Memories of Us (19 page)

Panic flickering in his eyes, Campbell shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

“Sure we can.” Cook shrugged. “Whether or not we have to is up to you.”

Celia pitched her voice to a gentler tone. “Where’s the baby, Mr. Campbell?”

“She’s dead!” Campbell slumped in the chair. Celia looked at Cook, her heart clenching in her chest. Campbell rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s dead, all right?”

“I told the other detectives everything.” In Tick Calvert’s office, Wesley Campbell kept a tight grip on his wife’s hand. “Our adoption fell through and the birth mother went to Florida. There is no baby for us. End of story.”

“There’s only one problem with that, Mr. Campbell.” Tom leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest. “We don’t believe you.”

Anger flashed over the man’s face. “What do you want from me? I can’t tell you what you want to hear because I don’t know anything.”

Tick folded his hands atop his desk. He smiled at Ashley Campbell, who huddled into the chair next to her husband. Beneath her tidy dark hair, her thin face was pale. “You wanted this baby very much, didn’t you, Mrs. Campbell?”

She darted a look at her husband. Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I understand how hard this is for you.”

Campbell made a disgusted sound in his throat. “You understand jack shit.”

Tick ignored him, his attention focused on Ashley. “My wife has had two miscarriages in the last six months. We lost another baby farther along in a pregnancy the year before that. The doctors keep telling us it may never happen for us, because of damage to her uterus, but she’s having a hard time accepting that.”

For the first time, a spark of life appeared in Ashley’s hazel eyes. She twisted her hands together in her lap. “It’s so hard. She probably blames herself.”

Naked pain flickered across Tick’s face. “I know she does. It tears her up inside, even though she tries to hide that from me.”

“You can help her. There are other ways.” Ashley leaned forward. “There are people who would help you. Like Ms. Grady helped us—”

“Ashley, shut up!” Campbell recovered himself quickly, covering her hands with his as she cowered away. He glared at Tick. “That’s enough.”

Tom unfolded his arms and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I’m interested in what your wife has to say. How did Ms. Grady help you, Mrs. Campbell?”

“We’re leaving.” Campbell rose, pulling his wife to her feet. She glanced at Tom helplessly, then away, her expression lost and filled with a devouring pain.

“Mrs. Campbell?” At Tick’s gentle prompting, she turned her bruised gaze his way. “You don’t have to have your husband’s permission to talk to us. Someone murdered Ms. Grady. They cut out her baby and we have no idea where that baby is—”

“I said that’s enough.” Campbell dragged her toward the door.

“No!” She pulled away, tears spilling from her wild eyes. “You have to tell them, Wes. God knows where that baby is and she tried to help us. We have to help her now. You have to tell them everything.”

“What do you mean, she’s dead?” Celia eased into a chair at the table. “Just slow down and tell us everything, Mr. Campbell.”

Jameson rubbed his hands down his face and dropped back into his chair. “All Wes and Ashley wanted was a baby. They’d tried for years and…nothing. The doctors said Ashley would never be able to conceive. Jessica said she could help.”

“By giving them her baby?” Cook asked, his voice quiet.

Poison saturated the glare Jameson cast in Cook’s direction. “No. She told me she could find a girl who wanted to give up her baby. A private adoption, but perfectly legal. I had no reason to doubt her.”

With a sinking sensation, Celia glanced at Cook. Mouth twisted, he returned her look. They had no doubt which baby Jameson had told them was dead. Jesus above, they’d never be able to sort through this mess.

Cook rubbed a hand over his face. “When did she tell you the baby died?”

Jameson blew out a long breath. “I called her after I saw the news report about that dead baby found in the roadblock. It seemed too coincidental not to be Ashley and Wes’s baby after she’d phoned to tell us the baby had been born.”

Celia shook her head. “Why didn’t you come forward then?”

“Why?” A rough laugh vibrated Jameson’s frame. “And have her release that damn movie of us? Have Wes and Ashley’s pain splashed all over the news? Do you know what that would do to Ashley?”

Celia exchanged a look with Cook, then turned to Jameson again. “You love her too, don’t you?”

“Does it show?” Jameson buried his face in his hands. “God. All I wanted was for Ashley to be happy, to have that baby she wanted so damn much. Look at this mess.”

“Did you know Jessica was pregnant?”

Jameson lifted his head, surprise registering on his features. “No. Jessica didn’t like children personally. She was adamant that she’d never get pregnant. She said it ruined a woman.”

“Tell them, Wes.” Ashley’s voice broke, pitching higher with each word.

“Yeah, Wes.” Tom rocked back on his heels. “Tell us.”

Wesley dropped his head and drew in a deep breath. “She said she could help us. That for the right amount of money, she’d find us a baby.”

“How much money?”

“Fifty thousand.” Wesley’s mouth twisted. “Twenty-five grand up front, another fifteen a few weeks later, and ten when the baby was born.”

“So what happened? Did she renege, so you decided to take the baby from her?”

“No.” Wesley shook his head. “The baby died before she got to us. Hell, y’all found her during that roadblock the other night.”

“That was the baby you were supposed to get?” Tick asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes.” Ashley blinked rapidly. “That was our baby.”

“Did you ever meet the birth mother?”

“No, I wanted to meet her, but Ms. Grady said…she said it was better if we didn’t. She sent us updates, sonograms, that kind of thing.”

“Do you still have those?”

Ashley nodded.

“We’d like to see them. It might help us.”

Tom waved a hand at Wesley. “How did this work? Did you ever meet with anyone except Ms. Grady?”

Wesley shook his head again. “No. We actually only met her once or twice. Jameson handled most of it for us. That’s really all we can tell you, all right? We’re leaving now.”

“I don’t think Jameson Campbell is our guy, even if he did know about the video.” Cook popped a fresh piece of gum in his mouth. He tapped a thick finger on the stack of adoption files. “Maybe one of these couples can tell us something more.”

Celia leaned against the table, staring at the white board. Nine babies. Fifty thousand dollars per baby. Almost a half a million dollars.

Maybe one more baby, worth so much someone would kill for it?

McMillian jerked his chin at Cook. “Why don’t you and Tick start those interviews?”

Cook waved a finger in the air. “And what, pray tell, Counselor, are you and St. John going to do?”

A feral grin crossed McMillian’s face. “Ms. St. John and I are going to have a little conversation with the Honorable Alton Baker.”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Celia said. Standing behind her, Tom shook off a frisson of uneasiness. Ridiculous when Baker wasn’t a threat to them in his own home, when Celia could more than take care of herself.

“May I offer you a drink?” Baker crossed to the bar and lifted a decanter, amber liquid glowing in the lights from a large crystal chandelier.

“No, thank you.” Before he could fight the protective instinct, Tom took a step closer to Celia. She glanced at him over her shoulder, blue eyes cool and shuttered.

A grin quirked at his lips. She was in full cop mode. Funny how he was beginning to like that on her. Maybe because when they were alone together, that cop was nowhere to be found. Then it was all-woman mode. His woman.

Baker splashed liquid in a tumbler and came around the bar to settle back in his leather armchair. He waved a hand at a luxurious couch. “Please, sit.”

Celia’s chin tilted higher. “We’ll stand, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Baker sipped at his drink and fixed them with an inquiring look. “Now, what can I help you with?”

“You finalized several private adoptions for Jessica Grady over the last year or so.”

Nodding, Baker set his drink aside. The glass clicked against the polished rosewood table. He steepled his fingers together. “Yes, I did. Why?”

Tom narrowed his eyes, the uneasiness bouncing along his nerves again. “We have reason to believe some of those adoptions may have been fraudulent.”

Baker didn’t appear worried. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Tom folded his arms over his chest. “What exactly was your relationship with Ms. Grady?”

Baker laughed. “Not quite what yours with her was, I assure you, Mr. District Attorney. I’ve known Jessica for years, God rest her soul. She clerked for me her first year out of law school. If she asked me for a few favors in expediting mutually agreed-upon private adoptions, I don’t see the harm. Everyone was happy.”

“Except many of the adoptions had the same birth mothers’ names on them.” Celia’s tone was cold, firm. “Names belonging to girls who died years ago. And now not only is Jessica Grady dead, but her own baby is missing. And you don’t see the harm?”

The judge’s face hardened, but he waved away the question with another laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Yes, I signed off on the adoptions, but that’s all. Jessica arranged them alone.”

“I’m sure the state judicial council will be interested in hearing about how you ‘helped’ her.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. McMillian?”

“No.” Tom smiled. Everyone who knew him knew he didn’t make idle threats. He made set-in-stone promises.

Baker’s gaze narrowed to burning slits and he pushed up from the chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner engagement. I trust you can show yourselves out.”

Tom gave him one last hard look before ushering Celia outside. Humid air washed over them, doing little to alleviate the heat of anger buzzing under Tom’s skin.

“You know he’s lying.” Squinting against the setting sun, Celia looked at Tom across the roof of the Mercedes.

He jerked the door open. “Of course he’s lying.”

Celia slid into the passenger seat. “Did she ever mention clerking for him?”

“No.” He fired the engine. Discussing Jessica with Celia made him edgy. He didn’t want Celia thinking what they were doing meant as little as his involvement with Jessica. Even if he couldn’t find a way to articulate, even to himself, how deeply Celia had worked her way into his life in a few short days.

Wait. Who was he kidding? She’d been working her way into his life since the day he’d interviewed her, since she’d started working in his office.

“How long ago did she graduate law school?”

“Ten, eleven years, I guess.” He shrugged. “Why?”

Celia rested her head on her hand, her gaze trained on the large house as Tom wheeled around the circular drive. “He’s smooth. Charming. Just wondered what the extent of their relationship was.”

“I’m not sure charming is the word I’d choose to describe him, Celia.” His humorless laugh hovered between them. “Jessica was a very sexual woman. Does that answer your question?”

“It helps explain why y’all never got around to talking about your past legal experience.”

Tom slanted a quelling look in her direction. “Not funny, Cee.”

“All right, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” She sighed. “I keep thinking about that previous pregnancy of hers. Did she put that child up for adoption? And this baby. Why is
this
baby so important?”

“I don’t know.” He swung out of the driveway onto the quiet country highway. His own frustration matched what he heard in Celia’s voice. He didn’t like unanswered questions.

“We need to find out about that first baby, McMillian. I’m telling you, it’s important.”

As arranged, they met Cook and Tick back at the sheriff’s department. In the conference room, with their notes and questions still on the whiteboard and files on the table, tension seemed tangible in the air as she and McMillian entered.

His face tight with irritation, Cook tapped his pen atop his notebook. Celia caught his gaze. “What’s going on?”

“None of these people want to talk to us.” He tossed the pen down with a sharp, frustrated movement. “Not that I’m surprised. If I bought a kid, I probably wouldn’t want to admit that either.”

McMillian tugged out a chair, offered it to Celia, then pulled another for himself. “You got nothing?”

“Nada.” Chair tilted back to a dangerous angle, Tick shook his head. He didn’t open his eyes. “All right, we know Blanton was Grady’s courier for the Campbell baby. We know he has links to the Dixie Mafia, such as it is. We suspect Grady was laundering money for someone. She told Cait and me she had access to birth mothers.”

Cook huffed. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

Tick opened his eyes and the chair’s front legs hit the floor with a soft bang. “What else is the Dixie Mafia known for?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Celia tilted her head to one side, mentally running through the list Tick had given them earlier. “Gambling. Bootlegging. Prostitution—”

“Exactly.” Tick nodded. “Can you think of a better source for their baby ring?”

The cold-blooded reality slithered through Celia’s mind. She shuddered. “Oh my God.”

“The problem,” Cook said, “is making the link between Grady or Blanton and whoever’s really heading this up.”

McMillian rested his chin on his hand, rubbing a finger against his lips. “And none of the adoptive couples were willing to talk?”

“Not a single one.”

“Maybe a subpoena to appear before the grand jury will change that.” He slanted a look at Celia. “We’ll make sure Judge Baker receives one as well.”

Tom slumped on his couch, a tumbler holding two fingers of Scotch balanced on his leg. The house was quiet, save for the quiet rustling of Celia going through more files from Jessica’s office. Something about having her close did more to settle his jangling nerves than anything else. A weary smile tugged at his mouth. He could get addicted to her calm presence.

Papers crackled. Gentle fingers removed the tumbler from his hand and glass clinked on wood. Celia straddled his lap, her massaging touch soft at his temples.

“What are you over here smiling about?” she whispered. Her clean scent surrounded him.

“You,” he murmured, giving in to the temptation to allow her to take care of him. He relaxed deeper into the sofa. She was definitely becoming his favorite addiction.

Her fingers eased down his neck and over his shoulders in firm strokes, pushing away all of the tension. He swallowed a groan and let his hands settle at her hips, the faded denim of her jeans supple under his palms. There was nothing sexual in her touch, no desire rising in him, except the need to keep her here with him, close like this, touching him, for as long as she liked.

“You’re relieved, aren’t you?” She rubbed down his arms to his hands, working the strain away. “That the baby isn’t yours.”

He lifted heavy lids, not even the powder keg of the topic disturbing the magic she was working on him. She watched him, her face open, caring, concerned.

Nonjudgmental.

“Yes, I’m relieved.” He stroked down her hip. “I can’t face that again.”

Some of the tightness invaded him once more. He waited for her to withdraw, to pull away. This was why he’d chosen to hide behind his feelings for Kathleen all those years, why he’d gone for brief affairs with women so far removed from maternal instincts they might as well be in another universe. For those women, he’d been what they wanted. He’d been enough.

But Celia was different—caring, tender, giving.

The kind of woman who’d make some child a fantastic mother.

A subdued shudder moved over him.

“I can understand that.” With her thumb and index finger, she exerted gentle pressure at the base of his thumb. He did groan then, relaxed pleasure radiating through his entire body. She laughed, a low, husky sound that sent shivers up his spine. Sliding off his lap, she tugged at him. “Come on. Bring your drink upstairs and I’ll give you the full-body version.”

“God, where did you learn to do that?” He retrieved his glass and let her pull him toward the stairs.

She laughed again. “Cis. She’s a certified masseuse too. It’s her sideline from the store. She does the whole package thing, with private yoga classes and massages.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, nuzzled her shoulder, contentment curling through him.

At the foot of the stairs, she shot him a glance beneath her lashes. “You know it doesn’t matter, don’t you, McMillian?”

He didn’t have to ask what
it
was.

She curved a hand along his jaw and his heart jerked at the soft emotion glowing in her blue eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, with me, it’s all about you.”

Before his stunned mind could formulate an answer, her cell phone pinged from the living area. Her head fell back. “I have to get that.”

He let her go, still trying to take in the reality of her words. She leaned down to retrieve her phone from her bag, the silvery strands of her hair shielding her face. “St. John. Oh, hey, I was just talking about you.”

She straightened and looked at Tom, mouthing “my sister”. He smiled, watching the way her face lit up as they chatted. Damn, she was even more gorgeous when she let down the walls, when the real Celia shone through.

He wanted her around more and more. She made his life seem less empty, less cold.

Upstairs, the phone rang in his office. He sighed, images of his full-body massage scattering away. Catching Celia’s eye, he pointed upstairs and she nodded, waving him on.

“Um, I don’t think so. Not tonight.” Her voice followed him. “
How
much to fix your transmission? Of course I don’t mind if you use it. You know where the keys are…”

He jogged up the stairs and grabbed the phone from its charging cradle. “Hello.”

“Tom, it’s Rhett.” The cellular connection rattled and hissed. “I wanted to check in, let you know we made it up here okay.”

“Good to hear from you.” Tom dropped into his desk chair. “How’s it going?”

“Okay so far.” Weariness slid into Rhett’s deep voice. “The initial blood tests look good, according to the doctors. The donor seems to be a match, so Amarie starts the chemo tomorrow.”

“That’s great. I’m glad, Rhett. How’s Amarie? And Mariah?”

“They’re both pretty tired. Excited. A little anxious, I think.” Rhett’s voice faded, came back stronger. “So what’s going on down there? Turn up anything today on Jessica’s case?”

Tom filled him in quickly on the day’s events. The line continued to hiss between them, so he wasn’t sure how much the other man caught. Finally, Tom gave up. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Rhett. Focus on your family. Don’t worry about what’s happening here.”

“I’m focused, but I want to be in the loop.” Another crackling took the line, Rhett’s voice rising and falling again. “If you get a lead, call me. Doesn’t matter what time. I’ve got my cell with me constantly.”

“Will do. Give Mariah and Amarie my best.” He replaced the phone in the cradle. Traces of his former tension seized his shoulders. He could empathize with Rhett’s situation. He lifted his glass and tossed off the Scotch.

Celia’s soft footsteps sounded on the stairs and she appeared in the doorway. “Hey.”

He smiled. “Hey.”

“That was Cis, wanting to take my Xterra tonight. Her car is still in the shop at Lawson’s.” She tilted her head toward his bedroom. “Still want that massage?”

“Are you kidding?” He levered out of the chair. A stack of the slick plastic sheets holding his baseball-card collection slid to the floor.

She laughed and moved forward to help him gather them. They rose together and he took them from her, replacing them on the stack of notebooks. Celia stilled and he followed her gaze, knowing what he’d see.