Amy reached over to take Heather’s hand. “Help us find Raine, Heather. What can you tell us about Grant? Anything you can think of will help us track him down.”
Heather tried to think past the pain squeezing her chest. Was this what death felt like? “H-He’s in his early thirties, I think. Blond hair and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. He always wears polos and khakis with deck shoes. He said he lived in Atlantic City, but I bet that’s not true either.” Bitterness laced her words, and she suddenly wished she had a gun. She’d track him down and shoot him in his black heart.
“Not much to go on,” Sheriff Bourne said.
Heather reached for her phone. “Wait, I have a picture. He’d kill me if he knew I took it, but I just wanted to have something to look at when we were far apart.” She called up the photos and whipped through them to find the one she wanted. “Here.” She passed it to the sheriff, who looked at it and nodded.
“I’ll see if we can find a match.”
“Can I see it?” Amy and Curtis asked at the same time.
Sheriff Bourne shrugged, then handed the phone to Curtis, who stared at it and shook his head. Curtis offered it to Amy.
She took one look and gasped. “I know this man. He was a friend of my brother’s. His real name is Grant Davidson. He lives in Washington DC.”
The sheriff was scribbling things in his notebook. “We’ll find him.”
THIRTY-TWO
The house had been close and hot all night. When dawn came, Amy was still wide-awake, so she got out of bed and grabbed her gear. She had to lose herself in the cold sea, to talk to God in the ocean. The sea was cold and gray this morning, much like she felt inside. Plunging into the chilly water, she cried and raged at this turn of events as she clung to her board and let the sea carry her to and fro.
Why, God, why? You have to be with her. Keep her safe. Help us find her today. We can’t go on without her.
Finally spent, she let the foam carry her to the sand where she lay exhausted and broken. The sun had come up half an hour ago, but pink and orange still tinted the eastern sky. Clouds piled high to the south as a predicted storm headed this way.
She pulled off her hoodie and inhaled the scent of sea and salt, then cut through the maritime forest to her house. Her feet kicked up the scent of pine. Her skin was cold as she approached her house. The first few drops of rain hit her face as she stepped onto the back porch. The first thing she grabbed as she came in the door was her cell phone in case Curtis had called with news, but there were no messages.
“Is that you, Amy?” her mother’s voice called from the living room.
Amy stopped and took a deep breath. They’d gotten up early if they were here already, though it was a relatively short flight in her father’s private plane. “It’s me, Mom. Just got in from surfing.” She was not ready to deal with them.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floors, and her mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with Amy’s father behind her. Her mother’s hair was perfectly coiffed, and she wore slim white capris and a red-and-white top. Her father had his hands in the pockets of his khakis. They didn’t even look all that worried. Amy bet they’d slept perfectly fine all night. They’d awakened with the alarm and come up as if it were a vacation.
“Look at you,” her mother scolded. “Your face is red from the cold water, and you’ve lost weight. And you should be here monitoring the phone in case the kidnapper calls. Your father brought a suitcase full of cash in case there’s a ransom demand.” Her tone indicated she expected high praise for their planning.
Amy grabbed the towel she’d left on the back of a chair and dried her hair with it. “If the kidnapper calls, he’ll phone Curtis or his parents, not me.”
Her father bristled. “I have more money than the Irelands.”
“It’s not that well known who Raine’s father is. After all, even we didn’t know.” Tossing the towel back onto the chair, Amy went to pour coffee. “Want a cup? It’s Toomer’s. And how about breakfast?”
Her mother went to the cupboard and pulled out two more mugs. “How could you even be out surfing at a time like this?”
Amy poured cream in her coffee before answering. “I didn’t sleep all night. I prayed while I was in the water, and I think I can deal with the day now.”
To her surprise, her mother’s face softened. Mary Lang was not known for her compassion, not even for her children, but something this horrific made a dent even in her brisk manner.
She put her hand on Amy’s shoulder. “We’re here to help now.” She handed a cup of coffee to her husband. “Your phone rang and I answered it. The nurse assumed I was you and told me your CA-125 was 10.”
Amy closed her eyes and exhaled. Thank you, God. But her usual elation was missing. There was no joy in anything with Raine missing. What difference did it make if Amy lived another fifty years or not when that darling baby was missing? Worrying about something like her cancer returning was no way to live when there were more important things in the world. She wasn’t going to do it anymore.
“That’s good,” Amy said.
“I’ve contacted a private investigator as well,” Oliver said. “He’ll be here later this morning.”
Amy wasn’t sure why the announcement made her tense, but she feared that the more people who got involved, the farther the kidnapper might run. “I have something to show you.”
She pulled out a chair at the table and reached for her notebook. She’d spent all evening jotting down everything she could remember about Grant Davidson. It wasn’t much, but her father might know more.
She pushed the paper in front of him. “Recognize the name Grant Davidson?”
Her father’s brow furrowed. “Sure. What’s he got to do with this?”
“He’s the one who took Raine.”
Her mother gasped. “That’s a very serious accusation to make against someone like Grant. I suppose Curtis put the notion in your head.”
Amy frowned. “Curtis had nothing to do with it. The girl who took Raine, Heather Granger, identified him. She called him from jail, and he told her that he had all he wanted from her. Where can we find him?”
Her father pulled out his phone and touched the Contacts icon. “Preston Kendrick will know. I’ll call him.”
“Preston? Why would he know? The last I heard, Grant was a financial consultant with a big firm in DC.”
“Preston brought him on to be the state finance chairman. I hear he’s done a great job so far.”
Amy reached for her cell phone. “I have to tell Sheriff Bourne. You call Preston and get the contact information.”
Her father’s hand closed over hers. “You can’t implicate Preston’s staff this way. It could affect the campaign.”
She jerked her hand away. “Then it affects the campaign! I will do anything and everything to get Raine back. The campaign is the least of our worries right now.”
“You don’t even know if she’s Ben’s daughter yet.”
Amy gaped at her mother. “Do you hear what you just said? I don’t care if Raine is or isn’t Ben’s child. She’s a year old, and she’s been stolen from her family, no matter what family she belongs to. We have to find her—right away!”
“Of course, of course,” her mother soothed. “But your father is right. Don’t do something we’ll all regret.”
“I won’t regret it.” Amy rose and slipped out the back door onto the porch, where she sank into a wicker chair. She couldn’t believe her parents. They were not helping her stress level. She placed the call to the sheriff’s cell phone. Tom promised to contact the senator’s staff and see where Grant could be found.
She heard the doorbell through the open screen door and hopped up, hoping it was Curtis. When she stepped into the kitchen, she heard Curtis’s deep voice in the living room. Her father was offering his sympathy when she joined them. A little different from what he and her mother had just been saying.
“I have news,” she said when he
directed a smile her way. “My father said that Grant works for Preston Kendrick.”
Curtis’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. What a lucky break! He’ll be easy to find, probably right at campaign headquarters. You called Tom?”
She nodded. “He’s on it.” She glanced at her father. “Did you get hold of Preston?”
He shook his head. “But I spoke with Zoe. She was going to find Preston and get Grant’s address and phone number for me. She was horrified.”
Curtis dropped into the chair by the fireplace. The skin under his eyes was dark, and she was sure he hadn’t slept last night either. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure.” His eyes glistened. “I prayed all night that she wasn’t afraid and that whoever had her was taking good care of her.” He took off his do-rag and ran his hand over his still-damp hair. “Maybe this nightmare will be over today and she’ll be safely home.”
Amy handed him her cup of coffee since she hadn’t drunk out of it yet, then went to pour herself more. As the black liquid spilled into her cup, she prayed for Curtis and Edith. This was harder on them than on her. When she returned to the living room, she tensed at her father’s voice. They settled down to wait for the phone to ring.
She was so tired. Closing her eyes, she drifted to sleep. When she awakened, she glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Have I really been asleep for two hours?”
Curtis opened his eyes at her voice. “You needed some rest. I took a snooze myself.”
Dad stretched. “Did you take Raine in for the DNA test?”
She fixed a quelling stare on her father. “Dad, that’s not appropriate to ask now. It doesn’t matter.”
Curtis nodded. “I did. Should have the results back in a few days.”
Amy’s phone rang, and she glanced at the screen before she answered it. “Any news, Tom?”
“The worst kind.”
Her stomach clenched, and her knees went weak. She gripped the phone with tight fingers. Please, God, not that. “W-What is it?”
Curtis stepped to her side and put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
She put her fingers to her lips. “Tom?”
He inhaled. “Davidson’s body was found in the Atlantic with a bullet in his head.”
“A-And Raine?”
“No sign of her. The FBI is going to question Senator Kendrick, but it looks like we’re at a dead end.”
She ended the call. “Grant is dead. Murdered.”
They’d all gathered at Curtis’s for dinner, but the tension between both sets of Raine’s grandparents was so thick in the living room that Curtis wished he hadn’t invited them over. He’d thought they could all support one another, but his father and Amy’s dad had been sniping at each other for the past hour. Well, Amy’s dad mostly, but Curtis could see his father beginning to react to the jabs.
Edith’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. “I’d better check on dinner.” She jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room.
Curtis had tried to take as much stress off of her as possible, but nothing would relieve it until Raine was back. “I’ll be right back.” He followed her to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”
Edith shook her head. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. You’d better stay in the living room and make sure open warfare doesn’t break out between your parents and Amy’s family.”
“I’m sorry you have to listen to this.”
She pressed trembling lips together. “Family should hang together in bad times like this. Amy’s parents seem determined to be in charge. They don’t even know Raine. Or love her.” Her voice broke.
He hugged her, and her trembling body began to calm. “We’ll get through this, Ede. We will. And we’ll find Raine.”
“I want her back. Tonight.” Her voice was a whisper. “I can’t bear seeing her empty crib.”
“Me neither.” He released her and headed for the living room. The tension could explode between them any minute, though he wasn’t sure what he could do to avert it if things began to heat up. He took the hard-backed chair by the desk and pulled it into the circle of people grouped near the fireplace.
Amy was pale. “Is Edith okay? I can go help her.”
He shook his head. “She’s got it under control. Should be ready in fifteen minutes or so.” He left her question unanswered. None of them would be okay until Raine was safely home.
Mary Lang crossed her legs. “Your mother was just telling us about Gina’s work with disadvantaged children in the church. Very admirable.”
She wore a short blue dress that most women her age wouldn’t have attempted, but she managed to carry it off. He suspected she spent a lot of money maintaining her youthful appearance. His mother, Cindy, was slightly overweight, but with a soft, gentle expression that was much more appealing than Mary’s face, chiseled with plastic surgery.
Curtis nodded. “Gina had a lot of compassion for other people.”
“Probably because she hit the bottom herself,” Oliver said.
Curtis saw his father bristle, and he quickly changed the subject. “You flew your plane in yourself or do you have a pilot?”
Oliver sat back in the sofa. “I fly myself. Learned in ’Nam.” He launched into the merits of his plane, and the two dads discussed various planes.
It was a safe subject for now, but watching Oliver, Curtis wanted to ask him if he was worried at all about Raine. Why was he here? There had been no real discussion of how they were going to find her. The room went silent as Oliver finally stopped talking. Curtis glanced at Amy and saw she was on the verge of tears.
She held his gaze a moment, then wiped her eyes. “It’s so hard not knowing if she’s all right. You’d think the FBI would have heard something. I mean, they know who took her.”
“Who allegedly took her,” her father corrected. “If you can believe the word of that girl.”
“We listened in when she called him,” Curtis said. “But he was killed before they could interrogate him. That made everything harder.”
Oliver shrugged. “Fine, but I’m not convinced Grant was even involved. I was impressed with him when I met him.”
“Why?” Amy fired back. “Because he was good with money? That doesn’t mean a thing.”
Her mother stared at her. “You’ve never really appreciated all the things we’ve given you, have you, Amy? Money sent you to the finest schools and gave you all the opportunities you have now.”
“Her hard work got her further than money and advantages,” Curtis said.
Oliver rose and pointed his finger at Curtis. “You’ve known her, what, all of two weeks, going on three? I think we know our daughter better than you do.”
“I’ve known her a long time, more than a year.” Curtis barely held on to his temper.
Curtis’s father stood. “I think we’d do well to remember why we’re here.” His gravelly voice held an edge. “My granddaughter is out there somewhere, and she’s all that matters right now. Bickering about inconsequential things is stupid. Your granddaughter needs you to help find her.”
“Your granddaughter, Edward. Whether she’s ours or not remains to be seen. There must have been some reason my son didn’t marry her.”
Amy leaped to her feet. “Dad, that’s enough! If you can’t be civil, you can go home. I thought you wanted to come here to help and be supportive. Your attitude is not helping.”
Confusion mingled with Oliver’s bullish expression. “Well, we don’t know yet. Not until the paternity test comes back.”
Mom pulled Amy back onto the sofa and patted her leg as she stared up at Oliver. “You think our daughter would actually lie about something like this?”
“Well . . .”
Mom held up her hand. “Your son claimed Raine as his daughter. Are you calling him a liar as well? I feel sorry for you, Mr. Lang. So little trust in your life.”
Oliver’s face reddened. “Mary, I think it’s time we left.” He didn’t wait for
his wife but stomped toward the door.
Amy followed her mother. “I’ll run them home and then come back.”
Curtis went after her and stopped her at the door. “Don’t let them talk you out of coming back.”
“I wish they hadn’t even come,” she said, her voice choked. “Raine is all that matters, and they’re just making things worse. I’m sorry for the stress they’ve brought you and your parents.”
He put his hand on her arm. “It’s not your fault.”
She gave a slight smile and shook her head. “It’s days like this that I wish I were adopted.”
THIRTY-THREE
Curtis’s eyes burned from two nights of no sleep. He’d prayed, put up posters, done interviews with multiple news stations, and had made a nuisance of himself with his FBI contact. There was still no sign of his Raine. He found himself playing endless games of FreeCell on his computer.
Saturday morning he mowed the yard with his cell phone in his pocket, but it hadn’t rung. The scent of fresh-cut grass hung in the air as he put his mower away and headed for the house. Amy’s car pulled into the drive, and he changed course to meet her.
There was a plate of cookies in her hand when she got out of the car. “I know it’s silly, but I felt compelled to bake cookies this morning. I’ll eat every one if I leave them in the house, so I thought I’d share the pounds with you.” She looked him over. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I smell peanut butter.”
“Any real man loves peanut butter. These are healthy too with real butter and almond flour.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate the effort you’re making to cheer me up.”
“No word?”
He shook his head. “It’s killing me.” He selected a cookie, then bit into it. The peanutty taste was good on his tongue, but his stomach still felt like lead.
“I can only imagine how you and Edith feel. I love Raine already but not like you two.”
The mailman’s arrival distracted his attention. The DNA test was only supposed to take a couple of days. Not that it mattered right now. Oliver’s custody case was a gnat compared to the overwhelming worry about Raine. He went to meet the mail carrier, who passed over a thick batch of envelopes. Nothing, nothing, then he paused. The official-looking envelope made his chest tighten.
Rosemary Cottage Page 22