“Whoa.” The walls had been converted to murder boards. Articles, photographs, dates had been attached, connected with arrows and lines, and adorned with notes.
Emily pointed to one side. “It’s a timeline of every event from the month before the hit-and-run until one month after. On the map, I’ve recorded every infant kidnapping in North America.”
Mitch rounded the dining room table and stepped up to the dozens of photographs tacked across the country. “You have
found
written on all of them. None of these kids are still missing.”
“Except Joshua.”
“And the small
d
in the corner of the photo?”
“Deceased,” she whispered.
Her words had gone so soft he could barely hear her. She probably hadn’t been able to write the word. Either way, the letter became a stark reminder of the worst that could happen.
He studied the third side of the room. Tips and newspaper clippings of missing children papered from ceiling to floor. On the final wall, a photo of Sister Kate’s refuge. She’d added two large questions.
How many babies? Adoption?
No wonder what he’d seen of the rest of the house looked untouched. She spent all her time in this room, searching for clues to her son’s whereabouts. He couldn’t get over the detail. He disliked the tediousness of investigation, and this amazing woman had taught herself most of the techniques they’d covered in Mitch’s training at the police academy. She impressed him more and more with each passing moment.
“You’ve done a lot of work.”
“Not much else to do.” She sat in one of the hard cherry chairs, the only one that wasn’t perfectly aligned around the table.
“You have any help?”
“No one else seems inclined. Including your boss.”
Mitch didn’t blame her for the accusation in her tone. “What about your friends, family?”
“My brother’s stationed overseas. And friends… It’s been a while since I had any of those.”
Mitch let his surprise show. “You seem like a person people would latch onto—for movies, hiking, dinner.”
“I make most of my old friends…uncomfortable.”
She brought a self-conscious hand to her throat. Mitch had become accustomed to her husky voice, in fact he liked it, but it was another reminder. “Because of your son.”
“And this room. They said I was obsessed…the few who came over.” She clasped a locket resting on the outside of her turtleneck. “I remind them that nightmares can happen. Do happen.”
“You won’t give up until you find him.”
“Never. No matter what the Wentworths say or do.”
Mitch eyed a high chair pushed into the corner, a bib draped over the back. A small teddy bear with one blue eye and one brown eye sat in the seat right next to an empty wooden cradle. Unused for the past year. She faced the memory every day. This woman didn’t know where her child was. She didn’t know who took him. If she’d had anything to do with her husband’s death, she would know where to start.
If she were playing him, if this were an elaborate hoax, she deserved an Oscar. His job was to prove one theory or the other.
Placing the box with the few flimsy files on the floor, he sat beside her and stretched out his leg. “Let’s ignore the records for now and start from the beginning. What do you remember about that day?”
Emily’s expression fell, her vulnerability embedded in her eyes. Then she straightened her shoulders with an inner strength he recognized even after only a few conversations. While part of him wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, he couldn’t. He’d already crossed a line. He liked her. He believed her. He had to keep his distance. No matter how tempting he found her.
“I try to remember the details of that night a dozen times a day,” she said. “I don’t know exactly what happened. Everything seemed fine. We’d barely left the house on the way to Eric’s parents’. The road was slick, but nothing out of the ordinary. I remember the lights coming at us, and flashes, the sound of Joshua’s cry—” her husky voice caught “—a hooded figure, but not much else.”
She rubbed her eyes with one hand and clutched at her throat with the other. “By the time I regained consciousness, a week had passed. Eric was dead. His family had held the funeral, and they blamed me for his death and Joshua’s disappearance. More than that, they thought I had something to do with the crash.” She reached out a hand to Mitch. “I know they believe I cut myself with the glass, but I would never… You have to believe me.”
“Think, Emily,” he said. “We know from the paint scrapes that you and Eric were run off the road. The question is why. They took your baby. Was your son the target? Had you been threatened?”
She shook her head firmly. “Nothing like that. Look at the map. Infants aren’t taken very often, not by strangers. And most of the time they’re found within two weeks. There’s not a slew of stolen babies in any one geographical area. Not anywhere in the country. And certainly not here.”
Mitch rose and turned to the map. He ran his finger from pin to pin. “I know that. I don’t necessarily think your son was taken as part of a baby ring. This was personal. About your family.” He faced her. “You and your husband took out a life-insurance policy just before he died. Why?”
Emily stilled, her entire body tense with suspicion. “Wait a minute. How do you know about the insurance? And the paint? I just asked for your help today.”
Oh, boy. His first big slip. Well, one thing SWAT had taught him was to think on his feet. “Tanner mentioned a few things, but I have to admit, after last night, I looked into your case. I didn’t think the attempted hit-and-run was an accident. I still don’t.”
How long could he mix truth with lies and still remain credible? The question churned in Mitch’s gut.
“Ghost could’ve called someone. He threatened me. Did you ask him?”
Mitch let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve got some bad news about Ghost. He’s no longer in custody.”
“You let him go?” She rose from her seat, her eyes sparking with fury. “How could he make bail? He’ll disappear.” She crossed to Mitch, hands planted on her hips, toe-to-toe with him.
He hated to admit the truth. “That’s not quite what happened. He escaped. Before we could get prints or mug shots.”
“I
have
to talk to him.” Emily paced around the room. “He’s all I’ve got.”
“You can’t, Emily. That’s one reason Tanner gave me your case. I believe, and he agrees, that you’re in danger. He knew, given your history with the police department, you wouldn’t be receptive to protection.”
“He was right about that.” Emily glared at him. “Your boss should’ve told me the second I asked to see Ghost. He lied to me. And so did you.”
“We didn’t tell you everything,” Mitch acknowledged.
“How am I supposed to trust you? I thought you were on my side. That you believed me.”
“I do believe you. I don’t think you know where your son is, but Ghost threatened you, and I’m sure he’ll come after you. You need my help.”
Emily let out a slow breath and met his gaze. “If we’re going to work together, you can’t lie to me, Mitch. Or keep secrets. I can’t do that again.” She bit her lip and turned away.
“Wait a minute.” Mitch touched her shoulder. “What do you mean
again?
”
She whirled around and raised her chin in challenge. “It doesn’t matter. You want to know about the money. Eric and I bought the policy because of the baby. Joshua was only a month old, but Eric planned for the future, especially since he and his family…weren’t communicating.”
Mitch didn’t like the frozen expression on Emily’s face. He’d really blown it. “Your husband didn’t get along with his parents?”
“They’d been estranged for a while. Ever since, well, ever since we got engaged. I wasn’t quite the daughter-in-law they had in mind. Not blue-blooded enough, if you get my meaning. They made no secret of it, so Eric left the family business. He gave up everything for me.”
“Their loss,” Mitch said before he could help himself.
Emily looked at him, her expression full of sadness. “It’s easier to think I arranged this entire thing than acknowledge someone could have stolen Joshua and he’s still out there.”
“You believe he’s alive.”
“I have to.” She lightly touched the photo of her son pinned to the wall, her eyes glistening. “Do you understand that?”
“More than some.” He turned her to him and, with a gentle tug, pulled her closer. “I don’t have kids, but I have a goddaughter. Her mother took Haley out of the country and wasn’t planning on returning her to her father. I helped find her and bring her home.”
“Is she…okay?”
“Oh, she’s more than back to her old self.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the shenanigans of his favorite and only goddaughter. “She’ll turn six soon and has her daddy wrapped around her little finger.”
“Maybe that will be me someday.” A shuddering sigh escaped from Emily.
Haley’s story had done more than sympathizing with Emily could ever do. The ice in her eyes had softened.
“I’ll do my best to help you find your son,” he said truthfully. “I promise that.”
Emily reached out and laid her hand over his heart. “I believe you.”
The utter faith in her words humbled him. Unable to resist, he cupped her cheek, and she tilted her head into his hand as if searching for warmth, for comfort, for something to hold on to. His heart slammed against his chest. His gaze lowered to her lips. Her tongue moistened them, and her eyes deepened to a rich cobalt. The awareness between them surged. Mitch knew it was wrong, but he wanted to comfort her. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.
He leaned in and let his hand roam down her cheek to the edge of her turtleneck. Her pulse jumped beneath his fingertips. He stroked her palm with soft, tender caresses. She shivered, and her body moved in closer. The heat emanating from her made Mitch long to feel her softness pressed against his chest.
His fingertips drifted up her arms. Very gently he brought her to him. With a soft groan he lowered his head slightly. Her lips parted, her eyes drifted closed.
She sucked in a quick breath. “No. I can’t.”
He clasped her hands in his and studied their entwined fingers. If only he’d met Emily at another time, another place. When he could let himself get lost in her arms. She might’ve been the woman he could’ve trusted to fall asleep with and never worry about betrayal. “I understand.” With regret—and relief—he eased away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Everything’s just confusing right now.”
Mitch stood and turned away, willing his body to calm down. “Let’s get back to work.” He lifted the lid off the cardboard box of evidence. The photo on top was of a smiling blond-haired man and a radiant Emily on their wedding day. No sadness in her eyes, only joy.
He wanted Emily, but he shouldn’t get involved. He couldn’t let himself care too much. Not when everything he said was a lie. When she found out why he was really here, helping her, but spying on her at the same time, she’d never forgive him. God knew he’d never forgive himself.
“Let’s go through the evidence box and compare it to your data,” Mitch said to distract his traitorous body. He placed the box on the table. “Maybe something in these interviews will jog your memory.”
Emily peered inside, and her hand paused over the wedding photo. “We were happy. Everything was perfect.”
Or was it? Those last few weeks, Eric had pulled away. He’d said it was work and soon everything would be fine. He’d kept his secrets, and then she’d lost him.
His laughing eyes captured her. What would he think of her now? A year after his death, letting herself get taken in by the first cop who’d shown her any sympathy. She’d almost let Mitch kiss her, but he wasn’t being her friend. Not really. How long would he help? Until Tanner pulled him into a more important case?
Her cell rang, and she answered.
“I need to see you,” Perry said. The PI’s voice was quiet. “I have a lead on your son. It’s big, Mrs. Wentworth.
Really
big.”
“The police department—”
“No. No cops. Can’t trust anyone. Especially not the law. I don’t know who’s looking the other way there, but someone is.”
“You’re saying someone at the police department is involved?”
Mitch’s head snapped up. She backed away, and he nearly dove for her. He pried the phone from her and, before she could protest, pressed the speakerphone button.
Emily shook her head vehemently and tried to grab the device.
“Do you trust me?” Mitch mouthed.
Did she trust him? His intense gaze made her insides quiver. His every action made her believe he wanted justice. The way things were going right now, she had to take a chance. She nodded, and he handed her the phone.
“You there, Mrs. Wentworth?”
“Sorry, Perry. Um…where do you want to meet?”
“I’m on my way back to Denver. Be at the main library when it opens in the morning.”
Mitch scribbled a note on a piece of paper and passed it to her.