Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,14
was off on a dangerous assignment without him. And it would be another week, at least, before she came safely home.
So last night, as the green beans and peas were both heating in the microwave, Sam had sat down with Haley on the floor of the kitchen and told her it was obvious there was nothing to do but go on and have a good ol’ cry.
“Why are you crying?” she’d asked.
“Wah,” he’d said. “The Dallas Cowboys lost the football game last week.”
His pretend sobs had made her giggle, at least for a little while.
Still, the entire rest of the evening had been filled with the potential for an all-out meltdown.
The first few days had been fun. An entire week at Daddy’s was a novelty for Haley, who’d never spent more than a weekend away from her mother. Sam knew it had been exciting for her, too, to look at the pictures from the brochure and imagine Momma and her new husband having a romantic vacation aboard a cruise ship.
As for Sam, he’d appreciated the distraction—what was Alyssa doing right now? Was she in danger? Was he going to have to wait another five days before she had a chance to call him again?—as he took his tiny blond daughter to the zoo and over to Old Town San Diego.
But today, over their Cap’n Crunch and orange juice, Sam and Haley had started counting the days on the calendar—four—until Mary Lou came back home.
Four days was definitely doable, provided they didn’t miss any more of those very important naps.
Provided Sam could convince Haley to fall asleep. He’d just sat with her for more than an hour, holding her hand.
The phone shrilled again as Sam searched for it among the pile of toy cars and dolls on the living room rug. He loved his little daughter dearly, but please sweet Jesus, don’t let her wake up yet.
He managed to find and grab the cordless phone before it completed that second ring. “Sam Starrett.” Shoot, he must be tired. This was his home phone, and here the correct greeting was Hello.
The woman on the other end didn’t seem to mind. “Please hold for Mr. Cassidy,” she said.
Well, la di dah. Lookie who got himself a secretary.
Sam had left a message for Jules Cassidy just yesterday, asking for an update in the FBI’s search for the serial killer known as “the Dentist.” Just over a year ago, he and Lys had handled a missing person case that hadn’t ended happily. They’d found the young woman they were searching for—or rather, they’d found what was left of her after the Dentist worked her over.
They’d also discovered that the Dentist had been posing as a ski instructor in New Hampshire, using the alias Steve Hathaway.
Alyssa—normally tough as nails—had been unusually upset when they’d found the body, even though the murder had occurred six months earlier. She’d taken it personally—so Sam had started getting regular updates on the case from Jules, her friend and former partner from her FBI days.
It was obvious to Sam that after seeing that dead girl, Lys wanted to kick the Dentist’s ass straight to hell where he belonged. She was afraid—and rightly so—that it was just a matter of time before the killer targeted his next victim.
After months of no progress, a man had recently surfaced in a resort town in Colorado who fit Hathaway’s description. Sam was hoping the FBI agents working the case would locate the Dentist’s grisly souvenirs from his victims and have enough evidence to take him into custody before Alyssa returned.
Giving her that news would be a wonderful welcome-home present—a thought that made him smile. Forget about flowers and chocolate. His wife wanted a psycho-killer behind bars.
She was different from most other women, no doubt about that. Which was not to say she didn’t love chocolate.…
Ah yes, Sam missed her very much.
The line clicked, and Jules finally came on. “Sam.”
“Hey,” Sam greeted him, genuinely glad to hear Jules’s voice. Five years ago, if someone had told him that he’d be happily married to his old nemesis Alyssa Locke, and best friends with her best friend—an openly gay man—Sam would’ve laughed his ass off. But obviously a lot could happen in five years. “Thanks for calling me back, Mister Cassidy.”
There was the briefest pause, then Jules said, “I guess you’re not watching TV.”
“What? No. I’ve got Haley for the week and anything besides Sesame Street is too intense for her,” Sam said as he now began searching