Curiosity flashed through the woman’s eyes, but it was quickly masked. “I have a card on her wedding. Just a moment.” She stepped to the computer at the counter and called up a program. “She was engaged to a Preston Smith, but the best man, Ben Lang, helped her pick up the dress. There were several possible bridesmaid dresses chosen as well, but there’s no mention of names or sizes for those.”
Amy barely managed to hold back a gasp. Ben was the best man? But everyone thought she wanted to marry Ben. Preston Smith. Amy rolled the name around in her mind. The only Preston she knew was Preston Kendrick, but he was married with a wife and children. Smith, just like Grant’s fake last name. Surely her stirring suspicions couldn’t be right.
Curtis’s face seemed etched in stone as he thanked the woman and led Amy back into the sunshine. She didn’t say anything until they were back in his Jeep. “I don’t understand this. I thought she wanted to marry Ben. So not only is he not Raine’s father, he’s not the man she loved either. So why did he pretend to be?”
“I thought she was crazy about Ben. They spent so much time together.” He started the vehicle and turned the air-conditioning to high. “I think I mentioned she was involved in some political campaigns on occasion. Preston Kendrick’s was one of them.”
“So you’re thinking like I am—Smith is a fake name, and she was in love with Senator Kendrick.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”
The fan cooled her hot cheeks, but her thoughts continued to churn. “I think we need to talk to Preston. Maybe there’s some other explanation.”
“I sure don’t know what it would be. And how do we get him alone? I don’t want to accuse him in front of his nice wife or children.”
Something about the situation still didn’t sit well with her. “I’ve always admired how much he loved Zoe. I can’t quite believe this. What if Gina was seeing Grant instead, and he used Preston’s name?”
“That’s quite a stretch. She would have known who Preston Kendrick was. She wasn’t a gullible girl like Heather. But then, Preston’s campaign manager mentioned how Grant had used Preston’s name once before. Maybe she knew who he was, but he used Preston’s name to buy the dress.” He frowned and glanced at her. “We should probably call the FBI.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, not yet. Not until we know more. I’d hate to implicate him if there’s a reasonable explanation.” Amy pulled up a browser on her iPhone and navigated to Preston’s campaign schedule. “Tonight’s rally is over at eleven. I doubt Zoe will be there until the end. She usually stays for the speech, then takes the girls home to put them to bed.”
“So basically waylay him when the rally is over?”
Confrontation wasn’t something she relished, but she nodded. “We know Ben wasn’t Raine’s dad. What if Preston is?”
“And what if he arranged to have her kidnapped?” Instead of anger, hope radiated in Curtis’s voice. “I intend to make him tell me where she is.”
“But why would he kidnap her? The FBI is involved.”
“Maybe he wanted custody.”
Amy didn’t see the sense of that. “Would he risk that when he could contact you and tell you he was Raine’s father?”
The hope in his face faded. “Well, he’d have to get into a custody battle that could be deadly for his campaign.”
Amy frowned. “But being arrested for kidnapping would be even deadlier for reelection. He’d be better off waiting until it was all over and then seek custody. Once he was elected, it wouldn’t matter much.”
“I guess so. For just a minute . . .”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I know. But we’re going to find her. Preston might know where she is.” She couldn’t imagine what he might have to do with this, but she planned to ask him. It was all very strange.
“Let’s get some dinner,” Curtis said, pulling into the busy traffic. “It’s rush hour, and we’ll make better time if we stop for food now.”
“Okay. I’m hungry anyway.” She pointed out a raw bar and grill on her side of the road.
She would need all the strength she could get for the long night ahead.
Curtis listened to Preston’s stump speech in the park by the water. The senator knew just how to inspire the crowd with specific promises on how to fix corruption in government and lower taxes, both issues he’d actually followed through with in his previous term. Until today, Curtis had always liked the senator. Now it was all he could do to keep from curling his lip.
Preston and Gina. Even knowing it was likely true, he saw no evidence of a relationship. Gina stayed on Hope Island most of the time, only going to the mainland four times a year for shopping. Could a clandestine affair have been going on so infrequently?
Voters crowded around Preston after the speech. Curtis stood off to one side with Amy and waited for the throng to thin out. The stars were bright tonight, and the warm, humid air dampened his forehead. Someone had shot off fireworks, and a wisp of gunpowder floated in the air with its acrid smell.
She leaned close to whisper, “I just saw Zoe leave with the girls.”
Her breath on his neck felt good. They were in the shadows, and he wanted to slip his arm around her waist. Her closeness would give him courage. But the roadblocks between them felt insurmountable tonight. Each of them defending their dead sibling, her parents. He shifted away as a wave of guilt swept over him. It felt wrong to even feel this attraction when his little Raine was out there somewhere. Was she even alive? He gulped as fear gripped him again.
She had to be all right.
The minutes ticked by as people trickled off to their cars. Finally, only the senator and his aides stood talking. A technician switched off the bright lights and left them even more in the dark.
Curtis took her hand, his fingers curling around hers. “Let’s go see him.”
Her cold fingers clutched his as though she was nervous. “You know he’s going to deny it. I don’t know how we’ll get him to tell us the truth.”
Before Curtis answered, Preston saw them and smiled. “I thought you two were in the crowd. How did I do?”
“Everything rang true. Listen, can we talk to you a minute?” Amy glanced at his aides. “In private?”
The senator’s smile faded. “Sure.” He turned to the others. “I’ll meet you at the van in a few minutes.” He joined Curtis and Amy. “What’s up?”
There was no easy way to segue into the discussion. No matter what Curtis said, it was going to sound accusatory. “How well did you know my sister, Gina?”
Preston’s brow lifted. “She worked on my campaign a few years ago, but I’m sure you know that already.”
Curtis dropped Amy’s hand and stepped closer. Was Gina’s murderer standing in front of him? “How about in a personal way?”
Spots of color came into Preston’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying—I’m asking if you’re Raine’s father.” Curtis curled his fingers into his palms and struggled not to grab the guy by the collar and demand to know where his niece was. Preston’s reaction was proof enough.
“Of course not. What a crazy accusation!” Preston glanced at Amy. “You don’t believe this lie, do you? Where’s all this coming from?”
She edged a little closer to Curtis. “Someone ordered a fancy wedding dress for Gina. Someone named Preston Smith.”
“And is my last name Smith?” Preston’s voice rose. “No, it is not. You, of all people, shouldn’t be accusing me. You know me too well for that, Amy.”
“Ben wasn’t Raine’s father,” Amy said. “You’re the only Preston we know.”
He clenched his fists. “And that automatically makes me a suspect? I thought we were innocent until proven guilty in this country. You’re both about to hang me without even letting me defend myself.”
Could he be right? It’s not like there were no other Prestons in the country. Curtis took a step forwar
d. “Would you be willing to take a paternity test?”
“I will not! I love my wife.” He stared at Amy. “You know how close we are. And all it would take is a whiff of this to hit the press and my campaign would be over. This conversation is over, and I never want it to be brought up again. Don’t you find it odd that you’re accusing an honest family man when Gina’s life tended toward the wild side? I’m not the one who should be on the defensive. In fact, I refuse to be.”
As he started away, Amy put her hand on his forearm. “Preston, I’m sorry if we offended you. Surely you see that we have to leave no stone unturned. There’s a little girl missing.”
Preston’s eyes widened. “You mean you actually thought I kidnapped that baby? Amy Lang, if your father knew you’d accused me of something so heinous, he’d have something to say about it.”
“I realize that,” she said softly. “Raine has been missing for four days. We’re all going a little crazy.”
“You believe me, don’t you?” Preston’s eyes were anguished. “I would never harm a child. Never.”
Even Curtis was beginning to doubt his assumption, so he was not surprised when Amy nodded her head.
“I believe you, Preston, and I’m sorry. Truly. We just had to ask.”
“No, you didn’t. You should have known better. I’m disappointed in you, Amy. I don’t think I can ever feel the same as I did about you. It’s going to be hard to look at you and not remember your accusations.”
“Blame me, not her,” Curtis said. “And how about you knock it off with the guilt trip? If one of your daughters were missing, you’d do the same thing. You wouldn’t worry about offending someone. You’d run roughshod over anyone in a quest to find her.”
Preston stared at him, then finally nodded. “True enough. All right then, I accept your apology. But no more of this. And if I hear that my wife got wind of your suspicions . . .”
“We deliberately waited to talk to you in private,” Amy said.
“I should be happy for small favors,” Preston muttered as he walked away.
Amy exhaled. “That didn’t go well. And I guess I can’t blame him. We jumped to conclusions pretty fast.”
“I think our assumptions were logical.”
She glanced at him. “You believed him, didn’t you?”
He wished he could say no, but he nodded. “Yeah, I believed him. I’ve always thought he was a good guy, and we don’t have any real evidence proving otherwise.”
As they walked back to the car, he prayed for Raine, that she was all right and that God would lead them to the right clues to find her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Heather blinked at the bright sun as she stood on the sidewalk outside the jail. She’d seen little of the sun through the small window in her cell. She was free, if you could call it that when she had no idea where to go or what to do now. Grant had cut her off, and there was no way her parents would help her.
Someone called her name, and she turned to see Amy beckoning from her small red car. She looked serious, though her lips tipped in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Hi.” Heather bent over to speak through the open window. “You heard I got out, huh? Did you bring my things?”
“No, I came to take you home.”
“T-Take me home?”
“Yep. Get in.”
Heather didn’t waste time with questions, not with people staring curiously at her. Once she was in the passenger seat with her belt fastened, she ducked her head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I thought you probably didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Heather kept her head down, allowing the swing of her hair to hide her face from Amy. “I don’t,” she mumbled. “Did you post my bail?”
“I did.”
Heather caught her breath and finally looked up. “Why? I would have thought you hated me now.”
Amy’s eyes were kind when she glanced her way, then back at the road. “Tom told me how old you really are. Seventeen.”
“So?”
“You were taken in by a con man. Tom called your mother, you know.”
Heather’s fingers tightened around the armrest. “Why would he do that? He had no right!”
“I suppose you already know what your mother told him.”
Heather swallowed, knowing full well the depth of her mother’s hatred. “She said she doesn’t have a daughter. She tossed me out long ago.”
“How long have you been on your own?”
“Two years.”
Amy pulled into the drive and turned off the car before she faced her. “Care to tell me what happened?”
The muscles in Heather’s throat gave a convulsive twitch. It wasn’t something she’d told anyone. She looked down at her hands. “My mom’s boyfriend made a pass at me. Okay, more than a pass. H-He—”
Amy put her hand on her arm. “I get the picture. Your mom found out and blamed you?”
Heather touched her suddenly wet face. “How’d you guess?”
“I’ve heard it before.” Amy sighed. “In my line of work, I see more than you can imagine.” She pushed open the passenger door. “Come on inside. I’ll fix you some lunch.”
In her cell at night, Heather had pictured Rosemary Cottage. The roses rambling up the porch, the herbs swaying in the breeze, the crisp paint. She still wasn’t sure how it had happened that the cottage had become home when she’d never felt at home anywhere.
Once there, she followed Amy up steps she never thought she’d see again. “Why are you doing this? It’s my fault Raine is missing.”
Amy opened the screen door and motioned her inside. “I don’t know, really. I guess I felt sorry for you when I saw you at the jail. And I’m hoping you will want to help find Raine.”
“I do, oh I do!” She followed Amy to the kitchen and watched as she got into the refrigerator and pulled out hummus and cheese. “A-And I want to see Grant pay for what he did to me.”
Amy gave a small gasp and turned. “No one told you?”
“Told me what?”
Amy’s mouth was soft, and her eyes held sympathy. “Someone murdered Grant, honey. His body was found in the bay the night Raine went missing.”
The strength ran out of Heather’s legs, and she grabbed the counter. “He’s dead?”
“Yes. Are you okay?”
Heather’s eyes filled. She thought his actions had ripped every root of love from her heart, but she was suddenly sobbing. Amy quickly embraced her, and she buried her face in the soft cotton of Amy’s shirt.
Amy led her to the table and pulled out a chair. “I shouldn’t have told you so abruptly. I’m sorry. I guess you still have feelings for him. Let me get you some iced tea.” She moved to the counter. “We have no idea how to find Raine. Or this Bossman fellow.”
While Amy rummaged in the refrigerator, Heather tried to collect herself. Grant was scum, a con artist, and who knew what else, but he’d been all she had, and she’d been holding out hope that he would call her and ask her to join him. That he wasn’t as bad as it first appeared when she called from jail.
Now she was truly alone.
She clutched the cold glass of iced tea and took a gulp. “Do you think I still have a job?”
“I don’t know, Heather.” Amy hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m sure Imogene has heard what you did.”
“And likely will terminate me.” Heather put the glass on the table and buried her face in her hands. “I’ve so screwed up my life. There’s no way of fixing it.”
“There’s always a way of redemption.”
Heather lifted her head. “You’re talking about God, I suppose. Let’s get real, okay? I’m a lost cause, even for him.”
“No one is ever a lost cause.” Amy paused. “Have you ever thought about going back to school? You never finished, did you?”
Heather shook her head. “It’s impossible. I have to work to support myself.” Rising, she went to look out the window. “There has t
o be a way to find Bossman.”
“What do you know about him?”
What did she know? The man had been an enigma. Always hovering near Grant with that ominous bulge in his pocket she’d assumed was a Glock. He looked the sort to carry a heavy-duty gun like that. And why did Grant need protection?
She turned abruptly. “He was a bodyguard. From things they said, I thought he’d been with Grant a long time, years. He had a Boston accent. I heard Grant call him Vince once, so that might be his first name.”
“You have no idea why you were supposed to take Raine?”
Heather went back to the table and sat down. “I told you—it was about paternity and money.”
Amy’s face was full of pain. “That makes a lot more sense now that we know Ben isn’t Raine’s father.”
Amy’s eyes were gritty as she sat on the sofa with her legs curled under her. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had a good night’s sleep. With the baby still missing, she tossed and turned, praying most of the night. And five days later they were no closer to finding Raine.
Ever since she’d gotten back from the jail three hours ago, Heather had barely moved from her bedroom. It was as if she feared saying the wrong thing and ending up back at the jail. Heather’s cell phone rang, and Amy picked it up to take it to her. And froze.
Ben’s picture flashed on the screen.
Amy stared at it. It was like hearing from a ghost. She had to know. She flicked it on and muffled her voice. “Hi.”
“Heather, that you? You sound like you have a cold.”
It was her brother’s voice in her ear. No other voice had that deep rumble, that resonance that made you want to do whatever he wanted. Amy’s throat closed, and she couldn’t speak as tears flooded her eyes. Was this some kind of prank? A recording that some cruel person had used to hurt her? She looked again. Wait, this was Heather’s phone, not hers. Why would someone play a prank on Heather?
“Heather?” Ben asked. “You there?”
It was no recording. “Ben,” she managed to say. “It’s Amy.”
There was a long pause. “I don’t know any Ben. I’m looking for Heather.” The phone clicked in her ear.
Colleen Coble Page 25
