Karen Rose - Scream For Me

It was a stark office. Government-issue desk and chairs. Maps on the wall, along with a few plaques. No pictures, anywhere. She sat in the chair he pulled out for her, then he took his seat behind his desk. “I have to apologize, Miss Fallon. You look like someone else. I was… startled. Please, tell me about your stepsister. Miss Smithson said her name is Bailey Crighton and she’s been missing for two days.”

He was staring at her with an intensity that left her unnerved. So she stared back, finding it helped keep her focused. “I got a call from Social Services on Friday afternoon. Bailey hadn’t come to work and a coworker found her daughter alone in her house.”

“So you came to take care of the daughter?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. Her name is Hope. She’s four. I tried to talk to the sheriff down in Dutton, but he said Bailey had probably just taken off.”

His jaw tightened, so infinitesimally that she might have missed it had she not been staring at him as hard as he was staring at her. “So she lived in Dutton?”

“All her life.”

“I see. Can you describe her, Miss Fallon?”

Alex clenched her fingers in her lap. “I haven’t seen her in five years. She was using then and she looked hard and old. But I’ve heard she’s been sober since her daughter was born. I don’t know exactly what she looks like now and I don’t have any pictures of her.” She’d left them all behind when Kim and Steve took her away thirteen years ago, and later… Alex hadn’t wanted any pictures of the drugged-out Bailey. It was too painful to watch, much less capture on film. “She’s about my height, five-six. Last time I saw her she was very thin, maybe one-twenty. Her eyes are gray. Then, her hair was blond, but she’s a hairdresser, so it could be any color.”

Vartanian was taking notes. He looked up. “What color blond? Dark, golden?”

“Well, not as blond as yours.” Vartanian’s hair was the color of cornsilk, and so thick it still held the ridges from where he’d shoved his fingers through it. He looked up, his lips bending in a small smile, and she felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said kindly. Even though he still stared at her with that same intensity, something had changed in his demeanor and for the first time Alex let herself hope.

“Was the victim blond, Agent Vartanian?”

He shook his head. “No. Did your cousin have any identifying marks?”

“She has a tattoo on her right ankle. A sheep.”

Vartanian looked surprised. “A sheep?”

Alex’s cheeks heated again. “A lamb actually. It was a joke between us. Bailey and my sister and me. We all got them…” She cut herself off. She was rambling.

His eyes flickered once more, just barely. “Your sister?”

“Yes.” Alex glanced at Vartanian’s desk and saw a copy of the headline from this morning’s Dutton Review . Suddenly his extreme reaction on meeting her made sense and she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or annoyed. “You’ve already read the paper, so you know about the similarities between my sister’s death and the woman you found yesterday.” He said nothing and Alex decided she was annoyed. “Please, Agent Vartanian. I’m tired and scared to death. Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fallon. I don’t mean to play games with you. Tell me about your sister. What was her name?”

Alex sucked in her cheeks. “Alicia Tremaine. For God’s sake, you must have seen her picture. You looked at me like you’d seen a damn ghost.”

Again his eyes flickered, this time in an annoyance of his own. “There is a strong resemblance,” he said mildly.

“Considering we were identical twins, I’m somehow not surprised.” Alex managed to keep her voice level, but it took effort. “Agent Vartanian, is that woman Bailey or not?”

He toyed with his pencil in a way that made Alex want to leap across his desk and rip it from his hands. Finally he spoke. “She isn’t blond and she doesn’t have a tattoo.”

The relief left her light-headed and Alex fought to quell the tears that suddenly threatened. When she was back in control, she slowly exhaled and looked at him. But he didn’t look as relieved as she felt.

“It can’t be Bailey, then,” she said evenly.

“Tattoos can be removed.”

“But there will be some physical scarring left behind. Your ME can check this.”

“And I’ll make sure that she does,” he said in a way that told Alex his next words would be a promise to call her when he knew something. She didn’t want to wait.

Alex lifted her chin. “I want to see her. The victim. I need to know. Bailey has a child. Hope needs to know. She needs to know her mother didn’t just abandon her.” Alex suspected Hope knew exactly what had occurred, but she kept that to herself.

Vartanian shook his head, although his eyes had softened to something approaching sympathy. “You can’t see her. She was badly beaten. She isn’t recognizable.”

“I’m a nurse, Agent Vartanian. I’ve seen dead bodies before. If it’s Bailey, I’ll know. Please. I need to know one way or the other.”

He hesitated, then finally nodded. “I’ll call the ME. She was supposed to start the examination at about ten, so we should be able to catch her before she begins.”

“Thank you.”

Monday, January 29, 9:45 a.m.

“This is our viewing room.” Dr. Felicity Berg stood aside as Daniel followed Alex Fallon through the door. “If you’d like to sit down, please do.”

Daniel watched Alex Fallon take in the room with a sweeping glance. Then she shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll stand,” she said. “Is she ready?”

She was a cool one, Miss Alex Fallon. And she’d given him the shock of his life.

It’s her, was all he’d been able to think when she’d looked up into his face. He felt lucky he hadn’t embarrassed himself more than he had. When she’d said he looked like he’d seen a ghost, she’d hit the nail on the head. His heart was still unsteady when he looked at her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

When he really looked at her, he could see she was different from the smiling photo of her sister. She was thirteen years older, but that wasn’t it. There was something different in her eyes. They were whiskey-colored, identical to her sister’s, of course. But the laughter he’d seen in Alicia Tremaine’s eyes was nonexistent in Alex Fallon’s.

She’d been through trauma, thirteen years ago and again now, so perhaps her eyes had once held mischief and fun. But now Alex Fallon was cool and collected. He’d witnessed brief spurts of emotion-fear, anger, relief, all quickly controlled. Watching her stand before the curtained window, he wondered what was going through her mind.

“I’ll go check,” Felicity said and closed the door behind her, leaving them alone.

Alex stood quietly, her arms at her sides. But her hands were clenched into fists and Daniel fought the urge to pry her fingers apart.

She was a beautiful woman, he thought, finally able to look at her without her watching him in return. Her eyes had rattled him, as if she’d seen more than he’d wanted her to. Her lips were full but unsmiling. She was slender, but her sensible black suit still hinted of curves beneath. Her hair was the same dark caramel color as her sister’s and it fell midway down her back in waves, thick and sleek.

Because the thought of touching her hair, of caressing her cheek… because the thought had actually entered his mind, Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets. She flinched when he moved. She’d been aware of him, even if she hadn’t been looking at him. “Where do you live, Miss Fallon?”

She turned, just enough so that she could see over her shoulder. “ Cincinnati.”