by Stacy Green
The words bottlenecked in her throat. Jaymee took a drink of iced tea. “My father came to visit. Told me I was hurting Lana by staying, interfering with her last months of school and plans for her wedding.”
“Did you tell him about Wilcher?” Oren asked.
“I didn’t have the courage to bring it up, but I told him I wanted to find Sarah–that I never wanted to give her up in the first place. I told him Lana thought the adoption might be illegal.”
“What did your old man say to that?” Oren pulled out another strand of licorice, ripped it in half, and then stuck a piece into his mouth.
“He laughed. Said it didn’t matter. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do to get her back. He threatened me, said I’d ruin the family name. Said I’d ruin Lana’s name by dragging her into it. That I’d shoot down her career before it even started.”
“You believed him?” Lorelai asked.
“I was ten weeks postpartum. Young, scared, and feeling completely manipulated. I didn’t know what to do. Nick and Lana were arguing, and I wouldn’t let her tell him. I didn’t want to screw things up for her. And maybe it was better for Sarah. Paul…” She balled her hands into fists tight enough for her short nails to dig into her sweating palms. “He reminded me that if Sarah were around to shame him, he’d make her life as miserable as he made mine. I couldn’t do that to her.”
A teardrop splashed onto the table. Jaymee wiped it away. “I really thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I know. And Lana was a bulldog,” Oren said. “She wasn’t going to give up.”
“You knew she was still searching?” Nick stepped to the table. His eyes were bloodshot with either sadness or anger–Jaymee couldn’t tell which. “And you never mentioned it? Even when she was killed?”
“I knew it was a project,” Oren said. “But I never thought about her being killed over it.”
“She was,” Nick said. “So were Rebecca Newton and Crystal Harns. Each one of them knew enough to bring Holden and his partners down.”
Oren finished his licorice. “You’re going to have to catch me up here, now.”
“Me, too,” Lorelai’s voice rang with anger. “If you thought our daughter was killed because she was helping you, why didn’t you speak up years ago?”
“I didn’t know,” Jaymee said. “Not until Rebecca was murdered and I heard about the social worker’s card. That’s when I realized.”
Lorelai splayed her hands over the table, and when she spoke, her emotions were barely controlled. She looked at Jaymee, then Nick, and then Cage. “I want you three to tell us exactly why you think a fake adoption got our daughter and two other women killed.”
After she heard their theory, Lorelai refused to speak to any of them. She simply got up from the table and left the room. Seconds later, her feet thudded on the stairs.
“She hates me, and I don’t blame her,” Jaymee said.
“Nah,” Oren said. “It’s me she’s really angry at. I knew something about Lana she didn’t. I chose to keep it from her.” He sighed. “I’ll have an ass-chewing later, but she’ll be fine. Give her time.”
“We don’t have any,” Nick said. “Not to prove Holden was the father. We’ve got to get enough proof to warrant a DNA test.”
“That’s tough when he’s missing.” Cage said. “Piece of shit is probably hiding out somewhere. Bet he staged all this, knowing the heat would be on Jaymee.”
“You’re probably right,” Jaymee said. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to my parents’ house. I’ll break in if I have to, search through the rest of Holden’s stuff. There might be something my mother missed.”
“You won’t,” Nick and Cage both said. They glared at each other.
Finally, Cage relented. “You go. She might actually listen.”
“Your father is the prime suspect right now,” Nick said. “You aren’t going over there at all. I have to leave early tomorrow, but Cage or Oren will take you to work and pick you up. You don’t set foot outside the diner unless one of them is with you. Got it?”
Jaymee’s hackles instinctively rose. She sat back in the kitchen chair, arms crossed, and sneered at Nick. He stared back without a trace of combativeness or anger. Instead, genuine concern clouded his eyes. Her shoulders slumped. “All right. But how am I supposed to just sit around and wait while you’re in Jackson?”
“You’ll manage,” Nick said. His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. His eyes widened, flashing with excitement.
“Is it Debra Davies?” Jaymee asked. “Let me talk to her.”
Nick waved her off. “Better. Elaine Andrews.” He put a finger to his lips and then answered the phone. “Hello?”
Jaymee strained to hear, but she didn’t have to wait long. Nick held the phone out. “She wants to speak with you.”
All three men watched in silence while Jaymee took the phone with an unsteady hand. She closed her eyes. Their scrutiny was paralyzing. “Hi, Elaine. This is Jaymee.”
Silence.
Jaymee waited for a beat and then desperation won out. “I confronted Holden. He told me my daughter was leaving the country with her adoptive parents this weekend. Now he’s missing, and I think he’s gone into hiding. If I don’t get enough evidence for a warrant for his DNA, I’ll never have a chance at getting her back.”
“What if she’s happy?” Elaine asked. “Did you ever think of that? That maybe the people who adopted her are victims too? And that you’ll be stealing away the child they’ve always thought of as their own?”
She hadn’t, and she didn’t want to start right now. “But don’t they deserve the truth? Don’t we all?”
Elaine didn’t respond. Jaymee heard her breathing and matched her own nervous gasps to the woman’s. This was their best shot.
“All right, I’ll talk. But only in Jackson. You’ve got to come to me.”
24
Nick left before the sun came up and arrived in Jackson by seven a.m. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Elaine finally agreed to meet him without Jaymee. Last night, he’d been positive the safest place for her was in Roselea under the watchful eye of Cage, but now that he was ninety miles away from her, Nick wasn’t so sure.
He couldn’t shake the feeling they were missing something vital, something that would stand the case on its head. Something that might get Jaymee killed.
He tried to relax by gorging on a stack of pancakes, but the coffee he had consumed on the drive made him jittery. Tapping his knife on the table, Nick watched the clock. Elaine was late. She’d insisted on meeting him here at an old Denny’s in Pearl, a small town about five miles east of Jackson.
He’d chosen his spot strategically, sitting in a back corner booth and facing the door. Elaine said she’d be wearing a white blouse and blue skirt. Her hair was dark blond and shoulder length. So far, no woman matching that description had shown up. And if Elaine stood him up, she’d make his appointment this afternoon next to impossible to pull off.
Nick poured another cup of coffee from the chrome canister followed by two packets of sugar. If Elaine didn’t show, he’d call Kara Butler, Lana’s friend at the courthouse, and see if she could tell him where Andrews worked.
His phone vibrated. He snatched it, expecting to see the same number Elaine had called from, but instead saw Detective Charles’s number. Panic hummed in his throat.
“Hello?”
“You in Jackson?” Charles wasted no time.
“Yeah. Elaine Andrews called, wants to talk supposedly. I’m waiting for her.”
“Watch yourself. Royce Newton’s M.I.A too.”
“Since when?”
“I went to Evaline last night, place was closed up. Car wasn’t in the garage.”
“You think he and Holden are hiding out somewhere?”
“If you and Jaymee are right about all this, it makes sense.” Charles cleared his throat. “We’ve finally got a hit on Newton’s financials. Ever heard of RLN Enterpris
es?”
“No.”
“Looks like some sort of dummy corporation he’s got set up. Nice chunk of change deposited like clockwork every month.”
Nick listened to Charles’s explanation with growing suspicion. It was looking more and more like Royce and Holden had gotten spooked and decided to run. If he could get Elaine Andrews on his side, this afternoon had potential. He could use the men’s disappearing act to his advantage.
“Nick Samuels?”
His head jerked up. Standing next to the booth was a woman in a blue skirt and white blouse. Her dark blond hair hung around her hunched shoulders, and she wore a pair of large sunglasses. Her fingers trembled.
“Elaine?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll check in later.” Nick ended the call and stood to offer his hand, but she sat down, half-crouched in the booth. She pulled and squeezed her bottom lip, then dug into her purse, retrieving a pack of Camel Lights. She drew one out and stuck it in her mouth, making the lines around her lips more prominent.
“I know I can’t smoke in here. Calms me.”
A waitress approached, but Elaine waved her off. Her black sunglasses made her look like an overgrown praying mantis. One more glance around, and she finally pushed the sunglasses back on her head. A smattering of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were an average brown. Her face was full, matched to a body that carried some extra weight but still sported a healthy figure. Laugh lines around her eyes hinted at a woman who was usually much happier.
“Are you being followed?” Nick asked.
“There was a strange car parked outside my house this morning. Tinted windows. I couldn’t tell who was driving, but I think it followed me. I eventually lost track of it.”
Elaine took the cigarette out of her mouth, holding it like a seasoned smoker. “Not that I was surprised. Someone’s willing to go pretty damned far to keep Wilcher’s dirty secrets. He’s already killed two women.”
“Three,” Nick corrected.
Elaine scrunched her eyes shut and jammed the Camel back into her mouth with an unsteady hand. “Three?”
Nick explained about Crystal. “She had ties to all of the suspects, and she knew about Jaymee’s daughter. We’re not sure why she was killed, but police believe her murder is connected.”
Elaine chewed on the unlit Camel.
“Look, you’re scared, and I’m stressed out,” Nick said. “When we spoke the other day, you talked about Lana having all the evidence she needed to bring Holden Wilcher down. Nothing like that was recovered with her body. I’ve seen the evidence.”
“Must be nice to be a big-shot reporter with connections.”
“Sometimes.”
Elaine grabbed an empty coffee cup and filled it to the brim with the pot the waitress had left for Nick earlier. “When I was twenty, I was a member of New Life Baptist. Wilcher had only been preaching there for a year, maybe two. My parents took their role in the church seriously and immediately buddied up to the new pastor. Before long, he was coming over for family dinner on Sunday.”
“Were you still living at home?”
“During college, yes. One Sunday, Holden volunteered to drive me back to school.” She ran the cigarette across her lips. “He was different on that ride. Much more charming. Personal. Flirty.”
“He pursued you.”
Elaine’s smile was brittle. “I’m no beauty queen now, but I can hold my own against most women. Back then, though, I was a good twenty pounds overweight and a bookworm. Afraid of my own shadow and too self-conscious to dress properly or think about having a boyfriend. Church was my social life.”
“I see where this is going,” Nick said. “Wilcher’s a predator.”
“And I was ripe for the screwing.”
“Then you got pregnant. What’d he do?”
“Panicked, at first. We were in his car. A white Chevy Malibu. Nothing fancy for him back then. He didn’t have any more money than the rest of us.” Elaine looked around the nearly empty restaurant. Satisfied no one was paying them any attention, she continued. “Carried on about how I was going to ruin him.
“So there we were, me feeling like the world’s biggest tramp, when suddenly, Holden stopped. His face lit up, and he turned to me with this look. I still remember it to this day. His eyes were wild, and he was grinning like some sort of rabid hyena, his skin all flushed over his tan. I felt like ice water had been thrown over me, and I knew things were going to go south.
“Construction had just been completed on his unwed mother’s home. He and his wife–who, by the way, Holden always said suffered from social anxiety and rarely left the house–couldn’t have kids, but she wanted to help women who got themselves in trouble.” Elaine paused to balance her smoke between her lips. “As if it only takes one to make a child. Anyway, me being pregnant made me his poster child.”
“For Hannah’s House.”
Elaine let the Camel fall from her mouth. Her face twisted up in a grimace of hate. “Hannah’s my middle name. At the time, I thought the choice was endearing. So stupid. He was just mocking me.
“So he convinced me to keep his name out of it. After all, I’d ruin so many lives. People were counting on him, and besides, I’d told him I was on the pill. That made it my fault. I believed him. He went with me to tell my parents. We told them I’d come to him first for support. He kept my father from smacking me. Gave them his brilliant plan. All that was left to be finished on Hannah’s House was some interior work, so I could move in. My parents knew they couldn’t hide me, but they didn’t want to flash me around town, either. I spent almost eight months in that damned place listening to the racket of the workers finishing the rooms.”
“What about school?” Nick asked.
“Oh, I finished. That was part of my agreement with Holden. I kept quiet, but he helped with tuition. His offer, not my request.”
“And when your son was born?”
She tried once again to smoke the unlit cigarette. “Couple of weeks before he was born, Holden came to me. Hannah’s House had been fully established by then, and he said he was working with an adoption agency. I kept waiting to meet a social worker or an attorney, but Holden told me and my parents he’d handle all of that. Anyway, suddenly, he’s found the perfect couple. Problem is, they don’t qualify for adoption because of her health. He ranted about how stupid it was because they had plenty of money and were a good, loving family. Finally he got down to the point. They’d offered him $50,000 for an infant.”
“Hard to pass up.”
“I told him no. This was my child, and selling him like produce was unimaginable. But I was tired. Full of hormones. And I still thought I loved this man. He told me how my half of the money would be enough to help me finish school, and the rest would be a great help to Hannah’s House. There were other prospective parents for the baby, but so far, none had been approved. If I didn’t accept the offer, I’d have no say in who adopted him. What if he went into an abusive home? I couldn’t handle that thought.”
“So you agreed to sell him.” Nick tried to keep his voice neutral, but the look on Elaine’s face proved he’d failed.
“Believe me,” she said. “Not a day goes by I don’t regret it. I’m not going to try to make you understand my reasoning. I’m here to give you some answers about Lana. That’s it.”
“Fair enough.”
“So I agreed. On one condition.”
“Which was?”
“I wanted to meet the couple. I wanted them given a complete record of our health history. That way, if the boy got sick down the line, they’d have all of that information, just as they would have if the adoption had been legal. And I wanted my own copy. Holden fought against it, but it was the only way I would agree to the deal.” She put the Camel down. “I tried to do the right thing by my child.”
“I’m sure you did.” Nick worked to make sense of what she was saying. “So you’re telling me–”
“I have a copy of Holden’s medical records, complete with blood type, as well as my son’s. I know the name of his adoptive parents.”
“How do you know the records are really Holden’s? What if he gave you bogus information?”
This time, her smile was sly. Elaine didn’t look like a victim anymore. She looked like a woman who’d learned how to play the game and take care of herself.
“Didn’t matter. By then, I knew I had the upper hand. Holden’s television show was just getting popular outside of Mississippi, and that fame was very important to him. I realized he didn’t love me and never had. I told him he didn’t have to sign the copy of the birth certificate the adoptive parents received, but I wanted a signed statement that he was my son’s father. For my own financial protection.”
Nick’s breath came in short huffs. “And that’s what Lana had.”
“Yes.”
“So how did it work? The adoptive parents had a birth certificate but an illegal adoption. How did they file it or get the kid a social security number?”
Elaine shrugged. “They had money. And connections to a federal court judge. Helps.”
“Why didn’t you just expose him then? If you loved your kid, why did you take the money?”
She took a long sip of her coffee. “When I met the adoptive parents, my heart broke. She was a diabetic on insulin. Her doctor said she was perfectly capable of caring for a child, but the powers-that-be saw differently, and they were scratched from the list. They’d tried for three years to get back on, but no one would listen. All they wanted was a child to love.”
“So you felt sorry for them.”
“I knew I was too selfish to be a decent mother. And that woman deserved to be one.”
“And you got paid for your kindness.”
“That money is in a trust for my daughter. I never touched a cent of it. And why do you think I became a social worker? I knew what I did was wrong, but I also knew I’d been manipulated into believing I had no other choice.
“And I thought I was succeeding. Until a few years later when I overheard a woman talking in the records room at the courthouse. She kept telling someone she’d prove the adoption wasn’t legal, that the preacher had sold the baby.”