Lost But Not Forgotten (21 page)

“Everything’s going to work out,” he said fiercely to halt her morbid train of thought.

He sounded so confident, Gillian sank back and closed her eyes. She fell asleep at once and dreamed of endless, happy nights in the company of Mitch Valetti.

I
N THE LOWER
basement of the Desert City police station, Mitch, Gillian and Ethan clustered around a computer screen, reading the criminal records of Foss Turpin and Lenny Capputo. Ethan had pulled them from the national database.

Mitch leaned away from the screen first, rocked in his chair, and picked up a metal ruler, which he bent back and forth, trying to ignore the burning in his gut.

Gillian slid off her perch on the corner of Ethan’s desk, and cleared her throat. “If those men have been arrested so many times and they’ve done all the terrible things listed there, how can they still be running around free?”

“That’s the downside of police work,” Ethan said, still flipping through screens. “If cops make one minor error in the arrest and booking process, the perp walks. There’s a lot of money driving big crime syndicates. They hire the best, craftiest lawyers money can buy. An even uglier truth is that sometimes they use their dirty money to grease palms throughout a justice system that should be on our side.”

“I hate to appear naive,” Gillian murmured. “But those Lenny and Foss characters have been accused of heinous crimes. They associate with known drug lords, pimps and assassins.”

“They aren’t your average boys next door, that’s for
sure,” Ethan agreed, pausing to open a pack of gum and pass it around.

Mitch’s brooding expression prompted Gillian to continue. “I’ve probably said this before, but I’ll say it again. Daryl wasn’t the type of person to get mixed up with anyone of that ilk.”

Mitch flung the ruler down on the desk with a loud pop. “You
have
said it before, Gilly. So did Sergeant Malone. Tell us more about Daryl. Ethan and I need background details so we can ferret out what triggered your ex-husband’s plunge into underworld activities.”

“Be candid,” Ethan urged.

“Candid? Of course,” Gillian whispered. “It seems eons since Daryl and I met. Funny how a person you think you know so well becomes a total stranger.”

Ethan crumpled his coffee cup and tossed it into an overflowing wastebasket. Mitch dragged a straight chair over, turned it around and straddled it. He patted the seat of the swivel chair he’d vacated, indicating Gillian should sit, too.

“How far back do you want me to go?”

Ethan sent a hard look toward Mitch. “If it’s not too uncomfortable, start where you met and got married.”

“In a Midwest college. We both worked to pay our fees and expenses, which excluded us from the in crowd. We didn’t fall crazy in love, at least not in the way my girlfriends described.” Gillian couldn’t take her eyes off Mitch while she revisited her past. Did he understand that Daryl had never exhilarated her with a touch? Not like Mitch did.

“In the beginning, we met mostly in the library. If neither of us had to work, we’d go to a coffee house and talk. Back then, we talked openly about our feelings and dreams. I majored in horticulture, Daryl in accounting.
After our marriage fell apart, I realized we’d stopped communicating. Twenty hours a day, Daryl immersed himself in his numbers. I kept my nose in gardening magazines. In bed, where most couples communicate,” she said, blushing brightly, “Daryl stayed awake half the night playing number games. He was especially fond of those pattern analysis books available through Mensa. He kept stacks of them beside the bed. Neat stacks.”

“Yet you both achieved your goals,” Mitch said thoughtfully.

“Our professional goals,” Gillian corrected. “We were so focused on career success, somewhere along the way our personal objectives got canceled out.”

A strange expression flickered over Ethan’s face. “Regan and I discussed that very problem recently. Work, family and community activities all conspire to steal a couple’s time from each other.”

Gillian shook her head vigorously. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

Mitch shifted a hip and rubbed at a stitch developing in his side. “We’re veering off track. What does any of this have to do with Daryl taking on a client tied to a crime syndicate?”

“You’re the one who wanted to know everything about him,” Gillian said defensively.

“Let her tell it her way, Mitch.”

Mitch had fallen hard for this woman, and he discovered belatedly that he didn’t want to hear intimate details about her life with a former lover. Glowering at Ethan, Mitch crossed his arms over the chair back. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead on his wrists and slowly counted to ten.

“To make a long story short,” Gillian resumed in a less sure voice, “we moved to New Orleans to be closer
to Daryl’s only sibling. Conrad owns and operates a successful antique import shop there. Daryl and I devoted our lives to making our businesses as profitable as Conrad’s. It seemed to me that he was always challenging Daryl to do better. After a few years, money was less tight for us. I was able to hire part-time help at the flower shop. I thought it was time to start our family. To my dismay, Daryl didn’t agree.”

In the drawn-out silence following her statement, Mitch and Ethan both heard what Gillian didn’t say: Daryl McGrath hadn’t wanted baby Katie.

“I waited six months before taking a second stab at changing his mind. By then he was even more adamant. I take full blame for the decision I made to stop taking birth control pills. At the time, I convinced myself that if I got pregnant Daryl would really be happy. I was wrong. So very wrong. A husband and wife should reach agreement on such an important issue.” Gillian’s voice dropped to a stricken whisper.

Mitch catapulted to his feet. His chair fell over with a crash. “Let’s go,” he ordered, righting the chair, then tugging Gillian to her feet.

Ethan also scrambled up. “Mitch, for God’s sake, what’s gotten into you? We were finally getting to some possible reasons McGrath reversed character and went off the deep end.”

“None of these details changes your job, partner. You have to track down Capputo and Turpin and bring them in for questioning. If a mob attorney shows up to bail them out, you phone New Orleans and request extradition. With Gilly safe in Sedona, I’ll be free to follow them to Louisiana to see who intervenes. Or I’ll hire Bob Wentzel to go.”

“I don’t need you telling me how to do my job.”

Gillian placed herself between them. “Please! I won’t have you trashing your friendship on my account.”

No one moved for a heated moment. Then both men visibly cooled off.

Ethan was the one who finally set Gilly’s mind at ease. “We’ve had worse fights. If our friendship isn’t stronger than a few arguments, it deserves to die.”

Mitch neither concurred nor disagreed. He unfolded the address Noreen Malone had given him and scribbled it in Ethan’s notebook. “We’re going to your house now. Odella should be back with Gilly’s clothes. Then I’ll run home and pack a bag. We’ll swing by Dave’s place and ask him to keep an eye on the ranch. It’ll be late when we reach Sedona. First, we’re going down south to try to buy back Gilly’s car. I’ll drop it off at Impound if you’ll submit a request to have it shaken down for any sign of a key.”

Ethan nodded. “Hey, what are your plans for Trooper while you’re gone? You can’t take him to some posh condo.”

“Maybe Dave…”

“What about Jeremy? He’s been bugging my folks for a dog. I promised him I’d do what I could to convince them. This will give him a chance to see if he can handle school and a dog. Plus, he’ll continue Trooper’s training.”

“Who’s Jeremy?” Gillian asked the question offhandedly.

“My foster brother,” Ethan replied. “He’s still in high school. This month, he’s sure he wants to be a dog handler. Next month, who knows.” A smile wreathed Ethan’s face.

“Or maybe he’ll want to be a cop,” Gillian suggested in a light voice.

Her remark didn’t coax a comment or a smile from Mitch, however. He continued to look like a thunder-cloud waiting for a party to rain on.

She didn’t have long to wait for the deluge once they’d fastened their seat belts and were driving in the direction of the Knights’ house.

“You said you tricked your husband into having a baby.” Mitch’s blunt remark seemed to echo inside the cab of his pickup. “You went off the pill without telling him.”

Gillian exhaled on a long hiss of air. “Wha-aa-at?”

It didn’t seem possible, but the tension that existed between them wound even tighter. “Up on the mountain, you didn’t seem too worried about birth control. Damn, I always take care of…well, I’ve never had an accident before,” Mitch said, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I haven’t needed to worry. I mean…there’s been no reason to until…until…” Squeezing her eyes shut, she massaged her temples. “There’s no reason to think—”

“How do you figure? We went at it hot and heavy. The damned rubber split.”

“I know.” She tried to hide her flaming cheeks by covering them with her hands. “My, ah, over the ten months, I lost a lot of weight. My periods have been really erratic,” she blurted. “I told you that.” Underneath her protests, Gillian suffered a mixture of fear along with an unreasonable ray of hope. While she was afraid of losing another baby, deep down, she’d love to be pregnant. She longed for a child.

Plainly, Mitch felt more like Daryl on the subject of starting a family. But plenty of women raised families alone. She could. She had skills and a college degree.

She also had criminals demanding she turn over something she didn’t possess.

Mitch cast furtive glances in her direction. Mostly he had to pay attention to driving as the traffic on the freeway filled in. “What are you thinking about?”

“Ways to reassure you there’s no cause for concern. I was sick, really nauseated, almost from the moment of conception last time. I feel fine, Mitch.”

“Oh. Well, maybe after we settle into Noreen’s condo, we can check the phone book and locate a doctor.”

“What for?”

Mitch tripped over his tongue. “You know…a female doctor.”

Gillian found herself growing irritated. “A female physician, huh? In what specialty, Mitch?”

His brows lowered into a straight line. “Are you having me on?”

“Yes.” She was dangerously close to erupting. “Oh, Mitch. Tell me why men are so adept at initiating sex, and so abysmal when it comes to frank discussions about it?”

“Who initiated
this
conversation?”

“You did. In anger.”

“More at myself than you, Gilly. I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that about tricking Daryl. I understand how you felt, wanting to have a baby.” He sighed. “But you’re right. It should be a mutual decision. I know a lot of guys who feel their partner’s solely responsible for making or not making babies. I consider it a fifty-fifty deal. So now I feel responsible. The other day, when I saw the condition of the condom, I should’ve called a halt. Instead, I lost all control.”

She debated the wisdom of admitting she’d lost control, as well. It was just as well that she’d learned now,
though, where they stood. Where Mitch stood. Gone were those seductive daydreams—in which her problems disappeared and she lived happily ever after in Desert City with Mitch Valetti.

Clearly, no such notion had popped into Mitch’s head. “Quit worrying,” she said firmly. “Find a new topic, Mitch. We’ve worn this one out.”

“For now. We’re almost at Ethan’s. I see Odella’s car in the drive. Remember, we can’t stay long—we’ve got a lot to do. I hope we don’t have to haggle to buy back your car. Once we drop it off at Impound, the staff will conduct a thorough sweep. That’ll be one thing less to worry about. If there’s a scrap of loose metal hidden anywhere, you can bet your boots they’ll find it.”

“When will they get to the car? If it’s soon and they turn up a key, won’t we have gone to Sedona for nothing? You said it was a four-hour drive from here.”

“Believe me, you won’t mind the drive. Not even at night. Up there, even the stars are bigger and brighter.”

“If you’re so crazy about Sedona, why live here?”

“I wish I’d invested in a piece of vacation property in Sedona when I first moved to the desert. These days the cost is prohibitive.”

Gillian let the information sink in as Mitch parked, got out and came around the car to open her door. His courtliness was refreshing. It was a shame that he fit, in so many ways, her ideal vision of the perfect mate. When had Daryl fallen short? Or had her ideals changed after she’d lost Katie?

Regan met them at the door. “I’m glad to see you two. We expected you back much sooner. Odella’s been waiting. Gillian, your apartment’s been tossed.”

“Tossed?” Gilly paused in the hall where she’d bent
to lift one of the boys. Mark, she thought, as she tried to recall if he had the darker hair or if that was Rick.

“Sorry, cop jargon rubs off on spouses. Searched. Your apartment’s been searched.”

“Tossed is more descriptive,” Odella interjected. “Drawers were dumped. Your sofa cushions were slashed. And I’m afraid there are no pockets left on any of your jeans.” She stepped over a spill of large, snap-together blocks to join the others in the hall.

“Did you let Ethan know?” Mitch hauled out his cell phone. “Were you careful not to disturb the mess, Odella?” As Odella nodded, he muttered, “We’ll have our guys dead to rights if Ethan can match their prints to any in Gilly’s apartment. Unless they wore gloves,” he said more to himself. “Yeah, I think both of ’em had gloves yesterday.”

Regan shut the door behind Mitch and moved everyone down the hall. “I left Ethan a message. Amy said he flew past her on his way to request a car examination.”

“My car,” Gillian announced. “The one I drove from New Orleans, not the one outside. Mitch, if you’re afraid the man I sold the car to will give us a hard time, we could trade him the one I have now. It’s newer and has fewer miles on the odometer. I don’t mind absorbing the loss if it’ll speed things along.”

“Might. Odella, you say Gilly’s clothes were ruined?”

“Yep. And your cosmetics and toiletries were a fright. Not that you had many to begin with.”

Regan scooped Cara out of her walker and kissed away the baby’s tears. She’d been howling over having gotten the device wedged into a corner behind Regan’s office door. “Don’t forget to tell Gilly they emptied out her
bathroom wastebasket and probably know she’s coloring her hair.”