Cry in the Night (18 page)
The sheriff ’s burly figure stepped into view behind Kade. He carried his hat in his hands. “Evening, Bree.”
She stood with her fingers tightening around Olivia. “Is there news?”
He nodded. “Another missing baby report filed in Marquette. Chuck Loonsfoot and his girlfriend, Mandy Walker.”
Bree glanced at the sleeping child in her arms. “Olivia isn’t Native American. Besides, I think she is Ellie Bristol’s baby.”
“The mother is Caucasian. We have to check it out. I want to take the baby to the couple and see if they identify her.”
Bree’s face went hot, then cold. “I’ll go with you.”
“Bree, I’m not sure that’s wise,” Kade said.
“I have to go, Kade!” Bree swallowed hard. “If-if we have to give her up, I’ll want to say good-bye.”
“We’ll all go then,” Kade said. “Davy will want to give her a last kiss.”
Did he even care they might lose Olivia? Bree swallowed down her tears and put a few extra diapers in Olivia’s bag.
Davy’s eyes grew round. “Uncle Mason, you mean you found Olivia’s mommy?”
Mason touched his nephew’s red hair. “I don’t know, Davy. Maybe. Maybe not. We can only go check it out.”
The boy blinked his eyes fiercely but smiled through his watery eyes. “Okay. I’ll get my coat. And her teddy bear.”
The lump forming in Bree’s throat became a boulder. She laid Olivia in her carrier and tucked the cover over it, then slipped on her coat. Kade grabbed the diaper bag, and they all went out to Mason’s SUV. Even Samson tagged along. Mason let the dog into the back hatch. Kade took the baby from Bree and secured Olivia’s car seat carrier.
All the way to the reservation, Bree alternated between the unselfish hope that Olivia’s parents would be found and a plea to God that she and Kade be allowed the keep the baby. When Mason’s SUV rolled along the roads to Marquette and stopped at a block building, she took a deep, calming breath. Whatever happened next was what God knew was best. Hard as it was, she needed to keep that truth in mind.
She freed Olivia’s carrier and climbed out of the backseat with the baby. Davy slid out after her and took her other hand. She squeezed his fingers. “We’ll be all right, no matter what.”
“I know,” he said. “She needs her mom. Just like I did.”
She knew he loved the baby as much as she did. How could a child show the way to such an unselfish path?
“Want me to carry her?” Kade asked, joining them on the sidewalk.
“No, I’ve got her.” She wasn’t taking in the diaper bag unless they had to. Her pulse hammered as Mason led them into the police headquarters. The parents were supposed to be here waiting.
As soon as they entered with the baby carrier, a man and woman shot to their feet and rushed toward them. Chuck and Mandy.
“I want my baby,” the woman cried out. In her midtwenties, she was beautiful with big blue eyes. Her straight blonde hair fell nearly to her waist.
Her boyfriend touched her arm. “We don’t know if this is our baby,” he reminded her. About Mandy’s age, his coloring was as dark as hers was fair.
Bree exchanged a glance with Kade and Mason. It was possible the woman was Olivia’s mother. Bree peeled back the cover to expose Olivia’s face. “Is this your daughter?” she asked.
The bright hope in the couple’s faces drained away. Mandy closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Our Ruth has black hair that sticks up like a woodpecker’s feathers. Her cheeks are fat and round.” She sank back onto the bench by the door and buried her face in her hands.
Her sobs broke Bree’s heart. She handed the carrier to Kade and went to Mandy. “Is there anything I can do?” she said, sitting beside the stricken mother.
The woman raised her head. “No.” Her gaze locked with Bree’s. “Who would do this—steal a baby?”
“What happened to your baby girl?” Bree asked.
“I carried her outside with me to the backyard to feed the chickens. I put the carrier down on the porch a minute to get the feed, and when I turned back around—she was gone.” Her voice broke, and tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry.” Who would have taken an infant when the mother’s back was turned? “Do you have any idea who might have taken her?”
Mandy’s eyes widened. “Chuck says it was a windigo,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the dark window. “But they’re not real, are they? He’s so superstitious.”
Under normal circumstances, Bree would have laughed, but the fright in the woman’s eyes made the chuckle die in Bree’s throat. “Why does he say that?” she asked.
“I-I heard a scream. Strange and terrifying. It made me shudder and run to get Ruth. That’s when I found out she was gone.” Mandy clasped herself. “I hope I never hear that sound again.” She rose and went to Chuck, who stood talking to the men. When she touched his arm, he nodded to them, and the two of them went out into the cold.
Bree joined the men where they stood talking to the policeman. “Did you hear what she said?” she asked. Kade shook his head. “She said Loonsfoot thought her baby had been taken by a windigo. She heard a weird scream.”
The policeman nodded. “I have had several of these reports. And I heard a scream myself, just last week. It was enough to make me run for the house.”
“What did it sound like?” Kade asked.
“A wild, lonely sound. Full of rage and hate,” the man said. “I gotta admit, I was looking over my shoulder.”
Kade glanced out the window into the dark yard. “Where did you hear it?”
“From the woods behind my house. Around midnight. I was on the porch smoking.”
“You said you’d had other reports,” Mason said.
“Reports of the screaming.”
Bree knew her husband—he was on the trail to discovering what animal would make that sound. She didn’t believe in the windigo, but the longer the man talked, the more uneasy she grew.
Kade shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Davy sidled closer to him, and Kade took out his right hand and put it on the boy’s head. “Any tracks?”
“There was nothing I could determine.”
“I’d like to see,” Kade muttered.
The officer shrugged. “Nothing to see, but you’re welcome to look.” He gave Kade the address to his house.
Olivia began to cry, and Bree glanced at her watch. Feeding time. A good distraction from the fear that had begun to creep up her neck.
HER FIRST PAYCHECK. WEDNESDAY MORNING, LAURI CLUTCHED the envelope in her hand and turned on her computer. Only for a few days’ pay, but the money held the promise of a new life for her and Wes. She jiggled her mouse and checked her e-mail. Nothing. The day’s work consisted of working on quarterly reports for several clients so Mrs. Saunders could pay the taxes.
She bent to her task and several hours passed before she knew it. Rubbing the ache in her neck, she decided a cup of coffee would give her a boost. Starting to the door, she glimpsed a man stride past. It was Mrs. Saunders’s husband. She faltered at his grim expression.
Her phone rang, and she stepped back to grab it. Mrs. Saunders demanded her presence. Now. Maybe Lauri would get to hear what Mr. Saunders had to say. Aware she shouldn’t be so nosy, she rushed down to her boss’s office with her notepad. Raised voices echoed into the hallway, and she paused, uncertain about entering Mrs. Saunders’s office.
“I’m doing all I can,” Mr. Saunders said.
“It’s not enough!” Mrs. Saunders’s voice vibrated with anger. “Do what they want, Mike. You have no choice.”
“I hate giving in to blackmail.”
Mrs. Saunders’s voice softened. “We already gave them the money. Just withdraw the mine and it will be over. I want it to be over.”
Blackmail? Was that what Lauri had taken in the briefcase? A payoff? She wondered why the Saunderses would be blackmailed and whether she should report what she’d heard. But really, it was no business of hers. And she might lose her job.
If she got a chance, she’d talk to Kade about it.
The cold wind blew off a frozen Lake Superior, and the sun tried to shine through the cloud cover. Quinn stood on the promontory behind the lighthouse and listened to the horn out in the bay. He adjusted the wig but took off the sunglasses. No one would see him today.
He wasn’t here to moon over the past and what might have been. He’d made his choice, and now he had everything he wanted. Everything except his son, and he meant to remedy that.
His cell phone rang, and he saw it was Jenna. “Hey, everything okay?”
“I just left the jail. Victor still isn’t talking. They’re going to convict him, Quinn, I just know it. What can I do?”
“Have you talked to his lawyer?”
Her laugh was bitter. “The kid is fresh out of law school.”
“Has Victor said anything at all?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice despondent. “He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t react. I can’t even tell if he knows I’m in the room. And he’s still doing those endless puzzles. It’s driving me crazy.”
The wind was freezing his butt off, and he was ready to end the call. Her whining didn’t do anyone any good. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, I guess.” She sighed. “Where are you?”
“At the lighthouse. I’m just here figuring out how best to pull it off.” And how to get the boy, but he didn’t mention that part. He wanted to get inside and get this reconnaissance over with before Bree came back. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
“How long do I have to stay with Bree? I’m getting tired of lying to her. She’s a nice lady.”
“Not much longer. I’m guessing he’ll cave in the next two days. Then we can grab the baby and go.” She’d have to know about his intentions to take Davy sooner or later, but not yet.
“Do you have a heart at all, Quinn?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Where’d that come from? I’m trying to help you.”
The click on the other end told him she’d hung up. He rolled his eyes. Women. He’d never figure them out. Jenna’s moods changed faster than Lake Superior’s weather.
The key in his pocket used to fit the door, and if he knew Bree, it still did. She would have seen no reason to change it. In seconds it was in his hand, and he was standing at the back door. His own back door. The lock accepted the key and turned easily, and he stepped into the kitchen.
Nostalgia caught him unawares. He’d walked away from his old life years ago. He moved to the sink and touched the faucet handles. The installation of these had been tricky, and he’d had to do it twice before he’d gotten them turning the right direction.
His gaze swept the refrigerator. Did she still drink root beer? He pulled the handle and looked. Six cans of Dad’s Root Beer were on the bottom shelf. A smile tugged at his lips, but he couldn’t afford to become sentimental. Leaving the kitchen, he found his way into the living room. A photo album was on the bookcase. He flipped it open. A picture of him with Davy and Samson was on the first page. It had been taken just before the plane crash.
Quinn stared into the face of the boy he’d thought never to see again. Davy had been the most important thing in his life. Quinn looked forward to getting to know his boy again.
Upstairs, he told himself. The door to the bedroom he’d shared with Bree stood open. Now another man’s shoes were in the closet. Another man’s toothbrush sat next to hers in the holder on the bathroom counter. The indentation on the pillow belonged to another guy. Matthews held her at night.
It was just as well. She was much too unsophisticated for the life he led now.
His gaze focused on the bassinet. Problem here. The baby must sleep in their room. It might make snatching her a challenge. He backed out the door and went to his son’s room. Stepping to the window, he looked down onto the roof over the kitchen. It would be an easy matter to climb the roof and come in this window. Snatch Davy in the middle of the night.
He hurried down the steps, but stopped when he’d nearly reached the bottom. A woman stood in the living room. Though her back was to him, he’d know that stylish cut anywhere, though it had grayed more since he saw it last. He must have made an involuntary sound, because she whirled to face him.
“I came to borrow . . .” The words died on her lips as their gazes locked. The pink color in her cheeks faded and left her looking old and sallow. She slammed her eyes shut, holding them closed for a minute. “Dear Jesus,” she whispered. “Now I am seeing ghosts.”
Quinn should have run the moment she shut her eyes, but he found himself frozen in place. “
Aiti
.” The Finnish word for
mother
came out croaked and faint, but she must have heard it because her eyes flew open.
Her gaze roamed his face, his form. “Wh-who are you?”
Nothing could have made him lie with her blue eyes on him. “It’s me. Rob.” The unfamiliar name rolled off his tongue much too easily. He hadn’t been Rob Nicholls in an eternity. But Anu Nicholls had ingrained certain morals in him. And not lying to his mother was one of them.
What dab of color remaining in her cheeks left her. Her eyes glazed over, and she swayed.
He leaped to catch her before she could crash to the floor. She was as light as a child in his arms. He carried her to the sofa and laid her on it. Water. He needed a cold cloth. Rushing to the kitchen, he found the dishtowels where Bree had always kept them. The cold water running over it revived him as well. If he were smart, he’d take this opportunity to run.