Andy POV
I went back to my room dressed only in pants.
At six-thirty in the morning.
After spending the night in Sharon's room.
I should be exhausted for a variety of reasons - the stress of the case, now four nights in a row with Sharon consuming my thoughts, and the fact that I lasted considerably longer than two minutes.
Both times.
But I'm not tired at all, and I can't seem to wipe the smile from my face.
I'm glad we're in Virginia instead of L.A. because if I had to show up at the office this morning, our secret would be out.
"Andy, I'm sure," she said to me last night as she tugged on my hand, pulling me in the direction of her room.
It wasn't what I was expecting, her propositioning me. Not that I think she was being too forward or anything. I mean, it was obvious to both of us that we were headed in that direction. I guess I just expected to have to romance her a little more. To have to persuade her. And maybe that's not the right word for it, but still…I thought it would be me coming after her, every step of the way.
So the fact that she pressed the issue - even after I showed what I consider to be remarkable restraint by taking her to dinner instead of to bed when she first arrived - it caught me off guard.
And it made me feel good. Really good.
I think I've let Provenza get into my head a little, feeling like maybe it's all me wanting her, and yes, she's been reciprocating recently, but how much of that is because I wore her down, or maybe just because the attention is flattering rather than anything about me specifically?
But once we got into her room, she completely eradicated all of my insecurities.
I went in ahead of her and stopped in the middle of the room, turning to watch her as she closed and locked the door and then she leaned against it as the silence fell heavily over the room.
"We're back to awkward again," she said, laughing lightly.
I almost offered to leave because the last thing I want is for her to be uncomfortable, but she was looking at me so sweetly and seductively that I stood fast, waiting to see what would happen next.
"Ricky teased me yesterday," she continued. " He said he felt sorry for you, that I made you wait fifty dates before letting you kiss me goodnight."
"Fifty dates?" I questioned, smiling as she pushed off the door and moved towards me with purpose.
"An estimate," she said with a shrug. "All of our dinners. And then when you did kiss me, I panicked."
"Is that what it was? Panic?"
"You thought it was rejection," she acknowledged. "And after I realized that, I felt so bad for hurting you, but I still couldn't make myself tell you the truth. I'm not sure I even knew what the truth was until just a few minutes ago."
At that point, I think I stopped breathing. She was standing right in front of me, her green eyes locked on mine, and she reached up to put her palm against my cheek, just holding it there for a moment as she searched my eyes for something, although I'm not sure what, and then she said words I thought I'd never hear.
"I'm in love with you, Andy. I think I have been for a while."
And then before I could say anything, she went up on her toes, pressing her body against mine as she reached up to kiss me, and it was devastatingly tender, as if she were trying to show me through her kiss just how much she loves me, and while my brain short-circuited over this new and unexpected information, my body had no problem responding to her. I wrapped my arms around her, sliding my hands beneath her jacket and running over the smooth silk of her blouse, and she moaned as she continued working her mouth over mine with increasing urgency and purpose, so I took it a step further, and untucked the fabric so that I could move my hands under it and feel her even smoother skin.
At that point, things got frenzied and feverish, with each of us pulling off the other's clothes as quickly as possible, although I did take a brief pause to appreciate the red lace of her bra, and the odd random thought rolled through my mind that I've never even touched her breasts through her clothes and yet somehow I'm about to do a whole hell of a lot more than that. Then she unhooked the garment and let it fall to the floor, so that she was standing in front of me wearing next to nothing at all and I don't know how it's possible that she's even more beautiful in reality than in my imagination, but it's the God's honest truth, and then she slipped her hand inside the waistband of my boxers, pushing them to the floor before running her fingers over me with just the right amount of pressure, and that's when I pretty much quit thinking altogether, choosing instead to pull her down onto the bed with me where I divested her of the last remaining scrap of lace and then as I covered her body with mine and looked into her eyes, my mind incapable of thinking anything other than this is really happening, I pushed into her fully, without hesitation, and she closed her eyes, just for a second, her head thrown back in pleasure, and for a moment, I could only look at her, burning the image into my memory, and then she opened her eyes, meeting my gaze again and a smile crossed her face as she reached for me, pulling me down for another searing kiss, and I somehow managed to muster enough control to settle into a strong, deliberate rhythm.
And I didn't time it, obviously, but it went on for a while. Long enough that we were both sweaty and out of breath by the time we finished
That was the first time.
The second time was only about half an hour ago.
After spending the night with her wrapped in my arms, I woke suddenly to the realization that I never said it back. I never told her that I love her. I suppose I got a little distracted.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the still-dark room.
"You're awake?"
"Hmm. Off and on all night."
"Because of me?"
"Definitely," she said, turning in my arms so that she was facing me, and then running her fingers through my hair. "But in a good way. I'm just not used to sharing a bed anymore."
"I guess I didn't ask if I could stay," I acknowledged.
"I would've said something if I didn't want you here," she answered reasonably, and it was such a Captain Raydor thing to say that it felt like an odd, erotic contrast to have her naked body pressed against mine as she said it.
"Good," I responded as I stroked my hand over her hair and then continued down her back, pulling her more securely against me.
"You tensed up a minute ago," she said, going back to what initiated the conversation. "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"
She suddenly sounds so unsure of herself that it nearly breaks my heart, and I have to wonder if there have been men in her life who simply used her for sex, men who liked the challenge or wanted something from her, but didn't really care about her as a person.
And then I realized that of course that's happened…Jack used to do that to her all the time. She's confided in me about him, about their dynamic. Years of him convincing her that he still cares, getting back into her bed, and then disappearing again not long after.
"I'm not," I said quickly. "Not remotely, not one single doubt or hesitation, not at all."
She chuckled at my emphatic response, and then lightly pressed her lips against mine before saying, "Are you thinking about the case?"
"No. I just realized something," I began, taking another second to get up my nerve, although why I don't know since she already admitted her feelings for me last night. "I love you. And I don't mean I just realized that I feel it, I mean it occurred to me that I didn't say it. But trust me when I tell you that I've been thinking it for a long time."
That's when she kissed me again, only with more heat and tenacity and then she nudged me over onto my back before moving over top of me, and I wished there were more light in the room so that I could see her better, but I went with the sense of touch instead, learning every flawless inch of her. She was more vocal the second time, and I can't imagine a better sound than my name coming from her lips as I brought her to release. It makes me want to hear it again and again, every day for the rest of my life.
"What time is it?" she asked, several long minutes after we finished, as she still lay stretched out on top of me.
I glanced towards the nightstand and answered, "Six-fifteen."
"Damn," she murmured, and I smiled at her use of a curse word.
"What?"
"I was ready to go back to sleep, but I guess it's time to get up."
"Oh, so you're used to having me in your bed now?" I teased.
"Well, I have had you twice, both times in my bed, so…"
Her unexpectedly dirty comment had me laughing. I love her sense of humor, and it makes me wonder what other enticing tidbits I'm going to learn about her.
Plenty, I decided as I entered my hotel room, tossing my jacket onto my bed and then quickly pulling the electric razor from my duffle bag. I only have forty-five minutes to shower and shave and get ready to head to the first of four elementary schools.
I began shaving while laying out clothes, and then I thought about Sharon as she was only minutes ago, wearing my shirt as she walked me to the door of her room.
"What am I supposed to wear?" I asked as she did up a couple of the buttons.
"You don't need a shirt. You're three doors down," she said, smiling as she gave me a nonchalant shrug.
"You're in your room. Why do you need a shirt?" I countered, undoing one of the buttons she just closed and then reaching inside, covering her breast with my hand.
"I don't need it, but I want it," she said simply, her eyes closing under my ministrations and I had the brief thought that maybe we could go for a third time. But I'm a realist and we do have a case to work, so I reluctantly withdrew my hand and redid the button for her.
"It's yours," I said, and then I kissed her soundly before saying, "Get ready, and I'll meet you in the hall in forty-five minutes."
Which means she's most likely currently in the shower. Where I should be, but I'm moving slowly, taking the time to picture what she's doing, now that I have firsthand knowledge of every curve.
Now is not the time for fantasizing, I reminded myself, so I hurriedly finished with the razor and then I emptied the pockets of my jacket and put everything on the dresser. That's usually part of my night time routine, but that routine was shot all to hell last night.
And yeah, I'm still smiling.
As I set my phone down, I saw the light flashing, so I checked the display. Three missed calls and one text, all from Provenza.
I forgot I told him I'd call him back last night. He's probably having a heart attack, wondering what we're doing.
I opened his text message.
Don't do anything stupid.
I shook my head as I typed a reply.
I'm not. We're working. She has her own room - I'm sure you know that because you probably got Tao to pull her credit card statement. We're just friends.
I've said those last three words to him at least a hundred times in the past several months, but he doesn't believe me.
And for good reason, I suppose, I thought wryly.
Although I think the only word in my entire text that was a lie is just. We're definitely friends, and she does have her own room. And I'm not doing anything stupid. I happen to think that being with Sharon is pretty damn smart.
I tossed my phone back onto the dresser and then hurried to finish getting ready, and at exactly seven-fifteen, she knocked on my door.
"You know, I used to wonder how you do it," I remarked, letting her in as I finished tucking in my shirt.
"Do what?"
"You. You're…absolutely stunning," I said, waving my hand, gesturing at her entire body. And I'm not kidding, she is.
"You're biased," she answered, although she still smiled at the compliment. She lingered just inside the door while I went around the room, securing my hardware and grabbing my phone and then reaching for my shoes.
"It's a fact," I said as I sat down on the end of the bed. "And I figured it out, by the way. Last night. It's that you're naturally beautiful one hundred percent of the time, so it doesn't matter if you only have a few minutes to get ready because you just already look that good."
"Those are the kinds of things you're supposed to say before I sleep with you, not after," she said playfully, although her cheeks are flushed with color, and it makes me think that she's not used to compliments, so I made a mental note to do it a lot more often, especially now that I feel like I'm allowed.
With my shoes on, I got up and walked over to her, putting my hands on her waist and pulling her closer to me.
"Before, during, after…all the time. Because it's true," I said, and then I kissed her purposefully because I really like how natural it feels for us this morning, how not awkward, and I'm still glad we're not in L.A., but even if we were, I think we'd be okay. We'd still be able to go to work and be professional.
"You're delirious from sleep deprivation," she deflected when I released her, rushing off in search of my tie that I somehow forgot to set out. I found one, and stood up to put it on, and she pointed me in the direction of the mirror, adding, "And you can't kiss me like that before work, once we're back home."
I glanced at myself and saw the smudges from her lipstick, and I grinned as I swiped at it with my thumb.
"It comes off," I said with a shrug.
She shook her head at me and then meaningfully looked at her watch, and any second I'm expecting the toe-tapping to start, so I reached for my keys and then pulled open the door for her, my tie still hanging loosely from my neck.
She stopped in front of me and took hold of it, knotting it with ease and then sliding it into place, and I'm not sure why, but the action affected me deeply.
"Ready?" she asked softly, her hand lingering against my tie. I put my hand over hers, and I was tempted to kiss her again, but I probably shouldn't push it, since we're kind of in work-mode, but then she reached up and kissed me in such a way that made me think she was affected by the simple intimacy of fixing my tie, too, and then she stepped back and flashed me a smile before moving into the hall, so I followed her and pulled the door closed and we got to work.
It was the last one, of course. School, I mean. We spent three hours visiting three elementary schools, quizzing the secretaries and scouring through yearbooks, but it was the fourth one that finally gave us what we're looking for.
"She does look familiar," the secretary said when I showed her the photo. "Not from this year, though. Maybe not even last year."
She was typing in the computer as she talked to us, so I shared a hopeful look with Sharon and then we waited patiently for her to finish.
"Yes, here," she said triumphantly. "This is her, right?"
She turned her monitor around, showing us an electronic version of a yearbook, zoomed in to the photo of one little girl.
Janie Doe.
Or rather…
"What's her name?" Sharon and I asked at the same time.
"Marcella Hermosa," the secretary said. "This picture is from last year's fourth grade, but you know, I don't think she finished the year…"
She trailed off as she turned the monitor back in her direction and began typing again, and Sharon looked at me and said quietly, "Marcella."
I nodded and then did something I would never do in Los Angeles. I found her hand and gave it a squeeze, letting my fingers trail over hers for an extra second before letting go.
She smiled and started to say something, and then the secretary started talking again.
"Okay, here we go," she stated. "She stopped coming to school in January, the fourteenth to be exact, and normally that would mean she moved away, but no one informed us or requested transcripts."
"Wouldn't her absences have been reported to social services?" Sharon questioned.
"In an ideal world, yes. But I don't see where that happened here. It's possible that her teacher knew, maybe just through word of mouth, that Marcella was moving, but it's also just as likely that she slipped through the cracks."
"Can we talk with her? The teacher?"
"And can we get Marcella's address, the one you have on file?" I added.
She said yes to both, and ten minutes later we left the school, armed with an address and the knowledge that Marcella's mom was possibly remarried.
"She mentioned it a couple of times, that her mom might be getting married," her former teacher told us. "But I didn't realize that meant she would move until she stopped coming to school."
"So you didn't report her truancy?"
"No, it wasn't truancy, it was…" she broke off and then took a breath and started over. "Marcella was a very smart girl. She loved school, and she never missed a day before that, so I had no reason to suspect anything other than that her suspicions proved true, and that her mother remarried."
"What about her sister? Did she talk about her?"
"No, I'm sorry, that's all I know."
"So they moved," I said to Sharon as we walked to the car. "I've been searching here all this time, and this isn't where they lived anymore."
"It's always good to start at the beginning. And it explains the accent," she reasoned. "But maybe Bug was right, too. Maybe they moved to an M state."
"Maryland," I stated with a nod. "Because if the mom was about to get married, it would stand to reason that he's somewhere nearby, don't you think? And if he came into their lives last January…"
"Then maybe he's the reason the girls left," she finished. We looked at each other for a prolonged moment, across the top of the car, and then she said, "Let's check out the address. New owners might have an idea of where the former owners went."
So we drove to Eskimo Hill Road, past the Animal Shelter and the county dump to a gravel driveway that wound its way back through the trees before ending up in a small clearing and in the center of it was a mobile home that had most definitely seen better days.
"This looks like a great place to raise a couple of girls," I said sarcastically as we got out of the car and headed for the porch that was sagging on one end.
"Love is what makes a home," she pointed out, but then I looked over at her and I know she's remembering, just like me, the cigarette burns on both girls' backs. Instead of saying anything more, she purposefully unsnapped her holster and let her hand rest on her weapon as we approached the door.
Not that I think anyone we want is still living here, but you never know.
I motioned for her to wait at the bottom of the steps because I'm not sure if the porch could hold the weight of a house cat, much less a person, so I went up alone and knocked on the door.
It opened almost immediately, and I was grateful that my assessment of the porch was wrong because five cats came running outside as the woman inside stood with her hand holding open the mold-covered screen door.
"Ms. Hermosa?" Sharon asked, and of course she's right behind me because she's not about to stand at the bottom of the stairs while I handle this alone. I looked back at her and she just smiled at me and then shifted her focus back to the woman.
"No, she doesn't live here anymore," she answered.
"Do you have any idea where she went?" I asked as I tried to look past her into the residence, but it was dark so I couldn't really see anything.
"No, just that she was happy to be getting a chance to start over. She gave me this place for practically nothing, just to be done with it."
"What was her first name?"
"Who did you say you were again?" she asked as she looked me over.
"We're with the police department," Sharon said smoothly, leaving out the Los Angeles part.
"Did she do something?"
"Would she?"
"Maybe. I got the feeling them three girls were a little too much for her, and you know, she wasn't all right in the head."
"Three girls?" I asked sharply.
"Don't ask me their names, I have no idea, but Gina's her name."
We talked to the woman a few minutes more, trying to gather every little fact we possibly could, but she didn't know much more, and after a while, we left her alone with her cats.
"Three girls," I said as we got back in the car, and then I slammed my hand against the dash as I growled, "Damn it."
"Andy, we're doing everything we can. We'll find the other girl."
I didn't respond, but just started the car and pulled out of the long, winding drive, and once we were back out to the main road, our cell phones began buzzing.
"I guess we were out of service back there."
"Uh huh. It was Lieutenant Tao," Sharon said as she looked at hers, and then she reached over and got into my pocket, pulling out mine and looking at it before saying, "And Lieutenant Provenza."
"Mine can wait. Check your message first," I said.
"You know, I think I'm just going to tell him," she mused as she dialed her voice mail.
"Tell who what?"
"Lieutenant Provenza. I'm going to tell him that we're in love with each other, and that if he can't get over it, he can just put in for retirement because I'm not going to put up with any of his crap."
I glanced over at her, my mood lightened by her sense of humor over the matter because we both know she's not really going to say that, but I like that she's thinking it, and I like the sound of it…we're in love with each other.
Honestly, before yesterday, I never thought it would happen. And the fact that she's not just giving things a try with us, but that she's truly in love with me…God, how can I not smile about that?
"He found Belinda Jordan," she said excitedly, disconnecting the voice mail and then immediately dialing another number. "They live in Trussville, outside of Birmingham, and…Mrs. Jordan?"
As she introduced herself, I pulled the car over so that I could put my full focus on the conversation she was about to have, sitting and staring at her while she spoke.
"Are you sure about that? Really? When? Okay, do you know what that is? Okay, thank you, you've been such a help. No, I'm sorry, it's…yes."
Her face clouded over as she explained about Marcella's passing, and then she thanked the woman again before hanging up and looking at me with barely contained enthusiasm.
"Marcella's mom got married to a man she met on the internet," she told me. "She moved to be with him, somewhere outside of St. Louis."
"Missouri," I said. "That was your first guess."
She hummed her agreement and said, "Mrs. Jordan doesn't know exactly where they went, and she doesn't know Gina's married name, but Andy…"
"Yeah?"
"Alice. Her name is Lucita."
More than two months of searching to learn the girl's name.
I sat back against my seat, exhaling heavily as I closed my eyes for a moment, and then I felt Sharon's hand closing over mine.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm…yeah," I said, opening my eyes again to find her watching me carefully. "You know what this means, right?"
Because knowing the name isn't enough.
She smiled warmly and squeezed my hand as she said, "I'd say it means we need to go pack our bags. We're going to Missouri."
TBC...
