Goodbye Forever Page 3

  She thought about it most of the weekend. Once they left the farmers’ market, Richard barely spoke to her. She was used to the way he examined his emotions before sharing them, and she didn’t press even though she wanted to. Richard had driven up in front of her house, not into the driveway. He pulled her to him and said, ‘Thank you for helping with this.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Kit told him.

  ‘If anyone can find her, you can.’ He could barely finish the sentence. ‘I need to go. Do you mind?’

  ‘Where?’ Kit asked.

  ‘I need to try talking to Sarah again. With Mark gone, she and Jessica are my family now.’

  ‘Would you like me to go with you?’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘On second thought,’ she said, ‘it’s better if you go alone. I have a lot of work to do.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ He kissed her before she could answer, and Kit told herself she should not resent a woman who had been involved with Richard’s brother for fewer than six months. A woman whose daughter was now missing.

  ‘I’m sure.’ She pulled him into her arms and gave him a real kiss. ‘And I love you, Richard.’

  ‘I love you, Kit.’

  Yet Sarah and her daughter were his family. Family meant everything to Richard, and Jessica was the only link to his brother. Kit knew little about her, other than that she had been rebellious from a young age.

  That night was the first in a long time that Kit slept alone, without films, books, or conversation. Richard didn’t come over Sunday either. Again, Kit didn’t ask why. She had done too much asking, too much demanding when they were married. Questioning him about what he was feeling wouldn’t bring her closer to him. It would only cause him to push her farther away – the way he had before, when she tried to discuss why he had wanted to start a family so soon after his brother’s death.

  The answer was as clear then as it was now, and it didn’t do anything but make Kit question why she and Richard had married too soon. The least she could do was try to help him find Jessica. Farley would go along with anything she asked. She and her radio partner had been friends a long time, more than friends briefly, and trusted confidantes from then on. Farley liked to say how alike they were. Maybe that was why Kit had married Richard, who was nothing like either of them.

  With that marriage and divorce hanging by a thread, she and Farley had fallen into a comfortable, no-expectations friendship that worked for both of them. Last week, he had told her he was ‘half-ass dating’. She didn’t call him on the euphemism for any number of reasons, including the fact that she was fine with whatever he wanted to do in his personal life. In any case, she could trust Farley as to what would or wouldn’t work on the air. When she made him understand how important it was for Richard to find his niece, he would agree to devote their show to that search. But neither he nor she had the law enforcement connections that John Paul Nathan did.

  As much as Kit wanted to avoid John Paul that Monday morning, she knew she would need his help on this one. He owned the last five minutes of their radio segment now, and that alone meant he might be willing to use his police department contacts, even though he had distrusted Kit in the past. When she looked up into his light brown eyes, she still felt as if she were trying to prove her innocence for a murder she had not committed. But, Kit reminded herself, that case had been solved almost five years ago, and the true killer had been found. John Paul was more like a co-worker now, if one stretched the meaning of that word. Besides, he thrived on any case that made him feel like a cop again.

  John Paul’s spotless silver pickup and Farley’s freshly waxed black Corvette seemed to be silently dueling beside each other in the station lot that Monday morning. Kit parked in the shade she didn’t really need this time of year, especially considering the storm clouds darkening the sky. Only after she got out of her car did she glimpse John Paul beside his truck. Immaculately dressed as always in a white jacket, matching open-collar shirt, and jeans, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and started talking. The month before, he had shaved off his short, gray-sprinkled afro, which made him appear younger than whatever he was – forty, maybe, forty-five. As she watched him standing there, the morning sun slanting down on him, Kit realized that he was actually attractive. His problem was attitude – lots of attitude.

  ‘I’ll do everything I can, Jasper. You know that,’ he said. ‘All I get is a lousy five-minute segment, but I have a plan, assuming I can make that Doyle woman listen to me for once. Got to go, brother. Bye.’

  In one quick movement, he returned the phone to his pocket and focused his gaze on Kit. He must have sensed her watching him, and she felt like a stalker caught in the act.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, not quite dismissing her, which was friendly by his standards.

  ‘Good morning,’ she replied, her cheeks still burning. ‘Farley said you’re talking about one of your old cases today.’

  ‘Not mine now. My buddy Jasper’s. Just got off the phone with him, but then you know that.’ His words were friendly, but his face held that lie-detector expression that always made her think of times she had just as soon forget. ‘Missing wife. No body, no proof. But someone saw something.’

  ‘Who? How do you know?’

  ‘There’s always someone, Doyle. You know that.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do. Why’s your partner so interested in this case?’

  ‘Former partner, and, to answer your question, because Jasper had a relationship with the woman.’ He sighed to make his point. ‘Because it was our last case together before I … before I got shot.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ she said.

  ‘No big thing. That’s my point. It’s not about me. It’s about the case. No one knows anything about it.’

  ‘Get me the information, and I’ll write it up for the blog,’ she told him. ‘I need you to do something for me as well.’

  ‘Such as?’ His eyes narrowed slightly, and she felt her mouth go dry.

  ‘Such as use your connection with Jasper and the other officers you worked with. I met a woman. Her daughter disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You mean ran away? When?’

  ‘Last week. Another kid disappeared from the same apartment complex a year or so ago. I thought maybe if you could get some details, we could do a segment.’

  He started shaking his head even before she finished.

  ‘Missing kids? You don’t want to go there, Doyle, especially not after what you just went through with your own family.’

  ‘I’m fine, and this doesn’t have anything to do with that.’

  ‘Then why are you so interested in this case?’ He started toward the back entry to the station, and Kit realized he was trying to hide the limp she had noticed before. ‘It doesn’t work,’ he said. ‘Take it from me.’

  ‘What doesn’t work? And why the sudden concern for my psyche?’

  He stopped and squinted into the cloudy sky. ‘Do you know what happens to a cold case, Doyle?’

  ‘Of course I know. That’s why I started my blog.’

  ‘With cold cases,’ he said, ‘our hands are tied. We can’t do anything. That’s what’s going on with Jasper right now.’

  ‘So you want us to focus our segments on his case?’ she said. ‘Missing wife. No body, no proof.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Which, as you just explained, was your last case. Why didn’t you just come out and say so?’

  ‘I did.’ A few raindrops fell. She wiped them from her face. ‘You weren’t paying attention.’

  She wasn’t going to stand out here and argue with him when she had to be on the air in a few minutes.

  ‘It’s late, and I’m cold.’ She started for the door again.

  ‘Here.’ He took off his jacket and handed it to her.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Just then, the rain came down with more force.

  She grabbed the jacket and said, ‘Let’s run.’

  They headed for the back d
oor, John Paul’s limp more pronounced but not slowing him down.

  Heart pounding, she rushed inside as he pulled the door shut.

  Stepping into the station always calmed Kit, and she could use a change of scenery at the moment. Radio had changed and mellowed since her dad’s disc jockey days in smoke-filled announce booths. Monique, the station owner’s overbearing daughter, considered herself an interior designer, and the place had benefitted from both her touch and her father’s money. An oasis of high ceilings, art-covered walls, and glass partitions, the lobby held a serenity that overpowered the caffeine-fueled debates that took place on the air.

  ‘I want to talk to you more about that old case,’ John Paul said. ‘You have time for coffee later?’

  That was a first. Kit glanced away from him at a new painting over the sofa, some kind of abstract in bright greens and purples. ‘Only if you promise not to try talking me out of this missing girl story.’

  ‘I’m not trying to talk you out of anything. I just want you to clear this story with Farley and get it on the air as soon as you can. It’s a natural for you two.’

  ‘Farley’s my partner, not my boss,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m sure we can cover both, but Jasper’s is a cold case, and we need to find this girl right now. I keep thinking about her mother, John Paul. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.’

  ‘So that’s what’s really happening here. I knew it.’ He walked over to the sofa and then turned to face her. ‘You’re trying to fix every other broken family now, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said, but his words stung.

  Just then, Monique came out of the announce booth lifting her phone. ‘I just took a few of Farley,’ she said. ‘Can I get one of you two out in the lobby?’

  Blond and brown-eyed, she had a flawless yet forgettable beauty and an earnestness that, fake or not, would be endearing if she were not so self-absorbed.

  John Paul rolled his eyes in the condescending look of dismissal he had directed at Kit earlier.

  Kit glared at him. ‘Sure,’ she told Monique. ‘But we need to hurry.’

  By the time Kit met Farley in the announce booth, she had put on a proper noncommittal expression.

  ‘What’s going on?’ So much for noncommittal. Farley, the perpetual surfer boy turned rock jock turned talk radio host, could deal with anyone’s catastrophes, especially hers.

  ‘Nothing. I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Lunch after?’ He reached for a bottle of water. ‘There’s a new buffet at the hotel down the block.’

  ‘It’s raining.’ She tugged at her damp hair. ‘Want to go across the street?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Let’s get away from this place.’

  He seemed nervous, and she wasn’t sure why.

  She walked around and joined him at the curving desk. ‘You get to choose because it’s my turn to buy,’ she told him.

  He pulled his chair around so that they were eye-to-eye. ‘You don’t have to wait until then to tell me what’s bothering you.’

  ‘John Paul,’ she said under her breath in case the mics were already live.

  ‘He’s not a bad guy.’

  ‘He is to me.’

  ‘I know you two have a history, but this isn’t personal with him,’ Farley said.

  ‘A history?’ Her cheeks burned. ‘The man suspected me of murder not so long ago.’

  ‘And he admitted he was wrong. Cut him some slack, Kit. He’s just trying to be the cop he was before he got shot.’

  ‘I’m fine with that as long as he doesn’t try to interfere with what we’re doing.’

  ‘Actually’ – Farley gulped his water, but not before he could hide the guilty expression – ‘there’s a case he wants us to cover. I think we should consider it.’

  So John Paul had talked to Farley before her.

  ‘Disappearing wife?’ she asked.

  Farley nodded. ‘No body.’

  ‘No proof,’ they finished in unison.

  ‘So he must have spoken to you about it as well,’ Farley said, fighting a grin.

  ‘I thought he was asking permission. Apparently, he went to you first. And Farley, as much as that pisses me off, there’s another reason I don’t want to work on his case right now.’

  ‘It better be good,’ he said.

  ‘It is, believe me. Richard introduced me to the mother of his dead brother’s daughter. The girl disappeared on Thursday from an apartment complex where one other kid has gone missing.’

  ‘Kidnapped?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. She probably ran away.’ Kit could tell she had piqued his interest, but they had only a minute before they went on the air. Their chemistry would carry them through. ‘Jessica left a note – pretty odd. I’ll share it after.’

  ‘What about John Paul’s story?’ he asked.

  ‘That case will be just as cold once we find Jessica – if we find her. Come on, Farley. You know what we can accomplish together.’

  ‘Then prove it, my friend.’ He moved close to the mic. ‘We’re on.’

  In spite of her concerns, she and Farley connected as they almost always did. By the time they finished talking about a missing teacher who may or may not have committed suicide, they were flooded with phone calls.

  ‘You’re the best,’ she told Farley.

  ‘No, Kit.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘You were right. We can accomplish a lot of good on this show.’

  ‘So you’re with me on the missing girl case?’

  ‘Maybe. We can talk about it at lunch. Let’s get out of here.’

  They stepped into the lobby, where John Paul waited.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be on the air right now?’ Kit asked.

  ‘I’ve got a minute.’ His stiff expression didn’t change.

  ‘So you’re blocking our way because …’

  ‘I’m not blocking anything.’ He stepped aside. ‘I do need to tell you something, though, Doyle. Against my better judgment, I might add.’

  Farley nudged her ahead, but she couldn’t move. ‘Tell me,’ she said.

  ‘Not that I took anything you said this morning very seriously.’

  ‘Spare me the disclaimers, John Paul.’

  ‘This is serious.’

  ‘I get that.’ She forced the hostility from her voice. ‘Go on, please.’

  ‘OK, here’s the deal. After you and I talked, I called Jasper back. And I asked him to check out those kids who disappeared.’

  ‘What did you find out?’ Kit tried to control her beating heart.

  ‘Not good.’ He shook his head and looked at her with an expression that held enough truth and pain to make her want to look away. ‘The one kid who vanished from the same apartment complex doesn’t seem connected, but the other girl you told me about – Jessica – she’s not the first one who left a Goodbye forever note. Another kid went missing last year in Oregon. His name’s Isaac – Ike. He left the same note, word for word.’

  FOUR

  Kit and Farley ducked into the hotel lobby as the storm raced them to the door. Farley shoved the damp hair from his face, and Kit tried to figure out what was different about him. His hair, always shaggy blond, seemed shorter around his ears, and the turquoise shirt that complemented his eyes looked new. Another time, she might have teased him, but there was nothing funny about the photocopied piece of paper John Paul had given them. In a perfect script, the seventeen-year-old boy from Oregon had written, I love you. Goodbye forever.

  Kit held on to it as they tried to find a table, but the place was packed.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked Farley.

  He pointed at a sign in front of the hotel dining room. Vintage Toy-a-Thon.

  ‘A convention? The last thing we need.’

  Kit turned and spotted other signs.

  Movie props.

  Action figures.

  Anime.

  ‘There’s room at the counter,’ she said.

  ‘Come on,
’ Farley told her, as if it had been his idea. ‘And thanks for not making it my fault that we walked into someone else’s party.’

  Yet he hadn’t wanted to eat close enough for people at the station to see them together. Kit could deal with that later – or not. Right now, standing at the counter while the only server was delivering sweet potato fries to the couple at the far end, Kit put down the photocopy John Paul had given her.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked him. ‘Farley, why would two teens use the same exact words before running away?’

  ‘Look how perfect this Ike kid’s handwriting is.’ Farley squinted at the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘It’s almost calligraphy. Maybe Jessica and he didn’t run away. What if someone took them and made them write the notes? Maybe even wrote the notes for them.’

  ‘That’s not very likely,’ she said. ‘At least maybe now John Paul will agree that our segment needs to focus on Jessica and not his old case.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’ Farley studied the menu on the wall as if he could find all of the answers there. Kit had to agree with his unspoken opinion. John Paul could be hard-headed when his causes were concerned. But then so could she.

  ‘We’ll figure out something,’ Farley said. ‘We always do.’

  ‘I did research on runaways,’ she told him. ‘Kids, especially girls, are trading sex for a place to stay within forty-eight hours of leaving home. Survival sex.’

  ‘The first step to prostitution,’ he said. ‘I did some research of my own. Richard must be sick over this.’

  ‘You know how he is. It’s killing him from the inside out.’ Her voice broke, and she realized she was close to tears. ‘Sorry, Farley. Richard won’t say so, but I know he’s blaming himself.’

  ‘He’s only the uncle. He couldn’t force the mother to let him see Jessica.’

  ‘But guilt’s his demon. It always has been.’

  Farley leaned closer to her. ‘What can I do, Kit?’

  ‘Just keep John Paul focused on Jessica’s disappearance, will you?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can do that, but I’ll try.’

  A screech of cheers rose behind them, and four characters in costumes Kit didn’t recognize rushed into the restaurant.