Lullabies and Lies (4 page)

“What’s the point? My story is not going to change. I can’t tell you where Emily is. Don’t you think I wish I could?” Sunny avoided his probing gaze. She didn’t like his changeable eyes, or his gruff voice.

“You might be surprised how much you’ve already told me.”

His voice was soothing, encouraging, but the words sent terror streaking through her. His features were
etched with determination. His body telegraphed protection and strength.

God she wanted to trust him. If anyone could help her find her daughter, Sunny believed this man could. If only she dared confide in him. She ducked her head, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles whitened as she squeezed her fingers together, forcing herself to stay strong, to stay silent as his chair scraped on the hardwood floor.

Griff stood and stared at the top of Sunny Loveless’s honey-colored head, certainty settling cold and hard beneath his breastbone.

She was gutsier than most women would be in her situation. He had to give her that. But as each moment passed, he became more certain that she’d already heard from the kidnapper.

He stood and walked over to the window. As he brushed by her, a faint fresh scent like the air after a spring shower drifted past his nostrils. Despite his suspicion, despite his resolve, his body responded. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to picture her wet and bleeding, frantically searching for her daughter in the rain.

He turned in time to see her shoulders tense, and her fingertips tighten around the cup.

He swallowed. She
was
lovely. His gaze traveled over the graceful curve of her back, the fine shape of her head, the honey blond hair twisted up into a messy knot, exposing her delicately curved neck. In another circumstance, he could be attracted to her. Very attracted.

But that would only happen in a different world, a different life. In this one she was hiding information from him, and before he was finished with her she would
hate him, because he
would
find her baby. And if that meant he had to bully her or browbeat her, then so be it.

He measured out his life in the tears and smiles of families reunited. A part of his heart died each time he failed to save a child. And there hadn’t been that many parts to spare when he’d started with the FBI.

Before he’d left D.C. he’d made himself a promise. He was good at his job, but he knew the taste of failure too well. He was thirty. He’d searched for his sister for fifteen years. That was long enough. It was time to give up on old hopes and move on.

This would be his last missing child case. He would not fail this last time. Not here. He was back home. This time, he would succeed, no matter the cost to him or to the lovely young woman who was deliberately lying to him.

Frustration blossomed into anger in his chest. He stepped in front of her.

“Do you think I haven’t seen this before? I know you’ve been contacted.” He glared down at her. “He told you he’d kill her, didn’t he?” He sucked in a sharp breath and slapped his open palm on the table.
“Didn’t he!”

She went stone white, and the cup in her hand cracked, spattering coffee all over the table. She jumped up, brown liquid dripping from her fingers.

Griff grabbed a box of tissues and ripped half of them out. He gripped her arm.

“Here.” He handed her a wad of tissues, then used the rest to mop up the table.

After he’d tossed the soaked mess toward a trash can, he turned to her.

She stood there valiantly trying to mask the haunted terror that radiated from her pale face as her hands mangled the coffee-stained tissues.

Griff’s heart squeezed painfully.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said softly.

Chapter Two

35 hours missing

“I’m a private investigator. Do you think if the kidnapper had contacted me, I would keep it from the police?” Sunny’s voice sounded small.

Griff’s anger ratcheted up. “I think you’d be more believable if you gave me a straight answer, instead of throwing questions back at me.”

She took a long, shaky breath. “If I knew anything that would help you find Emily I’d tell you.”

“You’re prevaricating. Worse, you’re making the assumption that you know better than I do what will help your daughter. I’d like to…” He paused. He’d like to what? Grab her and shake the truth out of her? Or wrap his arms around her and promise her everything would be all right?

Whoa.
Where had that thought come from?

He knew too well what an empty promise that would be. She needed to hear the unvarnished truth. Maybe that would scare her into trusting him.

Her dark green gaze met his, wrenching his heart into
a painful knot. He peeled the coffee-stained tissues from her hands and tossed them aside.

“Talk to me, Ms. Loveless.” He couldn’t bring himself to call her Sunny. The name was too intimate. It brought him too close. He needed distance, detachment. It was the only way he could do this job.

“Tell me the truth. How did they get to you without alerting the police? And more importantly, what do they want?”

The scratches on her cheek flared red against her white skin. Her lower lip trembled slightly. “I never said I’d been contacted.”

“Sure you did. With that broken cup and spilled coffee. Do they want money? Did they threaten your daughter’s life? That’s usual in these cases. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

She rubbed her palms together, then glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time for this. I have to get home. My next-door neighbor Lillian is there alone, trying to piece our case files back together while she waits at a tapped phone in case the kidnapper calls. She’s seventy-six, and shouldn’t have to shoulder that kind of responsibility by herself.”

Despite her effort to be tough, Griff knew she was about to break. “Neither should you. Every moment you delay is a moment off your daughter’s life.”

He averted his gaze from her shocked, hurt face. Striding over to the window, he thrust his hands into his pockets to hide his clenched fists.

“You think you can deal with these people on your own?” he asked over his shoulder.

Dread certainty filled him. “You’re wrong. I’ve
worked with too many distraught parents who thought the same thing. If you don’t tell me the truth, your daughter
will
die.” His harsh voice echoed through the room.

She made a small, pained sound. “That was cruel, and unnecessary.”

“No, it wasn’t unnecessary. What’s unnecessary is the time you’re wasting in this misguided effort to hide the facts from me.” He faced her again. “I will not abandon your daughter, Ms. Loveless. I’m going to do my best to find her, with or without your help. I just hope it’s not too late.”

She raised her head and the fear that racked her shone on her face. “You have to believe me,” she said in a choked voice. “If there was anything I could tell you, I would.”

In spite of his irritation, Griff almost smiled at her clever wording. “You’re smart, Ms. Loveless. But I’m smart, too. We need to be working together. All kidnappers threaten dire consequences if the family contacts the authorities. The truth is, hearing from the kidnappers is a good sign.”

Her brows drew down.

“Once we have contact, we have evidence. It’s the ones who grab the baby to keep or sell, the ones who never make contact, that give us nightmares.” His gut clenched as his words hung there in the silence.

Nightmares.
He knew plenty about nightmares, too. He lived with them on a daily basis. He intended to ensure that this lovely, brave woman wouldn’t have to. With or without her help.

Sunny opened her mouth.

He held up his hand. “Spare me another clever turn
of phrase that makes you feel better about lying, Ms. Loveless.” He flexed his fingers. “I’m going to wash the coffee off my hands. I’ll bring you a towel. While I’m gone, you think about
this.
Right now
you
are the biggest obstacle to finding your daughter. If you received a note, you may be destroying DNA evidence. So far, the odds are pretty good that your daughter is safe, because without her, the kidnappers have nothing to bargain with. But no one can guarantee that. The longer Emily is missing, the lower our chances of finding her.”

As he stepped past her, her fresh scent teased his nostrils again. She was like a breath of spring to his winter-coated heart.

He was going to have to watch himself around her.

As soon as Agent Stone closed the door, Sunny released the breath she was holding and grabbed her purse. She had to get out of here before he talked her into telling him everything.

She’d been afraid of this when Lieutenant Carver had told her an FBI special agent from Washington, D.C., was being called in.

Griffin Stone knew far too much. His instincts were too good.

It hadn’t taken him two minutes to deduce that she was lying. She’d felt his suspicion like a wave of heat.

Worse, his confidence combined with his intimidating presence made her doubt her ability to deal with the kidnapper on her own. She had to get away from him so she could think.

As soon as his footsteps faded, she slipped out of the room and down the fire stairs.

Rubbing her temple where a headache slowly bloomed, she stepped out of the building into the hot summer sun. For an instant, she tilted her head up, inviting the sun’s bright heat to penetrate down to her bones.

Not even the sun could thaw her icy heart, though. The fear that had encased it from the instant she’d laid eyes on Emily’s empty carrier still chilled her. She would never feel warm or safe again, until her daughter was back in her arms.

Squinting against the sun and her headache, she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for her car.

As she approached, a patch of white on her windshield caught her eye. It was a scrap of paper, rucked up by the gentle breeze.

She walked faster, her heart thrumming out of rhythm with her quickening strides. Within seconds, its violent pounding sheared her breath.

Was the slip of paper a note from the kidnapper? Information about Emily?

When a couple walking past glanced curiously at her, she realized she was practically running. With a huge effort, she forced herself to slow down. But hope and impatience flared in her chest as she reached out to grab the note.

And froze.

What if the kidnapper was watching her? Or Griffin Stone was peering down at her from the second story? Her mouth went dry. She suppressed the urge to raise her gaze to the window where she’d stood only moments before.

“Just pick it up,” she muttered, swallowing anxiously. Was it a ransom note? A joke? Or further instructions from the kidnapper?

Sunny risked a quick glance around her, and what she saw sent a bolt of disappointment thudding into her chest. There were similar slips of paper on most of the cars nearby.

“Oh, no.” A moan escaped her lips. It was just some stupid advertising flyer.

She pressed the remote key lock and reached for the door handle as tears clogged her throat. Her baby was out there alone and Sunny was helpless, at the mercy of a faceless threat.

Her eyes went back to her windshield. The paper
was
the same size as the first note, and it appeared to be lined notepaper with a torn edge.

That was no advertising flyer.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t force air past her constricted throat. It was from the kidnapper. She glanced casually around, then looked back toward the building she’d just exited.

She knew how important this evidence was. She knew what she should do. She should leave it there and march back inside and tell Agent Stone about it, so he could examine it and enter it into evidence.

But she couldn’t. The block-printed words from the first note appeared in her mind’s eye.

Tell the police anything about me and your kid will die.

No.
She had only one choice. She plucked the piece of paper from under the windshield wiper with fingers that shook so hard she almost dropped it.

Then she climbed into her car.

Heat enveloped her like a sauna. She swallowed, her throat parched with fearful anticipation. Tension radiated up her neck, intensifying her headache. She turned
on the engine, then fished a tissue from her purse and used it to carefully spread the note open on the seat beside her. Agent Stone’s warning about destroying DNA echoed in her ears. He was right. She had to preserve the evidence.

More block printing on lined paper. Her scalp tightened.
Just like the first one.

She struggled to focus her suddenly tear-filled eyes. The words wavered in front of her.

Emily is still alive, for now.

“Oh, thank God!” Sunny’s breath whooshed out and a scorching relief swept through her. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Emily,” she whispered against her fingers as a sense memory caught her off guard. The powdery smell of her daughter’s sweet, warm neck, the angel-soft down of her hair. Sunny sucked in a sobbing breath. Then she closed her eyes and released the thick sobs that pressed so hard against her chest. She only allowed herself a few seconds of self-indulgence.

Then she looked back at the note, her vision blurred by tears.

Emily is still alive, for now. But you’re spending too much time with the police. Someone you know will be hurt. You’d better point the police in a different direction, or next time, it will be someone you love. Remember, I’m watching you.

“Someone you love…” she whispered, the icy fear taking hold of her again. She shivered, despite the heat.

Oh God!
Lil! Had they done something to her dear friend and neighbor? Sunny dug out her cell phone.

The blare of a car horn startled her. She jerked her head up. In her rearview mirror, she saw a car behind her, obviously waiting for her to back out of the parking place. Dazed, she realized she’d been sitting there with her car idling.

Waving an apology at the impatient driver, she backed out and speed-dialed her home number.