Lost But Not Forgotten (17 page)

While she pumped her two gallons of gas, she kept a wary eye on the street.
Done at last!
She hurried inside and dumped her sweaty handful of change on the counter, gave the pump number and started to dash out again.

“Sheesh, lady,” grumbled the zit-faced teen at the register. “What did you do, rob your kid’s piggy bank?”

Gillian hunched her shoulders to ward off his sarcasm. Yet she didn’t turn back. If someone came looking, the
less she stood out, the better. It was a cinch the boy wouldn’t soon forget her, though. With luck, however, he might not have gotten a clear look at the vehicle she drove.

To keep from making a U-turn in front of his window, she backtracked two blocks down a one-way street, circled the station and emerged several streets beyond where she’d bought the gas. Time ticked. Jeez, almost four-thirty.

M
ITCH DRUMMED
his fingers on Ethan’s dashboard, nervously awaiting the report he expected to pop up on Ethan’s laptop CAD screen.

“Anything yet?” Ethan, who knew the best routes to navigate Desert City, sped down an alley guaranteed to take ten minutes off their drive.

“Nothing. Wait, something’s coming up now.” Mitch tilted the screen to see it in the light of the car’s dash.

“Well?” Ethan demanded when the silence expanded and Mitch continued to stare.

“Hold your horses. There’s no criminal record on Noelle McGrath, although there’s a warrant for her in Louisiana. She’s wanted for questioning in the drive-by shooting of her husband, Daryl. The way I read this, she disappeared suddenly, leaving furniture, clothing and a car behind at her town house. Dispatch put me on hold while they scan in a newspaper article and a driver’s license photo ID.”

Ethan tossed Mitch his cell phone. “When you get the birth date off the license, ask them to run searches on a mix of the two names. See if we can pick up a definite connection between the McGrath woman and your Gillian.”

“There’s no need,” Mitch said, closing his eyes and
rubbing at the frown lines forming between his eyebrows. “The picture’s grainy. She’s got really light hair in the photo and it’s longer. But it’s Gilly, all right. There’s no disguising the shape of her face, or her smile.”

Reaching across the seat, Ethan gave Mitch’s shoulder a bracing squeeze. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He let his foot off the gas. “Shall I phone Villareal, and we’ll turn back? Regan told me to bring you to the house for breakfast,” he said placatingly.

“I know it looks bad on the surface, Ethan. But I refuse to believe that Gilly or Noelle—or whatever the hell her name is—did anything criminal. I won’t be satisfied until I hear the story from her own lips. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer we try to catch up.”

“I don’t mind as long as you’re prepared to accept the consequences.”

“You mean, watch while you cuff and book her?”

“You wouldn’t be so foolish as to try to interfere, would you, Mitch?”

Mitch’s expression was pained. “Who I am hasn’t changed because I turned in my badge. I’m still one of the good guys.”

“Okay. I’ve got to admit,” Ethan growled, “that lately you’ve had me worried. But then, I’ve hardly made a secret of the fact that from the first day I met her, I’ve been uneasy about your Gillian Stevens.”

Mitch didn’t bring up the few times he’d felt she was holding back, or hiding something. The last thing he wanted to do was change Ethan’s mind about helping him locate Gilly.

“So what’s the game plan?” Ethan asked once they’d reached the outskirts of town and were headed down the perimeter road toward Mitch’s ranch.

“Let me think a minute. If she
is
there and we roar
down my lane, she could climb in her car or my truck and light out across the desert—like that driver who left the suitcase.”

“I thought you said you’d fixed the fence.”

“Yeah. Except Gilly was out here yesterday. She’ll know it’s a matter of circling around the toolshed and the black walnut tree to skirt the fence.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We need an alternative plan.”

Mitch closed the laptop computer and set it aside. “I wish I knew how much of a head start she had.”

“What are you thinking? Spit it out.”

“It’d take longer, but we can stop at Dave’s, saddle a couple of his horses and ride to my place across the back pasture.”

“Sounds workable to me. I’d suggest we leave Trooper with Dave. We can take Taz. He might distract her if she’s armed.”

“She’s not going to be armed!”

“You don’t know that, Mitch. Louisiana wants to question her about a drive-by, for God’s sake.”

Mitch stared at his friend in the dusky morning light beginning to filter into Ethan’s Suzuki.

“Have it your way. Slow down, or you’ll miss Dave’s drive. There, turn. I guess we’ll know soon enough which one of us is right.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch. Honest to God, I wish it hadn’t ended this way.”

“Nothing’s ended, Ethan. First, I want to hear what Gilly has to say.”

Ethan’s snort voiced his opinion as effectively as any words.

I
N
G
ILLIAN’S HASTE
to reach the ranch, collect her belongings and be on her way, she missed Mitch’s lane. Because it was still pitch-black out, she also missed the narrow crossover between the two lanes of the divided road. She knew the crossovers weren’t meant to be used by motorists. There were signs everywhere saying they were for emergency vehicles only. However, this perimeter road was so sparsely traveled, she didn’t think there was much chance of anyone seeing and reporting her indiscretion.

She did grow extremely nervous when it proved to be five miles down the road to the next crossing to a path that was barely defined. But cross it she did. Afterward, she heaved a huge sigh, wanting badly to step on the gas and speed all the way to Mitch’s ranch. However, from the moment she’d pumped gas into his pickup, she’d cautioned herself to obey traffic laws, no matter how great her urgency.

Halfway down Mitch’s lane, she turned off her lights and crept forward. She’d come this far; it wouldn’t pay now to get careless. Until yesterday, she hadn’t realized how close his house sat to his neighbor’s. Now that she knew, and also knew the men watched out for each other’s property, she didn’t want to risk his friend seeing her lights and maybe coming to investigate.

She slowed even more when she drove out from the covering of trees. Faint light, beginning to break in the east, made it easier to assess what lay ahead. Her car stood exactly where she’d left it. Her key would be inside on Mitch’s kitchen counter. There was no light on in the house. Gillian shut off the ignition and sorted through his keys for the one most likely to open his door.

It shouldn’t feel like breaking and entering. But it did. Her stomach thrashed and bile rose when she slid out of
the pickup. For maybe the first time since the start of this debacle, she considered giving up.

What would Mitch do if she turned around now, went back to town and threw herself on his mercy? It was tempting. So very tempting. Of course she couldn’t. It’d be too unfair to involve anyone she cared about in this unholy mess.

Startled, she realized she
did
care for Mitch Valetti. A lot. More than someone in her position ought to. The best thing she could do for both of them, she decided with an increasingly heavier heart, was to disappear permanently from his life.

As she stumbled up his porch steps, she was unable to see Mitch’s front door for the blinding flood of tears.

“H
I
, D
AVE
.” Mitch hopped out of Ethan’s SUV and hailed his neighbor, who’d just come from his barn leading a saddled horse.

“What brings you two out here before daybreak?” Dave met them with an outstretched hand and a grin.

“You seen any activity around my house this morning?”

Dave gave a shake of his head. “You got trouble over there again?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Ethan and I need the element of surprise. Would you mind keeping Trooper and also lending us two horses? We thought we’d ride in the back way and sneak past my barn.”

“This have anything to do with the guys who tore out your fence and scared the daylights out of your pregnant mare?”

Mitch tugged at his lower lip. “Doubtful.” But now he wondered if it tied in with Gillian. He’d thought at the time it was joyriding teens.

“I’ll need a few minutes to saddle an additional horse. Want me to go with you?” Dave asked hopefully.

“Like the cavalry?” Ethan said with a grin. “We aren’t anticipating trouble, Dave. If we run into any, I’ll signal the county for back-up. Technically, this is their territory. I don’t even have jurisdiction, although I can hold someone if need be. Mitch is involved strictly in the capacity of property owner. Aren’t you, Mitch?” he reiterated when Mitch failed to agree verbally or even nod.

“What? Sure, Ethan. I said up front that you’re calling the shots. So let’s get at it. Dave, don’t bother with a saddle. I’ll ride bareback.”

“I haven’t ridden a horse in so long, I hope I haven’t forgotten how.” Ethan mounted the saddled horse, watching Mitch swing up on the second one Dave led out.

“My hip’s feeling the effect of being in the saddle so long yesterday,” Mitch said, grimacing. “My whole side is sore.”

Ethan didn’t reply until after they’d left Dave’s land. “You know, Mitch, if you’d stuck to just riding horses yesterday, your hip might not be so stove up.”

Mitch scowled. “Needle me all you want. I’m not telling you if I slept with Gilly or not.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I didn’t pick up enough clues at her apartment to know the answer to
that,
now would I?”

“Then kindly keep your remarks to yourself.”

“Did I say anything in front of Dave?”

“No. And we’d better shut up. Sounds carry out here. The reason we’re bouncing across the field like this is to take Gilly by surprise.”

“Just one more question. Do you think she’ll switch
cars and take off like a shot, or are you guessing she’ll go inside first?”

“Her car key’s in my house. Plus, she left her place with nothing, as far as I could tell.”
Not that she had much to begin with.
Mitch wanted to tell Ethan about her meager material possessions. On the other hand, he didn’t want to say anything that might damage Gillian further in Ethan’s eyes. Detective Knight had a soft heart when it came to kids. Adults who broke the law didn’t fare so well.

Mitch had held the same views. Funny how turning in his badge made him see things differently. Or was his thinking skewed just where one woman was concerned?

They topped a rise looking down on Mitch’s property. He saw Ethan jab a finger. “My truck’s there,” he muttered. “So is Gilly’s car. Looks like we hit pay dirt, partner.” Both his tone and his heart were wooden.

“Can we tie up behind the barn and split up? One go in the front door and one in the back?” Ethan asked quietly, bringing Taz to heel with a hand motion.

The big dog’s ears pricked forward. His shoulders rippled with tension the way they did when he went on full alert.

“Okay,” Mitch said without inflection. He dug a coin out of his pocket. “Heads I stop her at the front door, tails I go in the back.”

Without looking at it, Ethan snagged the coin in midair as they dismounted. “I’m the only one here with a badge.”

“I know that.” Mitch failed to turn away fast enough to conceal the pain in his eyes.

Ethan clapped him firmly on the shoulder. “I promise, unless she pulls a piece, I’ll be gentle.”

“Yeah.” Mitch ducked his head.

“You won’t have to hike so far over rough ground if you take the front door. Taz and I’ll go in via the kitchen.”

Nodding this time, the men exchanged a thumbs-up. Still, Mitch felt a hole open up in his chest as Ethan bent double, skirted the barn and hugged the ground in his effort not to be seen from the house. He’d taken his weapon from his shoulder holster, which made him appear too damned official.

“I’m counting on you, Gilly babe,” Mitch whispered stonily. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with the consequences if he’d read her wrong and Ethan got hurt doing him this favor.

Though it was near impossible for him to crouch, Mitch knew he had to, since he’d be passing two windows. Gilly could look out either one and see him sneaking up to the porch. If she spotted him first, she had the shorter distance to dash to her car. Then they’d never get answers.

Most of all, Mitch wanted answers. Whatever mess Gillian was in, he wanted the names of those bastards who’d broken into her apartment.

Halfway up the porch steps, his leg cramped. He fell to one knee. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hobbled the remaining distance. Breathing hard, he reached for the doorknob and muttered a final prayer. Sucking in a last massive gulp of air, he planted his shoulder against the door and burst inside.

He’d got there before Ethan, whom he now heard jiggling the back door.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, Mitch or Gillian, as she screamed and spun away from his fireplace. In her hands she held baby Katie’s urn. As Mitch advanced, she maintained her grasp on the silver vase
and edged steadily toward the kitchen, which led to a back door. She hugged the urn protectively against her breasts.

Mitch heard Ethan splinter the lock to his back door—a noise that seemed to occur in a remote section of his brain. His sweeping gaze had landed on the suitcase still sitting on his coffee table. Neatly repacked, the blanket and frilly pink dress lay folded as they’d been when the bomb squad had first let him open the valise.

Finally, his breathing leveled and his knees felt strong again. Mitch lunged for Gillian, grabbing her none too gently. “What in hell are you doing with baby Katie?” he demanded, his grip so tight Gillian cried out in pain.

Ethan’s words came at him through a thick bank of fog. “You’re hurting her, Mitch. Let go. It’s pretty obvious if you ask me. At least one mystery here is solved.”

G
ILLIAN APPEARED
ready to bolt. From wide, stricken eyes, she darted panicky glances between Mitch, who blocked the entry to a bedroom door to the kitchen where even now Taz stood guard. The instant Ethan filled the archway, Gilly wrenched out of Mitch’s hold and sank wordlessly to the floor.

“Explain!” Mitch, still hurting from the stress he’d placed on his healing wounds, stared coldly down on her bowed head.

“Would it do any good?” she asked in a shaky voice. “If you’re working with them, I doubt my telling you I don’t have the key will make an impression.”

Mitch and Ethan exchanged bewildered glances.

Taz sank to his haunches, teeth no longer bared. His tail made swishing sounds on the hardwood as he awaited some kind of signal from his master.

“Them who?
What
key? Gillian—if that’s even your name—” Mitch shouted in exasperation, “for God’s sake, get up and sit on the couch instead of cowering on the damn floor. Ethan and I aren’t going to hurt you. We just want to know what the hell is going on.”

“I’m not cowering.” She tried to get up, but her knees refused to support her.

Noticing that she quailed all over, Mitch reached down and gently helped her to her feet. He escorted her to the leather couch where just yesterday she’d lain in a faint.

Ethan sauntered up to the heavy wood coffee table. He swept aside an untidy stack of computer paper, then sat in the spot he’d cleared. “It usually helps to begin at the beginning,” he said, not making eye contact with Mitch. “If you’d prefer to have a lawyer present before you say anything, that’s your privilege and your right.”

She blanched at that. “I don’t have a…a…lawyer. Well, Daryl had one for the business.” She raised a badly shaking hand to scrape back a curl now drooping over one eye. Her hold on the urn remained tight.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said, almost to herself. “Or maybe I have. I ran. First, because Daryl was convinced I’d be killed. Later when Patrick…when Patrick…” Gilly’s voice trailed away as her eyes filled with tears. “Someone else who tried to help me was viciously run down.”

Mitch and Ethan shared a second look. “Maybe you could start over and tell us who’s chasing you,” Mitch suggested, tossing aside a pillow to make a place beside her on the sofa. She flinched when he sat down, and that hurt.

“You don’t know?”

“Why would I?”

She stared blankly up at him. “I don’t know who they are, Mitch.” Backed into a corner of the couch, she hugged the urn for dear life, and haltingly told her sorry tale. She began with the wrenching loss of Katie, briefly touched on her misery and her divorce, then described the full events on the night Daryl had arrived at her rented town house. She quickly told them about her flight, ending with her coming to Desert City.

“Where was his CPA firm?” Ethan asked, pulling a battered notebook from his jacket pocket. “Louisiana,
right? And your name wasn’t…uh…isn’t Gillian Stevens.”

Lifting her head in surprise, Gillian shrugged her shoulders. “Legally my name is Gillian Noelle Talbert McGrath. Daryl never liked Gillian. So from the time we started dating, he called me Noelle. After we got married, he insisted I use Noelle McGrath on everything.”

Ethan scribbled faster in his book. “Flo said you showed her a driver’s license and social security card in the name Gillian Stevens. Are they stolen? Or phony?”

“Phony, I imagine. Daryl provided them. They were in an envelope in the glove compartment of a car he must’ve bought out of state. At least, it had Mississippi plates that matched the driver’s license. Stevens is the name of my third stepdad. He d-died of cancer, but he gave me away at my wedding. That’s how Daryl knew him. Mom’s remarried again. We’ve grown apart.”

Mitch choked and sputtered. “Then the story you fed me about your folks dying in a plane crash was a lie?”

“Partially,” Gillian admitted, rallying in her own defense. “My dad died in the crash. Mother survived. She married the doctor who saved her life. He was my first stepdad. She’s not…strong, and she missed my dad so much. Oh, this is pointless. What does any of it matter? Lock me up, or extradite me to New Orleans. I’m tired of having to pile lies on lies.” She fingered the lettering on the urn. “I have Katie back. That’s all I really care about. I hoped I could help put away the men who killed Daryl. Only I don’t know anything. Not even their names. Beating them is impossible.”

Ethan closed his notebook. He dug in his jacket pocket, and came out with handcuffs.

“Now hold on a damned minute.” Mitch reached across the coffee table and jerked the gleaming steel out
of Ethan’s hands. “So far nothing she’s told us adds up to cold-blooded contract murder, interstate chase scenes or stolen suitcases.”

“It’s
my
suitcase. I had to change a flat tire, and I took my suitcases out of my trunk. Then I saw headlights on the road behind me. I was afraid it was them—the men who’d followed me from New Orleans. I didn’t manage to get everything back in place. I’ve been searching the underbrush along your lane—until yesterday, when I saw you had all this.” Her hand swept the case and the urn.

“What were you doing on my property in the first place?”

Gillian gazed at Mitch. She seemed near shattering. “On the freeway, I saw a car in my rearview mirror—a big blue car like they drove. I panicked and took roads at random, hoping…trying to lose them. I think I always knew they wouldn’t give up.”

“Okay,” Mitch said. “I’ll buy that. But later, when you saw I had this…” He stabbed a finger at the case. “Why not explain to me then?” What he didn’t say in front of Ethan, but the accusation he left hanging between them, hinged heavily on the personal intimacy they’d shared earlier that same day.

She licked her lips, hesitating a long time. “The day I started working for Flo, I drove out here hoping the suitcase had simply been knocked into the underbrush along the lane. I…saw…the men who were after me go toward your house. After a while, they drove out again. You weren’t far behind. I hid, but you got out and started searching the area with a spotlight. I ran away. Tell me, what would
you
have deduced? I assumed you worked with them, and your befriending me was a setup.”

Anger appeared in Mitch’s dark eyes. “I stuck my neck out making sure baby Katie didn’t get forgotten in
the precinct’s evidence room. You think I lied when I said I’d find out where she belonged?”

Gillian dropped her gaze guiltily. She knew what he was really wondering: how she could have slept with him if she thought he was mixed up with crooks and killers. His beautiful dark eyes were windows opening straight to his heart.

She squirmed. With Ethan looking on, she wasn’t going to explain how Mitch affected her—how, with a mere touch, he stripped away every vestige of her good sense.

Ethan snatched his handcuffs out of Mitch’s limp hands. “Gillian, you must’ve been mistaken about the identity of the men you saw leaving Mitch’s.”

“Wait! Maybe not.” Mitch remembered back to the night in question. “One evening I thought some kids were messing around my corral. It was the same night you brought Trooper, Ethan. I chased after the car. I thought I saw a person—a silhouette in the trees—so I stopped to have a look.”

“You weren’t looking for me because those men said they’d seen me?” Gillian asked.

“No.” Mitch seemed thoroughly stunned.

Ethan leaned toward him. “If they were the same guys who barged in on you at Gillian’s apartment this morning, and they dig deeper and start adding things up, we could have company here before we know it.”

Gillian jumped to her feet. “Whoever they are, they think my ex-husband gave me a key to a safe-deposit box or a locker or something, where he put evidence that’ll send their outfit to jail.”

When Ethan and Mitch stared at her, Gillian continued. “Daryl implied in an e-mail to a friend that he’d uncovered a big money-laundering operation, and that he’d hidden evidence. Daryl hinted I’d bring this man some kind
of key. If I have one in my possession, I can’t find it. But I can’t…
won’t
let them destroy all I have left of my baby. Please, Mitch, could you put Katie someplace she’ll be safe, no matter what happens to me?”

“Lord, Gilly. You’ve finally given us information we can understand.” Mitch got to his feet and paced. “Ethan, I won’t let you throw her to the wolves. Are you with me here, or do I have to try to hang these bastards on my own?”

Ethan stroked the beginnings of a shadowy beard on his chin, obviously contemplating Mitch’s request.

Gillian set the urn carefully and lovingly between the quilt and the dress in the little suitcase before closing the lid. “I can’t let you involve yourself, Mitch.” In a rush, she explained how Patrick Malone, a kindly cop in Flagstaff, had tried to help. “Because of me,” she concluded, “he was probably killed.”

Ethan’s head shot up. “Stop. You’re saying these guys found you in Flagstaff? And in broad daylight they mowed down a cop in the precinct parking lot?”

Gillian nodded unhappily. “Except the sun was going down, so it was hard to see.”

“I saw a fax come into our office on that incident. The cop didn’t die. I think he’s recovering. The fax didn’t say he was in a safe house, but reading between the lines, I think the chief has him under wraps.”

Tears filled Gillian’s eyes. “Thank heaven. Sergeant Malone was like a father to Daryl. The man was just weeks away from retirement. All this time I’ve thought he…thought those men…” She sank back on the couch, buried her face in her hands and wept huge, gulping sobs.

Mitch and Ethan both seemed at a loss. Finally, Mitch pulled her up and into his arms. As he rocked her silently,
Ethan shifted from foot to foot, gazing uncomfortably on the tender scene.

After a few minutes, he leaned down and picked up the suitcase. “Look,” he said, sounding a bit raw himself. “There’s enough to this situation to warrant investigating. Can’t do that if our primary witness turns up dead. Mitch, since your ranch and Gillian’s apartment are known to these bastards, I think we ought to pull up stakes and reconvene at my house while we talk this through.”

“Good idea,” Mitch agreed. “First on the agenda is to find a more secure place to hide Gilly. With all the traffic Regan and Odella have in and out of their home office, it’ll be hard to keep Gilly safe there. Besides, we don’t want you guys to be their next target.”

Stepping away from Mitch, Gillian blotted her eyes. “I wouldn’t stay. Your family was in jeopardy once, Ethan. I’d never knowingly let something like that happen again on my account.”

For the first time since meeting her, Ethan gave her a genuine smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, today is Regan’s day without appointments. That gives us several hours to knock together some kind of plan.”

“I’ll work on that,” Mitch volunteered. “You’re the one who has the official capacity to dig up goods on the guy in New Orleans who’s calling the shots.”

“What do you mean?” Gillian’s eyebrows rose. “Aren’t the men who’re chasing me clients of Daryl?”

“Doubtful, sweetheart.” Mitch stroked the back of Gilly’s neck. “Sounds to me as if your ex stepped into the middle of a great big dirty operation. Before I transferred to Desert City P.D., I was involved in a sting in Philly aimed at bringing down a mob boss. They’re adept
at keeping layers of underlings between themselves and the action on the street. It’s rare to compile enough documentation to nail any of the head creeps.”

“It’s been done,” Ethan said. “By men like your ex, Gillian. It takes a witness who can track the money trail.”

“You’re talking about the Mafia! I can’t believe Daryl would… Well, you’d have to know him.” She continued to look horrified.

“We can’t say for sure this involves organized crime,” Mitch told her soothingly. “All this talk of gangsters is upsetting Gilly, Ethan. Can we save it for later? Right now, let’s clear out of here.”

“Sure. Why don’t I drive Gillian to my place in her car? I have a couple of other questions. You return the horses to Dave. I left keys to the SUV in the ignition. Bring it to my house, okay?”

When Mitch seemed about to object, Ethan added, “I expect you’ll want to ask Dave to keep Trooper, and cover your ranch. Probably better to be vague about your plans. Tell him you’re moonlighting on a case that’s liable to take you out of town.”

“Goodness, look at the time,” Gillian exclaimed. “I’m due at the café in twenty minutes.”

“No, Gillian!” Mitch and Ethan exclaimed explosively.

Mitch completed their joint thought. “As much as Flo’s going to want to pound on me and Ethan for spiriting you away, the only smart thing is for you to call in and quit.”

“I can’t do that! Flo hired me without references. Her niece left her high and dry. I won’t do that to her and Bert. They deserve better.”

“Sweetheart, you aren’t thinking straight,” Mitch argued. “Those guys—and by the way, Ethan, one of
them’s named Lenny—aren’t new at their job. They’ve tracked you halfway across the United States. I’m betting they’ve figured out where you work.”

“True,” admitted an ashen-faced Gillian. “Bert’s seen two suspicious men around the café. I was afraid it was them. All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “But do you think Regan might know someone who might help Flo out, at least till she can hire someone new?” At his nod, she said, “That’s good. But someday, I hope I can tell Flo the truth.”

“You will if I have my druthers,” Mitch said. “Ethan, I’m leaving Gilly in your hands until we meet at your house.” A strong, unspoken message underlay Mitch’s statement. Gillian was important to him, and he charged his best friend with keeping her safe.

S
OME FORTY MINUTES
later they all reconvened in Ethan’s kitchen. Regan had fed the quadruplets breakfast before they arrived, and was putting the last child down for a morning nap. “There’s coffee, and cinnamon coffee cake Odella brought this morning,” Regan announced. She and Odella had worked together at Desert City’s Child Help Center. They’d left, believing they could help more children privately, without all the government red tape.