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A sleepy smile curved her lips. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He inhaled, warm spice filling his senses, and she shifted, looping her arms about his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
“Come to bed.”
“Can’t.” He nuzzled the shell of her ear. “Got just enough time to shower and eat before I head out to Tallahassee.”
She blinked, awareness coming into her sleepy gaze. “You’ve been gone all night? What time is it?”
“Almost six.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “Tori and Cookie are bringing breakfast.”
“What about David?” Concern darkened her eyes, softened her voice. “His sister?”
He shook his head, and she frowned, sitting up when he pulled back. “Nothing since Friday night.”
“I’m sorry.” A wealth of knowledge lay in the words, and he nodded, mouth tight. He didn’t have to break it down for her. She knew.
“Yeah.” He laced their fingers, passing his thumb over her knuckles. “Me, too.”
She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make coffee while you shower.”
A half-smile, half-grimace twisted his lips. “Can’t wait.”
He rose, and she slipped from the bed, pulling on her robe as she walked to the kitchen. A quick shower and session with his electric shaver made him Bureau-presentable. Tie loose around his neck, he tossed his suit coat over the back of the couch.
Perched on a stool at the island, she cupped a mug in both hands, examining her planner. Setting the coffee aside, she gestured him closer. “Let me get your tie.”
He stood, her knees bracketing his thighs, while she knotted the dark green foulard silk, the one he’d bought because the color was a close match for her eyes. Lifting her cup, he took a cautious swallow. “Maybe if we try a different brand.”
“Perhaps.” She tweaked the knot and smoothed the silk down his torso.
He caught her hand, pressing her palm over his heart. “You don’t know how thankful I am to be drinking decaf with you.”
“It’s mutual.” In the soft huskiness of her voice also lay the dichotomy of being blessed with this child while Mrs. Lauree didn’t know where Vontressa was.
He had legit nightmares about that sometimes, when the memories of investigating trafficking operations arose, the idea, the yawning dark of having Eleanor — because it was always Eleanor in his dream — gone and possessing no way to find her tormenting him.
Mrs. Lauree was living that.
He didn’t even want to think about it.
A pair of engines sounded in the drive, the outside lights flaring as Cookie and Tori climbed from their respective vehicles. He crossed to the door, Tori plopping a kiss on his cheek as she swept by him, Cookie pressing to his chest a familiar white bag that smelled like heaven . . . and days of running.
“Caitlin, I’m so glad you’re here!” Tori wrapped her in a tight hug. “Gosh, it’s been forever.”
“We’ve been incredibly busy.” With a smile for his sister, Caitlin met his gaze over the island. He set the bag down, and Cookie pulled out waxed-paper wrapped breakfast sandwiches from the County Line. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Tori settled on the stool next to Caitlin and reached for a sandwich. “I asked David about Vontressa’s banking information. He had access to her account. No transactions since she went to Target Friday afternoon.”
Tick paused in unwrapping a sandwich, appetite decimated. He’d expected as much, but he didn’t want to hear it.
“Is Friday her last known contact?” Caitlin watched him, no commentary on his choice of breakfast foods, and that made the whole surreal situation worse.
“Yeah.” He turned away to pour a couple of cups of coffee, setting one in front of Cookie. Tori popped the top on the small bottle of orange juice she’d brought with her. “She’s on security video, leaving alone near midnight. She doesn’t come back.”
“I see.”
He lifted his sandwich, the quick bite tasteless. Brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown, Cookie took a swallow of coffee and choked. He reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth, scowling at Tick. “Did you make this?”
