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

by Style, Linda

  Inside the institutional looking building, the overwhelming sadness and feeling of loss returned with a vengeance.

  She’d forgotten how tacky the place was. The pale green-gray walls devoid of decoration, the gray tile floor and sterile hallways. A young woman, barely eighteen if she was a day, sat at the reception desk. Probably a former resident.

  “May I help you?”

  Macy handed the receptionist her business card. “Yes, you can. I’m here on behalf of a client who was a resident at one time, and I’d like to speak with Dr. Dixon.”

  The receptionist looked from the card to Macy. “Oh, he’s not here right now.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back or where I can get in touch with him?”

  “No, I don’t. But I can ask the director, Mrs. Brighton.”

  Macy remembered the name—and the woman. Twelve years ago Sally Brighton, referred to as Mrs. B by the girls, had been sitting right here at the desk answering the phones. She’d been over thirty then, which put her in her mid-forties now. Apparently Sally had climbed the administrative ladder as she said she would. “I’d appreciate it very much if you’d do that.”

  “I’m Danielle,” the receptionist said with a smile, then pressed a button and spoke softly into the phone.

  When finished, Danielle said, “She’ll be out in a minute. You can sit over there to wait.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve been sitting all day.” And she wanted to ask the girl a couple of questions.

  “Is someone in trouble?” Danielle suddenly said.

  The wariness in her eyes put Macy on alert. “No, why do you ask?”

  She shrugged, then looked down. “The only time anyone comes here is when somebody’s in trouble.”

  “Who comes here?”

  Just then a woman’s sharp voice interrupted them. “What can I do for you, Ms—”

  “Capshaw.” Macy held out her hand and continued talking, hoping the woman didn’t recognize the name. “I’m representing a former resident at Haven’s Gate, and I’m here to speak to Dr. Dixon.”

  “Dr. Dixon isn’t available, but perhaps I can help. What is it you need?”

  “Information on my client.”

  Mrs. Brighton frowned. “Our client records are confidential.”

  “I’m aware of that. I’m also aware that a patient has a right to see her own records.”

  “Do you have a signed and notarized consent form from your client? If so, I can send her copies of the medical record, but the adoption records are off-limits. No matter what.”

  Macy knew that, but her blood pressure spiked anyway. She planned to request her own records if she didn’t get the answers she wanted from Dr. Dixon today. “This isn’t something you and I need to discuss. I came to see Dr. Dixon. Can you tell me when he might be available?”

  “He’s not available. You’ll need to call for an appointment.”

  Macy stepped closer and, maintaining eye contact with Mrs. Brighton, she said, “Okay, make me an appointment.”

  “Sure,” the girl at the desk spoke up. “I can do it.”

  Mrs. B pursed her lips. Her face flushed and she snatched the pen from the girl’s hand. “That will take some time to research, Danielle. The doctor is booked for most of the month.”

  “That’s okay. Make me an appointment anyway.”

  The older woman shook her head. “We’ll have to check the schedule and discuss it with the doctor. But we’ll get back to you.”

  Yeah, right.

  Folding her arms across her chest and in a tone that brooked no argument, Mrs. B stated, “I think you’d better leave now.”

  Macy remembered Sally Brighton’s little Hitler attitude. She’d liked power then and seemed to revel in it now.

  “Okay. But please give Dr. Dixon a message for me.” She pulled out another card and handed it to the woman. “Tell him Macy Capshaw wants to talk to him. Wesley Capshaw’s daughter. And tell him it’s very important.”

  Recognition flickered in the woman’s eyes. She didn’t take the card, so Macy laid it on the desk with the one she’d given the receptionist. “And tell him I have some grave concerns.”

  The glare Mrs. B gave Macy could’ve melted steel.

  “Thank you for your time,” Macy said, and strode out the door, her blood rushing. She hadn’t intended to give her name. She hadn’t intended to let them know she was looking into the shelter. Damn.

  Later that evening, Macy settled on the couch and flipped on the television set. After her visit to Haven’s Gate, she’d had another court appearance before visiting Cody. The boy had been sullen and wasn’t about to enjoy himself, ice cream or no ice cream. Today had been a day of failures. But the one that wrenched her heart was her inability to help Cody.

  She scoffed. What did she think? That a trip to Baskin-Robbins was going to be a magical cure-all? The boy had problems that needed a therapist—not an ice-cream cone. She’d been happy to hear his foster mother had made an appointment with one of the psychiatrists Macy had recommended and that after Cody had come out of the bathroom, the rest of his first day in foster care had been better.

  “Except for a fight with one of the other boys, he’s getting along okay,” Nancy Appleton had said. “I’ve done this before. Believe me, he’ll come around.”

  Macy wasn’t so sure. How could a boy who didn’t remember anything about himself come around? And if he did remember, would that be worse? But she had to hope the woman was right—for Cody’s sake. Still, when she’d taken him back to his new home, she knew he didn’t want to stay. He didn’t say anything, but his big, dark eyes pleaded with her.

  She’d seen eyes filled with pain like his so many times in children of families she’d worked with, that when she’d first been assigned to work as a court-appointed child attorney, she’d vowed never to let down a child she represented.

  But the problem with vows was that sometimes she didn’t have a say. A child’s disappointment wasn’t always a result of something she did wrong, but more what she couldn’t do. Sometimes she felt so helpless.

  She patted her lap for Hercules to sit with her. He hopped up and snuggled into her lap just like a baby. She didn’t know why this one case affected her so much, but she had to stop thinking about Cody. She was getting emotionally involved—and that wasn’t good.

  Just then the phone rang. She picked it up on the first ring, hoping it was Rico with new information for her. Or that Dr. Dixon had received her message and was returning the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Miss Capshaw?” A woman’s voice. Young.

  “Yes. Yes it is. Who’s calling please?”

  Silence ensued, except for muffled breathing.

  “Who is this?”

  “I—I can’t say. But I have to tell you something. Something very important.”

  At the last words, Macy recognized the voice—the receptionist at Haven’s Gate. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  RICO PLOWED THROUGH years of incident reports, looking for something that would trigger a new investigation or a search warrant in his niece’s case. There was nothing. After an hour and a half, he was ready to give up. The Ray case went cold five years ago for a reason. Why couldn’t he just accept it and get on with his job?

  Hell, he knew why. He didn’t like failure. And he didn’t like knowing the answers were out there if he could just find them. A child had been abducted, his niece’s child; there had to be clues. Every criminal left something of himself behind. Locard’s Principle. He recalled the statement that it’s impossible for a criminal to act without leaving traces of his presence. Most of it trace evidence, that which is not visible with the naked eye.

  Only the stuff Rico believed was missing wasn’t something the CSU guys were going to uncover. It was something the kidnapper forgot…or failed to do. An incorrect move he’d made or one that left some area open…and vulnerable. Like a game of chess.

  Only it was
n’t a game. He was dead serious.

  Leaning back, his mind drifted to Macy again. He’d never in a million years expected what she’d told him yesterday. Why had she given up her child? It wasn’t as if her family couldn’t afford to help. Did she not want children? He didn’t know any women who didn’t want children, but he knew from experience that some people should never have them.

  Life wasn’t always fair, but when kids got hurt, many times by those who were supposed to love and protect them, it was life at its worst. Humanity at its worst.

  His eyes tired, he squinted, then flipped to another incident report. Holly Magruder. The girl had come back to the center after her child had been adopted and demanded him back. He noted the date. Three months before Chelsey’s baby was abducted. He remembered talking to the girl’s parents. She’d been under psychiatric care before her child was born. Afterward she was sent to the state hospital.

  During their earlier investigation, they’d made a point to talk to all the girls who’d stayed at the facility when Chelsey was there. They’d missed Holly because she’d been hospitalized and any testimony she might have given would be tainted by her mental illness.

  He flipped another page. LaVonne Smith had an unexplained cut on her wrist. He didn’t remember talking to her, but knew the team would have. He flipped another page and another, finding a lot of little things, but nothing substantial. It was all stuff they’d already covered. Skimming the rest, he finally found another date—the night Macy’s baby was born.

  But again he found only a report of one child, not two. The Monroe baby. His nerves went taut. He wasn’t up on adoption rules, but he knew without a doubt that all deaths in a licensed medical facility were required to be reported to the regulating agency.

  And Macy’s stillborn baby hadn’t been recorded?

  ***

  A LOUD RINGING JERKED Rico from a dead sleep. He groped for the phone, dropped it once and finally wrestled the thing to his ear. “Yeah!”

  “Rico, it’s Macy.”

  He rubbed his eyes, then blinked, trying to focus on the red numbers of the digital clock. Instantly he came wide-awake. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Nothing? It’s two o’clock in the morning―” he mumbled, his mouth as dry as cotton, “—and you called to chat?” He’d been out all night on a homicide and had only just gone to bed. As it was, he’d only get a couple hours of sleep before he had to be at the station early, but Macy calling him in the wee hours meant something was wrong, whether she said so, or not.

  “I’m sorry. This is important.”

  He shoved himself to a sitting position, the clock throwing off enough light for him to see the half-finished can of soda on the chair next to the bed. “It must be if it can’t wait another few hours.” He grabbed the can and guzzled down the dregs. Warm and flat.

  “I had a phone call…and I thought you should know about it.”

  “What kind of call?” His protective instincts shot up another notch. “A threat?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Okay. What then?” His voice came out sharp, but dammit, between getting no sleep and thinking something had happened to her…

  “I visited Haven’s Gate today. And before you get all torqued out of shape, I didn’t do anything illegal. I simply asked to talk to Dr. Dixon.”

  “And did you?”

  “No, he wasn’t there. But I did talk to the director and asked to have the doctor call me.”

  “That’s why you called me?”

  She cleared her throat. “No. The receptionist overheard everything and, because I’m an attorney, she thought I should know a couple of things about Haven’s Gate, so she called me.”

  He rolled out of bed and stretched. “I’m all ears.”

  “The receptionist, Danielle, said strange things happen at the shelter. She made me promise not to tell anyone she’d called, which I did. But I couldn’t sleep thinking about it and finally I realized I had to tell you.”

  “Go on.”

  “She told me one of the residents had confided in her that she didn’t want to give up her child. Danielle told the girl, who was only fifteen, if that’s how she felt, she had to speak to the director.”

  Macy’s voice sounded a little shaky.

  “After that, Danielle said the girl became really sick. She had the baby and they both disappeared that same night.”

  Rico waited a few seconds before he said, “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe she had a change of heart again, signed the papers and went home.”

  “At night, after giving birth when she was so sick? That didn’t seem reasonable. So … playing devil’s advocate, that’s what I said. And I asked why she, Danielle, thought it was anything more than that.”

  “And?”

  “She said she couldn’t say any more because she didn’t want to lose her job. Then, tonight, the more I thought about it, I realized you might want to follow up…find out what happened to that girl and her baby.”

  Rico sat on the edge of the bed, his feet on the cool tile floor. He rubbed his eyes. “Damn.”

  “You can’t do it?”

  “No. I can’t question people on the basis of a disgruntled employee’s rambling. I’d need something on file with the department. A missing person’s report or a complaint of some kind. Is this Danielle willing to file a complaint?”

  He heard Macy’s disappointment in her deep sigh.

  “Of course not. That’s why she swore me to secrecy.” She sighed again. “I thought… No, I hoped you’d do what needs to be done.”

  The muscles in his shoulders tightened. “I always do what needs to be done. The right way.”

  A long silence ensued, until she finally said, “Fine. I’ll handle it myself. I was going to do that anyway until I mistakenly thought you might help.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, Macy. I will, but I have to follow procedure. Just be patient. Nothing is going to change immediately, is it?”

  “I know someone who can get information I can’t.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “You don’t need to like it. If you can’t help me, I’ll get someone who can.”

  Stubborn. Bullheaded. Used to getting what she wanted. And whether she knew it or not, she had good reason. He couldn’t tell her about his earlier finding that no incident report had been filed for the date of her child’s birth and, combined with the missing death certificate, it gave cause for suspicion. But he couldn’t tell her because suspicion was all it was.

  And why the hell was any of this even his issue?

  Because he was concerned about her. And, he realized, he was concerned because he cared about her. He wasn’t supposed to care about her — not in the way he did. “Don’t say anything more.”

  “Why? Are you going to arrest me for talking about something? As far as I know, that’s not a crime.”

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “No, but I will arrest you if you commit one.”

  “Fine. I’m not going to do anything illegal.”

  Her tone wasn’t convincing. He let out a long sigh. “Good. And since I’ve had a long day and my brain isn’t in full gear, why don’t we talk about this later. I also have something else to talk to you about, so maybe we can get together tomorrow … before you take matters in hand.”

  “I can talk now.”

  “I can’t because I’ve had only an hour of sleep and I need to be at the station in a couple of hours. I’m cranky as hell and if I don’t get some rest, I’ll be worthless.” And because he had a long list of criminals with explosives expertise to go through before he talked to her. There was a chance the warning wasn’t just meant for him and the sooner he narrowed the target and the suspects, the better.

  Silence on the other end made him wonder if she was still there. Then she said, “I have some time around five o’clock tomorrow. Will that wo
rk?”

  “Great. I’ll come to your office.” After Rico hung up, he had second thoughts. If there was a possibility Haven’s Gate was involved in a cover-up, and it was looking more and more like it was, he had to be careful what he told her.

  He just hoped to hell she didn’t do something before he talked to her.

  ***

  MACY PLUMPED THE CUSHION with a good solid punch. Five in the morning and she was still awake.

  She’d known a lot of cops and none of them had such rigid standards as Rico Santini. They improvised. They did what was necessary to get the job done. But as much as she wanted him to do what she wanted, despite procedure, she had to admit she admired that part of his character. He had convictions…lived his beliefs.

  So, she’d wait to take things further. There were other areas to pursue anyway. Her father had to have a copy of the death certificate stuffed away somewhere. He was as thorough as any man could be, but getting him to even talk about her so-called “indiscretion” was difficult. Still, she had to do it…before her parents left for Europe.

  She waited a couple of hours until she thought her father might be up, then called his personal line. After five rings, when Macy expected the message recorder to pick up, her mother answered.

  “Mom, it’s Macy. Is Dad there? I need to talk to him.”

  “He had to work late, dear, and he’s not home yet.”

  “It’s morning and he’s still working?”

  “Yes. That’s what he said. Is anything wrong?”

  “No, I just… When I had the baby twelve years ago, he took care of all the arrangements and I need to know if he has the death certificate filed away somewhere.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “I don’t know anything about that. And I don’t think your father would like being reminded of it.”

  The words seemed pat. Something her mom had been programmed to say.

  “Why do you need it?”

  “I just need to see it, that’s all. Can you please give Dad a message to call me when he comes home?”

  “I may not be here when he gets home, but I’ll leave him the message.”

  “What kind of business keeps him out all night?”