The English Detective and the Rookie Agent Read online

  Not that Jeremy had ever seen it. His father only showed interest in his son when Jeremy said he planned to study law. Then Edward made time to offer advice about which area of study would earn the best wage.

  A hefty income is the key to happiness.

  Strange thing, his father never seemed happy. He seemed dissatisfied and critical of the world. Especially of his son.

  Jeremy walked into what he assumed was Lucas’s room. Stars covered the dark blue ceiling. Envy coursed through him that the boy’s parents let him deface his room with stars, posters and mobiles. They obviously understood Lucas’s creative brilliance and were supportive. Lucky boy.

  He went to the boy’s desk and tapped the computer keyboard. The screen lit up with instant message notifications. Multiple windows flashed across the sky blue background; messages inviting Lucas to converse. For a shy boy, he had plenty of online friends. Jeremy jotted down some of the instant message names for Eddie, in case they were lost when he unplugged the machine.

  The boy’s room was in impeccable shape, which meant he was the organized type. Actually, it reminded Jeremy of his own room.

  Jeremy had spent much of his childhood there, the only place he’d felt truly comfortable. Being smart made you different—a freak.

  He wondered if Lucas felt the same way. At ten, there was nothing worse than thinking you were different. Or unloved.

  It was obvious Lucas’s parents loved him very much and they showed it by letting him design his room to best reflect his interests.

  Jeremy remembered wanting to hide from the cruelties and disappointments of his life. Of course, at the time he didn’t understand those feelings. He drifted off into fantasyland, creating a secret castle in his closet where he’d save princesses from dragons and hold summit meetings with his imaginary team of Master Fighters.

  Smiling, he opened the closet door. It was fantastic, large enough to be a small bedroom. Clothes lined one wall and a playhouse sat against the other side. He crouched down and opened the playhouse door.

  And there, curled up in a ball, thumb in her mouth, lay a little girl—Lucas’s sister, Natalia, no doubt.

  Her eyes popped open and she whimpered.

  He eased out of the house and sat, cross-legged on the floor. “Don’t be scared. I’m Jeremy. I’m here to help find Lucas.”

  She blinked, a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “You miss your brother, don’t you?”

  She nodded, not taking her thumb out of her mouth.

  “Why are you hiding in here?”

  She blinked.

  “Is this Lucas’s special place?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to find him.”

  “But he wasn’t here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Everyone’s looking for you.”

  “I want Lucas.”

  “I know, love. We all want to find him.”

  “Lucas is a big boy,” she said.

  “We’ll find him. But first I need to tell everyone I found you. Can you come out?”

  She blinked.

  “Please? I need your help finding your brother.”

  She unfolded her body and crawled out of the house, right into Jeremy’s lap.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said, trying to act like he knew what to do with thirty pounds of little girl. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he closed his eyes, absorbing her complete trust.

  “Shall we find your grandmother?”

  “Okay.”

  While holding her against him, he awkwardly got up.

  Mercedes stood in the doorway. “What’s this?”

  Natalia whimpered and buried her face against Jeremy’s shoulder.

  “Lucas’s little sister went looking for him and fell asleep in the closet.”

  “I’ll let them know she’s been found.”

  “Thanks. Ask the grandmother to come up here, alone, will you? Natalia’s upset enough as it is.”

  “Sure.” She winked. “You’re a natural.”

  Bloody hell he was. She was good at taunting him, driving home his shortcomings. He knew he didn’t have the parent gene. Although, if he were to become a father, he’d work a hell of a lot harder at it than Edward and Elizabeth Barnes.

  Now, what was he thinking? Being a parent was not in Jeremy’s future. He knew nothing about raising a confident child. Any child of Jeremy’s would undoubtedly think him cross all the time because he kept such a tight rein on his feelings and emotions.

  It had been the best coping mechanism for the emotional beatings he’d taken as a child. The best coping mechanism for life.

  “Natalia, how’s your brother been lately? Happy or sad?”

  “Sad,” she whispered into his ear.

  His chest tightened at the feel of her sweet breath against his skin.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I break his things and Daddy doesn’t play with him anymore.” She leaned back and looked at Jeremy. “Lucas is a big boy.”

  “My God, Natalia!” The grandmother raced into the room, her arms outstretched.

  Natalia clung tighter to Jeremy’s neck.

  “I think your grandmother needs a hug,” he encouraged.

  “I want Lucas.” Her voice muffled against his shoulder.

  He turned and said into her ear, “If I’m to find him I need you to go to your grandmother, okay, love?”

  She nodded, leaned back and looked into his eyes. For a second it seemed like she could read his thoughts. God, he hoped not. She’d know how utterly incompetent he really felt about comforting her.

  “You talk funny,” she said.

  He smiled and passed her to the grandmother.

  “Natalia, you scared me!” Grandmother said. “Don’t ever do that again. Don’t you know everyone was looking for you?”

  Don’t make her feel ashamed, Jeremy thought. She missed her brother.

  “They’ll understand,” he said.

  “Where did you find her?”

  “In the playhouse in Lucas’s closet.”

  The grandmother looked into Natalia’s eyes. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  “She fell asleep,” Jeremy offered, wishing she’d say the right thing.

  And what was that, exactly?

  “I want Lucas,” the little girl whimpered.

  “I know, sshhh, I know,” the grandmother consoled, patting the child’s back.

  “We’re going to borrow Lucas’s computer and be on our way,” Jeremy said.

  The elderly woman nodded and started out of the room. “I was so scared,” she said to the little girl. “I love you so much, Natalia.”

  There it was—the words he’d been waiting for.

  Her head popped up from her grandmother’s shoulder and Natalia smiled. “Bye, Jeremy.”

  “Bye,” was all he could say. So innocent, so trusting. And safe. Thank God.

  “Someone’s got a crush on you,” Mercedes teased.

  “Surprises you, does it?” He refocused on getting the computer.

  “Not at all,” she said, casually.

  Was she flirting with him?

  “How did you know?” She grabbed the keyboard.

  “Know what?”

  “That she’d be hiding in the closet?”

  “I didn’t,” he said.

  “Then what made you look in there?”

  He unplugged the power cord and wrapped it around the CPU. “I was trying to get a sense of Lucas’s state of mind when he sat in this room.”

  “And that led you into a dark closet?”

  “Didn’t you ever imagine things when you were a kid? Play pretend games?”

  “Sure, but I didn’t peg you for the imaginary friend type.”

  The imaginary ones were the best kind, he thought, remembering the cruel classmates that taunted him. If it wasn’t for being teacher’s pet, then it was his looks—tall, skinny, with glasses. A perfect target.

  He remembered asking for
karate classes for his thirteenth birthday, but Mum said she couldn’t risk the hospital bills if he got hurt. He suffered two more years of cruel jokes and bullying. Then he got a paper delivery job and used his wages to take karate, without Mum’s knowledge. It gave him strength; it gave him confidence.

  Yet somewhere, deep down, he was still fighting the scrawny image of himself every time he looked in the mirror.

  He headed down the stairs, CPU in hand. He glanced at a photograph of Lucas on the wall, wearing a button-down shirt, tie and forced grin. Jeremy wondered if part of the motivation behind home-schooling him was to protect him.

  It sounded like the father had been a prodigy, making his first million by age thirty. He probably remembered what it was like—the teasing, the practical tricks. Is that why they kept the boy home? To shelter him?

  “Keys are in my pocket,” he said.

  “I’ll hold the computer. I don’t want you accusing me of sexual harassment.” She grabbed the CPU from his arms.

  Was she uncomfortable at the thought of touching him?

  Just as well. When she’d touched his shoulder before an odd sensation had shot down his arm. He’d probably just gone too long without a decent female connection.

  Listen to yourself. You sound so bloody clinical.

  She put the computer in the trunk and he closed it. He didn’t have much contact with women, other than the rare female agent, a handful of sexual encounters and his new friendship with Cassie.

  It was strange how Max had initially seemed jealous when Cassie touched Jeremy. But Jeremy knew it was a touch of friendship, not attraction. She seemed more like a little sister than a seductive woman.

  God, man, if you can’t be attracted to that girl, there must be something seriously wrong with you.

  He always suspected as much. Why else would Nancy have left him without so much as a goodbye note, or a postcard from whatever exotic country she’d run off to?

  Had she decided there could be no real future between them because of the age difference? She’d mentioned wanting to have children, which was natural since she was in her twenties, but the thought terrified him. And not because he was only eighteen and she was twenty-five. He feared fatherhood because he hadn’t a clue how a good father behaved.

  “You have directions to the Lynk place?” Mercedes asked.

  “In the folder.” He nodded to the seat between them and started the car.

  “What’s up?” She opened the folder, but was staring at Jeremy.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re out there, in la-la land.”

  “Probably still recovering from the flu.”

  “No, something else is bothering you. Is it the little girl?”

  God, could she see it? How the few minutes holding Natalia opened up all his childhood wounds?

  “What’s bothering me is we still don’t have a feeling for the boy’s state of mind when he disappeared.” He steered down the driveway.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  Besides peace?

  “A direction, for one.”

  “Take this back to the highway and turn left.”

  “I didn’t mean that kind of direction.”

  She cocked her head to one side.

  “It’s like we’re all flailing about, trying to find the boy, but we’re ignoring the life boat in front of us.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Put yourself in his place. How was he feeling that day? What was he thinking?”

  “He was probably happy to be at the ocean with the other kids.”

  “Was he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m guessing that being a shy boy, his social skills weren’t top caliber.”

  “Which could make him awkward around a group of thirty kids. You think he might have been overwhelmed?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then why would he wander off from the group?”

  “Maybe Shayne Lynk can give us some insight into that question,” he said.

  She directed him to turn onto a heavily wooded street. They found the house, a modest Tudor, tucked away on an acre of land.

  “You want to conduct this interview?” he asked.

  “No, thanks. You’re the natural with kids.”

  He clenched his jaw and headed for the house. She couldn’t be more wrong. Still, he hoped the boy could give Jeremy a feel for what was going on in Lucas’s life.

  They were greeted by the grandfather. “David said to expect you. I’m Burt, Shayne’s grandfather. Shayne is out back with a friend.”

  “Thanks.”

  “This is Lilianna, my wife,” Burt said.

  “Something to drink?” the older woman offered as they passed through the kitchen.

  “No thank you,” Jeremy said.

  “Actually, I’d love a glass of water.” Mercedes nodded at Jeremy to go outside.

  He got the message. She’d ask the grandparents some questions and let Jeremy do the interview alone. Probably a good idea not to gang up on the boy.

  It was strange how Jeremy could read her mind, how in sync they had become after only hours of working together.

  The grandfather opened the slider to the backyard. “Shayne?”

  “Yeah, Gramps?”

  “An investigator is here to talk to you about Lucas.”

  A boy with bright blond hair and a blue striped shirt sprung out of the bushes, a taller boy beside him.

  “What were you doing back there?” the grandfather asked.

  “Nothing.” Shayne glanced at his mud-covered shoes.

  “Sit down and speak with this man.”

  Jeremy sat at the table, Shayne and his friend across from him.

  “They haven’t found him yet, huh?” the other boy said.

  He seemed like the bossy type, Jeremy thought.

  “Not yet.”

  “He’s dead,” Bossy Boy stated.

  “Shut up,” Shayne protested.

  The grandfather disappeared in the bushes where the boys had been playing.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the friend.

  “Brad Reynolds. Hey, you’re from England. Where? London, like the Beatles?”

  “The Beatles were from Liverpool,” Jeremy corrected.

  Brad narrowed his eyes.

  “Shayne Michael Lynk! What is this?” The grandfather marched across the lawn with a pack of cigrettes in his hand.

  Shayne’s cheeks flushed. Brad leaned back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his face.

  “Smoking? You’re sneaking away and smoking cigarettes?” He turned to Brad. “It’s time you go home.”

  The friend pushed away from the table and stormed off.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” the grandfather said. “After you finish with the detective.” He went into the house. “Can you believe this? He’s smoking cigarettes in the bushes,” he said to his wife as he shut the sliding glass door.

  Shayne’s eyes welled up with tears.

  You’re a baby. Be a man! A voice taunted Jeremy. His mother’s voice.

  “Not very smart, the whole cigarette thing,” Jeremy said. “You know why?”

  Shayne sniffled and shook his head.

  “First off, it’s against the law. You’re not eighteen yet, are you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Secondly, it’s one of those terrible habits that is hard to break. And you’ll want to break it because it can kill you.”

  “I know.”

  Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “You know? Then why did you smoke?”

  “Because Brad said smoking is what men do and I wasn’t a man if I didn’t smoke.”

  “I’m a man and I don’t smoke.”

  The boy shrugged.

  “Trust me, smoking is stupid.”

  He glanced up at Jeremy. “That’s what Lucas said.”

  “Lucas is a smart boy.”

  “Brad called him a baby.”


  “He did? Why?”

  “He said Lucas couldn’t do anything without his parents. He needed them for school, for friends, everything.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  He shrugged.

  “What else did Brad say?”

  “That Lucas couldn’t survive without his parents, that his mom and dad spoil him and that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be a real kid.”

  “A real kid? What an odd expression. What does that mean?”

  “Lucas doesn’t go to school.” He counted on his fingers. “He has a full-time maid, he’s driven everywhere, they even go to Hawaii for vacation.”

  “And Brad doesn’t go to Hawaii?”

  “Nope. Went to Mount St. Helens once, but that’s only a couple of hours from here.”

  “Do you like this boy? Brad?” Jeremy asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Did Lucas like him?”

  “Not so much.”

  “He sounds like a bully.”

  The boy’s gaze shot up to connect with Jeremy’s. “He is kind of mean sometimes.”

  “To Lucas?”

  He nodded.

  “What about Lucas’s other friends?” Jeremy prompted.

  “He didn’t really have any live ones.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He had lots of friends online. We all do.”

  Jeremy’s mobile vibrated against his breast pocket. “Excuse me,” he said to the boy, stood and walked to the edge of the wooden deck. “Barnes.”

  “You’d better get back here, mate,” Max said. “They got a ransom note.”

  Chapter Six

  Her partner was unusually quiet on the drive back to the Command Center. Mercedes studied his profile wondering what was going on in that head of his.

  Was it something the Lynk boy said or had she upset him somehow? She hated not being able to read this man.

  Yet, back at the Weddle home she could read the feelings in his eyes when he held the little girl, feelings of regret and sadness. Why? He was a young man in his thirties with plenty of time to marry and have children.

  “Why so quiet?” she said, uncomfortable with the silence.

  “I have nothing to say.”