Читать книгу Without a Doubt - Kathleen Long - Страница 9

Sophie straightened, willing herself not to wilt beneath the fury emanating from Gary’s gaze. He crooked his finger, and she turned to Maggie, pasting on a phony smile.

“You were wonderful. I’ll be sure to let you know when your segment’s going to air.” She tipped her head toward Gary. “I think your brother needs me for a moment.”

Maggie eyed her warily as she excused herself, and Sophie wondered just how much the woman knew about her and Gary’s shared past.

The question evaporated when she stepped into the kitchen and took in the sight of Gary, hands on hips, color blazing in his cheeks.

He gave Ally’s shoulder a pat and nodded toward the hall. “I think your mommy’s calling you.”

The little girl took off like a shot, leaving her lollipop glued to a page in her coloring book.

“Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

Gary’s words hit her like a slap, and she adopted a tone of indignation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she did. She knew in that instant exactly what he was talking about. The man wasn’t an award-winning journalist without reason. He’d put the pieces together and knew she’d been talking about Ally when she’d questioned him the day before.

“Do you want to start, or should I?”

Sophie flinched. “Why don’t you.” She wasn’t a fool. She could formulate her response as he spoke. No sense giving away any information he hadn’t already figured out.

“You spot my niece at the fund-raiser, learn she’s adopted, and decide—for whatever reason—she’s your niece.” He dropped his voice low and stood so close Sophie could feel the heat of his anger.

“Then you butter me up for a how-to on identifying a kidnapped child.” His voice cracked with emotion and he looked away momentarily.

“What do you think?” he continued. “Do you think my sister and brother-in-law stole your sister’s child?”

He gripped Sophie’s shoulders and gave her a quick shake. A whisper of anxiousness filtered through her. She knew he’d never hurt her. He wasn’t that type of man, but she’d never seen the depth of fury in his eyes she saw there now.

“Your niece is dead, Sophie,” he continued. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone. Forever. Stay away from my family.”

No, Sophie screamed silently. Robin wasn’t dead. She was in the next room singing to the woman who had adopted her.

Someone cleared his throat, and Sophie and Gary both turned quickly to spot Trevor James standing in the doorway. Instead of showing any concern over his intrusion, he instead wore an expression of annoyance, as if they were in his way.

He tipped his chin toward the refrigerator. “Need to grab one of my beverages.”

They both watched wordlessly as he crossed the room, opened the appliance door and took out a bottle of vitamin-enhanced water.

“Carry on,” he said glibly as he headed back out into the hall.

Gary’s eyes narrowed, focused on James’s back. “Pompous—”

“Look at her birthmark,” Sophie interrupted, forcing her voice through her throat, now tight with emotion. She kept her speaking volume low, not wanting to be overheard by the others down the hall. “Robin had an identical mark. Identical.”

The heat of her determination fired in her cheeks and she knew she’d lost all semblance of professional cool. She could care less.

“People can have similar birthmarks.” Gary dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her.

Sophie’s frustration soared, overwhelming her. She jammed her finger into his chest, flinching when he caught her hand in his fist.

“Not similar. Identical.” She pressed the point, refusing to be intimidated by anything Gary said or did.

“It’s impossible.” He leaned close, not letting go of her hand. “That little girl out there is the light of my sister’s life. She’s my niece. My niece.” He shook his head. “Not yours.”

Sophie wriggled her fingers free. “What if you’re wrong? Are you willing to live with not knowing? I know you, Gary. You live for the story. Live for the truth.

“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you can walk away from the possibility I may be right?”

Gary stood his ground, not giving her the satisfaction of so much as a blink.

Yet another male throat cleared and Sophie snapped her attention to the doorway. Cookie leaned against the doorjamb, the look on his face making it abundantly clear he’d heard every word.

Sophie grimaced. She could only hope their voices hadn’t carried to where Maggie and her daughter sat.

“I hate to interrupt,” Cook said. “We’ve got to go. Breaking story.”

Sophie welcomed the excuse to walk away from the argument, even though her anger had reached its boiling point. Blood roared in her ears, and she was certain her normally pale complexion was flush with color.

Gary reached for her arm as she passed, but she dodged his touch. “We’re not through discussing this,” he called after her, anger heavy in his voice.

Sophie paused at the doorway, turning back to pin him with her gaze. “That’s where you’re wrong. This discussion is most definitely over.”

But as she headed out of the house toward the van, she knew Gary would never let the topic drop that easily. He’d make contact again, and before he did she had better get her thoughts—and emotions—in check.

HOURS LATER, JOHN COOK PULLED the news van back into the WNJZ parking lot. Sophie didn’t know about the older man, but she was exhausted and hungry. Her head had been pounding ever since she’d left the Alexanders’ home, and spending seven hours covering a hostage situation hadn’t done much to ease her tension.

“Want to tell me about it?” Cookie asked.

“What? My headache?” Sophie rolled her neck, then massaged her pounding temples. She could feel Cook’s visual scrutiny, but she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d take a hint.

“Whatever you and Gary Barksdale were arguing about earlier.”

Apparently Cookie wasn’t going to let this one go without forcing the issue.

“Sounded pretty intense. Did I hear you mention Becca and Robin?”

Sophie spun on him, gracing him with one of her trademark glares. “How about if I give you a transcript? Would that ease your curiosity?”

Her venom didn’t make the man flinch, not in the least. He knew her too well, knew all of her acts of bravado were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

“Feel better?” He crooked a gray brow.

“No.” She slouched in her seat, regretting her inappropriate outburst. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Nope.” He shook his head and patted her arm. “I didn’t, but I’m glad I could be here to take the heat. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to use the wide-angle lens the next time I film you?”

It was his favorite threat, and it never failed to make Sophie smile.

“Anything but that.” She pulled herself upright in the seat and took a deep breath. “You have to give me your word you won’t tell a soul.”

Cookie nodded. “You know you don’t have to remind me of that.”

“You’re right.” Sophie swallowed before she continued. “Did you notice the Alexanders’ daughter?”

Cookie let loose with a chuckle that rumbled the windows of the van. “The whirlwind with the lollipop, the coloring books and the off-note singing?”

Sophie nodded. “I think she could be Robin.”

Cook blinked, then his eyes narrowed. Silence stretched between them. “How?”

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. He knew her well enough to know she’d have thought through every possible angle before making such a statement.

“You remember there were no remains, right?”

He nodded without saying a word, lines of concern etching the corners of his eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about her birthmark?”

Cookie shook his head.

“A butterfly,” Sophie continued. “A perfect butterfly.” She pointed to the nape of her neck. “Right here.”

“Just like the Alexander girl,” Cook said softly.

Sophie met his curious gaze and nodded. “And she’s five years old.”

“The same age Robin would be.”

“And she’s adopted.”

He gripped the steering wheel as if the news had thrown him off balance. “So you’ll pull the adoption records and take it from there?”

“Yeah.” Sophie blew out a tired sigh. “I will. I’m compelled to check this out. I have no choice.”

“What if it turns out she’s not your niece?”

“Then at least I’ll know for sure.” She breathed in deeply, realizing she wasn’t prepared for that possibility. She’d already decided she was right in her assumption.

“And if she is your niece?” His tone dropped low and intent. “Are you going to take her away from the only home she’s ever known?”

Sophie opened her mouth to answer, but then fell silent. She hadn’t really thought about the situation from that perspective. Bringing Robin home was going to be a long and difficult road. She could handle it, though. She had to. For Becca.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

“What if what’s right is leaving that girl where she is?”

Disbelief knotted in Sophie’s throat. John Cook was the last person she expected opposition from. “Whose side are you on, Cook?”

He patted her knee. “Yours, honey. You know that. I just want to make sure you’ve really thought this thing through before you do anything rash.” The gray brows met in a peak. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always.”

He gave her a quick wink. “Okay. Then let’s get you out of this van and on your way home. It’s been a long day.”

“I have to run in for a few things.” Sophie shrugged into her jacket as she stepped down from the van. “Want me to grab anything for you?”

“I’m good.” He shook his head and grinned. “I’m just going to straighten up here then head home. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“You got it.” Sophie paused for a split second, then stepped close and planted a kiss on his cheek.

His blush was evident even in the shadows of the dark parking lot. “What was that for?”

Sophie shrugged. “Just because.”

“You’re not getting soft on me are you?” His tone had taken on a teasing note. “I know how particular you are about keeping your cool.”

“Never.” She released a quick laugh as she hurried across the parking lot.

Getting soft? Not hardly.

She’d worked too hard for too long to earn her reputation as one cool reporter under fire.

But cool or not, right now she was emotionally wrung out, wanting only to gather a few personal items and put this day behind her.

HER PRODUCER HAD SIDETRACKED Sophie when she’d dashed inside to grab her date book. Now, fifteen minutes later, she was beyond exhaustion, ready for a hot bath, a glass of wine and sleep. Lots of sleep.

All worries about Gary Barksdale and Ally Alexander could wait until morning. She wasn’t capable of additional coherent thought tonight.

Forty-eight hours ago, her life had been status quo. Now her reality had been tilted on its axis.

If Ally was her niece, not only had Robin survived, but she’d been put up for adoption. By whom? And why? And if whoever had taken her had planned their actions, had the fire really been an accident?

She shook her head. She was overtired and letting her imagination get carried away.

She weaved between the parked cars in the lot and stopped dead in her tracks at the site of the van. The side door sat wide open, just as it had been when she’d said good-night to Cookie.

A shiver whispered down her spine, and she quickened her pace. What was taking him so long? Was something wrong with the truck? With Cookie?

She had her answer the second she got close enough to see into the van. Cookie lay sprawled across the equipment on the floor of the truck, one arm bent beneath him at an unnatural angle, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.

“Cook.” The word slid across her lips, barely audible.

Her heart lurched in her chest.

She scrambled into the van, checking for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when she found one—weak, but beating.

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you help.”

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, satisfying herself he was able to breathe on his own. She shrugged out of her jacket, bundled it on top of him, then dumped the contents of her purse to locate her cell phone, not wanting to leave his side long enough to reach the van’s two-way radio.

She hit the speed-dial button for 911. “WNJZ parking lot. We need help ASAP.”

But before the voice on the other end of the line could respond, something knocked the phone from Sophie’s hand. She twisted, raising her hands defensively, but she was too late.

Her assailant backhanded her across the side of her face, then hoisted her, kicking and screaming from the van.

The masked man pinned her to the asphalt, his knee in her chest. Her face throbbed from where he’d struck her, and her legs protested at the way they’d been twisted beneath her.

When he slapped a piece of heavy tape over her mouth, bile rose in her throat. Her only hope now was that help for Cookie would arrive in time to save her.

She fought to scramble to her feet, but felt the back of her attacker’s hand against her cheek again. This time when she fell, her attacker dragged her around the far side of the van, headed toward the deserted lot of the soon-to-be-demolished hotel next door.

She had to break free. Had to. All of her self-defense training screamed through her brain.

Don’t let him take you to a second location. Fight him. Fight him.

She kicked, working to free her feet from her pumps. Once the shoes fell away, she fought to hook a foot on a rock, in a hole, anything that might slow their forward progress.

Panic squeezed at her insides and she struggled to remain coherent.

Focus, Sophie. Focus.

If she lost control of her senses now, she might very well end up raped…or far worse.

Sirens sounded and Sophie dared hope she might survive—unless her attacker had dragged her so far out of sight the authorities would never find her.

Icy cold terror tangled with her panic.

What if no one looked for her?

She’d dumped her purse before she made the call. Anyone responding to the scene would know she’d been there. And her coworkers knew she’d never leave Cook alone and injured.

Cookie.

Her attacker tightened his grip, dragging her forcibly farther and farther away from the lot. She continued to wiggle and kick, doing her best to break free, to slow him down, to frustrate him.

Sophie’s heart twisted in her chest at the thought of Cookie injured and bleeding.

Determination welled inside her. She had to find a way out of this, had to find a way to escape.

Her assailant dropped her to the hard ground, and the back of her head connected with packed dirt.

The sirens grew nearer and he straightened, looking in both directions. When he bent down, putting his face near hers, she swung at him wildly, but he pinned her arms down effortlessly. She brought her knee up, hoping she’d hit his groin, but missing her mark.

Panic surged through her every muscle and nerve ending. How would she survive this? How would she escape? He was too big, too strong.

Just as she’d begun to accept her fate, he spoke.

“Consider this a warning.”

The cold edge of the man’s voice cut through the night air, freezing Sophie in mid-struggle.

“Next time, you won’t live to talk about it.”

He released his grip on her arms and Sophie struggled to sit up, to wriggle away.

This time, when his hand connected with her face and her head slammed against the hard dirt, Sophie’s vision faded.

Then turned to black.