“The roses caper?” Mason grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Come on, Bree, you have to admit it would take a crazy person to murder over roses.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Bree leaned forward. “Did you talk to Tina?”
“Sure. She claims she and Florence made up two weeks before the death.”
“Any evidence that it’s true?” Bree asked. She glanced over to see Jenna examining her nails.
“I need a manicure,” Jenna muttered.
Mason leaned forward, ignoring Jenna’s self-absorption. “No one overheard them talking, if that’s what you mean. Watson claims Florence called her up and apologized for stealing a rose clipping. Said she was going to give an interview to the paper and confess.” His voice held amusement.
“Did she? Call the paper, I mean?”
“I talked to the editor and he said he had no story like that in the pipeline. But maybe Florence hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”
It sounded fishy to Bree. She told Mason what Tina said about seeing Victor with a baby. “I wondered if she was trying to smear Florence’s name.”
Mason’s mouth went tight. “There’s more to it than you know, Bree. I checked some local and out-of-town stores. Victor had been buying bottles and diapers. For at least a year.”
Jenna gasped. “What are you accusing him of?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Aware her mouth dangled open, Bree gulped and closed it. “The description Ellie’s mother gave us sounded like Victor. You think he’s been involved all along in the adoption thing?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Olivia began to fuss. Bree lifted her from the carrier and jostled the baby on her knee.
Bree leaned forward. “Could I see Victor?”
“Not with the baby. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll keep her,” Jenna said. “I just saw him yesterday. You go on back and I’ll wait here with Olivia and Samson.”
Bree raised a questioning gaze to Mason, and he nodded. “I’ll take you to an examination room and go get him,” he said, rising from his chair.
Mason led her to a room at the end of the hall. Bree dug out the sudokus Victor had done and spread them out on the table. They didn’t tell her anything, but she hoped when he saw them, he might react. She didn’t have to wait long before she heard steps and the key at the door of the room.
Victor shuffled in. There was a stubby pencil behind his ear. Mason glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes?”
“That should be fine,” Bree said. “Hey, Vic, sit down a minute. I thought maybe we could do some puzzles together, just like old times. You game?” She watched for a reaction, but he simply shuffled to the other chair and sat in it with his head down.
Bree studied him: lank blondish hair that needed a trim, a spotty complexion that the garish color of the jumpsuit only emphasized, and downcast blue eyes. In the past she’d seen him animated and talkative, waving his hands as he spoke. This young man seemed to have had the life drained out of him. It hurt her to see him this way.
She slid a puzzle across the table to him. “Buddy, did you create this?”
He didn’t nod or shake his head. His hands clasped in his lap, he stared at the sudoku.
“Do you have any new ones?”
Slowly his hand went to his chest, and he reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and smoothed in down on the table.
Bree leaned forward. The page was blank, but Victor took out a pencil and began to draw lines that soon became boxes. His long fingers moved quickly and the grids appeared. He began filling in some of the boxes but left most of them empty, so Bree knew he was creating a puzzle for her to do. He put the pencil behind his ear again, then slid the paper across the table to her.
She studied it and realized the top row would form that same number again. “What do the top numbers mean, Vic? I don’t understand.”
He stood and shuffled to the door, where he laid his head against the door. Bree went to join him. She touched his arm. “Vic? Please explain. Jenna and I want to get you out of here.”
He began to bang his head against the wall. “Don’t do that!” she said. She tried to pull him from the door, but he thumped his head even harder. “Mason,” she called.
The key scraped in the lock, and the sheriff peered inside. “Ready to go back to your cell, Victor?” he asked.
Victor hung his head, and she knew this puzzle was the only clue she was going to get.
Lights shone in a welcoming halo from the windows of the lighthouse. The day had seemed unending to Bree. She hurried with Olivia up the path to the house. Samson followed. It was like walking through a snow tunnel with the high piles of shoveled snow on either side. If they had another storm, Kade wouldn’t be able to heft the snow high enough. Her gaze swept the yard. No new footprints.
Since she’d found the pipe, she’d watched for another sign.
The baby was wailing when she reached the living room where Kade sat on the floor playing Uno with Davy. “There, there,” Bree crooned, smoothing the fuzz on the infant’s head. “Don’t cry, Olivia.”
Davy jumped up and ran to the baby. “Hey, Olivia,” he crooned. “You just missed me, didn’t you?”
Surprisingly, the baby quieted at Davy’s voice. Bree smiled. “I think she did miss you.”
Kade glanced up. “She probably has another name. You have to be careful not to get too attached, Bree.” His voice was stern.
She pressed her lips together, unsure how to convince him the baby needed them. The tension in the room escalated. Bree didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she would have to give up this tiny girl. She snuggled the infant and inhaled the sweet aroma of baby powder. She’d been quick to buy her favorite— Baby Magic. The scent brought back many happy memories of when Davy was born.
Samson shook the snow from his fur and came to lie down at Bree’s feet.
Davy took the baby’s hand, and her fingers curled around his thumb. “Hi, Olivia,” he crooned. He looked up at his mother. “Did you find her mom and dad today?”
Bree shook her head. “I’m still working on it.” She watched her son turn back to make faces at the baby. Was Olivia’s mother somewhere mourning her loss the way Bree had mourned that year for Davy?
Davy tickled the baby under the chin. “Do you like living here, Olivia?” He glanced up at his mother. “We’ll try to make it nice until we find your mom.”
Her urgency to find Olivia’s parents flared again. Though she’d investigated today, she secretly hoped to find nothing. Davy’s reminder that someone might be searching for the baby kicked up her anxiety.
Kade went down on one knee by Davy. The seven-year-old looped his arm around his father’s neck and leaned against him. One day soon the adoption would be final.
The doorbell rang, and Kade sprang up. “I’ll get it.”
Moments later, she recognized Mason’s deep tones. He had said nothing about stopping by. He must have news.
The sheriff ’s burly figure stepped into view behind Kade. He carried his hat in his hands. “Evening, Bree.”
She stood with her fingers tightening around Olivia. “Is there news?”
He nodded. “Another missing baby report filed in Marquette. Chuck Loonsfoot and his girlfriend, Mandy Walker.”
Bree glanced at the sleeping child in her arms. “Olivia isn’t Native American. Besides, I think she is Ellie Bristol’s baby.”
“The mother is Caucasian. We have to check it out. I want to take the baby to the couple and see if they identify her.”
Bree’s face went hot, then cold. “I’ll go with you.”
“Bree, I’m not sure that’s wise,” Kade said.
“I have to go, Kade!” Bree swallowed hard. “If-if we have to give her up, I’ll want to say good-bye.”
“We’ll all go then,” Kade said. “Davy will want to give her a last kiss.”
Did he even
care they might lose Olivia? Bree swallowed down her tears and put a few extra diapers in Olivia’s bag.
Davy’s eyes grew round. “Uncle Mason, you mean you found Olivia’s mommy?”
Mason touched his nephew’s red hair. “I don’t know, Davy. Maybe. Maybe not. We can only go check it out.”
The boy blinked his eyes fiercely but smiled through his watery eyes. “Okay. I’ll get my coat. And her teddy bear.”
The lump forming in Bree’s throat became a boulder. She laid Olivia in her carrier and tucked the cover over it, then slipped on her coat. Kade grabbed the diaper bag, and they all went out to Mason’s SUV. Even Samson tagged along. Mason let the dog into the back hatch. Kade took the baby from Bree and secured Olivia’s car seat carrier.
All the way to the reservation, Bree alternated between the unselfish hope that Olivia’s parents would be found and a plea to God that she and Kade be allowed the keep the baby. When Mason’s SUV rolled along the roads to Marquette and stopped at a block building, she took a deep, calming breath. Whatever happened next was what God knew was best. Hard as it was, she needed to keep that truth in mind.
She freed Olivia’s carrier and climbed out of the backseat with the baby. Davy slid out after her and took her other hand. She squeezed his fingers. “We’ll be all right, no matter what.”
“I know,” he said. “She needs her mom. Just like I did.”
She knew he loved the baby as much as she did. How could a child show the way to such an unselfish path?
“Want me to carry her?” Kade asked, joining them on the sidewalk.
“No, I’ve got her.” She wasn’t taking in the diaper bag unless they had to. Her pulse hammered as Mason led them into the police headquarters. The parents were supposed to be here waiting.
As soon as they entered with the baby carrier, a man and woman shot to their feet and rushed toward them. Chuck and Mandy.
“I want my baby,” the woman cried out. In her midtwenties, she was beautiful with big blue eyes. Her straight blonde hair fell nearly to her waist.
Her boyfriend touched her arm. “We don’t know if this is our baby,” he reminded her. About Mandy’s age, his coloring was as dark as hers was fair.
Bree exchanged a glance with Kade and Mason. It was possible the woman was Olivia’s mother. Bree peeled back the cover to expose Olivia’s face. “Is this your daughter?” she asked.
The bright hope in the couple’s faces drained away. Mandy closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Our Ruth has black hair that sticks up like a woodpecker’s feathers. Her cheeks are fat and round.” She sank back onto the bench by the door and buried her face in her hands.
Her sobs broke Bree’s heart. She handed the carrier to Kade and went to Mandy. “Is there anything I can do?” she said, sitting beside the stricken mother.
The woman raised her head. “No.” Her gaze locked with Bree’s. “Who would do this—steal a baby?”
“What happened to your baby girl?” Bree asked.
“I carried her outside with me to the backyard to feed the chickens. I put the carrier down on the porch a minute to get the feed, and when I turned back around—she was gone.” Her voice broke, and tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry.” Who would have taken an infant when the mother’s back was turned? “Do you have any idea who might have taken her?”
Mandy’s eyes widened. “Chuck says it was a windigo,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the dark window. “But they’re not real, are they? He’s so superstitious.”
Under normal circumstances, Bree would have laughed, but the fright in the woman’s eyes made the chuckle die in Bree’s throat. “Why does he say that?” she asked.
“I-I heard a scream. Strange and terrifying. It made me shudder and run to get Ruth. That’s when I found out she was gone.” Mandy clasped herself. “I hope I never hear that sound again.” She rose and went to Chuck, who stood talking to the men. When she touched his arm, he nodded to them, and the two of them went out into the cold.
Bree joined the men where they stood talking to the policeman. “Did you hear what she said?” she asked. Kade shook his head. “She said Loonsfoot thought her baby had been taken by a windigo. She heard a weird scream.”
The policeman nodded. “I have had several of these reports. And I heard a scream myself, just last week. It was enough to make me run for the house.”
“What did it sound like?” Kade asked.
“A wild, lonely sound. Full of rage and hate,” the man said. “I gotta admit, I was looking over my shoulder.”
Kade glanced out the window into the dark yard. “Where did you hear it?”
“From the woods behind my house. Around midnight. I was on the porch smoking.”
“You said you’d had other reports,” Mason said.
“Reports of the screaming.”
Bree knew her husband—he was on the trail to discovering what animal would make that sound. She didn’t believe in the windigo, but the longer the man talked, the more uneasy she grew.
Kade shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Davy sidled closer to him, and Kade took out his right hand and put it on the boy’s head. “Any tracks?”
“There was nothing I could determine.”
“I’d like to see,” Kade muttered.
The officer shrugged. “Nothing to see, but you’re welcome to look.” He gave Kade the address to his house.
Olivia began to cry, and Bree glanced at her watch. Feeding time. A good distraction from the fear that had begun to creep up her neck.
14
HER FIRST PAYCHECK. WEDNESDAY MORNING, LAURI CLUTCHED the envelope in her hand and turned on her computer. Only for a few days’ pay, but the money held the promise of a new life for her and Wes. She jiggled her mouse and checked her e-mail. Nothing. The day’s work consisted of working on quarterly reports for several clients so Mrs. Saunders could pay the taxes.
She bent to her task and several hours passed before she knew it. Rubbing the ache in her neck, she decided a cup of coffee would give her a boost. Starting to the door, she glimpsed a man stride past. It was Mrs. Saunders’s husband. She faltered at his grim expression.
Her phone rang, and she stepped back to grab it. Mrs. Saunders demanded her presence. Now. Maybe Lauri would get to hear what Mr. Saunders had to say. Aware she shouldn’t be so nosy, she rushed down to her boss’s office with her notepad. Raised voices echoed into the hallway, and she paused, uncertain about entering Mrs. Saunders’s office.
“I’m doing all I can,” Mr. Saunders said.
“It’s not enough!” Mrs. Saunders’s voice vibrated with anger. “Do what they want, Mike. You have no choice.”
“I hate giving in to blackmail.”
Mrs. Saunders’s voice softened. “We already gave them the money. Just withdraw the mine and it will be over. I want it to be over.”
Blackmail? Was that what Lauri had taken in the briefcase? A payoff? She wondered why the Saunderses would be blackmailed and whether she should report what she’d heard. But really, it was no business of hers. And she might lose her job.
If she got a chance, she’d talk to Kade about it.
The cold wind blew off a frozen Lake Superior, and the sun tried to shine through the cloud cover. Quinn stood on the promontory behind the lighthouse and listened to the horn out in the bay. He adjusted the wig but took off the sunglasses. No one would see him today.
He wasn’t here to moon over the past and what might have been. He’d made his choice, and now he had everything he wanted. Everything except his son, and he meant to remedy that.
His cell phone rang, and he saw it was Jenna. “Hey, everything okay?”
“I just left the jail. Victor still isn’t talking. They’re going to convict him, Quinn, I just know it. What can I do?”
“Have you talked to his lawyer?”
Her laugh was bitter. “The kid is fresh out of law school.”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice despondent. “He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t react. I can’t even tell if he knows I’m in the room. And he’s still doing those endless puzzles. It’s driving me crazy.”
The wind was freezing his butt off, and he was ready to end the call. Her whining didn’t do anyone any good. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, I guess.” She sighed. “Where are you?”
“At the lighthouse. I’m just here figuring out how best to pull it off.” And how to get the boy, but he didn’t mention that part. He wanted to get inside and get this reconnaissance over with before Bree came back. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
“How long do I have to stay with Bree? I’m getting tired of lying to her. She’s a nice lady.”
“Not much longer. I’m guessing he’ll cave in the next two days. Then we can grab the baby and go.” She’d have to know about his intentions to take Davy sooner or later, but not yet.
“Do you have a heart at all, Quinn?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Where’d that come from? I’m trying to help you.”
The click on the other end told him she’d hung up. He rolled his eyes. Women. He’d never figure them out. Jenna’s moods changed faster than Lake Superior’s weather.
The key in his pocket used to fit the door, and if he knew Bree, it still did. She would have seen no reason to change it. In seconds it was in his hand, and he was standing at the back door. His own back door. The lock accepted the key and turned easily, and he stepped into the kitchen.
Nostalgia caught him unawares. He’d walked away from his old life years ago. He moved to the sink and touched the faucet handles. The installation of these had been tricky, and he’d had to do it twice before he’d gotten them turning the right direction.
His gaze swept the refrigerator. Did she still drink root beer? He pulled the handle and looked. Six cans of Dad’s Root Beer were on the bottom shelf. A smile tugged at his lips, but he couldn’t afford to become sentimental. Leaving the kitchen, he found his way into the living room. A photo album was on the bookcase. He flipped it open. A picture of him with Davy and Samson was on the first page. It had been taken just before the plane crash.
Cry in the Night Page 13
