He’d planned to tell Daisy as much as he could while she put the puzzle together. Anything not to have to see her face when he told the story. But he hadn’t. He’d tried, but he couldn’t make the words come. He did not want to see pity in her eyes. Ever.
He wanted to see interest. Respect. Gratitude wouldn’t be bad. He’d liked seeing that in her eyes after he’d talked to her father. Who’d texted him three times this afternoon, apologizing every time he’d asked if his daughter was all right. Gideon didn’t mind answering. He could be a buffer for Daisy, at least for today. She had too much on her mind to be stressed out by her father, even if he really seemed to care about her.
Daisy made a small sound of delight—the same sound she made every time she’d fitted another piece of the puzzle together. But she didn’t stop to celebrate. She kept going, her blue eyes barely blinking.
He found himself wondering if she made that sound at other times. If she’d make that sound with him. In the bed that took up the back wall of the apartment. He closed his eyes, willing his body to stand down, because that noise she made lit up every nerve he had.
He needed to stop torturing himself. She was off-limits. Period. In another situation, he might have felt okay with asking her out. Like if you’d gone to Irina’s Sunday dinner and met her like Irina wanted you to. But he hadn’t and now he was meeting her when she was vulnerable.
As am I. He was dreading the moment when she pieced the man’s face together. Dreaded knowing who had married Eileen after Edward McPhearson was dead. He hoped it would be one of the kinder men, but his gut was telling him it wouldn’t be.
Gideon forced himself to look away from her to his laptop, where he’d been composing an e-mail. He was calling in a favor, pure and simple. If his former colleague couldn’t help him quickly, he’d have to get into the sketch artist’s queue at the field office and that could take forever.
Hi Tino—I hope you are well. I have a favor to ask. I’ve attached a photo of a twelve-year-old girl. She’s a person of interest in my investigation, who could be in danger. She’s currently thirty years old. Can you work your magic and send me a rendition of what she’d look like now? I need this ASAP, of course. If you’re too backed up to turn it around quickly, can you let me know? I’ll find someone else to do it, but your work is the best I’ve seen.
Thanks,
Gid
He’d scanned the photo of Eileen from her first wedding, editing out the man at her side. Seeing McPhearson’s face wasn’t necessary for Tino to do his age progression, and Gideon didn’t want anyone asking too many questions about Eileen’s first husband.
Because I killed him. And he was not sorry. Not even a little bit.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 5:55 P.M.
Daisy blinked at the sudden flood of light. Gideon had rolled her crafting light to the table. A look over her shoulder showed the sun had dropped below the horizon.
She lifted her eyes to Gideon’s face. “Oh no. We were supposed to go to the pet store so that you could scope it out before dark.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “This is more important. We can leave early tomorrow morning. Did you know your stomach’s been growling?”
Daisy felt her cheeks heat. “Sorry. I get . . . sucked into stuff like this.”
He shook his head, then went to the microwave. It smelled like he was heating up the pirozhki and her stomach growled again, loudly.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, taking the food out of the microwave. “Watching you work a puzzle is better than ninety-eight percent of the shows on TV.”
“What shows are the two percent that are better?” she asked, teasing him.
“Fixer Upper and . . .” He turned to face her, bowl in hand, hesitating. His wince accentuated an epic blush that was far too attractive. “Buffy.”
She grinned at him, because his being a fan of the vampire slayer was the last thing she’d expected. “Another blonde who’s not too stupid to live.”
His expression grew pained. “I never said that about you.”
She softened her tone, so that he’d know she’d been teasing. “No, you didn’t.” Sliding off the stool, she stretched her back. “Although sitting on that stool wasn’t smart. Now my back is killing me.” She replaced it with the chair Rafe had vacated. How long ago, she wasn’t sure. Sinking into the chair, she flashed Gideon a grateful smile when he handed her the bowl of pirozhki and a fork.
“So your fingers don’t get messy,” he said, gesturing to the puzzle. He moved his chair so that he sat next to her instead of across. “You’re making progress.”
She hadn’t yet finished the man’s face. She had his eyebrows and forehead, his left cheek and half of his mouth, his right eye, and his chin. But she was close.
“The light’s going to make it easier to put the rest of his face together, so thank you,” she said, her gaze back on the table. “I didn’t even realize it had gotten dark. What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost six. You were sucked into it for three and a half hours.”
She frowned. “I should be done by now. I can do a six-hundred-piece puzzle in two hours. To be fair, though, this is not a normal puzzle.” She sorted through the remaining pieces that went with the man’s face. “I just hope we aren’t missing any.”
“We have software we can use to extrapolate,” Gideon said. “Do what you can.”
A soft bump to her ankle had Daisy looking down to where Brutus gazed up, all bat ears and hopeful eyes. She scooped her up and nuzzled her. “Are you feeling ignored, girl?”
Gideon frowned. “Girl? She’s a girl? Why did you name a girl dog Brutus?”
“I couldn’t think of a girl name that was as mean. She’s little and sweet. I wanted her to feel big and tough on the inside.”
Gideon didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”
“Don’t diss the dog,” she said lightly. “She helped me fight off that man last night.”
He nodded once, one side of his mouth bending up. “Fair enough.”
Wishing she could see him really smile, she set Brutus on the floor and forced her eyes to the puzzle. She tried to find the man’s left eye, but there were no more eye-type pieces. “I think we’re missing an eye.”
She felt Gideon’s response before she could lift her eyes to his face, which had grown abruptly pale.
“Gideon?” Daisy slid her hand over the exposed skin at his wrist. He’d taken off his suit jacket, but his shirt was still buttoned to his throat, sleeves buttoned at the cuffs. His tie still knotted tight.
She contemplated loosening the tie if he didn’t snap out of it. “Gideon?” She gave his arm a hard shake. “Agent Reynolds.”
He looked down at her, his eyes strangely . . . off. “Look for a patch,” he murmured.
It took her a second. “Oh. I said we were missing an eye. I meant the pieces.” She studied him cautiously. “But you didn’t. You meant that he’s actually missing his eye. Because you’ve just figured out who this is.”
He swallowed hard. “Just see if there is a patch. Please.”
The please had been uttered politely. Formally. It broke Daisy’s heart, because Gideon did know who this man was and he was afraid. The big strong man sitting next to her was afraid.
She focused on the remaining pieces, quickly finding the patch now that she knew what she was looking for. She should have figured it out sooner, she thought, mentally chiding herself. There was a dark diagonal line over the man’s forehead. She’d thought it was a flaw in the photo, but now she knew that it was the cord that held the patch in place.
“Yes,” she said, putting the pieces together and sliding them into place on the man’s face. “You know who he is,” she repeated.
He nodded, then opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again and finally answered. “His name doesn’t mean anything, though, because it isn’t real. Finish his face and we’ll get him out on the wire.”
That this man terrified Gideon years after he’d known him was significant. It was another wedding photo. With the girl he’d once known. “Why did Eileen tear up this picture?” Daisy asked as she searched for the man’s nose.
“Why do you think?” Gideon asked hoarsely.
“Because he abused her,” Daisy said, anger flattening her voice. She sorted and matched faster, putting together the pieces of what Gideon had left unsaid. Did he abuse you, too, Gideon?
God, she hoped not, but it might explain the sick pallor on his face.
“He’s not the man who attacked me last night,” she said, not looking up from the table. “He had both his eyes.”
Gideon said nothing so she let him be, putting together the nose, then starting on the mouth. It had been important before, but now the need was urgent.
She sat back, regarding the face that stared up at her. He was stern, unsmiling, his mouth turned down into a near scowl. He did not look friendly.
“What’s the name you knew him by?” she asked Gideon quietly as she pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants. She snapped a photo and texted it to Rafe.