by Style, Linda
No kidding. He had to wonder, too. What act of God had made Macy Capshaw leave her father’s firm?
“She also does a lot of child advocacy.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
He said his thanks and hung up, but couldn’t stop thinking about what Suz had said. He’d thought he had the attorney figured out, but maybe not.
Maybe she had strong feelings about the inequities in the justice system? Yeah, right. And if he believed that, he’d be a good candidate to buy a bridge. More likely she didn’t get her way with daddy.
But on the surface it seemed the lady had a soft spot for kids, which, instead of being in his favor, might make her even more protective of the boy in her charge. Convincing her to let him talk to the child might be harder than he’d thought.
Still…she had agreed to meet him. Why, he had no clue. Curiosity? Sympathy for the baby’s mother? It sure as hell wasn’t because she wanted to help him.
***
THE COFFEE SHOP on the mezzanine level of the Citi-Corp building was a hangout for legal types and was usually jammed to the rafters. Except on Fridays when all work seemed to end at noon. Today was no exception.
Reaching the restaurant, Macy smoothed the front of her “court suit,” a business navy, meant to impress judge and jurors with her lawyerly appearance, but with a bright red power blouse to show she wasn’t afraid of the opposition. Her skirt was long enough to be professional, but short enough to show off her legs. The shoes, four-inch stilettos, her ode to being the rebel she’d always longed to be. Growing up in the staid Capshaw/Delacourt family had its drawbacks. She brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes, opened the door and went inside where the rich, chicory scent of coffee permeated the air.
She saw him immediately. Couldn’t have missed him if she wanted to. Rico Santini wasn’t the only guy in the place, but standing at the counter in his jeans and black leather jacket schmoozing with the waitress whose white sweater was so tight, her black bra showed through the threads, he couldn’t be missed.
The girl laughed and then nodded toward the door.
Rico turned, acknowledging Macy with a lift of his chin. He said something to the waitress and then started toward Macy. “This okay with you?” she asked, indicating the first booth.
He smiled. Big and white. “Perfect.” He gestured to one side of the booth and waited for her to be seated.
Old-fashioned manners. Unusual, at least among the men she worked with. Most of them treated her as if she was one of the guys. Macy slid into the booth. Rico shrugged off his jacket and sat across from her facing the door. Within seconds the love-struck waitress sashayed over.
“What would you like?” The girl’s eyes were glued on the handsome man in front of her.
“I’ll have coffee,” Rico said, then motioned to Macy.
She shrugged. “Why not. I’ll be awake all night anyway.”
The waitress kept her focus on Rico until Macy cleared her throat and said, “I’ll have the same.”
“Okay. Two coffees it is.”
As the waitress walked away, Macy couldn’t help saying, “Looks like jailbait to me.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to snatch them back. Who was she to monitor this man’s flirting? But Rico didn’t seem to mind and instead of being angry, he let go with a burst of laughter.
“She is that for sure. In fact she’s the same age as one of my nieces.” One eyebrow arched sardonically. “They went to school together back East.”
Heat creeped up Macy’s neck—something that hadn’t happened since, good grief, she didn’t know when. Thanks to her father she’d learned early to hold her own in just about any encounter. She never got embarrassed. Not even in situations where she should be. So what was different today?
“Sorry. I made an assumption—and you know what they say about people who make assumptions.”
Rico laughed again, his dark gaze catching hers. “No big deal. I get that all the time.”
“Get what all the time?”
By his expression, she saw he was mildly amused. “Nothing. It’s not important.”
“Okay … So, why don’t we get to what is important. I have work to do.”
“Right to the point. I like that.” He fumbled with his jacket on the seat next to him, pulled out a small brown envelope and handed it to her. “I wanted you to see this.”
Macy pulled the tabs on the envelope to open it. But before she looked inside, she said, “You know this isn’t going to change anything, don’t you? I meant what I said earlier. I can’t let you talk to Cody. Not right now.”
He leaned back. “I understand. That’s why I thought if you saw these photos you could tell me if you thought there was any resemblance.”
“A picture? I thought the child was only hours old when he was abducted.”
“He was. The shelter where the child’s mother was staying takes photos of all the babies born there. There’s also one of the baby’s mother and father, which are probably more significant.”
Macy reached in and pulled out a picture of an infant with a full head of dark hair. She gave a quick glance. “Sorry. All babies look alike to me.” She flipped the photo over and saw the baby’s measurements on the back. And a stamp that said, #051500 Haven’s Gate.
Her breath caught. Haven’s Gate. The same shelter where she’d had her child twelve years ago. Of all the shelters in Los Angeles, what were the odds that this child would’ve been born at the same place as her son?
She studied the picture of the baby’s mother, a sweet-looking girl with brown hair and haunting green eyes, then the photo of the father, a very young man with dark hair and dark eyes. Her heart raced as she fought back the memories. She stuffed the photos in the envelope and handed it back to him. “Sorry, I can’t help.”
He sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry, too.”
The disappointment in his voice revealed how much he cared about this case. Surely he didn’t feel this way about all his cases. He was a cop and, as in her profession, a certain amount of dissociation was necessary. But hearing his emotion touched her. “Once the physicians determine the state of Cody’s health, and if his parents don’t show up, the court will order DNA tests with parents of missing children who would be of the same approximate age. I’ll see what I can do to have your case come up quickly.”
Rico tapped his fingers on the envelope, a dull hollow sound. Like the thud her heart was making in her chest. Had Haven’s Gate taken a photo of her child, too? Did they do that with stillborn babies? “It might help if the police could do a computer-aged photo of the child…”
He shook his head. “They’d need a photo of him at an older age to do it.”
She nodded.
“Will you let me know if anything changes?”
“Of course.” Macy suddenly wished she could do more.
Somewhere in the middle of their exchange, the waitress had brought coffee. Macy reached for her cup and holding it with both hands, took a sip.
“Not quite like Starbucks, is it?” Rico winked at Macy.
Her pulse quickened at the forced intimacy. “No, it’s definitely not Starbucks. And I should know. I live on the stuff.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Because you need to stay awake to work all night. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“You don’t take time off to have fun?”
“Not when I have work to do.”
“Ah, I see.”
Macy frowned. “You see what?”
“Work is a good excuse.”
“Excuse for what?”
“For not having anything better to do.”
She opened her mouth to give him a sharp retort, but nothing came out. Maybe because what he said held a kernel of truth. Actually more than a kernel. She didn’t have anything better to do. But that was her choice, and what she did with her time wasn’t any of his damned business.
“I
could help out in that area if you were interested,” he said.
A teasing glint shone in his eyes and she knew he wasn’t talking about helping her prepare briefs. Normally she’d be put off by such swagger, but Santini’s charm drew her in and she couldn’t help but smile.
While the idea held more than a little appeal, especially after a two-year relationship drought, she already knew enough about him to know he was the kind of man who’d take over your life if you let him. And she wasn’t about to go down that road again.
“Thank you for the generous offer, Detective. As much as I’d like to take you up on it, I’m going to be extremely busy.”
She paused, flicked a strand of hair away from her face and gave him a saccharine smile. “Doing my laundry.”
***
Haven’s Gate. Macy hadn’t known about the photos, and she couldn’t stop wondering if someone had taken a photo of her baby. She’d been so sedated, she’d never even seen her child.
Detective Santini hadn’t told her the specifics of his case, so maybe she should take a look at the file. If nothing else, to satisfy her curiosity.
Crap. She should’ve questioned him when she had the chance, but at the time, all she could think about was getting out of the café. She never let people unnerve her. And his comment about helping her out. What was up with that? She handled remarks like that all the time. So what was different about Rico Santini that it had unnerved her?
Then he’d let her remark about doing laundry bounce off him like a soccer ball and insisted on walking her to her car. A gentleman. A quality that only added to his appeal.
She glanced away from the work sprawled across the couch and on her lap to check the time. Eight o’clock on a Friday night and she was a lump on the couch—in her pajamas—and alone. Working on a brief that wasn’t due for weeks.
Santini was so right. Work was an excuse for having no life.
Well, what if it was? She’d had her fill of empty dating and relationships that were so-so—relationships that never had any spark. It had been years since she met a man who flipped that switch for her.
Not since Jesse. She leaned her head against the soft pillowed cushions and closed her eyes, imagining the face of the boy who’d captured her teenage heart. Jesse had set her soul afire. He’d been everything to her. And everything her father despised. If he hadn’t been killed in a car accident the night they were going to elope…
Curling a pillow into her chest, Macy still felt the loss, dulled over time, but not forgotten. Realistically, they’d probably have screwed up their lives and the life of their child by marrying so young with no resources, no skills and no family to help. Her parents had threatened to disown her if she kept the baby.
None of the boys she dated ever fit Wesley Capshaw’s standards, and she’d loved Jesse for all the reasons her father hated him. Unlike her father, Jesse had loved her — no strings attached.
And sometimes she still wondered what might have happened if Jesse hadn’t died. Would they be a happy family today? Would they still be in love?
She’d never told anyone about her stay at Haven’s Gate because her father said it would be a stain on his political aspirations. But over the years his law practice became so lucrative, he’d never gone into politics.
And to this day, no one knew about her so-called indiscretion. Not her grandparents, not her friends, though she had few of those these days, and especially not her business associates.
Now with her law firm just getting off the ground and working with children as she did, it seemed prudent to keep the past in the past. But if Santini decided to reinvestigate Haven’s Gate who knew what might come out?
She nipped at the soft skin on her bottom lip. What could it hurt to go to the station and look at the detective’s file? If there was any way to tell if Cody was the abducted child Santini hoped he was, she’d want to make sure they did all the right things in reuniting him with his parents. Right now, the poor child was disoriented, confused and undernourished. Even if Cody turned out to be the missing child in Santini’s case, telling the boy he had parents he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t recognize could be traumatic.
But if by simply looking at Santini’s case she might be able to get him to back off, it would be worth the visit.
CHAPTER THREE
SATURDAY MORNING, an hour after Macy Capshaw said she’d be at the station and she still hadn’t arrived. Well, what made him think she’d have any respect for his time?
Jordan wasn’t in, but Will Houston, another detective on the team sauntered by. “That woman sure has you tied in knots.” As his name indicated, Will hailed from Texas and he had the drawl to prove it.
“I guess when you’ve been raised with the proverbial silver spoon, you get used to doing whatever you please.” Rico opened the Ray file. “Even if it inconveniences someone else.”
“That’s bad manners in my book, but maybe she has a good reason.”
“Yeah? It would have to be better than good since she didn’t bother to let me know.”
“So, blow her off.”
“I would in a New York minute if I didn’t need something from her.”
Will raised his eyebrows, his craggy face a testament to life in the fast lane. “First time I ever heard those words comin’ out of your mouth.”
“It’s a job. That’s my only interest.”
Walking back to his own desk, Will said, “If you say so, buddy. If you say so.”
Annoyed at his coworker, and annoyed at himself for getting more upset than he should, Rico tore open the file to see if some new evidence might miraculously appear. It didn’t.
Just as he was about to chuck the file, he saw her at the door. Tall and blond, she was a striking woman. Not movie star beautiful, but she commanded attention. Wearing a pink jogging outfit and with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she sure had his.
“Sorry I’m late.”
That was it? No reason, just sorry? “No big deal,” he said, motioning to the chair at his side. “Have a seat.”
As she sat next to him, she flipped her hair behind her shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on his desk, her face much too close to his. He didn’t know what fragrance she wore, but it made him think of dimly lit bedrooms and satin sheets.
“I was surprised to find you in the Robbery-Homicide Division.”
“Otherwise known as the ‘we-do-it-all unit,’” Rico quipped. “Murders, bank robberies, extortion, sex crimes and kidnappings.”
“I’m impressed. I’ve studied some of the more famous cases your department has investigated. Manson, the Robert Kennedy assassination and O. J., to name a few.”
“All before my time,” Rico said, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “I guess that’s a good thing. In at least one of those cases, the division got a lot of flack that I hear wasn’t warranted.”
She looked skeptical.
He shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”
Picking up a photo, one of the many of his nieces and nephews that cluttered his desktop, she asked, “Yours?”
He laughed. “Nope. That’s my nephew. All nieces and nephews.”
“So far,” Will, now sitting at another desk, interjected.
Rico stared at him. “How about I get a little privacy here?”
Grinning, Will got up. “Okay. I’m gone.”
Rico turned back to Macy.
She put down the photo and checked her watch, as if she had only so much time to give him. “What would you like me to do, Detective?”
He slid the busting-from-its-seams case file toward her. “Look at this.”
“You want me to look at the whole thing? What possible good would that be?”
“I want you to see if anything in the file strikes a chord with anything you’ve uncovered about Cody. There are more photos. Maybe you can see if there’s a resemblance between the parents in this case and the boy in your case.” He’d tried to get Chelsey Ra
y to come down, but couldn’t reach her. Mostly, he wanted the attorney to find an ounce of sympathy and let him meet with the boy in her charge.
But he kept silent, watching as she flipped through the pages, her face expressionless. She stopped only when she landed on another of Chelsey’s photos. “Did she plan to give up her child for adoption? That’s why most girls go to Haven’s Gate, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, she did. She was a teenager, unmarried, had no money and no way of caring for the child.”
“And the baby was kidnapped from the nursery?”
“Yeah. We covered all angles. The most likely scenario was that the baby’s father had abducted the infant since he hadn’t wanted the mother to give the child away. But later we discovered the mother had changed her mind about the adoption and told the father, so there was no reason for him to take the boy. When that lead fizzled, we had few others. We interviewed staff, checked lists of anyone who was allowed in the nursery during that time, and still came up with nothing. Our leads went cold and the baby has never been found.”
Macy picked up a copy of the boy’s birth certificate, then looked at Rico. “The baby disappeared after the mother told Haven’s Gate she didn’t want to go through with the adoption—or before she had a chance to tell them?”
“What does the entry in the file say?” He caught her gaze, her blue eyes making it hard to stay focused on the case. He went to the file again and flipped a couple pages.
“I didn’t see anything about it… But it’s a big file.”
Rico’s muscles tensed. It was a good question. Only he didn’t know the answer. How many times had he gone through the case — and yet he didn’t know the answer to something as simple as that, something that could have larger implications?
She shrugged. “It was just a question. It probably doesn’t matter.”
Maybe not to her, but it did to him. This was his niece’s baby they were talking about. Besides, he prided himself on doing a thorough investigation, everything by the book. He should’ve known the answer. “I’ll check the file later.”
