Operation Alpha Read online

  “She just didn’t show up for first period. We can’t find her.”

  Chapter 28

  Liam swallowed, but it didn’t budge the sudden lump in his throat. “What do you mean, you can’t find her?”

  “She’s never missed a day we didn’t know about in advance, not in the two years I’ve been here.”

  “She must have called in,” he said.

  “I talked to some of the staff, including Dr. Halvorson. Nobody knew anything. She didn’t call in sick or late, nothing. Mr. Burnett, she would never do that.”

  Unless some callous jerk hurt her so badly she couldn’t bear to face anyone.

  “Did they call her?”

  “Yes. So did I. No answer. It went to voice mail. I tried texting her, too, and nothing.”

  Liam’s mind was racing, turning over possibilities.

  “I’m worried,” Emily said. “Honestly, she would never just not show up, without a word.”

  “I believe you,” Liam said, all the while thinking that Emily didn’t have two key pieces of information: how Ria had spent last night and the reason she might have to be upset.

  Upset enough to desert her post, as it were? That didn’t fit with what he knew of her. She was dedicated, and it would take more than a jerk like him being a jerk like him to make her do that.

  He was torn. The plan was to see to Dylan, make sure that he was safely at school and that he stayed there until they could explain to him what was happening. Dylan was the job, and his first responsibility. But at the same time, that was all the more reason Ria wouldn’t fail to show; she cared about the boy, she’d been part of this from the get-go and it had been her idea to be with him just in case things went haywire at his house.

  “Do you know where Dylan is now?”

  “I saw him go into the library right before I called you.”

  His mind raced. He needed to keep Dylan away from home. But it wasn’t likely, if he didn’t suspect anything, that the boy would go home in the middle of the day, was it? Unless Kevin somehow managed to call him. Which he might do, when Dunbar’s friend showed up.

  “Can you keep an eye on him until I can get there?”

  “You’re coming here? To Cove? What about Ms. Connelly?”

  He hated this. It was most likely she was just upset about last night. Wasn’t it? And his first priority was Dylan; that was his job right now. Ria would get that. But, by the same token, since she’d been in on the start of this, she’d feel it was her job, too, and she just wouldn’t drop out without a word. He was certain of that. She cared too much.

  Yeah, and about you, too. And you know what happens to women who care about you.

  He told himself he was being crazy, that she was right—none of it had been completely his fault; Jessica and Heather and Amanda hadn’t died solely because of him. But when he threw her into the equation, logic seemed to fly out the window. How could he risk it? Risk her?

  But Dylan was his job, and he couldn’t be in two places at once.

  From the cab’s backseat Cutter woofed sharply.

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  “What?” Emily said over the speaker.

  “I’ll be there in five,” he said, as he pulled back onto the road, calculating how fast he could get there the back way, avoiding the ferry traffic. “Keep track of Dylan for me. If he starts to leave, tell him to wait, that I’m looking for him.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Trust me,” he said. “Or at least trust Foxworth.”

  “I do. Completely.”

  He made it in four minutes. He and Cutter left the parking lot at a run, heading for the library building. About a hundred feet away, Cutter suddenly shifted direction. Liam started to call him back, then saw the two people standing to one side of the building, where the dog was headed. Dylan and Emily. She’d done exactly as he’d asked.

  “Hey,” Dylan said calmly when he got there some seconds after Cutter. It was clear by the easy way he spoke, and how he was smiling at the dog as he scratched his ears, that there was nothing amiss on his radar. Liam relaxed a little. “Emily said you were looking for me?”

  “Yeah. You okay?”

  The boy frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Emily said you got here early.”

  He shrugged. “I was ready, so I took an earlier bus. Dad was in a mood. Seemed best to just get out of there.”

  Dad was in a mood. “What about your brother?”

  Dylan’s mouth twisted. “That’s why he was in a mood, I guess. He said Kevin’s got the flu or something, and he had to find somebody to watch him.”

  “He didn’t ask you to do it?”

  The boy shook his head. “He’s big on me not missing school. Paying a lot for it, as he reminds me all the time.”

  Liam pondered for a moment telling the boy right now. He had the feeling Emily would be a good one to help get him through it. She obviously cared about her classmate. Maybe more than cared about him, from the way she was watching him. But it didn’t feel right, not now. Not without Ria.

  But, then, none of this felt quite right without her.

  “You free for a while?” he asked the boy.

  Dylan looked puzzled but nodded. “I’ve got about forty-five until biology.”

  “Can you do me a favor and watch Cutter for me?”

  “Sure.” The boy glanced at Emily and then looked back at Liam. “You going to check on Ms. Connelly?”

  Liam was a little startled at how quickly the boy had put it together. It must have shown—that lousy poker face of his—because Dylan explained.

  “Emily told me she didn’t show up for classes this morning, and you’re her friend, so I figured.”

  Oh, yeah, he was a really great friend, Liam thought sourly, but he only nodded.

  “What if you’re not back in time?”

  “I can watch him while you’re in biology,” Emily said quickly. “It’s my study period.” She looked at Liam. “If that will work?”

  It would give him extra time if necessary. Emily was, as Quinn had said, a very smart girl.

  “He’ll be fine. He likes both of you. Call me if she turns up or if either of you hear from her, okay?”

  “Sure,” Dylan said as Emily nodded.

  “Thanks.” He bent down to the dog as if saying good-bye but instead whispered, “Guard. Keep.”

  Cutter woofed an acknowledgment of the orders. Not only would the dog watch Dylan like a hawk, he would do everything in his considerable power to keep the boy right here.

  “Tell her we’re worried about her,” Emily said.

  Liam nodded. No more than I am, he thought as he ran back to his truck. While he knew what street her condo was on, he didn’t know the exact address, but it only took him a moment of searching on his phone to find it via her phone number. He drove a little faster than he should have, but his gut was starting to scream at him. Whether it was with self-blame for this morning’s clumsiness with her or fear that there was something else wrong, he wasn’t sure and didn’t dwell on it since it didn’t change anything.

  On the way he tried to call her himself and got the same result: voice mail. He would have assumed she just didn’t want to talk to him if Emily hadn’t had the same result. Ria would never turn down a call from her.

  Him, on the other hand, she’d likely be avoiding like the plague.

  As well she should. He had the track record to prove that.

  I care about you.

  Every female who’s ever risked really caring about me like that is dead.

  The simple truth of it hammered at him. While she could argue cause and guilt with him, nothing could change the concrete numbers. He never should have let her get so close. But he had. And if anything hap
pened to her, it was going to be his fault.

  And this one he wasn’t sure he could live with.

  His anxiety—and his instincts—were at a high hum when he turned onto her street. He slowed in front of the row of six tidy, two-story connected duplexes. They were all painted different colors that still seemed to go together, and each one had a covered porch in front with neatly cared-for yards and a single-space garage on the lowest level.

  He confirmed the location by checking the mailboxes in a bank outside. Her name was on the third box in, but the development had wisely not correlated that to the house numbers, so no one could read the box and know the name of the resident of a particular unit. He parked and started down the sidewalk. He could have guessed the cheerful red unit was hers even without the address, from the wood carving on the front wall, in the shelter of the porch. An orca.

  She didn’t answer the doorbell. Or his knock. He called out her name, although he wasn’t sure if hearing it was him would make her more or less likely to answer. Still nothing.

  He walked around back. Each unit had a small, fenced backyard. He grabbed the top cross rail and pulled himself up. Ria’s was filled with lush greenery, some lingering flowers and a comfortable-looking seating area with a small table. A tree with foliage starting to turn a brilliant red was in one corner, no doubt having provided a nice, shady spot during the heat of summer. It was all tidy, pretty and inviting. Like the woman herself, he thought, then shoved those thoughts ruthlessly back in a cage.

  There was a large, glass sliding door into the house, but the drapes were closed. Through a smaller window to one side he could see partially into the kitchen. The counters looked clear of any breakfast debris and the coffeemaker he could just see the edge of looked clean and empty. And there were no lights on inside that he could see, upstairs or down.

  It had the look of an empty house, he thought as he lowered himself back to the ground. He walked back around to the front. The garage door had a strip of windows in one panel, to let in light. He’d never liked the idea because it gave away not just whatever a person might keep there but also whether or not they were home. At least they’d put this one high enough up that the casual passerby wouldn’t see anything. But he was able to get enough of a grip on the rim with his fingertips to pull up and hang on for a couple of seconds. Long enough to see that her car wasn’t there.

  He pondered his next move. He was aware he was treading a very fine line. Ria the teacher who was involved in what could become an abuse case was on one side, but Ria the woman who had driven him wild last night, who hadn’t just snuck in under his guard but had blasted it to bits, was on the other, and he suspected they would have very different views on him breaking into their home.

  It was the missing Ria that drove him, and moments later he was over the fence and on her back patio. He hoped the neighborhood was as quiet as it seemed; he didn’t relish having to call Dunbar for yet more help if somebody called the local police on him. He checked the glass slider first. The latch was typical and easily broken. She had the standard burglar bar stopping it from sliding open, but it was easy enough to bend the metal track and simply lift the heavy door out of place. He’d have to make sure she installed one of the more secure pins that ran through both the moving and fixed door, preventing just this action.

  He made a silent apology as he stepped inside. The kitchen was dim with the drapes closed, and he left it that way. He verified that the coffeemaker was clean and empty but thought she just might have skipped it this morning. He would have thought she might need it after last night, though. Again he fought down the heated memories. Who would ever have thought there would be such a fiery, sexy woman beneath that calm, almost prim exterior? And yet she’d burned him to the ground last night.

  He made himself focus, moved into the next room, a light, open living area with tall ceilings that made it feel bigger than it actually was. The furnishings looked chosen for comfort more than style but still managed to look like everything belonged. Gray and a dark, bluish green were the main colors, and he liked the feel of it. He liked the feel of the whole place.

  And he wondered, had they met here instead of at Foxworth, if last night would have even happened. Would she have invited him into her home, her bed? A sudden image of his apartment flashed into his mind. His own rather spartan apartment, utilitarian rather than pleasing, since he was the only one ever there. The closest it came to any kind of style were the photos, mostly from back home in Texas, that graced the walls. And he couldn’t even start to imagine inviting her to stay with him there.

  No, this felt like a home, not just a place to crash. Warm, welcoming, like Ria herself. A chill went through him, and he was grimly aware it was at what he lacked, what his life outside of Foxworth had become.

  Sometimes you don’t know how cold you are until you step up to the fire.

  His father had been speaking literally at the time, on a camping trip they’d taken, but the words rang with a different kind of truth in his head now.

  Again he fought to separate the task at hand from his tangled thoughts. He walked through the rest of the place. The den off the living area apparently served as an office. He could see where she docked a laptop for working at home. Here at least he found a bit more chaos, which wasn’t saying much: a stack of papers here and there and a few books stacked on the desk. A small bathroom was next to it, accessible from the whole ground floor. It was cheerful, with more of the dark blue-green and a pen and ink drawing of a pod of orcas frolicking.

  Steeling himself, he headed upstairs, knowing he was going to see that bedroom. A smaller room came first, set up as a cozy guest room apparently, with a tray of things a visitor might need on the small dresser. He peeked into the bathroom next door, and it had the same kind of feel—welcoming, thoughtful for guests.

  He sucked in a breath and walked to the last door, which was partly open. Focus on business, he ordered himself.

  He stepped inside, scanned the room. Bed was made. More of the gray and blue-green, but this time with a splash of red added that somehow made it seem more cheerful. Pillows in those colors piled on the bed in that way that looked nice but always made him wonder what a pain it must be to deal with them every night and morning.

  Nothing jumped out at him. It just seemed a pleasant, soothing, cheerful room. He noted the stack of books here on the nightstand, beside a docking station for her phone and what was apparently a backup alarm clock. The reliable, trustworthy Ms. Connelly would never be late if she could help it. Phone in her pocket so she was always in touch but put on vibrate only if she was driving. Responsible, too.

  Another door was slightly ajar, drawing his attention. The closet, he realized as he pulled it open. And smiled to see a bit of casualness, a couple of things tossed heedlessly. At least, he did until he caught sight of a pair of black heels on the floor. The heels she’d been wearing with that damned little red dress.

  Heat blasted through him. He backed out of the closet hastily, closed the door, but the image of those shoes, and the impossibly sexy curve of her legs when she wore them, curves he’d touched and traced and kissed last night...

  He swore, and it echoed crudely in the calm, quiet room. He didn’t belong here, and he should get the hell out. Out of her home and out of her life. He’d been crazy to let it go this far, but it needed to stop. Maybe if it stopped now, she’d be safe.

  Or maybe it was already too late.

  He spun on his heel, finally doing what he should have done before he’d ever come in here, would have done if he hadn’t been so curious. He shoved all the memories, the vivid images, the thoughts into a cage and slammed the door. His jaw set with determination he headed for the last thing to check, the last and most personal, her bathroom. The roomy space held double sinks, but it was clear she used the one closest to the door; a toothbrush in a holder, a tube of mascara and a couple o
f other makeup-looking things in a basket beside it and a hairbrush were close at hand. Towels in the same colors of gray and blue-green hung on the rack beside the large tub. He glanced at it, not allowing through any of the images his imagination was clamoring to let loose. He looked at the shower, a large space tiled in those same colors, gray with a strip of the blue-green in what looked like sea glass.

  It was dry. He checked the gray towel hanging on a hook just outside the shower door, a glass affair etched with one of her beloved orcas. Also dry.

  Absolutely nothing in the entire place looked amiss. But he would have expected her to take a shower when she got home. Especially after...

  Not going there.

  He turned and headed back downstairs. Looked into the garage once more, but other than a row of shelves with various things stacked neatly, it was empty. He came back in, saw a folder of papers on the table just inside the garage door. He flicked open the cover. He grimaced instinctively and then felt as amused as he could be under the circumstances when he understood he was reacting to the fact that the papers were exams for one of her classes. The amusement faded when he saw they were dated for a class today. It was not like her to forget something like this.

  Now he was restless, unease building. Feeling the need to move, he set about putting the slider back in the track, regretting that he wouldn’t be able to lock the door again. He’d have to make sure she knew and locked it again as soon as she got home.

  A last minute thought occurred to him. He turned, walked back into the kitchen. Pulled open the refrigerator door.

  And found himself staring at the insulated zipper bag on the top shelf. The one she’d told him she always brought her lunch in, prepared the evening before so she didn’t have to do it in the morning.

  She would have fixed today’s lunch likely before he’d texted her last night.

  But it was still here.

  The dry shower.

  The exam papers.

  The lunch.

  His gut knotted, and the cage door in his mind blasted open. Because there was only one explanation.