Читать книгу Mystery Child - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11
ОглавлениеNo record of Tabitha McConnell ever giving birth.
No adoption records.
No evidence that there is any connection between Jubilee and your sister.
The words spilled out of the mouth of the stunning brunette who sat across the table from Quinn. Flawless skin, beautiful tailored suit, Special Agent Veronica Spellings looked like a model and acted exactly like what she was—a federal investigator. She’d arrived an hour ago, and she’d been all business ever since. Questions. Jotted notes. Sympathetic looks mixed with a few raised eyebrows.
“Take a look at this,” she said, sliding a paper across August’s kitchen table, her dark eyes devoid of emotion. She had short nails and long fingers, the diamond ring that glinted on her left hand almost gaudy in comparison to the woman’s conservative suit.
Quinn lifted the paper, eyeing the colored photo of a pretty blonde, a tall red-haired man and an infant. The woman held the baby as though she wasn’t quite comfortable with it, her smile a little forced. She had dark circles under her eyes and the look of someone who was deeply unhappy. Beside her, the man stood grinning at the camera. His hand cupped the woman’s shoulder, and the joy in his face was undeniable.
“That’s Megan and Daniel Boone Anderson, and their daughter, Kendal. The picture was taken a month before Megan and Kendal disappeared. Megan died a few months later. Kendal has been missing ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“That was five years ago. The baby would be Jubilee’s age now. Mr. Anderson has moved on, of course. He has a family. Children, but he’s still desperate to find his daughter. He’s never stopped looking for her.” Agent Spellings eyed Quinn expectantly.
Quinn knew she was supposed to respond. Maybe with a gasp or a denial—No way! The baby in the picture isn’t Jubilee.
She couldn’t deny what she didn’t know, though.
She wanted to believe Tabitha, but the evidence Agent Spellings had laid out was undeniable. Up until Tabitha had moved to Nevada a year and a half ago, she hadn’t had a child. Friends at her old apartment had never seen her with a little girl. Her coworkers hadn’t ever heard her speak about being a mother.
The FBI had moved fast, gathering information a lot more quickly than Quinn ever could have, and the information indicated that Tabitha had lied.
Quinn couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t brush it under the carpet and pretend it didn’t exist. But, she wouldn’t regret the decision she’d made, either. Jubilee deserved to be with someone who loved her, who had been desperately seeking her for years. If she was Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, she deserved to be part of his family.
“I’m sorry for what happened, but I don’t know anything about it.” She fingered the photo before sliding it back across August’s kitchen table. She and Agent Spellings had been left alone in the room, a half dozen police officers and two other agents vacating the kitchen and escorting August and Malone out with them. A CPS caseworker had arrived and taken Jubilee into another part of the house.
Hopefully, she hadn’t taken the little girl away.
Jubilee might not be her niece, but Quinn felt responsible for her.
“You’re sorry, but do you understand the ramifications of what you and your sister have done?”
“Of course, I understand, but I had no reason to doubt my sister’s story.”
“Except that you hadn’t seen her in years,” Agent Spellings pointed out.
“She’s family.” That was it. All Quinn was going to say. If she needed a lawyer, she’d get one. Right now, she just wanted to be done and go home.
“I understand. I have sisters, too. I know how deep the bond can run.” Agent Spellings sighed. “You’re not in any trouble with us, Quinn, but we would like to speak with your sister.”
“If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.”
“I hope so.” The agent switched gears, pulled something out of a briefcase. “We found this in your car.” Agent Spellings set a manila envelope on the table, Tabitha’s handwriting scrawled across the front. It had been sealed when Quinn fled the SUV. Now the flap was open.
“Tabitha gave it to me.”
“And you didn’t open it?”
“She asked me not to.”
Agent Spellings raised a dark eyebrow. Obviously, she doubted Quinn’s answer.
“She asked me to give it to Jubilee’s father,” Quinn continued, her tone a little more defensive than she wanted it to be.
“I would have been curious enough to open it,” Agent Spellings countered. “Most people would have done the same.”
“I’m not most people. Jubilee’s father’s contact information was on the envelope. I didn’t have any need to see what was inside of it, and I had no reason to doubt my sister’s word.”
Agent Spellings snorted, the first time she’d done anything that was less than professional. “Of course you did. Your sister is as much of a con artist as your father was.”
It was a low blow, and one Quinn wasn’t expecting. Obviously, Jubilee and Tabitha weren’t the only ones the FBI had been investigating.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she hedged, not sure where the conversation was going but certain she wasn’t going to like it.
“Did you really think she wasn’t conning you, Quinn? That she didn’t know you were going to become bait? A way of getting whoever was after her off her tail?”
“All I know is that she was dead serious when she said she was afraid of her husband. She wasn’t conning me when she said he’d kill her when he found her.”
“Believing people we love is a lot easier than realizing we’ve been fooled and used by them.”
“I’m not a fool, Agent Spellings. Living with my father taught me how to know a lie from the truth.”
Agent Spellings sighed. “Then, maybe she was afraid but maybe it was because she took thousands of dollars from her husband’s bank account and stole a small fortune worth of family jewelry from his wall safe.”
“Who told you she did that?”
“A police report was filed in Las Vegas last night. We’re trying to get in touch with your sister’s husband now. He flew out of town on business a few hours after he filed the report.”
“Convenient,” Quinn muttered, but she felt exactly like what Agent Spellings had implied she was—tricked, duped, used.
“The trip had been scheduled for months, Quinn. As a matter of fact, your sister’s husband was supposed to leave yesterday morning. His flight was delayed, then canceled. He booked a second flight out late last night. I’m sure your sister wasn’t anticipating him coming home so soon and discovering what she’d stolen.”
“Has it occurred to you that she took what she did, because she was terrified, and she needed a way to start a new life?”
“Even if that was true—” and based on the way Agent Spellings looked when she said it, she didn’t think it was “—there’s no reasonable or acceptable excuse for committing a crime. I’m sure you know that, Quinn.”
She did, but she didn’t think Agent Spellings expected a response, so she kept her mouth shut.
“Like I said,” Agent Spellings continued, “you’re not in any kind of trouble. We know you were doing a favor for your sister, and we know that you had no idea the child you were transporting wasn’t hers. If you’d opened the envelope your sister gave you, you might have realized that before you traveled six hundred miles.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope, slid it toward Quinn. “This is Kendal Grace Anderson’s birth certificate. The original.”
“Oh,” was all she could manage, the official document sitting in front of her all the evidence she needed that Tabitha had had no business taking Jubilee anywhere.
“Your sister lied to you, Quinn. Jubilee was never her child. I’m sorry about that, but you can help us find out how Tabitha ended up with someone else’s child, and you can help us figure out how this document got into her hands.”
“And help send my sister to prison, right? That’s what you’re asking me to do,” she said, the words tasting like dust on her tongue.
“If your sister kidnapped a child, then she’s sent herself to prison.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t feel guilty about helping us with the investigation. Mr. Anderson has every right to know whether or not Jubilee is his. If she is, he has every right to know how she ended up in your sister’s custody.”
“I’ve told you everything I know. I gave one of the responding police officers Tabitha’s cell phone number. I told him where Tabitha said she was going.”
“Florida, right?”
“Yes.”
“She told you she booked a flight?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve checked the airports. She didn’t have a ticket.”
Another lie. They were piling up, and there was nothing Quinn could do but accept it. “I wish I had more information. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“If you think of anything else, let me know. If she contacts you, I need to know immediately. We’re trying to trace her cell phone.”
“Okay.”
“Sit tight,” Agent Spelling said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She walked out of the room, and Quinn was left alone, the soft tick of a clock and the quiet murmur of voices background music to the wild thumping of her heart.
She had been lied to.
She’d believed the lie.
She could toss in the towel, admit that her sister was a kidnapper, a thief, a con artist, and maybe those things really were true. But Tabitha had been terrified. There’d been no doubt about that. She’d been bruised, too. A faded black eye, a healing cut on her lip.
Quinn should have called the police the minute Tabitha told her that her husband and caused the marks, but Tabitha had begged her not to. Too dangerous. Her husband was too well connected. He knew people in high places.
Had it all been a lie to cover Tabitha’s crimes?
Given Tabitha’s history, it was an easy thing to believe, but Quinn didn’t believe it.
She’d seen terror in her sister’s eyes.
She couldn’t discount it. She wouldn’t.
Family first. That’s what her mother had taught Quinn. Always. Husband, kids. They’d all been a priority to Alison McConnell. Everyone first. Alison last. The stress of that had made Alison age well before she should have.
Quinn grabbed the cup of coffee her brother had poured an hour ago, surprised by the direction of her thoughts. Her mother had been gone for a decade. Her death had been the catalyst that had spurred Quinn to get her teaching degree. That had always been Alison’s dream—to teach children, but she’d put it on hold to marry and raise her children. Quinn had loved her mother for that. Her father? She’d tried.
She took a sip of cold coffee, wiped a splotch of condensation from the mug. She knew what her mother would want her to do, would expect her to do. Go back to Echo Lake, retrace her steps, try to figure out where Tabitha had gone. Alison would want Quinn to find out the truth about her sister, and then she’d want her to help her sister make things right.
Because Quinn had always been the sibling who followed the rules, did things the right way, tried to make everyone happy. She’d do it again this time. She owed her mother—for all the love she’d given her, for the money she’d set aside in a savings account for Quinn’s college. She owed her for teaching her the value of faith and the importance of love, because if Quinn had only had her father as an example, she’d have learned that people were there to be used, that family was there as a cover for criminal activity.
Even if she hadn’t owed her mother, she’d have gone looking for Tabitha. She needed to know the truth, and she needed to know her sister was safe.
She carried the coffee to the sink and poured it out. She needed to get her Jeep, get her purse, head back home.
“Everything okay in here?” a man said, the voice so unexpected she jumped, whirling toward the doorway.
Malone stood on the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space, the scar on his face deep red-purple.
“You scared a year off my life.”
“Sorry,” he said easily.
“It wouldn’t matter so much if I hadn’t already had ten years scared off back in the woods.”
“Sorry about that, too.” He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Not quite black, but close. And he didn’t smile. Not even a hint of it.
“You probably saved my life, so I guess an apology isn’t necessary.”
He nodded, his gaze dropping from her face to the bright pink t-shirt she’d chosen for the trip. Dozens of little hand prints were splattered across it in various colors. A Christmas gift from last year’s kindergarten class. On anyone else, it would have been fine, but it made Quinn look even younger than she already did.
“I’m a teacher,” she said, tugging her sweatshirt closed, her cheeks hot.
“I know.”
“The kids gave me this shirt last year.”
“No explanation necessary.”
“I wasn’t explaining.”
“Actually,” he said, something that might have been humor gleaming in his eyes, “you were.”
“Okay. I was. Agent Spellings just finished interrogating me. I’m a little frazzled.”
“She’d probably prefer to refer to it as an interview.”
“Whatever it was, I’m frazzled.”
“You shouldn’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve got nothing to hide. You’ve got no reason to be worried about speaking with law enforcement.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Did she say anything else?” he asked, and she knew there was something specific he wanted to know. Maybe about Jubilee and her biological father.
“She said a lot of things. Most of them were about my sister and not very flattering.”
“I’d apologize, but your sister has done a pretty good job of making herself look bad.”
“I know.”
“Did Agent Spellings ask when you realized you were being followed?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Is this your version of an interrogation?”
“I prefer to refer to it as an interview,” he said, and she almost laughed.
Almost.
Except there was nothing to laugh about.
Her sister was in trouble.
She was in trouble.
Jubilee’s entire life was about to be turned upside down.
“As far as I know, they started following me right before I hit New York.”
“You’re sure they didn’t follow you from home?”
“Agent Spellings asked me that, too, and I gave her the same answer I’ll give you—I’m sure. I would have noticed if they’d started following me earlier. There’s not much between Echo Lake and Boston.”
“It seems odd that they were able to pick up your trail so far from home, don’t you think?”
She hadn’t thought. Not about that, and Agent Spellings hadn’t mentioned it. She’d been too busy asking questions about Tabitha’s life. Questions Quinn hadn’t been able to answer.
“I guess it is.”
“It makes me think that someone besides Tabitha knew her plans.”
“No way. She was scared out of her mind. She wouldn’t have told anyone anything.”
“Not a friend? A lover?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”
“You’re not sure, Quinn. We both know it.” He said it kindly, but she heard the accusation in his words the same way she’d heard them in Agent Spellings’.
“You’re right. I’m not. My sister and I hadn’t spoken in years. I sent her Christmas cards and birthday cards and hoped they’d be forwarded to whatever place she’d moved to. I never got anything in response. I didn’t even know if she had my address. Then, she showed up on my doorstep, terrified. Was I supposed to turn her away?”
“No. You weren’t,” he said simply. “She was terrified of her husband, right?”
“Yes. She said he would be following her, trying to get her back. She also said he wouldn’t care about Jubilee.”
“I guess that wasn’t the truth.”
“There were a lot of things she said that weren’t the truth.” She didn’t want to discuss them, though. Not until she could wrap her mind around what her sister had done. Taken a child that wasn’t hers or her husbands? If that were the truth, how had Jubilee ended up in Las Vegas with them?
“Have you seen Jubilee?” She changed the subject, because that was easier than discussing her sister’s mistakes.
“She’s back in one of the bedrooms with a couple of CPS workers. I tried to get in, but it was a no-go. They’ve got her guarded tighter than Fort Knox.”
“When will her father be here?”
“Boone? Not for another twenty-something hours. If he’s her father. We haven’t established that yet. I’m hoping you can help me out, though.”
“How?”
“I heard a couple of the CPS workers talking about a birth certificate. Have you seen it?” There was no emotion in his voice, none on his face, but she could feel the energy in him, could sense his tension.
This was what he’d come into the kitchen to find out, and she had no reason to keep the truth from him. “Yes. It was in the envelope my sister gave me.”
He stilled, his dark eyes spearing into hers. “You got a good look at it?”
“I saw her father’s name and her mother’s.”
“And?”
“Your friend was listed as her biological father. Which matches with what my sister told me.” The one truth among the many lies.
“You don’t seem happy about it.”
“I’m not happy about any of this. The FBI seems to think Tabitha has been keeping a missing child for years. She may end up in jail and poor Jubilee—”
“Will be back with her father. Where she belongs.”
“It is a rough thing for a child to be pulled away from everything she knows.”
“It is just as rough a thing for a man to be without his child for five years,” he responded.
“If she’s his child.” But, she really didn’t doubt that Jubilee was.
“I saw her when we walked in the house. She looks just like him. A prettier, younger, cuter version, but just like him.” He grabbed a mug from a small stack near the coffeemaker. Small scars crisscrossed his knuckles, thin white lines against his tan skin. They were nothing like the scar on his face. That one was thick and jagged, stretching from the corner of his eye to his jaw.
“And there’s the birth certificate,” she said more to herself than to him. How had Tabitha gotten her hands on it? If Jubilee wasn’t Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, why had Tabitha asked her to bring the little girl to him?
“There’s that, too. Wonder where your sister got it.” His voice had gone quiet, his eyes suddenly cold and hard.
“I don’t know.”
“I may just have to see if I can find her. Boone deserves the truth.”
“So does everyone else, but you’re just going to have to join the crowd of people hoping to get it, because I have nothing else to offer.”
“Except that you’re the one person your sister has contacted since she left Las Vegas.”
“There’s that,” she murmured, grabbing a clean coffee cup and filling it with hot liquid. She took a sip. It tasted like sawdust and disappointment.
* * *
This was what Malone had been hoping to hear. A birth certificate with Boone’s name on it. It was the kind of thing that he’d been looking for. Not just a red-haired child with freckles and blue eyes. A document that linked that child with Boone.
He needed to track down Special Agent Spellings and confirm that the birth certificate was legit, then he’d call Chance. His boss had left DC nearly three hours ago. He’d be arriving soon, but this wasn’t the kind of news that Malone wanted to hold on to. The sooner they could confirm the birth certificate, the sooner they could start the process of petitioning CPS to run DNA tests. Five years was a long time to wait to be reunited with a loved one. He didn’t want Boone to have to wait even an hour longer.
Once he got the information about the birth certificate, he was going to do a little digging, see if he could figure out where Tabitha had gone. He wanted to talk to her.
So did a host of other people. Quinn was right about that. She was wrong about her sister, though. Tabitha had known exactly what she was getting Quinn into.
He was pretty certain that Quinn realized it now.
Too little, too late.
She was staring into her coffee cup as if she could find the mysteries of the universe in it, the bright pink hand-printed shirt peeking out from beneath her sweatshirt again.
She didn’t look angry. She looked...sad.
That bothered Malone more than he wanted it to.
A simple mission. In. Out. Back to his vacation. Only it wasn’t going to turn out that way. He set his mug down, took Quinn’s.
“You were right,” he said, placing it next to his.
“About what?”
“Everything is going to be okay.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did. You said it to Jubilee.”
She frowned, her smooth skin and large gray eyes making her look years younger than she was. She could have passed for a teenager, but he knew she’d been widowed for several years. He’d have liked to know more.
Like why a woman as smart as she seemed to be would believe the lies her sister had told her.
“I guess I did.” She offered a half smile and sighed. “I probably knew Tabitha wasn’t telling me the entire truth, but I never would have imagined that she had a child who wasn’t hers.”
“We could all be mistaken. That’s a possibility.”
“No. It’s not. I got a good look at the birth certificate. It was an original,” she responded.
“Did you see the baby’s name?”
“Kendal Grace Anderson.” Flyaway strands of hair stuck to her forehead and cheek. She brushed them away, moved toward the back door. “Mother’s name was Megan. Father’s name Daniel Boone Anderson.”
It all lined up.
Every detail.
“I need to call my boss,” he muttered. Once Boone got word about the birth certificate, he was going to be chomping at the bit, trying to get home faster than humanly possible. Returning home and being told he wasn’t going to be able to see his child wouldn’t sit well. Maybe Chance could work a little magic and make sure that didn’t happen.
“You go ahead. I...need some air.” Quinn walked to a small alcove at the back of the kitchen. A door led from there out to a porch.
Malone had already scouted the property, looking for areas that might be security risks. Quinn had been run off the road and chased into the woods. There was no guarantee the perpetrator wouldn’t return, but there were law enforcement officers all over the property and along the road where Quinn’s Jeep had been abandoned. She’d be fine outside on her own, but he followed anyway, stepping into the cool night air.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” Quinn murmured as she settled onto a bench swing that hung from porch eaves.
“Who said I was?” He settled down beside her, the chains creaking.
“You were going to call your boss.”
“It can wait.”
“Until?”
“I make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was tiny. Probably a foot shorter than Malone, but her personality seemed bigger—her voice, her gestures, those eyes that seemed to take up most of her face.
“You were lied to. You were put in danger. You trusted someone, and you were betrayed.” They were all good reasons for not being okay, but Quinn shrugged.
“I’ve been through worse.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
She turned her head, looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze dropping to the scar on his cheek, the one on his hands. “I think you’ve been through way worse, so I don’t think you should be sorry for me.”
“Trouble is relative.” He stood and paced to the porch railing, because he didn’t want her to ask about the scars. It wasn’t something he discussed—the torture, the sorrow of losing brothers in arms, the helplessness of watching it happen. “Is there someone you want me to call?”
“About?”
“You. Your brother is busy with the police. I thought you might want some moral support.”
“If my husband were alive,” she said quietly, “I’d want him here. He’s not, and there’s no one else.”
“I’ll say I’m sorry again. For your loss, this time.”
“Thanks.”
“I know it doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t, but after a while, the agony fades to a dull ache.”
He’d been there. Done that. He knew how it felt to lose someone and to move on from it. The ache never left. It simply became tolerable.
“Quinn—” he began, not really sure what he was going to say, not actually sure he should say anything.
They were strangers, and nothing he could say to her would make any difference.
“Are you going to let Daniel know about the birth certificate?” She cut him off.
“Daniel?” he asked, confused for a split second before the name registered. “Boone. That’s what he goes by. I’ll send him a text. Our boss will, too.”
“Boss?”
“Chance Miller. He owns HEART.”
“I’d like to say I’ve heard of it.”
“But you haven’t? Neither have most people. We’re a privately owned hostage rescue team. We also provide security, do cyber forensics. Lots of things.”
“Including tracking down a coworker’s missing child?”
“That, too.” He stood, the swing creaking as it moved. “Hopefully, this will all pan out. I’d hate for Boone to get his hopes up and then have them dashed.”
“I have a feeling it will. I just hope that it pans out for Jubilee, too. She deserves to have a happy ending, because I don’t think her beginning has been easy.”
“I saw the bruise on her cheek.”
“There are a few on her arms, too. And, she doesn’t talk. Boone will have his work cut out for him.”
“He’s up for it. He’s been waiting for this for five years, preparing for it.”
“Maybe you can give me a call after they meet, let me know how it goes.”
“You could stick around. Find out for yourself.”
“I need to get back to Echo Lake. I’ve got a job, a whole classroom full of kindergartners who won’t know what to do if I’m not there.”
“You like the little kids, huh?”
“I do, but it’s also the only grade that I could be guaranteed to be taller than all my pupils.”
That surprised a laugh out of him, and she smiled. “Yeah, it was a joke, but I have met third graders who are almost as tall as me.”
The back door opened, and August stepped outside.
“I’ve been looking for you, Quinn. Is everything okay out here?” he asked.
“Just waiting to get permission to go home,” she responded.
“You have it. The authorities have your contact information, and Agent Spellings said you’re free to go when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.” She stood. “I’ve just got to get my Jeep...”
“I drove it here,” August said. “But I think you should stay until the sun comes up.”
“It’s almost up now,” she responded. “And the sooner I get on the road, the sooner I can get home. I’ve got a classroom full of rowdy five-year-olds to face on Monday morning.”
