Taking another swig of beer, Mac decided not to respond. Instead, he cut directly to the chase. “Do you have any new info for me about Cavell or his wife?” Joe had promised to use the vast law enforcement network to keep Mac informed if anything else surfaced about Emily’s former husband.
“There’s a ton of information, but I had to jump through hoops to get it.” Joe sighed. “Since I’m in Albany, upstate, it hasn’t been easy. NYPD is pretty tight about releasing anything to an outside agency.”
Startled, Mac blinked. “NYPD? This was a federal investigation. Since you worked with them once, I thought you were going through them.”
“I’m trying, but you know as well as I do that getting anything from the Feds is like pulling teeth. I’m also relying on an old friend at the NYPD. He’s worked there for years.”
Mac frowned. This didn’t make a lot of sense. While agencies frequently shared information, the Feds were notoriously tight-lipped with cases of this caliber, which was no doubt still going on since Carlos Cavell’s death was the only part of the huge investigation that had actually been solved. They’d have been more likely to talk directly to Joe since he’d done work with them in the past on this case. Mac didn’t think they would share with NYPD unless they had a damn good reason.
However, Joe had no reason to lie. If he said NYPD had info, then Mac believed him.
“So did you get something?” Mac asked.
“Yep, though I don’t know if there’s anything useful. My contact emailed me everything he had. There’s a lot of paper. I’m sorting through it bit by bit. I’m hoping to finish up by the end of this week.”
“Thanks.” Curious, Mac scratched his head. “What reason did you give NYPD for wanting copies of the files?”
Joe laughed. “First off, I didn’t go through official channels. Second, I used the good old standard—ongoing investigation. My buddy didn’t ask a lot of questions. He owed me a favor, so I called it in.”
“I really appreciate that,” Mac said and meant it.
“No problem. Hey, Mac?” Joe’s voice rang with fierce determination. “When you get to see the kid, take a cell phone picture or something and send it to me. I’d really like to see it, okay?”
Mac found himself grinning, his inner turmoil easing somewhat. Sometimes he really missed his friend. “Sure will, buddy. Talk to you later.”
Placing the phone on the table, Mac picked at the last of his fries. Joe was so hopeful for him and really enthusiastic over the prospect of Mac finally being reunited with his son. Mac appreciated that. It felt good to actually have a good friend on his side—especially since Joe’s tireless efforts on Mac’s behalf had led to him being the one to actually find Ryan.
Scratching his head, he drained his beer. He couldn’t help but wonder why he felt so reluctant to share his good fortune with Joe. Maybe it was because he didn’t yet know the truth. That had to be it.
Satisfied, he wandered into the living room and turned on the TV. For the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to tomorrow and the new day. Maybe in Anniversary he’d finally found a place he could call home.
* * *
When the doorbell chimed a little after 5:00 p.m., Emily’s first inclination was to ignore it. After all, she and Ryan were going to spend the next couple of hours lounging in front of the TV, trying to regain a sense of normalcy.
Still, just in case Mac had decided to come back for some reason, she looked through the peephole.
An unfamiliar blonde woman stood on her front step. She was young, pretty, and wearing a low-cut, formfitting red dress and four-inch platform heels that wouldn’t have been out of place on a stripper. Curious, Emily opened the door. “Yes?”
Long-lashed and heavily made-up brown eyes stared her down. “Are you Emily Cavell?”
Instantly, silent alarms went off. “My last name is Gilley,” Emily answered. “What do you want?”
Undeterred by Emily’s icy tone, the blonde continued to study her. “I’m Desiree. Maybe Carlos mentioned me?”
Carlos. With dawning horror, Emily realized who this woman was. She was one of Carlos’s former mistresses. Her heart began to pound. It took every ounce of willpower not to slam the door in the woman’s face.
“What do you want?” Emily asked again.
“I need to talk to you.” Desiree looked pointedly past Emily toward the living room. “Can I come in?”
“No.” No way was she letting this woman inside the house where her son lay sleeping. Instead, she stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind her. “If you want to talk, then talk,” she ordered. “Otherwise, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, not yet,” Desiree said grimly. “Not until I’ve gotten what I came for.”
At that moment, Emily realized the vulnerable position she’d just put herself in. Unarmed, without even her cell phone, she stood outside in plain view. If anyone wanted to ambush her, she’d be easy pickings.
Instead of responding to what sounded like an overt threat, Emily simply crossed her arms and waited. She kept her back to the door, the handle within reach in case she needed to beat a hasty retreat.
“Carlos gave me some jewelry,” Desiree said when it became apparent that Emily wasn’t going to question her. “A beautiful diamond necklace and tennis bracelet. He took them to get them professionally cleaned.”
“And?”
Desiree coughed delicately. “Well, he died before returning them. I’d like to get them back.”
Though her relief was so great that Emily nearly laughed out loud, she managed to keep her face expressionless. She’d thought this woman had come looking for her son. Instead, she wanted some baubles?
“Was that what this was all about? The threats, the break-in?”
“Threats? Break-in?” Desiree sounded genuinely puzzled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. A friend in the NYPD told me I would get my jewelry back when the investigation into Carlos’s death was complete. But I didn’t.”
“The investigation wound down several years ago,” Emily pointed out.
“I know.” Desiree pouted prettily. “And believe me, I was bummed when you disappeared. But my friend found you and told me to go see you. So here I am. I’m ready to collect what belongs to me.”
Emily froze. The last sentence was lifted right out of the threatening notes. Suddenly afraid, she forced herself to lift her chin and hide her fear. “I’m sorry. I don’t have your jewelry.”
Desiree frowned, a small crease forming between her perfectly shaped brows. “I don’t believe you.”
“Everything Carlos had was liquidated to pay debts. I never saw any diamond necklace or bracelet.”
“These were very valuable—” Desiree began.
Emily had had enough. “I understand, and I’m sorry,” she said, turning to go back inside.
Desiree grabbed her arm. “I’ve come a long way. I’ll report you for theft.”
Emily jerked away, heart beating a furious tattoo in her chest. “Go right ahead. Now I’m asking you to leave my property.”
The other woman didn’t move. “Or what?”
“Or I’m calling the police.”
Inside, the phone rang. Praying Desiree wouldn’t try to force her way inside, Emily turned, yanked open the door, stepped around it and slammed it closed in the other woman’s face. Still stunned and shaken, she slid the dead bolt into place before running to grab the still-ringing phone.
“Emily?”
Mac. She closed her eyes. Thank God. “Please come,” she croaked. “Come quick.”
Five minutes later, she heard his car screech down her street and pull up in her driveway. By the time he reached her front door, she thought she’d managed to pull herself together, gathering her shredded composure into some semblance of rational normalcy.
Yanking open the door, she stepped aside so he could enter. Instead, he pulled her close for a quick hug. Dazedly, she wondered if he hugged all
his victims.
Once he’d released her, she swallowed hard and raised her head. “One of Carlos’s mistresses was here.”
Mac nodded. Jaw clenched and steely eyed, he looked both concerned and furious. “Tell me what happened.”
When she relayed what Desiree had said, his expression grew thunderous. “Did she admit to breaking into your house?”
“No.” She pushed away the urge to step closer to him in the hopes he’d hold her again. For some foolish reason, being close to him gave her strength.
“What about the threatening note?”
Again she shook her head. “I’m guessing it was her, don’t you think?”
“I never guess when it comes to this kind of thing. Remember, we have more than one suspect. There’s that guy you dated, Tim Keeslar. I haven’t been able to locate him yet. And there’s my dispatcher, Chris, or Franco or whatever his name really is. Now we’ve got this woman.”
She watched as he pulled a pad and pen from his pocket. “Tell me everything you remember. What was her name?”
“I almost hate to say it,” she admitted. “It’s pretty cliché. She said her name was Desiree.”
One corner of his mouth twitched, but to his credit, he didn’t laugh. He asked several more questions, jotting down all her answers. When he’d finished, he put away the pad and pen and stood staring at her for a moment.
Suddenly tongue-tied, she colored as she realized she’d been staring at his mouth.
Full of longing, she met his gaze, aware he’d most likely been able to see her completely inappropriate desire.
Instead of commenting, he took a step toward her. She moved toward him and somehow wound up exactly where she wanted to be—in his arms.
Chapter 6
He tasted like spearmint and safety, and as Emily relaxed into his embrace, she could feel the tight leash he kept on his passion. Despite that, explosive currents washed over her, making her body throb.
Unconsciously, she leaned into him and deepened the kiss. The sheer maleness of him sent shivers to her core. Briefly, she wondered if he felt the same, then decided she didn’t care.
He held her snugly, making no effort to break away, and when she raised her head to take a breath, he reclaimed her lips almost instantly. The kiss was heady, despite its odd gentleness, and left her mouth burning.
She wanted none of this; she wanted more. She wanted...giving up the struggle for rational thought, she returned his kiss with a recklessness that wasn’t at all like her.
When they finally broke apart—this time for good—both of them were breathing heavily. His eyes had gone dark, but his expression had turned to stone.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” she began. “I—”
“I agree.” His harsh voice sounded raw. “Let’s pretend it didn’t and stick to business.”
Though his swift dismissal stung, she knew he was right. While she struggled to organize her thoughts, he moved toward the door. “I’ll see what I can find out about this Desiree. If I locate her or find any information about her I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” she answered. “Though I may not be here after today.”
He froze. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. “Where will you be?”
With a casual shrug, she hoped her tone sounded as expressionless as his. “I’m thinking about simply packing up and leaving town.”
“Running? Again?”
“Don’t talk as though you know me,” she said, her sharp voice masking her hurt. “I’ll do what I think best. I won’t leave unless I have to. I want Ryan to have this.” She spread her arms, turning to encompass her ordinary house with the lush suburban yard. “A place he can put down roots. Friends he’ll have through all his school years. A sense of permanence. I don’t want to yank him from town to town, always on the run, always looking over our shoulders.”
“That’s commendable,” he said. “Fighting is always preferable, at least as far as I’m concerned.”
There was something in his voice. “Is that what you’ve done?” she asked softly. “Fought for what you want?”
Her question startled him. Dark emotion flashed in his eyes a second before he slammed the lid down on it. “It’s better than running,” he repeated.
She noticed he didn’t answer her question. Fine. She didn’t really care anyway. She only had enough energy to worry about her son. “If things get bad enough where I have no choice, then both Ryan and I are out of here. We’ll go in the night, without notice to you or anyone else. Do you understand?”
“Of course,” he said, “but I doubt it’s going to come to that. Believe me, I want to catch this guy as bad as you do.”
Nodding, she swallowed hard and then took a big leap of faith. “Then I need you to do one more favor for me. I need you to help me find out the truth about Ryan’s adoption. I think if I can do that then we can figure out who this crazy person is and why he or she is stalking me.”
* * *
Despite the earth-shattering honesty of the kiss they’d shared, Mac could barely contain his shock at her trusting words. If Emily truly meant what she’d just said—and the raw sincerity in her voice told him she did—he had to believe she really didn’t know what the truth about Ryan.
In all the scenarios he’d imagined, he hadn’t thought of this possibility. He’d been prepared for so long to do battle with the woman who’d stolen his son and now...now the best thing he could do was reserve all judgment and guide her to the truth about where her son had come from. But could he do so and remain objective? That was the question. He didn’t know the answer, but he’d certainly have to try.
With a start, he realized she watched him with trust and hope shining naked from her beautiful brown eyes. For half a second he felt like a heel then realized he’d done nothing wrong.
“I know we’ve been over this, but we need to go over it again. Let’s start at the beginning.” Hand at the small of her back, he gently guided her toward the house. He liked touching her. Something about her delicate, willowy physique brought out the protector in him. He hadn’t felt at all like that in the time since his wife had died and his son disappeared. Since he’d been unable to protect either one of them, he supposed that was natural.
But feeling like that about Emily was all kinds of wrong—at least until they learned the truth about whether or not she and her former husband had been the ones who’d stolen his son.
When she took a seat on her sofa and motioned him to the chair, her caramel eyes blazed with determination and suppressed anger. While he reluctantly admired her spunk, he didn’t want her doing anything brave and crazy.
“I’ve already told you everything I know,” she began, her words trailing off as he shook his head.
“I know, but even if we’ve already gone over this, I want you to tell me everything you remember about adopting Ryan. There might be some kernel of information there that you might have overlooked.”
“All right.” Sitting back, she briefly closed her eyes, as though she needed to gather her strength to relive the past. Watching her in this unguarded moment, the way the light reflected on her creamy skin and the sexy way the shagginess of her dark hair set off her delicately carved facial structure, he fought the urge to touch her, to pull her close and lend her strength. Ridiculous, yet even as he mentally scoffed at his own foolishness, his body stirred at her unconscious loveliness. She was everything he was not—beauty and grace and compassion, a perfect mother for Ryan. Though her marriage had failed, she’d make some man a wonderful wife.
Damn. Throat aching, he looked away, cursing the fact that he had to struggle to regain his composure. He swallowed hard, and forced himself to concentrate. “Start at the beginning,” he urged, his voice remarkably steady. “I assume you and your husband had been trying to conceive.”
Her amazing eyes flew open, briefly reflecting her anguish when she thought of that long ago time. For a moment, she bowed her head, and when she lift
ed it again, he knew how hard it was for her to bare her soul to him.
“Yes,” she said. “I wanted children. Carlos said he did, but I think he only agreed because if I was busy with babies he would be free to do whatever he wanted.”
Something stirred in him at her unguarded words—something foolish and dangerous and completely misplaced. Clearing his throat, he kept asking the questions that he knew he must. “Yours wasn’t a happy marriage?”
“No.” The admission seemed to startle her. “I truly didn’t know my husband when I married him. I thought I did, really. But like a lot of other young women, I overlooked a lot of things. Many of those I believed I could change once we were married.”
“Change how?”
She ducked her head, her face coloring as though embarrassed. “With the power of my love.” She sighed, then continued. “I did love him once.”
He didn’t comment. How could he? Once, he’d been exactly the same with his wife, Sarah. Luckily for them, she’d settled down, tamed her wildness and began working on their marriage. Otherwise, he had no doubt they wouldn’t have lasted past the first year.
“I know what you mean. I’ve forgiven much,” he said. “In the name of love.”
“Thank you.” Her relieved smile told him she appreciated the small kindness. “Anyway, Carlos humored me with what he called the baby obsession. But no matter what, I just couldn’t get pregnant.”
“So you had tests?”
“No.” Her expression clouded. “He refused. I don’t think he could have handled it if he learned the infertility was his fault. He was so—” she waved a hand vaguely “—macho, you know?”
He didn’t know. He’d never met the man. But from the videos he’d watched of police interrogations, Carlos Cavell had been a preening peacock of a man. Mac couldn’t even begin to picture him with a woman like Emily.
“Go on.”
Twisting her hands in her lap, she continued. “Anyway, after a while of trying, he said he was done. He told me if I wanted a baby so much, then I needed to go ahead and adopt one. His only stipulation was that the child be a boy.”
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