Had she ultimately decided to be upset over what had happened between them? If she did, he needed to know so that he could find a way to fix it, to make her understand that it hadn’t been just a casual night of sex for him. It had meant something.
And he wanted it to mean something to her.
“Yes, I’m all right,” she told him, then asked, “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Well...” He looked around again to assure himself they wouldn’t be overheard, then went on to say in a barely audible voice, “after two people make love, they usually open up a little to each other, not shut down completely like a rusty trap. So I just wanted to know if you’re all right with what happened— Or if you’re upset,” he tagged on, watching her carefully for any telltale clues that gave him an answer to his question.
Ashley drew in a breath, then released it softly as she shrugged. “I guess I’m just waiting for the crash.”
He was doing his best to read between the lines, but found that right now, the lines had been deliberately redacted, leaving him completely in the dark.
“The crash?”
She nodded. “The crash.” Judging by his expression, what she was saying was obviously no clearer to him now than the first time, so she elaborated. “The bubble to burst. Cinderella to wake up. Judy Holliday to sing, ‘The Party’s Over.’ You know, that kind of thing.”
She was telling him in her own unique way that pessimism was creeping in. Not that he could really blame her. He was a little leery himself, especially after what he’d been through with Kitty. But as long as it meant that he could go on hanging on to this exhilarating feeling, he was willing to give it his all.
“Bubbles don’t always burst, nothing needs to crash, and what if Cinderella wasn’t asleep? She can’t wake up if she’s not sleeping,” he pointed out. “And who the hell is Judy Holliday?”
“A movie star from the fifties. The song’s from a 1956 musical, The Bells Are—”
“Stop,” he pleaded, holding up his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t you just enjoy what’s happening, and with any luck, it’ll continue?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” He wanted to know.
There was a very good reason for her to distrust what seemed to be happening. “Well, for one thing, because I’ve never been happy before,” she admitted.
Ashley’s simple admission stunned him. “Never?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Never,” she repeated. “The best I’ve ever been is not unhappy.”
Life, he thought, had so much to make up for to her. And he fully intended to lead the way—if she’d only let him. But right now, she needed to stop over-thinking everything. Otherwise, what was between them might not have a chance to grow. She’d wind up stifling it.
“Tell you what. Let’s concentrate on the case and let the other thing take care of itself. It might surprise you,” he quipped.
And it might not, she couldn’t help thinking.
But in any event, Shane was right. The case came first. Everything else right now was just incidental. “I can’t shake the feeling that the key to this whole thing is the baby.”
He tended to agree, but he wanted to hear her thoughts on the matter. “Go on,” he said encouragingly.
She’d been giving this a lot of thought. “Monica wasn’t killed because someone wanted to get rid of her, she was killed because someone wanted her baby and she was in the way, so to speak. From what we know, it had to be someone with more than just passing knowledge of how to perform a C-section. I think we’re looking for either a doctor or a nurse. Probably a nurse.” She saw the skeptical look on his face. “You don’t agree?”
“No, it’s not that. But what if it’s a guy doing it for his wife or girlfriend? Say she just lost a baby and is going off the deep end. He might have been trying to get her a substitute, saw Monica and felt like his prayers were answered.”
Ashley nodded. She could see his take on it. “You’ve got a valid point. But it would still have to be someone Monica knew. That surveillance tape we have shows her letting the person into her apartment without any hesitation. If it was a stranger, she wouldn’t have thrown open her door that way.”
They agreed on that. It had to be someone Monica had recognized. “Well, since it doesn’t look as if she had any kind of social life except for work, let’s go back and talk to the boutique owner to see if maybe there’s something we’ve missed,” he suggested. He was getting restless, sitting here like this, just a few feet away from her and doing absolutely nothing about it. A little fresh air might do him good.
With no other options currently available, it sounded like going back to where the woman worked was their only available avenue of pursuit.
“Sure,” she said, getting her purse out of the drawer. “Let’s go.”
* * *
When they arrived at the baby boutique some twenty minutes later, they were surprised to find the shop closed for business. Instead, the owner, the sales clerks and a number of people, some of whom they’d interviewed and recognized to be Monica’s clients, were holding a small vigil. It was intended for Monica, to pay their final respects to the slain woman.
“What’s going on?” Shane asked the owner as he and Ashley wove their way through more than a couple dozen people.
Abigail looked around at the crowded store and smiled sadly. “They all wanted to say goodbye to Monica. This was the next best thing,” she told him. “By the way, I’m glad you’re here,” the woman said to them.
“How’s that?” Shane asked, fully expecting to hear the woman say something about this proving that the police department had a heart.
Instead, Abigail Reynolds was glad they were there for a very practical reason. “The other day, when I gave you that list of Monica’s customers, I somehow left one off,” she confessed. “It’s like the woman just fell through the cracks.” As she spoke, she shook her head. “I don’t know how I missed giving you this woman’s name,” she said. “She was Monica’s exclusively. Monica was the only one in the store who could wait on her.”
“Was that by request?” Ashley interjected.
Abigail accompanied her answer with a shrug. “That and the woman was so weird, she had a tendency to creep the other girls out. Only Monica was patient with her. She told me she felt sorry for the woman. According to what the woman told Monica, she’d gotten fired from her job and now was having trouble supporting herself and her children.
“You ask me, she couldn’t have been having that much trouble,” the woman commented. “The items she bought from us weren’t cheap. But Monica has—had—” Abigail corrected herself “—a big heart. She even took the woman to lunch a couple of times. Oh God, I’m going to miss her.”
“Would you happen to know what sort of job this woman was fired from?” Shane asked. He had a gut feeing about this. He didn’t get them often, but when he did he was seldom wrong, and something told him they were on to something here.
“I think Monica said she was a nurse, or somebody who worked in the hospital.” The owner shrugged, dismissing the other woman’s story as fabrication. “Personally, I think she made it all up to get Monica’s sympathy.”
Shane’s interest was totally piqued. “Do you have an address for this woman?”
The owner nodded. “Absolutely. We just delivered another crib to her house the week before Monica—” She couldn’t get herself to complete the sentence. Instead she explained why she hadn’t turned the woman’s name over with the others when they were here the last time. “Her name and order form got mixed in with Sondra’s clients,” she said, referring to another saleswoman. “That’s how I missed it last time,” she admitted. “You wait right here. I’ll get it for you.”
“Think this could be it?” Ashley asked as the owner hurried off.
“God, but I hope so,” he answered. For now, he said nothing about his gut feeling.
Abigail was back in a couple of minutes, holding out the page she’d just printed for them. Shane took it from her.
“I would have thought she’d be here,” the owner said, referring to the client. “It’s no secret that we were going to be holding a vigil for Monica. The girls sent out emails to all the clients.” Her lips twisted in a sad smile. “It seems ironic that it’s the same day that we were going to have Monica’s baby shower.” She shook her head, her eyes beginning to glisten. “She would have made such a wonderful mother,” she said softly.
“I’m sure she would have,” Shane replied with compassion.
“Detectives,” Abigail began, addressing them both. “Is anyone claiming her body? The reason I ask is that I know she and her father didn’t get along, and she’d said that he wanted nothing to do with her. So if he’s washed his hands of her, I’d like to give her a decent burial—unless there’s some rule against it.”
“No rule,” Shane told her. “I’ll leave word for the coroner to release the body to you.”
“Thank you,” Abigail said sincerely.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied. Shane glanced at the address on the sheet she’d handed him before folding the paper and putting it into his pocket. “Let’s go check this out,” he said to Ashley. “I think it’s about time we got lucky.”
* * *
The address the boutique owner had given them took them to a residential area on the very outskirts of Aurora. Had it been located one block over, they would have officially found themselves in the neighboring town.
Unlike the other houses that populated the tree-lined block, the house where Monica’s former customer lived was rundown in appearance. The garden was overgrown with weeds, and the building itself was sagging in places and in dire need of a new coat of paint all over. The facade was such that it fairly screamed of a termite infestation. The area just beneath the eaves was especially bad. It was obvious that the insects were still currently feasting in that section.
The person who owned the house was either unable to raise the funds to undertake repairs, or was completely oblivious to the condition of the house.
Shane had a feeling it was the latter.
“Looks like a house for a grade B horror movie,” Ashley commented.
That impression was further reinforced by the appearance of a hole on the top step. The wood had obviously rotted through and given way when someone had made a misstep. Ashley took care to avoid it.
“At least the doorbell works,” Shane observed when he pushed it and it chimed.
No one came to answer.
There was a car parked in the driveway, so he tried again. After a third attempt with no response, he tried the doorknob. To his surprise, Shane found that it was unlocked.
Glancing at Ashley, he asked, “You hear that? Sounds like someone yelling for help, doesn’t it?” he said to her.
She knew what he was doing. They needed a plausible excuse to enter the premises. If the kidnapped infant was there, they were running out of time. Ashley played along.
“Sounds like that to me,” she agreed.
Turning the doorknob, he opened the door at the same time that he carefully drew out his service revolver. If Monica’s customer was their suspect, there was no point taking unnecessary chances. The person had already killed once that they knew of.
Ashley took out her own weapon. She’d only used it on the firing range, and the very feel of it in her hand under these circumstances felt strange. The weapon seemed oddly heavy to her.
They inched their way along through the eerily darkened hallway. Sunlight, so bright outside today, had not been invited into this place.
The entire house seemed as if it was built around menacing shadows.
There were a total of four rooms downstairs, each empty. By the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, Shane thought he heard noises coming from upstairs.
“Sounds like a woman singing,” he whispered to Ashley.
“The store owner said that the woman had children, young ones who needed cribs,” she recalled. “Maybe she’s singing to one of them, trying to get him or her to go to sleep.”
Shane nodded. It seemed as good an explanation as any for now. He motioned for Ashley to follow behind him up the stairs. He didn’t want to take a chance on her getting hurt.
He went up the stained, carpeted stairs slowly. Despite the carpet, he was afraid they might creak and he wanted to take no chances on alerting the woman they’d come to see—just in case.
Despite the care he was taking, one of the steps squeaked. He stopped, waited, and then proceeded when no called out to ask if anyone was there.
This felt like it was taking forever, Ashley thought. She could feel the muscles in her legs almost cramping up as they tightened in anticipation.
“This is going to be some letdown if we find out that it’s nothing,” she whispered.
Shane made no answer, but he was thinking the same thing.
He paused at the top of the landing, waiting for Ashley to catch up. Half a dozen scenarios played themselves out in his head before he went forward, prepared, he hoped, for anything.
Following the off-key singing, he made his way to what turned out to be the nursery.
The door was open, and when he looked in, he saw a matronly woman sitting in a rocking chair, swaying back and forth as she sang a tuneless refrain over and over again.
She was holding an infant in her arms.
An extremely thin, tiny human being who, by all appearances, had lost the strength to cry above a pathetic whimper.
Seeing the infant made him think of a rag doll.
As if sensing she wasn’t alone, the woman in the rocking chair looked up.
Her first reaction wasn’t surprise or fear. It was anger.
“What are you doing here?” the gray-haired woman demanded in a pseudo-whisper. “Go, leave. You’ll wake the baby,” she said accusingly.
“Ms. Wakefield,” Shane began, addressing her respectfully, “we’re with the Aurora police department, and we have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
Her deep-set brown eyes narrowed even further as she glared at first one, then the other of her uninvited visitors. “No,” she answered in a voice that was firm and no longer whispering.
The infant in her arms began to whimper, but still there was no cry. The sound was just barely audible. “You’re upsetting my baby,” Tessie accused angrily. “Now you get out of here before you make her start crying again.”
One look at the infant and Ashley knew the baby needed medical attention. Somehow they had to separate it from the woman who was clutching the infant to her chest.
She was certain that this had to be the tiny human being who had been ripped out of her mother’s womb by this heartless monster. If there was any further need for proof, it was obvious that the woman who was holding the baby was way too old to be the baby’s mother.
Given this woman had so recklessly taken the infant without any regard for either life that had been so cruelly affected, Ashley knew she would have to be treated with kid gloves.
“What a beautiful baby you have,” Ashley told the woman, moving forward in tiny, almost imperceptible increments. “I’d love to hold her,” she said softly. Her eyes were on the woman’s, doing her best to communicate with her, to form some sort of a bond. “Would you let me hold your baby? Just for a moment,” she requested with all the sincerity she could manage. “You know, I had a baby just like yours once, but she died.”
As she talked, she concentrated exclusively on the older woman. She didn’t notice the look on Shane’s face, or the way he was watching her.
“No one can understand what a huge heartache
that is, losing an infant, investing a little being with all the love you have in you only to have that baby die, taking its promise with her.”
With every word, she drew a little closer to the woman and the baby she was holding until she was almost within arm’s length of them.
As if suddenly realizing what was happening, Tessie Wakefield rose to her feet, one arm tightening around the whimpering infant. Her expression belonged to a woman who was dangerously unhinged.
She looked capable of anything.
“Get back!” Tessie ordered, her eyes darting back and forth between the two people approaching her from opposite sides.
As she held the infant to her with one hand, the other dipped beneath the shawl that she had draped around her shoulders and partially around the infant.
“I said get out of here!” she repeated then, no longer mindful of the baby, screamed, “Now!”
To underscore her order, she pulled out a knife and held it to the baby’s throat.
“Get out, or I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her before I let you take my baby from me!”
Chapter 18
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Tessie. I’m backing away,” Ashley told the woman in as calm a voice as she could manage, given the circumstances. She’d raised her hands in a sign of surrender. “But all I wanted to do was hold her. You can’t blame me for that. Your little girl’s so pretty, she makes my heart ache.”
Suddenly appearing to realize that she’d been focused almost exclusively on the approaching woman, Tessie looked around, still keeping the knife hovering menacingly by the infant’s throat.
“Where is he? Where’s the other one?”
“Right behind you,” Shane said in a low, steely voice. While Ashley had distracted the woman by talking to her, he had managed to inch his way slowly until he was partially behind her.
Startled, Tessie swung around to get him in view. At the exact same moment—as if they had coordinated this and practiced it to perfection rather than spontaneously reacting in complete concert with one another—Ashley grabbed hold of the baby while Shane pulled back his doubled-up fist and punched the kidnapper right in her chin. Dazed from the suddenness of the blow, Tessie dropped the knife and crumpled to the floor, but not before somehow managing to drive the blade briefly into Ashley’s shoulder.
Mission: Cavanaugh Baby Page 19
