Flashback. Gayle Wilson
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crime, given the second-by-second media coverage that had been going on all day. But it was equally possible, she decided, that a man deranged by the horrors of war and by injury had seen an attractive child around town—
Eden broke the thought, determined not to speculate about this guy’s motives, or his guilt or innocence, until she had more information. “Where is he?”
“I put him in the conference room. I thought that might offer more privacy.”
“For him or the department?” Eden asked, as she made her way across the office.
Winton didn’t answer. She was aware that the two men trailed her as she walked down the hall to the room they used for department meetings.
Operating under the influence of the adrenaline flooding her system, Eden opened the door and then realized she hadn’t even stopped to think about the best way to question someone who might be classified as a prime suspect.
The man who’d been seated at the long conference table stood up, his back suddenly ramrod straight. And for his next trick, Eden thought cynically, he’ll snap off a salute.
“Mr. Underwood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His posture was the only thing remotely military about the man standing before her. Dark stubble covered his lean cheeks. His hair, blue-black under the fluorescents, was badly in need of a trim.
She also noted, her survey automatic, that his clothing, although nondescript, appeared to be clean. The threadbare jeans, white T-shirt and boots were practically de rigueur for a certain type of Southern male, though she’d met enough bright, hardworking “good old boys” not to characterize anyone strictly by his dress.
Still, she acknowledged as she walked across to the table, her reaction was not the same as it would have been had Underwood been wearing a suit. Or a uniform.
“I understand you told Deputy Grimes that you’ve seen the Nolan girl.”
The steel-gray eyes shifted to the doorway. Eden didn’t turn, understanding that the ex-soldier was silently chastising Grimes for not making the situation clear. Neither she nor the deputy bothered to disabuse him of that notion.
“If he told you that, ma’am, he was mistaken. I haven’t seen her. Not physically.”
“Then how?” The question sounded confrontational, which wasn’t the tack she should be taking.
The thought that this man might have harmed a little girl infuriated her. Even if Dean was right, and he hadn’t been responsible, the idea that he could be in any way, shape or form pulling their chain about this—
“I have flashbacks. Yesterday morning…” The soft words halted as Underwood took a breath, one deep enough to move the strongly defined pectoral muscles underneath the thin T-shirt. “A child—a little girl—was in the one that morning.”
“In a flashback about Iraq?”
“This one wasn’t. I don’t know where it was. I was in a place that was wet and dark and cold. Then, just before it all disappeared…there was a child in there, too.”
“Raine Nolan,” Eden suggested flatly.
“I don’t know. The image lasted only a second. It was…almost an impression, rather than an actual sighting. I told him that.” Underwood indicated the young deputy with a lift of his chin. “But after I heard about the kidnapping, I wondered if maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Dean’s question brought the ex-soldier’s head up.
“If maybe I was somehow connected to her.”
“And how would that happen? That ‘connection,’ I mean.” You son of a bitch, Eden thought as she asked her question. If you did something to that little girl…
“I don’t know. It just… The longer this went on, the more I wondered if somehow, in her terror…”
“You told Deputy Grimes she was terrified. If you didn’t even get a good look at her, how could you tell what she was feeling?”
Underwood took another breath, his lips tightening briefly before he spoke. “Because I was feeling it, too.”
“Terrified?”
She was blowing this, Eden realized, her skepticism too obvious. A good interrogator would be more sympathetic. Less hostile. She knew that, but she couldn’t get the images of what a man this size and this muscular could do to a four-year-old out of her head.
“Look, I don’t blame you for not believing me. I just thought I needed to let someone know. Just in case, as insane as it sounds, that there might be some connection between what I saw and the Nolan girl.”
There might be some connection, all right. But not the one you’re trying to sell.
“Why don’t you sit down, Mr. Underwood, and tell us everything.”
“That is everything. I realize you think I’m crazy. Believe me, you aren’t the first.” There was a bitter amusement underlying the comment. “In this case, you’re probably right. As I said, I just thought, if there was the remotest possibility something helpful might come of what I saw…” He hesitated, clearly waiting for their response. When no one said anything, he turned and took a step, obviously heading for the door.
“Where were you Tuesday night?”
It took a second before he reacted, but whatever damage Jake Underwood’s brain had suffered didn’t keep him from figuring out where she was going.
“I was home. In bed. Asleep. And whatever you’re thinking, you can think again. I didn’t have anything to do with that child’s disappearance. I came here because I was trying to help.”
“By telling us you ‘saw’ her in a flashback.”
“Obviously, it wasn’t a flashback. I don’t know what it was. All I know is what I saw.”
“I thought it was just an impression.”
“That’s right. An impression that I was in a dark, wet place with a terrified little girl.”
Until now, despite the absurdity of his claim, Underwood’s tone had been reasonable. As if he were trying to explain things to someone whose IQ didn’t quite come up to his standards. This time, however, there was a definite hint of anger in his response.
And Eden intended to use it to her advantage. “Anybody there with her? Her abductor, maybe?”
“There was nobody else.”
“Well, you see, that’s what makes me wonder.”
“Whatever you’re wondering, you can forget. I told you. I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance.”
“She just somehow…showed up in your flashback.”
“Yes.” The single syllable was cold, controlled, but patently furious.
“What do you think was the reason for that, Mr. Underwood?”
“I have no idea, Chief Reddick.” His sarcasm echoed hers.
“I think you do.”
“I don’t give a damn what you think. I came here because I thought it was my duty to tell law enforcement what I’d seen. What you do with the information is now up to you.”
He rounded the table and walked toward the door. Eden’s gaze automatically followed. The head injury Dean had mentioned hadn’t been obvious, but his stride, though rapid and purposeful, was uneven.
A little less put together than when he left…
With that memory, the rest of Dean’s words echoed in her head, as well. Served his country… Last tour… Hero.
Maybe in her desperation to put an