The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  He’d narrowed his eyes at her, nodded and scribbled something on a paper on her chart. He was the only one who didn’t try to tell her what she’d seen.

  She remembered the scream. Remembered the voices and the masked figures beside the bed. And there was a vague memory of a baby’s cry.

  They’d finally let her go when she convinced them she needed to grieve at home, away from the place where her friend died.

  Ella knew she had to get out of there. Had to, but still the last few days she hadn’t felt well.

  She knew they wanted her baby. No one had ever come out and actually said that, and when she’d admitted her fear to Lisa, the doctors had talked her into speaking to the psychologist that came once a week to speak to the girls giving up their children.

  She hadn’t liked that doctor and she didn’t want to talk about the benefits of offering her child for adoption. Her fears, she’d been told, simply stemmed from her estrangement from her husband, from worrying that a man from a wealthy powerful family could sue in the courts for custody.

  She’d transferred her fear.

  Yeah, well, maybe that was a buried fear. But she’d learned, growing up where she had, that it was better to listen to that quiet voice inside. If Quinlan wanted to sue for custody then she’d cross that bridge, but right now she was more worried about the Nursery taking her child. The girls up there were so isolated, so alone, and the feds had dropped the ball.

  She’d left five voice messages on Jareaux’s phone after Fran had died, and he’d never called her back. She’d called him a lot to tell him of her worries. Mostly, he listened to her and told her not to worry, that they were building a case, it just wasn’t there yet. Then he just started to blow her off because she wasn’t getting him proof. He needed hard facts and evidence. But she hadn’t been able to give him that, not really. It was just little things that weren’t adding up.

  Proof. Always needed proof. She didn’t have any . . .

  Muscles tightened across her stomach and she winced. “Okay, okay, don’t worry, little one. Momma will figure something out.”

  Suddenly, tired and just wanting it all over, wanting justice for Fran as well, she realized Jareaux had never asked to meet her at his office. Always it was away from the office, some restaurant, some coffee shop, some park or museum. Never his office. He’d asked her early on to contact him on his cell.

  Granted, she hadn’t thought anything of contacting someone on their cell phone; after all, everyone had them, everyone carried them. A person was more likely to answer a cell phone.

  But now?

  Now she didn’t know who to trust. Who not to trust.

  She’d trusted him to help her. That had been a huge mistake, clearly.

  She grabbed Jareaux’s original card beside the charging station for her phone. Taking a deep breath, she called the office number where she’d left a call-back message before.

  “Hello? Hello?” someone said on the other end, and she realized she was lost in thought again.

  “Yes, hello, my name is Ella Ferguson Kinncaid. I was wondering if I could speak to someone in charge? I had been working with Agent Jareaux on the Nursery case and I would like to speak to someone else about it.”

  “I’m sorry, what case?” the other person asked.

  “The Nursery case. Missing babies, adoptions.” She sighed and rubbed the base of her spine. Maybe she shouldn’t be calling the office, but damn it, the man dragged her into this. Someone was going to help fix this.

  There was a pause, silence, and then, “Who did you say you were again?”

  “Ella Ferguson Kinncaid. I’ve called before and left messages for him to return my calls but he’s apparently a very busy man.”

  Again a pause, and then the woman said, “Would you hold please? For just a second?”

  Ella didn’t even get a chance to say yes or no before the elevator music came on.

  She listened to . . . jazz . . . made her homesick. God, she missed New Orleans, the heavy air, the scents, the music, the vibe.

  The vibe here was different. It seemed fun and fresh in the beginning, but now it just suffocated.

  Finally the line clicked. “Hello, this is Special Agent Sabino, can I help you, Ms. Kinncaid, is it?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe. I’m just tired of getting brushed off by Agent Jareaux after he roped me into this mess.”

  The woman cleared her throat. “Jareaux? Which case was it again?”

  “God, don’t you people talk? The Nursery case, the missing babies. I told him, I tried and he doesn’t listen anymore because I couldn’t get him any hard evidence.”

  “Okay, calm down.”

  “Calm down? He asked for my help and then brushed me off when I didn’t help him quickly enough or some crap. A girl, a young woman is dead, I don’t care what they say. You can figure it out. They keep the babies, and I think they killed her.”

  “Ma’am? Slow down.”

  But she didn’t want to slow down. She just wanted to leave. “I’m leaving. He can find his own damned evidence.”

  “Ma’am. Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, perhaps you could explain this case to me?”

  The words gave her pause. Maybe it was the emphasis on this case, the slight rise of tone at the words, as though they were more of a question themselves rather than part of the question as a whole.

  “Agent Sabino, was it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m tired. I’m tired, I’m pregnant, and I know they are going to take my baby, just like they did Fran’s, just like they probably did the others. The Nursery may honestly help people, but they hurt others.”

  “You fear for yourself right now? Has someone threatened you?”

  She shook her head. “Not in those words, no, but . . . but . . . I know. I know they’re lying.”

  She remembered the blood . . .

  And why did Sabino sound as if . . . “You don’t know about the case, do you?” she asked softly. Then anger licked hot and fast through her. “Was there ever a case on the Nursery of Dreams? Was Agent Jareaux ever—”

  “Don’t worry about Agent Jareaux. Why don’t you come—”

  “Forget it. Forget all of you. Clean up your own messes. I’m out of here.”

  With that she disconnected, even as Agent Sabino’s “Mrs. Kinncaid, wait!” echoed.

  Her hands shook. So damned stupid. So stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Oh God, what the hell did she do?

  Her hands trembled. She just wanted Quinlan. She wanted him.

  From memory she tapped in his number and waited . . .

  “Hello?” his voice answered.

  She just stood there beside her bag . . . She licked her lips, cleared her throat. “Quinlan?”

  “Ella?”

  Tears filled her eyes and trickled down. How was she ever going to make this right? His voice, his calm deep voice anchored her. How could she be so damned stupid?

  “Oh, thank God . . .”

  • • •

  She hung up the phone. He was coming. He was coming out here.

  She smiled, wiped a tear as his last words echoed in her very being, “ . . . I’ll be there soon.”

  He was pissed. She heard it in his voice, so tight, so controlled. So much to tell him. But he was coming. He was flying out now. She’d do whatever it took to make this right.

  Lisa knocked on the door again. “Hey! Open up, El.”

  Patting her belly, she said, “Just a bit longer, darlin’. Hang on just a bit longer. Then you can come and meet your daddy. He’s coming to help us.”

  Smiling, she opened the door. “Hey! Guess what?”

  “I don’t know.” Lisa glanced around, saw the bags and asked, “Where are you off to?” She motioned to the bags sitting in the entryway.

  For a moment, she kept the words behind her teeth, but then, “I’m done. I’m going to D.C. or will be. I was, but Quinlan’s coming out here. I just got off the phone w
ith him.”

  For a moment, her friend, her only friend here, just looked at her. Then Lisa blinked her big blue eyes and smiled. “Really? And what brought this on? I thought you guys weren’t speaking.”

  Ella shrugged. “You know me. Impulsive.”

  Lisa stepped in and said, “So he’s coming? Now? This elusive husband of yours?”

  Ella couldn’t hold in the smile or the laughter. “Oh yes. He’s most definitely coming. He’ll be here in a few hours.”

  “Well, either way, this is a reason to celebrate. Let’s have a cup of tea. It’s important for you to stay hydrated, you know. When did all this happen?” Her friend moved into the kitchen and grabbed two mugs, two herbal tea bags from the white cabinets above the sink. “And have you been using the tea I gave you this week?”

  “Um . . . actually, no. I mean . . . I haven’t . . . the tea. Yes, I’ve taken the tea twice a day, Nurse Bossy.”

  Her friend just leveled a look at her. “I’m glad he’s coming out here. He should be a part of all this, Ella. After your episode, you know you need to take it easy. High blood pressure during pregnancy is not to be taken lightly. Maybe he can make you slow down.”

  She popped the mugs in the microwave.

  Ella twisted her fingers and tried to relax. “We’ll see. I doubt he’ll be easy about this all but he is coming. I’m happy and yes, I’m watching my blood pressure and it’s up a little, but nothing like it was.”

  “As long as he knows you don’t need any added stress, Ella. The doc’s really concerned about your blood pressure.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  Her friend arched a brow and only hummed.

  Why wasn’t Lisa more excited for her?

  “Look, Lisa, it’s not really any of your business, you know. It’s my marriage.”

  Lisa held up her hand. “Honey, I’m your friend. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. He never wrote you back, he didn’t tell his family for almost two months, and I just think . . .”

  For some reason, she lied. “Well, he’s excited about the baby, thrilled and he’s flying out here tonight. Right now, as a matter of fact. Should be here in four or five hours.”

  The microwave dinged and Lisa took the mugs out, then she turned to the sink and added cold water to one of them. Her friend did know her because Ella hated hot tea.

  Ella sat down on the couch. “Please be happy for me. We’re going to be a family. He’s so excited.”

  “And why didn’t he come after you wrote the letters? Or answer them? You said he had your email? Even if you changed your phone number, he still could’ve gotten in touch with you.”

  Ella rubbed her stretched stomach and felt an answering elbow or knee press across her palm. “We both made mistakes, Lisa. We want to work it out. We’re excited. He’s excited.”

  Again, a lie, and though she trusted Lisa, Lisa still had ties to the Nursery. Maybe it would get back to whomever to just leave her alone.

  “Of course he is.” Lisa handed her the warm mug. “Now, drink your tea and I’ll go. Or rather, I’ll help you get anything here ready because you just don’t know how to take it easy, Ella.”

  She just wanted Lisa to leave. Sipping her tea, she wished Lisa hadn’t stopped by. Her phone trilled out its notes and buzzed from the countertop where she’d plugged it in while talking to Quinlan. It was probably him calling back. He’d worry if she didn’t answer soon.

  Ella shook her head and took a big drink of tea. “Don’t worry so much. I’m good. I’ll rest until he calls for me to pick him up at the airport.” She licked her lips. “Though maybe I should run to the store.”

  They chatted while they drank but something . . .

  Her phone rang again. “I need to get that, thanks for checking on me. It’s probably Quinlan.” Ella shook her head, suddenly dizzy.

  “Something’s wrong,” she muttered. Or thought she did. Her tongue felt funny. She tried to stand up, but weaved and fell back onto the couch.

  “Oh, dear. That was quick. Don’t move just yet, honey,” Lisa’s voice floated along her eardrums . . .

  “No . . .” She shook her head. Felt someone take her arm. “No . . .”

  They’d take her baby.

  She blinked and tried to focus and saw Lisa’s clear blue eyes narrowed down at her.

  “No, please . . .”

  “Won’t be long,” she thought she heard.

  “Quinlan . . .”

  Lisa’s laughter floated on the air, mixing with the ringing phone, and then was swallowed.

  • • •

  The pain woke her.

  She gasped and tried to wrap her arms around her stomach, trying to hide, trying to protect . . .

  Her arms didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Why couldn’t she . . .

  She blinked and tried to focus as images wavered and blurred before her. God, her head hurt.

  “There you are. I was worried I’d given you too much,” the voice said, floating down a tunnel to her ears.

  Things were fuzzy . . . so fuzzy . . . but the pain.

  Oh God.

  Talons bit into the base of her spine, wrapped around her abdomen and squeezed. She cried out.

  “You always, always know when the Pitocin kicks in, don’t you?” Lisa’s voice warbled and it took Ella a moment to understand the words.

  Her hands. She jerked but they didn’t move. She twisted and pulled.

  “Now, be still.” Lisa’s voice floated somewhere from above her. Somewhere far above and yet right beside her. The light pierced her eyes and stabbed against the pain in her head. So bright.

  “I don’t want the IV coming out again.”

  The voice sounded so normal, but none of this was normal.

  Was she in the hospital? What happened? Why couldn’t she remember?

  “Have to . . .” She licked her chapped lips. “ . . . to . . . leave . . .”

  She needed to leave. She’d tried to leave. She remembered packing . . .

  Where was she? She couldn’t really see beyond the lights.

  Pain built again, tightening not just her abdomen but also across her thighs. It wasn’t time.

  Wasn’t time yet.

  She wasn’t due for another month almost.

  Oh God.

  Humming, someone was humming Handel. Lisa.

  The room swam in and out of focus. She screamed as another contraction ripped through her.

  “I know it’s intense, but you’re ready. You’re already dilated and have been for the last week and effaced. I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

  There was a slight swish and whoosh . . . like water. Swish. Whoosh. She’d heard it before. It was like . . . like the . . .

  Baby’s heartbeat.

  “Please,” she said again.

  “Please what?” Lisa asked. “I have to go see about a few things, but don’t worry, I’ll be back. We’ll see then how far along you are.”

  The woman she thought was her friend, dressed in bright stupid cheery scrubs, walked out the door, closing it behind her with a quiet snick.

  Ella jerked and jerked again. Her hands and feet were bound. She couldn’t move.

  No. No. No. This was not happening, this couldn’t be happening. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Things were going to be different. Quinlan was coming. He’d been calling her phone. He was flying out here to Taos. To her. To them. He’d been upset, of course, she’d heard that in his voice. But he’d called her wife. Called her Mrs. Kinncaid. He’d told her not to worry, that he’d be there, that he’d help.

  He’d help her. Help her keep their daughter safe.

  Pain pulsed through her wrists but she kept working at them. Gritting her teeth, she raised her head and looked down at her right wrist. An eyebolt, about waist level, was sticking out of the light wooden bed frame. A zip tie was threaded through and secured her wrist.

  No. No.

  She shook her head back and forth. Oh God, what did she do? Wha
t did she do?

  Think. She had to think. No, this wasn’t happening.

  She strained and pulled, jerked and twisted her arms and hands. The ties burned, her muscles trembled, and still she couldn’t get free.

  Leaning her head back, she screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat hurt.

  “Help! Please God, someone help! Help me, please!” she begged. And still she yelled and screamed more, hoping someone would hear her, help her. Help them.

  She’d waited too long. Too long to get away . . .

  Jareaux’s voice swam through her mind . . . Help us find the evidence . . . Evidence of what they were doing.

  Evidence of the births with no records, evidence of adoptions not meant to be, of the wrongness of it all.

  She wasn’t stupid. She’d never really been stupid about anything other than Quinlan.

  Quinlan.

  No. No! She had been so close to being safe, to seeing Quin and telling him everything, of begging for his forgiveness . . . So close, so damned close.

  Another pain started to build.

  “Please!” she screamed. “Somebody help me! Please, help me!” Again, she screamed and screamed until her throat was dry and her neck hurt. Still she couldn’t move, couldn’t get the zip ties to loosen no matter how damned hard she strained and pulled.

  They, the Nursery, were not going to do this to her. To her baby, her family.

  This was an adoption agency. She knew what they would do. What they’d done before.

  If the children were already slated for adoption? The money already taken from prospective families and then the mother changed her mind?

  Hundreds of thousands.

  She’d bet more. Jareaux never actually told her, but it had to be.

  That was a lot of reasons to want her out of the way.

  There was a clinic here in Taos. Is that where she was? Jareaux knew of the clinic. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

  She narrowed her gaze and tried to focus. The wall swam from blurry to vivid. A regular wall with an older door, like a closet? Looking up, she realized the ceilings were higher than normal. Where was she? This wasn’t a clinic. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The medicinal scents she was used to were the first she picked up, but she also smelled dust and . . . and . . . mildew?