He braked as soon as he pulled into the gravel parking lot and wished he had his bike. He needed a good hundred-mile-an-hour venting session.
Zack pushed the automatic gearshift into park with his right hand and hit his left on the steering wheel. “What the fuck was that about?”
Olivia wouldn’t look at him, and that angered him more. She stared straight ahead, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, like a prim librarian. The only sign that she was even mildly disturbed was the slight tremor in her body, as if she were shaking and doing her utmost to stop.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Too calm. Too composed. “If you would like to file a report with my superior, I’ll-”
“Oh, fuck that!”
He wrenched the car door open and slammed it shut, walking as quickly as possible to the edge of the water.
He stared out at the lone fisherman sitting in a rowboat on the far side of the small lake. The sun was beginning its descent; he’d lost track of time.
He took deep breaths, staring at the still water, regaining his composure.
Something was up with Olivia St. Martin. Everything he’d seen since she arrived yesterday afternoon told him she was a professional through and through. She’d been upfront about the information she had and didn’t have. She shared more than he’d expected. He’d been so impressed with the way she handled the interviews with Laura Adams, Tanya Burgess, and Sean Miller. Everything until that tirade directed toward Mrs. Davidson.
He replayed the scene in his mind, thinking back to what had set her off. There was something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it when the little girl walked into the room? But-she hadn’t been there when Olivia was lecturing. Where had she gone?
“Do you know where your children are?”
“Of course I do. They’re upstairs.”
But the little girl wasn’t. Amanda Davidson had come downstairs. And something about her appearance had upset Olivia.
Zack was determined to find out what, but first he had to control his anger.
He took a deep breath and remembered the first time he’d lost his temper on the job. He’d been a rookie, not even six months out of the Academy, a beat cop. He and his partner, an old, wise, black cop named Kip Granger, were called out on a domestic violence case in the economically depressed Central District. The guy had been pummeling his wife into the ground with a dozen bystanders gawking.
Zack reacted on instinct and rushed the guy. The husband had a knife. Zack almost got himself killed.
He rubbed his arm where he still bore a scar from that night. He’d learned the hard way to not let his temper control his actions.
Zack sensed Olivia’s presence before he heard her footfall. His anger was only part of the complex emotions that were assaulting him. While he didn’t completely understand Olivia and what had happened at the Davidsons’, he had a strong suspicion something very specific had set her off.
What she told him was far worse than he imagined.
“I told you last night that my sister was murdered.”
Her voice was quiet, but it had lost the soothing quality from earlier, when she’d spoken to the girls. She now sounded defeated and scared.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t turn to face her for fear she’d not say another word, but his heart quickened as his temper cooled and his compassion warmed.
“I was five. Missy was nine. I was there when she was abducted. I couldn’t stop him. He just-picked her up. I-I ran home.”
Olivia’s voice cracked and now Zack did turn around to look at her. For the first time he saw raw pain in her eyes, as if an invisible shield had evaporated to reveal her soul. The unspoken pain angered and moved him in ways he could only grasp ethereally. Some unknown bastard had killed her sister and affected Olivia so deeply it still haunted her. Had this pain been buried for so long, only to be brought out by this investigation? Or were her feelings always simmering beneath the surface, unknown to anyone who looked at her because she was so good at keeping up that protective guard?
“My parents never got over it.”
He waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. Her silence didn’t fool him. There was more, Zack thought. So much more. He could tell by the quiver in her chin, her pale complexion, the tears in her eyes. Tears. He didn’t think she cried much. And they didn’t spill over, just formed a light sheen to brighten her gaze.
“And?” he prompted.
“They forgot about me.”
Her voice was so little, she sounded almost like a child herself.
“Olivia,” he whispered as he ran a hand through his hair. He took a step toward her, desperately wanting to take her into his arms, to protect her from her personal demons. But dammit! She’d crossed the line, and no amount of understanding or compassion could make him forget what had happened at the Davidsons’.
“I’m so sorry. But just because your parents couldn’t get beyond their grief doesn’t mean Michelle’s parents will neglect their children. You can’t treat the living victims that way.”
He saw a hint of understanding and guilt in her eyes.
“But who’s thinking about Amanda?” she said, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. Zack watched it reach Olivia’s chin, quiver, then drop. She didn’t notice, and no other tears followed.
“Did you see her?” she asked urgently. “Really look at her? She tried so hard to blend into the background, her mother didn’t even notice. Didn’t notice she was in the room when her mom said her ‘perfect angel’ was gone. How did that make Amanda feel? That she isn’t perfect? That it should have been her? That she was the one who should have died instead of her perfect sister?
“Not one time did she acknowledge Amanda. Not once. Not one time did she touch her, hug her, tell her she loved her.”
“You don’t know that-”
“You can tell by the way she talked!” Olivia’s jaw tightened, her growing anger burying the deep sadness. “The house reeked of anguish. Brenda Davidson can’t see beyond her pain to those who are left. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I overstepped my bounds, but if I can spare Amanda Davidson a lifetime of neglect and guilt, then I’m glad I said something! If only someone had told my parents-”
Olivia stopped suddenly, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “I didn’t-I-”
“What?” Zack wanted to know everything. He took a step closer, grabbed her by the arms, and shook her once. Voice low, he said, “Is that why you’re here? Because of your family? Your sister? Are you too close to this?”
He looked at her vivid eyes, her smooth complexion, her red mouth. There was so much here in this little package, so much depth and intelligence and need-she was a loner who needed someone. But dammit, he wouldn’t jeopardize the case because she was too emotionally involved.
“I promise. I’ll control myself. I don’t-I don’t know why-I never do things like that.”
He believed her. She didn’t do things like that because she suppressed her feelings. And it had taken six-year-old Amanda Davidson to bring it all to the surface. No, not all. There was more, and he was going to find out exactly what was going on.
She wasn’t telling him everything. He took a step closer, his hands on her shoulders. He tilted her face upward to look at him.
“Olivia,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “I believe you. But there’s more to this than you’re telling me. Right now, tell me the truth. Why-”
His cell phone rang. “We’re not done with this conversation,” he said as he flipped open his phone and took a step away from her. “Travis.”
“It’s Doug Cohn. I think I have something.”
“What?”
“It’s not much, but I talked to two lab directors who remembered the blonde girls. One in Austin, Texas, the other in Colorado. Both remembered the marks on the forearm. They e-mailed me photographs from the files. I think you need to see them.”