High-Risk Affair Page 6

  "Drop it, McKinnon. I'm fine."

  As usual, his partner ignored him. "I know you went through hell trying to save those girls, Cale. Everybody knows that. You need to give yourself a break. You did the best you could."

  He was getting damn sick and tired of everybody telling him that. If he had done the best he could, people would have no reason to say the words because Soshi and Mirabel would still be alive.

  "Why don't you take a few more days?" Gage went on. "I can handle this case on my own." •

  "The case nobody thinks we have?"

  "Yeah. That one." McKinnon smiled but there was more worry than humor in it. "We're bound to get a break soon. The kid couldn't have completely vanished. Maybe when the sun goes down and that bitch of a wind dies, the dogs will pick something up."

  He hoped so. He didn't relish watching Megan Vance endure a night without her child.

  "Where do you think we should go from here?" he asked when they walked out of the sweltering mess tent into the even more punishing wind.

  "I thought I would comb through the list of registered sex offenders in the area again and see if anything new jumps out. Why don't you get an update from Daniel Galvez on the search progress?"

  He nodded and they both headed toward the house. They were a few dozen yards away when the screen door banged shut and Megan Vance rushed out the door.

  And McKinnon thought he had a wildness to him now. Megan looked completely frantic suddenly, her eyes huge and shadowed in her pale, delicate features.

  He hurried forward without any conscious awareness of it and before he realized exactly how it happened she sagged against him, collapsing in his arms.

  "What is it, Megan?"

  "Where is he? Why can't they find him? Something's wrong. We've got to hurry!"

  He set her away from him, gripping her elbows. "Slow down. What happened to upset you?"

  She took several deep breaths and he watched her struggle for control. Some of her hysteria began to fade.

  "I don't know. I was in the kitchen talking on the phone to one of the neighbors and suddenly this horrible, black feeling just seemed to ooze through me. He's hurt. I know he is. I don't know how 1 know, but I do. My baby is somewhere hurt and he needs his mother and I'm stuck here doing absolutely nothing to find him!"

  She started to weep. Cale couldn't help himself; he pulled her back into his arms, concerned only with offering the small comfort he could provide.

  "I'm so terrified," she sobbed. "He's so little and it's going to be dark soon. I can't bear to think of him out there by himself somewhere."

  "I know. I know."

  He had no words of solace to offer her. She would recognize anything he had to say for exactly what it was—meaningless, empty platitudes. He could only continue to let her lean against him, completely ignoring the discomfort to his shoulder.

  He didn't think Megan even knew his partner was still there. She certainly didn't seem to even notice when McKinnon gave him an odd look then, blessedly, disappeared into the house.

  They stood lor a long time in the hot swirl of wind while she sobbed and he tried like hell to fight the tenderness stirring to life inside him.

  He didn't want it. He couldn't afford to let this woman with her troubles into his life, to let himself begin to care about Megan Vance and her missing son.

  Maybe it would be better if they were pulled off this case. He was losing all objectivity here and wanted fiercely to make everything all better for her, something he knew was completely out of his power.

  After a moment she stepped away, rubbing at her eyes with the same handkerchief he'd given her hours earlier. "I'm...I'm sorry to break down like this. I've tried to be strong all day but I just.. .I'm afraid I lost it." "Don't apologize. You're dealing with incredible levels of stress most of us can't begin to understand."

  "I'm not crazy, even though I must have seemed like it. Something happened to him. I know he's hurt somewhere. As I said, I don't know how I know but I do. We have to find him."

  "We're trying, Megan. You must believe everyone out there is doing all they can, from Sheriff Galvez to the search and rescue team to the volunteers. We all want the same thing you do, to see your son back home."

  "I know."

  She started to add something more but before she could, the screen door banged again and her sister hurried down the steps, accompanied by a little girl with long red braids and freckles.

  Even if he hadn't seen Hailey Vance's picture throughout the house, he would have known she was Megan's daughter. The resemblance between them was startling.

  "Mommy!" the little girl exclaimed, pulling her hand from her aunt's and rushing to her mother.

  Megan knelt to her daughter's level and folded her into a tight hug, her eyes closed. Some of the tension seemed to seep out of her as she held the girl close for a long moment.

  "I'm sorry," Molly Randall murmured. "After dinner, she wanted her mommy and no one else would do. I thought it might lift your spirits to see her before I settle her for the night."

  "It does," Megan smiled at her sister, then turned back to Hailey. "It's so good to see you, sweetheart. What have you been doing today?"

  "Me and Kenna played Barbies and went swimming and Nate put the sprinkler under the trampoline and we jumped through it. I didn't have my suit, so I had to wear Kenna's."

  "That sounds fun," Megan answered. "We'll find your suit so you can take it back with you."

  "Okay."

  "What else have you done?"

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. "Well, we had melty cheese sandwiches for lunch and lots of people have been coming with food and stuff. Kenna says they're just trying to help find Cam. But I don't see how a tuna casserole can do that."

  Megan's mouth lifted into a semblance of a smile, and he was struck again by how fragile and lovely she seemed, even under these terrible circumstances.

  "When people are having a hard time, their neighbors like to help with food. Sometimes when they don't know what else to do, they bring food over so they can nourish the body along with lifting spirits."

  "I think it's nice."

  Megan smoothed a hand down her daughter's bedraggled braid. "I do, too, sweetheart."

  With an odd catch in his chest, Cale decided his presence was no longer needed. She had her family around her to help buoy her up and he had work to do.

  He turned to leave, but the girl caught sight of him before he could escape.

  "Hi." She smiled shyly. "I'm Hailey Marie Vance. I'm six."

  She held out a small hand for him to shake and he had no choice but to comply.

  Suddenly his breathing felt tight and his blood pulsed loudly in his ears. She was six years old, the same age as Mirabel Decker. As he looked at Megan's daughter, for a moment all he could think about was how much blood could spill out of a tiny frame this size.

  He pushed away the images that haunted him and forced a smile. "Hi, Hailey. I'm Caleb Davis. I'm thirty-five."

  "That's old."

  He decided she probably wouldn't understand if he told her he felt older by the moment.

  Before he could summon an answer, her mother made an embarrassed sound. "Hailey, it's rude to tell people they're old. And thirty-five is not old, just older than you."

  "I'm sorry." When she smiled at him so sweetly, Cale knew he would forgive her just about anything.

  "No problem," he said brusquely, to hide the sudden tumult of his emotions.

  "Are you helping to find my brother?"

  "We're trying."

  "Thank you." She reached a hand out again and slipped it through his, squeezing tightly, and Cale almost thought he could hear a deep, hollow thud as he tumbled into love with this sweet little girl.

  He had to clear his throat before he could answer. "You're welcome. It was nice to meet you, Hailey Marie Vance."

  She smiled at him again and in that moment, he knew it wouldn't matter if Curtis pulled them off the job. No
matter what happened, he wasn't going to walk away from this case until Cameron Vance was home with his mother.

  He had vacation time and medical leave remaining, and he would use every last bit of it if he had to.

  He didn't have a choice here. Somehow in the course of twelve hours, this case had become more to him than simply another missing child.

  "I like your FBI agent."

  Megan froze in the act of folding Hailey's favorite pair of pajamas. She set them carefully in the suitcase along with her swimsuit and extra playclothes for the next day and tried hard not to look at her sister.

  "He's not my FBI agent."

  Molly raised an eyebrow and Megan flushed, remembering the way she had rushed straight into his arms.

  How could she have let her emotions swell out of control that way? She still wasn't sure what had set her off earlier, but she still couldn't shake this niggling urgency that Cam was hurt somewhere.

  She also had no idea why she had turned so instantly to a hardened FBI agent she had barely met—or why his whipcord-lean frame had come to represent such comfort.

  "He has kind eyes," Molly went on, "though they certainly look like they've seen things I can't even imagine. And did you catch how oddly he reacted to Hailey?"

  She had noticed his odd response. For an instant, she thought she had almost seen a look of anguish in the polar-blue depths of his eyes, though now she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.

  "What did you say his name was?" Molly asked.

  "Davis. Cale Davis."

  "That name seems familiar." She frowned. "Wait, isn't he the one..."

  Her voice suddenly trailed off and she jerked her gaze back to the cartload of toys she was trying to stuff into the small suitcase. "Um, never mind."

  Megan glared at her sister. "I hate it when you do that. Isn't he what one?"

  Molly shrugged, looking troubled. "An FBI agent was injured a few weeks ago. I saw it on TV. I wondered if it might be him, but I'm sure I must be mistaken."

  Was she? It would make sense, with some of the undercurrents she had caught between him and his partner. And she had noticed several times during their various interactions how he seemed to hold his left arm a little more stiffly than the right.

  How had he been injured? she wondered. And under what circumstances that might have put that bleak look in his eyes?

  He wasn't the sort who invited confidences. He was a hard man in a dangerous profession, and she would be wise to keep that in mind.

  Caleb Davis wasn't an easy, comfortable kind of man. She had no idea how he could develop a skin tough enough to work in the midst of overwhelming grief and pain and horror day after day without it piercing his soul.

  Or maybe it had. Maybe that raw emotion in his eyes she thought she had glimpsed indicated his skin wasn't as impervious as she might have expected.

  "Mommy, I can't decide which doll to take." Hailey broke into her thoughts by tossing two dolls on her lap. "Samantha is the pretty one, but Holly Hobbie is soft to cuddle when I'm sad."

  She was grateful for the interruption, she thought. She far preferred focusing on her bright and loving child than on FBI agents with secrets in their eyes.

  "Why don't you take both?" she suggested. "Then you don't have to decide."

  Hailey reacted to the simple suggestion with glee and beamed as if her mother were a genius.

  Megan had decided a long time ago that was one of the best things about being a mother. At least when they were young, her children thought she could do no wrong. At nine, Cameron was fast growing out of that phase, at least judging by how upset he had been at her for moving him from San Diego, but Hailey still thought she was brilliant.

  After they packed Hailey's little pink suitcase and loaded Daisy's cage, Megan walked her sister and daughter to Molly's Expedition, parked in front of the house. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and long purple shadows extended across her property.

  The hot wind seemed to be dying down as the sun began to set. She wanted to be grateful for that— perhaps the search dogs might be able to pick up a scent now. At the same time, as the sun set, the temperature dropped and her son was still out there.

  She pushed her fears aside for now, focusing on the routine act of strapping Hailey in the seat belt. When she was secure, she planted a big kiss on her daughter's forehead. "You be good for Aunt Molly and Uncle Scott and have fun sleeping in McKenna's room."

  "Okay, Mommy. Will Cameron be horne when I wake up?"

  "Oh, I hope so, sweetheart." She mustered a smile, though she felt as if her skin would crack apart from the effort.

  She closed the door, then leaned into Molly's open window to press her cheek to her sister's. "Thank you for everything," she murmured to Molly. "I couldn't survive this without you."

  "You're my baby sister. I just wish I could make it all better for you." Molly's chin quivered and tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "Take care of yourself. I'll come back up once the kids are in bed and Scott comes back from searching."

  She wanted to tell her sister she didn't need her, but she had never been good at lying to Molly so she just nodded.

  ♥ Scanned by Coral ♥

  Chapter 6

  7:15 p.m.

  Cameron woke slowly, painfully.

  He didn't know where he was at first, or why he felt as if he had just spent an hour tossing around in a clothes dryer. Why was he lying here in the dirt, whimpering like a baby for his mom? And why was it so dark?

  He blinked a few times and awareness slithered over him like his friend Joey's pet snake.

  In a blink he remembered it all—his excitement at the adventure the night before, then the horror when it all went so terribly wrong, then the long hours of wandering to find his way out again.

  He had fallen, he remembered. A vertical shaft opened up and he slipped down. How far had he turnbled? It couldn't have been too far, or he would be in heaven with his dad by now.

  He sat up, aware of the back of his head throbbing like the time he had a toothache and had to get a cavity filled. If it hurt this bad even with his bike helmet on, how much worse would it have been if he hadn't been wearing it?

  What else had he hurt? He tried to move everything to see if he'd broken any bones. When he straightened his legs, burning pain shot up from both knees. A whimper escaped him but he cut it off as he reached down and found his pants had ripped in the fall. He brushed away tiny pebbles and who knew what else.

  His hand came away wet and he figured out the knee that hurt the most must be bleeding.

  In his backpack he had a small first aid kit, he remembered. He reached for it, but his hands came away empty. It wasn't there!

  He suddenly felt as if he'd eaten a whole peanut butter sandwich in one bite without a glass of milk, as if he were choking on the panic. His pack! All his supplies—his extra flashlight, the last set of batteries, his granola bars. Everything was gone.

  He tried the flashlight still hooked around his neck by the lanyard. It put out a burst of light for about half a second, then sputtered and died. The batteries had gone out on the level above, he remembered, when he had been squeezing through that tight area. That's why he hadn't seen the vertical drop until it was too late.

  He had to find his pack. He had to. He would never survive in here in the dark without it.

  Sobbing with fear, he crawled around on hands and knees, exploring the space around him in hopes of finding something. He had to ignore the sharp pain in his knees and palms, but at last—just when he had just about given up hope—his left hand encountered something soft and wet.

  He clutched it to him with a sob of relief. Why was it wet, though? He quickly discovered the answer to that. Almost all his extra water bottles had leaked in the fall, drenching just about everything in the pack.

  There was a little bit left in one, and he still had a little Jess than half of the other one. He could only hope that would be enough, and tha
t the batteries weren't ruined.

  Working as fast as he could, he found the last two batteries and fumbled in the pitch darkness to put them into the flashlight the correct way. When the beam immediately came on, he cried and laughed at the same time.

  The first thing he checked was how far he had fallen. He shined the light up and saw it must have been only about eight or nine feet.

  He was really lucky. There were vertical shafts in here that were much deeper than that. But how was he going to get back up to the level that he knew would take him out?

  Could he climb it? he wondered. The dirt and rocks around the shaft weren't exactly stable, but he would have to try.

  He didn't have any choice.

  It took him almost an hour and he fell back down twice, but at long last he managed to pull himself back to the top of the shaft. He flopped down on the tunnel floor, not sure what was making him shake—the hunger pangs in his stomach, the pain in his head, or his fear.

  Cam didn't think he had ever been so tired. He was going to have to rest before he tried to go on—he had been up since midnight when he started to get ready to leave, and only had a few hours of sleep before that.

  He let himself have what was left in the water bottle that had mostly spilled out and took two bites of his granola bar. He felt better after that.

  He should probably try to sleep a little, he decided. He would have to, or he would risk making another stupid mistake like walking straight into a vertical shaft.

  He pulled out the survival blanket, rolled up in it and huddled against the wall of the tunnel. He would rest for a little while, then he would see what he could do about getting the heck out of here.

  "You sure you wouldn't rather come home with me to Park City for the night?" Gage McKinnon asked.

  It was almost 11:00 p.m. and most of the searchers had been sent home for the night to rest and recharge, though the command center still bustled with activity as coordinators tried to map out the search grid for the next day.

  "I can guarantee my guest room is a whole lot more comfortable than some stretch of floor somewhere in the middle of a search operation," Gage went on.