Yesterday's Gone

Eve gave one narrow-eyed look over her shoulder, then escorted her parents out of the room. Bailey heard the deep grit of Seth’s voice speaking to them. From where she was standing, she couldn’t hear every word, but she made out enough to gather he was trying to separate Eve from her parents and failing because they were oblivious. The voices all faded as he apparently walked them out.

She sank into a chair at the long table, wishing she could take off, too. If she knew where to go—

Hostility masking all-too-familiar panic had her stiffening. Who said she had to consult him? She didn’t need Seth Chandler. Yes, he had been nice, but she knew damn well how he saw her. His ticket to fame and advancement. He’d be damn near as famous as she would be. The dedicated, caring detective who worked tirelessly to bring Hope Lawson home despite the heavy weight of his caseload. She could just hear it, said solemnly by a newscaster introducing the story.

Her suitcase was in the trunk of her rental. If she was lucky, she could dodge him and just go. To a hotel that wasn’t in Stimson. Maybe even one all the way south of Seattle by SeaTac. She could fly out in the morning. Call and apologize to Karen. Promise to stay in touch.

She jumped up from the chair, snatched up her bag and made for the door.

A couple of heads turned when she appeared in the hall, but she saw only one person. Seth, striding toward her, lines creasing his forehead. Frustration? Irritation? She couldn’t tell. But his expression changed when his gaze locked on her like a heat-seeking missile.

Her knees inexplicably wobbled. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Detective.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Leaving?”

He gripped her arm. “I thought this would be a good time for us to talk.”

Her heart contracted. “Talk?”

“I want to put that son of a bitch behind bars where he can never touch a little girl again,” he said with controlled ferocity. “Never so much as set eyes on one.”

Without volition, she retreated a step. “I...didn’t realize you intended to do that so soon.” She was infuriated by the die-away tone. Gothic heroine, ready to swoon. Unfortunately, she felt close.

His hand on her arm tightened. “Are you all right, Bailey?”

“No.” She tried to keep backing away. “This has been a really hard day. I don’t... I can’t...”

“Will it be any easier tomorrow?”

This gentler tone weakened her. Damn him, she thought furiously. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push.

“I don’t know, but forgive me if I’m not eager to dredge up the nightmare I’ve spent a whole lot of years doing my damnedest to suppress.”

“You want to let him get away with what he did to you?” His stare was hard now, all cop. Tactic number two: lay some guilt on her.

Trembling, she said, “What I want is to erase him from my memory.”

“What if he’s stalking a little girl right now?”