second Alex swore he saw an odd expression on her face. He wondered if she had looked into his eyes and seen what he had tried to bury years ago—the picture of a child full of hope and love—and when love had let him down, how the man he’d become protected himself from sharing that emotion with anyone again. The Madaris brothers always claimed their grandmother had a sixth sense. Now he was beginning to believe them.
“So . . .” she said softly. “What will it be?”
Alex’s protective impulses kicked in. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Like I said, I care for Christy. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone.”
Ms. Laverne nodded slowly. “Then I suggest you start doing a lot of soul searching because without love, you can kiss Christy good-bye. For too many years you were her knight in shining armor, the man she dreamed of marrying. When you messed up, you messed up pretty bad. It’s going to take a lot to get back in her good graces, so you will have your work cut out for you. A man who merely wants her will eventually give up and walk away. But a man who loves her, truly loves her, will hang in there no matter what, because Lord knows the child can be difficult.”
When Alex didn’t say anything but gazed thoughtfully at her for the longest time, Laverne Madaris smiled, laid a hand on his forearm, and said, “There. I’ve done what I felt I must. Now the rest, Alexander, is up to you.”
Horace Mansfield, head of Cincinnati’s office of the FBI, stared at the woman sitting across from his desk. In his mind she was the typical reporter, who was always digging for a bone. But in this particular case, he was determined the bone she was digging for would remain well buried.
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Miss Madaris, but I can’t help you.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
He sighed deeply. She was getting agitated and being difficult. “There are rules I have to follow. The Bonita Patterson case is officially closed.”
Christy glared at him. She hadn’t liked the evasive answers she’d been getting since she had arrived. “All I want to know is whether or not at some point the Bureau checked out Morganna Patterson’s story and noticed a link between her dreams and reported teens’ kidnappings.”
The man met her stare without blinking. “That would be classified information I couldn’t share with you even if we had. I can only assure you that we routinely followed our customary procedures and will initiate a full-scale investigation when we feel one is warranted.”
Christy sighed deeply. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this man. She stood. “Good day, Mr. Mansfield. I apologize for taking up so much of your time.” She walked out of the man’s office.
Horace Mansfield watched Christy leave. As soon as he was certain she was gone, he picked up the phone on his desk. When the person on the other end answered, Mansfield said tersely, “We might have trouble brewing.”
Alex slid his fork through the flaky crust of the apple pie and immediately thought about Christy. When she was little she’d loved apples as much as she had loved peanut butter.
He pushed the dessert aside, suddenly not feeling hungry. The conversation he’d had with Laverne Madaris earlier that day was still on his mind.
He stood and walked over to his kitchen window and looked out. Everything the older woman had said led him to thoughts of one person.
Christy.
He inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling the need to hear her voice. He quickly crossed the room to pick up the phone and punched in her number.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice said.
Damn. He’d forgotten how late it was. “Christy, this is Alex.”
Christy came fully awake. “Alex?”
“Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to call so late and wake you. How are you doing?”
She frowned. “Did my brothers ask you to—”
“Hey, don’t get uptight and go there, OK? I’m calling because I had you on my mind. I’ve
“So . . .” she said softly. “What will it be?”
Alex’s protective impulses kicked in. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Like I said, I care for Christy. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone.”
Ms. Laverne nodded slowly. “Then I suggest you start doing a lot of soul searching because without love, you can kiss Christy good-bye. For too many years you were her knight in shining armor, the man she dreamed of marrying. When you messed up, you messed up pretty bad. It’s going to take a lot to get back in her good graces, so you will have your work cut out for you. A man who merely wants her will eventually give up and walk away. But a man who loves her, truly loves her, will hang in there no matter what, because Lord knows the child can be difficult.”
When Alex didn’t say anything but gazed thoughtfully at her for the longest time, Laverne Madaris smiled, laid a hand on his forearm, and said, “There. I’ve done what I felt I must. Now the rest, Alexander, is up to you.”
Horace Mansfield, head of Cincinnati’s office of the FBI, stared at the woman sitting across from his desk. In his mind she was the typical reporter, who was always digging for a bone. But in this particular case, he was determined the bone she was digging for would remain well buried.
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Miss Madaris, but I can’t help you.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
He sighed deeply. She was getting agitated and being difficult. “There are rules I have to follow. The Bonita Patterson case is officially closed.”
Christy glared at him. She hadn’t liked the evasive answers she’d been getting since she had arrived. “All I want to know is whether or not at some point the Bureau checked out Morganna Patterson’s story and noticed a link between her dreams and reported teens’ kidnappings.”
The man met her stare without blinking. “That would be classified information I couldn’t share with you even if we had. I can only assure you that we routinely followed our customary procedures and will initiate a full-scale investigation when we feel one is warranted.”
Christy sighed deeply. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this man. She stood. “Good day, Mr. Mansfield. I apologize for taking up so much of your time.” She walked out of the man’s office.
Horace Mansfield watched Christy leave. As soon as he was certain she was gone, he picked up the phone on his desk. When the person on the other end answered, Mansfield said tersely, “We might have trouble brewing.”
Alex slid his fork through the flaky crust of the apple pie and immediately thought about Christy. When she was little she’d loved apples as much as she had loved peanut butter.
He pushed the dessert aside, suddenly not feeling hungry. The conversation he’d had with Laverne Madaris earlier that day was still on his mind.
He stood and walked over to his kitchen window and looked out. Everything the older woman had said led him to thoughts of one person.
Christy.
He inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling the need to hear her voice. He quickly crossed the room to pick up the phone and punched in her number.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice said.
Damn. He’d forgotten how late it was. “Christy, this is Alex.”
Christy came fully awake. “Alex?”
“Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to call so late and wake you. How are you doing?”
She frowned. “Did my brothers ask you to—”
“Hey, don’t get uptight and go there, OK? I’m calling because I had you on my mind. I’ve
Similar Books
