Deceived (Private Justice Book #3): A Novel (7 page)

The line clicked, and she took a steadying breath. Telling herself not to get her hopes up, she tapped in his number.

He answered on the first ring. “Sullivan.”

Her respiration ticked up. “This is Kate Marshall. Sorry for the after-hours call, but I just got out of a meeting and found your message. It sounded promising.”

“Promising might be a little too optimistic, but I do have a new lead.”

As he filled her in on the latest developments, Kate’s spirits rose—and even his final warning that they could still hit a dead end didn’t deflate them.

“So what’s next?”

“Surveillance. My plan is to watch the daycare center tomorrow during the morning drop-off period and hope I spot the boy from the mall security screen grab.”

“I thought you said the image was fuzzy?”

“It is. Those kinds of shots usually are. But it’s clear enough to get me in the ballpark, and I’ll take photos of any boys who look similar. We can sort through them later and see if we have a match.”

“Would it help if I went along? I might be able to rule some out immediately.” Even as she made the offer, Kate’s brow puckered. Where on earth had that come from?

Based on the silence on the other end of the line, Connor was trying to figure out the same thing.

Her cheeks warmed, and she lightened her tone in an attempt to smooth over the awkward moment. “Sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want is an amateur hanging around while you’re trying to do your work.”

“Actually, your offer has some merit.” He spoke slowly, as if he was mulling over the idea. “As our office manager reminded me, a lot of young boys are blond. Having someone along who saw the child in person could make the process more efficient. But it would be an early start. The daycare opens for drop-off at six. I plan to be in a discreet position nearby no later than five-forty-five and hang around until nine.”

“That’s not a problem. I’m an early riser, and I can come to the office late tomorrow. My first meeting isn’t until ten.”

“Then why don’t I pick you up at five-thirty in the parking lot at your office? When we’re finished, I can drop you off back there.”

“Sounds good.”

“Two pieces of advice. First, dress casual and cool. I can’t leave the engine and air conditioner running the whole time or the car will overheat. Second, don’t drink much before you leave your house. Once we’re in place, we’ll be in the car for the duration. We could miss the boy if we have to make an emergency bathroom run.”

“Got it.”

“Turn in early, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

When the phone went dead, Kate dropped it in her purse and stood. Connor was right. Since she’d have to be up by quarter to five, she needed to head home, fix a quick dinner, and go to bed with the sun.

But as she exited the New Start offices, she had a feeling sleep was going to be elusive. Because while Connor had accomplished more than she’d even dared hope when she’d sat in his office on Monday and poured out her bizarre story, they were reaching the end of the line. If this lead didn’t pan out, she’d be back where she’d been on Friday.

Wondering about the identity of the little blond boy who looked enough like Kevin to be her son.

T
his wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made.

As Connor maneuvered the Taurus under the Golden Arches in the lot next door to STL Academy, he slanted a quick glance at Kate. He’d told her to dress for the weather, but he hadn’t expected a tank top that revealed such a wide expanse of creamy skin, a skirt that exposed a long length of shapely leg, and a ponytail that highlighted her classic profile.

If there’d been a collar on his T-shirt, he’d have been tempted to run his finger underneath to loosen it.

So much for staying cool on his end—and the sun hadn’t even peeked above the dawn-tinted horizon yet.

Focus on the job instead of the
client, Sullivan.

Right.

He chose a parking spot that would give them both a view of the front door of the daycare center, positioning the car so he could lower his dark-tinted window and take quick shots of potential subjects. After he used the automatic controls to open the two backseat windows, Kate’s window, and the sunroof, he shut off the engine.

Despite the early hour, humid air flooded the car in seconds.

He sent her a rueful look. “Sorry. Doing surveillance in the
heat—or cold—is one of the less glamorous aspects of being a PI.”

“It’s not too bad yet.” She regarded his window. “You’re leaving that closed?”

“To keep out prying eyes. I’ll lower it partway to take pictures—after the camera’s in front of my face.”

“Seems very clandestine.”

“Careful.”

She conceded his point with a bob of her head, then motioned to the fast-food restaurant off to the side behind them. “At least this lot was conveniently located for our purposes.”

“Yeah. I scoped the area out on my way home last night, and believe me, this is better than some of the places I’ve had to hole up.” Far better. He reached back, grabbed two cases from the backseat, and handed her one. “Binoculars. Go ahead and adjust them to your eyes.”

“There are a few cars pulling into the lot already.” She gestured toward the daycare center as she opened the case.

“That’s why I wanted to get here early.” He removed his own binoculars from the case, set them on the console between their seats, and reached into the back again for his camera.

She fitted the binoculars to her eyes as he took the digital camera out of its case, twisted on the 100–300 mm zoom, and verified that the glare filter was in place. The last thing he wanted was a beam of sunlight bouncing off the glass in the lens. A careless sniper could lose his life that way—and a PI could lose the tactical advantage of covert surveillance. Once you were made, the job got a whole lot harder.

Not going to happen on his watch.

“These are really powerful.” Kate lowered the binoculars and inspected the camera. “And that’s an impressive piece of equipment.”

“Let’s hope we need it.” He set it beside him. “Here’s how
I’d like to work this. We’ll both watch the arrivals with our binoculars. If either of us has any suspicion a particular child might be the boy you saw, I’ll snap some shots. We can evaluate them later.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Then get set, because the rush is about to start.” He motioned toward the parking lot in front of the center, where cars were beginning to disgorge adults toting babies, toddlers, and young children.

Kate leaned forward, planted her right elbow on the dash, and angled sideways to aim the binoculars at the entrance. That posture was going to get old fast, and she’d end up with a crick in her neck, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He needed his window positioned for photography.

As silence fell in the car, Connor put his own binoculars to use and settled in for the duration of the rush period.

Ten minutes passed.

“Blond boy at seven o’clock.”

He felt Kate shift beside him as he spoke. “That’s not him.”

Several more minutes ticked by as the sun rose and the pink hue of the sky began to morph into blue.

“Another blond boy at eleven o’clock.” Kate’s tone was taut. “I’m waiting for him to move into a spot where I can see him better . . . he’s the right height, and . . . no. It’s not him.” Disappointment etched her voice. “Wrong hair color. And he’s heavier than the boy I saw.”

For the next hour and a half, as the sun continued to climb and sweat beaded on his forehead, Connor counted ten boys who could have been the youngster in the video grab. He would have taken photos of them all, except Kate was certain eight of the ten weren’t the boy she’d seen—and she was very skeptical about the other two.

As daycare traffic began to slow around seven-thirty, she set
the binoculars in her lap, rotated her neck, and brushed back some strands of hair that were clinging to her forehead.

“How are you holding up?” He lowered his own binoculars and sized her up. The faint shadows under her eyes, hidden earlier in the dim morning light, told him she hadn’t slept well last night. Or, more likely, hadn’t slept well since she’d spotted the boy on Friday. Faint parallel lines scored her brow. The hair at her temples was damp, and the skin above the scooped neck of her top was glistening. His attention lingered there a moment too long before he snapped his gaze up. Thank goodness she was still focused on the daycare center.

“I’m fine. I just wish we had more to show for our efforts.”

He fumbled for the lid of the cooler on the floor behind her seat, pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to her. “He could be one of the later arrivals, depending on his parents’ work schedules.”

Bottle in hand, she gave the water a wary look. “I thought you said not to drink.”

“I said not to drink too much. You need to stay hydrated. Just pace yourself. We only have another hour and a half.” He pulled a bottle of water out for himself, twisted off the cap, and took a long chug.

After a brief hesitation, she did the same.

“Better?”

“Much.” She recapped the lid and set the bottle in the cup holder between them. “Another arrival.” Indicating the daycare center, she picked up her binoculars and went back to work.

By eight-thirty, the traffic had slowed to a trickle, and she once again sank back and took another long swig of water, the subtle slump of her shoulders communicating her dejection more eloquently than words.

Connor had never believed in creating false hope—but while her pessimism might be justified in a few days, he didn’t want her to give up yet.

“You know, it’s possible we have the right place but the wrong day.”

Her head swiveled toward him. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe the blond boy you saw at the mall only attends three days a week. Or his parents might have kept him home today for some reason. I’ll download the photos I took as soon as I get back to the office and send them to you, but even if neither boy is the one you saw, I don’t think we should give this up after one try. Depending on your budget, I’d like to try again tomorrow and Monday.”

“Money isn’t an issue. As I said before, John had a large insurance policy, and my expenses are minimal.” A tiny flicker of hope brightened her eyes, tempered by a hefty dose of caution. “After getting such a solid lead, I’d like to believe he’ll still show up. But do you really think there’s a chance he will . . . or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

He met her gaze straight on. “Letting people down easy is part of my job. Wasting clients’ money isn’t. If I thought this was over, I’d tell you. Our chances do diminish with every day that passes, but I’d prefer not to write this off yet.”

She gave a slow nod. “I appreciate your candor . . . and your willingness to continue. But I’ve got early meetings both days.”

“Not a problem. I’ll just take a lot more pictures—and suffer through the heat alone.”

“It is getting steamy, isn’t it?” She plucked at the fabric of her tank top, which was now clinging to her trim midriff.

Steamy was a good word.

“Another car.” She lifted her binoculars again.

Forcing himself to look away, he did the same.

“It’s a little girl.” Kate sank back on the seat. “And there’s no one else in sight.”

He kept the binoculars pressed to his face, buying himself a few more moments to regain control. Strange. He’d often dealt
with beautiful women during his Secret Service career, and on occasion as a PI. Yet he’d never been tempted to cross the line between business and pleasure.

Until now.

The simple truth was, Kate Marshall intrigued him. She was a smart, determined, courageous woman with a generous heart. A survivor, with a gritty strength concealed beneath a deceptively fragile-looking exterior. From all indications, she’d also been a loving, loyal wife and a devoted mother who even now was fighting for her family despite enormous odds. She was the kind of woman who deserved to receive the same absolute commitment and priority she gave to the people and the responsibilities in her life.

And he could offer her those on the job.

He was also ready to offer them to the right woman on a personal level. Had been ready for quite a while, in fact—since Lisa had thrown him one of the biggest curves of his life and forced him to straighten out his own priorities.

Slowly he lowered the binoculars and turned to Kate.

She could be the right woman.

It was too soon to be thinking along those lines, though. He knew that. But one thing for sure—she was the first woman in five years who’d prompted him to even consider making the kind of commitment a serious relationship required.

When she looked over at him, he realized the silence between them had stretched too long.

“We’ll stick it out until nine, but it seems like most of the action is over.”

“Yeah.” She scanned the daycare center again, smothering a yawn. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was an early morning . . . and it sounds like you had a long day yesterday, if you were still at the office at six o’clock.”

She lifted one shoulder. “That’s par for the course for me. I expect you put in long hours too.”

“Not as long as in my previous job.”

She tilted her head. “May I ask how you happened to become a Secret Service agent? That’s an unusual occupation.”

“My older brother was a big influence.”

“Is he in law enforcement?”

“No. The Secret Service was always his goal, but he—” Connor swallowed. “He died when he was twenty. Leukemia.”

Sympathy flooded her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He gave a stiff shrug. “It was a long time ago.”

“But a hurt like that never goes away.” Her voice was soft and tinged by a kindred sadness.

“No.” Nor the repercussions.

Time to change the subject. Opening up to virtual strangers wasn’t part of his DNA.

Yet the words that came out were still about Joe. “He would have been a great agent. As far back as I can remember, he was always rescuing hurt animals and protecting other kids—including me—from bullies. He was strong, but he had a gentle spirit and a passion for justice.” The last word rasped, and he stopped.

After a few moments, Kate spoke again. “Did you have any other siblings?”

“No.”

“That must have made the loss especially hard on you and your parents.”

“Yeah.” He could have left it at that. Didn’t. “Too hard.”

She loosened the cap on her water bottle. “What do you mean?”

Man, this was getting way too personal.

But still he continued.

“They couldn’t handle the loss. They blamed each other for not noticing the symptoms soon enough, for making bad deci
sions about treatment, for choosing the wrong doctors. They ended up divorcing when I was sixteen, a year after Joe died. The whole thing was very bitter. I divided my time between the two of them until I went away to college, but things were never the same.”

“And then you did what your brother had planned to do—you became a Secret Service agent.” Her words were soft, her expression pensive.

He shook his head. “I wasn’t living his dream, if that’s what you’re thinking. Once he planted the idea in my mind, it became my goal too.”

“I didn’t mean to imply it was vicarious. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people or sharing dreams.” She lifted her hand, as if she intended to touch his arm, then drew it back and fiddled with the cap on the bottle instead. “So was being a Secret Service agent exciting?”

“More like high-stress and all-consuming. The glamor and excitement are vastly overrated.”

“How long did you stay?”

“Nine years.”

“I would guess that’s a career job for most people.” She studied him. “Did you enjoy it?”

Odd. No one had ever asked him that before. People always assumed he had. Who wouldn’t enjoy such an elite, high-profile job? Yet Kate had picked up some nuance others had missed—proving once again she was sharp.

He transferred his gaze back to the daycare center as he formulated a response. “It had its moments.”

“But not enough of them, or you’d still be there.”

He glanced back at her. “Putting your master’s in psychology to work?”

She arched an eyebrow. “You investigated my background?”

“Standard practice with new clients. We want to make sure
our services aren’t being used for illegal purposes. You came out squeaky clean, by the way.”

“Nice to know. But you didn’t really answer my question.”

He added tenacious to her list of attributes as he framed his reply, choosing his words with care. “I liked the job—a lot. The first six years, I worked in field offices on a variety of assignments, from global credit card fraud to busting counterfeiting rings in Colombia and Peru. The last three years, I was on the vice president’s protective detail.”

“Impressive.”

“Also very demanding. The 24/7 schedule and constant, often spur-of-the-moment travel left no time for anything else.” He surveyed the daycare center again. All quiet. “One day I had an epiphany of sorts and decided to make some changes in my life—and in my priorities. Cal and Dev were ready to add a third partner . . . and the rest is history. Now why don’t you finish that water before you dehydrate?”

Picking up his own bottle, he hoped she’d get the hint and back off. He’d already told her more in five minutes than he told most people in five years.