Lullabies and Lies (5 page)

Lillian answered on the first ring.

“Lil! Thank God! Are you all right?”

“Of course, darling. Why? Has something happened?”

Sunny took deep, calming breaths. “No. It’s nothing. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

The impatient driver leaned on the horn again.

She put the car in gear, her throat closing with emotion. Her baby was still alive.

But she couldn’t resist cutting her eyes back to the paper lying on the passenger seat. Two words stood out like beacons.

For now.

BY THE TIME Griff returned to the interrogation room, Sunny Loveless had disappeared.

Looking out the window, he’d seen her plunk a piece of paper out from under her windshield wipers. A quick scan of the parking lot told him a lot of other vehicles also had pieces of paper struck on their windshields, too, but his gut told him he’d just watched Sunny Loveless pick up a second message from the kidnapper.

Carver walked in.

“Where’s Ms. Loveless?” he asked.

Griff pointed out the window and voiced his suspicion about the note.

“But there’s notes on all those cars.”

“Yeah. I know.” He turned toward the door. “This might be the break we need. Get CSU down there, now, and have men check the side streets and talk to possible witnesses.”

“I’ll get someone to stop Ms. Loveless and take that note into evidence.”

“No. Not yet. Send an unmarked car to make sure no one follows her, and see that she gets home safely. Tell them to stay invisible.”

He turned his attention back to Sunny. As he watched, she paused with her foot on the brake, and glanced out her open car window and up toward the second floor. From where he stood he could make out her tortured face and bowed shoulders. Her jerky movements telegraphed her pain.

She was wondering if he’d seen her take the note.

He considered sprinting downstairs to her car and stopping her. With very little effort, he could force her to give him the note.

But what if whoever had left it was watching her? The last thing Griff wanted to do was put her or her baby in more danger. So he decided to wait until he figured out just what she was hiding. He’d visit her at her home later, after he’d had a chance to review the specific case files that had been taken in the break-in.

This kidnapping was a puzzle. Ms. Loveless didn’t have the kind of money that attracted kidnappers. Her adopted daughter’s mother, Brittany, was a high school
senior. The father was a construction worker who was subsequently imprisoned for statutory rape. He’d been released two months earlier, and had tried to contact Brittany, but her mother had called the police. Carver was checking on his whereabouts now.

In fact, Carver had detectives following up on all of Loveless Inc.’s cases, most of which had turned out just as advertised—with happy endings. Carver himself was checking out the three vaguely threatening phone calls Loveless Inc.’s published number had received since the break-in.

So if the kidnappers didn’t want money, or revenge, what did they want? If Griff wasn’t so certain Sunny had been contacted, he’d think the baby had been stolen by one of the numerous emotionally disturbed women who snatch a baby to keep for their own.

After she’d pulled out of the parking lot, he bounded out of the room and made quick work of the service stairs. When he burst through the fire door and out into the parking lot, he stepped over to a nearby car and grabbed the note stuck beneath its windshield wiper. He looked at it.

The paper was blank.

Gravel crunched as Carver walked up beside him.

“I’ll be a son of a gun.” Carver’s deep voice boomed. “There’s nothing on it. Not one word.”

Griff crushed the paper in his fist as he looked around at the other cars.

“I’ve got CSU coming. So you were right. The kidnapper was in our parking lot, right under our noses.”

Griff flipped the paper over. Nothing on the other side, either. “Somebody was.”

“What do you think they want? Ransom?”

“This doesn’t feel like a kidnapping for ransom. I’m afraid that in one of her hearts-and-flowers investigations, Ms. Loveless uncovered something damaging about someone. Something they’re desperate to keep hidden.”

“Well, if that’s so, why not go after her directly? Why steal her baby? Taking care of a baby ain’t easy.”

Griff nodded. “It puts the abductors in a dangerous position, too. Few things are more noticeable than an infant.”

Nauseating fear suddenly filled him. They could keep Sunny hanging on for a long time by telling her the child was safe.

As if reading his mind, Carver said, “If they took the baby just to keep Ms. Loveless quiet about something…”

Griff nodded grimly. “There’s no guarantee the child survived the first night. Emily may already be dead.”

“WHAT’S THE MATTER?” Lillian jumped to her feet behind Loveless Inc.’s reception desk the moment Sunny opened the front door. With a huge effort, Sunny kept her face composed, acutely conscious of the police officer who was trying to blend with the shadows on the west side of the foyer, just a few feet from where they stood.

“Nothing.” Sunny swallowed. “How are the files coming?”

Lillian’s sharp brown eyes assessed her. “I’m about half finished reviewing our backup disks, trying to recreate the files. Just a little while ago, the police finally brought back
copies
of the paper files that weren’t stolen. They’re still combing through the originals.”

“Nice to know it took having my daughter kidnapped to make them pay attention to the break-in.”

Lil’s thin lips curled upward. “It’s how they have to work, hon. They concentrate on the dangerous cases, and get to the others when they can.”

Sunny bit her trembling lip. “I know, but if I’d made a bigger fuss about the break-in, maybe Emily wouldn’t have been taken.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. The computer technician told me they’d concluded that the thief was after information. Otherwise why take the paper files and wipe the hard drive? They could easily have walked out with the entire computer.”

“Wow, that’s brilliant. And it’s exactly what I told the officers the night of the break-in.” Anger pushed away Sunny’s haze of panic.

“You need some tea. Come on.” Lillian held out her hand.

Sunny stepped around the desk and let her next-door neighbor lead her through the archway into the living room, and on into the kitchen. Two years ago, when Sunny had moved into this house and started her detective agency, Lillian had appointed herself Sunny’s assistant. She claimed that since she’d retired from her job as an IRS investigator, she wasn’t getting any “action,” as she’d put it.

The afternoon sun shining through the trees drew changing patterns on the tile floor as Sunny slipped into a chair. From where she sat, the polished wood of Emily’s high chair gleamed cheerily.

She propped her elbows on the wooden table and put her face in her hands.

“I know something else has happened,” Lillian said in a low voice as she set a cup of tea in front of Sunny. “Did the FBI agent have any news?”

“No.” Sunny pushed her fingers through her hair. Then, using a napkin, she fished the note from her pocket and spread it on the table.

Lillian put a hand to her throat. “Oh, my God, a second note?”

“Read it,” Sunny said, hunching her stiff shoulders.

Lillian did, then looked up, her lined face pale. “Where did you find this?”

“On the windshield of my car. Right there in the police parking lot in broad daylight. He
knew
I was talking to the police. He surely knows the FBI has been called in.” She wrapped her hands around the warm cup. “Why won’t he tell me what he wants?”

Lillian read the words aloud.

“Emily is still alive, for now. But you’re spending too much time with the police. Someone you know will be hurt. You’d better point the investigation in a different direction, or next time, it will be someone you love. Remember, I’m watching you.”

She looked up.

Sunny met her gaze. “I was afraid they’d hurt you.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve from my IRS investigator days. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Sunny sent her friend a weary smile. “It was the luckiest day of my life when I moved next door to you.”

Lillian smiled back at her, but her smile faded quickly. “Sunny, you have to show the police the notes.”

“What? How can I? This is the second time this monster has threatened to kill Emily. Now he’s threatening to hurt people I know. He knows every move I make. And so far I haven’t told the police anything. If I turn over the notes now—”

“The police and the FBI are used to dealing with kidnappers. They have resources I can’t tap into. Their DNA index—CODIS. And AFIS, the fingerprint database. I know you’re trying to be careful with the evidence, but what good is preserving it if you’re not going to give it to the police to examine and test?”

Aghast, Sunny stared at Lillian. “What if the notes lead them to the kidnapper? What then? What if the police and the FBI start closing in on him?” She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry as sand. “He’ll know I told them about him. He will
kill
her,” she croaked.

Lillian’s face reflected both sympathy and sadness. “Darling, every kidnapper warns the family not to contact the police. You know that. What would you tell your client to do?”

“This is not an ordinary kidnapping. It’s obvious from the messages that Emily was taken because of something I stumbled into. I don’t know what, yet. But if the police can trace these people through the notes, then so can I, with your help. Meanwhile, I can’t tell anyone anything. They’re
watching
me.”

“This is
not
different. It’s exactly the same as your other cases. Every minute that passes, Emily is in more danger. You know I’ll help you. But we can’t do this alone. You have to give the notes to the FBI.”

Lillian’s words stabbed Sunny’s heart like a knife. Her last ally, her friend, had turned against her.

“I
KNEW
JANIE WAS LYING!” Bess Raymond stopped in the middle of undressing the baby girl and looked up at the television. The twenty-four hour news channel was following up on an AMBER Alert that had been issued in Nashville, Tennessee, almost forty-eight hours before. “She said you came from Cleveland. But she was too antsy. Too nervous. She stole you in Nashville, right back where she started.” She shook her head in wonder. “Nashville…”

“Emily Rose Loveless, six-month-old daughter of Sunny Loveless, was abducted Tuesday night—”

The news anchor’s voice pulled her back to the present moment. “Did you hear that, Emily Rose?” Bess cooed. “That’s you.” She shook her head. “Janie’s clever, but she can be really stupid. It never even occurred to her to check you for identification.” She tickled Emily under the chin. “If she had, she’d have found the ID bracelet on your ankle. It was probably too big for your little wrist, wasn’t it?”

The baby giggled as Bess tickled her foot.

The delicate piece of gold jewelry that had been hidden by the baby’s ruffled socks now rested in Bess’s leather logbook in the bottom drawer of her ancient desk. It had the name EMILY ROSE LOVELESS engraved on the front, and a telephone number on the back.

“Sunny Loveless, a private investigator whose detective agency, Loveless, Inc., advertises happy
endings for its clients, can only wait, hoping for her own happy ending.”

Bess looked up from changing Emily’s diaper in time to see a shot of a pretty Victorian house with a wooden sign over the door.

When she had Emily snugly dressed in a footed sleeper, she tucked her back into her carrier.

“Oh Emily Rose, now we know where you came from. You live in that pretty house we saw on TV in Nashville. I should have recognized the area code of your phone number.”

The screen changed to a long shot of a young woman with honey-gold hair being guided into the house by an older woman. “Look, sweetie. There’s your mommy. She must be missing you so much.”

Emily started to whine.

“I know you want to see her. I’ll have your bottle all ready in just a minute.”

She bent over the bottom drawer of the desk, digging out the worn leather notebook where she had recorded every baby that had come through her home. She reverently opened it to the first page.

“Almost fifteen years to the day,” she whispered, touching the notation written there in her own neat script. Fifteen years ago Janie had shown up with the first child—an adorable toddler who’d become Bess’s daughter, filling the awful void left by the death of her own child. Her lips turned up in a sad smile. Mia was so grown-up now. She’d be going to college in the fall.

Her heart filled to bursting with love for her beauti
ful daughter, but it broke every time she looked at the book, every time she thought about Mia’s real family and how they must have suffered all these years.

She turned page after page. So many children. So much happiness—so much heartache.

“I think fifteen years is long enough. Don’t you, Emily Rose? Enough stolen children. Enough heartbroken families.”

Emily gurgled. Bess picked up the engraved silver rattle she’d found buried in Emily’s carrier and jiggled it in front of her face. The baby squealed happily, waving her arms.

“Time for Old Bess to come clean. A lot of people deserve to know the truth. Including my own daughter.”

Anxiety and loss stabbed through her. She’d been such a coward. She’d never told Mia all the details of her adoption. Mia would hate her when she found out Bess had kept stolen children for Janie. That Mia herself had been stolen from her family.

“But that’s okay.” Tears wound their way down her weathered cheeks. “I had her this long. I love her as much as if I’d given birth to her, just like your mommy loves you. I guess I always knew it would end one day.”

Sniffing, Bess turned to the last page, where she had carefully recorded Emily’s information.

Cleveland, Ohio. Emily Rose Loveless. June twenty-first.