Page 56 of Missing Justice
Her throat tightened again, and she swallowed the fear away, focusing on Matt’s hand, so gentle, so reassuring on her back. “Even if she’s not, I have to find her. I have to know what happened to her.”
They stood together for a long moment, then Matt took her hand and led her to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and helped her strip off her clothes. Under the warm water, she bawled like a baby, letting all the years of grief and guilt have their way with her while Matt soaped her up and washed her off.
After dressing her in one of his old T-shirts, he tucked her into his bed and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back a few minutes later, he handed her a cup of tea and crawled into bed next to her. They sat, side by side, Taylor sipping the tea and listening to the beat of her heart, normal once more. “I care for you. A lot,” she admitted. The room was dark. It was easier to say things in the dark. Isabel had taught her that. “I care for you more than anyone I’ve ever been with. Just so you know. And that for me is terrifying.”
Matt hugged her close. “I know.”
As her eyelids grew heavy, he took the cup from her hands and let her fall asleep in the solid protection of his arms.
* * *
The following morning, Matt dropped Taylor back at her place to grab her car and followed her to work making a request along the way. Yes, he’drequestedrather than told her to call him when she planned on leaving the office. Telling a woman like Special Agent Sinclair to do anything would only get him in a shit-ton of trouble. And he already had his hands full with her.
He headed out of DC and jumped on the 495, hauling ass toward his office. Nothing about this case was coming together. Sure they had bits of information, but none of those pieces fit together to form a picture.
His puzzle was far from complete. It happened sometimes. He simply needed to sit down—alone—in a quiet room and study what he had.
The morning sun was high in a blue sky, glaring off the vehicle in front of him. A silver truck. Of course. According to his research, twenty-three percent of pickup owners chose that color, making it the most popular color in America. With pickups making up eighteen percent of the total vehicles in North America, that was a whole lot of silver trucks to run down.
That little factoid hadn’t made him happy. Taylor either, considering her sister was snatched away in a silver pickup. Even back then, the color had been popular.
He left the expressway, making use of the shortcut he’d discovered and pulled into the lot behind the building. Both Charlie and Meg’s cars were in their normal spots. He’d have to sneak in. Maybe hide for a while to keep the distractions to a minimum.
That plan failed the second he opened the door and found both sisters standing in the hallway, steaming mugs of coffee in hand.
“Well, good morning,” Charlie said.
“Ladies.”
Charlie wore her typical skirt—she called it a pencil skirt—with a silk blouse while Meg opted for baggy, clay covered jeans and a T-Shirt that said, Kiss Me I’m Irish. Funny thing was, she wasn’t Irish.
Meg held up her mug. “Coffee is hot. Some new blend Charlie worked up. I think it’s a winner.”
In her downtime, Charlie liked to tinker with coffee blends. Matt supposed the coffee thing was Charlie’s version of his building cars. Whatever. As long as they all got through the day, it worked.
“Thanks.” The sisters made room for him to push by. “I’ll grab some in a bit. I’ll be in my office.”
As casual as he’d tried to sound, Charlie fell into step behind him. He didn’t have to look to know Meg wouldn’t be far behind.
He flipped the light on in his office and tossed his messenger bag on the desk.
“How’s your new girlfriend?” Charlie asked, a sly grin on her face.
In his mind, he sighed. Tenacity made the sisters good at their jobs. Unfortunately, that quality painted all aspects of their lives. Including keeping up on what their investigator did in his personal life.
He unloaded his bag, neatly lining his legal pad next to the three file folders he’d brought to the office with him. Everything else had been scanned and stored on his laptop, but the contents of the folders had been collected over the past few days and he hadn’t had a chance to catalog them yet.
“He’s not going to answer,” Meg said.
True ’dat. “Nope. But, if you need me, I’ll be here working on the Jarvis case.”
Charlie blew on her coffee and took a sip. “Good. Anything new?”
Dropping into the chair, he propped his feet on the desk. “Funny you should ask. How much do you know about this birthing center the Jarvises picked?”
“I know they’d planned on using it, but Walt said they weren’t completely committed. On her last doctor’s appointment, Felicity’s blood pressure had spiked.”
“I remember Walt saying something about that.”
