MIA: Missing in Atlanta
Debby Giusti

This book is dedicated to:

Captain Joseph Giusti

Colonel Anthony Giusti

Colonel Glen Willoughby

My son, my husband, my father—my heroes!

The soldiers of the 101st Airborne Division

(Air Assault)

And all the brave men and women

in uniform who defend our nation.

God bless you for your service to our country.

Liz, Mary Katie, Eric and Anna

For your love and support.

Darlene Buchholz, Annie Oortman,

Dianna Snell, Sharon Yanish and Connie Gillam

Thank you!

My editor Jessica Alvarez

And my agent Deidre Knight

For your guidance and wise counsel.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

ONE

Not what he expected.

Captain Jude Walker fingered the scrap of paper and, once again, glanced at the address Nicole had sent him—114 Rosemont Avenue.

It’d been seven days since the 101st Airborne had redeployed home from the Middle East, and this was his first opportunity to leave Fort Campbell. The last mandatory reintegration briefing had ended at noon. He’d signed out on two-weeks’ leave, climbed into his pickup and headed to Atlanta. Four hours later here he sat on Rosemont.

Tension tightened his shoulders, and a wave of anxiety rolled through his gut. He felt as if he was in a combat zone instead of this residential city street. It was probably the worry that had eaten at him for a month or so.

Why had Nicole stopped answering his e-mails? A glitch with her Internet provider, or so she’d claimed over the phone. The last time they’d talked, she assured him her system would be back online within a day or two.

He would have believed her except for the apprehension he’d heard in her voice.

“What’s wrong, Nicole?”

“Nothing, baby. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Three days later, a lone message appeared in his inbox, compounding his unease. “Don’t try to find me.”

Then her phone had been disconnected….

Almost five weeks and nary a word.

His military training had taught him to plan for the worst-case scenario. He’d called every hospital in the Atlanta area, just in case. The long-distance charge had been worth his peace of mind. No one named Nicole Valentine had been admitted to a medical facility in the metro area.

The police had been less than forthcoming, except to assure Jude a missing persons report had not been submitted in her name.

Foolish as it seemed, Jude had talked himself into believing she’d be waiting for him when his plane touched down at Fort Campbell. A crowd of exuberant well-wishers swarmed the tarmac, waving American flags and screaming with joy as he and his men deplaned. He searched the crowd but never found Nicole.

Standing alone when every other man had someone to wrap his arms around had been worse than marching into battle. The sense of emptiness haunted him still.

Jude let out a breath of frustration. Had he read too much into their chance meeting in Atlanta? Without a family to go home to and knowing he’d be assigned to Atlanta’s Fort McPherson shortly after his thirteen-months’ deployment was over, Jude had chosen the city as a good spot to visit over R&R in the middle of his stint. Meeting Nicole had been a plus he’d never expected.

The two weeks passed quickly as they got to know each other. Nicole seemed enthusiastic about their relationship until he happened to mention the possibility of a future together.

“Gotta live in the moment,” she quipped when the subject came up. “Besides, you don’t know me. You don’t know who I really am.”

“I know enough,” he assured her. But the truth was, he didn’t know anything about Nicole except she’d been staying at the same hotel. Unusual, yes, since she lived in Atlanta. A minivacation without leaving town, she claimed.

At that point he’d been too taken in by her warm smile and twinkling eyes to question anything.

But now, after being deployed for thirteen months, the last thing he needed was rejection. Surely everything would work out once they were together again.

And what about her e-mail that warned him not to try to find her? Merely anxiety on her part about reconnecting after six months? At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

Bracing for whatever would unfold, Jude grabbed his beret and stepped onto the pavement, wishing he’d taken time to change into civilian clothes. Hopefully, she’d be glad to see him, no matter what he was wearing.

Slamming the truck door, he glanced down Rosemont. An older neighborhood. At one time, probably prime real estate, now slightly in need of repair.

One-fourteen sat back from the road. A three-story rambling brick complete with a sprawling porch, two white wicker rockers and a pot of yellow pansies that waved a greeting as he neared. He imagined Nicole sitting in the rocker, awaiting his return.

Jude had faced combat, had known the caustic taste of bile that churned in his gut when danger needed to be faced. Not that he gave the fear control, but it was a presence, a shadow that hovered over any battlefield. Today he felt that same shadow float over him as the late-February sun slipped momentarily behind a dark and angry cloud.

An omen? Something Jude didn’t believe in. A man controlled his destiny by the way he lived his life.

Still, he wasn’t sure what he’d find on the other side of the door. The Nicole he’d met on R&R? Or a woman who had turned her back on the memory of their two weeks together?

Pulling in a calming breath, Jude walked toward the house. It’d been six months since they’d been together. Seemed like an eternity.

Sarah Montgomery cradled the phone on her shoulder, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. No reason for the head of the Caring Heart Foundation to know she was angry.

“Sir, I wasn’t meddling. As acting director of Hope House, I was merely reviewing the records. When the figures didn’t add up, I decided to dig a little deeper.”

“You should have alerted me immediately, Sarah.” Winton Cunningham’s voice was stern.

“That’s exactly what I am doing. Cynthia is due back at the end of the month. I wanted to ensure there were no problems before she returns.”

Winton sighed. “Look, Sarah, the board appreciates the job you’ve done filling in as temporary director these past six months, but there’s no reason to delve into money issues. We have credible people at the foundation who handle the finances. They do an outstanding job, and I trust their integrity.”

“I wasn’t implying—”

“Of course you weren’t. But you must realize the stress everyone is under. Contributions are down, and the foundation’s trying to hold Hope House together.”

“Aren’t you overexaggerating the situation?”

“Unfortunately, no. If a couple of our major contributors get wind of mismanaged funds, even if the story is unfounded—” Winton sniffed “—the consequences would be devastating. I’d hate to see Hope House close its doors because of a simple accounting error. So, you tend to the kids and let the foundation handle the money. Understand?”

Sarah’s cheeks burned from the chastisement. “Of course.”

“No need to mention this to the other board members tomorrow night at the Charity Ball. I don’t want to spoil their evening. Plus, the last thing we need is bad PR. You know how the press loves to stick its nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I hadn’t planned to talk to anyone else about the situation, sir.”

“Excellent. After dinner I’ll invite you to the stage for the presentation. Accept the donation, then say a few words to the contributors.”

“I understand.”

“What about the application for the orphanage referral position? Have you submitted your paperwork?”

“It’s in the mail.” Sarah hesitated. “If the donations are down, won’t that affect the project in South America?”

“Not at all. My wife, Elena, still has family in Colombia where she was raised. They’re funding the project and insist their contributions remain separate from Hope House’s resources. No matter what happens in Atlanta, they want the orphanage referral agency established so more South American children can be adopted by American families. Bottom line, the program will remain on schedule.”

The stability of the Colombian project didn’t make Sarah feel any better. As acting director of Hope House, her first priority was the kids in Atlanta.

She hung up the phone and sighed. If she hadn’t noticed the discrepancy—

Well, she had noticed and look where it had gotten her. On the losing end of a verbal squabble with Mr. Cunningham.

The sound of a car door slamming pulled her from her thoughts. Shoving the curtain aside, she peered through her office window at the man in uniform walking purposefully toward the house.

Not the usual visitor by a long shot, with his black army beret angled over his forehead, squared shoulders and a determined look plastered on his chiseled face.

She tucked the curtain back in place as three knocks resounded though the house.

“Patience is a virtue,” she muttered as a second repetition echoed like machine-gun fire. Obviously, the man didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Stepping into the foyer, Sarah opened the front door to the extent of the chain lock and regarded the visitor.

Crystal-blue eyes, straw-blond hair cut in a military buzz.

When he turned those blue eyes toward her, a feeling stirred deep within her. She swallowed, having difficulty finding her voice.

Not what she needed at this point in her life. Get a grip, Sarah.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Polite. She’d give him that much. Probably six-two, he had a thick neck, broad shoulders and biceps that bulged beneath the digital pattern of his uniform.

He glanced down at a photograph he clutched in his hand and held it up to where she could see the woman’s image. Expressive round eyes, slender nose, shoulder-length black hair framing an oval face.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for Nicole Valentine.”

No doubt the person in the photo. Sarah raised a questioning brow. “And you came here because…?”

He let out a quick breath. “One-fourteen Rosemont. That is your address, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, but—”

“Nicole Valentine lives here,” he stated before Sarah could continue. Then he paused, probably noticing the perplexed expression on her face. “I just returned from the Middle East. Nicole and I…” He glanced again at the photo. “You see, ma’am, she sent me this address.”

Sarah could read people, and everything about the man standing on her front porch said he was legit. Maybe a little mixed up as to where his girlfriend lived, but the guy didn’t seem to pose a threat to either Sarah or the kids at the shelter.

“Just a minute.” She slipped off the chain lock, opened the door wide and walked onto the porch.

He took a step back. Had she crowded him?

“Look, Major—”

His gaze warmed momentarily. “Hate to turn down a promotion, but it’s captain, ma’am. Captain Jude Walker.”

She nodded and tried to offer him what she realized must have seemed a halfhearted smile. But she did have work to do and kids to take care of, so…

“Captain Walker.”

“Call me Jude, ma’am.”

“And I’m Sarah Montgomery.” The guy seemed sweet in a rugged sort of way, like a cocker spaniel in a rottweiler body.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong address, Jude. This is a shelter for teens. Your girlfriend doesn’t live here.”

“But—”

He hadn’t corrected her when she called the beautiful woman his girlfriend. For half a heartbeat, Sarah envied the woman in the photo.

“A teen shelter? Are you sure?”

His question sounded like one the kids would ask. “Yes, I am sure, Captain. I’m well aware of who finds lodging within this house.”

He tilted his head, a flash of irritation evident in his eyes.

She’d been too abrupt. Sarah sighed. Despite the phone call with Winton Cunningham and the financial reports that didn’t add up, this man—this Jude Walker—deserved a few minutes of her time.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was harsh. It’s been a rough day and…”

She stopped her explanation. No reason to tell the captain about the problem she’d uncovered.

Reaching for the picture, she gave it a long look. “What’d you say her name was?”

“Nicole Valentine.”

A memory niggled at the back of Sarah’s mind.

She glanced into his blue eyes, now hooded, as if her hasty comment had lowered a shield over the open heart he’d exposed earlier.

“Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” She pointed to the wicker rocker. “I’ll check the roster. I’ve worked here for about six months. Seems to me when I first arrived there was a girl named Valentine.”

A flicker of hope flashed over his face. “Thank you, ma’am.”

His sincerity touched her.

She started to step inside and then hesitated, noting the way he sighed with relief as he settled his body into the rocker.

“How long have you been back in the States?”

The sun played over his haunting eyes, and for the first time she saw the fatigue that lined his face.

“Seven days.” He stretched his legs out in front of him.

How had all that length of man managed to stay contained in the crowded seat of an airliner for the long trip back from overseas?

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet, but a lot of people in the United States appreciate what the military’s doing.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Sure. The world could use more Jude Walkers.

“Give me a minute to look up those records.”

She stepped into the house’s warm interior and pulled the door shut behind her. For a moment she leaned against the hardwood frame. Something about the man tugged at her heart.

The accounting problems could wait. She’d give the captain a few minutes of her time before she sent him on his way. That was the least he deserved.

Jude tapped his foot and let out a frustrated breath. He appreciated the shelter worker’s help, but he had expected Nicole to be the woman answering the door.

Not Sarah Montgomery.

Tall and fair-skinned with golden-brown hair. Around thirty. His age or a year or two younger. For all her attempts to be authoritative, she missed the mark. Compassion was what he saw staring back at him from her green eyes.

He scanned the sleepy neighborhood of older homes. Seemed like a safe environment. Not a bombed-out hovel in the lot of them. No bullet-scarred walls, no worry of land mines or IEDs or rocket launchers in enemy hands.

Hardly seemed to warrant a shelter.

Yet every city had areas where bad things happened. Inner-city crime. Street drugs. He may have been deployed for thirteen months but the facts of life remained. Every country had its problems.

Why had Nicole given him this address? Nothing made sense.

Jude glanced at his watch.

What was keeping Ms. Montgomery? Maybe she was calling the police and telling them about the weird guy in a rumpled uniform who had taken up residence on her front step.

A dull thud pounded in the deep recesses of his brain. Chalk it up to the worry that continued to eat at his gut.

Jude closed his eyes and thought of the way the dimples in the corners of Nicole’s cheeks appeared when she laughed.

They had laughed so much. Deep, turn-your-world-topsy-turvy laughter that wiped away the past and gave him hope for the days ahead. Days he wanted to spend with Nicole.

The door creaked. He rose as Sarah stepped onto the porch.

“I checked the overnight log. A young woman named Viki Valentine stayed here for a couple weeks, six months ago. She left just a few days after I arrived.”

“But what about Nicole? Perhaps she was a volunteer?”

“Not in the last six months.”

Jude sighed. Nicole had mentioned a younger sister, although he couldn’t remember her name. As much as he hated to think of someone in Nicole’s family ending up in a shelter for wayward teens, even good kids made bad decisions that got them in trouble. “Do you know where I can find Viki?”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m afraid she left without telling anyone.”

“You must keep records,” Jude pushed.

“Of course, but only if the kids give us information.”

The breeze blew a strand of hair across Sarah’s cheek. She tugged it back into place and tilted her head as she stared back at him. “You’ve got to understand, Jude. Usually the kids who stay here have no place else to go. They run away from a bad life at home and run into a worse situation on the street.”

“You’re saying this Viki Valentine came from a troubled home?”

“More than likely. And for whatever reason, she didn’t want to accept the help we offered.”

“Any idea where I should start looking for her?”

Sarah hesitated, her face clouding for an instant. “Viki may have gone back to where we find a lot of the girls,” she finally said. “The area’s about six blocks from here. Head to Moreland Avenue and go south. At the fourth light make a right. You’ll see a series of run-down motels. Some of the girls work the streets in that area.”

“Work the streets?”

“That’s right. Like so many of the girls we rescue, Viki Valentine is a prostitute.”

TWO

A streetlight glowed in the cold night air, throwing shadows across the faces of the people Jude passed. An empty cigarette pack littered the sidewalk along with fast-food wrappers and the want-ad section of the newspaper, all strewn like rubble across the cracked cement.

Rap music blasted a message of violence and despair from the stream of motorists who cruised the streets, looking for…?

Jude could only imagine.

A plastic bag of powder? Enough crank or ice or speed to drown out the reality of life on the street.

And what was Jude looking for? He’d pounded the pavement for hours, lost in his own world of unanswered questions. Did he really think he could find Nicole?

She was probably far from this area of unfulfilled dreams, living the good life that didn’t include an army guy she’d met by chance at a coffee shop six months ago.

He let out an aggravated breath. Had he deluded himself, thinking fate had brought them together?

Nicole’s take had been less romantic and more realistic.

“Baby, it’s just that our paths crossed for a moment in time.”

And then she’d moved on?

Is that why she’d given him the wrong address?

And what about her e-mail and disconnected phone service? Surely that was overkill.

Unless she was running away. From what?

A two-week relationship filled with the promise of developing into something more?

Jude tugged at his Windbreaker. The temperature had dropped significantly with the setting sun.

At least he’d changed into civilian clothes. No reason to advertise he was military. Plus he doubted people would be forthcoming talking to a man in uniform.

Up ahead two women leaned against a brick storefront, the display window covered in a protective web of wrought iron.

The taller of the two tapped her boots to ward off the cold, the tasseled suede covering more leg than the miniskirt that stopped midthigh. The other stood on red stiletto heels, legs wrapped in fishnet stockings. A thin slip of a dress hung on her bony body. She clutched a denim jacket around her shoulders and shivered in the night air.

Couldn’t be more than fifteen. Pretty mocha face. Shoulder-length hair. Big eyes that turned as Jude approached.

Someone Sarah needed to take home to her shelter.

A late-model sedan pulled to the curb. Two guys, wearing sport coats and ties. The front-passenger window lowered.

Jude fisted his hands and hustled forward, realizing what the men were hoping to buy.

Not the young one.

The older woman climbed into the rear seat, and the car sped away into the night.

The girl left behind stared at Jude.

He dug in his back pocket and fished out his wallet. The least he could do was help. Palming three twenties, he cautiously approached the teen.

Doubtful she’d take the money without encouragement. Maybe he could trade for information.

“Miss?” Jude pulled Nicole’s picture from his pocket. “I’m looking for someone.” The girl glanced nonchalantly at the photo he held up to her.

Jude fingered the bills. “Have you ever seen this woman? Or someone named Viki Valentine?”

A flicker of recognition swept over her face.

“Do you know Viki?”

The girl grabbed the twenties. “Why you want Viki when you can have me? I be nice to you.” She pushed off the brick wall and wiggled toward him. “First time you pick up a girl?”

Jude took a step back. “Look, miss, I’m not interested in buying anything from you except some information. Do you know where I can find Viki Valentine?”

The girl’s eyes swept past Jude, her face caught in a pulse of light. A car door slammed. Jude glanced over his shoulder and squinted into the bright glare.

With a flash of motion, the young woman raced around the corner.

A police officer stepped onto the sidewalk. “Hold it right there, sir.”

The officer mumbled something into the radio on his shoulder. The dispatcher squawked a reply.

Jude raised his right hand, palm out. “I was just talking to the girl.”

“You gave her money.”

“So she could get off the street and find a motel room.” Bad choice of words. “You’ve got it all wrong, Officer. I wasn’t making a buy or trying to pick up the girl. Besides, she couldn’t be more than fifteen.”

“Since when’s that stopped anyone?” Sarcasm was evident in the cop’s voice. “Step to the car, sir. Put your hands on the hood.”

“What?” The cop wasn’t interested in Jude’s side of the story. “I’m a captain in the army. I’ve been overseas for the last—”

“Lonely and lookin’ for a woman, eh?”

“Actually, I am looking for a friend of mine.”

“Friend or not, solicitation’s against the law. Now, spread your legs, hands on the hood.”

“Solicitation?” Jude let out an exasperated breath. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand you’ll be cited with resisting arrest if you don’t move. Now, buddy.”

How had he gotten into this mess?

Jude clamped down on his jaw and held his anger in check as the cop patted him down. Arms, torso, both legs.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

“Officer, this is entirely unnecessary,” Jude said.

Cold steel cuffs snapped around his wrists. The night had gone from bad to worse.

On the opposite side of the street, a utility van pulled to the curb. The driver’s door opened and a black man—probably six-four, three hundred pounds, gold ring hanging from his left earlobe—dodged the traffic and hustled toward them.

“Yo, Brian, my man. What’s up?” The big guy high-fived the cop.

“Another john. Claims he was merely talking.”

The newcomer eyed Jude. “What are you doing, boy? I told you we work outta the van. Last thing you want is to scare off the ladies.”

Jude gave the guy a long, hard look. Who was he?

The officer cocked his brow. “This dude one of yours?”

“A little too zealous, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“He gave money to a young girl,” the cop explained. “She ran off before I could talk to her.”

The black man chuckled. “Now, Jude, how many times I tell you get ’em off the street before you go giving them handouts.”

Okay. Jude shrugged. He’d play along. The last thing he needed was a solicitation charge on his military record. “I was trying to help.”

“I hear ya. But right now, we need you back at the house.” The newcomer looked at the cop. “You mind undoing the cuffs?”

He hesitated.

“Come on, Brian,” said the big man. “My brother always said you were a good man.”

“Not as good as he was.” The officer sighed, then slapped Jude’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. Guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“No harm done.” Jude rubbed his wrists, at last free of the metal restraints. Close call, to say the least.

“Let’s go.” The big guy motioned him toward the van.

On the opposite side of the street, Jude stopped short. “Look, I appreciate your help, but—”

His rescuer eyed the cop, who had paused before getting into his squad car.

“Best get in the van or Brian’ll think I’m a lying skunk. I can drop you at the next corner, if you like.”

Jude glanced across the street. The police officer stared back at him.

Didn’t take long to weigh his options. Jude stepped toward the van. Sliding open the side-panel door, he stared into the same green eyes he’d met earlier today.

“Sarah?”

“Get in,” she said between clenched teeth.

Jude hoisted himself onto the rear bench, surprise written on his face.

She scooted over, giving him more room. “Don’t hand money to anyone on the street.”

His eyes narrowed. “Thanks for the advice. Like I told the cop, I was just trying to help.”

“Which you weren’t. That isn’t what the girl needs. Every guy who wants her for an hour gives her money that ends up in the hands of her pimp. You’ve got to convince her to get off the street. Next time try a little Christian compassion.”

Jude shook his head. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

Sarah’s heart softened. “Look at it this way, Jude, there are rules out here on the street, just like in the military. You could get a girl killed by interfering.”

“What about you?” he shot back.

“I get them off the street. Away from this area, the rules change. They’re safe at the shelter.”

“Until they run back again.”

“You got that right.” The driver turned and extended his hand to Jude. “Name’s Benjamin Ulysses Lejeune. Folks call me Bull.”

“Right time, right place. Thanks.”

“Brian’s a good cop. Just a little quick with the cuffs. Best way to stay out of trouble is to try not to attract attention.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Bull shifted his focus back to the street and turned the key in the ignition. “Where’d you park your car?”

“Next to an all-night doughnut shop, five blocks west of here.”

Bull eased the van into the flow of traffic. Picking up his cell off the console, he punched in a number.

“Antwahn, my man. How goes it?” Bull chuckled. “I hear ya. Listen, I need a favor.” He paused. “Friend of mine left his wheels in the parking lot across from your place.”

Bull glanced back at Jude. “Make? Model?”

“Red Toyota Tundra.”

Bull relayed the information. “Got that, Antwahn? My friend would appreciate no misfortune befalling his vehicle until we get over there.” Bull chuckled again, this time a low rumble that carried more threat than humor before he slapped the cell shut.

Sarah adjusted her seat belt and glanced out the front window, still mad at herself for sending Jude on a wild-goose chase that could have gotten him in serious trouble.

The captain might be able to handle himself in combat, but life on the street was a different matter. Besides, she’d bet his commanding officer wouldn’t have appreciated a call from Atlanta Vice.

Neon lights advertising forbidden pleasure flashed in the night. Sarah blinked at their perverse glare. Up ahead something caught her eye. She crooked her neck as a familiar face came into focus.

Tapping Bull’s shoulder, she said, “Isn’t that Keesha’s friend?”

“Velvet jacket and leather miniskirt? Yeah, that’s her.”

“Pull over.” Sarah slid the panel door open as the van stopped.

The girl on the street turned wary eyes toward Sarah.

“Brittany, you must be hungry, working this late in the cold. We’ve got food back at Hope House.”

The girl shook her head. “Don’t you ask me to come back to the house with you, Ms. Sarah.”

“I bet you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Damian’s gonna take me out for a steak dinner once I finish up tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah stepped onto the sidewalk and walked slowly toward the girl. “Keesha said she misses you.”

The girl’s face clouded. “Keesha still with you?”

“She’s taking classes at Georgia State and earning money by helping out around the house.”

“Don’t tell her you saw me.”

“One night, Brittany. A hot shower. A good meal. A bed of your own. Then you can decide what you want.”

The girl’s bottom lip quivered. “Damian said he’d kill me next time I go with you.”

Sarah pointed to the van. “You know Bull won’t let Damian hurt you.”

The girl peered around Sarah’s shoulder. “Who’s the other guy? A cop?”

Sarah turned. “He’s a new volunteer.”

“Don’t look like he belong around here.”

Sarah studied Jude for a long moment. “Maybe not. But he’s trying.”

Jude started to say something. Sarah flashed him a look she hoped he understood. Keep your mouth shut.

Wrapping her arm around the girl, Sarah gently ushered her toward the van. “Jude, you move up with Bull.”

Without a word of protest, he hopped out of the van.

“Good to see you again, Brittany,” Bull said as she and Brittany climbed into the rear.

Jude tugged the panel door shut, then slid into the front passenger seat.

At the next intersection, Bull made a U-turn. “Hope you don’t mind, Jude, my man, but I’m gonna take the ladies back to the house. Once Brittany’s settled in, I’ll drive you to your vehicle.”

In the rear, Sarah patted Brittany’s arm. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Hopefully, her words would prove true.

Sarah sighed, tired of the pain she saw in the eyes of the kids she pulled off the street. She knew all too well the heavy baggage some children had to carry. Brittany had more than her fair share.

Sarah thought of her own life. A mother who ran through men like water through a sieve. Always searching for love.

Somehow Sarah had never filled those holes, no matter how hard she’d tried. Eventually, she’d realized her mother didn’t need her or want her. A hard reality for a child to accept.

And what about the guy sitting in front of her? He’d be on his way soon enough. Having him underfoot reminded her of a promise she’d made to herself.

Never get involved with men.

When the van pulled to a stop behind the three-story brick house on Rosemont Avenue, Jude hopped out and opened the side panel for the women. Sarah held Brittany’s arm and ushered her toward the back door, the porch light shining a circle of welcome in the otherwise desolate night.

Jude followed them into the large kitchen. An industrial stove and oversize refrigerator took up the far wall. The center of the room was filled with a large metal table that appeared to double as a workstation. A lower shelf held mixing bowls and baking dishes.

A young African-American girl, early twenties, pretty with high cheekbones and a warm smile, entered the kitchen. “Brittany,” she shrieked, throwing her arms around the new arrival.

The two hugged, tears streaming down their cheeks. Sarah rubbed Brittany’s back as Keesha jabbered.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, girl. Where’ve you been? On the street? Honey child, there’s no reason to be doing that. Ms. Sarah, Bull and everyone here at the shelter, they want to help you.”

“Keesha, why don’t you take Brittany upstairs to the girls’ dorm and get her settled?” Sarah suggested. “Then you two come down to the chapel. There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge that I’ll stick in the oven so Brittany can eat after night prayer.”

The girls continued to chatter as they left the kitchen. Sarah glanced at Jude. “When was your last meal?”

“Breakfast at the mess hall this morning.”

“Bet that was tasty.”

His lips twitched. “Are you always so feisty?”

“Feisty?”

“That’s right. You act like a first sergeant ordering everyone around.”

She put her hands on her hips and tried not to smile. Pretty even when she was fussing at someone.

“So tell me, Jude, do first sergeants get to pull rank on captains?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why no, ma’am. They work together to get the job done.”

She pointed to the refrigerator. “Then grab the lasagna from the fridge while I turn on the oven.”

“Maybe I’ll have to demote you, ma’am.”

“Not a chance.” Sarah took the Pyrex dish from his hands and shoved it in the oven. “Should take about thirty minutes to heat up. You’re welcome to stay.”

“I appreciate the offer, but Bull said he’d drive me back to my truck.”

“After night prayer.” Bull stepped in from the cold. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on a peg by the door. “Why don’t you join us?”

Jude shook his head. “I really need to get on the road.”

“Of course you do.” Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall. “But it’s almost 10:00 p.m., and you’re exhausted. Maybe you should eat something and then go back to your motel.”

Jude pursed his lips. “Fact is I never got a room.”

“But you changed your clothes?” she said as she arranged plates and silverware on the table.

“In a public restroom. I guess the first thing I need is the closest motel.”

Bull snickered. “Jude, my man. Fleabag is not what you want. Why don’t you stay here?”

Sarah’s head flew up.

Bull held up his hands. “Now, Sarah, you know we’ve got extra bunks in the boys’ dorm, and I could use the help. No telling when that funding will come through for another overnight employee.”

He slapped Jude’s shoulder. “My advice, we get your truck, then you come back to the shelter. Nothin’ good happens on the street this hour of the night.”

Keesha peered into the kitchen. “Everyone’s in the chapel.”

“We’ll be right there.” Sarah glanced at Jude. “If you want to wash up, the boys’ latrine is downstairs.”

“Latrine?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Works with the first-sergeant persona.”

He followed her out of the kitchen and down a long hallway. Photos of teens lined the walls. Black, white, Asian, Latino, all of them smiling.

Sarah showed him the stairway to the boys’ dorm, then pointed down the hall. “The chapel is the third door on the right.”

Jude found the latrine, glad to wash the city grime from his hands. Retracing his steps, he stopped at the door Sarah had indicated.

Might as well check out the chapel. Anything—even prayer—would be better than sitting alone in the kitchen.

The sweet scent of candles filled the air as Jude stepped inside the small room. Three roughly hewn, wooden crosses hung on the wall behind a table that held a plant in an earthenware pot. Nearby a large leather-bound Bible lay open on a small stand.

Kids sat on the carpeted floor, heads down, legs crossed. Jude counted eight boys and five girls, who all looked like normal teens.

Sarah flipped on a CD player. A woman sang about forgiveness, redemption and the love of the Lord, repeating the syllables in a soothing cadence.

Jude hunkered down in the rear, away from the kids but with a clear view of Sarah, who clasped her hands, head bowed. Bull entered and took a spot on the opposite side of the room.

“Jesus forgave the sinner…” The plaintive song filled the small room and mixed with the wisps of smoke twisting from the candles.

Jude tilted his head back against the wall. Above him, a heater vent pumped tepid air that brushed his cheek and was as soothing as a woman’s touch.

His eyes drooped. He was back in the desert. An IED exploded. He jerked, caught himself. His eyes popped open.

Had anyone seen him doze off? He glanced at Sarah, still bent in prayer.

Did God listen to her?

His eyes flicked over the kids. Did God listen to any of them?

He stared at the two smaller crosses on the wall. Good thief, bad thief.

A story of forgiveness. Or so his father claimed. Ironic, really, but that was the issue, wasn’t it?

Would he ever be able to forgive his dad?

Jude shook himself, hoping to shove the thought into the darkness.

But the memory took hold like an obsession.

A stalled car, an oncoming train. They’d all escaped, until Jude’s mother ran back to get…

The heart-shaped money clip she’d hung on the visor. The only memento she had from her dad.

So why hadn’t his father reacted?

A lump clogged Jude’s throat.

The sound of screeching metal…his mother’s scream…

Jude tried to remember her face. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Wasn’t everyone tall to a six-year-old kid?

A heaviness settled over him. A sorrow for the little boy left behind. For a father whose grief twisted into an inability to relate to his young son. Worse than anything had been the self-righteousness. His dad believed that he walked with the Lord.

To a boy who felt isolated and alone, if his father walked with the Lord that was the last place Jude wanted to be.

He glanced at Sarah. Was her belief twisted, as well? Did she claim God was all loving when He allowed the sick perversions that forced so many kids to seek shelter from the reality of their lives?

Jude knew what it was like to have to escape. An ROTC scholarship to college had been his way out. He hadn’t looked back.

Now, seeing the kids in this room, he realized he’d been one of the lucky ones.

The song faded to silence. Then a small voice spoke. “Father, thank you for taking me from a place of pain and bringing me to a place of safety.”

A girl wept. Her sorrow cut through Jude. So young and so hurt.

“Thank you, Lord, for bringing Brittany back to us.” Keesha wrapped her arm around the teen with the woman’s body and the troubled eyes.

“Thank you for bringing Captain Walker to Hope House.” Jude’s head flew up at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “Help him find his friend.”

Evidently, Sarah believed in the power of prayer. Well, she could talk to the Lord all she wanted. Jude would count on his own ability to find Nicole.

He wanted to leave the stuffy room, the house on Rosemont and Sarah Montgomery with her questioning eyes and love of the Lord.

Jude rose and headed for the door. He didn’t need to be sucked into the hypocrisy of faith. He’d left all that behind when he turned his back on his father. He would leave it behind once again.

Sarah watched Jude bolt from the chapel. The captain acted like one of the troubled kids they picked up off the street. Jude Walker may be put together on the outside, but he was hurting inside. Was it because of the woman he was trying to find? Or perhaps pain he carried from his past?

She glanced at Bull and nodded.

He rose and slipped from the room.

Maybe Bull could help.

Hopefully, once Jude found Nicole, his girlfriend would be able to smooth out the rough edges of his life.

Funny for a woman to give a man the wrong address. Was she related to Viki Valentine? Although Sarah barely remembered the girl, her history couldn’t be good.

So many of the kids were trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle of despair. Hard to climb into the light when you had grown up in darkness.

Sarah thought back to the last man her own mother had brought home. A retired factory worker with a monthly pension and medical benefits. Somehow in her mother’s mind that equated to security. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with love.

Sarah lowered her head and prayed.

Lord, I’m trying to leave the past and move into the future You have prepared for me. But it’s hard to know Your will for my life. If a door opens, give me the courage to walk through it.

THREE

After night prayer, Sarah insisted Brittany eat a hefty helping of lasagna before she and Keesha went upstairs to the girls’ dorm. Sarah tidied the kitchen but left out a plate and silverware in case Jude wanted something to eat when he returned to the shelter.

If he returned.

Bull had posted a note on the bulletin board, saying he was driving Jude back to his truck.

Big and burly, but with a heart of gold, Bull had a way with people. Sarah smiled.

For all his history, Bull had turned his life around. It was hard to believe that the stories about his youth were true. Supposedly he’d controlled the neighborhood, but not in a good way. When his brother—a dedicated cop who was making a difference—was gunned down, God had walked into the midst of Bull’s pain and claimed him as His own.

Maybe Bull could get through to the captain and find out what had sent him racing from the chapel.

Sarah wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed for her office. Dropping into the chair behind her desk, she spotted the blinking answering machine and pushed Play.

“Sarah, it’s Mom. I just wanted to hear your voice, sugar.”

Sarah bit down on her lip.

“It’s been so long since we’ve talked. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I thought things would be better when I married Hank. He said to tell you…well, he’s trying to be a good stepdad, but he thinks you’re running away. Call me, sugar. I’m sure we can—”

“Work things out,” Sarah mumbled, punching the delete message button. Isn’t that what her mother always tried to do?

Except her idea of problem solving involved bringing a new man home. Her mother didn’t understand long-term commitment or self-sacrifice. Nor did she understand her daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world.

Sarah didn’t need a man to complete her. She was fine just the way she was.

“Parents!” she mumbled. Then, realizing she sounded like one of the kids, she laughed out loud.

“You okay?” Keesha stepped into the office.

“I’m fine. What’d you find out about Brittany?”

“Her momma’s sister lives in Macon.” Keesha handed Sarah a three-by-five card. “Here’s the aunt’s name and phone number. I told Brittany you’d talk to her tonight.”

“How’d she react?”

“I think she’s relieved. Her mother has another year in prison before she’s up for parole. Evidently she signed all the forms with Family Services for the aunt to take over guardianship. You know Brittany doesn’t want anything to do with her dad.”

The last time Brittany stayed at the shelter, Sarah had seen her bruises. She would drive Brittany to Macon if need be to ensure the girl wouldn’t have to face her abusive father again.

“Thanks, Keesha. I’ll be sure to tell Cynthia what a great job you’ve been doing while she’s been gone.”

“It’ll be nice to have her back, but I don’t want to even think about you leaving. Have you heard anything about the orphanage position?”

“The board won’t make a decision for a while yet.”

“South America.” Keesha sighed wistfully. “It sounds so exciting.”

“Setting up a program to promote American adoptions of Colombian children?” Sarah laughed. “Sounds like a lot of work to me.”

“At least we’ll have you with us for a little longer.”

Sarah’s heart warmed. Keesha was a hardworking young woman who had cleaned up her life. Now she was taking classes toward a degree and helping with the kids.

When Keesha headed back upstairs, Sarah called Brittany’s aunt, who agreed to pick her niece up first thing in the morning.

Call completed, Sarah turned her attention back to the financial reports. She added up the funds Hope House had received from the foundation over the last six months, then reviewed the Caring Heart’s records for the same time period and checked the contributions.

Why didn’t the figures add up?

She rubbed her fingers over her temples, hoping to ease the pressure that had been building since her earlier conversation with Winton, when the sound of a car CD player broke through the stillness outside.

Sarah tugged back the curtain. A gold Eldorado pulled to the curb.

A twinge of apprehension slid down her spine as she grabbed her sweater and stepped into the foyer.

“That’s Damian’s car,” Brittany cried from the top of the landing. Keesha peered over her friend’s shoulder.

“Go back into the dorm and close the door, Brittany. Keep the lights off and don’t go near the window.” Sarah reached for the doorknob. “Keesha, call Bull’s cell. Tell him I need him back here now.”

Sarah pulled the door open and stepped into the chilly night. The light from the porch scattered over the sidewalk. The Eldorado sat in the shadows beyond, heavy base thumping through the cold.

Wrapping the sweater around her shoulders, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the vehicle. Hopefully, her stance would send a signal to keep moving down the street.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as the driver’s door opened. A man she recognized stepped onto the pavement. Tall and slender, he wore a fur coat and flared jeans. A thick silver chain dangled from his pocket.

“What do you want, Damian?” she called out. Luckily, her voice didn’t expose the nervousness that fluttered through her stomach.

Damian sauntered toward her, a sneer plastered on his long face. “I came to get Brittany. Take her home with me.” He jammed his thumb back at his chest in a possessive motion packed with defiance.

Sarah kept her voice calm. “She doesn’t want to be with you anymore, Damian. Now, turn around and get back in your car before I call the police.”

“Cops are tied up with a raid downtown. They won’t be comin’ this way. Plenty of time for me to go in there and get my woman.”

Sarah stepped to the edge of the porch. “It’s late, Damian. Go home.”

The glint in his eye told her he wasn’t about to leave.

Where was Bull?

Damian reached for Sarah’s arm. She jerked free and ran for the door.

At that instant a red pickup charged down the street and screeched to a stop.

Footsteps sounded on the sidewalk. Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah saw a whirl of movement.

“Jude?”

He grabbed Damian by the shoulders, spun him around and smashed his fist into the punk’s jaw.

Damian crumpled onto the grass.

“Get out of here.” Jude’s voice was low and dangerous. “And don’t come back again.”

Damian staggered to his feet, rubbing his chin.

Jude snagged his shirt collar and leaned into his bloodied face. “And if you ever touch her again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.”

“Son of a—” His hand groped along the waistband of his jeans.

“Watch out,” Sarah screamed, seeing the knife he brandished.

In one smooth movement, Jude grabbed Damian’s wrist with his left hand and twisted. His right fist jabbed into the punk’s gut, causing him to double over and drop the knife to the ground.

Jude pulled him up by the collar and shoved him along the sidewalk. “Don’t come back, you understand me?”

Grunting a reply, Damian slithered into the Eldorado.

Bull raced around the corner of the house just as the car disappeared from sight. “Where is that scum bag?”

“Already taken care of.” Jude picked up the knife Damian had dropped and quickly explained what had happened.

Bull pulled out his cell. “I’ll call the cops and let them know. Damian’s caused a lot of problems in the area recently. Word is, he’s trying to expand his turf.”

Danger past, Sarah slumped with relief. If Jude hadn’t arrived when he did—

He was staring at her. She saw concern in his eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was stern.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I…I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

The light from the porch caught the set of his square jaw. “Why didn’t you stay inside with the door locked?”

“What?”

“You heard me, Sarah. It was foolish to come outside. Did you think you’d scare him away?”

She bristled. As soon as Damian climbed out of his car, she’d realized her mistake. Not that she wanted to admit she’d been wrong. “I was worried about Brittany’s safety.”

“Yeah, well, locking the door and staying inside would have been a wiser course of action. You put yourself in danger. That’s not smart.”

She tapped her foot with annoyance, wanting to be anywhere but caught in Jude’s reproving glare. She was cold and tired and her emotions were pulled to the breaking point.

Retreat was sometimes the best option.

She did a crisp about-face that would make any first sergeant proud and reached for the doorknob. As she stepped inside, Keesha and Brittany tumbled down the steps followed by the rest of the girls.

“Oh, my goodness. Captain Jude, you’re awesome to go up against Damian,” Brittany squealed as Jude followed Sarah into the foyer. The boys raced upstairs from their basement dorm room and surrounded him, as well.

Pretty obvious no one was going back to bed anytime soon.

“Hot chocolate and cookies,” Bull called over the confusion as he scooted inside. “Keesha, you’re in charge.”

The kids ran to the kitchen, leaving the three adults behind.

Bull touched Sarah’s shoulder. “Jude’s right. You never should have gone outside to confront Damian. I told you before, don’t be messing with street scum like him. If he can’t find Brittany…”

“I’ve already called her aunt. Brittany’s leaving in the morning,” she said.

Bull glanced at Jude.

Sarah looked from one man to the other, tired of defending her actions. She threw her hands up in the air. “I was just trying to protect the kids.”

Jude’s face softened. “Of course you were. But if Damian hears you’ve helped Brittany get out of town, next time he won’t be looking for Brittany. He’ll be looking for you.”

She tried to muster a confidence she didn’t feel. “Damian doesn’t scare me.”

Jude tilted his head and raised his brow. “Now who are you trying to fool?”

Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly. “Probably myself. But I won’t let him hurt the kids.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t hurt you, either.”

A strand of hair fell over her cheek. Jude reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

His touch sent a shiver down Sarah’s spine that had nothing to do with Damian and had everything to do with the man standing in front of her.

She stepped back. “It’s late, Jude, and you still need to find a motel room.” Surely he’d take the hint and say good-night.

“Maybe I’d better stick around in case Damian comes back.” He nodded to Bull. “You mentioned a bunk in the boys’ dorm.”

Bull’s face broke into a wide grin. “It’s got your name on it, my man.” He slapped Jude’s shoulder. “I sure could use the help. Now, why don’t both of us have a plate of lasagna and some of those cookies before the kids eat all of them.”

Sarah watched the two men walk toward the kitchen. The way her heart was pounding, she wasn’t sure who she should worry about more, Damian or Jude?

FOUR

Light from the hallway scattered across the wall of the boys’ dorm, illuminating the clock in the corner: 0400 hours. Two hours since Jude had crawled into the bunk, yet sleep continued to elude him. Too many questions raced through his mind.

With a sigh he reached into the duffel he’d stashed under the bed, found the photo and raised it into the half-light. Nicole’s eyes stared back at him.

Why had she given him this address? Was it because of Viki?

Hopefully, he’d locate the younger Miss Valentine in the morning. Surely she’d have information he could use to track down Nicole. If the two were even related.

Returning the photo to the duffel, his fingers touched another piece of paper. He knew what the message said before he pulled it into the light.

“Don’t try to find me.”

The e-mail he’d tried to ignore. Could it be part of a silly game Nicole was playing to see if he loved her enough to search for her?

He almost laughed. If she thought he’d back off because of one ridiculous message, she didn’t know the kind of guy he really was.

Or had something else happened?

Tomorrow was a new day. God willing, he’d find her.

God? He shook his head. Sarah must be rubbing off on him.

Finding comfort with the thought, he closed his eyes and settled into a restful sleep.

The next morning Jude followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen and found Sarah standing over the stove, scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes.

“There’s juice in the fridge. Help yourself to the coffee,” she said as he entered. “Cream and sugar’s on the counter.”

She was dressed in a denim skirt, white blouse and red sweater, looking very patriotic and much too energetic for the amount of sleep she must have had. The kids hadn’t gone back to their dorms until late last night.

Now the winter sun was trying to burn through the haze of a new day. One that he hoped would lead him to Nicole.

Jude dropped his duffel by the back door and glanced at his watch. Still early. He might as well accept Sarah’s hospitality for a few more minutes.

He poured a cup of the hot brew and took a sip. “Coffee’s just what I needed.”

“Everyone’s still talking about how you walloped Damian.”

“The good guys won. That’s what the boys like to hear,” Jude said.

“I think what they like is a guy who’s willing to talk to them. Bull said the boys kept you up most of the night.”

“They wanted to know about the army. I told them, if they were willing to work hard and keep their noses clean, Uncle Sam could use them. Might be a step up from what I saw last night.”

Sarah stirred the eggs. “I don’t know much about the military except that anyone who served in the Middle East deserves a good breakfast. Cereal and doughnuts are in the dining room where the kids eat. I thought you might like a heartier meal.”

She piled the eggs and pancakes onto a plate and held it out to him. “Your breakfast, sir.”

Once again he glanced at his watch. “Sarah, I really need to—”

“Look for that girlfriend of yours. I know, but you have to eat.”

“Bull said you could be stubborn.” Smiling, he accepted the plate, grabbed utensils from a basket on the counter and pulled a tall stool to the worktable. “Thanks for the chow and a place to sleep.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.