L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent

by Style, Linda

  Adam pulled out the letter he’d received from Corita Sullivan. “Is this her letter?”

  She nodded. “I forgot to do it right away.”

  That was why the LAPD only received it a couple of weeks ago.

  “Something bad has happened to Corita’s man. I know it. Because after he left, some men came here looking for him. Men with guns.”

  “Police?”

  “No. Manolo’s men. Drug traffickers.”

  Just as he’d thought. Anyone who worked narcotics knew of Miguel Manolo—the man who’d emerged as the new head honcho of the largest drug cartel in Central America. He was elusive…a ghost. No one had been able to take him down.

  “If those men find Corita’s man…” the woman added, then ran a finger across her throat.

  The same men they’d just encountered. Manolo’s men seemed to be one step ahead of Adam and Jillian. Which didn’t bode well for Sullivan…or them if they encountered the men again.

  Just then, Jillian came around the corner, her expression somber. Thinking quickly, he asked the woman to take the shoe box back inside while he spoke to Mrs. Sullivan. He couldn’t tell Jillian everything, not until he sorted out what he needed to do.

  He had to know for sure whether Jack Sullivan was dead or alive, and he couldn’t take the chance that she’d do something to screw things up. Not when he was so close.

  “Hey,” he said. “How’d it go?”

  Jillian gave him a look he couldn’t read. Just then, the other woman came out of the shack with a piece of paper. She handed it to Adam.

  He glanced down. It was a telephone number. No name, no other identifiers. But he recognized that it was a U.S. connection with a familiar area code. A Chicago area code.

  Jillian moved closer and glanced at the note. Her eyes went wide. She snatched it from his hand and stared. “This is my motherin-law’s old phone number! What’s going on, Adam?”

  Her motherin-law’s number? Man, oh, man. It was just the evidence he needed to prove Jack Sullivan and Jillian’s husband were one and the same. It might not be conclusive in court, but it sure as hell was as far as he was concerned.

  But what could he tell Jillian? What should he tell her? He couldn’t say that her husband had Manolo’s thugs gunning for him and who knows what had happened to him. He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “Then ask her where she got it.” Jillian’s hands fisted at her sides.

  “Maybe you should sit down.”

  She visibly stiffened. “I don’t want to sit. I’ve just spent the past fifteen minutes with a child who’s been shunted around for most of his life.” Her voice trembled with quiet intensity. “He barely seems to remember his parents, and the woman he’s staying with is a prostitute who doesn’t want him. He’s dirty and hungry and the saddest little boy I’ve ever seen.”

  She paused for a breath, then said more softly, “And his eyes are exactly like my husb—” Her voice cracked and she looked away, but not before he saw her tears.

  “Which means Rob is still alive,” she whispered, then closed her eyes. When she pulled herself together enough to look at him, she said, “Rob is Chloe’s father, Adam. I need to know what’s going on.”

  His mouth and throat went dry as chalk. She had a right to know. And judging by how she’d held up so far, she could handle it. “Okay,” he said, then took her hand and led her away from the house and toward the car.

  He physically placed her against the vehicle’s door and then leaned close to talk. He’d never been good at telling people bad news. “I don’t want to—”

  “Just tell me, Adam. Please. Whatever it is, just tell me!”

  He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The woman told me the boy’s father was here, but he had to leave on business. He told her he’d be back for his son within two weeks, but it’s been more than that now and she doesn’t think he’ll be coming at all. She thinks something bad happened to him because men with guns came looking for him and he never returned.”

  “Men with guns? Like the bandits we saw earlier?”

  Adam nodded. “They’re Miguel Manolo’s men.”

  She stared at him for a second. Shook her head. “But what—”

  “Manolo’s a drug kingpin, the head of the largest, most invasive drug cartel in Central America, and his men were here looking for Jack Sullivan. Before Corita Sullivan died, she gave her friend that phone number in case her husband didn’t return.”

  Stunned silence was the response. Finally she managed to say, “But that number is old. Harriet doesn’t live there now.”

  He reached out and took her hands in his. The implications were obvious. Jack Sullivan had given Corita the number some time ago—before Harriet moved to Meadow Brook.

  The look on Jillian’s face broke Adam’s heart. He said, “Someone impersonating your husband would probably have all that information, even his mother’s number. Maybe he gave the number to his wife just to back up his story. After all, he knew everything else. And remember, if he also looks exactly the same, it would be natural for the boy to resemble him, too.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Adam, but I think we both know the truth. The man we’re looking for is my husband. I’ve just been too stubborn and unwilling to admit it. Not to you, anyway.” She shook her head. “Drugs. I—I can’t imagine Rob ever… But if it’s true, there must be a reason for it. Something … beyond Rob’s control.”

  Even with the truth staring her in the face, she still didn’t want to believe the guy would betray her. She was that much in love with him. The thought that her devotion and loyalty were wasted on such a creep twisted Adam’s gut into knots.

  “So,” Adam managed. “Despite all that, I think we should follow our plan.” She could believe what she wanted, but she could never be sure until they had hard evidence. And knowing what that might do to her, he didn’t want her to know.

  She didn’t move. “I didn’t know we had a plan.”

  “We did. We were going to find out what we could here, go back to San José and then home. It’s a good plan.”

  “But what about … what if he comes back? What about the boy? God, Adam, the child’s been here so long without anyone who cares about him, it’s heartbreaking. He asked if I had come for him.”

  “He speaks English?”

  She nodded. “A little. His father taught him, he said.”

  “When did he last see his father?”

  “I didn’t ask. But he said his father told him he was taking him to America, but that if he didn’t come back, he’d send someone else to get him.” She looked at her feet. “He thinks that’s me. He thinks I’m here to take him home with me.”

  “So did you set him straight?”

  She shook her head. “How could I? He’s so pathetic, Adam. And he was so excited. I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him like that.”

  “But he has to know.”

  Her gaze darted about. “Look at this place. It’s a horrible environment for a child.” She stopped for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Then her eyes lit up.

  “Oh, no,” Adam said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, it won’t work.”

  She looked hurt. “You don’t even know what I have in mind. Hell, I don’t even know. I just know we can’t leave him here. That woman only kept him as a favor to a dying friend, and because she thought someone was coming for him and would pay her for the effort. If she knows that’s not the case, who knows what she’ll do?”

  “It’s not our responsibility.”

  “It’s everyone’s responsibility to help where we can.”

  Oh, man. She still wanted to save the world. “If I took responsibility for every terrible thing I came across, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else. Certainly not my job.”

  “Well, fortunately, I’m not asking you to do anything. But I don’t have a job that keeps me from helping a little boy desperately in need.”<
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  Adam winced. “Despite what you might think, I help people all the time,” he said a little more defensively than he’d wanted. Being a cop in L.A., he should be used to disparaging remarks, but hearing it from her stung in a way he hadn’t felt before. “But the plain truth is that we simply can’t help everyone.”

  “I’m sorry.” She touched his arm. “You’re right. I should’ve said I don’t have the same constraints you do.”

  “Which means?”

  “I’m going to do what I can to help him.”

  “Like?”

  “If we can’t leave him here, we have to take him with us. That’s all there is to it.”

  Even as Jillian said this, she didn’t know what they would do with the boy if they took him from here. Put him in an orphanage in San José? Would that be any better? She glanced around. Anything would be better than here.

  Adam gave her a look that said she’d lost it. He shook his head. “No way.” Then he walked back to the house and went inside.

  Several women now stood at their doors watching. One had a baby on her hip, another, two tiny children clinging to her skinny ankles. She looked no more than thirteen. There were no men around. At least, not right now.

  Remembering her conversation with Father Martinez, Jillian’s feelings crystallized. Older children, orphans, weren’t desirable for adoption and were exploited in all kinds of ways. Would that happen to Bobby now that his caretaker believed his father wouldn’t return? The thought was abhorrent.

  She couldn’t let that happen to any child.

  So they could take him with them now and figure out what to do later. Maybe Father Martinez could find a good home for him. At the very least, he might know someone who could. The child would be safe with the priest.

  Jillian walked back to the house.

  “Hi,” a small voice said.

  Jillian saw Bobby peering around the side of the structure. “Hi, Bobby. C’mon over here, I’d like you to meet a very nice man.” She smiled at the boy and held out her hand. Maybe if Adam saw the boy’s need, he wouldn’t be so reluctant.

  Bobby worked his way around the corner of the house, his bare back scraping against the rotted wood. Wearing only a tattered pair of shorts and nothing else, he looked like a small, fearful animal. His hair was the color of dark umber, his eyes a deep rich brown. He was filthy, his ribs poked out, and his knees looked like gnarled tree knots on stick-thin branches. Yet he was adorable. Sadly so.

  The boy reached up, placed his hand confidently in hers and walked with her to where Adam stood.

  Adam hunkered down on one knee. “Hello, Bobby.” He rattled off something in Spanish, and the boy nodded. Adam said something else and Bobby’s mouth curved into a wide smile—right before he ran into the house.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and eyed him suspiciously. “It was definitely about something.”

  He shrugged, looked away almost self-consciously. “I told him if he was coming with us, he better get his things and say goodbye to the woman who’s taken care of him for so long.”

  Oh, my. Her heart swelled. She threw her arms around him. “Oh, Adam. That’s wonderful. You’re wonderful!” He returned her hug.

  Standing in the circle of his arms, she realized how much she needed this. So she just remained there, excited and happy and feeling his heart go thub-thub-thub against hers.

  He was wonderful—and she knew then that she really was falling in love with him.

  No, that was wrong. She was already in love with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “I’M READY.” AT THE SOUND of the small voice, Adam and Jillian stepped apart. He looked down to see the boy standing next to him and holding a ragged stuffed animal of some kind. “Well, that was quick.” Adam ruffled his hair.

  The kid was marginally cleaner than before, still barefoot, but now dressed in a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt. The woman came down the steps, sashayed over to Adam and handed him the shoe box.

  “Can you tell her to please pack his things?” Jillian asked.

  He held up the box. “This is everything.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Now we have to figure out what to do with—” He cut himself off, remembering the boy spoke English. He inclined his head toward him.

  Adam didn’t know what Jillian had in mind when she’d insisted on bringing the boy along, but she was right. They couldn’t leave him here.

  “We can check with Father Martinez,” Jillian said, glancing from Adam to Bobby. “Maybe he’ll know what to do. He works with children all the time.”

  Adam nodded. Father Martinez had told him he’d contacted someone at the State Department in D.C. about the babies being smuggled illegally into the U.S. through the Central American corridor, and when Adam and Jillian had first arrived at the church, he’d thought they were government agents sent to help.

  There was another aspect that deserved consideration. If Bobby was with Adam, the boy’s father, if he was still alive, might come looking for his son. And if the boy was with Father Martinez, the priest could alert Adam if Sullivan showed up. All Adam had to do was sit back and wait. It couldn’t have worked any better if he’d planned it.

  And if that didn’t happen, at least the priest could find a home for the child. It occurred to Adam suddenly that he didn’t care as much about nailing Sullivan as he had before.

  Odd. For so long now, nailing Sullivan had been his personal vendetta, but somewhere along the way, the intensity of his quest had diminished. He began to recognize that it really didn’t matter who brought the guy to justice. All that mattered was that someone did.

  Adam looked at Bobby, then back at Jillian. “Okay. We don’t have a lot of room, so I’ll shove the box over and you can sit next to it, Bobby.” He handed Bobby the small duffel bag. “You can use that as a cushion.”

  The boy beamed as Adam got the rest of their bags and then chucked them into the trunk.

  “So, what’s the plan again?” Jillian asked as she leaned against the car on the opposite side. “We go to Cabacera, then Mirador and then we’ll drive back to San José?”

  “You got it.”

  “On the same roads as before?”

  “Afraid so. Is that a problem?”

  She heaved a sigh. “The rain forest is beautiful and all that, but I can’t stand to think of that ride again. I’ll be a cripple.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “And yes, I know I’m whining, and don’t you dare tell me again that I should’ve stayed in San José.”

  He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Bobby climbed into the back while Jillian pulled out the map, shook it open and laid it on the roof of the car. “Do you remember when Father Martinez mentioned there was another road that came into Cabacera?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe there’s another way to get to San José. Maybe a much longer road that bypasses the rain forest. Anything would be better than the one we took to get here. Or—” her eyes lit up “—maybe we can drive to another city close by that has an airport and we can fly back to San José and not even go to Mirador?”

  “That would be great, but first, we have a kid to deliver. After that, we’ll see what we can arrange.”

  Within minutes they were on the road again, and he mentally plotted out their course of action. Once they arrived in Cabacera, he’d contact Father Martinez, who could take the kid. Jillian’s idea about getting to San José was a good one if there was another road to a city with an airport, they could fly and save time. He wasn’t sure how he would play the rest of it, though.

  He could send her home and stay on himself to finish the job, or he could go back to L.A., attempt to get division approval and extradition papers, then return with help. But that wouldn’t happen if he didn’t find Sullivan first.

  Bobby, he noticed when he checked in the rearview mirror, had fallen asleep, despite
the bumpy ride and the roar of the engine. Jillian continued to examine the map.

  “There’s a road from Cabacera to a town called Puerto Viejo. But—” her words trailed off as she searched the map some more “—no road to San José.”

  “We’ll decide when we get to Cabacera,” he said. “It might be good to get input from someone who knows the area.”

  At that, she folded the map, stuffed it into the visor and then pulled out the Nike shoe box.

  “What’s in here?” she asked.

  “Not much, I guess.” He still had the birth certificate.

  She opened the cover, poked around, then pulled out what appeared to be a U.S. passport. “Look.”

  The woman must’ve added it to the box. He didn’t remember it being there before. “Whose is it?”

  She flipped it open. “Bobby’s. Maybe his mother got it so his father could take him out of the country.” Looking at the pages, her eyes widened. “Oh, my.” She took a deep breath and slapped it shut. Finally she turned to Adam and said, “He was born in California. He’s a U.S. citizen.”

  “So?”

  “So, that hadn’t occurred to me, and I’m surprised, that’s all.” She frowned, then stared at the information in the passport again. “Gosh, a lot of things didn’t occur to me.” She spoke quietly, talking more to herself than to him. “His father’s name is the same as Rob’s.”

  “That’s no surprise.”

  She sighed deeply. “No, I suppose it shouldn’t be. It’s just that seeing it all…so official—” she held up the passport “—and seeing the boy…”

  Adam heard the tears in her voice. He reached over and touched her hand. “Don’t think about it.”

  “I wish it was that easy. But I can’t think about anything else. It’s…all so surreal, like a dream, and I…I’m not sure of anything anymore. Knowing that Rob is still alive should be wonderful…but the idea that he had another family, that he could have left us…” Her voice cracked. “And then there’s this sweet little boy whose eyes are…”

  He squeezed her hand again. “Don’t start second-guessing, Jillian. Once we get to Cabacera, Father Martinez will find a place for the boy to stay, and you can go home and get your life back to normal again.”