Yesterday's Gone. Janice Johnson Kay

dated for a while. I actually became interested in your disappearance after hearing the story from her.”

      “Really.” It was as if he’d confirmed something she had already guessed. “‘Dated.’ Past tense?”

      “Uh... I haven’t called her in a few weeks. It was never more than casual.”

      She scrutinized him for an unnerving moment. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

      Sure it is. His reaction was immediate and powerful. Seth didn’t share it.

      “I don’t blame her if she resents me,” Bailey continued, sounding thoughtful. “When you first mentioned her, I couldn’t help thinking, So they replaced me. I’d have resented her, if I cared. You know.”

      He knew. She had felt a pang of resentment she refused to acknowledge.

      “When Eve first told me the story,” he said, “she sounded offhanded about it. ‘Here’s something out of the ordinary.’ I don’t think it crossed her mind I’d go anywhere with it, even though she told me because she knew I regularly work cold cases. Once I dug into it...” He hesitated, then shrugged. “She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. If I asked a question, she’d claim she didn’t know anything. Some bitterness may have been building...” He frowned. “I was going to say because her parents were suddenly obsessed with their loss again, but that isn’t really what happened. The truth is, I doubt an hour has passed in the last twenty-three years that Karen and Kirk didn’t think about you. They’d quit talking about it, that’s all. Until I gave them hope.” He grimaced at his choice of words. “Sorry.”

      “I think I could hate that name.” Her voice was sharp. “It’s sappy. And, God, so wrong, considering what happened. And so wrong for me.” She pointed her thumb at herself. “The me I am.”

      “Who are you, Bailey Smith?” he asked softly.

      Her gaze clashed with his. “I’m not a nice person, in case you haven’t already figured that out. I don’t make close friends. I don’t have boyfriends.” Her warning was clear. “Don’t trust people.” Her tone curdled. “I am what he made me.”

      Speaking of bitterness.

      “That’s not true,” he said calmly, reaching for a roll, tearing it open and buttering it.

      Her chin jutted. “You don’t know.”

      “You enrolled in college. Did he have a single thing to do with making you the woman who’d do that?”

      “My major. There’s nothing subtle about that.”

      “No, I guess there isn’t. You’re trying to figure yourself out. Maybe him. But he wouldn’t have liked you doing either, would he?”

      She finally looked away. “No. But my interest is because of him.” She didn’t have to say how much she hated knowing that. “If it never happened, if I’d grown up here as sunny Hope Lawson, who knows? I’d have probably gone off to college at eighteen and majored in literature or biology or dance. But psychology?” She shook her head.

      “You’re right,” he agreed. “You’re a more complex person than you would have been. I won’t argue with that. Given what happened to you, I think it’s remarkable what you’ve become.”

      “And what’s that?” she asked, the edge present.

      “A smart, self-aware, poised woman who may claim she isn’t nice, but who was kind today to two people when she didn’t have to be.”

      “Of course I had to be,” she grumbled.

      He looked past her. “Dinner is coming,” he said quietly.

      The diner did decent American basics—burgers, steaks, fries, onion rings, roasted chicken. He’d been glad she didn’t order one of their salads, which he felt sure came mostly out of a bag. He could be wrong, but he didn’t see her as a waitress at Denny’s or anyplace like that. With her looks and air of class, she could make a lot bigger bucks at someplace upscale.

      Once their meals were in front of them, he asked about her job, thinking it might be a good idea to dial back the tension.

      Of course he’d never heard of the restaurant, but it sounded expensive. “Do you get free meals?”

      A surprised smile curved her mouth. His heart skipped a couple of beats.

      “Of course I do. One per shift. Saves me a lot on the groceries, plus their food is really good. And I love Italian.”

      “Me, too.” He glanced down at his steak. “Unfortunately, Stimson does not boast a fabulous Italian restaurant.”

      She chuckled. “Nothing wrong with a hamburger.” She took a big bite of hers.

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dined out with a woman who ate with gusto. And red meat and French fries, no less. Apparently she didn’t worry too much about her weight. Not that he saw any reason she should.

      She got him talking about the town and what it had to offer, seeming intrigued once Seth admitted he hadn’t grown up here.

      “City life isn’t for me. I like to hike and I enjoy white-water rafting. I run to stay in shape and would rather not have to pound the pavement or go to the gym.”

      “Do you ski?”

      “Alpine on occasion—lift tickets aren’t cheap. Otherwise Nordic. We don’t get a lot of snow at this elevation, but we don’t have to drive very far to find it.”

      She exercised at a gym. “Actually, the university, now. Saves me having to pay a membership. I do the elliptical, treadmill, swim laps. And most semesters I take a phys ed class. I like to try different things. Spring semester, it was African dance. Which turned out to be really good for the thighs,” she said ruefully.

      He laughed.

      Their conversation was starting to feel as if they were on a date. When she suddenly scowled at him, he wondered if she’d had the same thought and was fighting it.

      “What makes you think you know me?” she challenged. “Smart, self-aware, poised. Kind?” She said it as if the very idea was ludicrous.

      He swirled a fry in ketchup. “You denying any of that?”

      “Yes.”

      “Which part?”

      “I’m not kind. I’m...oh, I suppose I’m mostly a decent person. I mean, I don’t go out of my way to slap people down. But I don’t go out of my way to extend a helping hand, either.” She glared as if to say, How dare you put that label on me?

      Seth didn’t let himself smile. “We’ll see,” was all he said.

      Her eyes narrowed, but she abruptly shifted gears. “You said my... Karen was a teacher. Elementary or high school or what?”

      “Kindergarten.”

      Looking stricken, she breathed, “Oh.”

      “You were about to start first grade.”

      “How...awful.”

      “That’s safe to say.”

      He stayed quiet, letting her process what he guessed was a real hit: her first true understanding of what losing her had done to them, the couple she didn’t want to say were her parents.

      “And Eve? Do you know what she does?” She tilted her head. “Of course you do, since you had a relationship.”

      “Calling what we had a relationship is a stretch.” He tried to sound mild. Easier because he and Eve had never made it to bed. Thank God they hadn’t. He’d known she was willing and, at first, he’d fully intended to take her up on it. And why not?

      He had a sharp,