It was the most twisted case I’d ever worked on. And it still taunted my memory. Maybe because it was so dark. Maybe because the hope I’d seen in her eyes had nearly broken me, hope that I would save her. I hadn’t been sure I could.
But here she was, standing on my front porch—a walking miracle.
The search shouldn’t have gone on for as long as it did, but her parents had held sway. The kind of connections that only came with wealth and politics. But I’d been glad they’d kept our search and rescue team on the case because she’d still been out there. Alive. Many of the other women hadn’t been so lucky.
“I-I had no idea it was you,” she said.
I hated the tremble in her voice and how it spread to her hands.
“I didn’t either. The agency sent over the résumé of a Hallie Astor.”
She bobbed her head in a nod. “That’s what I go by now. It’s easier…”
Her words trailed off, but I knew what she meant. It was easier to keep people from making the connection. Easier to try to forget the past.
The press had been all over her back then. A twenty-year-old college student missing in the dead of winter after half a dozen others had already disappeared that year. The daughter of a federal judge, no less. When we’d found her alive, it’d been mayhem. And when the sick bastard who’d taken her remained at large, the media had gone feral in their search for him.
Hallie’s hands shook harder, making her whole body vibrate with the force of it.
Guilt swept in. Of course, this was hard for her. I was a reminder of the worst moments of her life. “We don’t have to do this. I’m sure you don’t want—”
Her eyes widened, that gray turning even more silver in the sunlight. “No.”
Her hand moved, seemingly without her permission, and landed on my forearm. She barely made contact, and it was through my damned flannel, but it burned.
Hallie’s eyes flared again as she jerked her hand back and stared at her fingers. “I’m sorry. I just meant…I’d like to still interview for the position. Unless you’re not comfortable with me—”
“No, I’m fine.” I wasn’t. Hell, my armstilltingled where she’d touched me. It was the shared past. Trauma bonding. That was all. I cleared my throat. “It’s just that I know a lot of victims would rather not have relationships with the people involved in their rescue. Especially when the cases are…”
“Messed up?” she offered.
A gentle smile pulled at my mouth. “Messed up is a good term for it. I just don’t want to make things worse for you.”
It was one of the reasons I’d never sought her out after the rescue. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had, though. I’d heard that her parents flew her back to their estate in the Chicago suburbs the moment she was well enough to leave the hospital.
Hallie quickly shook her head, sending those blond strands into her face. “You’re not making anything worse. I promise.”
I hated that the action hid her eyes from me. “Good. Come on in.”
Hallie tightly laced her fingers together as she followed me inside. I couldn’t help but watch her as she took in my home, her laser focus absorbing every detail.
She stopped her gaze on things I didn’t expect: a drawing Charlie had made in school, one of Drew’s lacrosse sticks leaning against the wall by the door, the blankets in a haphazard disarray on the couch.
Her eyes finally landed on a photo of the boys and me from a couple of years ago. “These are your sons? Charlie, Drew, and Luke?”
She already had one up on the drill sergeant from yesterday simply by using their names.
“Those are the hellions. They’re a lot bigger now.”
A smile played on Hallie’s lips, but she didn’t look away from the photo. “You can tell they love you.”
The photograph was from a family camping trip. Nash had snapped it after we’d had an epic water fight in the river. All four of us were soaking wet but wearing huge grins. It was before Luke had turned to his stony silence. Before Drew became consumed with sports and hisbabes. The only one who still smiled at me like that was Charlie.
“They love me some of the time,” I said honestly.
Hallie’s gaze flicked to me. “That’s being a parent, I think.”
I nodded. “True.”
