Lullabies and Lies (18 page)

Janie rubbed her temple with the heel of the hand holding the gun.

“I know she hurt you.”

“I said shut up! Do you want to know what hurt is? Hurt is a young mother turning around and finding her baby gone. Hurt is a pathetic father standing in front of cameras begging me to give his baby back.
Me!
I’m the only one who can do that.” She smiled. “They’re like puppets. I pull one string, they’re devastated. I pull another, they’re happy and hopeful.” She pointed the gun at Bess again. “Now tell me where the Loveless kid is or I’ll shoot you and
you’ll
know what hurt is.”

“You will never find this baby. You won’t get the satisfaction of watching Sunny Loveless beg and cry on national television.”

“You want to know what will satisfy me?” Janie screeched, clicking the safety off the gun. “Watching
your
daughter when she finds out what you did.”

Bess’s eyes widened slightly. “My daughter will be just fine. She knows everything.”

Janie’s brain was awhirl. It was hard to think with the incessant pounding in her head.

Where was the kid? Janie didn’t think the Loveless woman had it. She wouldn’t have left Bess here to face Janie alone. So what had Bess done with it?

Mia. Bess’s daughter
.

Janie took a step forward. “Oh, really? Mia knows she was stolen fifteen years ago? Your daughter knows she has a real family out there somewhere?”

Bess blinked and her faded eyes filled with tears.

“You’re lying. Mia doesn’t know anything. You stupid old woman. You gave the baby to Mia.” Janie laughed. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m sure Mia will be happy to hand over the kid once she learns the truth about her
mother
.”

Bess scowled. “Leave Mia out of this. She has nothing to do with it.”

Janie aimed the gun at Bess. “Oh she’s got a
lot
to do with it if she has the kid.”

Bess shook her head.

“Where is she?” She gestured toward Bess’s phone. “Wasn’t she looking for an apartment near the university? Call her right now and tell her we’re coming to get that kid.”

“No.”

“Call her or I swear I will shoot you.”

“Janie, you’ve got to stop. The police are coming. It’s over.”

Bess was lying. Janie could see it in her eyes. The old woman was worse than Eddie. Why did people find it so hard to lie?

She glanced around quickly, gun still trained on Bess, and spotted a cell phone lying on the coffee table.

“If you won’t call Mia, I will.” She edged toward the
phone. “I’m sure you’ve got her number in here.” Picking up the cell phone, she glanced down at the display.

During that fraction of a second when her eyes were off Bess, the old woman rushed her, gnarled hands stretched out to push her off balance against the coffee table.

Janie whirled and the gun fired. The recoil knocked it out of her hand.

Bess looked startled, then her eyes rolled back and she crumpled over the coffee table, blood everywhere.

Janie stared down at her for several seconds, but she didn’t move.

“Get up, you old hag! I know you’re okay.” She nudged her.

Nothing.

“Bess!” Damn, she was so still.

Janie felt her wattled neck. Her skin was still warm. That was good. But Janie’s trembling fingers couldn’t find a pulse.

Oh dear God, she’d killed her!

And she’d fallen on the cell phone. Janie cursed.

Swallowing hard against the bile that rose in her throat, Janie forced herself to slide her hand under Bess’s body and feel for the phone.

Warm, slick blood coated her fingers and wrist. There was so much of it!

Shuddering, swallowing acrid saliva, Janie finally touched the cool metal case. She jerked her hand back.

“Ugh!” The phone was black with blood. Backing away from her old nanny’s body, Janie rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. She scrubbed blood off her hand, then wiped the phone in it. But blood still
stained her fingernails. She turned her palm up. Her life line and heart line were painted with the deep red stuff.

Forcing herself to stop staring at the blood, Janie wrapped the towel around the cell phone, then looked up at Bess’s clock. She had to get out of here before anyone showed up. She started toward the back door.

The gun!

“Think, Janie. Don’t get rattled.” She needed a cigarette—bad. But that would have to wait. Hurrying back into the living room, she averted her eyes from Bess’s body.

Where the hell was the gun?

Closing her eyes, she thought about where she and Bess had been standing. The gun had to be somewhere near the coffee table.

Sharp pains arrowed through Janie’s head. Her hands were shaking as she bent over to search under the table and the couch.

There it was, on the other side of the couch. She walked around and picked it up, then ran for the back door. She used the towel to turn the knob.

As she climbed into her car, she heard traffic on the street in front of Bess’s house. Was it the police?

She tossed the bloody towel and the gun into the passenger seat and started the car. She pulled out onto the street behind Bess’s house, her limbs twitching with panic.

As she sped away and turned right onto McCarthy Avenue, parallel to Bergen, she licked her lips and shook her head to rid herself of the fear that strangled her. In all her years of brokering babies, she’d never made a mistake. But she’d misjudged Bess this time.

She couldn’t believe Bess would do anything that
would jeopardize her relationship with Mia. Janie had always counted on that. It was why she’d given her first stolen child to Bess.

She’d have bet money—she
had
bet her and Ed’s future—that Bess would die before taking a chance on losing Mia.

Bess had died.

Janie practically gagged at the memory of Bess crumpled over the coffee table, blood spilling out around her.

Blood. Pumping.
Blood didn’t pump out of a dead body.

Janie slammed on the brakes, about a hundred yards from Oak Grove Boulevard, the main street through the town. A car rushed past.

Janie froze, but the vehicle continued on.

Glancing in her side and rearview mirrors, Janie slowed and pulled into an empty driveway. Hopefully the owners of the house were at church. Leaving her car running, she glanced around again. The little street seemed deserted.

She quickly crossed the backyard and stepped into the common area. Trees and leafy undergrowth gave her cover as she maneuvered so she could see the front door of Bess’s house. She measured the distance across the yard of Bess’s big old farmhouse set back from the road. She was too far away to chance running across Bess’s manicured lawn.

Maybe she should drive back around. Did she have time?

As if in answer to her question, a car turned in to Bess’s driveway.

Pain hammered in Janie’s head.

What if Bess wasn’t dead?

IT HAD TAKEN forty minutes to get to the small town of Oak Grove, east of Philadelphia.

Sunny acknowledged the wisdom of Griff’s decision not to call the woman.

“I understand that she might panic and run,” she told him. “I also know you’re afraid this might be a trap.”

“Her name is Bess Raymond,” he said as he turned onto Bergen Avenue. “She’s run a small day care center out of her home for over thirty years. She has one daughter, Mia, seventeen years old.”

“Day care center? That explains why she has Emily. She must be keeping her for the kidnapper.” Her voice was tight with desperation and hope.

He didn’t answer.

“You don’t think she has Emily, do you?”

“I don’t know. I think she knows where Emily is. My guess is that she’s involved in a baby-selling ring. Think about it. A single woman, living in a relatively isolated area, running a day care center. She’s the perfect person to hold the children while arrangements are made for an illegal adoption.”

“All the children who are never found.” Sunny’s voice tore at his sore heart.

“Right.” His voice grated. Not all the children, but many. He thought of his own little sister, with her big violet eyes and thick, dark lashes. He’d lived his entire life hoping she was alive and happy, being cared for by loving parents. The alternative was too dreadful to bear thinking of.

“Griff? You look awful. Are you all right?”

He blinked and kept his eyes on the road. “Sure. There’s Bess Raymond’s house.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed one of the numbers he’d programmed into it less than an hour ago. A woman answered.

“This is Griffin Stone, FBI. Captain Sparks please.”

“What are you doing?” Sunny asked.

“Alerting the locals. I told my boss I wouldn’t go in without backup.”

“But she might run.”

He held up a hand when he heard a voice say, “Sparks, here.”

“Yes, Captain Sparks. Sorry to bother you at home. That’s right. My boss, Mitch Decker, called you? Good. We’re approaching the Raymond woman’s house now. I’d appreciate some backup in case of a problem.”

“They’re on standby. Shouldn’t be but a couple of minutes. What about an ambulance?”

Griff looked at Sunny. If anything happened to her baby— “Yeah. If you can spare it. And Captain, no sirens until we know what’s going on, okay?”

Sparks agreed.

He disconnected and stuck the phone back into his pocket.

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Just a few minutes.” He slowed down in front of the house. It was the only one on the short street. The way the area was laid out, it appeared that Bess Raymond’s house had been built before the streets around her sprang up.

Sunny put a hand over her mouth and stared out the car window.

It looked quiet enough. A medium-size house with a red roof and a large, welcoming front porch. White rocking chairs were lined up close to the porch rail. The yard looked like a toddler’s paradise. A slide, two swing sets and a wading pool were grouped together on one side of the long sidewalk. Colorful flower beds lined the front of the house.

Before Griff even stopped the car, Sunny grabbed the door handle.

“Wait! Damn it!” He slammed his foot on the brake and simultaneously reached across her, stopping the door from opening. “What the hell are you doing?”

She strained against his hand. “My daughter could be in that house.”

“We don’t know who else is in there.”

Her eyes met his. Finally she stopped fighting. Her lips formed a thin line, the tendons in her neck stood out.

“We agreed to wait for backup. You have to promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

She lifted her chin.

“Sunny, you have to listen to me. What good is it going to do Emily if you get yourself hurt?”

Finally her gaze faltered.

“If you’ll stay here, I’ll go in.”

She stiffened. “By yourself?”

“Backup will be here in a couple of minutes. But you have to promise to stay in this car and out of our way.”

He suffered her scrutiny as she decided whether she could trust him with the life of her child. Somehow, he passed her test. He wondered if he’d still pass if she knew about his sister.

She nodded. “Please be careful. She’s just a baby.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “I promise.”

As Griff got out of the car, he noticed something that froze his heart. The front door was ajar.

He shot a quick glance back at the car, just enough to be sure Sunny had stayed put. She sat in the passenger seat, watching his every move.

He drew his gun. His gaze quickly assessed the condition of the porch and the door. Nothing had been disturbed. The door didn’t seem to have been forced. With his back against the wall, he glanced around the yard and the driveway, then slowly, with his gun hand, eased the door inward a fraction of an inch.

He heard a sound—a moan, coming from inside the house.
Someone was hurt!

Clutching his gun in both hands, he shouted, “FBI. Coming in!” He shoved the door open with his shoulder and trained his gun on all corners of the dimly lit room.

Another pained moan sounded, along with labored breathing. He saw a body crumpled over the large glass coffee table.

He eased over and nudged the woman’s shoulder with his gun barrel.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Anyone else here?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.

He checked the perimeter of the room, then quickly checked the rest of the house, acutely aware of every sound, every flicker of light.

Retracing his steps, he bent over the woman, who lay in a widening pool of blood. As he crouched beside her, he saw what lay next to her.

Griff’s heart shattered, and a sob shuddered through his chest. Automatically he reached into his pocket for the handkerchief he always carried, and picked up the rattle. It was spattered with blood, but the engraving wasn’t obscured.

Emily.

Ah God, not this time. Don’t let me be too late this time.

He felt the woman’s neck. A faint, thready pulse beat there. She was alive, at least for now. But she’d lost so much blood.

“Ms. Raymond? Bess Raymond? Can you hear me?”

A breathy moan answered him.

“Who did this? Where’s the baby?”

She said something he couldn’t understand, then slumped, unconscious. At the same time, Griff heard the sound of tires on gravel.

Rising, he whirled toward the door and stuck his head out, spotting the police cars and ambulance.

“Get the EMTs in here,” he yelled. “She’s alive!”

The ambulance drove right up to the door, destroying flower beds and leaving huge furrows in the well-kept yard.

He hurried down the steps to the car. Sunny opened the passenger door.

“Emily?” The hope in her voice struck his heart like a bullet.

“She’s not in there.”

“She’s—not?”

She stood and grabbed his forearm with both hands. “What did Bess say? Where’s my baby?”

He gently set her away from him and her gaze lit on what he held.

“Oh, God, it’s hers!” She reached for the cloth-wrapped rattle.