The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  Ella just looked at him. There was a question. A mistake.

  Except it didn’t actually feel like a mistake, did it? It had, or seemed like it should, but . . . not really. Not when they were talking and laughing and planning things . . . Not that she wanted to admit that. It never really had, even as she’d tried to convince herself that it was a mistake of gargantuan proportions. But when they were together, it was almost . . . too easy . . . too perfect.

  That scared her.

  Had scared her.

  So they fought. Stupidly, and she’d . . . she’d . . . fucked it all to hell and back. So what if he hadn’t told his family yet? As he’d kept pointing out, they were married.

  And now what?

  “So the father, will he be a part of the baby’s life?” the man across from her asked, jerking her back to the here and now.

  “Quinlan? Oh, hell yes. Soon as he knows, I’d imagine.”

  “You haven’t told him” He tsked and there was slightly less professionalism in his voice, not as clipped and calm as before.

  “See, you’re a guy.”

  “So?”

  “So the way you just said that tells me I’ve waited too long already in telling him, but how could I tell him when I just figured it out myself a couple of weeks ago?”

  “You haven’t told him in two weeks?”

  “Not quite two weeks, more like one and a half and how do I tell him? By what? Calling him? Hey, it’s me, remember, your wife? Yeah, so apparently at some point we weren’t careful enough and surprise, I’m pregnant!”

  He just looked at her.

  “I’m still trying to get my brain around the idea of having a baby and how I missed it up to this point and how was I to know that I ran from a totally perfect and wonderful guy because I was scared, which will just make him right and now if I say I want it all too, he’ll just think I only want to because of the baby and then—”

  “Breathe.” He held both hands up. “Please, don’t pass out or anything.”

  She took a deep breath and a drink of her chai.

  “Look, Ms. Ferguson.”

  “Kinncaid, actually. Or it was. Not sure if it still is. How do I find out?” How did she find out without calling Quin. She needed to call him. “Maybe I’ll ask him to come out here and then I can tell him.” She nodded. That was a better idea. “I could tell him we need to talk to work things out whichever way they go and I have something really important to talk to him about.” She frowned. “He’d come. Probably.” He’d been really pissed before. “Maybe.” Then again, maybe he’d expect her to come to him, and could she? The doctors told her to be careful with her previous history. No, if she told him it was serious, that she couldn’t come to him but she wanted and needed him to fly out here, he’d be here. She knew that—or hoped she did.

  The man across from her took a long drink of his coffee and didn’t take his eyes off of her. Black from what she could see in his mug. Probably didn’t put any sweetener in it either.

  Finally, he sighed and said, “Why don’t you wait on that phone call.” He shifted. “Look, both of us have things to do and somehow this whole conversation is not going the way I thought it would go.” Then he looked at her, his eyes narrowed on her. “Your hair had pink and blue streaks in it last time I saw you.”

  Now the stripes were purple. She’d changed it to pink and blue when she moved here because purple reminded her of the last time she’d seen Quinlan, and then she realized she needed something new and the pink and blue bothered her so she changed it to varying shades of purple.

  “I bet you made special agent really quickly, didn’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Whatever. Look, the thing is, we need a . . . contact on the inside.”

  “Contact? You mean a mole? Why? What for? What are you looking for? Or investigating?”

  He rubbed his hand over his face and tapped the card. “Think about it and then let us know, please. There are girls and babies going missing. Now, maybe that place has nothing to do with any of it. But if it does, we want to know.”

  She thought about that for a minute, thought of the young girls out there, the lonely women. Some of them had no one. Others had lots of people and lots of money. Missing babies?

  “Missing mothers and babies? Since when? Why don’t you send someone else in? Someone trained or something?”

  He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

  “Oh, I get it. The economy. Budget cuts. What are the chances of having a handy pregnant agent? You can’t fake pregnancy in a place that deals with that very thing or they’d find out. Plus, let’s face it. Me, you don’t have to pay, do you? I must be a . . . what’s it called . . .” She tapped the tabletop, her mind not latching on to the damned word.

  “Possible pain in my ass, it’s looking like.”

  She chuckled. “Agent Jareaux, that’s no way to sweet-talk me into being your . . . what’s the damned word? I swear pregnancy hormones are depleting my brain cells.”

  “Informant?”

  She snapped her fingers. “Your informant. That’s it exactly. So tell me why would I possibly want to be your informant? I have enough stress in my life right now, thank you very much.” She took a deep breath and smelled . . . roasted green chilies. She could swear the spicy scent was laughing at her. “God, I’m hungry.”

  “Are you always like this?” he asked, leaning up on his elbows, his eyes studying her and fingers beneath his chin, a small smile tilting the edges of his mouth upward.

  “Like what?”

  He licked his lips.

  “Like what? Go ahead. I’ve been called flighty, driven, a total bitch, eccentric and weird. Take your pick. My fave is gold-digging trash. So which would you choose?”

  He frowned. “None of those. Who called you trash? Your husband?”

  “Quinlan?” She laughed and laughed some more. “No, Quin didn’t call me that. He’d kick anyone’s ass who did . . . well, possibly. He would have before and . . . Never mind. Though if you want to be technical about it . . .” She took another deep breath and smelled something . . .

  “I have got to get some of that food I’m smelling. So if you want to finish this, and by the way, you really need to work on your sales pitch, we better go find out what smells so good, because otherwise my brain is only thinking of food and you only sound like blah-blah-blah. Maybe I want green chili enchiladas. With eggs. Huevos rancheros. Is it ranchero if it is not red sauce?” She stood up and grabbed her hobo woven bag that was also her purse. She glanced back to make sure he was coming. He stood there with a confused look on his face.

  “Look, you have some explaining to do. I won’t agree to help you unless I know more details. You are right. I like to help people.” Missing girls and missing babies. She put her hand over her stomach. “And you’ve caught my interest, though I can’t think right now because I’m suddenly starving and I want whatever smells so damned good.” She motioned to the inside. “I’ll ask the coffee shop dude. He’s a local so he’ll know where the smell is coming from. You coming?”

  He shook his head and followed her, opening the door. “Pain in my ass it will be, weird one though you are. But that’s okay, I can work with weird.”

  She laughed. “You might think so, but I usually either drive people crazy or they become overly protective. I don’t get it, but whatever.”

  She heard him sigh and mutter, “I do.”

  Ella smiled and led the way to food, knowing she might help the man after she learned more. Probably.

  Chapter 15

  Taos, July

  Ella finished up her evening session and looked around. One of the girls was missing. She’d been about six months along when Ella was hired on here.

  “Hey, Sally,” she asked the nurse who was helping with their class that evening. “Where is Nadia?” Nadia was pale, pale hair, pale eyes, and a slight Russian accent. She’d been in every class Ella had taught.

  Sally paused for just a second
while rolling her mat up before she brushed it off and finished sliding it into its case. “She left. Went home,” she said.

  Ella frowned, sliding her own mat into its case and gathering up her towel and water bottle. “Really? That’s great! Where’d she go to? And did she have the baby yet?”

  Ella hadn’t worked this past weekend. She’d had the weekend off, and with her extra classes she’d picked up here at the Retreat, they’d offered her full benefits if she’d help out in other areas as needed. So far that had only consisted of helping out in the juice and organic shop two weekends ago and leading a handful of approved hikes through the woods on marked paths.

  “Who are you guys talking about?” another young woman asked. Fran, with her wild red curls and freckles and bright personality, was a favorite of everyone. She was always trying to help others. “Nadia?”

  Sally didn’t say anything.

  “Nadia, yes. When did she go home?” Ella asked Fran.

  Fran shrugged. “No idea. She was in class Thursday evening, but . . .” Fran frowned. “I don’t know. She wasn’t at breakfast Friday morning, I don’t think, but I was working the kitchen that day, so I might have missed her.”

  “Well, she changed her mind, I heard, and went home.” Sally slung the mat over her arm and waved at them. “I’ve got to go, ladies. Ella, you heading home or staying tonight?”

  “Oh, I’m heading home,” she said.

  They waited while Sally left and others filed out.

  “You know what’s weird?” Fran asked her. Fran often wanted to talk to her and Ella didn’t mind.

  There were questions about pregnancy, but life too. Business and school. She liked the girl, who wasn’t much further along than she was. She’d graduated in May and was working her way through some online college courses. The Retreat was even helping her because she just wanted to get her degree in sonography for right now and was working her way through her general requirements to apply for the program. Ella knew she was a hard worker from a broken family and on her own. Maybe she just reminded her of herself.

  “So what’s weird?” she asked Fran.

  She looked around her. “Well, I was on cleaning duty as well, ya know? And in Dr. Merchant’s office there was something on his laptop, just before the screen saver came on. And it was the form.”

  “Form?”

  “Yeah, one of the forms we fill out if we’re blessing our kids to someone else.” The way she said it . . .

  “You know, you don’t have to give up your baby if you don’t want to.”

  Fran sighed and rubbed her growing belly. “Oh, I know that, you know that, but they’re all for it. And I know it would be better for the little guy, but still . . .” She shrugged. “I’ll admit, I’m sort of rethinking things, but then . . .” She shook her head. “See, the form was on his PC Friday evening before he came in from the other office, through the doors, ya know? The conference room thing?”

  She nodded. The conference room could be reached through doors on both ends from both Dr. Merchant’s and Dr. Radcliffe’s offices. And from the middle door that opened to everyone else.

  “So if she went home, why was the form on his computer? Why was space for adoptive parents filled in?” she asked softly, leaning in.

  Ella blinked. So far, she hadn’t seen or heard anything really to validate her working with the FBI. Jareaux called her once a week to check in or they met at the coffee shop or someplace to eat.

  If anyone asked, she was supposed to tell them that they were just friends, a guy that wanted to see her, but she wasn’t ready.

  She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she hadn’t argued. She still thought he was nuts. Place was a great place.

  Already, she’d seen several families leave with new bundles, crying and taking pictures of their new babies. Not all the adoptions came from the girls that lived here. They had other patients that lived and worked outside of the Retreat.

  “Really? Where’s Nadia from?” she asked.

  “No idea. Nadia was really quiet, ya know? She didn’t say much, didn’t share much. Once I asked her if the father would want the baby and she only said that the father would kill her if he knew she was here. I have no idea what that meant, but she wasn’t joking, or didn’t seem to be.”

  She nodded and walked to the door with Fran, flipping off the light at the door. The wall of windows was dark and let no light in, but then it was cloudy so why would it?

  “Sometimes this place is creepy,” Fran told her. “I remember this one night, when I first came here, I could have sworn I heard someone screaming and crying.” She shuddered. “They said it was the coyotes.”

  “You didn’t believe them?”

  “Well, I guess you could write it off to some ghost of a mother who died or something, didn’t sound like coyotes to me. And I know what they sound like. Sometimes, I wish I could leave here and just go somewhere else. Somewhere that seems real, ya know?” the girl asked her.

  She smiled. “I know. Maybe they’ll let you come stay with me a few nights if we ask them tomorrow.”

  Fran’s smile lit up her entire face, her eyes twinkling. “You think they’d let us? Oh, that would be awesome! Will you ask the doctors?”

  She laughed. “I can ask, Fran. That doesn’t mean they’ll agree, though.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, though, in advance.” Fran waved and walked off down the hallway. Ella watched her for a minute before heading out the doors into the chilly air and climbing into her Kia Soul and heading down the mountain.

  • • •

  He watched her from the window in the courtyard. The night was still and sound carried.

  The little curvaceous yoga instructor was a pleasure to watch. There was something about her that drew people to her. He should know. She’d drawn his attention enough since they’d hired her.

  And she was pregnant.

  It was almost too damned perfect.

  Perfect.

  Pregnant.

  Alone.

  He wanted to know more about her. About her past. Her interests. She was creative, artsy, intelligent.

  Pretty.

  And the father?

  He’d find out and then he’d make plans. Tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, he let the night settle around him. They’d get rain tomorrow. The pine-scented air felt damp to him.

  Her headlights cut across the stucco as she backed up and headed down the gravel drive to the highway.

  If the baby were a candidate for adoption . . . a quiet adoption . . . and the father turned out to be of merit . . .

  Maybe millions. Definitely he could get a couple of hundred grand for the right baby from the right parents—for the right parents.

  He’d have to look into her a bit more and start planting seeds. She was already fragile, he knew.

  Vulnerable. Questioning and worrying.

  It was almost too easy, how simple it was to tell them something. And the right ones, they always believed him. Always. Few had ever questioned.

  Nodding, he headed inside to pull up her file and make a phone call. She just might be their new ticket.

  • • •

  “Jareaux.”

  “This is Ella.”

  He sighed. “How can I help you today?”

  She frowned and leaned back into her couch. How could he help her? Was he serious?

  “Did you get my message?”

  Again he sighed. “I think so.”

  He thought so? She’d learned after “working” with the man for the last couple of months, that she really didn’t actually like him. He always acted like she was wasting his time. She opened her mouth, shut it then opened it again. “You think so?”

  She heard him inhale. “Look, Ella, the thing is, we need more than your worries or suppositions.”

  She blinked. “You didn’t get my message, did you?”

  If he had, surely he wouldn’t be blowing her off.

  �
�The one with a girl who went missing? Yes, I did. But as I’ve stated before, we need hard evidence. This girl, I ran her name, Natasha—”

  “Nadia.”

  “Yes, Nadia, and she’s basically a transient. She’s got a rap sheet and has been all over the place. There’s no way to know for certain that she’s actually missing.”

  “Except that she’s no longer at the Retreat.”

  She heard him shuffling papers on the other end.

  “Did you see someone accost her? Did you see or did anyone see what happened to her?” he asked, all calm and reason.

  She shook her head and thrummed her fingers on her growing belly. “A young woman is missing.”

  “So you think.”

  Pissed, she hung up the phone. So far there wasn’t anything concrete to pass on. She’d looked. It wasn’t like she could crack the computer files. She didn’t know the passwords and it wasn’t like she would be in the offices anyway.

  Her phone rang.

  Jareaux showed up on her screen. Screw him. He wouldn’t listen. He never listened. She’d talked to girls, to Fran, to Nadia, to others. There was a pattern. Women, usually young girls that had no one, went missing.

  How to prove that? She had no idea.

  Chapter 16

  Taos, September

  “No. No. No. You can’t have her. You can’t have her. She’s mine. She’s my daughter,” she said. Dark legs loomed out of the fog in front of her, and she scooted back, even as a hand reached for her.

  “Nooooo!”

  Ella jerked awake, a scream still caught in her throat. Her heart thundered against her ribs and in her ears. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She shivered and shook, her large T-shirt stuck to her back, her chest.

  A sob caught in her throat. Stupid. Stupid. Just a damned dream, but she was having them more often. Nightmares where someone was taking her baby away.

  She raked her trembling hands through her hair and rested her elbows on her up-drawn knees.

  She wished there was someone to talk to. So many things, so many worries, so much . . . She’d talked to Lisa, brought a few things up to Jareaux, but she wanted a best friend she could tell anything to. Her friends from before, back in New Orleans, seemed a world and lifetime away.