Janice Johnson - Cop by Her Side

He reached his own place, a log cabin on the outskirts of Little Elk, a town too small even to have a post office. He loved the quiet and the peace here, and had looked forward to showing Jane his home.

Yeah, well, that wasn’t happening.

He parked his Jeep Grand Cherokee in the carport attached to one side of the cabin and got out. The moon was heading toward full now, and the silver illumination cast shadows from the tall pines. He’d never installed a motion-activated light; there was enough wildlife around here that it would have been popping on all the time. As he walked toward the front door, he heard a soft hoot. A welcome home, or a complaint because he’d disturbed the night?

He let himself in, not bothering to turn on the porch light or a light in the main room. Instead he made his way by habit to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of milk and downed it in a few swallows, hoping it would soothe the acid in his stomach. Too many cups of coffee today. Had to be that, and not the gut-churning emotions he’d felt every time he looked at Jane or thought of her.

The clock on the stove told him it was 11:19 p.m. Maybe not too late to call? As scared as she was, would Jane really have dropped into a peaceful sleep by now?

Clay didn’t know why he felt such a hunger to talk to her. He didn’t have anything that qualified as real news to share, but...he wanted to hear her voice, to know she was okay.

He was dialing before he could have second thoughts.

Jane answered on the second ring. “Clay?” Her voice rang with anxiety.

“Nothing new,” he told her hastily. “I just, uh, thought I’d check in. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No. Of course not.” She hesitated. “I’m at Lissa’s with Alexis. So Drew could stay at the hospital.”

“He’s planning to stay all night?”

“I don’t know. He shouldn’t. He has to get some rest sometime. But I offered to pick up Alexis and tuck her in. She’d already had dinner with the neighbor.”

“Did you have dinner?” he asked, leaning back against the knotty pine kitchen cabinets.

There was a moment of silence. “I’m not hungry.”

“I know it’s hard when you’re scared, but you should have something.”

“Maybe.”

He sought for something else to say. “Alexis okay?”

“Not really. It was—” She broke off, or maybe her voice had broken. “Um, she wanted to talk about why her mommy hadn’t opened her eyes, and she was hoping I’d promise to bring Bree home tomorrow.”

“She’s five, right?”

“Right. She’s supposed to start kindergarten in...wow, not much over a week.”

“Bad enough at that age having something scary happen to one member of your family. But two...” He shook his head, remembering something he hadn’t thought of in years. His mother had had breast cancer when she was in her forties. Really scary shit, even if he was an adult. Sort of an adult, he amended, doing some mental arithmetic to decide he’d been...nineteen? Twenty? Anyway.

“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked. “You’ve gotten really quiet.”

So he told her. “All they did was remove a lump. They were confident they’d caught it early. But we all watched her like a hawk for years. I don’t even know when I quit getting this sinking feeling every time I saw her and thinking, what if it comes back?”

“Maybe after the magic five years?”

“Maybe.” What did this have to do with anything? He wasn’t sure. But he said, “My dad’s a hard-ass. You know? That’s the only time I can ever remember seeing him emotional. Scared. And gentle with Mom. That’s not his style.”

He’d never actually thought of his parents and the word love connected until that scare. Then he’d known. His father might not be good showing it, but he loved Clay’s mom. It was plain he’d have been lost without her.

Clay had liked his father a little better after that.

His mouth twisted. A little summed it up. Increasingly, he felt distaste for a man he’d once admired. A man who’d loved his sons and always had time for them while he taught them everything he believed a man should be.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“Maybe because it came out all right?” Jane suggested. “Your mom is fine?”

Was that why? He’d wanted to remind her that, yes, scary shit did happen and most often everyone came out safe on the other side?

If so—that was dumb as hell. Jane and he were both in a good position to know how often when things went to shit they stayed that way. Faces flashed through his memory, too many to catch one and stop it—the faces of accident victims, battered wives, kids who did something stupid and paid the ultimate penalty. Murder victims.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

What could he say but “You’re welcome.”

“Have you gone home?”

“Just got here.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “With the Amber Alert out there, a bunch of phone calls came in from people who thought they might have seen Bree. You know how it is. We had to follow up on all of them, but nothing panned out.”

She made a sound that might have been an “oh.”

“Didn’t really expect they would,” he continued, “but you never know.”

“No. Maybe tomorrow. I mean, she can’t have just vanished from the face of the earth.”

Thinking of the miles of empty country around Angel Butte, Clay knew she was wrong. A little girl’s body could go undiscovered for a long time. Even forever. But he wasn’t about to say anything like that to Jane. Didn’t have to, he realized; she knew. But she was trying for hope, too, and that was okay.

“You should get some sleep,” he told her gently. “Don’t wait up for your brother-in-law. You know he’ll call if anything changes.”

“You will, too, won’t you?” she said with sudden urgency. “This is really hard, being on the sidelines. I don’t care if you wake me up. If you hear anything. Anything at all.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I swear.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “I’m glad you called. Thank you, Clay.”

“You’re welcome,” he said again. “Go on. Hit the sack.”

“You, too.”

They said good-night and his phone went dead. Clay checked to be sure he’d put the milk back in the fridge, then flicked off the overhead light and made his way through the dark to the stairs. He thought he might be able to sleep now. Talking to Jane had...settled him. No real reason, but he felt better knowing she was hanging in there. He liked the softness in her voice when she said his name, too.

He hoped she went to bed before Drew came home wanting to weep on her shoulder.

* * *

JANE WOKE TO the sound of voices down the hall. She grabbed the second pillow and slapped it over her head. She wanted desperately to sink back into sleep. An uninterrupted hour or two. That was all she asked.

But of course it was hopeless. The light slipping through the blinds in this guest bedroom told her it was morning. Anyway, once she was really awake, she was awake.

She dragged herself to the bathroom and groaned at the sight of herself in the mirror. Given that she had no change of clothes, without borrowing something from Lissa—and she shuddered at the very thought—there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about her appearance. She did use the girls’ hairbrush—with a sparkly pink handle, no less—to try to restore order to her wild locks. Her mouth felt gummy, but a brief search of the drawers for a spare toothbrush came up empty. She really had to make it home today to pack that bag.

Drew sat slumped at the kitchen table. Alexis had scraped her chair as close to the corner of the table as she could get it. As close to her daddy as she could get.