Page 40 of A River of Crows

“I did. Nothing points to Daughtry. Just your dad.”

“Then who tried to take me? What bad men were after me?”

“Ask Caroline,” Noah said. “It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. And . . .” Noah rubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll pass Ridge’s file to the chief; tell him it was around the same time as Logan and Dylan. See if he thinks it’s worth looking into.”

Sloan closed her eyes, letting the relief set in. “Thank you.” She reached across the desk and placed her hand on top of Noah’s.

He lowered his eyes to their hands as if he wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. Just as Sloan was about to retract her hand, Noah rotated his own until their palms touched. His skin was clammy and cold. His touch still made every nerve ending stir.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. They stared at each other, hands touching, but neither holding on. They were kids again, silently daring each other to make the first move.

It took a knock on the door for them to separate. Noah retracted his hand as if Sloan were a hot stove he’d accidentally touched. “Come in.”

Sloan grabbed her purse and pretended to be searching for something when the receptionist entered, but she felt the old woman's eyes on her.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Dawson, but Vickie is on the line. Didn’t want to interrupt um . . . this, but she needs you to get Hudson from preschool. She texted you.”

Noah patted his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Crap. Yeah, I can get Hud. Put Vickie through if she’s still holding.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sloan wrestled her purse over her body and stood. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Noah stood too. “No, it’s fine. Good to see you again. I’d walk you out, but . . .” he gestured to the phone. As if on cue, it rang.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Give Vickie my best.”

“Will do.” Noah smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sloan knew he wouldn’t mention her to Vickie. That exchange was just an attempt by both of them to relieve guilt. Nothing to hide here.

Not that there was anything to hide. It was only a touch. Nothing else happened. Nothing else would have happened. Even so, Sloan couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with the receptionist as she left the station.

Sloan waited till Caroline was asleep to find Leo Jackson’s number. She had to hear his version of events herself.

He told her he couldn't remember much about the would-be kidnapper’s appearance. Just that he was average height, thin, and wore a black hoodie. Eddie Daughtry was average height and thin, but Leo was certain he would have recognized him.

And though Leo had set off the alarm, he called off the cops at her mother's pleading. He said Caroline had been hysterical and practically got on her hands and knees to beg, claiming involving the police would only put Sloan in more danger.

“She said she had a plan to get you to safety, but when I saw her a few months later and asked, she seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.” Leo sighed into the phone. “She already had those mind troubles then.”

Mind troubles. That was an awfully nice way to put it. But it made Sloan wonder if this was the event that set her mom off. When Sloan remembered those days . . . Ridge’s disappearance, his funeral, and Daddy’s trial, she recalled her mom’s strength, her strange calmness. Something had stolen that strength. Sloan had always assumed it was a gradual change, but what if it wasn’t? What if this event was the tipping point?

“I was always worried about you after that, Sloan,” Leo told her. “But you were always with the Dawsons, so I figured you were in excellent hands.”

She had been in excellent hands with Noah and his family. Sloan wondered why she’d never told them about what happened at Leo’s. What other memories from those difficult days had Sloan blocked out?

Sloan turned on her laptop and googled Eddie Daughtry. A slew of newspaper articles appeared, but all with the same information.

Sloan needed to talk to Dylan Lawrence again and ask him more questions. But his number was unlisted, and she wasn’t up to going through Felicity right now.

Sloan stared again at Daughtry's mugshot. But this face was unfamiliar; it unearthed no repressed memories, just a burning sensation in her gut at the thought of what he’d done to Dylan, to Logan, possibly even to Ridge.

Sloan pushed the computer away and pulled out the copies Noah had given her from Ridge’s file.

A grainy photo of her brother on the first page took her breath away. This was the picture plastered all over town those first few days when Ridge was still considered a missing person. It wasn't the last picture they had of him, but a good close-up of his face—his missing front tooth, the scar above his left eyebrow, and the blond hair creeping past his ears. This was the image America saw, the only Ridge Hadfield they’d ever know. They’d all forgotten about that gap-tooth grin and shaggy hair, but Sloan never would. A few tears dripped onto the page as she pushed it aside and flipped through the court records.

First was a statement from Caroline detailing the morning of the disappearance. Sloan didn’t like remembering that day, but she owed it to Ridge to read everything, to analyze it until she found the truth.

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