by Jaycee Clark
A flash went off as the crime scene tech did his bit. Another young man stood. “I’d appreciate it, Agent, if you didn’t speculate too much until I get tox screens back. Just because there are empty pill bottles does not mean they are in her system.”
Sabino rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dr. Bainer.”
“The doc on little sleep is as bad as my teenage daughters PMSing,” Hudson said.
Ian smiled and Sabino shook her head. “He’s right, though, shouldn’t speculate, but really seems overkill to me.” She stood and walked out of the bathroom, joining them.
She stepped into the hallway with them and motioned him over to a table where a laptop had already been dusted for prints, as has most things here in the town house. A fine layer of dust coated most every surface.
“How’d you find her?”
“Anonymous call. And look, there’s a note.” Sabino motioned to the laptop.
He shook his head. “Just missing a bow.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Got agents and the state boys going over her place again in Taos with a fine-toothed comb. Sent them out there as soon as we got the call here, and that was about three hours ago.”
Ian merely raised a brow.
Hudson grinned. “You didn’t really think we’d call you right off, did you?”
“I’ve shared everything we’ve found,” he said. “You should have called me earlier. I could have headed over to her house.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “How far is that again?”
She grinned. “Too far for you to go and look tonight, Mr. Kinncaid.”
“Call me Ian. There are too many Mr. Kinncaids.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, well, this time our guys are going over everything. Found a neat little hidey-hole in the floorboards of her closet. Flash drive, some discs, and a couple of folders. Our guys are looking over all of them now.”
“You need another tech guy? I’ve got a couple that are whizzes that could look at the drive and discs.”
She smiled. “Mine already has the flash drive, which is apparently encrypted. Don’t worry, he’ll get it solved. Probably within a day, or maybe we’ll be lucky and it’ll be by tomorrow afternoon.” She checked her watch. “I mean this afternoon. I swear the kid puts Red Bull in his Kurig. Maybe I should try that. Anyway, he’s at the hotel and already started on it.”
“Techies are just weird, great at figuring things out, but weird all the same,” Hudson said. “And they’re always twitchy. Like a crack addict waiting on another fix. Why is that?”
“Caffeine,” both she and Ian answered.
“What about the laptop?” he asked, motioning to it.
“I’ll get it to him as well. We’ll see what’s on it, but I’m doubting it will be anything like what she hid at her house.”
“Because it wasn’t hidden from whoever did this to her.”
She tilted her head.
“What else was there?”
“The files appear to be docs of adoptions, photos of babies and couples. No idea what’s on the disc or flash drive. I’ll ask Bull when I get back, see if he got to them yet. I told him the flash drive was priority though.”
He nodded and took a deep breath before he remembered not to and winced.
“Yeah, at least the heater was off, though. Small mercies and it’s not July,” Hudson offered with a grin.
True. Dead bodies and heat were not conducive to each other.
“Fine. I’d like to look around a bit more and then head back.”
“You want us to tell her about Lisa?” Sabino asked him.
He shook his head. “No, I will when they get up in the morning . . . this morning, later. When the hell ever. Probably won’t be long. She doesn’t sleep much,” he admitted, looking at the view and then back at the coffee table where the laptop set.
“Parents of missing kids never do, Kinncaid,” she said. “We’ll be over in the morning. Call me when she’s up, or text or whatever.” She handed him another card.
“I have your number and your partner’s.”
“And probably my boss’s, but here’s a card just in case someone else might need to call.”
He tucked it into his pocket.
One person down who could have told them where his niece was.
“By the way, thanks for the tip on the DeSaros. We’ve talked to their lawyer and to Mr. DeSaro. We haven’t been able to speak to Mrs. DeSaro as yet, or see the baby. We’ve had lots of leads to follow, call-ins. None have turned anything up. I’m getting a court order for the DeSaros in the morning, or at least as soon as the judge’s golf round is done.”
“Always waiting on someone.”
“Guess you don’t have to worry about that, do you?” she asked him.
He only grinned and walked out the door.
Chapter 32
Thursday morning
Ella opened her eyes, having dozed off earlier, but she couldn’t sleep. She looked at Quinlan lying there beside her, facing her. His arm lay across her abdomen, as though holding her. Quinlan always held her.
She remembered the first time they met. The way he’d been so handsome, so . . . him. Though pain and frustration had danced in his eyes. Then the way it had slowly melted away the longer they spent together. The way he’d look at her across the kitchen as they were cooking and then make passionate love. The twinkle he’d get in his eyes. The way his chuckle would dance over her skin. Her heart still tripped just looking at him, just as it did when they first met. How had she ever thought she could get through life without him? Why had she wanted to?
Oh yeah, not to get hurt.
Life without Quinlan hurt, she knew that. She’d already been through it and had no one to blame but herself.
He’d lost weight, she suddenly noticed. His cheekbones were more pronounced. Even in sleep he looked stressed. There were dark circles under his eyes. She lifted her hand to brush across them, but paused. His hair was longer than the last time he’d come to see her in New Orleans.
She remembered running her fingers through the silky burnished strands when they made love, while they sat out on the stoop reading while jazz floated out of the neighbor’s windows . . . the way the sun winked off the leaves as they walked to the market.
So fucking stupid, Ella, she thought. Why—who in their right mind walked away from this man?
Her head ached from her crying jag last night, and she still hadn’t eaten.
Carefully, she eased out from under his arm, wanting to lean over and kiss his cheek, to say what she didn’t even know how to begin saying.
But he’d had so little sleep, so little rest since he’d gotten here. He’d stayed with her at the hospital, paced the room and the living room too often.
No, she’d let him sleep. She climbed softly from the bed and grabbed an extra pillow and blanket, settling into the window seat. That didn’t last long either. Finally, she gave up and tiptoed out of their room to the living room.
Ella looked out the windowpanes of the balcony doors. She felt guilty for some reason for having left Quinlan sleeping in their room. He was so tired, and the dark circles under his eyes bothered her. He was never tired, not that she ever remembered, but then what did she know? She was so tired she could no longer think straight, but honestly? She didn’t sleep. Never slept. Her wrists hurt, and itched. Which was apparently a good sign. She thought about doing yoga, just some easy stretches to try and ease the tightness in her shoulders.
Someone cleared their throat.
She whirled around.
The dangerous one. He was tall, maybe the same height as Quin, and with his short black hair, constant two-day beard, he could pass as one of the locals in Taos. The not-quite-kempt look. At least until someone looked into his eyes. He lacked the laid-back, no-worries-dude look that the locals had down great. He was as polished as his brothers, or so he exuded, but his eyes saw more than most ever did. This one was cold. And he scared her.
“I didn’t mean to f
righten you,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
He kept his gaze on her after returning the carafe to the coffeemaker. “You’re up early.”
“So are you,” she said, not taking her eyes off him. Her muscles tightened and her skin felt like it was slowly shrink-wrapping to her frame.
“Late night.” He glanced to the hallway. “I should probably wait and tell you when Quin gets up.”
“Tell me what?” she asked.
“Nothing to do with the baby, not really. But . . .”
“Just tell me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, coming to stand beside her.
She didn’t know about that. He probably wouldn’t. After all, he was Quin’s brother, but still . . .
“The authorities found Lisa last night, early this morning.”
“Found her?” Relief slid through her. “What did she say? Did she tell you where—”
“She’s dead.”
The words fell between them and she just stared at him. “What?”
“She’s dead. And as such, she can’t help us.”
Dead. She shook her head. “Dead? How?”
He sighed. “Does it matter? She’s dead, so now, more than ever, I need your help. Quin needs your help. Your child needs your help,” he said, his voice low and gruff. Reminded her of gravel over dry leaves for some reason.
“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped.
“I don’t know, do you?” he asked.
She looked at him, not sure what to say, what to . . .
“Look, you were given a raw deal,” he said, leaning against the window ledge. “No one is arguing that. What my brother is pissed about, what the family will be pissed about, is that it could have been avoided if you hadn’t been stupid.”
She glared at him and took a step toward him. “You think I don’t know that either? You think I didn’t already figure that out by myself?”
“I don’t know if you have or haven’t. All you do is mope about and cry.”
She didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to . . . Before she’d realized it, she’d balled up her fist and hit him. His head snapped back.
He looked back at her, working his jaw. “Not too bad, you hit like a girl though. Hurt yourself doing it that way. My daughter could hit better than that.”
This time she punched him in the stomach, though she had the feeling he’d let her. He laughed. “Too easy. You’re way too easy to read. Cry like a girl, fight like a girl . . .”
Anger, hot and bright, scorched through her, igniting within her soul and heart. She hit him again, her breath coming hard and fast.
“Weak. You’re very weak, aren’t you? Couldn’t even save your own child.”
Rage engulfed her. Without warning he turned, pivoted, and had her trapped against him. She struggled, fought, screamed a fractured cry, and still she couldn’t get out of his hold.
“What the fuck is going on?” Quinlan asked.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” He whispered against her ear. “What you do? They’d have overpowered you. Stop blaming yourself, love. You want to fight, fight. I’ll help you, Quin will most assuredly help you, but at least fucking eat. Otherwise, you’re more a liability than an asset.”
She struggled, gasping, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. Her wrists burned where he held them in his grasp, her vision wavered. She fought, tried to get her arms free, but he had them crossed over her chest and pinned to her. “You can fight until you pass out, and then what happens?”
Quin ripped her away from Ian. Yells bounced off her eardrums, the ringing growing louder, and she realized she was panting, hyperventilating. Deep breath. In. Hold it. Hold it. Out. Again.
“Don’t you ever touch her like that again!” Quinlan yelled.
“I didn’t hurt her. She’s got a solid right hook.”
“Fuck you,” she bit out, as loud as she could—which was hardly more than a damned whisper.
Silence.
“What was that, love?” Ian asked, his voice tinged with laughter.
She pushed herself up from the floor by gripping the chair. Someone helped her but she shrugged them off. Who, she had no idea and didn’t care. Looking straight into his ice-cold stare, she said, “Fuck. You.”
“I don’t think my wife would approve, or my brother. Not sure which would kill us first.”
Without another word, she walked to the bedroom. She shut the door and locked it. She didn’t want to talk to any of them. Didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to hear what they had to say, or their damned questions.
She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to have to listen to more . . . more . . .
Why weren’t they out looking? Wasn’t that what Ian was supposed to be doing? He found things, Quin had told her. She’d told the cops everything she knew, again and again and again.
With a curse, she walked into the large master bath and turned the water on in the shower. She had a damned appointment today with an ob-gyn. Not her normal doctor. Because she didn’t trust anyone anymore out at the Nursery. No. Someone else would be checking things. Fine.
She gathered what she needed and shut and locked the bathroom door as well. She heard someone knock on the outer door, probably Quin, but she needed and wanted some time alone.
. . . All you do is mope about and cry.
Had she been moping?
. . . you’re more a liability than an asset . . .
He was right. She wasn’t helping.
She unwrapped her wrists and tossed the bandages in the trash. She moved her hands one way and then the other. As she let the almost scalding water beat down on her, Ian’s words circled around and around in her heard. Did he hate her? Blame her? Maybe.
Was he right?
Yes.
Yes, he was. Which pissed her off even more. She was moping, even if she’d been given a raw deal, as he’d said. She hadn’t stopped crying since she woke up in the hospital. Granted, the pregnancy book she’d read way back when said that was common and normal. Nothing about this whole situation could be termed normal and she hated to cry. She hadn’t been a big help to the authorities because she was just too numb. So what if she had to go over the same things again and again, maybe she’d remember something she hadn’t even known she’d forgotten.
The numbness had protected her. She’d been too scared. Too frozen to feel anything.
Until a little while ago.
She stuck her hands out. They still shook from fury.
. . . couldn’t even save your own child . . .
She’d tried. She’d fucking tried! Didn’t he know that?
Rage still pounded through her at his words. Bastard. Even she agreed with him. Fury he’d pulled out of her taunt by taunt. No less than the truth, what everyone surely thought, but didn’t dare say. He didn’t really care. Not that one. He’d do whatever had to be done. Whatever had to be done to get a baby Kinncaid back.
Whatever had to be done.
Even if he pissed her off to do it.
Quin had coddled her and she was glad, that’s what she needed from him. She’d wanted and needed a safe place, a haven, and Quin gave her that. He was her safe haven, God love that man.
His brother, though?
Ian.
She felt as if her head had broken the surface of a lake. No longer frozen, she wanted to get out. Wanted to hunt the bitch down that had put her in this place. This horrible, horrible, shell-shocked place, but Lisa was dead.
Her daughter was out there, and if someone had to be mean to her for her to pull her head out of her ass, then so be it.
She’d thank them.
She smiled. Quin’s brother might be an ass, but he got things done.
By the time she got out of the shower, exhaustion pulled at her. So damned tired all the time and she didn’t have time to be tired. She took care of matters and dressed in more yoga pants and a lo
ng-sleeved tee and a long sweater, pushing the sleeves up her forearms so they stayed off her wrists.
She towel-dried her hair and looked in the mirror.
“No more. No more hiding. No more whining. Whining gets nothing done.”
It was time to do. Something. Anything. Her eyes glittered back at her. Not since Lance had walked away from her had she wallowed. And this was no time to wallow. Now she needed to do. As her mother used to say: Just do what needs to be done.
Chapter 33
Ella took a deep breath and walked back into the bedroom. It was quiet. The sitting area was still messed up from where she’d been earlier with her pillow and blanket.
Raised voices filtered through the doorway. Didn’t matter. Not really.
She’d never hidden, never cowered before, why would she start now? Even with Lance she hadn’t fallen this far into bleakness. What the hell had happened to her?
They’d whittled her down, almost broken her, by God, had almost killed her.
She opened the door and strode out, tired to the marrow of her bones.
Quinlan stood with his arms crossed, glaring at his brother Ian. Aiden stood beside Quinlan, saying, “Not everyone is like you or Rori, Ian.”
“So?” Ian asked, calm as ever.
Man was irritating as hell.
“So?” Quinlan asked. His cane thumped as he walked to his brother. He rammed the cane into Ian’s chest. “She’s my wife. What the hell would you have done to any of us if we’d treated Rori that way?”
“Leave him alone,” she said, coming into the room. Not looking at any of them, she sat at the table, wanting to lay her head on it. “I’m fine.”
Someone snorted.
“All right,” she snapped, or tried. “I will be fine. When I find my daughter, I’ll be fine. After I’ve made them pay, I will be fine. Until then, I will tell whoever asks that I’m fine and if they don’t like it, too damned bad.”
No one said a word. She looked at Ian, caught the edge of his mouth kick up just a smidge. Aiden’s brows were raised. She had no idea where anyone else was. Finally, she looked at Quinlan. “I’m okay, Quin. He didn’t hurt me.”