Page 73 of Coming Home

“He used that name when he contacted my former law firm in L.A.,” Jackson said.

His thoughts wandered to his defense of McGreer. What McGreer had done to his victim. A mix of anger and regret filled him, having gotten his client off so he could terrorize others again.

Including Ainsley.

“I’m going to go back to the station,” Dylan told him. “I’ll call you the minute we have any kind of break in the case. Do you want me to have someone take you home?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here in town.”

“Are you sure?” Dylan asked. “Willow is at home. I know she wants to comfort you in any way she can.”

“No one can comfort me,” Jackson spat out. “My wife is missing! For all we know, she could already be dead.” He wheeled, storming down the alley.

Immediately, he regretted his outburst. He knew Dylan and his deputies were doing everything they could to find Ainsley.

Returning to his friend, he said, “I’m sorry. I’m teetering on the edge.”

Dylan placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and squeezed. “I understand, buddy. If Willow were missing, I would be out of my mind.”

“I’m going to go sit in the gazebo,” Jackson said. “I need time to think. Maybe I know something about McGreer, and I don’t even know I know it yet. Something that might help us find Ainsley.”

He walked down the alley and turned, moving toward the center of the town’s square. Climbing the steps to the gazebo, he sat on the bench. Tears stung his eyes.

What would he do in a world without Ainsley?

No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to remain positive. Yes, Gerard McGreer had taken Ainsley, but Jackson knew there had to be more to it. More to play out. Somehow, his gut told him that McGreer would want Jackson involved.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket to read the text. His blood ran cold.

Don’t say anything to anyone. I see you are alone. Return to the alley behind the bakery.

As Jackson stood, the text dissolved, leaving no trace of it. That was confirmation enough of who sent it to him. McGreer had done the same to the juror he’d terrorized.

He returned the way he had come, his gait even, rounding the corner and heading down the alley again. As he did, another text came in.

Rear door is now unlocked. Come through and lock it. Apartment upstairs also open. Come in and join the fun.

His gut soured reading McGreer’s words, and once more, the words disappeared from his screen. Jackson reached Buttercup Bakery and entered, closing and locking the door. He wanted to quickly search for some kind of weapon but didn’t want to show up armed and endanger Ainsley any more than she already was.

He went to the door that led to her apartment and found it also unlocked. Mounting the stairs, he paused a moment at the top to collect himself. He had to outwit a killer. Both Ainsley’s life and his were on the line. He would not let her down. He would not let her die. If it came down to it, he would sacrifice himself if it would mean she could live.

Jackson turned the knob and pushed open the door. Immediately, he caught sight of Ainsley, who sat in one of the two chairs in front of her desk, her wrists bound together.

Gerard McGreer stood behind her, his gaze locking on Jackson’s. One hand fondled her breast in an obvious attempt to rile Jackson. His other held a gun to her right temple. Ainsley didn’t seem aware of either. Her eyes were glazed. Her jaw slack. It was obvious McGreer had given her some kind of drug.

He took a few steps forward and called her name. She didn’t even look in his direction.

“Stop,” McGreer commanded.

“What did you give her?” he demanded, coming to a halt.

McGreer shrugged, giving Jackson the easy, practiced smile Gus had mentioned, showing off the new set of teeth. “Rohypnol. Ainsley doesn’t even realize you’re here. She won’t remember some of the things I do to her as you watch. But once it wears off? She’ll feel plenty.”

“Don’t touch her,” he warned, his voice low and deadly. “She hasn’t done anything to you. I’m the one you want. Isn’t that right?”

His former client shrugged. “You’re merely a bonus, Jackson.” McGreer’s smile turned pure evil. “Did I scare the big, bad attorney from practicing law in California? Did that sweet little pregnant juror tell you I threatened her?” McGreer paused, his smile pure evil. “Do you have any idea what I’m capable of?”

Jackson braced himself. “I know exactly what you can do. I saw your handiwork in the photographs the DA entered into evidence. I’m only sorry I got you off.”

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