Lullabies and Lies

by Mallory Kane

  “D-don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

  “No. Please. Do not come up with anything. You listen to me. Do it this way.”

  Hiram listened, wiping a sheen of sweat off his face. The lump in his throat finally began to dissolve.

  He had to hand it to Janie—she was a nut, but she was a smart nut.

  SUNNY DID NOT WANT to have to deal with Griffin Stone again. He read her much too easily. She was used to being the one who slipped in under other people’s defenses. She didn’t like having the tables turned.

  She halted at the dining room door. In the sun-filled kitchen, he stood with his back to her, accepting a cup of coffee from Lillian.

  He wore a lightweight navy-blue sport coat and creased khaki slacks, with classic penny loafers. His dark hair teased the collar of his shirt. As he reached to take the coffee, the subtle movement of his shoulders inside the jacket drew her eye. They were broad shoulders, strong shoulders. They looked as if they could carry a heavy burden with ease.

  Sunny swallowed the lump of fear and loneliness that briefly clogged her throat. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin and walked into the kitchen.

  “Here she is,” Lillian said. “Darling, do you want coffee?”

  Agent Stone turned, and Sunny saw his eyes in full light for the first time. She suppressed a gasp. They were a deep blue-violet, possibly the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Surrounded by black lashes and topped by straight dark brows, they softened his strong, harshly planed face.

  “Um, yes, thanks, Lil. I’d like some.”

  She sat at the kitchen table, gesturing for the agent to sit too, but he waited until Lillian had poured one more cup of coffee.

  After Lillian set the cup in front of her, she touched Sunny on the shoulder. “I’m going home for a while. I have laundry to do and some other chores. The officer up front can answer the phone.” Lillian briefly glanced toward Griff. “Unless you need me here?”

  Sunny shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

  Lillian’s hand cupped Sunny’s chin. “I hope you gave some thought to what I said yesterday. It would be so much easier for you.” Lillian kissed her cheek. “Nice to meet you, Agent Stone.”

  “Call me Griff, ma’am.” Griff nodded at her. “Good to meet you, too.”

  Lillian smiled warmly at him. “Griff,” she said.

  After Lillian left, he pulled out a chair and sat across from Sunny. “So here we are again, on opposite sides of the table.”

  His voice was distressingly cheerful.

  She rubbed her temple, then sipped her coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste. Everything tasted like ashes, and would, she knew, until Emily was back home with her.

  “You said you had information relevant to my daughter’s case?” she asked coldly.

  He pulled a torn piece of lined notepaper from his pocket.

  Sunny almost dropped her cup. It clattered against the wooden tabletop.

  “Wh-where did you get that?” she stammered, terror streaking through her.

  “From a car windshield in the precinct parking lot. You have one just like it. I watched you pick it up yesterday afternoon.”

  Adrenaline sizzled through her veins. Her pulse jackhammered. She’d known he was watching her, even though she’d tried to deny it. She’d felt his burning stare.

  He held the piece of paper between two fingers, as if taunting her with it. She met his gaze briefly, but her eyes kept going back to the paper. What did the other notes have on them? It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder that until now.

  “Is it a flyer?”

  “You know it’s not.” He spread the sheet out in front of her. It was blank. “Turn it over.”

  His voice held a command she couldn’t refuse. She reached out with a hand that shook, and nudged the paper over. Her breath caught. “There’s nothing on it.”

  Relief and fear collided in her chest. Relief that he didn’t know her sheet was not blank, and fear that he was about to somehow trick her into admitting she’d gotten another note.

  She wiped her hand with her napkin and waited, looking down at her cup, dreading his next words.

  “But there was writing on yours, wasn’t there? I saw how you reacted. I watched you read it. Show me the note, Ms. Loveless.”

  She reached for her cup, trying for casual, but her hand shook so much she gave up the effort and balled it into a fist.

  He surprised her by leaning forward and covering her hand with his. His skin was warm, his fingers hard and strong, like the rest of him, like his name.

  His hand was much larger than hers, but it looked graceful and competent. She had no doubt he could break a neck or hold a baby with equal care and skill.

  Her vision grew hazy as she imagined letting him take the burden from her shoulders. He might be cool and just-the-facts, but he exuded a confidence Sunny craved.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered. She bit her tongue so the answers he sought wouldn’t slip out. She felt like a rabbit caught in headlights—paralyzed with fear. Yet she had to make a decision. She didn’t know which way to turn for safety.

  As if she’d spoken aloud, he answered her. “My expertise is in child abductions. So trust me, I do know. I’ve had cases like this before.”

  “Not like this one.” She pulled her hand from under his. His touch was too reassuring, too tempting. It made her want to trust him.

  Her throat closed up and it took her a moment to speak. “Have you ever had a case with a baby this small? Emily is only six months old.”

  He nodded. “Often when—”

  She interrupted him. “Did you get the baby back?”

  “Ms. Loveless—”

  “Did you?”

  A shadow crossed his face, and Sunny’s heart sank. She’d almost let him convince her that he could make everything right.

  But this wasn’t a fairy tale and Griffin Stone was no knight in shining armor. He was just a human being with human failings. One more obstacle between her and the most important thing in her life—her child, Emily.

  “Children are most often taken by a relative,” he said. “Most are returned to their family safe and sound. I’ve handled eleven child abductions with the FBI. Five were children younger than one year. Four of those were taken by a family member. All four were eventually recovered. The fifth infant was taken by a stranger.”

  He raised his gaze to hers, his incredible eyes hooded and dark.

  Sunny’s shoulders ached with tension. “And—?”

  He shook his head. The faint lines around his mouth deepened. “That was three years ago. We never found him. He’s still listed as missing.”

  Through numb lips, Sunny said, “This is not a family member abduction.”

  He didn’t speak.

  “And it’s not some deranged woman who wants a baby for herself.”

  His face softened, although his eyes didn’t. “I know.”

  Her heart lurched painfully. Hearing him confirm her fears frightened her even more. If the kidnapper wasn’t a family member or a stranger, then what did that mean for Emily’s safety?

  “I keep thinking if I hadn’t adopted Emily, she’d be safe now. She’d be with a stable, loving, protective family.” She took a shaky breath. “Or if I’d only waited to go to the store. I didn’t have to have milk—”

  “You can go insane thinking about all the if onlies.” His voice was rough with some emotion. “Don’t keep piling more guilt onto yourself. You’ll collapse. And that won’t do your daughter any good. Give me the notes. Let me help you.”

  Her shoulders ached, her head pounded. She looked up at him, searching his eyes for a peek into his soul.

  He sat there without moving, allowing her in for an instant. And in that instant she’d caught a glimpse of a sadness so profound it hurt her heart.

  She moistened her lips and asked quietly, “Why do you do it?”

  The sadness expanded, drew her in, until she fel
t consumed by it. On some deep visceral level he understood her pain.

  Then he blinked and just like that, he withdrew.

  “It’s a job,” he said dismissively. “I’m good at it.”

  Sunny shook her head, still holding his gaze. “That can’t be why.”

  He looked down at his cup. “That’s the best explanation I have. Now, are you going to make me get a search warrant for those notes?”

  She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. “What about the other children?”

  He frowned up at her.

  “The other six cases you handled.”

  His eyes flickered, looked past her for an instant before returning to her face. “Those children were older. I thought you were interested in infants.”

  “I’m interested in your record.”

  He straightened, almost imperceptibly, as if he were bracing himself. “Four were recovered safe and sound. The other two—”

  Suddenly, the memory of a recent news story surfaced in Sunny’s mind. She blinked. “Oh, my God, you were the agent on the case of that Senator’s son, weren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, but she saw the self-recrimination in his suddenly stoic features, in the slight wavering of his gaze.

  Details of the case came back to her in a rush. “Didn’t the boy’s father pay the ransom? He didn’t go to the police.” Fear sheared her breath. The Senator had thought he could handle the kidnappers himself.

  “What happened?” she asked anxiously. “Why did the boy end up dead?”

  Griff shook his head. “We were too late. The kidnappers fled as soon as they got their money. They never revealed the boy’s final location. By the time we found him, he had died of exposure.”

  “So, you’re saying that if the Senator had called in the police sooner—”

  “No. The child’s safety was my responsibility.”

  “But if you’d been called in earlier you’d have had a better chance.”

  “Most of the time it’s the best course of action.” He leveled his gaze on her. “The most difficult infant abduction cases are the ones where the person wants the baby for themselves. Often those children are never found.”

  Emotion roughened his voice. “The most dangerous are the cases where the baby is used as leverage or for revenge.”

  He paused, and Sunny’s breath stuck in her throat.

  “That’s what I think this is.”

  “Leverage?” she croaked.

  He nodded. “You have something they want. And they’re desperate to get it. You can’t deal with these people alone. You have to trust someone to help you.” Griff’s eyes probed hers. “Trust me.”

  Tears filled her eyes and overflowed. His words, his eyes, called to her. Share the burden. Let me help you.

  “They said they would kill her.”

  Griff nodded solemnly. “I know.”

  “But you might be too late.” She didn’t say again but she knew he heard it in her voice.

  He winced and closed his eyes briefly. He touched her hand. “I promise you, I will die if that’s what it takes to save your daughter.”

  The absolute conviction in his voice stunned her. I will die.

  She couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at his hand, so large against her smaller, paler one.

  Finally she made a fist, then pulled away and pressed her knuckles against her lips.

  “Why?”

  He looked up at her, startled. “Why what?”

  “Why would you die to save her?”

  He swallowed and his jaw clenched. “I told you, it’s my job.”

  She shook her head in denial. He wasn’t just a man doing his job. For whatever reason, this was personal.

  “I’m so afraid.”

  “I know.”

  “They said they would kill her. How can I just ignore that?”

  “I swear I will get your daughter back.”

  The determination in his face was unmistakable. His violet eyes burned with fervor.

  “I would, too.”

  His brow furrowed. “Would what?”

  “I would die if it meant Emily would be safe.”

  A wry smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Then we agree on that.”

  Finally she stood on legs that threatened to give way, and retrieved her purse, her hands unsteady as she pulled out the two notes she’d tucked safely inside a pair of Ziploc plastic bags.

  Griff blew out his breath in a sigh of relief as he rose and stepped over next to her. His hand brushed her shoulder in silent reassurance.

  By the time he laid the bags on the table to study them, his pulse was already hammering.

  “Torn from a cheap spiral notebook, just like the blank sheets on the other cars,” he muttered. “Block printing. Hard to analyze.”

  The first note was crinkled and stained, a testament to Sunny’s attack, and the pencil marks were faint in places, but he could read it.

  “You’ve messed with the wrong person this time Loveless. Tell the police anything about me and your kid will die.”

  He looked up. “He knows your name.” So it was about revenge. A sliver of worry embedded itself under his skin. He’d hoped he was wrong.

  “Where was this?”

  “He stuffed it into my mouth, when he was on top of me. He whispered Chew on this, Loveless.”

  “The leather gloves.” He pictured her struggling, injured, lying on the asphalt in the rain, while the attacker held her down, wadded up the note and pushed it between her teeth.

  She nodded, her tension palpable, her green eyes burning his skin. She’d been through more than he’d imagined. As irritated as he’d been by her stubborn attempts to handle this herself, he had to admire her bravery.

  He’d asked her to trust him, and she had finally agreed. He’d made her a promise. Now he had to live up to it. The hollow ache in his chest flared.

  He scanned the second note as she sat back down across from him.

  You’re spending too much time with the police.

  Someone you know will be hurt.

  Someone already had. He raised his gaze.

  “What is it?” Sunny frowned, two tiny lines appearing between her eyebrows. She glanced down at the second note, and gasped. “Something’s happened. That’s why you came here.”

  Her voice rose in volume and pitch. She stood so abruptly that the kitchen chair nearly tipped over.

  “Ms. Loveless—”

  “What’s happened? It’s not Emily, is it?” She covered her mouth, her eyes widening until white showed all the way around her emerald-colored irises. “Please—tell me she’s okay.”

  “It’s not Emily,” he said, rounding the table and wrapping her ice-cold fingers in his, to warm them, he told himself. “But it is connected to one of your cases.”

  She took a long, shaky breath. “One of my cases?”

  He nodded grimly. “Come sit down. Are you okay?”

  She nodded jerkily.

  He watched her, listened to her breathing. He held her chair for her, then sat next to her.

  “Joseph Mabry is dead. He apparently fell down the stairs at his rooming house last night. One of his tenants found him around midnight.”

  “Mabry? The landlord from Jennifer Curry’s case?” Her head jerked. “Was he…?”

  Frustration burned inside Griff. He’d been at the scene all night, dogging CSU, but nothing concrete had turned up. “The M.E. has made a preliminary ruling of accidental death.”

  Sunny’s wide eyes searched his face. “You don’t believe it was an accident.”

  He shook his head. “Your baby disappears on Tuesday and a man connected with one of your cases dies under questionable circumstances on Thursday? I don’t believe in coincidence. Tell me about Jennifer Curry.”

  “Two months ago she came to me, wanting to find her biological parents. Her adoptive mother had died. Jennifer found her adoption papers and a note in her mother’s things. The documents weren’t l
egal, and the note said ‘Jane called. $20,000 by Friday.’ It looked like Jennifer’s mother had bought her from ‘Jane.’”

  Her voice was bitter, reminding Griff of her own history. Jennifer’s case had been personal for her.

  “The hospital and court records I was able to access didn’t tell me anything. I figured Jane had needed help with those forged documents, so I checked out Vanderbilt University. There were seven Janes listed in the school’s directory for 1989. Nine for 1990. I tried to find them all. But only one was the wife of a law student. Ed and Jane Gross lived at Mabry’s place until 1991.”

  1991. Griff’s tried to ignore the sudden burning ache in his chest and concentrated on the information Sunny had just given him. “So what did you find out from Mabry?”

  “Not much. He remembered them. Couldn’t swear Jane Gross had ever been pregnant. There’s no proof the Grosses are Jennifer’s parents.”

  “But you think they are?”

  She nodded. “I think so. You think the Grosses killed Mabry?”

  “Yes, I do. Because of something Mabry told you.”

  “But he didn’t tell me anything. Just that they’d lived there, and then one night they disappeared. I even flew to New York to talk to Ed Gross. He claimed he and his wife had never had a child. I let it drop and gave Jennifer her money back.”

  Griff frowned. “Do you always give up so easily?”

  She stiffened. “I draw the line at invading people’s privacy. I believe Ed Gross is Jennifer’s father, but he obviously doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He has that right.”

  “Did you tell Jennifer?”

  “No. That would be unethical, and it would hurt her unnecessarily. I told her I had contacted the most likely candidate, but that it was a dead end.”

  “How did she take that?”

  “Not well. She’s a very angry young woman. Her mother had never told her she was adopted.” She paused. “You think Jennifer did this? She’s only eighteen—a child!”

  “An adult. And you just told me she’s angry.”

  “Why would she kill Mabry? If she’s angry at anyone, it’s me.”