Lullabies and Lies (7 page)

She was dressed in a loose white T-shirt and pajama bottoms that were blue with white clouds. Her body was as slender and curvaceous as he’d imagined it under the tailored slacks and shirt she’d worn yesterday, with the
same airbrushed skin he remembered. The scratches on her cheek seemed a little fainter.

“Is it about Emily?” The hope that lifted her voice and sparkled in her eyes was heartbreaking. He hated to quash it.

He shook his head. “No, but it is relevant to the case.”

The sparkle went out of her eyes, and for Griff, the day turned less bright.

She nodded. “I’ll be down as soon as I dress.”

“Are you sure, darling?” Lillian asked with a frown. “I know you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m okay.” She walked back up the stairs, and Griff watched her bare feet and slender ankles until they disappeared at the top of the stairs. He swallowed. He’d never paid any attention to a woman’s feet before.

He turned to find a sad smile lighting Lillian’s face.

“She’s been so brave. Emily has been her whole life for the past six months. The courage you see is just a front. Inside, she’s about to fall apart.” Love and worry rang in Lillian’s voice.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Jackson, what do you know about her cases, her friends, her enemies? Who would want to hurt her?”

Lillian sank deeper into her chair and assessed him keenly.

He waited.

“Most of the people she’s helped send Christmas cards, with pictures of their kids and pets. I could probably count unhappy clients on one hand.”

“Maybe you could do that for me.”

Lillian Jackson brushed a strand of gray hair away
from her face. “Lately, there have been some harassing phone calls, a couple of different people—I think.”

“Like your deadbeat piece of scum on the phone just now?”

She nodded. “His ex-wife hired Sunny to find him. He was using his child support to vacation in Jamaica with his girlfriend. When Sunny tracked him down, he told her she’d be sorry she’d meddled in his life.”

Griff flipped his notebook open and skimmed his notes. “Would that be Bob Thomas? He has an alibi for Tuesday night.”

Lillian nodded. “I know.”

“So you just called him to harass him?”

“And to get a record of his voice. We’ve been trying to put all our case files back together since the break-in a month and a half ago. Someone has called a couple of times making vague threats about stopping Sunny’s meddling, but I don’t think it was him.”

His mouth quirked. “Says the IRS investigator?”

She straightened. “That’s right.”

“Then who could it be?”

“The first one that comes to mind, of course, is Burt Means.”

“Means?” Griff flipped pages in his notebook. “The father?”

“Right. Emily’s biological father. Sunny helped prosecute him for statutory rape. He threatened her.”

“And his release from prison fits the timeline. Anyone else?”

“A man who wanted to find the sister he hadn’t seen for ten years. She didn’t want to see him. Got really angry at Sunny.”

“What about others?”

Lillian nodded at his notebook. “Don’t you have them all in there?”

Griff cocked his brow. “Yes, I do, but a written report is never as good as an interview.”

“That’s certainly true.”

Griff held her gaze. “Ms. Jackson, you of all people know the importance of having all the facts.”

Lillian’s gaze turned wary.

Griff leaned over the desk and stared into her eyes. “You know she’s got to give us the notes. She’s putting her baby in grave danger by hiding her contact with the kidnappers. I saw her find the note yesterday.”

He waited, holding his breath, while she assessed him. Did she know about the notes? And if she did, which side would win—her logical investigator side, or the protective, mothering side?

“Sunny’s so tired, and she’s been through so much.”

He didn’t answer.

Finally she sighed. “I’ve tried to reason with her.” Her eyes glistened damply. “She’s not thinking like a private investigator. She’s thinking like a mother.”

Griff nodded and straightened. A strong-willed mother. With more guts than most. He straightened. Maybe now she’d listen to reason. Now that tragedy had struck.

WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Hiram shot straight up in bed. His heart leaped into his throat. It rang again, pumping fear through his veins like blood.

It was the police
. He knew it was.

He’d fallen into bed fully clothed after cowering in
his apartment all night, sweating like a pig, hardly able to breathe as he waited for the knock on the door he was sure he’d hear any second.

He’d never moved as fast in his life as when he’d scrambled down those stairs and past the ominously still body of Mabry, crumpled on the bottom step.

The phone kept ringing. Hiram looked at it, wishing the thing would just explode into pieces and leave him alone.

With a hand that shook like an old man, he gingerly lifted the receiver to his ear.

“What the hell have you done?”

Janie’s strident voice scraped across his nerves like a cheese grater against bare knuckles. Wincing, thinking he might be better off in the hands of the police, he opened his mouth.

But all that emerged was a pathetic, unmanly squeak.

“Hiram, you—” Janie let loose with a string of invectives that would make a longshoreman blush.

He swung his legs onto the floor and tried to get up, but his knees were like jelly. “Janie,” he croaked.

“—complete and utter idiot.” Finally she ran out of steam.

He heard her draw deeply on a cigarette.

“I don’t know what happened.” He remembered thinking about pushing Mabry, then suddenly the old man was lying ominously still at the foot of the stairs.

“You don’t—how can you not know? I’m sitting here watching the
national
news and hearing that the landlord of the apartment where Eddie and I lived fell down his stairs. He’s
dead
. How in the hell does that divert attention, you incompetent, blubbering fool?”

“It was an accident. I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” Janie yelled, then coughed. “How?”

Hiram tried again to rise. His knees held, so he stood and paced, raking his hand through his thinning hair. He had no clue, but he would never admit that to her.

Think!

“The father!” he blurted. The lump that choked his throat made his voice squeaky. “Burt Means just got out of prison. The Loveless woman put him there. He was a construction worker. I’ll rig something to scare ’em, and leave a clue to link it to him.”

“Hang on, hang on. Let me think.”

Hiram grimaced at the sound of Janie hacking through the phone. He walked over to the window and lifted the dusty blinds just enough to peer out.

What if he’d left something at the landlord’s place? He broke out in a cold sweat. Where was the damn envelope he’d been writing on?

“You cannot screw this up, Hiram. If I have to come down there and take care of things again, I’ll take care of you at the same time. Do you understand me?”

“D-don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

“No. Please. Do
not
come up with anything. You listen to me. Do it this way.”

Hiram listened, wiping a sheen of sweat off his face. The lump in his throat finally began to dissolve.

He had to hand it to Janie—she was a nut, but she was a smart nut.

SUNNY DID NOT WANT to have to deal with Griffin Stone again. He read her much too easily. She was used to being the one who slipped in under other people’s defenses. She didn’t like having the tables turned.

She halted at the dining room door. In the sun-filled kitchen, he stood with his back to her, accepting a cup of coffee from Lillian.

He wore a lightweight navy-blue sport coat and creased khaki slacks, with classic penny loafers. His dark hair teased the collar of his shirt. As he reached to take the coffee, the subtle movement of his shoulders inside the jacket drew her eye. They were broad shoulders, strong shoulders. They looked as if they could carry a heavy burden with ease.

Sunny swallowed the lump of fear and loneliness that briefly clogged her throat. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin and walked into the kitchen.

“Here she is,” Lillian said. “Darling, do you want coffee?”

Agent Stone turned, and Sunny saw his eyes in full light for the first time. She suppressed a gasp. They were a deep blue-violet, possibly the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Surrounded by black lashes and topped by straight dark brows, they softened his strong, harshly planed face.

“Um, yes, thanks, Lil. I’d like some.”

She sat at the kitchen table, gesturing for the agent to sit too, but he waited until Lillian had poured one more cup of coffee.

After Lillian set the cup in front of her, she touched Sunny on the shoulder. “I’m going home for a while. I have laundry to do and some other chores. The officer up front can answer the phone.” Lillian briefly glanced toward Griff. “Unless you need me here?”

Sunny shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

Lillian’s hand cupped Sunny’s chin. “I hope you gave
some thought to what I said yesterday. It would be so much easier for you.” Lillian kissed her cheek. “Nice to meet you, Agent Stone.”

“Call me Griff, ma’am.” Griff nodded at her. “Good to meet you, too.”

Lillian smiled warmly at him. “Griff,” she said.

After Lillian left, he pulled out a chair and sat across from Sunny. “So here we are again, on opposite sides of the table.”

His voice was distressingly cheerful.

She rubbed her temple, then sipped her coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste. Everything tasted like ashes, and would, she knew, until Emily was back home with her.

“You said you had information relevant to my daughter’s case?” she asked coldly.

He pulled a torn piece of lined notepaper from his pocket.

Sunny almost dropped her cup. It clattered against the wooden tabletop.

“Wh-where did you get that?” she stammered, terror streaking through her.

“From a car windshield in the precinct parking lot. You have one just like it. I watched you pick it up yesterday afternoon.”

Adrenaline sizzled through her veins. Her pulse jackhammered. She’d known he was watching her, even though she’d tried to deny it. She’d felt his burning stare.

He held the piece of paper between two fingers, as if taunting her with it. She met his gaze briefly, but her eyes kept going back to the paper. What did the other notes have on them? It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder that until now.

“Is it a flyer?”

“You know it’s not.” He spread the sheet out in front of her. It was blank. “Turn it over.”

His voice held a command she couldn’t refuse. She reached out with a hand that shook, and nudged the paper over. Her breath caught. “There’s nothing on it.”

Relief and fear collided in her chest. Relief that he didn’t
know
her sheet was not blank, and fear that he was about to somehow trick her into admitting she’d gotten another note.

She wiped her hand with her napkin and waited, looking down at her cup, dreading his next words.

“But there was writing on yours, wasn’t there? I saw how you reacted. I watched you read it. Show me the note, Ms. Loveless.”

She reached for her cup, trying for casual, but her hand shook so much she gave up the effort and balled it into a fist.

He surprised her by leaning forward and covering her hand with his. His skin was warm, his fingers hard and strong, like the rest of him, like his name.

His hand was much larger than hers, but it looked graceful and competent. She had no doubt he could break a neck or hold a baby with equal care and skill.

Her vision grew hazy as she imagined letting him take the burden from her shoulders. He might be cool and
just-the-facts,
but he exuded a confidence Sunny craved.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered. She bit her tongue so the answers he sought wouldn’t slip out. She felt like a rabbit caught in headlights—paralyzed with fear. Yet she had to make a decision. She didn’t know which way to turn for safety.

As if she’d spoken aloud, he answered her. “My expertise is in child abductions. So trust me, I do know. I’ve had cases like this before.”

“Not like this one.” She pulled her hand from under his. His touch was too reassuring, too tempting. It made her want to trust him.

Her throat closed up and it took her a moment to speak. “Have you ever had a case with a baby this small? Emily is only six months old.”

He nodded. “Often when—”

She interrupted him. “Did you get the baby back?”

“Ms. Loveless—”

“Did you?”

A shadow crossed his face, and Sunny’s heart sank. She’d almost let him convince her that he could make everything right.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale and Griffin Stone was no knight in shining armor. He was just a human being with human failings. One more obstacle between her and the most important thing in her life—her child, Emily.

“Children are most often taken by a relative,” he said. “Most are returned to their family safe and sound. I’ve handled eleven child abductions with the FBI. Five were children younger than one year. Four of those were taken by a family member. All four were eventually recovered. The fifth infant was taken by a stranger.”

He raised his gaze to hers, his incredible eyes hooded and dark.

Sunny’s shoulders ached with tension. “And—?”

He shook his head. The faint lines around his mouth
deepened. “That was three years ago. We never found him. He’s still listed as missing.”

Through numb lips, Sunny said, “This is not a family member abduction.”

He didn’t speak.

“And it’s not some deranged woman who wants a baby for herself.”

His face softened, although his eyes didn’t. “I know.”

Her heart lurched painfully. Hearing him confirm her fears frightened her even more. If the kidnapper wasn’t a family member or a stranger, then what did that mean for Emily’s safety?

“I keep thinking if I hadn’t adopted Emily, she’d be safe now. She’d be with a stable, loving, protective family.” She took a shaky breath. “Or if I’d only waited to go to the store. I didn’t have to have milk—”