Her gaze had been a dare and as she’d stared at him, he’d felt an unlikely emotion steal through his bloodstream, a yearning to know more about her, a concern that went far beyond a casual interest in the birth mother of his child.
Still staring at him, she’d lowered her sunglasses. A long moment passed, then she slid into the open door of the waiting car. He’d felt it then, the slight change in the atmosphere, an altering of his thoughts. For the first time he’d noticed the sweat that was running down his temples and collecting on his palms.
Travis had watched the car drive down the street until it had rounded the corner at the first stoplight. Long after the crowd had dispersed he’d stood and stared at the spot where he’d last seen the Mercedes.
Something inside of him had shifted.
Something dark, something he didn’t understand, something he didn’t want to consider, had thrummed for a heartbeat before disappearing.
In the shade of the tree, he’d thought of Ella, not six months in her grave. Ella, with her short blond hair, wide smile and apple cheeks. She’d been wise and happy, and a friend who had turned into his wife, then his lover. A kind woman. A churchgoing woman. A safe woman. A barren woman.
And a hundred and eighty degrees from Shannon Flannery.
Guilt had driven a painful stake into his heart and from that moment forward, he’d felt a frisson of trepidation whenever he’d heard Shannon’s name. He’d started a file on her that he kept locked in his den, and late at night he would sometimes sort through it.
It sounded crazy now, but that day, nearly three years earlier, he’d had a premonition, an inkling that their paths would cross again. Had it been because of Dani? Or was it something he’d rather not consider?
Whatever the reason, he’d been right.
He intended to chase her down.
Because of his daughter.
Her daughter.
A girl missing.
His muscles tightened as he remembered that after his trip to San Francisco, upon his return, Dani had begun asking dozens of questions about who her birth parents were. She’d never said “real” parents, and she’d always tried to be sly about her questions, never asking them directly, but he suspected her interest ran deep. Though he had no proof, he’d even thought Dani had tried to find the woman, had maybe stumbled upon the documents of her adoption that he’d kept hidden in that locked file. Dani, though the apple of his eye, was smart and sly, could pour on the charm, feign complete innocence, even when she was scheming something behind those wide eyes.
One time he’d caught her on their home computer in a chat room for adoptees searching for their natural parents, and he was certain that, though she’d pretended disinterest since then, she’d found a way to keep searching.
Damn. He should have talked to her, been open about it, but he’d just thought she was too young.
So, even if it wasn’t Shannon Flannery who had come searching for her, perhaps Dani, in her attempts to locate her birth mother, had either taken off, or somehow been lured away.
Don’t even think like that, he warned himself. The truth of the matter was that he could be all wet. Maybe Shannon Flannery had long ago gotten on with her life and had not a whit of interest in the baby she’d given up for adoption. Same with Dani’s biological father, Brendan Giles. But that weak lead was the only one Travis had at the moment.
Of course he knew where Shannon resided. From the moment at the courthouse when he’d seen her in the flesh, Travis had kept up with Shannon’s whereabouts. He’d told himself it was to prepare for the day when his daughter would demand to meet her birth mother, but he wondered now, scooping his shaving gear from the bathroom sink into a small nylon bag, if his fascination with her had a deeper, as yet unfathomable meaning.
He wouldn’t think of that now. Nor would he dwell on the fact that he and Dani had recently celebrated her thirteenth birthday.
Now he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.
Travis’s guts twisted as he yanked down a duffel bag and threw in a couple pairs of jeans and the first two shirts he found hanging in his closet. Then, with an eye on the door, he reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a locked metal box.
Inside was his gun.
A Glock. Forty-five caliber. Big enough to blow a substantial hole in anyone who got in his way. He probably wouldn’t need to be armed. He was planning on dealing with the birth mother of his child, for God’s sake. And yet, he believed in being prepared. For anything. Maybe Shannon wasn’t in this alone. And hell, maybe she wasn’t a part of it at all. She was just the first and only lead he could come up with.
But someone had his kid.
And when he met whoever it was, he wanted to make certain that he tipped the odds in his favor.
He held the weapon and it felt good in his hands, just the right weight. He curled his fingers over the smooth handle, sticking his index finger through the trigger loop.
The pistol was unloaded.
He found the shells, pocketed them, then tossed the gun into his bag. His pickup was already equipped with everything else he might need: night vision goggles, small telescope, hunting knife, camouflage jacket and other pieces of equipment he’d become familiar with during his stint with the army.