Authors: Karen Rose Smith
The cameras were rolling again and
Tessa was asking more questions. As he listened to the rest of the interview,
he became more sure about the information he wanted to give Emma. When he
heard Tessa end her questions with, "Tell me how you feel as a widow, with
a four-year-old to raise and no idea where your sister is," he listened
hard.
Emma didn't hesitate to say softly,
"Sometimes I feel as if I'm in limbo. I'm searching for answers and I
don't know if I'll ever find them."
Linc knew he had to tell Emma about
Gillian Bradley and her special gift.
****
When Emma finished the interview,
she felt wrung out. Not a new feeling these days. But after she thanked
Tessa, she turned to find Linc waiting for her. It was easy for her to think
of using his first name and she wasn't sure exactly why.
She'd worn a flowered sundress for
the interview, a dress she often wore when taking sales orders in her gift
basket shop,
Occasional Baskets
. But now she wished she'd worn
something a little more sophisticated...because Linc Granger in his
custom-tailored suit, tie and expensive shirt shouted sophistication.
Who was she kidding?
She'd never been sophisticated.
Hard working and tasteful, maybe, but never sophisticated.
After the camera lights shut down
and she stood, Linc took her elbow. She felt the heat from his fingers through
her whole body. It was an odd, wake-up feeling that she'd never experienced
with Barrett.
Barrett. He'd only been gone a
year. How could she even be attracted to someone else?
Okay, so that's what this feeling
was toward Linc Granger...attraction. So much for that. He certainly didn't
drive his car in her neighborhood.
Linc glanced around the set where
techs were bustling by and men in suits strode purposefully here and there. He
frowned.
Even frowning, his face was
ruggedly handsome with character lines around his eyes that cut deep. From
laughter? Or worry?
Turning his focus back to her, he
asked, "My car service picked you up, right?"
"Yes, thank you. It was nice
to relax for a change driving into the city."
He smiled, and then the smile
slipped away. He actually looked uncertain for a moment, but only for a very
fleeting moment. "We're not going to find privacy here," he
explained. "Even in my office I'm constantly interrupted. Would you consider
taking a drive? I have a place on the beach—"
At her surprised expression he held
up his hand in a "stop" gesture. "This is not a
proposition," he assured her, his voice lowering. "I can even
provide you numbers of a few good friends if you want to check me out. I just
believe we need privacy for this discussion."
And just what discussion was it?
"I checked you out before I agreed to do this interview," she
admitted. "At least as much as I could."
He looked mildly amused. "So,
what did you find when you checked me out?"
"I found out that everything
you do pretty much turns to gold. You went to Cal State for a degree in Cinema
and TV Arts. You directed a couple of small films, afterward turning that
money over into investments. Then you started gathering professionals around
you who wanted to make the same films and then TV shows that you did. You've
produced cable documentaries as well as network hits. But that all involves
business, not your character or your personal life."
"My personal life is off
limits to reporters." That was said without any amusement at all.
"I did find a couple of Google
images with you escorting celebrities or models to charity functions and social
galas. But that really didn't tell me much."
His eyebrows arched, thick eyebrows
over deep green eyes that made her feel a little fluttery inside. Okay, maybe
a lot fluttery inside.
"So why did you decide to do
the interview?" he asked.
"Because I found transcripts
of other interviews you produced. They were honest and considerate of whomever
was being interviewed. I also liked your..." She hesitated. "Your
point of view when we talked. I didn't feel you were going to sensationalize
what had happened to me. You proved it just now when you stepped in."
The nerve in his almost-square jaw
worked for a moment. Then that small giveaway of tension was gone. "I
want to discuss something other than letting the police direct the
investigation to find your sister."
That's all she needed to hear.
"Let's go for that drive."
A half-hour later they were in
Linc's sporty silver luxury sedan, heading toward the ocean. Up until now
they'd made small talk about the interview, about Tessa, about Emma's daughter
who was learning so fast and growing so much. She'd called Becky's sitter
before they'd left to make sure Maris and her daughter could find something for
supper if she wasn't back in time.
At a lull in the conversation, Emma
watched Linc's large hands on the steering wheel. He'd discarded his suit
jacket and tie and opened the top two buttons on his shirt before he'd climbed
into the car. Sitting beside him like this, the atmosphere seemed oddly
intimate as the day started winding down and the sun sank lower on the horizon.
"Not much longer," he
told her.
She sent him a small smile.
"Am I looking impatient?"
"No, just a little nervous.
Are you sure you don't want to call my best friend?"
That probably would have been
wise. But Linc seemed straightforward. "Tell me about your best
friend."
After Linc cut her a glance, he focused
on the highway again. "His name is Nathan Bradley. He's a family man
with two daughters from his first marriage he sees a lot, and a little boy,
Matthew, from his second marriage. He's an internet security expert who flies
all over the country, taking care of important people's networks."
"I like the fact that you put
his family history before his work."
"Would it make you feel better
if I told you I baby-sit for Nathan? I did before he married Gillian and I do
now. Their kids call me Uncle Linc."
She laughed. "Maybe I should
talk to
them
."
He laughed, too, and glanced at her
again. Something intangible passed between them that she seemed to feel in her
heart. How crazy was that?
Fifteen minutes later, Linc turned
off the highway and took a series of turns. After he drove down a long drive,
they exited the car and Emma looked around.
A one-story house sprawled before
her and she could see the ocean beyond. "What a beautiful setting,"
she murmured.
"I like it. It's worth the
commute. We're alone here. If you prefer to walk the beach instead of going
inside, I'll understand."
Alone with Linc Granger. Maybe she
should have trepidations about that, but she didn't. She felt excited.
Because they were going to talk about a way to find her sister? Or because he
was one very sexy man?
Because he was going to give her
information to find a way to find Paige, of course.
"I'll shed my shoes and we can
walk the beach," she decided, taking the safer route.
"Give me five minutes to get
comfortable and then we'll walk. There's a deck around back. Would you like
something to drink?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Be right back."
Emma found cushy chairs and chaises
on his deck, but she was too fidgety to sit. Instead, she stood at the
railing, looking out at the ocean, wondering if her sister was still alive and
if she was,
where
she was. She'd spent so many hours while Paige had
been gone thinking about that—praying, hoping and trying to stay positive. But
how could she when such dark visions invaded the others? Paige's car wasn't
worth the bald tires it had been running on, so no one would have wanted to
hijack her car. Had she had engine trouble again, left the vehicle and started
walking? Had someone picked her up and then—
There were those dark thoughts that
Emma didn't want to have, but knew she had to be realistic about.
When Linc emerged from the house he
wore a blue polo shirt and denim cutoffs. His feet were bare.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready to find my
sister," she agreed.
She kept her shoes on until they
reached the bottom of the wooden steps where grass and sand began. Then she
took them off and laid them on the step. Seagrass tickled her legs as they
made their way across the sand to the packed beach.
As they walked along the shore, the
wind tossing their hair, Linc asked, "Do you believe in things you can't
see?"
Her gaze met his. "You mean
religion?"
He blew out a breath. "No,
that's not what I mean. I'm just going to lay this all out," he said.
"If you want to walk back to my house, get in the car and go home, that's
fine. But I felt this was an option you should consider."
"You're not talking about a
private investigator, are you?" The spray from the ocean misted them as
they left their footprints on the shoreline.
"Sort of."
"Linc, I can't afford one. I
hired someone the first week after Paige disappeared. But he couldn't find
anything and I couldn't afford to have him go on looking. When Barrett died,
he didn't have life insurance. It was one of those things he kept putting off
doing. Thank goodness I had my business, but with insurance costs and the
mortgage, I don't have much left over each month."
Linc stopped and took her arm.
Again his touch made her tummy somersault and her pulse race. But she had to
focus on what they were discussing, not her reactions to him.
"Emma, this isn't about
money. It's about a gift my best friend's wife has. Nathan's wife, Gillian,
works with another friend of mine, Jake Donovan. Jake used to be a cop. Then
he turned to private investigation. But after he met Gillian, his life
changed. For the most part he and Gillian find missing persons, especially
lost children. They started a foundation for this purpose. People they've
helped have donated a lot of money. Funds just seem to stream in because it's
a good cause."
"So Nathan's wife, Gillian, is
a private investigator, too?"
"No, she's not. Nathan found
Gillian through Jake as a last-ditch effort when his ex-wife disappeared with
his daughters. Gillian found them for him. She has a gift. Some people would
label her a psychic. She doesn't think of herself that way. She just seems to
be able to tune in to missing persons. She gets sensations and feelings and in
themselves they're not enough. But when family members are questioned, or Jake
does research tracking down information Gillian gets, they've got a 99% success
rate."
Emma was astonished by what Linc
was telling her. He was a rational businessman and yet he obviously believed
in what he called Gillian's gift.
"Let's walk some more,"
she said to Linc, pulling her arm from his clasp because she couldn't think
straight with his hand on her skin.
Silent as they walked, he glanced
at her every now and then. She could feel that glance, feel his concern and
compassion for her.
Finally she said, "My dad left
after Paige was born. We never heard from him again. My mom was really hurt
by his abandonment. When she felt hurt, she went to church, taking us with her
for the same comfort she found there until she died of breast cancer."
Linc stopped walking again.
"I'm sorry."
She could see he wasn't just saying
the words, he was sorry. And there was a deeper understanding in his
expression that made her wonder about his background. "Thank you. The
reason I'm telling you this is—before mom died, she took my hand and she made
me promise that I would take care of Paige and if I ever had children that I
would take them to church. She thought everyone needed to believe in something
outside of themselves, just like she did and just like Paige and I did."
"Do you take Becky to
church?"
"I do most weeks. She attends
Sunday School while I go to the service. So what I'm trying to say is that I
believe in something outside of myself." She looked toward the ocean and
waved her hand. "I believe in the power behind this."
Facing him again, she requested,
"So tell me more about Gillian."
"The way I understand it, when
she was ten she was hit by lightning. It was after that the sensations started
to come to her. She's a caring person. She loves her husband and son, and
Nathan's daughters accept her as a second mom."
"And she teamed up with a
former cop."
"Jake had heard about her,
looked into her success rate and then recommended her to Nathan. After she
found Nathan's daughters, Jake was a believer."
"Are you sure there's no fee,
Linc? I can make a donation, but I don't know how much."
"They don't charge."
"But you've donated to this
foundation," she guessed.
"I have. I believe in the
work they do."
Emma stared at the sun beginning to
set, the sky shot through with pink and orange. She thought about Paige and
the empty car and dark nights when she couldn't sleep wondering where her
sister was, crying because she was afraid Paige had been hurt, crying because
she was afraid she was dead.
"Let's walk back," she
said, needing to think about all of this.
Linc didn't initiate conversation
as they walked, as gulls screeched, as waves pounded the shore. The tide was
coming in, creating puddles in the sand that she was barely aware of as she
sloshed through them. Linc stayed by her side, walked where she walked, a
force to be reckoned with himself.
She would have kept walking, but
Linc tapped her shoulder and pointed to his house across the expanse of loose
sand and grass. When they reached the steps, she wiped the sand from her feet
and slipped them into her shoes. He let her precede him.