by Mary Stone
She smiled, tears springing to her eyes. “Thank you. I really love you, you know.”
Sometimes, lately, he wasn’t so sure.
“I love you too. We’re a team.” He glanced around the diner and spotted Elise at the counter, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. “This case with Elise…it’s probably the last pro-bono one you should take.”
Kylie lifted her sandwich but nodded before taking a big bite. “I agree. I decided that when I saw the numbers. But it’s the first real case I’ve taken that isn’t some carryover from Starr Investigations. And it’s been pulling at me. You know how I get when a case is pulling at me. Right?”
He knew it well. When a case involved an injustice against the poor, defenseless, or voiceless of the world, Kylie could scarcely think of anything else.
“All right.” He surrendered to his own curiosity. “It sounds like you’re running into roadblocks.”
She sighed. “Yes. Once I get the police report, I hope it’ll open up some new avenues to explore. I called about getting a copy a little bit ago.”
“You ask Jacob to put a rush on it?” Jacob was Linc’s best friend and a Buncombe County detective.
“No. It happened in Haywood County, not Buncombe.”
“Ah.”
Her eyes drifted to the back of the diner. “I feel bad about being snippy with Elise, though. It wasn’t her fault. I hope I didn’t harm our relationship, both business and personal.”
“She’ll be okay,” Linc said, although he honestly wasn’t sure. Elise seemed like one who carried her heart on her sleeve. “Who have you met with so far? You said the babysitter?”
“Yeah, in Luxury Acres. You know it?”
It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the location. Slowly, though, an image came to mind, of a place on the side of the highway that looked like a refugee camp. When he was growing up, he and his friends used to ride for miles, all over the area. He used to ride past that place on his bicycle, and there were rumors that every pedophile and miscreant in the state of North Carolina was sent there when they went on parole.
She couldn’t mean that Luxury Acres, could she?
“Whereabouts is that?” he asked, taking a sip of his water.
“On 11. By the old mill.”
So, it was the same place he remembered. “Wait. You went there alone?”
“Of course.” She visibly bristled. “You know I went alone. It was fine.”
“Fine? That place is where criminals, especially sexual predators, go to die.” He couldn’t help his voice from rising in alarm.
“What?” She looked at him like he was crazy. “That’s where Agnes Mott lives, a blind, almost deaf old lady. I think I was pretty safe, considering.”
“Yeah, but did you see some of the other residents there? You don’t know what kind of criminals you could’ve been surrounded by.”
The hint of a smile he’d worked so hard to achieve disappeared in an instant. But she was being stupid again. It was like she went looking for trouble. “It was fine.”
“This time, maybe. But you don’t—”
“I handled myself perfectly fine for nearly a quarter of a century before you came along,” she said and stabbed one of his tomatoes with her fork. He got a feeling she’d been wishing for another, more human, target. “Believe it or not.”
“Yes, but back then, you weren’t—”
“Can we drop this, please?” she said a little too loudly before clearing her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not my warden, you know?”
“Me, wanting to make sure you don’t die, isn’t being your warden,” he responded calmly, crossing his arms to mirror her. “It’s not like you haven’t been in life-threatening situations before. I’ll save you as often as I have to, but I’d rather you not be in that position in the first place.”
Her expression turned mutinous. “You don’t always have to be there to save me. I’m not helpless. Sure, I’ve been in tight situations before, but those are rare. This is my job, whether you can deal with it or not. And this wasn’t even remotely dangerous, Linc.”
“You don’t know that. That’s what makes it dangerous.” She was still gazing at him defiantly, so he dragged his hand down his face and decided to let her win this one. “Fine. What did the babysitter say?”
She studied him closely, seemingly surprised and pleased that he’d dropped the subject. “Well, she gave me a description of the kidnapper, but not much else. Grandmotherly, platinum hair, wealthy. Sounds like any one of a million people out there.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing much. Oh. Just that she didn’t seem very loving to the child and treated it more like a business transaction. So, unless the police report has something really amazing in it, I’m afraid I’ll probably end up right where the police ended up. Exactly nowhere.”
“Actually, that could be helpful,” Linc said, thinking it over. “I mean, how many grandmotherly types do you know who go around stealing babies?”
“True, but that woman could be anywhere now. For all I know, she was one of those deranged people who always wanted a kid, and now she and Daisy are living in some remote place together and will never be seen again.”
Linc shook his head. “No. That doesn’t sound right. You just said the lady told you that, while she might have looked like a grandmother, she didn’t act like one. She told you she was very removed. Treated it like a business transaction.”
“So…?”
“So, that kind of person doesn’t sound very much like the type of person who has been pining away, looking for her chance at motherhood. My guess is that the baby isn’t with her anymore.”
Kylie reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re right. But then, what did she…” Her jaw sagged as horror and something else—excitement?— crossed her expression. “Wait. You think it’s part of a baby smuggling operation?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I’ve heard a lot about child laundering rings. Most of them involve babies from overseas, but there have been plenty that involved babies from the States. The people who run them will take babies any way they can for their wealthy clients, usually to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s a big business.”
“Then if Elise’s baby was taken, she’s probably not the only one. Right?”
“Right, but this woman might work out of a large area to avoid detection. Usually, the criminals will target people who are young, poor, don’t have much family…” He spotted the waitress at another table and lowered his voice even more. “Elise fits that profile. And it’s a nasty business involving a ring of people, because one person couldn’t pull this off on her own. The criminals were counting on the fact that Elise wouldn’t have the resources to finance an in-depth investigation for her baby.”
“But she did. And now she has me.” Kylie rubbed her hands together. The remaining half of her sandwich forgotten, she grabbed her phone and started to jab something in, likely going down a research rabbit hole.
That was more like the old Kylie.
“What are you researching?” Linc asked.
“Adoption agencies and child welfare societies in Waynesville. They’re the legal method of adoption, so I figure they’ll be the best source of information on the illegal way, right? Plus, she said she was visited by child welfare, so they might have information on this particular case.”
He nodded. It was a good idea. “Or the police. I’m sure Jacob could—”
“Here’s one. Children’s Hope in Waynesville. Hold on.” She put up a finger and tapped the screen to call the number. That was Kylie. Once she got an idea in her head, she didn’t let it go. “Hello, I’m Kylie Hatfield, a private investigator with Coulter Confidential. I’d like to ask your director a few questions about a case I have.” She winked at Linc. “An appointment? Yes, that would be great.” She practically glowed as she scribbled something on her notepad. “This afternoon at four is perfect. Tha
nks.” She hung up and clapped her hands together, then stopped when their eyes met. “What?”
He shrugged and stabbed a cucumber. “You said Kylie Hatfield. Not Coulter.”
She smacked herself on the forehead. “Whoops. I keep doing that.”
She keeps doing that, he repeated to himself, the knowledge affecting him more than it probably should.
He paid the check as she finished nibbling on her sandwich, and she didn’t talk much at all, deep in thought. When they said goodbye to Elise and walked outside, Kylie was so deeply ingrained in this new lead that they broke apart and walked to their respective cars without so much as a “See you back at the house later on.” He waited for her to turn around and remember him, but she never did.
Again, it affected him more than it should have.
He needed to stop worrying about it so much.
Maybe he should talk about his sudden insecurities with his PTSD therapist. He felt sure he was just overthinking everything, as usual.
Losing his entire team in Syria had left him vulnerable to feelings of abandonment, his therapist had told him. It pissed him off that she was right. He’d worked hard to seclude himself up on his mountain top, needing to worry about nothing but himself and his animals.
Then, Kylie had bounced into his life and karate-chopped all his walls straight down. And he’d come to need her sparkle too much, he realized that.
He needed her laughter and fun. He needed the innate sexiness that drove him crazy.
And he needed her attention, which might make him a loser of the first degree, but there it was. She’d wormed her way into his life, and it scared him to think of losing her.
“Fucking loser,” he cursed himself under his breath.
When he pulled out onto the highway, he groaned, realizing she was right behind him, and though it was drizzling, she didn’t have her headlights on.
It wasn’t wrong, looking out for her, was it? It was because he cared.
Caring was good. Right?
As he turned off the road, she honked her horn and blew him a kiss.
And just like that…he was smiling again.
Everything would be just fine.
10
Driving onto the highway, Kylie punched Children’s Hope into her GPS. Another meeting. Hopefully, this one would get her somewhere. She desperately needed something to put her in a better mood.
She’d meant to be happy when she went out to lunch with Linc. Even though she’d resolved to be her old chipper self, she hadn’t done a very good job. He and everything else just seemed to grate on her every last nerve lately. He’d made it seem like the business failing was her fault. He’d given her that disappointed look when he found out she was working on the Elise Kirby case.
And she felt awful about how she’d snapped at Elise. Elise was quiet and gentle and looked like a stiff wind would blow her over. Her face had crumpled when Kylie raised her voice. That was wrong.
It was the stress. And Linc wasn’t helping things. Constantly looking at her like she was doing something wrong? Getting on her for visiting a freaking trailer park? He’d always been the overbearing, overprotective type, and god knew she sometimes needed it considering the sticky situations she’d been in…but Agnes Mott was about as harmless as a person could get. The world was not as big and bad as he made it out to be, with miscreants waiting around every corner, waiting to strike.
She swallowed as she drove, knowing that his need to protect her would probably only be magnified once he found out she was pregnant. He might not even let her leave the house. In fact, he might wrap her in bubble wrap, to save her from whatever dangers might lie inside their four walls.
It was amazing, she thought, that he’d even allowed her to go to Children’s Hope on her own, since it was in Waynesville. Not that Waynesville was a dangerous town in the least, but if he’d been afraid of her meeting up with a blind, deaf old lady alone, who knew what other lengths he would go to?
She arrived at Children’s Hope about twenty minutes before the appointment, so she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. As she’d hoped, the Haywood County Police had answered her request for a police report, emailing it to her.
Eagerly, she scrolled through the pages, but the report was markedly sparse. She scrolled down to the police officer’s remarks and read: Received call at 11:23 PM that mother Elise Kirby believed her child, Daisy Kirby, 2 months, to have been kidnapped. Arrived at caller’s home in Luxury Acres at 11:35 PM and questioned Elise Kirby and babysitter, Agnes Mott, who stated that a wealthy, older woman claiming to be Kirby’s aunt had taken the child away at approximately six PM in a late-model silver Mercedes.
Luxury Acres is a busy park with numerous residences surrounding a courtyard. However, questioned neighbors did not see the woman arrive or depart. None had noticed the car parked in the lot. Fingerprints were taken in the residence of Mott but only Kirby’s and Mott’s were found.
Child was entered into the national missing persons database, however no leads were returned. Investigation into the mother found no evidence of foul play.
Well, that was great. And unhelpful. It seemed like there was so much more they could’ve done. What about scavenging the lot for tire tracks? Having a sketch artist recreate a picture of the woman based on Agnes’s description and asking local businesses about a woman matching that description? Now, it was too late.
As far as Kylie was concerned, there was only one reason why they hadn’t put everything into this case: To them, Elise was a nobody.
She looked at the name of the investigating officer: T. Stefak.
She still had a few moments before the appointment, so she quickly dialed the number for the police department. When someone answered, she said, “I’d like to speak to Officer Stefak, please.”
The man on the other end said, “I’m sorry. Thomas Stefak hasn’t been employed here in over a year.”
Of course. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“Believe he moved his family to Florida,” came the unenthusiastic response.
“Thank you.”
She hung up and blew tendrils of dark hair out of her eyes. And now, that strange, uncontrolled feeling she’d gotten when she’d been talking to Elise was back. Worse than before. She felt like she was being backed against a wall, which frustrated her even more.
She shoved her phone in her purse and stepped out of her car, hoisting her bag on her shoulder as she looked up at the brick building. It was an office complex, with several different tenants, mostly doctors’ offices, according to the directory at the front of the building. Children’s Hope occupied the fourth, top floor.
Pressing the UP button on the elevator, she thought of poor Elise. You’re someone to me, Elise, she thought to herself, and then felt even guiltier about snapping at the poor girl.
When she arrived at the top floor and the elevator doors slid open, she was greeted by a white wall with a giant Children’s Hope logo—the “o” was a bright red heart. The lobby was furnished with comfortable chairs and the lighting was soft and welcoming. The receptionist smiled at her. “Are you Kylie Hatfield?”
“Um, actually, Kylie Coulter,” she said, tapping the side of her head. “I just got married and I’m clearly having memory issues.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, I understand. It happens to all of us.”
Kylie was sure it did, but she wasn’t quite sure it happened to people who’d been married for several months. If the wounded look Linc had given her at the diner was any indication, she probably should’ve gotten with the program by now. Wasn’t it too early to have baby brain?
“Dr. Banks will be with you in a moment,” the woman said, standing up and picking up her phone. “I’ll let her know you’re here. In the meantime, can I offer you any tea? Coffee? Water?”
“No thank you,” she said, looking around. There was a wall of brochures near the reception stand, and Kylie gravitated to it. She read a couple of th
e titles: Adoption and You; Making the Decision to Adopt; When Abortion is Not the Answer; So You Want to Adopt a Child; Becoming a Foster Parent.
She picked up one of them and leafed through it as the woman behind her said, “You’re a private investigator? That’s exciting. Are you looking into a particular case?”
Kylie nodded and turned to face the woman. “As a matter of fact, I am. A baby was kidnapped a couple years ago from a home around here.”
The woman’s face turned ashen. “Oh no, that’s terrible.”
Kylie rushed to comfort the woman. “It’s not that anyone here is implicated.” By now, Kylie knew how it looked whenever she showed her face anywhere. People always assumed that she was interviewing a suspect. “I just thought that a local adoption agency could provide me some insight into possible child laundering cases.” She used Linc’s words, child laundering, because it sounded more official.
“I see,” the woman said, clearly still upset. “How awful for that mother. Looking for her lost child for years. As a mother, that’s my worst nightmare.”
Kylie’s hand instinctively went to her stomach, and she began to feel queasy again. Mine too.
Just then, a door opened, and a woman swept in. “Hello!” she said loudly and brashly, grabbing on to Kylie’s hand and shaking it so fast that she barely had a chance to process. “I’m Dr. Chastity Banks. Come right inside.”
“Thank you,” Kylie said, following the tornado of a woman with blonde hair that looked like a helmet. She had on an expensive looking flowery dress and too-high heeled sandals that her toes were falling out of and walked a little like a person trying to win a race. Kylie had a hard time keeping up with her.
When they reached her office, Dr. Banks offered her a seat, one of two blue plastic chairs. Kylie sat in one, glancing at the name placard on the enormous metal desk that said DR. CHASTITY BANKS, with a number of lettered designations that Kylie had never heard of. When Dr. Banks sat down, she rolled herself close to the desk and piled her hands in front of her, her bright pink fingernails a stark contrast to her pale skin. “How may I help you?”