Lullabies and Lies

by Mallory Kane

  “Oh, God!” Fear slashed her heart. “Please, no. Don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t have much money, but—”

  “Oh, no, ma’am.” The woman sounded horrified. “I’m not asking for money. But the people who took your baby are very dangerous. I don’t know what they’ll do if they find out I’ve contacted you. They’re capable of anything. Do you understand?”

  “The people who—? No, I don’t understand. Don’t you have her?” Sunny clutched her stomach as bile clawed at her throat.

  “I do, ma’am. I do. For now. She’s safe and warm and happy.”

  A moan escaped Sunny’s numb lips. “What do you want from me?”

  “I just want all this to stop. You deserve to have your baby back, safe and sound. But you have to come alone, and you have to come now! They’ll be back any day now.”

  “Who are they? And who are you?”

  “I can’t tell you that. When you get to Philadelphia, call this number.” She rattled off ten digits.

  Sunny stood on shaky legs. “Wait. I have to find a pen.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to go.”

  Sunny repeated the numbers, doing her best to commit them to memory.

  “Come as soon as you can. If you don’t hurry, it will be too late.”

  Too late. Oh please God no. “Where in Philadelphia? Where do I go?”

  “Just call the number.” The line went dead.

  Sunny ran into her bedroom and grabbed a pen and paper from her desk. She wrote the number down, praying that she hadn’t transposed any of the digits.

  Then she sank into her desk chair, her limbs quivering, her stomach churning. She looked at her phone, and hit star 69. But the phone on the other end just rang and rang.

  Dropping the cell phone onto her desk, Sunny squeezed her head between her hands as dry, panicked sobs shook her.

  Philadelphia. Emily was in Philadelphia.

  She had to go. Alone. She couldn’t tell anyone about the phone call. The woman had said the people who’d taken Emily were dangerous. Capable of anything. There was no time to waste.

  Her baby’s life was at stake.

  BESS HUNG UP the pay phone and hurried back to her pickup.

  She climbed into the front seat and leaned over to check on Emily. Talking to the baby’s mother had upset her more than she’d realized.

  “Hey, Emily Rose. You still asleep?”

  The baby’s pale lashes rested against her rosy cheeks. Bess’s eyes filled with tears. “I just talked to your mommy,” she whispered. “She’s coming to get you. She’ll be here soon, I promise.”

  As Bess straightened and turned the ignition key a cold sweat popped out on her forehead. Her left arm tingled. She reached for her purse and took out a tiny prescription bottle.

  “One of these little tablets should—” She tried to take a full breath, but couldn’t. “And I’ll be fine. Let’s go home. Old Bess is tired and it’s a forty-minute drive back to the house.”

  A heaviness weighed on her, a sense of dread anticipation. She was scared to death that Janie would return for Emily before her mother got to Philadelphia. She had to do something.

  “I’ll tell you what, Emily. I’m really worried that Janie has gone round the bend this time.” She felt a familiar flush as the heart medication took effect. “And I’m getting too old for this. You know what I’m going to do?” She smiled as Emily cooed in her sleep.

  “That’s right. I’m going to call Mia. She’ll help me make sure you’re safe. Out of Janie’s reach.”

  SUNNY THREW HER PURSE and Emily’s pink diaper bag into the passenger seat of her car.

  She ducked her head and ran back toward the house as the rain intensified. All she needed was her suitcase.

  Then, over the downpour, she heard the crunch of a footstep on gravel.

  Just like the night Emily had been kidnapped.

  Panic streaked through her. She jerked her head up. A bulky form loomed over her and a rough arm grabbed her.

  “No!” she shrieked, kicking, elbowing—anything to stop the assault. “Help!”

  “Shut up!” A hand that smelled of motor oil and cigarettes clamped over her mouth.

  She clawed at it, tried to bite it, but he was too strong. He dragged her up the steps and through her front door. She struggled not to lose her footing.

  He kicked the door shut and pushed her against the banister. “All right, Loveless! I warned you I’d pay you back.”

  She could barely see through her wet plastered hair, but the man’s bulk and his voice were familiar. Dread filled her at the hatred that blasted her.

  “Get off me! What do you want?”

  “You know what I want!” The voice was harsh and furious.

  Sunny wiped her face with trembling hands, and squinted at the bulky form in the light from the front porch. The short haircut, combined with the familiar voice, told her who he was.

  Burt Means!

  Her pulse hammered. The last thing he’d said to her was etched in her memory.

  You’ll pay for this, he’d mouthed at her as the guards had led him out of the courtroom.

  “It’s you! Where’s my baby?” she managed to say as he grabbed her shoulders.

  “Your baby?” he thundered, shaking her.

  His hands were punishingly strong. Pain shot through her bones. She could barely think.

  “Stop it!” She tried to kick him. “Get off me!”

  “It’s my kid! Don’t mess with me! Where’s my kid?”

  Sunny went limp with horrified shock. “You don’t have her?” Was he lying? Had she heard wrong? Confusion and dread turned her stomach.

  “You hid her, didn’t you?” he yelled. “When you heard I was getting out. You knew I’d come after her—and you!”

  He shoved her away and lifted his hand as if to hit her.

  Sunny cringed and recoiled.

  “You ruined my life and took my kid. Well, you won’t get away with it.”

  She held up her hands to ward off his blow. “Oh, my God, you really don’t have her? You didn’t have that woman call—?”

  He paused. “What woman? Stop lying! I saw you put the diaper bag in your car.”

  “No! Please,” she cried. “I swear I don’t know where she is.” Her chest cramped. She couldn’t draw a full breath.

  Burt didn’t have her baby!

  He shoved her toward the staircase. “Is she upstairs? You’d better start talking, and fast.”

  If Burt didn’t have Emily…

  Her breath hitched as fear and grief enveloped her. “She’s not here. I thought you’d taken her—or Brittany had.” She looked at the hulk who towered over her. “But you’re not the one who attacked me. You’re too big.”

  Burt wrenched her arm and stared at her for an instant, then his lip curled in a snarl. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going through every inch of this house, and if that kid’s not here, you’re going to take me to her.”

  “I can’t—” Sunny cried out as Burt twisted her arm until her shoulder burned with pain.

  “Well you better, ’cause if you don’t…” His snarl turned into a leer. “Before we’re done tonight I’ll make you beg me to kill you.”

  GRIFF PUSHED AWAY from the hotel room’s writing desk. He’d spent the past half hour studying his missing child database, looking for similarities between Sunny’s case and others, the way he did each time he heard of another missing child. He wanted to scroll down to the bottom of the file and look at the first case entered there. But that case wasn’t relevant to this one. He had a job to do, a missing child to find. This was no time for wallowing in grief and self-recrimination.

  He rubbed his stubbled jaw. He was having trouble concentrating.

  It had been a long day, starting at three o’clock this morning when Carver had called him about Mabry’s suspicious death.

  He paced deliberately in front of the glass wall that l
ooked out over the Nashville skyline and tried to think about the M.E.’s report on Mabry’s death. It didn’t work. All he could see before his eyes was the hurt in Sunny’s expression when he’d snapped at her.

  There are no happy endings. It had been a cruel and thoughtless comment, born from his own pain—his own failure. He’d been focused inward on the grief that had consumed him ever since he got here.

  Nashville. That was the problem. The city where he’d grown up was calling to him, reminding him, accusing him.

  He stared out over the city’s streets, laid out like the spokes of a wheel. They were fast turning shiny and reflective with the rain that had begun to fall.

  Nashville had changed a lot since he’d been gone, yet the skyline remained familiar. He knew exactly where Centennial Park was. His gaze zeroed in on the lights that defined the downtown park with its replica of the ancient Parthenon.

  Old grief settled deep in his belly. He turned away from the window, and his gaze landed on the screen of his laptop. The screen saver had come on.

  Outside, the city taunted him with whispers of traffic and rain as he stared at the slide show of pictures from that fateful summer day when he’d taken his toddler sister to that very park.

  If he hadn’t been so interested in his new camera, if he hadn’t turned his back on Marianne’s stroller to snap a picture of a dog jumping to catch a Frisbee…

  He muttered a curse, and took two giant strides over to the desk and shut off the computer.

  If he hadn’t…

  But he had. That few seconds of distraction had given Marianne’s abductor time to grab her and run.

  He kept the photos on his screen saver, not to remind him of that day—he needed no help with that—but to keep his sister’s face in his mind.

  To keep her alive.

  He slid his laptop into its case and locked it, mindful of the FBI case notes and files it contained. He took it everywhere. He even kept a change of clothes and a few sundries in the compact case.

  Back at the window, he pulled the drapes. With the city hidden behind yards of material, maybe he could get some sleep.

  He looked at his watch. Ten o’clock. He was exhausted, but he was too antsy to rest. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t relax. He sure as hell had no hope of sleeping.

  He wondered how Sunny was doing. It had been a long day for her, too. First, he’d shocked her with the information about Mabry’s death.

  Then there had been the fake bomb, which he still didn’t understand. Even though Burt Means theoretically had access to blasting caps, the gratuitous display didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the case. There was a chance it was coincidental, but he didn’t think so. It seemed more like a diversionary tactic.

  Whatever its purpose, it had certainly spooked Sunny. Then to top it all off, he’d slammed her in the face with his cruel remark about happy endings, then put her through the third degree, questioning her for hours about every case she’d ever handled.

  She’d been pale and drawn by the time he’d left to check in with Carver about the package. Her friend Lillian had been there, eyeing him with her sharp, disapproving gaze. She thought he was being too hard on Sunny.

  He was. But he had to make sure she didn’t hide any more information from him. And if he had to destroy her rosy dreams in order to save her child, he would.

  Feeling a little dirty, he took a quick shower, telling himself it would make him feel drowsy. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get Sunny Loveless’s hurt green eyes out of his mind.

  He knew she was all right—she had Lillian to take care of her. But he’d feel better if he heard her say it. He didn’t allow himself to consider any other motive as he took out his cell phone and dialed her home number.

  No answer.

  His first instinct was to rush over to her house, but he stopped and forced himself to think logically. Maybe Lillian had managed to get her to go to bed early.

  He looked toward his own bed and sighed. It was no use. He’d never get to sleep until he’d checked on her.

  He pulled on jeans, a T-shirt and a white dress shirt, stuck his gun in its paddle holster at the small of his back and shrugged into a lightweight sport coat.

  Habit made him grab the computer case before he headed downstairs. Outside, the rain had increased, but it was a quick sprint to his rental car.

  Once he was headed toward East Nashville, he felt a little silly. Sunny’s house would be dark and still, and he had no reason to wake her.

  He was just restless, and checking on her was nothing more than an excuse to assuage his guilt for his remark about no happy endings.

  All he was going to do was drive down her street, then turn around and head back to the hotel and face a long sleepless night. He supposed he could stop in at one of the clubs where aspiring country stars sang their hearts out, hoping to be noticed by a record producer. But that held no interest for him. Not tonight.

  He turned onto Kenyon Avenue, his windshield wipers slapping in rhythm with the blues guitar playing on the car’s radio. The neighborhood was quiet and dark, blanketed by the rain. A few cars were parked on the street, but everyone seemed to be tucked in for the night.

  However, as soon as Sunny’s house came into view, he realized something was wrong. Her porch light was on and her front door was wide open.

  What the hell? He killed his lights and pulled to the curb, his pulse racing. He jumped out and drew his gun. He had to blink to keep the rain out of his eyes as he crept toward two shadowy figures he could barely make out through the rain.

  Two figures.

  Sunny was in trouble.

  Thankful for the curtain of rain that hid him, Griff quietly dialed 911, identified himself and requested immediate backup. Then he crept through Lillian’s yard.

  By the time he was close enough to hear anything over the roar of the rain, the bulky figure had opened the driver’s side door of Sunny’s car.

  “Stop your blubbering and get in the damn car,” a harsh voice said as meaty arms pushed a drenched and shaking Sunny into the driver’s seat.

  Feeling a powerful urge to coldcock the bully, Griff silently stepped up behind him and pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of his head. “Freeze, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  The man froze for an instant, then jerked backward, but Griff was ready. He shoved the bigger man against the open car door and sank the barrel of his gun an inch into the back of his neck.

  “I said freeze! Now, spread your legs and put your hands on your head. Make a move and your hands won’t have anything to rest on.” Griff heard the fury in his own voice.

  Apparently the man did, too. He spewed invectives, but he stayed still.

  Griff wanted to check on Sunny, but he didn’t dare take his attention off his quarry until backup arrived. He pushed the gun barrel in another fraction of an inch.

  The bully tensed. “Ow! Careful, man. That thing might go off.”

  Rage burned inside Griff. “Yeah, it might,” he growled. “My Glock doesn’t like cowards who manhandle women.”

  Within seconds sirens pierced the sound of the rain. Thank God, Carver had made good on his promise to keep a police car in the area.

  As two officers handcuffed the man and led him away, the rain slowed to a drizzle.

  Griff bent and looked inside the car at Sunny. She was soaked to the skin. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with smudged makeup.

  To his surprise, when he held out his hand, she grabbed it and vaulted up into his arms.

  SUNNY HADN’T MEANT to lose control like that. But she’d been praying that Griff would show up and save her from Burt, and suddenly, there he was, appearing out of the rain like a knight on a white horse.

  She’d been so scared, and Griff’s body was powerful and warm and safe. The stench of cigarettes and motor oil was replaced by Griff’s calming scent. He smelled of rain and soap and a faint hint of cinnamon.

  “It’s okay, Sunny. It’s okay. He’s gone.�
�

  His low voice tickled her ear as he held her tightly.

  She yearned to mold herself to him, to accept the comfort his body offered.

  He’d promised her he’d give his life to find her child. At this moment, she believed he could do anything. She pressed her face into the hollow of his neck, soaking up his strength.

  He took a sharp breath, stiffened, then stepped backward.

  She’d been leaning against him, so she almost stumbled, but he grasped her upper arms to steady her.

  Pain shrieked through her sore muscles. She cried out.

  He frowned and loosened his grip. “Let’s get inside.”

  Even though the temperature was mild and summery, Sunny began to shiver. She let Griff lead her up the steps and into the house.

  “Towels?”

  She pointed at the door on the left side of the foyer. The downstairs guest room had its own bath. “I—I’ll get them,” she said through chattering teeth.

  But Griff ignored her and disappeared through the door, reappearing a moment later with a white fluffy towel. He scrubbed his face and hair, then approached her.

  She held out a shaky hand.

  Griff cursed under his breath. “That sorry scumbag.” His voice was harsh as he reached out toward her, his fingers stopping a fraction of an inch away from her arm.

  She winced involuntarily, then looked down. Large red ovals on her skin were beginning to turn a deep blue-black.

  “He hurt you.” His voice was soft, but fury blazed from his eyes. “Did he—”

  She shook her head, and rubbed her sore arms.

  “Who was it? Did you know him?”

  “It was Burt Means.” She shivered, reaching for the towel.

  “You’re going to have to wait until the police examine you. Here. I’ll dry your face.”

  Sunny closed her eyes as he gently, carefully patted away a few drops of water from her eyes. She shivered when he brushed a lock of wet hair off her forehead.

  “He came here to get Emily.” Tears clogged her throat. “He doesn’t have her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “He was too angry. He’s convinced I’ve hidden her somewhere.”