Because Of A Girl. Janice Kay Johnson

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      Her mouth fell open. “He’s reporting me to Child Protective Services? Like I did something wrong? Is that what you’re saying?” She appeared genuinely bewildered.

      “I can’t speak for what he will or won’t do.” Yeah, that was mealymouthed as hell, but Jack didn’t want to get diverted from the real issue here: a very pregnant fifteen-year-old girl was missing, and despite Ms. Harper’s claim to have dropped her off in front of the school, none of the staff in the office had seen Sabra, Ms. Harper or her gaudily painted Volkswagen van.

      As one of the secretaries put it, “You can’t help but look up when that van pulls up to the curb! It makes me think of the 1960s. The Grateful Dead and all that.”

      He had yet to see the van, likely parked in the detached garage.

      “That’s unbelievably insulting.” Bewilderment had matured into temper. Steam was all but shooting out of Ms. Harper’s ears. “All I’ve done is offer a home and...and supervision to a girl whose own mother booted her out. What should I have done, let her start rooting in Dumpsters downtown for something to eat?”

      “Is the mother paying you to take care of her daughter?”

      “She hasn’t offered.” She bristled. “And I don’t need the help.”

      Pride went only so far, but he didn’t say so.

      “It might have been a good idea to give DSHS a call and explain that you’re willing to keep the girl but need to have some legal authority,” he said mildly.

      “I didn’t think I’d need—” Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose I would have called when she went into labor.”

      “Or even at her next prenatal doctor visit.”

      “I took her to that, and nobody said anything.”

      “Did they realize she was no longer living at home?”

      Her lips tightened mutinously, which made her look even younger than she probably was.

      What kind of flake was this woman? And why had he let himself get diverted again?

      Physically, she pushed his buttons, but she was pushing other buttons, too, ones that flashed a warning red. Just as well, since he was investigating her.

      “Let’s focus on Friday,” he suggested, and watched her turn wary.

      * * *

      TO THINK SHE’D been glad to see this guy on her doorstep. Meg had even, at first sight, found him...appealing. Sexy, a word that rarely to never crossed her mind.

      And, yeah, he was tall, lean and broad-shouldered, with a bony face, light brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Which might have added up to sexy for a woman who was into the expressionless military/cop look: hair worn too short, face impassive, eyes watchful and a gun plastered to his hip. What was he going to do, shoot her if he wasn’t satisfied with her answers to his questions?

      It was bad enough that he clearly thought she’d done something wrong when she took in a teenager who needed someplace to stay. But once she figured out that he didn’t believe she’d ever driven Sabra to school, that he thought she had something to do with the girl’s disappearance, any belief that he was here to help evaporated. “You seriously think the school secretary notices every single vehicle that pulls up in front? Even when she’s on the phone or talking to a parent or student or, hey, making a copy or sticking her head into the principal’s office?”

      No change registered on that face. “It would be good if we could find someone who saw you. Anyone at all. Another parent, a student...? You say you arrived approximately five minutes before the bell rang.”

      How was it that she could hear his doubt even when his voice remained neutral?

      “Yes.”

      “Aren’t there usually other last-minute arrivals? Did you notice any students crossing the parking lot? Another car coming or going? A late bus unloading?”

      “I didn’t, but I was preoccupied. I admit—I was a little annoyed I’d had to drive her. I wanted to get home. I’ve driven Emily to school often enough. It’s not like there’s anything new to see. I paid attention to traffic. That’s all.”

      “And there wasn’t any.”

      “I didn’t even look toward the parking lot. In the drop-off lane, no. I worried she’d be late, but, according to my watch, she should have had time to make it to class if she hustled.”

      “I see.” He didn’t immediately say anything else. Instead, he watched her until she wanted to squirm. But no way would she give him the satisfaction.

      She kept her hands folded on her lap and gazed back at him as if she didn’t have a reason in the world to be anxious or mad. Of course, now she probably looked as intelligent as a cow placidly chewing its cud.

      Finally, he stirred. “Ms. Harper, how do you think she managed to vanish somewhere between the curb and the school entrance? That can’t be more than twenty, twenty-five yards. There are a couple of spindly little trees in planters, but I don’t see her hiding behind one of them.”

      Guilt clogged her throat. “I think she had a plan.” And how she hated knowing she’d been played. “The minute I drove away, she must have gone to a car in the parking lot. Somebody was waiting for her.”

      “What if you’d seen her and gone back?”

      Meg hesitated. “I’d have been exasperated because she was risking being late, but I don’t know if I would have gone back even if I’d noticed her heading into the parking lot. I’d have assumed she’d spotted a friend arriving and was going to meet her.”

      His eyebrows climbed. “Her?”

      “Or him.” Fuming, she exclaimed, “What’s the point of this? I didn’t look back. I wish I had, but I didn’t. If I had the slightest idea what happened to her, I’d tell you. All I want is Sabra to be home, safe.” Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

      His gaze seemed to drill a hole in her, as if he thought he could see beneath her lies to where she’d buried the body. But at last he nodded.

      “I’m headed over to the school. I’d like to speak to your daughter. Do I have your consent?”

      “Yes, but I don’t know what she can tell you. She’s helped me call every friend she can think of. Emily is really scared.”

      “Scared?” Those damn eyebrows were the only expressive part of his face. “That’s an interesting choice of words. Why would she be scared? Does she have reason to think Sabra was taken against her will?”

      Meg’s shoulders sagged. “No. Of course not. It’s just that they’re good friends. Emily can’t believe Sabra wouldn’t have told her if she’d intended to take off. She said...” She had to swallow. “She thought Sabra trusted her.”

      He rubbed a hand over his jaw, appearing, for an instant, genuinely reflective. “Is it possible Sabra did? And that your daughter thinks she’s living up to that СКАЧАТЬ