The Sheriff's Secretary. Carla Cassidy
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the night shadows as they moved in to steal the last of the day.
Fear clawed up the back of her throat as she realized that within fifteen minutes or so it would be night. Where was Jenny? And, dear God, where was her son?
LUCAS JAMISON climbed into his car and headed for the Harrington home, already forming the words to the lecture he’d deliver to his sister when he saw her.
God bless that girl, he thought. Sometimes she just didn’t use the brains that she’d been born with. She’d probably taken Billy for ice cream, or decided to get him a burger at the café and had neglected to leave a note.
He just hoped this little escapade didn’t screw up the living arrangement with Mariah. When Jenny’s last boyfriend had broken up with her, she’d not only lost the man she’d believed was the love of her life but also her living space. She’d refused to move back to the family home with Lucas and had bunked on a girlfriend’s sofa for a couple of weeks.
It had been Lucas who approached Mariah about Jenny renting a room from her. He knew Mariah was a widow, alone with her son, and lived in a big enough house that a renter might not be a problem.
But that wasn’t the real reason he’d approached the mayor’s secretary.
Despite being only twenty-nine years old, Mariah carried herself like a much older, much more mature woman. No-nonsense and with cold blue eyes that could freeze a man in his path, she could potentially have the steadying effect on Jenny that Lucas had never managed. Or so he hoped.
“Jenny, what have you done this time?” he muttered as he pulled up to the curb in front of the Harrington house. He hadn’t even turned off the engine before Mariah flew out of the house.
Her chestnut hair, normally pulled back in a tight ponytail, sprung in wild curls around her petite features, making her look far younger than she appeared when she was at her desk in the mayor’s office.
He didn’t have to ask if Jenny and Billy had shown up. The answer to the unspoken question shone from Mariah’s worried blue eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her usually cool, composed voice holding a telltale tremble.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” he said as he fell into step with her and headed back toward the house. “If I know my sister, this is all just some crazy misunderstanding, and she and Billy are probably down at the café eating pie or star-watching down at the park.”
“I’ve been to the park. They weren’t there.” She opened the front door and ushered him into the small entryway. When she turned to face him, her eyes flashed with a touch of impatience. “And I haven’t known your sister as long as you have, but I know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t just take off with Billy and not let me know where they are. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong.”
She might think she knew Jenny, but Jenny had obviously been on her best behavior since moving in here. “You mind if I look around?” Lucas asked. In the two months that Jenny had lived here he’d only been as far as the front porch. Jenny had insisted that this was her space and she didn’t want him checking up on her. He tightened his jaw. Obviously somebody needed to check up on her.
“Please, be my guest,” Mariah said. “I’ve already looked in Jenny’s room to see if she might have left a note for me there, but I didn’t find one.”
“Which room is hers?”
She gestured down the hallway. “Second door on the right.”
She didn’t follow him, but instead moved back to the front door as if she could make them appear on the doorstep by sheer willpower alone.
Mariah’s house was exactly what he’d imagined it would be—slightly old-fashioned and immaculately clean. As he grabbed the doorknob to Jenny’s room he steeled himself for the chaos inside.
He adored his baby sister, but Jenny had always seemed most comfortable in the middle of chaos and drama. He hoped like hell she hadn’t orchestrated this to get attention. It was one thing to be a drama queen in your own life. It was quite another to involve an eight-year-old boy.
Her room was actually fairly neat, except the bed hadn’t been made and a pair of jeans had been thrown across a chair in the corner. He looked on the night-stand, checked the small desk but found no note, no clue as to where she might have gone with a little boy in tow.
Billy’s room was next door. Bunk beds stood against one wall, the lower bunk not made. A small toy box sat beneath a window. Lucas walked to the window and checked it out. The screen was in place and nothing seemed to be amiss.
The third bedroom had to be Mariah’s. He opened the door and paused in surprise at the sight of the king-size bed covered with a scarlet spread and plump matching pillows. Fat candles stood on the nightstand, their dark wicks letting him know they weren’t just for decoration but were burned regularly.
So, the cool and distant Ms. Harrington had a sensual side. Lucas was surprised by the little burst of heat that filled his stomach at the thought of her in the bed, candlelight stroking her features.
He frowned and shut the door behind him. He flipped open his cell phone and called his office.
“Deputy Ellis,” a deep voice boomed.
“Hey, Wally, it’s me,” Lucas said.
“Hi, boss, what’s up?”
“I want you to get a couple of the guys and check out the café, the bowling alley, the movie theater, places like that. I’m looking for my sister.”
“Problems?”
Lucas hesitated. “Jenny’s late getting back to the Harrington house and we don’t know where she is. I wouldn’t be so worried, but she’s got Mariah’s little boy with her.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll call you back when we find them.”
Lucas tucked his cell phone back into his pocket, then walked back down the hallway.
He found Mariah where he’d left her, standing sentry at the front door. She didn’t hear his approach, and he paused at the end of the hallway to study her.
Though she’d been in town for almost a year, he knew almost nothing about her. He’d heard through the grapevine that she was a widow, and he knew she was a formidable barrier he often had to bulldoze through to speak with the dolt who called himself mayor. But he had no idea where she’d come from before she’d landed in Conja Creek.
As he watched, she tapped two slender fingers against the glass door, as if sending an SOS message in Morse code. Standing at the door, peering out into the deepening night, she looked smaller, more fragile than he could have imagined.
A protectiveness surged inside him and he reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped and whirled around, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“No, I just…” Her eyes darkened to a midnight blue. “Where could they be?”
“Why don’t we go into the kitchen. Maybe you could make some coffee while we wait.”
“Wait? Shouldn’t you be rallying the troops? Getting together a search party?” Her chin rose a notch even as a sheen of tears misted her eyes. “You expect me to just sit and drink coffee while my son is someplace out there in the dark?”
“I’ve already rallied the troops. I’ve got my men looking now and yeah, there’s nothing much to do but have some coffee and wait.” He swallowed a sigh. “Look, Mariah, right now all we know is that Billy and Jenny are late getting home. There’s no evidence that a crime occurred, no indication that this is anything more than my sister’s thoughtlessness. Maybe she took Billy to a movie and lost track of time. I’m sure she’s going to waltz in here before long, and she’ll be shocked that you were so worried. Now, how about that coffee?”
She