His Personal Mission Read online

  But in fact, he knew it was worry that made time drag. And even knowing Rand was right, and there was little more they could do tonight as it neared nine o’clock, didn’t ease the feeling.

  The town of Summer Harbor, population 2735 according to the sign they passed, was, if nothing else, picturesque. Harbor might be a bit grandiose a title for the little inlet, but it had a small marina full of boats, so Ryan figured it qualified.

  Sasha exclaimed with pleasure when they pulled up to a small house set amid tall trees, through which there was a glimpse of the blue water of the inlet. In spite of his anxiety Ryan smiled inwardly; of course she liked the house, it was yellow. A lighter shade than her own favorite, but still yellow. And cheerful, he had to admit. It must be like a spot of sunshine on a gray day, which was perhaps the reason for it up here in rain central.

  She exclaimed again when they parked, grabbed their bags, and met Rand at the front steps; there was a two-person swing at one end of the covered porch that Sasha immediately pronounced charming.

  “Seems to be the female reaction,” Rand agreed.

  “You don’t like it?” Sasha asked, surprised.

  “It has its moments,” Rand said, his tone bland, but the corners of his mouth twitching. Ryan immediately knew what the other man was thinking; that swing, Ryan guessed, indeed had its moments. And suddenly he saw the attraction of all these trees and the privacy they provided.

  “Kate was renting the place when we met. She loves it, so we bought it last year, and added on an extra bedroom and bigger office this spring.” His mouth quirked upward. “We didn’t realize her old office was going to end up a nursery, and we’ve got a lot of work to do to get it ready, but at least it’s already here.”

  The door opened before they got there, and Ryan thought the smile of the woman standing there when she saw them was nearly as breath-stealing as Sasha’s. It began when she looked at Rand, but grew to encompass them all as she ushered them inside. She didn’t look pregnant, but Rand had said it was early yet. And Ryan quickly saw why Rand was so enraptured; the dark-haired Kate Singleton wasn’t a turn-your-head-on-the-street beauty, but that smile lit up eyes that were an incredible shade of gold-green, and for that instant you couldn’t look at anything else.

  “I’m Kate, welcome. I wish it was under other circumstances. But it will be, soon,” she said, covering all bases with an efficiency Ryan couldn’t help but appreciate. Her apparent confidence that they’d find Trish didn’t hurt, either.

  “Thank you,” Sasha said. “Especially for taking us in on such short notice.”

  “Ryan’s Redstone,” she said simply. “And you’re close enough,” she added to Sasha. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your foundation. And I met your boss once, when I visited Redstone Headquarters, when he still worked there.”

  “Zach? He’s the best.”

  “I felt awful for him, about his little boy.”

  Something tugged at Ryan, some new awareness, born of his worry about his little sister. An image of her tugging at his hand and looking up at him adoringly when she’d been little more than a baby flashed through his mind.

  “And you would know,” he said quietly, gently. “It shouldn’t happen to anyone.”

  “No,” Rand said as he slipped an arm around his wife. “It shouldn’t.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure he could eat anything, but when Kate set out bowls of rich, thick clam chowder and crusty rolls, his stomach woke up.

  “Sun’s up early this time of year, so we’ll get a good, early start,” Rand said as they sat down at the table.

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, but he wasn’t at all sure what that meant. Where to go, what to do.

  But Sasha did. He glanced at her, where she sat to his right, and found her watching him. She wore an expression on her face he couldn’t quite name, but somehow it warmed him.

  Sasha woke up with a start, aware she was in an unfamiliar room in the instant before the world righted itself and things slid into place in her mind. The guest room was more than comfortable. It was welcoming, with its yellow and blue color scheme and the lovely, curved sleigh bed.

  One room or two?

  Kate’s discreet question last night had made Sasha blush, something rare enough to merit some thought later. But she had been tired enough that she’d only gotten as far as wondering, before falling asleep, if Reeve had somehow mentioned something.

  But now, this morning, she knew better. Reeve would never interfere like that.

  Which meant, she thought as she went into the compact three-quarter bath that was attached to her room, there had to be another reason Kate had asked.

  Maybe the fact that you were watching Ryan like a hungry cat last night?

  She grimaced as she looked at her tousled hair and still-sleepy eyes in the mirror. Ryan, she knew, was in what had once been Kate’s office and would soon be the baby’s room, on a sofa bed Kate swore was actually comfortable.

  He would have been more comfortable in here.

  This time her grimace was at her own thoughts. She peeled off the silky sleep shirt—in her preferred yellow, of course—she’d brought and stepped into the shower.

  And you both would have had more fun.

  “Stop it!” she said out loud, and it echoed off the tiled shower walls. The house was equipped, Rand had told her, with Ian Gamble’s version of a tankless water heater, so hot water wasn’t an issue and she could shower for three hours if she wanted to.

  There had been a glint of satisfaction in his blue eyes that had told her he had some experience with that, and she wondered if that was how Kate had wound up pregnant. A thought she could have done without, as images of the possibilities of this spacious shower shot through her mind.

  And you could both use some fun right now.

  Usually the little voice in her head was helpful. This morning it was simply irritating.

  But she couldn’t deny she’d been touched by Ryan’s unexpected sensitivity to Kate’s loss, and for that matter, Zach’s as well. He hadn’t known either of them when it happened, but he’d obviously made the connection and expressed a sympathy that was sincere but not cloying.

  They had been up late, after Kate, pleading a new and unaccustomed need to sleep more, went to bed. They had gone over what they had accomplished that day, and reluctantly looked again at the disturbing Web site.

  “How do people get so twisted?” Sasha whispered, wishing she didn’t have to look.

  “I don’t care how he got that way, I just want his ass,” Rand said grimly.

  “I’m with you,” Ryan said. “I don’t care why a spider’s a spider, not when he’s messing with mine.”

  The words were fierce, the sentiment pure male. Protective. A bit primitive, perhaps, but when you were the one being protected….

  Sasha had the oddest sense that she’d somehow hit a tipping point. It took her a moment to realize it was because in that moment, she was thinking of Ryan not as a boy any longer, but as every bit the man Rand Singleton was.

  And since that was the main reason you had for leaving him….

  “Shut up!”

  She felt more than foolish, snapping at herself, and was thankful the running water masked the sound.

  She hurried through the rest of an abbreviated routine, dressed quickly, and headed out to where she heard sounds in the homey, warm kitchen. Where, to her surprise, the delicious smell that hit her nose was the result of Rand himself presiding over a couple of skillets.

  “He cooks?”

  Rand looked up with a grin. “Good morning to you, too. And yes, he does.”

  “Lucky Kate.”

  “She gets to do the seafood. I can’t seem to acquire that knack. She says sorry to miss you this morning, but she had a meeting at Redstone.”

  Sasha glanced at Ryan, who was off to one side, buttering toast. Tension fairly radiated from him, and she guessed the idea of breakfast had been forced on him, that he’d much rather be on their way.
<
br />   Rand seemed to sense it, too, because the moment they sat down to eat the savory omelets and hash brown potatoes, he spoke between bites.

  “Sorry to discuss such things over good food, but we should plan the attack.”

  Ryan was instantly at attention.

  “I’ve got the list of cars,” Rand went on. “St. John already did the basics, eliminating those that were listed as wrecked or outside the radius we discussed. The ones listed as the right color are on top.”

  St. John, Sasha thought, was living up to his reputation. Frank, even with his police contacts, couldn’t have done it any faster.

  “What if it’s been painted?” Ryan asked.

  “We can’t assume it hasn’t been at some point,” Sasha said, “but let’s not start out there.”

  They’d agreed, given the photos used and that they were all apparently taken “on the rainy side,” as Rand put it, to limit their search to Western Washington.

  “I figure we should start with the closest in to the most common spots he mentioned or showed,” Rand said, “and work our way outward.”

  Ryan nodded, as did Sasha.

  “I isolated the best head shot of the guy I could find on the Web site, and printed out copies,” Rand said. Then, with a grimace, “Should have thought of that at the airport office.”

  “We didn’t know for sure he was involved, then,” Sasha said. “We’ll go back to the lighthouse, see if Marty recognizes him as the man Trish was with.”

  She said it briskly, businesslike, knowing it was going to hit Ryan like a punch. He didn’t speak, but she saw his jaw tighten. She pushed on, hoping that having a plan would help him get through this.

  “We should probably go back to the café, too, and see if they recognize him. Marty might not be there this early anyway.”

  He only nodded, but finished eating in a rush and politely put his dishes in the dishwasher. She followed suit, taking a moment to thank Rand for the meal, for both of them.

  With a glance at Ryan, Rand nodded in silent understanding.

  When they were back in the car and on their way, he seemed to relax just slightly. But he stayed silent, and the frequent tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel betrayed his mood.

  “Were you hoping we’d just get off the plane and find her?”

  He gave her a sideways look. “Hoping? Yes. Expecting? No. I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

  Glad of that, Sasha only nodded.

  The café was bustling, having been open a couple of hours already. It took them a while to corner the couple trying to keep up with the orders. They spared a quick glance at the photo.

  The man, in a Montana T-shirt today, shook his head. But Sandy, her hair down today, took one look and wrinkled her nose.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember him. He used to come in a lot, afternoons. He hasn’t been around in a while though. I’m glad. He gave me the creeps.”

  Sasha felt Ryan tense, but forestalled him with a touch on his arm. “Why’s that?”

  “He always showed up about the time the high school let out. We get a lot of kids in about then. What creeped me out was the way he watched them.”

  “Did he ever approach them?”

  “Nah, just watched. But he always had this smile on his face that…” Her voice trailed off, indicating she couldn’t describe what she meant.

  “Do you remember when you last saw him?”

  She shrugged. “Two, maybe three months.”

  “Boys or girls?” Ryan asked.

  Sandy shifted her gaze to him, her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Did he watch boys or girls?”

  “Oh. The girls.” Sandy brushed back a lock of hair. “He seemed to like the quiet ones. The cheerleader types that everybody else was tracking didn’t even seem to register with him.”

  Ryan said nothing as they left and headed toward the lighthouse on the chance that the dedicated Marty might be there early, but Sasha could sense his tension was even greater than before. From the beginning she had questioned the wisdom of Ryan being so closely involved, but she’d known better than to think she could get him to just let her handle it.

  There was only one vehicle parked at the lighthouse when they arrived, and Sasha thought it had been there yesterday as well.

  “Marty, I hope,” she said as Ryan parked.

  It was, and the woman recognized them immediately when they knocked on the door of the office that took up half of the duplex of the former light keeper’s residence.

  “Did you find your sister?” Ryan shook his head, and she looked genuinely concerned. “I’ve been trying to think, to remember anything else, and—”

  She stopped when Ryan held out the new picture.

  “Was this the man?”

  She pulled up the reading glasses again. Looked at the photo. Then up at Ryan.

  And said the words they’d dreaded.

  “Yes. That’s him.”

  Sasha didn’t look at Ryan. Couldn’t. She didn’t want to see the knowledge in his eyes. Trish was in serious trouble.

  She could only hope that he hadn’t followed the thought to what she, sadly, knew was an entirely possible conclusion.

  Sasha didn’t know what this man did with the girls he used when he was done with them, but she knew enough about his type to know that none of the options were pretty.

  Chapter 16

  Ryan fought the nausea that threatened as images from that disturbing Web site flashed through his mind.

  Trish, what have you done? What have you gotten yourself into?

  “—see him again, would you call me, please?” Ryan tuned back in as Sasha handed Marty a card with her cell number on it. “Trish could be in danger. He’s not a nice man.”

  “Oh, dear,” Marty said. “Of course I will. What a horrible thing, when you can’t even trust a teacher.”

  Ryan went still. “A teacher?”

  “Well, maybe not, but a school person anyway.”

  “Marty, what makes you think he was connected to a school?” Sasha asked gently.

  Ryan wondered how she could stay so calm and speak so quietly when he was about to leap out of his skin. But then, that could be part of what made her so good at what she did.

  “That’s what I was about to say, that I’d been trying to remember. There was a parking decal in the window of his car. Madrona College.”

  “Is that a local school?” Ryan asked, trying to follow Sasha’s lead and rein in his urgency.

  “Yes and no. It’s on this side, but about thirty miles north of here. It’s a community college.”

  “So he could have been a student, adult classes or something?” Sasha asked.

  “Except,” Marty answered, “the decal said staff.”

  “Did you notice if it was current?”

  Yeah, she was good, Ryan thought. He wouldn’t have thought to ask that, even though it was obviously important to know. But he knew they were on the right track. It all fit, too perfectly. A community college, where kids right out of high school might go who weren’t sure of what they wanted, or just to placate parents who wanted them to go, or who were simply afraid of life after school.

  Easy prey, he thought.

  “Afraid not,” Marty said regretfully. “I only recognized it at all because my daughter went there for a couple of years.”

  Ryan was glad Sasha had the calm to thank the woman, because he was way past the niceties.

  “We’ve got him,” Sasha said, touching his arm. She did that, he’d noticed. And had wished the circumstances were different so that he could appreciate it more. “Or we will soon. All it’s going to take is to cross-reference a list of school employees with the registered owners on those hybrid cars.”

  “And how do we get that list?”

  “Call Rand,” she said. “He’s got the contacts up here. Or maybe your St. John can do this.”

  Ryan nodded. He was sure St. John could do damn near anything. He made the call.


  “For once I wish we had a computer handy, with a mapping program.”

  “We do.”

  Sasha looked at Ryan, who shrugged. “It’s in my backpack. I thought it might come in handy.”

  They were headed toward the school, awaiting Rand’s call, hopefully with the information they needed. Rand had agreed with Sasha’s opinion that they not approach anyone; they didn’t want to spook this guy, not before they found Trish. That, she’d told Ryan, was another of the perks of being a private agency; the police had to worry about putting the bad guy away, whereas Westin’s only concern was to find the missing person. If in the process the bad guy went down, all the better, but the victim’s safety was the goal.

  It was Ryan who’d had the idea to look at the registered owners’ list they already had and see what vehicles were registered in the area around the college.

  Moments later she had the laptop open and booted up, and began to plot the addresses from the list. She glanced up when Ryan pushed a button on the in-dash GPS.

  “Mute,” he explained. “So it won’t distract you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, although she was quite capable of tuning such things out when she was focused. Of course, this case hadn’t been her most shining hour for focus. But now that they were following a real lead, she’d do better, she knew.

  “Geez, do these people drive anything else?” she muttered after a while as she entered another address that added yet another pin to the already studded map.

  “We’re about halfway there. What’s the closest address to the highway?”

  “If we stick to the ten-mile radius we discussed—” she looked at the map, found the highway, and clicked on the closest pin “—it’s this one. Looks like it’s about four miles ahead, fairly close. You want to go by?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should just keep going to the school, see if the car’s there.”

  “We could—”

  The ring of her cell cut off her thoughts; they’d told Rand to call her back, since Ryan would be driving.

  “There are three exact matches,” Rand said, dispensing with formalities.