LITMIR.BIZ

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onto the counter.

      Jared took over and completed the task. “Could the caller have altered his or her voice?”

      “I guess. I don’t know. No, it had to have been a man.”

      “Because…?”

      “Because.”

      “Harold Bean, maybe?”

      One of the less appealing things about small towns was that everyone knew everyone else’s business, including who was or had been paired with whom. Michaele shook her head. “Jeez, no. He’s still nuts about her, sure, and as far as I know they’ve remained friends, but…no. Faith’s moved on.”

      “That’s not what I asked.”

      “Harold’s voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old’s when he’s the slightest bit emotional.”

      “You sound more like a protective parent than a worried sister.”

      “Damn it, Morgan, I’m not protecting him. I’m simply not going to say what I don’t believe, so back off!”

      Jared held her angry stare. “When did you receive the call?”

      “At midnight. I phoned you right afterward. Maybe I should have called the station or 9-1-1.”

      “You did the right thing.”

      Then why did he look as though she’d become his worst nightmare, as though he were about to excuse himself and charge for the bathroom?

      Before she could say as much, he stepped around her, turned off the flame under the pot and poured the boiling water. “Have you searched the house thoroughly? There’s no sign that she might have been here while you were at work? Maybe she packed a bag or something, planned to stay with friends for a few days?”

      “No, I didn’t notice anything when I was going around opening windows, and she didn’t say—”

      The pot clattered as he slammed it back onto the burner. “You had the windows open?”

      “Hello! This is Split Creek, not L.A. What’s more, two of the three people living here think we have round-the clock maid service. Maybe you can tolerate that kind of stench, but not me.”

      “Okay, okay. Go lock up. Then check the closets, under the beds…Do it,” he intoned when she didn’t budge. He started for the door. “And yell like hell if you find anything. I’m going outside to have a look around.”

      “For what?”

      The glance he cast her over his shoulder left her feeling like a slow five-year-old. As the screen door shut behind him, she muttered, “It’s my house, buster. I have a right to at least ask.”

      What did he think he was going to find out there, anyway? She’d told him Faith wasn’t here. And what did he think she’d run into upstairs?

      Somewhere above her a board creaked. It was the same sound Faith used to make when she tried to sneak out of the house for a date on a school night. Of course, this time, Michaele thought, it was the house cooling, a board expanding—

      Another creak sounded.

      “So I’ll placate him.” She might as well, she decided. Otherwise he would do it for her and know once and for all what slobs the Rameys were. The heavy flashlight she snatched up along the way was for her own peace of mind.

      Five minutes later they were both back in the kitchen.

      Jared reached for the still steaming mug of coffee. “I’ve radioed the station and told them to keep an eye out for Faith, and to check on Buck. You know we can’t initiate an official missing persons search for twenty-four hours, but I’ll set in motion what I can. If you could give me a recent photo of her, that would help.”

      For what? Everyone in the area knew what Faith looked like. She was one of those people who never met a stranger and talked to everyone.

      “We’ll need it if we have to broaden our search,” Jared said gently. “Also, come morning, if…well, you’ll have to come into the station to fill out some forms.”

      As he spoke he made less and less eye contact. That, more than anything, triggered a new dread in Michaele. “You don’t think she’s going to show up, do you.”

      “I’m merely explaining procedure.” He put down the mug. “Could you get me that photo?”

      The one she chose was from the top of the TV in the living room—a Glamour Shots creation, yet another indulgence the girl couldn’t afford. At the time it was taken, Michaele had been too angry to admit her sister looked gorgeous, more stunning than most of the empty-eyed skeletons in the countless fashion magazines the kid bought. It wasn’t just the filtered lens, the way Faith’s long black hair was brushed in uncharacteristic but sexy disarray, or the artful makeup that gave her eyes an almost Far Eastern tilt, her mouth a pouty just-kissed look. Faith simply had…something.

      Returning to the kitchen, Michaele handed the picture to Jared. “All I was trying to say before was that if you know something, I think I have a right to be told what it is.”

      Jared slipped the photo into his shirt pocket without looking at it. “I’ll be in touch.”

      That was it? “Fine!” she snapped, as he headed for the door. “Then hear this—as soon as I change, I’m going to start searching for her, too.”

      “The hell you will.”

      Before she could move he’d spun around and grabbed her upper arms, almost lifting her off her feet to bring her face-to-face with him. It wasn’t hard to do. He might not be the tallest guy in town, but he had to be one of the strongest, and if he wanted, he was capable of making a larger man feel like a Chihuahua confronting a rottweiler.

      “You stay put,” he growled. “And don’t think I won’t be checking in to make sure you’re here.”

      “I can’t sit and do nothing.”

      “Then pray.”

      Jared Long Morgan talking about prayer? Next to her, he had the worst church attendance record in town. “Now you’re frightening me.”

      “It’s about time.” But he frowned once he noticed his grip on her, and abruptly let her go. “Stay here. If she shows up, you’ll be able to let me know all the sooner.”

      He started to leave again.

      “Jared.” When he looked back, Michaele chewed on her lower lip. “You might as well know something. We fought before she went off to school this morning.”

      “So what else is new?”

      Despite his wry, even kind tone, she didn’t allow herself off the hook. “This time I threatened to shut her off financially if she didn’t start helping out more. She left crying and cussing.” Remembering the awful scene, Michaele felt her own throat ache. “What am I going to do if…?”

      Jared swore under his breath and this time drew her completely into his arms. “Don’t go there, honey.”

      Holding Jared was like trying to wrap her arms around the single, ancient oak in the middle of their pasture; but for once Michaele let herself need his size and strength. She almost believed that if she held him hard enough, if she shut her eyes tight enough, she could stop what felt like a free fall into the worst nightmare ever imagined.

      Jared’s breath teased the top of her head. “Ah, Mike. Everyone knows the burden you’ve been carrying for years, just as they know it’s a fact of life that siblings fight. There’s nothing to beat yourself up about. Now listen.” He eased her to arm’s length. “Lock up tight behind me. Don’t open up for anyone except me, Faith or Buck. If there are any more calls, let me know immediately.” He nodded to the card on the counter. “I’ve left you my cellular phone number.”

      She hadn’t noticed, and gave the card

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