Andy POV
It's Sunday evening.
I've been here barely more than twenty-four hours and it feels like at least a week.
Not because of the amount of progress, but just because I'm lonely. It's crazy, considering I live alone in L.A., so I'm well versed in the routine of being by myself, but I'm filled with the hope of what could very soon be my life - a life with Sharon - and none of that can start while I'm here.
Motivation for working more quickly, I suppose. And don't get me wrong, I still very much want to learn these girls' identities. I still want to get to the bottom of their sad story.
It's just that I miss Sharon, too.
And I'll admit that I'm a little worried about something going wrong. I hate the timing of everything, that she's finally ready to express her feelings for me, and to accept that I have feelings for her, and yet I didn't get to stick around long enough to make it comfortable for her. I mean, what if she's having second thoughts? What if me going away makes her change her mind, makes her think too much about the cons of having a relationship with me, makes her decide I'm not worth it?
My musings souring my mood, I roughly slid the keycard in the lock on my hotel room, and shoved open the door, turning to kick it closed with my foot while I threw my jacket in the vicinity of the bed.
But we just talked last night, I reminded myself. And she was…sexy. God, was she sexy. I nearly stopped breathing when I heard the quiet slosh of water and realized she was in the bath. And that she admitted it so freely, with just the simple yes.
As if the image wouldn't blow me away.
Later, when she said she was ready for bed, my mind immediately flashed onto a dozen different sleepwear possibilities, some innocent and some seductive, but all of them equally devastating to my self-control. I'm not sure there's a strong enough word to describe how badly I want her. I mean, I have for months and months, but somehow knowing that she knows and that she wants me, too…it's sent my desire through the roof.
I might feel bad about that if I only wanted to get her into bed, but that's not the case. The more I learn about her, the more I want to know about her, and the more time I spend with her, the more time I want to spend with her…it's like nothing I've ever felt.
"So figure this thing out and go home," I said aloud in the empty room. "Before she comes to her senses and realizes she can do a whole lot better."
I sat down heavily in the lone chair, flipping open my notes to read back through them.
Yesterday, after I checked into the hotel, I went to the Stafford County Sheriff's Department. Deputy Martin was cordial, but I could tell he thinks I'm crazy.
"We don't have any missing persons reports for girls matching these descriptions," he told me when I entered his office. Sharon must have given him their vital statistics, in addition to the heads up about my presence. "And we're not big city, Lieutenant. Girls go missing, people notice."
"What can you tell me about Mountain Baptist?" I asked. "The church doesn't exist anymore, but since when?"
"It's been about a year," he answered. "What makes you think the girls attended?"
"The younger one was using a string pack from their summer camp."
"That would be from 2013," he said with a nod. "It was held at a farm off Route 1. But again, I don't see how that's going to help you."
"Can you point me in the direction of anyone who might have attended, either the church or the camp?" I asked, hoping it would give me a starting point.
He seemed reluctant, but he finally came up with half a dozen names.
"But if you get something out of this, I need to hear about it," he warned. "I don't need an LA big shot coming into my jurisdiction and…"
"I won't," I interrupted. "I'm just fishing. If I get something on the hook, you can reel it in."
I guess he liked my fishing analogy because he suddenly smiled at me, and then he reached for a file on his desk.
"There are four elementary schools in the county. You won't get anyone until Monday, but if you stop by then and check with the front office, maybe one of the secretaries will recognize the younger one. You said she was ten, right?"
"That's right," I agreed, gratefully accepting the file. "And the older one was fifteen, so…high schools?"
"Much bigger and a whole lot more anonymity," he said with a shrug. "Your best bet is finding the little one first, and getting a name."
I thanked him and left, driving down to Fredericksburg to get a look at the Build-A-Bear. I'm not sure what I thought I'd get from seeing the store, except maybe context. Where else nearby might Janie have shopped? Would she have come alone, or with her mother? I'm trying not to even think about there being a little sister. If there is, I'm not solving this thing fast enough.
What I found in Fredericksburg was an average suburban mall, with the Build-A-Bear store inside. Teenage sales clerks, no video surveillance, and short-term memories.
"We sold out of those last spring," the clerk called after me. I guess the helpful tidbit had escaped her until I was on my way out the door.
"Last spring? And you haven't gotten anymore?"
"No, it was a one-time thing. We only got three dozen, and when they were gone, they were gone."
"When did you get them?"
"I don't know. Last Christmas maybe? Or Thanksgiving? I know it took about six months to sell them, which is why we didn't get anymore."
I like having the window for when Janie got the stuffed animal, but I was also a little disappointed. If the store still had them, I would've bought one for Sharon. Juvenile, maybe, but come on…it means universal beauty. How could I pass up giving her such a gift when to me, she's the epitome of universal beauty? Intelligence, wit, savvy, caring, thoughtfulness in addition to her extraordinary physical attributes...she's just absolute perfection. I wonder if there's a gift that symbolizes that.
After my visit to the mall, I stopped and got something to eat and then I drove back to my hotel. It was too late to do much more, since it was already nearly eleven. I had to save most of the legwork for today.
I wasn't going to call Sharon because I knew she was busy with the serial case, especially being a detective down, but then I got a text from Provenza, telling me that they were just finishing up for the night - and of course he asked me for the tenth time what the hell I think I'm doing, investigating a case that isn't ours - so then I figured I'd give her an hour to drive home and get comfortable and then I'd call.
I didn't expect that I'd catch her in the bath.
I've thought about that no less than two dozen times today, and sitting in the chair this evening, with the folder in my lap, I'm thinking about it again.
Did she light candles? Use fragrant bath salts? Bubbles?
God, it's killing me.
Even though I've never seen it in reality, it's not hard for me to picture her, standing in a bathroom lit only by candles, the steam from the bath filling the room as she slowly unbuttons her blouse until it slides to the floor, and then she unzips her skirt, pushing it off her hips so that it falls at her feet…
Is it any wonder I barely slept at all, for thinking about her?
It's finally catching up to me, too, considering it's been three nights in a row that she's taken over my mind in the late night hours, so I leaned my head back and let my eyes fall closed.
My mind is still working, though. It's only eight o'clock, and I've had a full day.
I actually found two people who recognized Janie from the photo, people who went to Mountain Baptist Church.
"Alana," one woman said confidently, and then she looked at her husband and asked, "Right?"
He shrugged and then she said, more to him than to me, "Or Arianna. Maybe Adrienne? It's something like that. She came a few times, with that little girl who used to live down that road…you remember, honey, Belinda something or other. She and her family moved a few months ago, somewhere up north I think. But I know this is the girl who came with her."
Another former church member, one who worked at the camp last summer, said she looked familiar to her.
"Marianne," she told me. "I think. She didn't talk much, and I only saw her the one summer. She might have come to a few services with another girl."
"So…Marianne?" I pushed.
"No. Melena? It's an M name."
Like Virginia is an M state, I thought in frustration.
"What about a girl named Belinda?" I asked. "Do you remember her?"
"Belinda Jordan," she said with a nod. "She moved to Alabama last summer."
"Alabama?" I questioned, since the other woman said up north.
"I think so. Birmingham, most likely. Her daddy worked for Coca-Cola."
I interviewed a total of nineteen people today, and I sent Tao an email, asking if he could possibly find a Belinda Jordan registered at any elementary or middle school in the Birmingham area, or a man with the last name Jordan working for Coke, and then I went back to Fredericksburg to check out the bus depot, showing Janie's picture to all of the employees, but again, striking out.
And that surprised me because if she took the bus from here, it would've been only about a week ago, and surely someone would've at least thought she looked familiar, even if they didn't know her name.
I could feel myself fading out as I continued to sit in the chair in the silent room, and I let it happen, figuring I won't sleep too long, and when I wake up, I can call Sharon.
I've barely heard from her all day.
A text this morning.
We're closing in on our suspect - hope to make an arrest today.
I responded.
Be careful. Call me afterwards, when you have time.
She hasn't called. I know it can take time, bringing in a guy like that, but I also know that a lot of serial killers prefer suicide by cop rather than arrest. The idea of her being involved in a gunfight…I can't even think about it. I know it's part of the job and that it happens, but damn it, I should be there watching her back.
And the fact that I haven't heard from her, not even a text…
I sat up suddenly in the chair, my thoughts sending a shot of adrenaline through me.
It's five o'clock in L.A., seven hours since she texted.
Seven hours, I thought again as I reached for my phone. In all that time, she didn't have a spare second to text me?
Although I haven't texted her, either. But I was waiting for her.
Because we're both working, and she said she'd call…
The display on my phone is blank, so I haven't missed anything. I got up and tossed the file onto the bed with my jacket, and then tried to think rationally.
I'm being paranoid.
She's a police captain, involved in an important bust today. There'll be a press conference, and reporting to Taylor and that's after she gets him into custody and interrogates him, possibly gets a confession. All of that takes time.
Okay, so…she's fine.
And she still wants me.
She'll call.
As I had the thought, my phone rang, but when I checked the display, I saw it was Provenza, and that freaked me out even more.
"What is it?" I answered quickly.
"What? What's what?"
"What's going on?" I asked him.
"I'm the one asking you that question," he retorted. "So you tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Oh for Christ's sake, Flynn. Just spill it."
"Spill what?" I shouted. "You called me, remember? Is everything okay?"
"Is it okay? You mean, is my captain dating my partner?" he yelled, and then he made a snort of disgust as he started on a rant. "I told you it wasn't a good idea. I told you not to pursue her. And now she feels sorry for you, or something, and you'll be all cozy for a few weeks, and then it'll turn bad, and that means it turns bad for all of us because you know it won't stay out of the office."
While I have no idea what prompted his irritation, I am relieved that Sharon must at least be physically fine, or he would've said it right away.
So if she hasn't called me, and they're done working, then maybe it's that she's having doubts about me…
"Hey!" I said sharply, once he let me get a word in edgewise. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Vacation days," he groused. "You. Her. Same time. Coincidence? Not a chance."
Before I could wrap my mind around what he was saying, there was a knock on my door, and my heart went into my throat as I roughly said, "I'll call you back," and then I hung up on my partner, throwing the phone onto the growing pile of things on the bed before opening the door.
The sight of her standing in my doorway, after how much I've missed her, and how worried I was that she might change her mind…I swear, it nearly brought me to tears.
And have I mentioned she looks beautiful? Catching a serial killer this morning, and then flying across the country, followed by renting a car and driving south through D.C. traffic, and she's still the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in my life.
"We finished the case, so I thought you could use some help, and I had a few days to spare," she said, sounding slightly uneasy, like maybe I won't be ecstatic to see her, and I still haven't found my voice, but I did manage to spur my body into action.
I wrapped my arms around her, very possibly holding her too tight, but I couldn't make myself ease up at all, because I'm just so damn happy to see her.
I mean, there aren't any words to express my sense of overwhelming pleasure at the sight of her.
But I don't think I need them, because she's here and she's holding me back just as tightly, and that's really all that matters.
TBC...
