Where There's Hope_A Well Paired Novel

by Marianne Rice

  Coffee wouldn’t solve anything, but it would keep him alert, and hopefully help him brainstorm ideas, anything that would bring them closer to finding Delaney.

  All night he’d racked his mind for any memory of a familiar face, of being followed, or being watched. The theater and streets were crowded with people. Some may have looked sketchy, but no one who paid much attention to them.

  Why? Why would anyone take Delaney, and how did he not hear her scream? Why didn’t anyone on the streets call for help if they saw her being dragged away?

  The police had tracked down Bethany and her family, and they said they never saw Delaney. They’d been in the general area of the store at three o’clock but never talked with her.

  Cameron took four mugs down from the cabinet and filled them. He heard the front door open and the low murmur of voices. Ty and Mia. Taking down two more mugs, he set them on the counter and filled the pot with more water. They’d need a lot of coffee to get through today.

  “I take it there’s been no news?” Ty asked, setting down a bag of bagels on the counter.

  Cameron shook his head. “I’m going back down to Portland. Hope will want to come, but I think it’s better if she stays here.”

  “I agree. I held off on telling her parents until this morning. Wanted to make sure Rich was stable. My parents will be over in a bit as well.”

  “Good. She needs to be surrounded by people she loves.”

  They stared at the coffee pot as it slowly filled. When another knock sounded on the front door, he and Ty picked up two mugs each and went to check on everyone.

  Two police officers stood in the doorway, and Hope gasped. “Delaney?”

  “She hasn’t been found yet, ma’am. Portland police are doing everything in their power to find your daughter.”

  Cameron handed the mugs of coffee to Mia and stood behind Hope, rubbing her shoulders.

  “Is Cameron Smithfield here?” the older officer asked.

  Everyone looked to Cameron. He’d told the police everything he knew but hoped they’d found another clue.

  “Yeah. That’s me. I’m heading back down to Portland to meet with the detectives again.”

  “We’ll give you a ride,” the young, scrawny officer said, stepping toward him, holding out a pair of handcuffs. “Cameron Smithfield, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Delaney Windward.”

  Gasps were echoed through the living room.

  “Excuse me?” Cameron’s heart stopped beating. His blood turned cold at the familiar, unsettling look on the officer’s face. The same expression Deputy Lokeski gave him when arresting him for the murder of his brother. The young officer getting his thrills by taking down a rich guy and putting him in his place.

  Only Cameron wasn’t rich and was completely innocent. Again.

  “You have the right to remain silent.”

  “You’re completely off base here.” He glared at both officers, enraged at their false accusations. “I had nothing to do with her disappearance. She’s out there with some criminal, and you’re pointing the finger at me? I’m not your guy.” He cringed at the irony, although he wasn’t a criminal. Tried and accused as one, yes, but he wasn’t.

  “We have a witness who claims you hired someone to take Miss Windward,” the scrawny guy said. The older officer cleared his throat and motioned to the handcuffs. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.”

  Cameron didn’t resist the arrest as the cuffs were hooked around his wrists and clamped tight around them. He turned to Hope, and her wide, scared eyes said it all.

  She doubted him.

  Believed the lies.

  Thought him guilty.

  There was nothing he could do besides hang his head and walk out the door and get in the back of the cruiser.

  The steel biting into the flesh around his wrists didn’t hurt nearly as much as the suspicion he read in Hope’s face.

  The two-hour drive to Portland was silent, sans the random chatter on the police scanner. Cameron tuned it out and leaned his forehead against the cold glass window, watching as they sped past trees and cars on the turnpike.

  Losing his brother, being charged with his murder, and the rejection of his family didn’t burn nearly as much as the doubt he read in Hope. If she loved him, truly loved him, she would’ve defended him. Yelled at the officers for being idiots and for focusing their energy on the wrong guy.

  But she didn’t.

  The case wouldn’t hold against him. He had a solid alibi and plenty of witnesses as to his whereabouts. A law student would be able to get him out. Unless his father was behind all of this.

  He lifted his head from the window and clenched his teeth. If Thomas found out Delaney was Justin’s, he’d want her in his life. Well, not in his life, but under his authority. Yet there was no way he would’ve found out about Hope and Delaney unless he’d had Cameron followed.

  His heart thumped loudly in his chest until his blood boiled. His mother had seen the Nutcracker the day before. She knew. It was her. Him. Them. But how could Cameron accuse a highly respected Connecticut judge of kidnapping? He was a convicted criminal with no ties to his family anymore. Who would believe his story?

  His parents had Delaney. As ludicrous as it sounded, they had to be involved.

  Or maybe not his dad. Thomas wouldn’t want to dirty his hands with a child and the possibility of scandal. But his mom. She’d looked scared and pale when he saw her on Saturday. Granted, she’d always had the scared puppy face and walked on eggshells, worried about stepping out of line under Thomas Smithfield’s command.

  Janice would want a granddaughter. Especially Justin’s. Maybe living alone with Thomas for so long, with one son buried and the other behind bars, gave her the courage to do something so brash.

  Like kidnap her granddaughter.

  It was his only lead, and he’d follow it as soon as he got released.

  Unfortunately, paperwork and politics held him up longer than he hoped. It wasn’t until the following day, after his court-appointed attorney laughed at the ridiculous charges that held no merit, and showed the surveillance camera footage that got him out.

  Relatively speaking. Cameron was stuck in Portland with no truck and no ride. The only numbers he had programmed in his cell were Hope’s and his boss’. Not wanting to hear the accusation in her voice, he called Dwayne and asked him to look up a number for him.

  Ten minutes later he had the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Ty, it’s Cameron.” He waited for a response. A long, drawn -ut patch of silence filled the other end of the phone. The voices in the background grew more faint until there was nothing but steady breathing on the other end. “I’m hoping you’ll hear me out. For Delaney. For Hope.”

  “Go on.”

  Cameron dropped to the park bench and rested his elbows on his knees. “I think I know where Delaney is, and I need your help getting her back.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I had nothing to do with her kidnapping. I know my word means nothing to you.” And apparently to Hope either. He pushed the sorrow, the loss of something wonderful in his life, away and focused on getting Delaney back. “It may be farfetched, but it’s the only thing I can come up with.”

  “You still locked up?”

  “No. I’m out. Stranded in Portland. The lawyer showed surveillance camera footage from the store and streets.”

  “Did it pick up any images of who took her?”

  Good. He was listening and hopefully believing him. “Yes and no. Someone, man or woman, it was hard to tell with the hat, scarf, and bulky jacket, was talking with Delaney, and she went willingly with him. Or her.”

  “Your thoughts?”

  “The police still have me as a person of interest. Claim I staged it and know where she is.”

  “Is this true?”

  “No. However, I may know where she is. Can I count on you? We need to get moving if my theory i
s right.”

  “I’m already on my way. I’ll call when I’m close.”

  The call went silent, and Cameron pocketed his phone.

  He didn’t ask Ty how many traffic violations he broke to get to Portland so fast. When he pulled up outside a McDonalds and Cameron hopped in the truck, Ty kept his eyes forward and said low and calm, “I know how to kill a man with my bare hands. If I find out you had anything to do with Delaney’s kidnapping, or if you do anything to hurt Hope, you’ll be joining your brother six feet under in three seconds flat.”

  “I’m grateful Hope and Delaney have protective friends and family in their life. You want to get on ninety-five south. We’re going to Connecticut.” Cameron buckled his seatbelt. “And I should probably let you know I’ve been ordered to stay close and not cross state lines. If we find Delaney, though, it will be worth going back to jail.”

  Ty stepped on the gas and listened to Cameron’s theory as they drove south. When they neared Darien, there was no sense of sentiment, no longing to be part of the community where he grew up. The town looked the same yet he felt no familiarity. Ty slowed the truck as they drove past the Smithfield residence.

  “Nice place.”

  “If you like ostentatious.”

  “You really think your mom took her?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all I have to go on. Why else would she be in Portland? And alone?”

  As planned, Ty headed back into town and got out at a bistro so Cameron could take the truck.

  “I’ll get a feel for things at the house. See what my mom is up to.”

  “No Rambo missions. You get the feeling Delaney’s in danger, you come get me. We’ll search the place together.”

  “I won’t make any sudden moves.” Hope would laugh at that. If she’d ever talk to him again. If he could bear to see the accusatory squint in her eyes.

  Cameron drove slowly, careful not to break any speed limits, and parked the truck in his parents’ driveway. It was four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. His father would be in court, his mother home or at the garden club. He hadn’t a clue what she did during the day. He didn’t know back when he was a kid and he sure the hell didn’t know now.

  The woman must have been bored out of her mind.

  Like a stranger, he rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. Finally, the door opened and a plump maid greeted him.

  “May I help you—” she paused, as if recognizing him. Covering her mouth, she stepped back into the grand foyer and gasped. “Mrs. Smithfield,” she called, backing further into the house.

  He wasn’t sure if he’d be recognized by the help. Most likely not as himself, but probably mistaken as Justin, back from the dead. Similar to how Hope first viewed him. He hadn’t expected so much anger from her, but enjoyed the look of shock on the maid’s face.

  Not much had changed in the house. The marble curved staircase still took up the front foyer, the same ugly statue in the corner. His father had bought it when in Italy. Apparently, it was worth a fortune. Cameron never cared and had been tempted too many times in his teenage years to accidentally throw a football at it or something.

  He resisted the temptation to peek into his father’s office. The over-sized mahogany door was shut as always. Locked too, he’d bet. The living room or parlor or sitting room, or whatever the hell they called it on the left, had been redecorated. White furniture. White uncomfortable looking couches. Navy walls and gold lamps. The dark hardwood looked nice, though. Better than the white carpet that was there before.

  He heard heels clicking on the hardwood floor and recognized his mother. Her face wasn’t as ashen as it was a few days ago. She’d lost weight over the years, and her eyes were even more sad than they’d been when he was growing up.

  “Mother.”

  “Cameron.” Her eyes darted to his left, to his right, up the stairs, as if expecting Thomas to magically appear and discipline her for talking to him.

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Oh.” She clutched at the sleeves of her gray suit coat. Her matching pants and pumps completed the outfit. Stuffy rich wife with pearls in her ears and around her neck. Just lounging around in her duds.

  “It’s been a while.”

  Janice nodded, her body stiff and unmoving. No welcome home hug. No longing look in her eyes like she’d missed her son. No love. If she hadn’t said his name, he wouldn’t have known she even remembered him.

  “You keeping busy?” Been to Maine recently? He wanted to ask.

  “Yes.”

  Well, this was titillating conversation. He needed to get her to open up but she already looked so spooked, as if she was hiding something. Delaney.

  “I’ve been well. Have a job. A...life.” He didn’t know if he had a girlfriend anymore. Hope’s faith in him was lost. Without that, he wasn’t sure they could have a relationship. “I’m living up in Maine now. It’s pretty.”

  She blinked rapidly; a slight color stained her cheeks.

  “I like Connecticut.”

  “You should visit sometime.”

  “You killed my son. Why would I want to visit you?” Her words would’ve had more bite to them if there was any conviction in her voice. Instead, she sounded like a robot, repeating words she didn’t necessarily believe.

  “Does Thomas let you out much?” If he set her off she may reveal something, show her hand. But he had to tread carefully.

  “I stay busy.”

  “I bet it’s lonely around here without Justin and me.”

  Janice covered her mouth with her hand, wrinkles and age spots evident on her skin. Time hadn’t been good to her. She was too young to look so old. Her three-carat diamond hung loosely on her finger, shining in the bright lights of the crystal chandelier above.

  “You never wanted to keep in touch?” Cameron kept his hands in his coat pockets, not wanting to approach her or scare her, just rile her up a bit.

  “I’m...busy.” She turned her back on him and moved toward the library. He followed her, watching her hand graze across a stack of books as if she was deciding which one to read. She picked up a burgundy hardcover and settled into one of the stuffy swing chairs.

  “Too busy for your son. Maybe someday I’ll get married. Have kids. Are you saying you don’t want to be a part of your grandchildren’s lives either?”

  Janice startled and looked over her shoulder and out the window toward the backyard. The guesthouse.

  Bingo.

  “Why do you let him control you like this?” Janice ignored him and opened the book in her lap. “You’re but a shell of a woman. You didn’t come see me in prison because he wouldn’t let you. You buried one son but still had another living, behind bars, but still living.”

  He approached her, standing only a few feet away. She cowered as if afraid, and he stepped back. “You’ve given up your entire life for him. You’ve neglected your children because he said to. You could’ve left him. Justin and I would’ve stayed with you. Protected you. Even when you gave up on me, I still believed in you. You were my mom.”

  Were. As in past tense. Now she was simply Janice Smithfield.

  She toyed with her pearls, her fingers slipping as if too weak to run along her necklace. Her mouth quivered yet didn’t open, not even a fraction of an inch. Nervous eyes darted about the room at rapid speed as if she was on something.

  Cameron swallowed through the lump in his throat. During the first few years behind bars, he imagined his mother coming to visit him. He played out conversations they’d have a hundred times.

  Only she never came. Now, with his mother only a few feet away from him, he didn’t know what to say. He had no planned speech. So he spoke from the heart.

  “I had to start living for myself. When I realized you were never coming for me, that you never believed in me, I had to let you go. I’m not angry at you. I’m sad for you. Prison may have been the best thing for me. I used that time to learn about myself. To become a
man I’d be proud of.”

  Janice closed her eyes and lowered her head, her body sinking into the chair.

  “You’ve been living in this prison for nearly your entire life and made the choice to accept it. I didn’t. I wasn’t willing to risk my life at the hands of others. I’m sorry you don’t have the strength to do this on your own. Had you come to me before, I would’ve helped you. But now.” He swallowed and backed away. “It’s too late.”

  The swelling in his throat and pit in his stomach made it nearly impossible to find his way back to the front door. When he climbed into Ty’s truck, he didn’t waste any time peeling out of the driveway.

  His focus became clearer as he crossed town. Delaney was in the guesthouse, he was sure. His mother wouldn’t do anything to harm her, but he needed to get her out of there quickly. Janice Smithfield was on the verge of a mental breakdown. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight, and he couldn’t risk Delaney getting caught in the crossfire.

  “Is she there?” Ty asked as he got into the truck.

  “Yeah. The guesthouse out back.”

  “Is she tied down? Locked up? What kind of situation are we getting into? We should call backup.”

  Cameron hadn’t forgotten about Ty’s military background, but he didn’t think it was needed. “I’m pretty sure she’s safe. My mom. She’s...not mentally sound. I don’t know what she did or who she got to help her, but I’m worried about her just as much as I am about Delaney.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom, but Delaney is my first priority.”

  “Mine too.”

  He explained the layout of the property, the guesthouse, the neighbors. There hadn’t appeared to be much security around the house, which was a little comforting. Once they formulated the plan, they switched positions in the truck, Ty behind the wheel and Cameron in the passenger’s seat, ready to jump out before the house.

  Ty parked the truck on the road, somewhat hiding behind the front gate so the housekeeper wouldn’t recognize it, and went to the front door pretending to be a salesman. Meanwhile, Cameron snuck down the edge of the property toward the guesthouse.