Tabitha called Mallory first thing Wednesday morning. If Jason and his father had been stationary for a year, there was no reason to believe that a few hours would make a difference, but to her, every second she was away from her son mattered.
The daycare owner wasn’t as openly friendly as she’d been during their previous conversations. When Tabitha explained that Johnny was her lawyer and she had a legal issue to discuss with her, Mallory clearly didn’t appreciate the contact. But, in the end, she agreed to meet with Tabitha and Johnny on Wednesday evening at a pub not far from the professional building that housed The Bouncing Ball. And she’d said she was bringing a man named Braden Harris with her. She didn’t ask, she told.
More nervous than ever about tipping off Mark, Tabitha had requested that the meeting not be in the one place she really wanted to be—the building where her son spent the majority of his waking hours.
“I don’t think she trusts us,” Tabitha told Johnny just before eight that night as they waited at a high-top table in a back corner of the room, away from the big front window where they could be seen. Where Jason’s father could recognize Mallory, or worse, Tabitha.
Not that Mark frequented bars. Or would bring his toddler son to one.
“The hope is that when she sees my credentials and hears your story, she’ll change her mind about that.”
Running a hand over her ponytail, letting it fall down her back, Tabitha concentrated on taking slow, even breaths. Johnny had offered to close the food truck early to give them time to shower and change before the eight o’clock meeting, but she’d opted for them to come as they were. They weren’t out to impress, and the food truck was part of their story.
“I wonder who this guy is that she’s bringing with her,” she said to Johnny, one of several renditions of the same thought she’d shared with him throughout the day.
“Since they share the same last name, I’d guess Braden Harris is either a brother or a husband,” he said, the same answer he’d given her each time she’d mentioned the unknown man.
She wasn’t thinking so much about the man’s relationship to Mallory as her reason for bringing him. “You think he’s a cop?” she asked now. Throughout the day, she’d suggested lawyer, business partner, bodyguard.
“It wouldn’t be horrible if he was a cop. It could work in our favor.”
Our. Warmth spread through her. Other than Jackson, she’d never felt as close to anyone in her adult life as she did to Johnny. He was on loan from his real life; she understood that.
But for the time she had him...
His cell phone rang—a somewhat unusual occurrence as the few people who had his current cell number knew not to call him unless it was important. It took Tabitha about ten seconds to figure out that the caller was Alistair Montgomery.
Johnny mouthed the man’s name to her almost immediately, but she would’ve known the identity from the way he assured the caller that no time was inappropriate to call. That he welcomed news any hour of the day or night.
He really and truly had her back. Just like she had his.
* * *
“Alistair is passing off his other cases to a peer so that he can be on this full-time,” Johnny said, phone in hand as his call ended. Tabitha nodded, still nervous as she glanced toward the door. Mallory was due in less than five minutes.
“You don’t think she’s going to be a no-show, do you?”
“I suspect she’d have called if that was the case.”
It wasn’t the end of the world, either way. Tabitha had tipped her hand to the daycare owner in that Mallory now knew she didn’t just have a daughter to enroll, but she hadn’t said a word about Mark or Jackson, so they were safe there. “Don’t you want to hear Alistair’s news?” Johnny asked, drawing her attention back to their table.
; “I assumed it’s that he’s working the case himself.”
“He’s got Mark in his sights, Tabitha. Or rather Matt, Jason’s father.” His gaze didn’t leave her face. “As soon as he can get a clear head shot, he’s going to be sending over some photos to see if you recognize him.”
Heart pounding, she stared right back at him. “Matt, Mark. Jason, Jackson. That’s too much to be a coincidence.”
His shrug wasn’t a nod, but he didn’t disagree with her, either. “And Jackson?” she asked. “He’s seen him? He knows he’s okay?”
“He has and he does, as far as he can tell from a distance.”
Johnny leaned toward her and looked for a second as if he was going to touch her. But then he picked up the glass of soda he’d ordered when they first came in. She wrapped her fingers around her tea glass, wishing he had touched her. Wishing he was holding the hand currently soaking up condensation.
“Matt’s a personal trainer,” he said. “He has a small gym in the same building that houses The Bouncing Ball.”
“A personal trainer.” Keeping her gaze locked on his, she tried to envision Mark in that line of business. He’d been in decent shape, not overweight, but she’d never known him to exercise. Or watch his diet. “His medical training would give him a basic mastery of anatomy, muscles and metabolism and how they work together,” she said, refusing to get discouraged. It wasn’t as though the man was stupid enough to try to find work in his own field.