Colton's Dangerous Liaison

by Regan Black

  “Maybe we’ve gone at this the wrong way,” Troy said quietly as they paused on the walk.

  Behind them, Antonio snorted. She wished the man was anywhere else right now. Recent compliments aside, he got under her skin, whether he was voicing his opinion or keeping it to himself. So far he hadn’t recognized anyone’s build or seen a similarity in their movements, and he sure wasn’t behaving as if he noticed her efforts to give him a chance.

  She knew he wasn’t pleased with how GGPD handled his statement about Drew Orr being involved, but she couldn’t just toss one man in jail on the word of another. The system wasn’t perfect, but it was in place for a reason. Evidence had to back up theory or it would be chaos.

  “Want me to get another team started with questions to cover more ground?”

  She heard the urgency in his voice and was so tempted to agree. “No,” she said after thinking it through. “I’ll worry about missing something. And Mr. Ruiz can’t be in two places at once.” She didn’t make a habit of micromanaging her detectives and the investigation had led directly to Everleigh, supported by the evidence reports.

  “That’s true,” Antonio said.

  His deep voice rolled over her. In another time and in a better context that voice might make her shiver with anticipation.

  Right now, she could barely tolerate him. She sensed his frustration with her methodical approach, yet he’d been the one to forcefully offer his assistance and supposed expertise. His improving opinion of her as a cop shouldn’t matter, couldn’t impair her own assessment of the situation. He hadn’t been pleased with anything about the GGPD for months now. She could practically feel him looking for a chance to contradict or challenge her every decision.

  Ignoring his presence as much as possible was her best option until they found Danny. Then she could address his lingering frustration with her, her work and her department.

  “We can’t abandon a plan because it takes time to execute,” she said, reinforcing that fact for her sake as much as for his. “We planned this search in a logical manner. Based on the timing and the tone of the ransom message, the kidnapper doesn’t want to hurt Danny.”

  “You’re assuming a female kidnapper will nurture the boy and keep him safe?” Antonio asked.

  More like she was praying, but wouldn’t admit it to a civilian. “I’m not assuming anything,” she stated. “I am working a case with one of my best detectives. If you’re not happy tagging along, you’re welcome to walk back to the hotel.”

  “Wouldn’t be much of a walk,” he said. “Any one of those media outlets would give me a lift.”

  He was right. Several cars had parked behind Troy on the street. Melissa turned to the porch of the sweet craftsman cottage. It felt a mile away from where they stood, though it was only a few yards. By now word had surely traveled through the family that the GGPD was convinced a relative or friend of Everleigh’s had taken Danny, so any element of surprise would be gone. That didn’t bother Melissa. All she needed was a clue. One lead or reasonable cause and she could bring in Ember and search until she found her favorite cousin.

  Amie McPherson, Everleigh’s mother, was waiting on the porch when Melissa, Troy and Antonio reached the stairs. Amie had a medical boot on her right foot. If it was real, Melissa didn’t need Antonio to tell her that she couldn’t be the woman involved. Unless she had taken it off for the duration of the kidnapping. The only way to find out was to start the interview.

  “I know why you’re here,” Amie said, dabbing a tissue to the corners of her eyes. “I don’t have that little boy.”

  “We understand,” Troy said. “Are you here alone?”

  “For the moment,” she stated.

  “We just have a few questions,” Melissa explained. “Would you be more comfortable inside?”

  Mrs. McPherson glanced to the media clogging up the sidewalk. “Fine.”

  “How did you hurt your foot?” Melissa asked as the three of them followed the woman into the house.

  “I tripped over the cat and twisted my ankle,” Amie said glumly. “Two weeks to go in this contraption.”

  “Do you have the doctor’s report?” Troy asked.

  At the woman’s indignant gasp, Melissa intervened. “It feels intrusive, but it would speed things along,” Melissa said.

  Mrs. McPherson muttered under her breath. She flipped on the light over the dining-room table. Thankfully their conversation would be blocked from view by the drawn curtains over the front window. “Wait here. The physical-therapy instructions are on the refrigerator—will that be sufficient?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Troy said. He followed, keeping an eye on her, then she returned and they all sat down.

  “Mrs. McPherson, we have a photo of the person who did take the baby,” Melissa began. Just because Everleigh’s mother wasn’t the woman under that hat didn’t mean she wasn’t involved somehow. Melissa imagined it would be torture for a parent to have a child accused of such a violent crime.

  Troy showed Mrs. McPherson the picture while Melissa continued. “The only ransom demand for the return of the little boy is for the police to exonerate your daughter.” Melissa steered the questions, much as she had with Everleigh’s friends and aunts. “Could you please tell me where you’ve been this evening since five o’clock?”

  “Here. My husband and I did the grocery shopping this morning.” She sniffled. “I put a stew together when we got back and we sat down to eat around six. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “Please take another look. Do you have any idea who this is?” Troy slid his phone closer, urging her to take a good look at the image on the screen. “Do you recognize anything about the outfit?”

  Melissa gave the woman credit for studying the picture. Beside her, she could sense Antonio taking in the details of the woman and the home. She wondered what he was thinking now.

  “No. I don’t recognize anything or anyone,” Mrs. McPherson said.

  “Where is your husband?” Melissa asked.

  “Andrew went out to watch the hockey game with his friends.”

  When Melissa asked for the information, Amie provided the name, address and phone number.

  “On it,” Troy said. He stepped away from the table to make the calls to confirm Amie’s story.

  “Do you have any idea why someone would do something so drastic to help your daughter?”

  To Melissa’s dismay, Mrs. McPherson broke down crying. “I’m s-so sorry,” she stuttered through the sniffles. “So, so sorry.”

  Melissa’s instincts went on high alert. “Why are you sorry?”

  “For my daughter. The family. His, too. I—I can’t believe she killed Fritz. She is such a good person. Big heart. Gentle.” She lifted her gaze to Melissa, her eyes red and swimming with tears. “I didn’t want to believe it. But she must have done it.” Her gaze darted between Melissa and Antonio. “Her attorney told me they have her DNA on the murder weapon.” She cried into her tissue for another few seconds. “Her DNA,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Why did my sweet girl snap and smash her husband over the head with that paperweight? I didn’t want to believe it, but the facts...” Whatever else she wanted to say was lost in another crying jag.

  Melissa sympathized with the overwhelming grief of a disillusioned parent unable to comprehend a child’s actions. Amie McPherson was conflicted and emotionally distraught because she was sure her daughter was guilty.

  Standing, she extended a business card to Mrs. McPherson. “If you hear anything about the kidnapping or the people involved, please give me a call.” She stopped just short of apologizing.

  Out on the porch, they joined Troy. “Husband is with the guys. They say he arrived just before seven. I sent a patrol car to verify. Based on the physical description and the pictures on the dining room wall, no way that man packed himself into the blue dress we saw.”


  “You’re grasping at straws now,” Antonio muttered on the way to the car.

  “Hush,” Melissa ordered. She didn’t want any of the reporters hovering nearby to pick up any dissent between the three of them.

  Once they were in the vehicle, though, Antonio started in again. “That poor woman. Her faith in your system has torn apart her family,” he said.

  “Save it,” Troy barked. “We work within the system, or it’s chaos. We build a case from evidence and facts, like Mrs. McPherson said.”

  “After everything we’ve heard so far, you still think Everleigh’s a killer?” Antonio persisted. “You’re convinced everyone who knows her well must be wrong because the evidence is king.”

  “Stop,” Melissa ordered. “Arguing gets us no closer to Danny. And besides, her mother apparently does believe her to be guilty.” She twisted in her seat to glare at Antonio. “If you can’t be helpful, you can’t stay.”

  “You need me,” he grumbled.

  “Doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you making matters worse.” Melissa took a breath as he quieted, then indicated Troy should head for the next name on their list, Hannah McPherson, Everleigh’s grandmother.

  The woman was in her eighties, but they couldn’t leave any stone unturned. They were running out of people with enough motive to carry out this stunt. Melissa had been so sure they’d have found Danny by now.

  In the quiet of the car, her thoughts raced. Antonio made a valid point about Everleigh’s friends and family. No one they’d spoken with this evening credited the rumors of her cheating on her husband and no one believed her capable of taking a life.

  But the most pertinent question was, who among her friends or relatives might be capable of taking a baby away from his mother? Who could justify causing a mother that much pain? She understood parenthood was a rollercoaster, but this was a low point no one could anticipate. And still, she longed for a family of her own someday. Melissa promised herself that no matter when they found Danny, she would revisit the evidence in the Emerson murder case.

  Hannah McPherson lived just over a mile from her son and daughter-in-law and her two-story home was in excellent condition. The walk and steps were clear of snow and the brass light fixtures flanking the front door gleamed. If she handled the maintenance on her own, Melissa and Troy had probably underestimated the widowed grandmother.

  “Good evening, Chief,” Hannah said when she answered the door. “I just put on a pot of coffee.”

  Melissa introduced Troy and Antonio. “You were expecting us?”

  “Of course.” She gave a nod to the media circus arriving on cue. “News travels fast in a town this size. And, of course, the girls called.”

  Melissa assumed “the girls” referred to Everleigh’s mother and her aunts. According to the profile, Hannah was eighty, but she looked much younger in slim jeans and a bulky wool sweater. Her short cap of silver hair framed her face, and behind rimless glasses, her gaze was polite and curious. Not the least bit wary.

  “Come in out of the cold,” Hannah said. She led them inside and back to a cozy den off the kitchen. A fire was going strong in the fireplace and the television mounted over the mantel was tuned to the news, the volume muted. “Would anyone like coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” Troy said for all of them. “We have a few questions and we can be out of your hair.”

  “Of course. I can’t imagine how that poor mother is coping. So dreadful.”

  Hannah settled into what was surely her favorite chair. Troy took the chair closest to her. Antonio and Melissa were stuck with a love seat on the other side of the coffee table. The cushions sagged toward the center and her thigh rubbed against his from knee to hip. Heat flashed through her system. Again, in different circumstances she might enjoy being close to him.

  Apparently oblivious to her internal struggle, Troy extended his phone, sharing the picture of the woman in the blue dress and large hat.

  Melissa was watching her face for any reaction when Antonio bumped her knee with his own. “It’s her,” he said as he cleared his throat to cover his words. “I can tell from the way she walked inside just now.”

  Melissa struggled to accept the revelation, even as Antonio smiled genially when Hannah looked his way as if they were lifelong friends, here to catch up over a plate of lemon bars.

  While she answered questions about her whereabouts and her granddaughter’s case, Hannah’s gaze darted again and again to a dark doorway. That small tell, along with Antonio’s certainty, had Melissa’s instincts prickling. Did the woman have Danny stashed in that room?

  Standing, she moved straight for the doorway, braced for anything. She pushed through the door and found herself in a small room. She turned on the light and looked around.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah called after her. “We built that for my husband’s hip replacement, rest his soul. These days, I use it when my knees are too sore to get up the stairs at night.”

  The small bedroom was empty right now, the twin bed neatly made and covered with a beautiful quilt. Melissa checked the big armoire and under the bed, but Danny wasn’t here. Discouraged, nearly defeated, she turned around and saw a navy blue dress and spectator hat hanging on the hook on the back of the door. She drew her weapon while she was still out of sight and kept it low as she returned to the den.

  “Troy,” she said, “cuff her.”

  Hannah’s eyes went round. “What is this?”

  Troy was already in motion, snapping handcuffs over the woman’s wrists with care.

  Melissa called for backup and then turned back to Hannah, summoning every ounce of self-control. “What have you done with Danny Colton?”

  “This is outrageous.” Hannah’s eyes started to tear up. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

  “Keep an eye on her, Troy,” Melissa ordered. “I’ll start the search.”

  “Wait, please,” Hannah begged, interrupting Troy. “The boy is safe, just listen to me. Let me explain. Please.”

  With her weapon trained on the elderly woman, Melissa paused. “Where is he?”

  “This isn’t necessary.” Hannah raised her cuffed hands. “I’ll cooperate. The boy is perfectly fine. He’s a lamb. I’d never hurt a child.”

  Troy finished reading Hannah her rights, then Melissa demanded again, “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs, first bedroom on the left.”

  Antonio leaped up from the small sofa and rushed out before Melissa could move. Damn it, he might inadvertently contaminate the scene. She hurried after him, leaving Hannah to Troy.

  “I never would’ve let anything happen to the boy,” Hannah insisted, her voice carrying through the house. “He was tuckered out,” she continued, digging a deeper hole for herself. “He fell asleep watching Tom and Jerry cartoons.”

  Melissa felt the space between every heartbeat when she reached the staircase and saw Antonio at the top, his arms full of her little cousin. She returned her weapon to the holster, relief coursing through her. The pressure in her chest eased as Antonio started down the steps. Her arms trembled as she waited to hold the little boy again.

  “Got him,” he said quietly. Danny was tucked up against his shoulder as if Antonio held children all the time. “Sound asleep.” Tenderly, he transferred the sleeping toddler to her.

  * * *

  Tears of gratitude blurred her vision for a moment as she held her cousin, smelled his sweet curly hair. Her hand rose and fell with his steady breaths. “Thank you.” When she looked up, Antonio’s normally confident, self-possessed expression was gone. His dark eyes were haunted as he stared at the baby. Then he turned and walked away, and Melissa was once again trailing in his wake.

  “I had to do it,” Hannah said, her voice firm. Troy’s phone was out and Melissa saw that he was recording the conversation. “I had to do it to get your attention. Everleigh di
dn’t murder her awful husband. She would never hurt a mosquito.”

  “I suggest you stop talking,” Melissa said, simply as a matter of form. Troy had already read Hannah her rights.

  “I’ll testify that the detective read her her rights,” Antonio said. “That is, if you need me.”

  Support from the man that had been a thorn in her side all night was the last thing she expected. With a nod of thanks, she gave her full attention to Danny. The little guy seemed to be in perfect health. “I’ll call Desiree while we wait for the CSI team.”

  It was over. Danny was safe and would be reunited with Desiree within the hour. But as Melissa cuddled him close, it didn’t feel over. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was still to come.

  * * *

  Antonio surreptitiously checked his hands, expecting to find them shaking, but they were still. So the trembling was only on the inside. That didn’t make him feel much better. He kept his gaze away from Melissa and the toddler while she spoke with the boy’s mother and listened along with Troy as Mrs. McPherson poured out all of the details and reasoning.

  When he’d found the little guy tucked into the bed, his heart had threatened to crack in his chest. Antonio didn’t do kids or family. Fate had crushed those dreams twenty years ago. And yet the sight of Melissa holding the toddler in her arms stirred up emotions he had no intention of facing again.

  He walked out, aiming for the front door, half tempted to call the hotel car service to come pick him up. The flashing lights of the police responding to the scene and the slew of reporters kept him rooted in place. He’d come along to help and he would see it through.

  Besides, this chaos was nothing compared to the night his pregnant wife and their unborn baby had died. He didn’t have any stake in this, no real ties to the people most affected, so it shouldn’t be this hard to distance himself.