New Year Heroes: The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7

She frowned. He had mentioned that before, but she couldn’t imagine Jenny and Billy being hustled into a car off the street or taken from the park … unless they knew their kidnapper … unless they’d trusted the kidnapper. That thought certainly didn’t make her feel any better.

He flipped through his legal pad. “We also know that the kidnapper is watching us. He was in the cemetery the other night, and he knew that we’d gone to the sheriff’s office this morning. Something else that strikes me is that he doesn’t seem to want dialogue, but instead wants monologues.”

She frowned at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward. “Other than the first call that I got and the one that Wally answered, he hasn’t called to talk to us, but rather to leave messages on the machine. He’s specifically chosen times when he knows we aren’t here. He wants to talk to us, but he doesn’t want us talking to him.”

“So what would happen if we don’t leave here? If we answer every call that comes in instead of letting the machine pick up. Would he stop calling?”

“It would be interesting to see,” he replied.

A flash of anger burned inside her. “He might think he’s playing a game with us, but he’s not. Games have rules and when he says there’s a clue, then there should be a clue.” She released a bitter laugh. “I know it’s ridiculous for me to be mad because a kidnapper doesn’t play by the rules I think are fair.”

Lucas nodded, his forehead still furrowed with a frown. “Our two main suspects are Remy Troulous and Phillip Ribideaux. I know Phillip has been financially cut off by his father.”

“Which might make him desperate enough to kidnap for a ransom,” she said. “He certainly doesn’t have the tools to make a living the right way.”

“But … I keep going back to the same problem. If this is about a ransom, then why take Billy?”

“Because he saw the kidnapper?”

He nodded. “Then we have Frank Landers, whom we can’t locate and have no idea if he has a hand in this. And if he took Billy, then why Jenny?”

“For the same reason. Because she saw him and could identify him.”

“I feel like we’re going in circles,” he said in frustration. He swiped a hand through his dark hair, and for a moment she remembered what those dark, rich strands had felt like between her fingers.

“Let’s take the suspects one at a time,” she said, focusing on the conversation. “We can pinpoint a plausible motive for Phillip. Maybe he’s just entertaining himself before making a ransom demand. What about Remy? Same motive? Money?”

Lucas sighed again. “The longer this thing goes on, the less I think it’s about money.”

“What other motive could Phillip have?” she asked.

“Who knows? I know Jenny was talking a lot of smack about him after they broke up. Maybe he’s trying to teach her a lesson.”

“And what about Remy? If you take away a money motive, then why would he be involved in something like this?” It helped, talking rationally about all the players. It felt constructive, and that was what she needed at the moment.

“Who knows what drives Remy? Certainly he’s always walked a line outside the law. I don’t think he was forthcoming in his answers to me about seeing Jenny, but I can’t imagine what he hopes to gain by a kidnapping.”

“It could be Frank,” Mariah said. “The caller is getting off on tormenting us. That’s definitely Frank’s style.”

Lucas reached out and covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did with him.”

The warmth of his hand was welcome, and she offered him a small smile. “I survived. But, as sheriff of this parish, you should know that if I find out he’s responsible for this, I might just kill him.”

“I understand the sentiment,” he replied, and by the darkness in his eyes she knew he felt the same rage that she did.

She pulled her hand from his and leaned back in her chair. “Any other viable suspects?”

“No, and that’s what’s so damned frustrating. Not knowing for sure what the motive might be makes pointing a finger at a viable suspect that much more difficult.” He tapped the recorder. “And what’s driving me crazy is that there’s something about the caller’s voice that’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

This time it was her turn to place her hand over his. “You’re doing everything you can. You’ve got people searching and watching the suspects. There’s only so much you can do with so little to go on.”

He smiled, filling her with a welcome warmth. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be making you feel better.”

“Then who makes you feel better? Why have you remained alone?” During the past couple of days she’d seen a side of Lucas she’d never guessed he would have possessed. It was a tender and gentle side that was in direct contrast to the kind of man she’d believed him to be.

He rose from the table and went to the counter, where the pot of coffee was still warm. He poured himself a cup. “Want one?”

She shook her head, and he returned to the table.

“When my wife left me I decided to devote my life to Jenny. Someplace in the back of my mind, I knew that women would come and go, but that my sister would always need me. She had nobody else. I have my work and I date occasionally, and for the most part that’s been enough for me.”

“But a sister and work can’t be a partner for life,” she replied.

He cast her a wry smile. “Jenny could definitely be a job for life.”

She bit her tongue, not wanting to begin another contentious discussion about his relationship with his sister.

He seemed to read her mind. “You have to understand where we came from. My old man died when Jenny was just a baby and our mother, who was never real maternal, seemed to forget she was a parent.”

He got up from the table as if unable to sit any longer and began to pace the small confines of the room. “Mom was one of those women who thrived on attention and drama. She wasn’t happy unless everything was in an uproar, and she definitely wasn’t happy if she wasn’t with a man.” He paused and stared at the wall just over her head, his eyes dark with memories.

He focused back on Mariah. “Maybe I have been too hard on Jenny. I’ve just been so afraid she’d turn out like our mother. Mom killed herself with drugs. I don’t think she meant to die, but she had just broken up with some loser and I think the suicide was an attempt to get him back. She took pills then called him, but he didn’t believe her and she died.”

“But you’ve accomplished what you wanted. Jenny is nothing like the woman you’ve described,” Mariah said softly. Certainly what he’d just told her helped in her understanding of his relationship with Jenny.

He stared at her for a long moment. “If I’ve been the man you described, if I’ve been emotionally abusive and overbearing to her, my biggest fear now is that I won’t get the chance to change things.”

His voice broke and Mariah rose from her chair and walked to where he stood. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, knowing the torment that was in his heart.

“You’ll get your chance to make things right with Jenny,” she said. “And I’m going to get the chance to see my son grow up.” She said the words fervently, but what frightened her more than anything was she wasn’t sure she believed them anymore.

LUCAS STOOD at the front window, staring into the bright afternoon sunshine. He stretched, attempting to unkink muscles that had been knotted from the moment he’d awakened on the sofa that morning.

He’d spent a miserable night with horrible dreams of Jenny crying out to him and him unable to find her. When Mariah had gotten up, it had been obvious that she’d spent an equally miserable night. Her face had been lined with stress, and exhaustion had placed even darker circles under her eyes.

He wanted to be outside, searching, but he’d determined that the best place for him to be was here, waiting for another phone call. This time the caller wouldn’t talk to a machine, but to him.

Mariah had gone back to her bedroom a little while ago, and Lucas had almost been grateful that she had. Their conversation had been empty and strained today, as if the emotional outbursts from the day before had drained all the energy, all the will from them both.

Enough time had passed, now, that most of the concerned citizens who had come out on that first day to help search would have returned to their jobs, their lives.

Even when a young woman and a little boy were missing, life went on. What if they never found Jenny and Billy? People disappeared every day, and when foul play was involved bodies were often never found.

How would Mariah cope if Billy never came home? She’d survive, because she was a survivor, but her life would never be the same. He felt confident that she wouldn’t remain in Conja Creek, that the town itself and this house in particular would hold too many bad memories for her to stay.

He would miss her. The thought shocked him. In the course of these past days, he’d grown closer to her than he could ever have imagined, closer than he’d been to anyone for a very long time. He felt he knew her better than anyone, but more than that, he felt she knew him.