by Joya Fields
Charlie held the case closer to his chest and gazed at his lap. “No. I’m sorry, that’s not possible.”
“Logan’s with the Baltimore Police Department,” Keely stated. “He could get a subpoena.” She had no idea whether this situation qualified under search warrant rules, and if it didn’t, Logan couldn’t legally threaten to get one. But she could.
Charlie frowned, but stared down at his lap with his lips in a tight line. “It’s my briefcase, and it’s got my private stuff in it.” He glanced up. “I would never hurt Ben, never in a million years.”
He loosened his grip on the case. “Besides, look.” He pointed to a spot next to the engraved cross. “It’s got my initials, see? My initials—CNJ. Not Ben’s initials—BMA.” He held the case closer and she nodded.
“He’s right. Dad’s has his initials.” Her muscles relaxed, but her heart still pumped hard. Why wouldn’t Charlie just show them the contents? What was he hiding?
Logan frowned, but let it go. “Is Ben’s office unlocked?” he asked. “We need to look at Su Lin’s file. Ben gave us permission. You can call him to verify, if you want.”
Keely glanced across the room at the two closed doors—one was her dad’s and one belonged to Dave.
Charlie yanked open the top drawer and loosened his grip on the briefcase. “Here.” He held out a ring with a dozen keys on it. “This one,” he said, pulling out one of the keys with a dot of red paint on it, “is Ben’s and Dave’s. They have the same lock on their doors. I color-coded the keys myself.” He yanked a tissue out of a box on his desk and blotted sweat from his forehead and face.
“Thanks, Charlie. We’re all on edge about my dad’s attack, so please don’t take anything personally. We’re just trying to find facts.”
Charlie tucked his briefcase between his feet and set back to work on the computer.
Keely unlocked her dad’s office door, acutely aware of Logan’s breath on her neck as he stood close behind her. She forced herself to refocus and walked into the small, cluttered room that smelled of old books. She eased behind her dad’s desk, sat in the worn-out vinyl chair, and opened the bottom file drawer.
“What the hell was that all about?” Logan murmured, his gaze darting to the spot in the reception area where Charlie sat.
“I don’t know, but Charlie is obviously hiding something. Do you think you should get a search warrant even though it’s not my dad’s briefcase?” she asked. Had they let Charlie off too easy?
“I doubt a judge would sign off with so little evidence. I don’t know why he wouldn’t open it if he didn’t have anything to hide, though.”
Logan’s gaze connected with hers. What would it be like to run her fingers through his hair, or to have those strong arms around her?
“What sort of private stuff do you think he keeps in his briefcase?” She nodded at Charlie.
Logan pursed his lips. “Drugs? Money?”
“I don’t think so. He’s always been so nice and so good at his job. It’s hard to believe he’d do anything to hurt my dad.”
Logan gave her a look.
“I know, I know. Everyone’s a suspect.” She keyed open the drawer and flipped through hanging file folders. “Here’s the Loving Arms section.”
Many of the names on the files she recognized, some she didn’t. Since several cases dealt with private adoptions, her dad often had to keep names confidential. She riffled through the file tabs twice.
“Su Lin’s file isn’t here.” She closed the drawer and stood.
“Maybe it’s one of these.” Logan leafed through a pile of files on her dad’s desk.
She glanced at the piles of paperwork on a nearby cabinet and thumbed through them, finding nothing on Su Lin or her family. Loudly, she called out, “Charlie, do you know if anyone’s been in this office since Ben’s attack?”
Shuffling footsteps moved toward the office. She looked up to see Charlie leaning against the doorjamb.
“Don’t think so. Ben’s the only one who comes in here. The only time other people come in is to meet with him.” He drummed his fingers on the wall and stared at the ceiling. “Since the day he left for the airport to pick up the girl, nobody’s been in here as far as I know.”
Her gut twisted and frustration grew. She thought it’d be easy—they’d find the copy of the file, read it, and gain some insight on who might want the information. They really needed to find Su Lin’s parent’s phone number, too. If she was missing for real…
“Okay, thanks.” She threw a half-hearted smile at Charlie, who turned and left the room. “Anything?” she asked Logan, blowing stray hairs off her face. Couldn’t anything be simple in this search?
He tapped a pile of colorful folders in a neat stack on her father’s desk and straightened. “Nothing with Su Lin’s name.” He scanned the room. “Who else has access to this room? Who else has a key?”
“I think just Charlie, my dad, and Dave. But you saw where the key is kept. Anyone could have gotten it.”
Logan cupped his smooth jaw with his hand, massaging it as he gazed at the paneled wall. God, did he ever look good. She pressed her lips together, reminding herself this was not the time to admire his chiseled jaw and cheekbones.
“Charlie might not fit the physical description of the assailants, but someone else at the church might.”
“Hey, look. Dad’s phone book.” She squeezed around the desk to a drawer, opened it and pulled out a book. Scanning to the right page, she found it. “Yes! Here’s the Lins’ phone number in Los Angeles.”
“Happen to know anyone who speaks Thai?”
“Amy Bittinger. She’s originally from Thailand. You met her outside Dad’s hospital room.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “The same Bittinger family Charlie just told us owns one of the matching briefcases?”
Keely nodded. “Why?”
“Let’s pay them a visit.” Logan moved next to the open file drawer, thumbed through a few files, then froze. “What the hell?” he said, pulling a folder from the drawer.
“What?” She stepped behind him, glancing at the name on the file.
“Quinn.” He opened the file.
It didn’t feel right to be so nosy, but if something in these files could lead them to her dad’s attacker, it was justified. She stood beside him and read the top page. “The file says these people were turned down as adoptive parents.”
Logan stared at the paper, his jaw clenched.
“Who’s Quinn?” she asked. Whoever this Quinn was, something was very wrong.
“My partner.”
…
In his car in the church parking lot, Logan hunched over his phone in the front seat of his SUV and tapped the screen for Quinn’s number, knowing Keely sat staring at him from the passenger seat. The afternoon sun warmed the interior and he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Why wouldn’t Quinn have told him about his connection to Loving Arms?
Quinn’s cell phone went straight to voicemail.
“I’ll try his home phone.” He dialed, and Marcie Quinn answered on the first ring. “Logan, how are you? You have to come over for dinner soon.”
“I’d love to.” It was a line, something she expected him to say. Marcie’s alcoholism kept her moods unpredictable. Too many times she’d arranged a gathering, too many times people had shown up when she didn’t want them there. “Is Quinn around?”
“He’s asleep. Took a pill, so he’s out for a while.” Her voice was hushed.
Night shift got tougher on cops as the years wore on, and Quinn was pushing fifty. “Have him call me when he wakes up, okay?” he said, then disconnected and glanced at Keely.
“We didn’t have a subpoena for those files.”
He shook his head. “We had Ben’s permission to look through them.”
“Why does finding Quinn’s name on a file make you suspicious?”
“Why didn’t he tell me he was filing for adoption? And why, especially after Ben was attacked, didn
’t he tell me that he and Marcie had a connection to Loving Arms? He knew Ben ran the program.”
“Maybe their plan to adopt was something he wanted kept private.”
“Yeah, well, I need to hear it from him.”
He’d deal with Quinn soon enough. What worried him now was Keely. He wanted to take her to the airport, put her on a plane to a tropical island, and tell her to stay there until he figured out why Ben had been attacked. But there was no way he’d convince her to go.
He tried not to notice how beautiful her face was in the afternoon light, how her small nose was set perfectly between two wide eyes. And her full lips. No, he wouldn’t even go there.
Solving this case would mean he’d no longer have an excuse to see her. But she didn’t need him. Hadn’t Lillian said as much when she picked him up at the jail ten years ago? Besides, Keely deserved better than him.
The poison that ran through his father’s veins had tainted him, too. He’d unleashed it a few times in his life—as recently as several months ago. Sure, he’d been cleared of the brutality complaint. But had he slammed the guy to the sidewalk too hard? His temper had overtaken him, and suddenly what he had watched his father do to his mother time and time again, he was doing himself.
The desk job in Texas would keep him from testing his temper again. He just needed to sign the contract and turn in his resignation.
Once he made sure Keely and Ben were safe, that’s when the withdrawals would hit. He’d grown up surrounded by the influences of drugs and alcohol. But he’d stayed clean. Ironically, the one thing he couldn’t seem to do without, the one thing he craved as much as druggies and drunks craved crack and gin, was Keely. She was his drug of choice.
Helping with this case was a way to pay Ben back for all he’d done for Logan. But when he started the engine, the truth hit him hard. He wanted to spend more time with Keely before he’d have to let her go again.
Suddenly, he found it hard to concentrate. A little dizzy. Working on an empty stomach was never a good thing. “We might only have one chance to talk to Su Lin’s parents. Let’s make a list of questions before we ask Amy Bittinger to call. We could stop at Vemezia’s.”
Keely’s eyes widened and a smile lit her face.
“Our old haunt,” she said. “I haven’t been there in years.”
Neither had he. It reminded him too much of her. Vemezia’s had been their place to eat any time they had some extra cash, which wasn’t often, making the place even more special.
“It’s on the way.”
“I hope they still serve breakfast all day.”
One last time at their special place. A moment to savor now, and a memory to take with him to Texas.
…
Keely slid into a chair across from Logan. She could hear voices happily chattering and shouting in the back of the kitchen and wondered what language the employees were speaking. It certainly wasn’t English, or even the Spanish she spoke at a rudimentary level. Over the years, Baltimore had become culturally diverse, and even a trip to a local restaurant unveiled a symphony of different languages.
“I ordered coffee and your usual omelet while you were in the restroom,” Logan said.
“Thanks.” She took a sip of the hot brew, then stared into her coffee, glad to have something to do with her fidgety hands. He remembered her favorite breakfast? What else did he remember? The way their bodies craved one another, the way they couldn’t stop kissing once they’d started? Her heart skipped a beat.
He pulled out a notepad. “I made some phone calls and interviewed your dad’s neighbors again yesterday. Who’s the guy who lives in the row house to the left of your dad’s?”
“April’s boyfriend. I don’t know him. I’ve waved to him from the car a few times. I think April knows something, though. She acted funny when I talked to her.”
“She wasn’t there when I stopped by. And the boyfriend wasn’t in the mood to talk. Just mumbled about the owner not being home and shut the door.”
Keely glanced at Logan. He’d probably only had a few hours sleep after his shift, but only his bloodshot eyes showed signs of fatigue. He used to keep his hair short in a buzz cut, but he’d let it grow out. A good look. A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead and she resisted the urge to reach out and brush it to the side. She pointed to the notepad in front of him.
“What’s that? Your list of suspects?” She leaned forward to get a better look. “You still have Margaret on your list? Am I on this list?”
“You were at the courthouse,” he said.
She looked up to see if he was serious or not. Wow. If she hadn’t been in court, he’d consider her a suspect? At least she couldn’t accuse him of cutting any corners in the investigation.
He scribbled something in the notepad. “Is this the first time Ben dealt with a pregnant Thai woman?”
Keely bit her lip and thought. “Most of the women he helps are born in the US. A few have been from other countries, originally. Mexico, China, Thailand. Always US citizens, but Dad doesn’t care about their background. He helps everyone equally.”
Logan frowned and flipped to a new page.
A smile tugged at her lips. He probably had no idea his furrowed brow and the small crease in his forehead made him look so serious. And sexy. His passion for solving crime was written all over his face. What would it feel like to have that sort of passion directed at her?
“How about disgruntled adoptive parents? Anyone mad about the child they were matched with and blame him? Any moms give up their baby and regret it enough to hurt Ben?” He flipped a pen against his notepad.
“Well, he’s not involved in the actual adoptions. He just hooks up the moms with good lawyers, and helps defray any costs. He helps potential adoptive parents, too. Connects them with appropriate agencies and helps with the cost of adopting if a couple can’t afford it.”
She straightened and drew in a breath. Sitting so near him after all these years of trying to forget him was taxing her system. It didn’t help that she’d dreamed of him last night for the first time in years.
He leaned back and took a gulp of coffee, staring at her over the rim of the mug. His intense gaze bored into her, daring her to look away. She didn’t.
“We need Amy to ask the parents when they last saw Su Lin. I’ll contact the police in Los Angeles, too, but talking to the parents could yield more answers.” He continued to study the list.
Nodding, she relaxed against the chair back. “After you solve this case, you’ll leave for Texas?”
“That’s the plan.”
Her throat constricted at the finality of his words. The more time she spent around Logan, the more she remembered how good they used to be together. Problem was, they’d both changed. They weren’t those two young kids any longer. They were something more. Adults with desires—and as much as she wanted to battle it, she wanted him.
After the waitress delivered their meal, he pushed his paperwork aside. “Enough work. Let’s eat.”
As a kid, Keely’s heroin-addicted biological mother hardly ever remembered to feed her. After she had been adopted by Lillian and Ben, she loved sharing meals together. Mealtimes with her mom and dad were among her favorite memories. Her dad’s words edged to the front of her mind. What had he wanted to tell her about Logan? She squinted at him, trying to figure out what her dad might say and why he felt it was so important for her to know.
Maybe her dad could tell she still had feelings for Logan and wanted to warn her that he had a girlfriend? The thought made her suddenly sick to her stomach. She pushed the omelet away.
“What? Keely Allen leaving food on her plate?” Logan cocked his head and forked a piece of her omelet for himself as though they were a couple. Suddenly he frowned and took a long drag of coffee.
She snickered. “Did you forget you hate vegetables?”
He shuddered. “I was blinded by the cheese. So you still don’t eat meat?”
“Don’t like it.” She
shrugged.
He leaned forward on his elbows, gazing across the suddenly too narrow table. His brown eyes became browner as the light reflected off the dark crimson tabletop. “Keely, I—”
“More coffee, hon?” the waitress asked, already tipping the pot with one hand and pulling some creamers out of her apron with the other. Keely shifted in her seat and her knees touched Logan’s. Her leg felt like a red hot poker. She moved again, away from his legs.
Logan nodded at the server. “Thanks.”
Keely had no idea what he’d been about to say, but the way he’d leaned forward, focused on her…she had a feeling they weren’t talking about her vegetarian diet any longer.
Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her jeans pocket. “It’s my dad.” She answered the phone, eager to hear his voice.
“Margaret wanted me to call and let you know she can stay with me for as long as you need to be away, and that you shouldn’t hurry,” Ben said.
“Logan and I are heading to Amy Bittinger’s,” she said. “We want to see if she can help us speak to Su Lin’s parents. Then Logan’s helping me with one of my other cases. I’ll be there by dinner time, though. Love you.”
“Love you too, darlin’. Although I don’t know why you gals keep hovering.” He clicked off.
She hung up, smiling, then grabbed her purse and pulled out a twenty.
“I’ve got it.” Logan’s warm hand covered hers. Heat radiated along her hand and up her arm, and seared into her heart, making her want. Him. This.
Them.
Damn. She was a glutton for punishment. She wanted what she never would let herself have.
…
Keely and Logan exited the SUV and walked up the brick path to Amy and Craig Bittinger’s brownstone. The dark circles under Logan’s eyes stood out against his tanned skin. She should send him home to rest. He was working too hard. After ringing the bell, she was just about to tell him so when a small hand moved the front window curtain.
She focused on the tiny hand, remembering three-year-old George Padilla and the timid way he’d spotted them yesterday. Was he happy now, at his new foster home? And where was his sister, Melita?
