“I was seeing you exclusively. You know that.” He only had exclusive sex.
She’d paused.
Two months prior they’d had “the talk.” The one that said she was important to him. As he was to her.
And what more was there? They’d established in the very beginning that neither was interested in marriage or family.
None of the women Cal dated were. That criteria was at the top of his list when considering whether or not he should ask a woman out. “I know you care about me, Cal. And I’ll always care about you,” Joy had finally said. Then she’d added, “And no, I’m not saying I don’t ever want to see you again. I just think we need to see other people, too. You know, to keep things from getting too…personal.”
They were done sleeping with each other. “I understand.”
“We’ve had some really good times.”
“Agreed.”
She’d offered him coffee to sober up so he could drive. He’d had several cups. The silence had gotten awkward.
Then he’d stood.
“Call me, okay?” she’d said, standing there in her banker’s conservative shirt and jacket, her arms wrapped around her middle.
He’d pulled the knot on his tie up. “I will. You do the same.”
“Of course.”
He’d left her house pretty certain that he and Joy would never speak again.
There was another message from her in Friday morning’s incoming email. She was sorry for how things had gone the night before. But she really thou
ght their decision was for the best. She hoped he understood that she wouldn’t be referring any more of her clients or associates to him for his fundraising efforts. And she wanted the earrings back that she’d left in his car the previous week.
Cal would have been a lot more bothered about Joy if he’d known that Sammie Lowen was with his mother, safe and sound.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE WAS LIVING a nightmare. She’d wake up any second.
Longing for the quilt on her bed, to be able to pull it up over her head and warm her freezing body, Morgan sat in the chair at the police station and waited for her parents to arrive.
She’d already answered all of the officers’ questions.
“Let’s go over things one more time, Ms. Lowen.” The female detective sitting across from her in the little room with only a table and four chairs emanated sympathy. About ten years older than Morgan, Elaine Martin didn’t look any more like a cop than she did. She wasn’t even in uniform.
“The smallest things can make a difference,” Detective Martin said. “Tell me again everything you can remember about this morning.”
“I got Sammie up at seven, just like always.”
“Did he get right up? Or did you have to nag him?”
Was the woman calling her a nag? Did she think Morgan wasn’t a good mom? That she’d somehow failed her son? Failed to see that someone was watching him? Out to get him? Or…
“Ms. Lowen? You okay?”
Morgan focused. Detective Martin’s brow creased with concern.
No, I’m not okay. How can I possibly be okay? My son is…where? What are they doing to him? God, was Sammie even still alive? Or…had he run away? Was he that unhappy with her? Was he in with a bad crowd and she’d somehow missed evidence of that fact? “Yeah. I’m fine.”
The detective covered Morgan’s hand with her own. “We’re going to find him,” she said. “Stay with me, okay?”