Page 50 of Speechless
No longer.
“Jenna’s been in my care for almost a month.”
“She has.”
“Why hasn’t he come for her then, if he knows where she is? The house isn’t exactly a fort, and there’s me protecting her. Easy enough to walk in under the pretense of being a new patient or a tourist with an ailment, dispatch me, and take her.”
Hadley sighed. “Would you like my take on it?”
“If it’s going to give me answers, yeah.”
“Okay. Sire likely knew what condition Jenna was in when she ran. She was a mess, judging by the photos, your written reports and physical evidence. If I was a serial killer intent on reclaiming a lost victim, I wouldn’t want to spend time fixing something I was going to break again. I’d let someone else do the healing, then take greater satisfaction in ripping it to pieces.”
“He’s letting me put her back together so he can torture her again.”
The sympathy in Hadley’s eyes confirmed Connor’s fears. “I believe so. This is a successful man, Connor. Over eighteen years, he’s honed his craft without alerting the authorities to his identity. Left a chessboard of bodies over the country without leaving behind a stray hair, a strand of evidence to track him with. There’s a reason he hasn’t come for her yet, and my experience with both the Atlanta PD and the FBI leads me to that conclusion.”
“She needs to come into protective custody, Con. Her recovery can be completed under a fully trained FBI staff with qualifications you wouldn’t believe. Doctors and nurses with self-defense and arms training. The bastard wouldn’t get near her.” Caleb whipped his hat off belatedly, dropped it on the center section of the couch. “I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on this, over the…over Jenna. I’ve been harsh and I’ve been out of line. But this is how you give her the rest of her life, brother.”
“No. Jenna’s struggling with several things. Changing her routine, her surroundings, the people dealing with her…she has nightmares,” Connor told Hadley. “She needs stability and the people she knows. I won’t make her give that up.”
Hadley nodded. “We’ve narrowed the list of missing people resembling Jenna down to a manageable number. At present, I have someone comparing physical attributes, DNA. Once we have a match, we’ll make a concerted effort to trace her family.”
A subtle warning, Connor noted. Once they found her family, the FBI would take custody of her, pass her over to people she didn’t know, couldn’t remember, and they would be her guardians. They would make the choices for her, and he would have no option but to step back. “Jenna has the right to choose whether she stays here or goes with them in that eventuality.”
“That will be taken into account, yes.” Hadley checked his watch. “I have an appointment coming up soon. I would appreciate it if you would allow me to say hello to Jenna. Possibly ask her a couple of questions, if they won’t upset her.”
He rebelled against the idea instantly, his mind straining against the notion of setting Jenna firmly in the middle of the shitstorm. But he mulled it over. One girl had already died since Jenna escaped; how many more did Sire have at his disposal, or have intentions of kidnapping for his own sick ventures?
She could help. He thought she’d want to help save other girls from a fate worse than hers. Well, some might not see it that way—the victims who died at Sire’s hands were gone, no memories to haunt them or pain to suffer through every damn day.
Luck was in the eye of the survivor.
“All I’m willing to do is ask her to come in here. I can’t guarantee she will, and I won’t force her to. She doesn’t like Caleb, and she doesn’t know you. Don’t be surprised if you receive an adverse reaction.”
“I value your cooperation, Connor.”
“It’s not mine you need to value.” Connor pushed out of the recliner, stalked to the bottom of the stairs with dread curdling in his belly. This could go so, so wrong in an instant. He called up the stairs. “Sarah?”
A few seconds, then the bedroom door clicked open. “Connor?”
“Would you ask Jenna if she would come down here for a minute, please?”
“I…are you sure?”
He rubbed between his eyebrows. “Yeah. It’s important, Sarah.”
Her disapproving grunt echoed down. “I’ll ask.”
Connor drummed his fingers on the bannister. Part of him wanted Jenna to refuse to come down. Another part knew she would come because he’d requested it.
God, he had a headache brewing, painful enough to drop a donkey. It didn’t feel like he’d been back from his quick restorative break for only a couple hours.
“D-Daddy?”
He looked up, saw her standing at the top of the stairs, and his breath seized in his lungs. She was so damned beautiful, a little heartbreaker in the making.
Sarah had been busy—Jenna wore another of his shirts, and he wondered how much persuasion his nurse had used to get Jenna to part with the bull one. This one was checked, gold and blue, one of his dress shirts for nights when he felt like socializing. It was buttoned to the top, hung down her lean frame to her knees.