Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(2)
“I just wanted you to know,” Bickam said. “When I hear back from my people out at SCI, I’ll fill you in. Either way, you need to watch your back. Gilbert’s scheduled to be released next week. His six-month sentence for probation violation is almost up, and he’s completed his community reintegration program. If we can link him to that call, I’ll take the info to the judge, but if not, he’ll be out on the streets soon.”
Alec rested his hands on his hips and fought back the rage that wanted to consume him. Regardless of what Bickam thought, Alec knew John Gilbert had killed his daughter. He was the only person who had motive, the one person in the world who wanted to see Alec suffer. It was Alec’s testimony as a teen that had sent Gilbert to prison for fourteen years. No matter how long he lived, Alec would never forget that day in the courtroom when Gilbert had been convicted, the way he’d stood at the defendant’s table, stared at Alec across the gallery with enraged eyes while he was cuffed, and screamed that he’d make Alec pay. And Alec had paid. He’d paid every day since that awful day in the park. Gilbert had been released from prison less than a month before Emma had gone missing. Alec knew Gilbert had been there, that he’d taken Emma in his sadistic need for revenge, just as Alec knew Gilbert had killed her as soon as he got her away. Alec had just never been able to prove it.
“Yeah, okay,” he said for the agent’s benefit, though inside he was already planning how he’d wring the information from the son of a bitch’s throat. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Bickam nodded and glanced over his shoulder toward the lobby. “Any sign of Devereaux?”
Alec’s stomach twisted, and with just the mention of Raegan he was transported right back to the reason he was standing in this empty hallway. “No. Not yet.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll be down the hall if either of you need me.”
Alec muttered, “Thanks,” as Bickam headed back the way he’d come. But as he sank into his chair once more and rubbed his throbbing forehead, the dread spiraled right back through his veins.
The automatic doors at the end of the hall pushed open long minutes later, followed by the click of heels on the tile floor. Lifting his head, Alec glanced to his right, and the minute he saw her, all the air drained from his lungs.
Raegan Devereaux rushed down the hall toward him, her curly auburn hair flying around her face, her tan trench coat flapping behind her. Pushing to his feet, Alec swallowed hard as she approached, remembering all the times he’d run his fingers through that silky hair, the countless hours he’d wrapped his arms around her slim waist and held her against him, and the nights he’d spent worshipping her perfect body like a peasant worships a goddess whose station is miles above his lowly class.
“Where is she?” Hope reflected deeply in Raegan’s meadow-green eyes, but her angelic features were drawn and tight, and her soft pink lips quivered with a fear he knew threatened to overwhelm her.
“It’s not her.” Alec caught her by the forearms before she could rush past. The scent of her jasmine perfume filled his senses, a hard punch to his gut filled with memories he couldn’t get sucked into. Not now. “Raegan. Stop. It’s not her.”
“How do you know?” Panic lifted her voice. “Agent Bickam said she fits the profile. He said—”
“It’s not her,” he said louder, ignoring the way her scent made him light-headed and how the warmth beneath the sleeves of her coat heated his chilled skin. “I saw her. It’s not our daughter.”
The hope in her pretty green eyes died like a flame being snuffed out. She searched his gaze as if willing him to say something more, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because hope was a dangerous thing. It was a mirage in the distance, flickering in the fading light and dragging a person forward like water draws a parched man. Only, when you got there, all you found was sand. Dry, grainy, throat-clogging sand that could kill you if you gave it the chance.
He stood motionless, unable to do anything to salvage her hope. Watched a familiar pain seep into her eyes and dampen her gaze. And he felt it filter deep into his bones, tugging at that heart he was sure no longer existed.
“I don’t believe you.” Just as quickly, another familiar emotion overtook her gentle features. One that hardened her jaw, darkened her eyes, and pulled her lush mouth into a tight line. She drew back from his grip. “You just don’t want it to be her.”
Alec’s arms fell at his sides, and something in his chest deflated like a balloon losing air. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than for the four-year-old girl in the other room to be their daughter, but she wasn’t. No girl who showed up in this hospital or any other ever would be because of John Gilbert.
He didn’t tell Raegan that—they’d already argued about it a million times. He didn’t try to stop her when she stepped around him. Didn’t warn her against what she was about to see. Knew it would make no difference. He’d come to terms long ago with the bitter truth that Emma was gone and never coming back. Raegan, on the other hand, still chose to cling to a hope that would only torment her for the rest of her life.
He turned to look after her. Watched as she pushed past the doctors still talking, and rushed toward Bickam standing outside a room at the end of the hall with a uniformed officer. Pain lanced his chest as she nodded and followed Bickam into the room. When he could no longer see her, he clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck.