But that had been before Darcy went missing.
She considered the possibility of canceling, but what would that accomplish other than having made a permanent enemy of Annabeth Rivers, local news darling and television personality? And there weren’t any active leads they were following up on now. Just waiting and hoping for a call with some bit of information.
Then there was the other possibility. Maybe she could use this to her advantage.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She jumped up, pushing Travis out of his seat. “We have to go. I completely forgot.”
“What?” he asked and dropped cash on the table for their meal.
She grabbed the files and tucked them under her arm. “I’m supposed to be speaking on live television on Lunch Café in forty minutes. It was nice meeting you, Meems.”
The woman just crooked her brow up and nodded. “Later.”
…
Travis drove toward downtown, keeping his eye equally on the road and the woman next to him, who was frantically digging through her purse for a lipstick and mascara, cursing under her breath.
“So what’s this thing you’re doing?” he asked, a little confused by her excitement over this interview. She’d looked like she was going to be sick moments before, and he couldn’t blame her. If her daughter had been taken as part of a human trafficking ring, she could be anywhere, having anything done to her. Now it was as if she’d pushed it out of her mind and was getting ready for a dance or something.
Maybe it was her way of dealing. Hell, he didn’t know. She was an enigma to him.
“Aha.” She pulled a lipstick out and pulled down the passenger seat visor. She leaned forward, applying the deep red shade. “Don’t. Hit. A. Pothole. Damn,” she said, apparently not satisfied with her progress, and dug in her purse again until she found a Kleenex. “Back when we were coming up with ways to draw attendance to the school’s gala, I contacted Annabeth to see if she could give me any airtime. I promised her practically my right kidney to get the spot. It was worth it, though. Lunch Café is number one in its time slot, and the Friday feature spot on upcoming weekend events is prime.”
“Annabeth…wasn’t she one of your henchmen in high school?” Red hair and ivory skin, she’d been on the debate team and captain of the lacrosse team. Popular on her own laurels, she hadn’t needed to kowtow to Meredith’s orders when she pulled some of that awful shit.
No. She’d just genuinely liked doing it.
“Very funny. You’d think she could just offer up the spot, seeing how she’s an alumna, too. But not her. Everything has a price.” She dabbed at her lips, then pressed a kiss into the Kleenex. Satisfied, she threw everything back in the purse and shut the visor, looking back outside.
“So. Meems,” she said, finally. “Interesting woman. How did you say you knew her?”
“I didn’t. But if you’re asking, we met a couple of years ago.”
“I thought you were doing some undercover operation in Afghanistan two years ago?”
He glanced at her. “I hadn’t realized you were paying attention.” She didn’t respond, just waited for his answer. “Yeah, we met during the op. She was an analyst then. Once our mission was over, like me, she needed something different. I might have once mentioned the incredible views of my hometown a few times, and since she’s a skier, she decided to check it out.”
Now she was turning skeptical eyes on him. “Of all the places in the world with renowned ski resorts, she chose to come here. Your hometown.” She folded her arms in front of her chest and shook her head. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Not like I couldn’t tell from the looks you were giving each other you two had something together.”
He didn’t answer. Not immediately. “Is that really what you want to talk about? Because you just learned some pretty scary things, but instead of dealing with it, you’re harassing me about my dating life?”
“I just want to know if your focus is wher
e it should be. You’re making googly eyes at the blonde when—when—”
He met her eyes, raising his brows, waiting for the insults to continue. Only her eyes widened as she recognized the truth of what he’d said. Almost immediately the brown depths pooled with tears.
Meredith Sanders was crying. He hadn’t seen her cry since that day—when she’d decimated him.
He willed himself to harden up, to not be taken in again by the act. “You done yet?”
She brought her hand up to her mouth and nodded, then looked away, taking in deep breaths.
“You’re right, of course,” she said, her voice almost returned to normal. “It’s just this not knowing. Not knowing if she’s dead, left somewhere to find, and then you talk about the possibility that she could be taken, drugged or beaten, forced to comply in some sex trade. And I’m not sure what’s worse.”
She choked back another sob. Another breath.