Unable to return to a dark and silent home, Jenna ducked into a grocery store and grabbed a fresh loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. Not super-fancy fare, but it would fill her belly. She ate in her car in the grocery’s parking lot, her thoughts returning to Morgan’s Lost Girl. She could keep tweaking her sketch of the Lost Girl for days. A bit more shade here. A softening of the nose or chin. More curls or less curls in the hair.
But as she drained the last of her coffee, she realized it was time to let her go. She knew herself well enough now to know if she kept playing with the sketch, she’d overthink it and ruin the image. Better to put it on Rick Morgan’s desk and be done with the assignment.
She dropped her head back against the headrest. It wasn’t like her to overthink or be indecisive. It wasn’t like her to sit alone in grocery store parking lots too afraid to go home.
“What the hell is happening to me?”
She’d come to Nashville to answer a question that might not ever have a real answer. Why did Ronnie kill her family? Because he was troubled, insane. Not fair, but the truth. Who was Shadow Eyes? Maybe in Ronnie’s drug-addled mind, he’d imagined the second person and was talking to thin air.
Whether her questions had clear answers or not she had to dig into both and be sure. “I don’t quit, Detective Morgan.”
She checked her watch. There was still time to draw a few faces in front of KC’s. She couldn’t say no to the money.
Thirty minutes later, she’d parked behind Rudy’s and set up her easel and stool. Broadway hummed with a mixture of tourists this time of night. The family crowds were looking for a place to eat, knowing many excluded the under twenty-one set after seven. The later customers were ready to rock and party. While one set looked bedraggled and ready to ease up for the day, the other group was freshly coiffed, smelling of perfumes and aftershaves in anticipation of a fun night on the strip.
Jenna set up her easel right outside of Rudy’s because it was a prime location. It was impossible to pass her by and not see the older drawings she’d done, which she’d matted and leaned against the brick wall.
Jenna wrestled the three wobbly legs of her easel into place and made sure it stood steady. She opened her box of colored chalks and clipped a clean white sheet of paper to the easel. The afternoon sun had eased and the air cooled. The night promised to be lucrative.
As she unfolded and adjusted her small stool, KC spotted her through the window and nodded. He filled a large glass with water and made his way through the tables outside.
“Wasn’t sure if you were going to make it tonight.”
“Been a crazy week. I almost bailed but decided the weather was too nice to pass up.”
He handed her the water, her standard drink when she worked. “I hear you’re helping on an old case.”
She shrugged. “I am.”
He pursed his lips as if a swell of emotion threatened to break his voice. “That’s good of you.”
She opened her bag and pulled out a rag to wipe her hands clean. “Let’s hope we catch the bad guy.”
“I worked a fair number of missing persons cases back in the day. When I heard about the kid found in the park I tried to remember her but I couldn’t.”
Do you remember me?
“No one seems to remember her.”
A frown furrowed deep creases between his eyes. “I would have remembered a kid reported missing. I always remembered the child cases.”
She straightened her shoulders, knowing she’d been one of those child cases. Just ask him!
“Yeah. They’re the worst.”
Folding his arms, he cocked his head. “Georgia told me you were born in Nashville?”
So Rick and Georgia must’ve talked about her. “That’s right.”
“Why come back?”
She wasn’t fooled by the easy questions. She’d bet he’d played good cop back in the day. “Asked myself that question a lot.”
“I was a cop long enough to know when someone is searching. What’re you searching for?”
A breeze caught the music from the honky-tonk’s open door and sent the sounds swirling around her. Her heart thudded faster and faster in her chest. “Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t.”
“Both, I suppose.”
He rubbed his hand over the line of his jaw. “You can talk to me, Jenna. I’ve got no dog in the fight.”
She reached for a chalk and started to draw the outline of a face. “I bet there’re places in your past you don’t want to look.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “You’ve been asking around about me?”
“No.” She’d not asked but had read up on him shortly after she started drawing here. He’d appeared in quite a few newspaper clippings. There’d also been articles about Georgia, Deke, and Rick. And if she dug deeper, she knew there’d be articles about her. She’d been unable to muster the courage to read those accounts.
His breath rushed, carrying with it words he rarely spoke. “There was some crap last year in my life. A person I trusted turned on me. Tried to hurt people I love.”
His story had been covered in the paper. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t like talking about it. Do my best to pretend it never happened. As much as I deny the memories, they find me when I least expect it.”
Shadow Eyes. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected that specter to haunt her. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “So what do you do?”
He shoved out a breath as if expelling poison. “Come here to work. Sometimes I drink.” His gaze narrowed. “What do you do?”
That teased a bitter smile. She almost denied she had troubling memories and then heard herself say, “I draw.”
“What do you draw?” She focused on the sketch, quickly drawing KC’s nose, lips, and finally his eyes.
“You draw me?”