Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

Steven jumped to his feet, staring at Brad, incredulity robbing him of any intelligent response. He turned his back and stared at the wall, unable to stand the virulent anger, the dark hatred in his son's eyes. It was as if Brad blamed him . "Why, Brad?" he whispered.

"Why, which?" Brad answered with a sarcastic question of his own.

"Why are you doing this to me, to your brothers? To yourself?" Steven folded his arms across his chest, putting pressure against his heart that felt physically sore. His throat ached, but he managed to contain the emotion, swallowing back the lump he feared would choke him. His son. The fear clawed at his gut. Betrayal ripped so deep it left him numb. "Why?" He could barely hear his own whisper.

Brad simply looked at him, his eyes gone cold. "Because."

Because? Because ? What the hell kind of answer was that? Steven waited, his heart pounding in his throat. And then he stepped backward toward the door, because it seemed that was the only answer he was going to get. When his back hit the door he cleared his throat.

"I have to go out again. I have a missing girl in Pineville." Was that a flicker in his son's eyes? Some evidence of compassion? "I don't know when I'll be home. Aunt Helen has a canasta game tomorrow night. I need you to be here with your brothers in case I'm not here. Brad?"

Brad jerked a nod, then leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes. Steven stood for a moment, watching his oldest son effectively ignore him. Dismissed, he opened Brad's bedroom door, waited until he closed the door on the other side, then let his body sag against the wall.

"What should I do?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes clenched shut. "Please, God, tell me."

But the voice quietly murmuring in his mind was Jenna Marshall's. Have courage, Steven . If only it were that simple.

Friday, September 30, 7:30 P.M.

Jenna unsnapped the leash from Jim's collar and straightened her back with a sigh. Her ankle throbbed, but at least both dogs were walked for the evening. There was no way she'd have asked Steven Thatcher to do it for her, although he probably would have welcomed the chance to put off going home another fifteen or twenty minutes. She wondered if he'd talked to Brad.

Wondered if there was anything more she could do.

She put the thought out of her mind. Casey was right. There was truly nothing more she could do other than let the parents know. She needed to tell them, then walk away, even if they had broad shoulders, beautiful eyes, muscular biceps, and smelled really good.

Jenna chuckled at herself. "Hormones," she murmured. Jj was a good thing she didn't need to see Steven Thatcher again, she thought. She needed a bit of time to bring all those newly awakened hormones under tight control. "Wouldn't want to do anything stupid," she said to Jean-Luc who sat looking up hopefully.

But Jenna Marshall rarely did anything stupid. "I rarely do anything at all," she said to Jean-Luc, who licked her hand. And tonight would be no exception. Tonight she'd snuggle into the corner of her sofa, alone. And watch old movies, alone. And, if she was lucky, she'd have some leftovers in the fridge she could warm up and eat. Alone.

It was rare for her to indulge in self-pity. So stop it , she told herself. But once rolling, the pity train was hard to brake. Her thoughts ran to Adam, about the days she hadn't been alone. "Great," she muttered aloud. "Now I feel even worse." She eyed Jim and Jean-Luc balefully. "At least you two can't tell me I've grieved long enough and to get on with my life."

A knock at the door sent both dogs into a snarling crouch.

"Setde," Jenna commanded and limped over to the door to peek through the peephole. And sighed. Adam's father stood there, tapping one foot. She opened the door. "Hi, Dad." Having lost her own parents years before, she'd been instantly adopted by Adam's family. She nodded to the pair of eyes peeking from the darkened apartment across the hall. "Hello, Mrs. Kasselbaum."

Mrs. Kasselbaum appeared, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, her housedress perfectly starched-as usual. She patted her hair, then lightly stroked the ever-present pearls around her neck. Jenna often thought this was how Beaver Cleaver's mother would look, forty years later. "Hello, Jenna. Your young man didn't stay very long."

Adam's father raised his bushy brows. "What young man? Where's your car? It's not outside."

"I don't have a young man. Come in, Dad."

Seth Llewellyn turned to Mrs. Kasselbaum with a frown. "What young man? Where's her car?"

Mrs. Kasselbaum leaned forward conspiratorially. "She came home with a man. Tall, clean-cut, very handsome. Blond hair, size forty-eight long, brown eyes. I know nothing about her car."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Come in , Dad. Good night , Mrs. Kasselbaum."

Seth didn't even glance Jenna's way. "How tall? How handsome?"

Mrs. Kasselbaum looked up, batting her eyelashes. Mrs. Kasselbaum had a thing for Adam's father, a widower for as long as Jenna had known him. "About as tall as you," Mrs. Kasselbaum said coyly and Jenna rolled her eyes. Steven Thatcher, although not her young man, was at least three inches taller than Seth. Maybe four. Mrs. Kasselbaum batted her eyes again, with enough power to take off in flight. "But not as handsome as you."

Seth laughed. "Go on with you, now." He leaned a little closer toward Mrs. Kasselbaum, only encouraging her further. "And how long did he stay?"

Jenna hit her head against the door frame. Several times. The two matchmakers ignored her.

"Sixteen minutes," Mrs. Kasselbaum answered, nodding emphatically.

Seth pursed his lips. "Only sixteen minutes?"

Mrs. Kasselbaum shrugged her thin shoulders and sighed dramatically. "I can only tell what I see." She raised a superior gray brow at Jenna. "She'll have to do the rest by herself."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Jenna said. "Dad, I hurt my ankle and shouldn't be on my feet."

Seth was instantly contrite. "Why didn't you say so, young lady?" He waved a fast good-bye at the disappointed Mrs. Kasselbaum and hurried inside where he put his hands on his hips. "What happened to your ankle? Who was the young man? And where is your car?"

Jenna rolled her eyes again. She loved Adam's family dearly, but sometimes they could be a bit smothering. She limped to the sofa and sat down. "He's not a young man. He's the father of a high school senior so he's got to be-oh, I don't know-forty at least."

Seth winced. "Forty is ancient."

"You know what I mean."

"Does this forty-year-old father of a high school senior have a name?"

"His name is Steven Thatcher. I called him for a conference and when we met he accidentally knocked me down and I twisted my ankle. He felt badly and brought me home."

Seth looked alarmed. "Your car's still in the school parking lot? We shouldn't leave it there over the weekend-I'll drive over and get it." He turned for the door and Jenna cleared her throat.

"Dad, wait." He stopped and turned, his expression expectant. Jenna had hoped not to have to tell them that her car- Adam's car-had been towed. Adam had restored the old 1960 Jag XK 150 as an undergraduate. It had been his pride and joy, even when he'd become way too sick to drive it. Adam had left her the car in his will and although none of Adam's family had disputed it, the well-being of the car was well monitored by the entire Llewellyn clan.

"The car's fine, Dad." He breathed a sigh of relief. "But the tires were slashed today."

His whole body tensed. "How?"

Jenna shrugged. "I flunked one of the kids on the football team. It was childish retaliation." She would keep the threatening note to herself. "Don't worry, I asked the guys that towed the car to replace the tires with the same kind Adam used." It would cost her a fortune, but… Well, it was Adam's car. And hopefully the insurance would cover most of the cost.