Free L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent by LINDA STYLE Page B

childhood would have been like without his father.
    “It’s been four years,” Jillian went on, “and Chloe was young enough that, if it weren’t for the pictures and stories I’ve told her, I don’t think she’d even remember him. It’s like there’s this huge hole in our lives.”
    Four years later and she still loved the guy. He heard it in her voice, as well as her words. If she knew what her husband was capable of, she wouldn’t be thinking that way. But she didn’t know. Or maybe she did and didn’t care, because he’d filled her needs. Something he’d obviously not done for Kate, because if he had, she wouldn’t have looked elsewhere.
    But why was he dwelling on Jillian Sullivan and whatever she felt about her husband? So what if she still loved him?
    Her being here now offered him the opportunity to do a little fishing, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. If he got her to talk, she might tell him something important. Any tidbit of information might be the one piece to crack the case wide open.
    “I know the feeling,” he said. “Even though there were six of us, my dad had this amazing way of focusing on each kid. I remember feeling like I was the only person in the world who mattered when he was talking to me. He was always incredibly interested in everything I had to say. He was just the greatest dad. I wish I’d had the opportunity to tell him that before he died.” Adam paused and smiled ironically. “He used to say, ‘Wishes have no substance. It’s what you do that counts.’”
    “I’m sorry. When did he die?”
    “Last year. But my mom’s going strong. She loves being a grandmother—I think it’s her calling.”
    “Your parents…your family sounds terrific. If Rob hadn’t died, well…” She breathed a sigh. “He was on the road a lot, but he was home enough to still be a wonderful father to Chloe.”
    Adam drummed his fingers on the armrest. Every time he heard her say how fantastic this guy was, his blood did a slow simmer.
    “Does the rest of your family live in L.A.?” she asked.
    “Nope. Most still live in Kentucky where I grew up. In or around Henderson.”
    “Kentucky? I’m surprised. You don’t have a Southern accent.”
    “I’ve been gone awhile.” He smiled. “Henderson is in the northern area, not too far from the border between Indiana and Kentucky. Some think more Midwest than Southern, anyway. What about your family?”
    She hesitated, thoughtful, then said, “My mom died when I was eleven. I went to live with my dad, but I didn’t know him before that—he abandoned my mother when I was still a baby. He was a small-town cop and we…didn’t get along very well, to say the least, and…” She paused. Took a breath. “I left when I was fifteen.”
    “Where’d you go? To live with another relative?”
    “No. I went to L.A. by myself.”
    “You ran away?” He drew back, officially stunned. He saw runaways all the time, saw the wasted lives, the horrors of living on the street. Looking at Jillian, he couldn’t imagine her in that environment. He couldn’t imagine his own sisters at that age trying to manage on their own in a strange city…with all the slimebag pervert hustlers just waiting for the most vulnerable. The younger the better.
    She frowned. “I never really thought of it as running away, but yes, I guess that’s what I did.”
    “And your dad, being a cop, called out the troops?”
    She shook her head and gave a wry laugh. “No, like I said, we didn’t get along. I’m sure he was relieved I’d gone. From then on, I was on my own and learned quickly how to take care of myself. I never saw him again until his funeral.” She looked away. “That was seven years ago.”
    A knot grew in Adam’s chest. No kid should have to be on her own at fifteen. Especially not in L.A., where street kids were easy prey. He looked at Jillian with new eyes. That history would explain her involvement with a scumbag like