Mark took Lindsay's hand as they settled on the couch. He had the look of a runner, long, lean, and thin. He wore gray slacks and a light-blue, button-down shirt. Lindsay had on black yoga pants and a form-fitting zip-up jacket. Neither looked like they had slept. They were pale, with shadows under their eyes and desperation written across the lines of their faces.
"What can we tell you to help us get our daughter back?" Mark asked quickly. "The other FBI agent said you're some kind of expert?"
"I've investigated similar cases. I know you've already told your story several times, and I promise this won't take long, but I need you to tell me again when you realized Hayley was missing."
"All right. Whatever it takes to bring my baby home." He drew in a breath. "Hayley was supposed to perform a ballet number at the fall concert last night," he said, his voice thick with pain. "When the curtain came up for her group, she wasn't on stage." He swallowed hard. "We went into the back to find out what was wrong. We thought she had gotten stage fright. She can be shy at times. The teacher said she'd seen her go into the bathroom with Grace before their group performed."
"But Hayley wasn't there," Lindsay continued. "I went into the restroom, and there was no one inside. I looked all around for her. You can't imagine the terror that ran through my mind. It was her school, a safe place. Everyone backstage knew her." Her voice broke as a tear ran down her face.
"The back door to the stage was open," Mark said, when his wife faltered in the story. "We ran into the staff parking lot. Hayley wasn't there, but one of the other kids said she saw Hayley leave with someone. That's when the police were called."
"That child would be Grace Roberts?"
"Yes. She's a year younger than Hayley, but they have been taking ballet together for the last two years, and they've become good friends," Lindsay put in. "Grace said she thought Hayley had just gotten scared and decided not to perform." Lindsay took an anguished breath. "You have to find my daughter, Agent Adams. She must be so scared. I can't imagine what she's thinking." More tears ran down Lindsay's face, and Mark pulled his wife into a tight embrace.
"Please," he said, heartbreak in his voice, as he looked back at her. "Find her. She's our baby girl. I've already told the detective I'll take a polygraph. I'll do whatever needs to be done, as will Lindsay and anyone else in the family. I know the father is always the first suspect. Do what you have to do to cross me off the suspect list, so we can figure out who took her."
She nodded, seeing sincerity and candor in Mark's eyes. "Is there anyone who has a problem with you or your wife? Any incidents with neighbors, friends, coworkers? A road rage incident you might have forgotten about? Any small problem that you don’t think is connected but might be?"
"No," he said. "We've thought and thought all night long. We don't have problems with people. Our lives have been drama free until now. We can't imagine anyone who would want to hurt us or Hayley. She's just a sweetheart."
"And no one has contacted you?" she pressed, hating to put them through this, but finding Hayley was all that mattered. "There hasn't been any request for money? No one has told you not to tell the police or work with the FBI?"
"No," Mark said, shaking his head again. "I wish someone had contacted me. I'd sell everything we own to get Hayley back."
Mark and Lindsay were saying everything she would have expected them to say, and their behavior was absolutely consistent with what they were going through, but she wanted to split up the husband and wife team for at least a few moments.
"Mrs. Jansen—can I see Hayley's bedroom? I want to know as much about her as I can, and it helps to see where she sleeps," she said, getting to her feet.
Lindsay stood up, wiping the tears off her wet cheeks. "Of course. I'll show you."
Bree was happy that Mark chose not to accompany them upstairs. He seemed to have the bigger, strong personality, and she wanted to know what Lindsay would say on her own, if her husband wasn't in the room.
As Bree stepped into Hayley's bedroom, she felt like she was walking into a childhood dream. Everything was white and pink and purple. There were pillows and stuffed animals on the bed, shelves filled with books, an overflowing toy box, and a big bay window that overlooked the front street.
She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to grow up in a room so special, so safe, so comforting and then to be ripped out of it.
Hayley Jansen was not a tough, street kid; she was a pampered princess, just as she should be, and they needed to find her fast.
Walking across the room, she paused in front of a family photo. It had been taken before Hayley's siblings had been born, and the brown-haired little girl was about two years old. She looked happy and well loved.
"That's one of my favorite pictures. I like to have photos of each one of my kids on their own," Lindsay said.
"I understand Hayley was adopted."
"Yes. She's our miracle. We tried for ten years to have a child or to adopt, and we'd almost given up hope when Hayley came along. She was the prettiest baby I'd ever seen, even though she was bald as could be, with only about three strands of hair on her head." Lindsay gave her a sad smile. "She smiled at me, and I knew she was mine. She was home. She was where she was supposed to be."
Lindsay's heartfelt words tugged at her heart. Interviewing the parents was always tough, and it took all she had to keep it together and focus on the job.
"I understand your other two kids are your biological children?"
"Yes. It was crazy. All those years of trying and nothing. Then Hayley turns four, and I find out I'm pregnant with Connor. Morgan came two years later. I love them all so much. I don't love Hayley less because I didn't give birth to her. She's my child—one hundred percent."
"I believe you," she said, feeling as if Lindsay needed some sort of reassurance.
"The police asked me about her biological parents, but we never knew anything about them. The mother wanted a closed adoption, and we did, too. We wanted to be Hayley's parents. We didn't want anyone else in the mix. Maybe that sounds selfish, but it felt like it would be too complicated any other way."
"Does Hayley know she's adopted?"
"No. We're going to tell her when she's older."
"You're not afraid someone in the family will say something to her?"
"My parents know, and they feel the same way we do—that Hayley isn't ready to deal with it. Mark's parents are deceased."
"What about friends, cousins, neighbors?"
"There are a few other people who know, but they would never say anything." Lindsay paused, giving Bree a questioning look. "Do you know anything about the biological parents? I asked the detectives, and they wouldn't say. Are they involved in this?"
"I honestly don't know. But we're going to run down every lead as fast as we can. I can promise you that."
"The waiting is torture."
"I know. Now, tell me what Hayley is like."
"She's shy, but she can be funny when she's with her friends, when she feels comfortable. She's very caring. She loves animals, especially bunnies," she said with a watery laugh as she tipped her head toward the pile of animals. "Unfortunately, my son Connor is allergic, so we haven’t been able to bring a pet into the home. It's crazy now that there are dogs searching for her. The detectives took some of her things, so the dogs could pick up her scent." Lindsay's mouth shook again. "I want them to find her alive. I can't bear the thought that they won't."
"Try to stay positive."
"You've worked on cases like this before? Something to do with the white rose?"
"Yes."
"What happened to those other children?"
"The last one was found alive. She's going to be okay." Bree hoped that piece of news would give Lindsay a little hope.
But Lindsay focused in on three words. "The last one? What about the others?"
"We don't know if Hayley's case is tied to the other abductions."
"But it sounds like it might be."
; "We're going to do everything we can to find your daughter. You have a huge team looking for Hayley."
"I know. Mark and I are so grateful. We just want to bring her home, take her in our arms and never let her go."
"I hope that happens really soon," she said, as they headed downstairs.
When they reached the entry, Mark came out of the living room and pulled his wife into an embrace. She left the two of them in their anguish as she walked out of the house, pushing her way past reporters who asked her if she had anything new to report. She made no comment. She was definitely not the official spokesperson for this case.
As she reached the end of the block, she pulled out her phone to check on the other address she'd been given. She wanted to check in with their only eyewitness—Grace Roberts. She lived just three blocks away. While Grace had also been interviewed extensively, Bree wanted to ask a few of her own questions. Now that some time had passed since Hayley's abduction the night before, Grace might remember more than she had previously.
She was almost to Grace's house when her phone vibrated.
Pulling it out of the pocket of her navy-blue slacks, she saw an unidentified number. Her pulse sped up. "Agent Adams," she said crisply.
"So formal," the altered voice said. "You and I are going to get very close…Bree."
"Then maybe I should know who you are."
"That would take the fun away."
"What do you want?"
"What you want—a worthy competitor."
"I'm not competing with you."
"Aren't you?" He paused. "I like it better when you wear your hair down." At the end of his statement, the call disconnected.
Her gut tightened as she looked around the neighborhood. Was he watching her?
She thought she saw a curtain flutter in a window across the street, but that could be anyone, or just her imagination.
"You want to compete," she muttered. "You better be ready to lose."
She slid her phone into her pocket, wondering what the game was, and if Hayley was also an unwilling player.
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Barbara Freethy is a #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of 68 novels ranging from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. With over 12 million copies sold, twenty-three of Barbara’s books have appeared on the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Lists, including SUMMER SECRETS which hit #1 on the New York Times!
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Can't Fight The Moonlight (Whisper Lake Book 3) Page 25
