Skye's Trail by Jory Strong Page A

cooperation from Amy’s mother.”
     
    “Were Amy and her mother close?”
     
    “I assume so, but I can’t answer that question definitively. I was sixteen when Amy was born and already away at school most of the time.”
     
    “I’ll probably need to talk to her mother.”
     
    Skip nodded to Martin. The ever-efficient aide pulled a piece of paper bearing a name, address and phone number out of the folder and handed it to Skye. “Please remember that what’s been said here is in confidence. The senator’s stepmother is not entitled to know anything about the investigation, including the proposed step of placing Amy in a rehab should she be located.”
     
    Both men were watching her closely again. Without inflection, Skye said, “I’ll remember that.”
     
    Martin pulled one final item out of the folder before closing it, signaling that Skye was now in possession of all the information they were prepared to give her. “Here’s the senator’s card. His private number is on the back. My private number is also listed there. Contact us immediately if you find her alive. Again, we can’t stress how sensitive this matter is.”
     
    Skye accepted the card without comment.
     
    * * * * *
     
    The police station was swarming with cops and criminals. Skye’s talk with Detective Caldwell was brief and to the point, done at her cubicle with chilly efficiency.
     
    “Wait here while your statement’s printing,” Caldwell said as she rose from her chair and left. Rico wandered around the corner while she was gone.
     
    He’d showered since he left Skye’s apartment, just as she’d showered, but she could still smell herself on him, could smell him on her. It filled her with primitive satisfaction.
     
    “Cia didn’t tell me you’d called,” he said as he stepped into the cubicle. His eyes went dark as they traveled over her body and lingered on her pebble-hard nipples.
     
    The bullpen around them suddenly seemed quieter. Skye said, “I didn’t call.”
     
    “Where’s Cia?” he asked.
     
    “Waiting for my statement to be printed.” Her voice was unintentionally husky. Inviting.
     
    Rico’s face tightened. His pants stretched over his growing erection. Skye’s clit responded, throbbing as it stood at attention. She couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers along the front of her jeans.
     
    “Fuck!” Rico said. It came out a strangled plea.
     
    Caldwell returned. When she saw them together her lips disappeared in a disapproving frown. Rico stiffened and his cop-mask fell back into place though his face remained slightly flushed.
     
    “Here’s your statement,” Caldwell said as she thrust a small handful of papers into Skye’s hand.
     
    Skye read the statement and signed it then dropped it to Caldwell’s desk.
     
    A uniformed officer stepped into view. Jon and Karen Armstrong trailed behind him. Callie clung to her mother with her head buried in the curve of Karen’s neck.
     
    “Detective Santana,” the officer said. “The Armstrongs wanted to speak with you before they left.”
     
    Karen’s eyes teared up when she spotted Skye. “I never thanked you,” she said and surprised Skye by wrapping her in a hug. Callie whimpered, but didn’t respond otherwise.
     
    “How’s she doing?” Skye asked when the embrace ended.
     
    Callie’s mother shook her head wordlessly. Jon answered, “We’re leaving for home in a couple of hours. The psychiatrist we’ve consulted thinks that once we get her back in familiar surroundings she’ll come out of this withdrawal.”
     
    Karen murmured softly, “Callie, do you remember Skye? She found you in the woods.” The small girl’s only response was to tighten her grip on her mother.
     
    Jon rubbed a hand over his face in emotional exhaustion. “We might as well go to the airport and wait for our flight.” He smiled at Skye. “Thank you. It seems so inadequate, but thank you.”
     
    Skye studied the family. Sorrow moved through