room. Grudgingly, he had relied on lessons Bob Weston had taught him during the Alverez case. Within minutes of Michelle Tanner’s desperate phone call, Nick had sent Phillip Van Dorn to tap her phones and set up a surveillance around her house. Before midnight Lucy Burton had begun converting the sheriff’s office conference room into a strategy briefing room with maps and enlarged photos of Matthew tacked up and a hot line ready.
This time Nick had immediately called in the county police chiefs from neighboring Richfield, Staton and Bennet for extra feet to scour the alleys, surrounding fields and even the riverbank. His own men had gone door-to-door, instructed to politely ask questions without stirring panic. If that was possible. In fact, he wondered if it may already be too late. Especially after this morning’s drive and witnessing the panic of parents accompanying their children to school. The frenzy had already begun, thanks to his sister. He hated to think what would happen when everyone found out about Matthew. Nick knew he was fooling himself if he thought he could stop the frenzy or even contain it.
The front door of the Tanner house was open. The chatter of voices drifted into the yard. O’Dell knocked on the screen door and waited. Nick would have knocked and entered. Standing so close behind her he noticed she was about six inches shorter than he was. He leaned closer to smell her hair just as a breeze whipped several strands against his chin in a soft caress.
Her fingers brushed her hair back into place, almost grazing his skin. He stepped back and watched her tuck the unruly strand behind her ear, revealing soft, white skin. This morning she wore a dark burgundy suit jacket and matching trousers. The color made her skin seem softer, smoother.
The screen door screeched on old hinges as a man Nick didn’t recognize opened it just enough to examine the two of them.
“Who are you?” the man asked suspiciously, wasting no time on good manners as his eyes darted over them.
“It’s okay.” Hal Langston came up behind him and gently nudged the man to the side. Hal grabbed the screen door and opened it The man shot Hal a look, but walked away. Hal could be as imposing as hell when he wanted. He and Nick had played football together in high school, and although Hal had added some softness to his bulk, he was still in good shape.
“Married life,” he explained when Nick teased him about the extra weight. “You should try it, buddy,” he would always add. And to his credit, Hal had snagged one of the best catches in town.
Tess Langston had moved to Platte City ten years before to teach high-school history. As beautiful as she was smart, she had intimidated all the bachelors who drooled in her presence. All but Hal. For almost three weeks, he had called Nick, who’d been tucked away out East in law school, every night, racking up his long-distance bill. Between torts and breaches of contract, Nick had helped plot Hal’s next move.
Nick wrote snippets of poetry, recommended what flowers- daisies, not roses-and even advised when and where to touch- gentle flicks to the earlobe when cuddling, no breast groping. He had felt as though he was wooing Tess himself, so much so that, when the calls stopped, Nick had felt a loss. It wasn’t until later he realized the loss wasn’t of his buddy, but of a woman he had met only once and had come to know so intimately through his friend that he, himself, had fallen in love.
Hal and Tess had married after six short months, and even today Nick felt a closeness to Tess that he could never explain. Didn’t want to explain, really. He had no idea whether Hal had shared with her the secrets of their courtship, yet sometimes Tess looked at Nick in a way that told him she knew, and that she was grateful.
The Tanner living room was filled with his deputies and with police officers he didn’t recognize. Some were drinking coffee, while others huddled over notes and maps. Nick looked for Michelle Tanner and wondered whether he would recognize her. Last night in her pink chenille robe and red eyes and blotchy face, she had looked drunk and disoriented. Her red hair had fallen partially out of its bun and flew around her head like wild snakes. Her entire small body had seemed to convulse with arms swinging and legs pacing.
The kitchen was clogged with more bodies.
“Who the fuck are all these people, Hal?” He turned and bumped into Hal, who was close behind. O’Dell had wandered over to Phillip Van Dorn, and without any introduction seemed to have Phil revealing all his secrets of the technology he strung around the house.
“It was her idea,” Hal whispered in his defense. “She called a few neighbors, her mother, the parents of her kid’s soccer team.”
“Jesus, Hal. We’ve got the whole fucking soccer team here!”
“Just a few parents.”
Nick elbowed his way through the crowd. Then he began shoving when he recognized the woman sitting at the table, sipping coffee with Michelle Tanner.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he bellowed, and the entire room went silent.
Chapter 21
Before Christine could answer, her brother charged through the group, spilling Emily Fulton’s coffee and almost knocking Paul Galloway to the floor. Everyone stared as Nick pointed his finger at her and said to Michelle Tanner, “Mrs. Tanner, do you realize this woman is a reporter?”
Michelle Tanner was a petite woman, slender to the point of being frail and, from what Christine had already learned, easily intimidated. Michelle’s small face went pale, the large hazel eyes widened. She looked at Christine, fumbled with her coffee cup, then stared at it as though surprised by its click-clack rattle amplified in the silence. Finally, she looked up at Nick.
“Yes, Sheriff Morrelli. I’m well aware that Christine is a reporter.” She folded her hands together, apparently noticed a slight tremor and tucked them under the table, safely into her lap. With her eyes now on her coffee, she continued, “We think it would be beneficial to have something in tonight’s paper… about Matthew.” The tremor was now in her voice.
Christine saw Nick softening. If there was one thing her macho brother couldn’t handle, it was a tearful woman. She had used them herself, though there was nothing manipulative about Michelle Tanner’s tears.
“Mrs. Tanner, I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Actually, it’s a very good idea.”
Christine shifted in her chair, so she could see the woman who appeared from behind Nick. She could have been a model, with flawless skin, lovely high cheekbones, full pouty lips and silky, short dark hair. Her suit draped over a slender, athletic figure with enough curves to hold every man’s attention in the room. However, her voice and stance showed she was unaware of the effect of her femininity. She carried herself confidently and with an air of authority. This woman was not easily intimidated by anything or anyone, let alone a roomful of people who had no idea who she was. Already, Christine liked her.
“Excuse me?” Nick seemed irritated with the woman.
“I think it would be a good idea to involve the media right away.”
Nick glanced around the room. He looked uncomfortable and flustered.
“Can I talk to you a minute? Alone.” He took the woman’s arm, but she immediately jerked it away. Still, she turned to leave the room with him. The crowd opened for her exit. Nick followed.
“Excuse me.” Christine patted Michelle’s hand. She grabbed her notebook. Despite Nick’s fury, she wanted to meet the woman who had just put him in his place. This had to be the FBI expert from Quantico, Special Agent Maggie O’Dell. She wondered what information Agent O’Dell might be willing to supply. Information Nick would keep in a vise grip if it meant protecting his precious reputation.
Nick and Agent O’Dell huddled in a corner of the living room next to the bay window that overlooked the front yard. Several of the police officers stared. Nick’s men knew better and pretended to be occupied with their work.
“I told you he wouldn’t like you being here,” said a voice behind her.
Christine glanced over her shoulder at Hal. “Well, it looks like someone might be changing his mind.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely met his match with that one. I’m going outside for a smoke. Why don’t you join me?”
“Thanks, no. I’m trying to quit.”
