Made To Be Broken Part 3

"Did she say she wanted to leave?"

"No more than usual. She mentions it, but it's the same old 'G.o.d, I hate this town' s.h.i.t that we all say."

"Had she said it more often recently?"

She shook her head. "Since she's been working for you, she hasn't said it as much. She has a plan now. Her mom makes her pay rent, but almost all the rest goes in the bank and she figures by the time Destiny's ready for school, she'll have enough to move to Oshawa or Kingston."

She circled a fry through her ketchup, then set it down and looked at me. "She's grateful, for the job and all. I'm sure she's never said so, but she is. It's just really hard on her. She wants to work, but she doesn't want to leave Destiny with a sitter. Sammi... she pretty much raised herself and I tell her it's not the same thing if she finds a good sitter, but to her it still feels like abandoning Destiny."

"Maybe she saw your point and decided the problem was that she couldn't find good child care here. here. In the city, that wouldn't be as much of a problem." In the city, that wouldn't be as much of a problem."

"I just... I don't think she left."

"Did she give you anything recently? An unexpected gift? Something she owned? Maybe seem more sentimental than usual?"

Tess paused to think, then shook her head.

"Did she start taking an interest in other places? Buying the city papers, looking for an apartment or a job?"

"No, she hates reading. She " Tess lowered her voice. "She's not very good at it."

"Okay, so "

"Wait. There was something. Not a job, really, but something she didn't want anyone else to know."

I leaned onto my elbows. "What?"

Tess glanced around, but no one was within ten feet of our booth. "There was this guy, a tourist, a few weeks ago when we had that warm spell. He saw Sammi and Destiny at the park. He worked for some modeling agency in Toronto. He told Sammi "

" she could be a model," I finished.

"No, not Sammi. Destiny. His agency works with babies. He took a bunch of pictures of her, then wrote down Sammi's number and said he'd call in a few days. Only he never did. She was real broken up about it. She'd hoped it might be a way to make extra money and get out of here even sooner."

"Maybe she went to Toronto looking for him."

"If she did, she would have taken her mom's truck. But that's not like Sammi, anyway. She doesn't go begging." She twisted her napkin. "I think someone took her."

"Took her?"

"You know. A serial killer. A rapist. I told her she shouldn't go walking the back roads at night, but she always laughed, you know. Said no one would grab a girl with a baby."

My gut went cold. "When did Sammi do this?"

"Every night, around dusk. Said it was good for Destiny. The fresh air helped her sleep."

"But we don't know that Sammi went out Sunday night."

Tess shot up straight, eyes gleaming fierce. "Yes, we do. That's what I told Don. Kira's mom saw Sammi walk past their place around eight. She went for her walk and she never came back. That's what I've been trying to tell everyone."

After lunch, I dropped Tess off at her car and told her I'd keep in touch. Then I drove the route she'd said Sammi usually took on her evening walk, and found nothing.

Next stop: talk to the person who'd last seen Sammi.

Meredith Desmond was Kira's mother. They lived in a tidy bungalow outside town. Meredith and I got on fine. I'd decorated the lodge with her watercolors and made a point of sending guests to her home-based studio.

According to Meredith, Sammi had walked past around eight, roughly the same time she had every night this month. Meredith and her husband had been on the front swing, reading and enjoying the sunset. When Sammi walked past, Meredith called out a greeting, as usual. Sammi waved back, as usual. Then she kept going.

Unlike the other adults I'd spoken to so far, Meredith was concerned. Sammi was a good kid, she said. p.i.s.sed off at the world, but who'd blame her?

As for Tess's theory, that Sammi had been picked up by a s.e.xual predator, Meredith conceded anything was possible. But we hadn't had such a killer around here since... well, since never. In this region, stranger rape wasn't unheard of. Murder Murder by a stranger, though, was so rare that neither of us could recall the last one. by a stranger, though, was so rare that neither of us could recall the last one.

Most likely, Meredith thought, Sammi had used her nightly routine as a launch pad for a planned disappearance. She'd taken Destiny on her usual walk, planning either to meet a ride or to swipe a summer car left at one of the big cottages over by the nearby Potter place. Maybe she'd hoped to stir up a little trouble with her sudden disappearance, make people sit up and take notice. Maybe even, for the first time in her life, she'd make her mother worry about her. If that was the case, I hoped she never learned the truth that except for her friends, n.o.body seemed to care.

Still, something about that scenario rankled. If Sammi had trusted Tess with the secret about the photographer, wouldn't she have at least hinted that she was leaving?

I didn't like the "modeling photographer" idea, either. As a cop, I'd seen that routine too often. Pervert approaches teenage girl and asks her to "model" for him. So why target Destiny instead? Because anyone who'd spent five minutes with Sammi knew her world revolved around her baby. She was streetwise enough to see through any guy who offered to make her her a star. But Destiny? That would be hard to resist. Maybe the guy had called and asked Sammi to meet him that night. a star. But Destiny? That would be hard to resist. Maybe the guy had called and asked Sammi to meet him that night.

I wanted to walk Sammi's route, but only made it as far as parking on the roadside, where I sat staring out the windshield.

Before Tess left, she'd cursed herself for not being more forceful with Sammi and insisting she stop her nighttime rambles. I'd rea.s.sured her that there'd been nothing she could do except give her advice. It had been up to Sammi to take it. But now, sitting here, Tess's words came back. "I should have done something. It was my job, you know? That's the way we were, Sammi and me. She was the fun one, always getting into trouble. I followed along, and made sure that didn't get out of hand. I kept her safe."

I kept her safe.

It was my job.

How many times had I thought that about my cousin Amy? A year older than me, Amy had been my best friend from the time I was born, to hear our parents tell it. She was the one who knew how to have fun, and I was the one who kept it from getting out of hand.

I'd been thirteen the summer she'd decided we were old enough to take the train to the CNE, back in the days when it made a special stop at the big Toronto fair. My father thought we were too young. My uncle had laughed and slapped him between the shoulders.

"Nadia will keep them out of trouble. She always does."

Dad had resisted, but I'd begged, and everyone told him he was being silly, my mother finally snapping in annoyance.

"Stop coddling the girl, Bill. How do you expect her to grow up when you're always hovering over her? Are you going to drive her on dates, too?"

"Nah, he'll order one of the new recruits to do it. In full uniform, with a squad car." Uncle Eddie slapped my dad again. "Come on, Bill, let the girls have their fun."

So we went. And we had fun. Innocent fun. Amy flirted with the carnies too much, but I managed to drag her attention elsewhere before they could ask for her phone number. I was interested in boys, too, but with me, the operative word was boy. boy. Amy's tastes ran dangerously close to Amy's tastes ran dangerously close to men, men, though none of her boyfriends yet had been more than a high school senior. though none of her boyfriends yet had been more than a high school senior.

Afterward, when we got to the train station, Amy's father wasn't there yet. My dad had wanted to pick us up, but he'd been called last night to switch shifts.

Still riding high from the day of freedom, Amy wanted to start walking. It was dark, but the road was lit, so I said okay. We'd gone about a kilometer when Drew Aldrich pulled over in his pickup, and asked if we needed a ride.

Aldrich lived down the road from Amy. He was twenty-four, with dark hair, a leather jacket, and bushy brows over eyes that always seemed to be laughing at you. Amy swore he was the spitting image of Matt Dillon in The Outsiders, The Outsiders, and swooned every time he stopped to talk to her... which he did often enough to make me nervous. I'd wanted to tell my dad. She'd blown up when I suggested it one of the few real fights we'd ever had. After a week of not talking, I'd promised to mind my own business when it came to Drew Aldrich. and swooned every time he stopped to talk to her... which he did often enough to make me nervous. I'd wanted to tell my dad. She'd blown up when I suggested it one of the few real fights we'd ever had. After a week of not talking, I'd promised to mind my own business when it came to Drew Aldrich.

But he made me nervous. So when he offered us a ride that night, my answer was no. Amy cajoled. Amy pleaded. I stood my ground, anxiously scanning the road, praying to see Uncle Eddie's big white car. It was only when Amy threatened to go alone that I got into the truck.

I had to keep her safe.

It was my job.

I spent the next few hours walking Sammi's route. Like most roads up here, this one was heavily wooded on both sides, with endless twists and hills and valleys. Stand at any point and you couldn't see more than a hundred feet in either direction.

Every few steps, I'd look around and ask myself "If I found a mark here, could I make a safe hit?" In every case, the answer was yes. The few times that I heard a car coming, it took at least three minutes for it to come into view, more than enough time to pull a body and a stroller into the ditch and hide.

Yet if someone had attacked Sammi, I was sure it would have been a s.e.xual predator. That meant he wouldn't have a corpse to dispose of. He'd have a live teenager and baby to deal with. Sammi would put up a fight and it would take more than three minutes to get her into the woods.

There were no signs of struggle in the gravel, no broken bushes to suggest that anyone had been dragged into the forest.

The more I thought about it, the more I suspected that Meredith, and everyone else, was right. Sammi had run off. There was only one thing I needed to do to set my mind at rest. Break into Janie's place and search for proof that Sammi had packed and left.

Chapter Six.

I returned to the lodge ten minutes late for a scheduled shooting lesson. That wouldn't do. While the disappearance of a teen and a baby might seem more important than explaining basic gun safety to four guys who just wanted to shoot something, I made my living by my reputation, and my reputation was that of a conscientious hostess who put her guests first.

After the lesson and some target practice, I sent the men in to dinner while I stayed behind, ostensibly to lock up. In my experience, putting guns in the hands of new-bies has a strange effect on hormones. I'd warded off more wandering hands postshooting than after the most beer-drenched bonfires.

I took the shortcut back to the lodge, avoiding the men, and slipped in the kitchen door. The wail of an electric carving knife greeted me. Emma looked up from her chicken and motioned to the message pad by the phone. On the top sheet was a note that my aunt Evie had called.

Aunt Evie?

It had to be Evelyn. She'd never contacted me here before because Jack forbade it. The only excuse she'd have was if Jack wasn't around to pa.s.s along a message.

I told Emma to start serving dinner without me, then I hurried upstairs.

"It's about Jack," Evelyn said, skipping any pleasantries. As I lowered myself to the edge of the bed, she b.i.t.c.hed about his rule against calling me. I could picture her, in her designer shirt and slacks, white hair cut in a sleek bob, cussing like a sailor as she chewed out her favorite student. Evelyn was probably closing in on seventy, if not past it, and was supposed to be retired, but she still lived and breathed the business, pulling strings, manipulating players, delighting in watching them dance.

"Is he okay?" I asked finally, cutting her rant short.

"He's an idiot, that's what he is. Acts like he's still twenty, like he can still do the things he did at twenty, then gets himself hurt "

"Hurt?" My fingers clenched the plastic tighter. I should have called. G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I should have called when that first month pa.s.sed without any word "He broke his ankle."

"Ankle?" I said. "Is that... it?"

"Other than cuts and bruises, and wounded pride, which, let me tell you, is stinging worst of all. Serves him right. The f.u.c.king stubborn Mick. I told him "

"When did it happen?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

Only a couple of weeks? So much for "that explains everything."

"I'm sorry to hear it," I said. "I hope he's on the mend and I appreciate you telling me "

"I'm not calling so you can send him a get-well card, Nadia."

I tensed at the use of my real name. With Evelyn, it was always a dig reminding me how much she knew. But I suppose I wouldn't want her calling me "Dee" on my personal line, either.

"He's holed up in Buffalo," Evelyn continued.

"Holed up?"

"There was a problem. Nothing critical, but with his ankle, he's not in any condition to jaunt off to Europe until things cool down. He needs a place to stay, and someone to watch his back such as a friend who lives in a backwoods cabin in the middle of nowhere."

"He wants to come here?"

Silence, so long I thought we'd lost the connection.

"You know Jack, Nadia. He never wants anything. Never admits to it, anyway. G.o.dd.a.m.ned "

"So this is your idea."

"Only because he's too stubborn to ask. G.o.d forbid he should ask for help. Gotta be fair and square, all debts paid up. Thirty years I've known him, and you saw the s.h.i.t he pulled last fall, when he wanted my help. Dangled the f.u.c.king case in front of my nose until I jumped, then hemmed and hawed about letting me join, when the whole G.o.dd.a.m.ned reason he came to my house "

"He doesn't even know you're asking me, does he?"

More silence as she tried to figure out another way to bl.u.s.ter and divert. After a moment, she sighed. "This is how you have to deal with Jack, Nadia. You go to him, make the offer, listen to him mutter about how he doesn't need help, doesn't want to inconvenience inconvenience you, but the minute you turn to walk away, he'll be on your tail, following you home. Just so long as it's your idea." you, but the minute you turn to walk away, he'll be on your tail, following you home. Just so long as it's your idea."

"I don't think he's going to follow me anywhere."

She snorted. "How much you betting, girl? Name your wager, because surer odds I've never "

"I haven't heard from him in four months."

"What?" The word came sharp with genuine surprise. "Did you two have another fight? I told you the last time, you you have to go to have to go to him. him. You know what it's like getting him to talk, one f.u.c.king word at a time, dragged out like teeth, but " You know what it's like getting him to talk, one f.u.c.king word at a time, dragged out like teeth, but "

"There wasn't a fight. He called in January, we chatted, and that was the last I heard from him."

"So call him! The man has zero people skills, Nadia, in case that somehow escaped your notice. He once went six months without contacting me and when I lit into him for nearly giving me a heart attack, he acted like "

"He didn't just forget to call. I could feel the cold front moving in for months. He doesn't want to see me, and I'm not driving to Buffalo so he can give me the brush-off in person."

"You owe him."

"I repaid him last fall. Now, apparently, we're square. He made sure of that before he "

"For G.o.d's sake, stop sulking, Nadia. Jack's hurt your feelings "

"I'm not hurt; I'm p.i.s.sed off."

"Then tell him to his face. It's the Blue Sky motel, room 18, off the "