducted at fifteen... Violet was most likely born out of the kidnapping. He wasn’t going to pry too much. It was private and probably a tender spot, but her drive to find the man made more sense. She wasn’t simply looking for a kidnapper but a rapist and...her father.
“Drop me at the sheriff’s office,” she said. “Or I can go and wait in the car. Backup.”
“I’ll be okay.” He appreciated her sentiment—that she cared. Mostly he cared about the fact a killer might have his sights set on her and have access to her room.
Thursday, October 19
2:30 p.m.
Violet had driven an unmarked unit to Nadine’s trailer, where she was supposed to meet John. She hadn’t talked to him in almost three hours, since he left to meet his undercover contact, Greg. She shouldn’t be worried about him, but she was. And that needled her in the ribs. Because it wasn’t the same kind of caring she felt for her team members.
She was attracted to him. But listening to him talk to his daughter when she was sick and seeing the torture on his face of not being able to be there and hold her, to make her feel better—that was even more attractive. John had a warmth in his eyes that, even on a rotten day when they were getting nowhere in this stupid investigation, radiated. He was good with people and patient.
Everything she wasn’t.
He was light.
She was dark.
Dark but lovely. Lula said that leather purse without a name was at her house. She was Mother’s great-great-granddaughter. Somewhere in the holler, her mother might be in danger or could possibly be of assistance—if she’d be more forthcoming than any other person up here. It was trying her patience and clawing at her bones.
She stepped out of the unmarked unit she’d parked close to the trailer in the dirt driveway. The place was surrounded by mountains and forest, and the road dead-ended.
The ERT had left, and according to the tech she talked with, there had been blood in the bedroom—on the bedsheets and lamp and on the flush handle of the toilet in the primary bath, and spatter on the headboard. The bedcovers had been tangled, but that didn’t necessarily signify a struggle. The back door had shown no signs of tampering, but that might mean she’d left it unlocked. They’d printed and tagged and bagged evidence to send to the Quantico lab, including bedsheets and towels and clothing that had been lying on the floor.
The place was older but tidy. She climbed the wooden stairs to the porch and peeked in a window. A couch. A coffee table. One small recliner. She slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Turning the knob, the door opened and a waft of stale marijuana smacked her senses. The kitchen to the left was small. A table and two chairs butted up against the wall by the back door. The counters were clear. No dishes in the sink.
Violet checked the fridge. Processed meats and cheese. Milk and eggs. Condiments and a pizza box. Six pack of beer. Two gone. She glanced in the freezer. Ice cube trays and ground beef. The sound of a car drew her attention, and she spotted John. Relief expelled from her chest as if she’d been unaware of holding it inside. His expression was grim as he strode toward the trailer. She opened the door as he stretched gloves over his hands.
