Читать книгу Home To Stay - Kate James - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

SAWYER SAT ON his sofa, head back, eyes shut. He’d closed the shades. He didn’t want to see sunshine, nor did he care what time of day it was.

He’d never felt so helpless, or so distraught, in his life.

He wanted to rage. He wanted to lash out.

He wanted to give in and break down.

But his lethargy prevented all of it. And what purpose would any of those reactions serve?

They wouldn’t bring his son home.

Not knowing where Dylan was... Maybe injured...

No, he refused to think about that.

As a father, he’d sense if harm had befallen his son. Wouldn’t he?

His parents. Meghan. They’d all wanted to stay with him.

He couldn’t handle company. He couldn’t bear their pain. The weight of his own was intolerable.

He just wanted to be alone.

And he hated being alone, in his own head, with his own thoughts. It was a dangerous place for him right now.

He wanted to be with Dylan, but that was impossible.

The sudden jangle of his phone startled him.

He kept his cell phone within reach at all times. Wishing. Praying. Hoping beyond hope that it would be the police. Calling to say they’d found Dylan. Safe and unharmed.

But whenever the phone had rung, it’d been his mother or father, his sister or a friend.

He picked it up and checked the call display.

It was his office.

He couldn’t imagine what they’d want. He’d advised the dean he’d be off until further notice. When he’d told her why, there’d been no further questions.

So why was Miranda calling?

He nearly put the phone back down, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Sawyer, how are you?” Miranda asked as soon as he answered.

Sawyer leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. How did she think he was, with his son missing for almost two days?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was a stupid question.”

There was nothing to be gained by making Miranda feel bad. She was a smart, well-intentioned young woman. He understood why no one knew what to say to him. “It’s okay, Miranda. Why are you calling?”

“I have a message for you that I thought you’d want.”

“Yeah?” He had no interest in messages. Unless it had to do with Dylan. “Who’s it from?”

“San Diego Police Officer Shannon Clemens.”

Sawyer leaped off the sofa. “When did she call? What did she want?”

“Um...”

He softened his tone. “Sorry, Miranda. Go ahead.”

“Uh, she didn’t call. She stopped by. She left her cell phone number.”

Sawyer wrote it down. “Thanks, Miranda. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Sawyer, I’m so very sorry. We’re all thinking of you and praying for Dylan’s safe return.”

“Thanks.”

Sawyer hung up almost before she’d finished. Shannon Clemens was the officer with the dog. He’d immediately trusted her. She seemed to truly care. She’d given him hope...

With unsteady fingers, he dialed the number Miranda had provided.

Please, God...please, God, he chanted in his head as the phone rang once. Twice.

On the third ring, she answered.

“Ah, Officer. It’s Sawyer Evans returning your call.”

“Oh, Mr. Evans... Sawyer, um, thank you for calling me back.”

“Yeah. Sure. Do you have news about Dylan?” He recognized the sound of desperation in his own voice but couldn’t help it.

“No... I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“But...but...” Now he was stammering. If she didn’t have information, why had she contacted him? “I don’t understand.”

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Dylan, and that I couldn’t find him for you.”

Sawyer brought back the image of the police officer. Youngish. Twenty-eight or nine. She was maybe five-five or five-six, slim, and she’d looked competent and steady. She had short blond hair in an edgy cut that, under different circumstances, he might’ve thought of as sexy. Well-defined features and a full, expressive mouth. And her eyes had caught him. They were a vivid sky blue, he remembered, and they’d had an intensity. Her eyes had told him that what she did was more than a job to her. And when she’d promised she’d do her best, the sincerity in those eyes had made him believe it. But even her best hadn’t been enough to bring Dylan back to him. “You’re calling to apologize?” He realized he hadn’t been getting any sleep and his mind was a mess, but her call made no sense to him.

“Well, yes.”

Her voice was soft. Somehow it dulled the sharpest edges of his despair.

“The department is doing everything possible. The FBI is involved, as you know. I wanted to tell you that I understand what you’re going through and—”

“You understand?” Sawyer tightened his grip on the phone until his knuckles ached. “How can you possibly understand what it’s like to have your child go missing?”

“Not my child. No. But my brother went missing. He was the same age then as Dylan is now. I saw what my parents went through. I was very close to my brother,” she added.

Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been harsh and was sorry about it. He couldn’t imagine anyone understanding what he was experiencing, but she probably could, more than most people. “How much time had passed before your brother was found?”

“A day.”

Dylan had been missing for over a day. Going on two. As a former prosecutor, he knew the statistics about missing children. “What happened to him? To your brother?”

He heard her inhale sharply.

“Charlie got lost. In Torrey Pines State Park.”

Also a forested area with wildlife. Yeah, there were similarities. Sitting back down on the sofa, he took a long drink of the beer that had gone warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.” He laughed bleakly. “I’m not myself right now.”

“How could you be?”

Again, her voice soothed him. “The police found Charlie?”

“Yes.”

The tone of her voice said more than the single word. “Was he hurt?” Sawyer wasn’t sure he was prepared for the answer, but he had to ask.

“Charlie... He drowned in a creek.”

Sawyer pressed a hand over his eyes. He remembered the terror he’d felt standing at the edge of the lake by their campground, and praying that nothing like that had happened to Dylan. “I’m very sorry.”

“It was a long time ago...”

Her voice was sorrowful. Maybe this wasn’t the same, but here finally was someone who could understand what he was going through, without amplifying his personal pain. Being a police officer, she might be able to give him details he needed. Maybe she could keep him from going completely crazy. All of a sudden, Sawyer wanted to talk to her.

He glanced at his watch. No, not today. “Officer Clemens...”

“Shannon,” she corrected him.

“Shannon, can I buy you a coffee? Tomorrow sometime, if you’re free?”

There was a brief hesitation. “It’s my day off. I could meet you anytime.”

“Good. How about the Starbucks on East Harbor Drive? Do you know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Two thirty?”

“That works for me.”

* * *

SHANNON ARRIVED AT the coffee shop ten minutes early. She ordered a latte and sat at a table with a clear view of the entrance.

Since she’d spoken to Sawyer, she’d incessantly questioned the wisdom of what she was doing. Why was she having coffee with a man whose son was missing? What could it lead to, if not heartache? He expected information from her; she was bound to disappoint him. He’d know as much or more from Detective Bigelow and FBI Special Agent Leary than she did from Logan and the departmental briefings.

The last thing Sawyer needed was another complication.

The last thing she needed was another complication.

Sawyer hadn’t been cleared yet as a possible suspect in his son’s abduction, although she was certain he would be, in due course.

And his wife’s? She knew that Bigelow and Leary were taking another look at that. But she didn’t believe he would’ve done anything to harm his wife, either. Still, seeing him today was a bad idea and maybe she should leave before he showed up.

Too late for that. Shannon noticed Sawyer the moment he walked in.

He wore faded jeans. Not the designer type a lot of men were wearing these days. He’d paired the jeans with a blue-and-white striped button-down, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His hair, a deep brown with chestnut streaks, looked only slightly more orderly than it had the day his son went missing. She was struck again by the strength of character evident in his face. The strong jawline, straight nose and sensitive eyes made him very appealing.

He’d lost weight. Was it possible to lose enough weight in two days for it to be noticeable? He was tall, but his build was lanky. He couldn’t afford to lose much more.

She knew him to be thirty-six. She’d read the file. He’d looked his age when she’d first met him. Today? He appeared older than his years. There were deep lines etched across his forehead and bracketing the sides of his mouth. His eye sockets were hollow and had dark circles beneath them, but his eyes warmed briefly as they connected with hers.

No, he didn’t seem like a man who’d harm his own son. Departmental procedures or not, if she could help ease his pain or be a sounding board for him to release some of it...

He raised an arm in a halfhearted greeting and walked toward her. She rose and held out her hand.

His grip conveyed hesitation, despite its strength.

“Can I get you a coffee?” she offered.

“No. No, that’s fine. I’ll buy my own.”

He was back a few minutes later and slid onto the chair opposite her.

“I’d like to clear up one thing, if that’s okay?” Sawyer asked.

Her nerves hummed. “Sure.”

“You’re not here on police business, are you?”

She felt like squirming in her seat, but resisted. She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not.”

He nodded. “I just want to be clear on that. Can I call you Shannon?”

“Yes. Of course.”

He closed his eyes. With an unsteady hand, he rubbed his forehead. “This is all surreal. I have moments when I convince myself that it’s a nightmare and I’ll wake up any minute. Then I realize I am awake, and Dylan isn’t with me.”

He opened his eyes, and what she saw in their depths tore at her heart.

“I don’t know how to cope. How I can go on one more minute, never mind an hour. But then I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Shannon could see by the tensing of his jaw and the pulse jumping at his temples that the effort to contain his emotions was costing him.

“Is there anything at all that you can tell me that I haven’t already heard?”

She wished... Oh, God, she wished there was. Anything that would in any way ease his pain. “I’m sorry. I’m not involved in the investigation.”

“Okay.” He looked away abruptly. Even in profile, she could see the sheen of his eyes, the tension in his features. When he glanced back at her, he seemed more controlled. “I want to ask why you contacted me, but I can’t help thinking that would be rude. So, I’ll ask you another question, if that’s okay.”

She nodded once more.

“How are your parents?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t understand the relevance of the question.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did your parents deal with the loss of a child?”

Shannon went with her instincts. She placed her hand on top of Sawyer’s. “You can’t think about that.” Maybe there was something she could say to ease his mind. “We—the SDPD and the FBI—have no evidence to suggest that any harm has come to Dylan. You have to stay positive.”

She saw him swallow, then clear his throat. “I’m grateful to hear that. Thank you.” He groped for his coffee mug and took a drink. “I suppose you know about my wife?”

“Yes. It was mentioned in a briefing.”

“Dylan hadn’t celebrated his first birthday when she went missing. For the police it’s a cold case, but under the circumstances, they think she died...as do I.” He rubbed the bottom of his nose with a finger. “You probably know all this, but in law, there’s an assumption that a person is alive until there’s reason to believe otherwise. Seven years is the usual amount of time. Then, legally, she’ll be presumed dead, but for all intents and purposes, the evidence—or lack thereof—points to her having died.

“I’ve lived with it. Never knowing with one hundred percent certainty if she was still living or not. Hoping month after month, then year after year that the police were wrong. That one day she’d come back to us. But she never did...”

“It must have been dreadful for you to live with that uncertainty,” Shannon responded. “How did Dylan take it?”

Sawyer seemed surprised by the question. “Oh, he was so young. A psychologist I consulted advised me to keep things as normal as possible for him. I told Dylan that Mommy had to go away. He seemed to accept it, but then the nightmares started.” Sawyer turned away and shook his head. “I suppose even at that age he knew. A few months after the police told me they presumed Jeannette to be...gone, on the recommendation of the psychologist, my mother and sister helped me pack up her belongings. Having everything around probably kept her alive in Dylan’s memory...and made it harder on me.

“At first, I insisted that we keep everything in storage, just in case... I ended up donating all her belongings to charity.” He turned back to her. “I’m sorry. That was probably more information than you wanted.”

“No. That’s okay,” she told him, her own voice not quite steady.

“The police looked at me as a suspect in her disappearance,” he said.

Shannon could see in his eyes—more brown than green now—the torment that still caused him.

“I know they’re looking at me now in Dylan’s disappearance, too.” He made a sound of frustration. “Maybe I’m even the prime suspect because it’s the second time a member of my family disappeared.”

Shannon opened her mouth but had no response, because his assumption was correct.

He held up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Intellectually, I know the odds and I can’t argue with it. Emotionally? It’s a different matter. Most importantly, they’re spending valuable resources eliminating me as a suspect. I’d like them to get on with it and clear me, so they can focus all their energies on finding Dylan and determining who is responsible.” His voice faltered and he lowered his gaze.

“You can’t give up hope,” Shannon said, more sharply than she’d intended.

Sawyer’s eyes, when he raised them, were dark and gleaming. “My question about your parents. When they did hear... How does a parent handle that? I...I don’t know if I could.”

His voice faltered on the final words. It was more than Shannon could tolerate. She rose and sat on the chair next to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “You have to stay positive,” she implored.

He stiffened for a moment, then lowered his forehead against hers.

Not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and rubbed his back, much as she would to comfort a child. She felt a connection to him, but it was so fleeting she wondered if she’d imagined it.

He straightened and raked his hair back, while Shannon returned to her own side of the table.

“I’m sorry about dumping all of that on you.” He seemed to take in his surroundings, as if he’d only now recognized that he was sitting in a public place. His gaze returned to Shannon and she felt that link with him again.

A moment later, he broke eye contact. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re doing.” His eyes softened. “I really do.” He stood and regarded her with sad eyes. “My life is shambles right now. I don’t know how to do something normal like have coffee and a conversation. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”