Meredith stood and brushed off her slacks. “We’ll need more than conjecture. Let me speak to Ros first, see if I can get her to confirm it. If that doesn’t work, I’ll get a judge to issue a warrant for a DNA test.”
Grey stood too. “I can help with Ros. I have a special technique for getting confessions.”
Taylor just bet he did.
Mer started to say no, then stopped. “I have your word that you’ll get out of my hair after this?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
She rolled her eyes and waved at him to come along. Taylor smiled, watching the two enemies walk out together as she hopped up and followed. She couldn’t wait to get Ros’s confession and tell Matt.
Baby Jarvis was alive.
* * *
After a restless night spent in the hospital, Matt sat in a wheelchair under the entrance canopy waiting for his ride. A fucking wheelchair. Hospital regulations, the nurse had said. Which he knew, but actually sitting in the chair, being pushed around when he was capable of walking on his own, made him insane.
The familiar knock of the Buick’s twenty-year old engine sounded—he’d know that car anywhere—and he levered out of the chair careful not to put any pressure on the arm wrapped in the sling. Somehow he’d managed to get out of that mess with only a hole in his shoulder. As soon as he got in the car he was ditching the sling. That thing bugged him more than the wound.
After coming to a hard stop at the curb, momentum rocked the Buick forward and Matt shook his head. His father needed serious lessons in finessing the brake. Still, he laughed, taking comfort in the brutal fact that some things never changed. Like his father’s impatient driving.
“You ready, kid?” Dad asked.
“I am.”
Dad hustled around the car and opened the door, a mile-wide grin on his face. “Let me help you, princess.”
“If you weren’t my father, there’s a phrase I’d use. It starts with an F and ends with the word you.”
Dad, being the grisly retired cop he was, snorted. “Watch your head getting in.”
“Wait!”
Matt swung back and spotted Taylor, dressed in her wrinkled FBI-wear, charging around the side of the building, her blonde hair flying and damn she was a sight for sore-eyes. Watching her run, every curve of that body he now knew so well coming at him, he wanted his hands on her. Immediately. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d kicked her out of the hospital last night. Sitting with him there wouldn’t bring Baby Jarvis home.
Besides, he hadn’t been up for his family en masse and the questions about the hot blonde at his bedside. Being stoned on painkillers wasn’t exactly his idea of a good meet and greet for Taylor and his crazy relations.
“Matt!”
His father cocked his head. “And, hello. Who’s this?”
“Taylor Sinclair. She’s FBI.”
Dad let out a low whistle.
“Shut it, Dad.”
She halted in front of him, waving her hands and somehow her body, the whole of it, seemed to still be buzzing. As if she couldn’t quite control it. She drew a deep breath and her chest heaved, making her tits bounce and yep, he needed hands on her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been calling you.” Still breathing heavy, she held her phone up, then tucked it into her pocket. “Your phone is off.”
“The battery died. I don’t have the cord with me. You okay?”
“I’m great.”
Without warning, she stepped forward, grabbed his cheeks and planted one on him. Right in front of Dad.
She backed away an inch and met his gaze, her green eyes bright. Taylor in a good mood made a cloudy day sunny.
“Um, have I introduced you to my father?”
A gasp exploded. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope. He’s standing right next to you, babe.”
Her eyes turned into saucers and Matt cracked up. “Special Agent Sinclair, meet Matt Stephens, Sr.”
She dropped her hands, made a show of throwing her shoulders back and held her hand out. “Sir, so nice to meet you. I apologize for my rudeness.”
“Didn’t seem rude to me. Hell, I was hoping I was next.”
“Dad,” Matt said. “Shut. It.”
Taylor ran her hands through her hair, attempting to straighten the windblown tangles. God, he was crazy about her.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she said. “You need to come with me.”
“Where?”
“Press conference.”
“Honey,” Dad said, “my son got shot last night. He’s going home.”
Taylor, being Taylor, ignored him and her face lit up again. “We found him.”
“The baby?”
“Yes! Baby Jarvis.”
“No way.”
What the hell was wrong with him? Could he not manage more than a one or two word sentence?
“Yes way. After I left here, I hightailed it to Ros’s apartment. That filing cabinet we saw when we were there? Total treasure trove. I told them not to touch it until I got there and we went through every damned file. She’s got stuff in there from ten years ago.”
“Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Baby Jarvis?”
“Right. Sorry. By the time I got to the last drawer of files I was losing hope and then—voila—I found a file dated six weeks after Felicity went missing. Inside was a birth certificate. Beck and Teeg ran the names of the biological parents. Guess what?”
Matt rolled his eyes. Seriously? She wanted to play games right now? “What?”
“Dead.”
“Just like the other birth certificate.”
“Yep. And there’s more. The bottom drawer had a binder in it. Each page had photos of couples and all kinds of interesting information. Income, family history, the works. It’s a damned catalog of upper crust parents.”
In two minutes, she brought him up to speed on what had happened overnight with Rosalind, Dottie, Glaw, and Kristina. “We even found the scalpel Glaw used on Felicity at his place. They’re all going down and we now know who has James—the name Ros gave Walt’s son.”
“What’s this press conference about?”
“The director is going to update the media on the Jarvis case and what we discovered about Ros’s illegal adoptions. I told Mer you had to be there.”
“She must have loved that.”
Taylor waved that off. “Ask me if I care? You worked this case longer and harder than everyone. You deserve the credit.”
“Honey,” Dad said, “I like you already.”
Matt grinned up at his father, enjoying the lightness of the moment. Enjoying Taylor, the ace Special Agent, something he’d never achieved, allowing him to share her spotlight. All these years, he’d allowed the Bureau’s rejection to define him. To make him feel inferior.
And, in the end, make him a better investigator.
Damn, he’d been looking at this thing upside down. The Bureau had actually done him a favor.
“Thank you,” Taylor said to Dad. “Your son is an amazing man.”
Dad set his hand on top of Matt’s head and shook it. “That he is. No thanks to his pain in the ass old man.”
“So, what do you say, Mad Dog? Want to come to an FBI press conference and have those jerks choke on the fact that you solved their case for them?”
“We solved their case.”
“Ha! We solved their case. I like it.”
“Me too,” he said. “I like it a lot.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The dog and pony show made Taylor want to barf, but it was necessary for the FBI to alert the media and public at large that a killer had been brought to justice and another cold case solved. Especially since it involved Senator Jarvis. Hence the large press conference currently underway in the first floor conference room of FBI headquarters, Assistant Director Cunningham laying out the details to the standing-room-only crowd.
The only good thing about the press conferenc
e was that Taylor was squished in next to Matt. He’d complained all the way to his place, where she’d helped him clean up, and then to the Hoover building, but she’d given him her best puppy dog eyes and he’d finally agreed to stand behind the podium with her. Little did he know her real reason for wanting him front and center with her. When Meredith had balked again at allowing him to stand with the rest of the cold case team, Taylor had simply pulled Matt along with her anyway.
Beck and the others were packed in like sardines with her. Thank goodness Leo was nowhere in sight.
Licking his wounds, no doubt.
Taylor gave herself a mental high-five.
Matt’s body heat warmed her left arm and back. He smelled amazing and her fingers itched to touch him. Thanks to a phone call she’d snuck in earlier, his bosses were part of the crowd gathered in the room, so she forced herself to keep her hands to herself.
At the podium, Cunningham droned on, a dozen different local and national news reporters making notes as he informed them about the outstanding work the Bureau had done in uncovering Felicity Jarvis’s killer and shutting down Ros’s illegal adoption ring.
Taylor couldn’t keep from coughing loudly, since it was actually Grey’s team, along with her, Matt, and the sisters who’d managed to put the pieces together and shut it down. She could just imagine Mitch watching this on TV and cursing out Cunningham while he nursed the bump on the back of his head.
“You look beautiful,” Matt whispered in her ear, his breath sending goosebumps down her neck.
He’d changed into a sharp blue suit that brought out his eyes even more than usual. He’d gone sans tie and left the top button of his steel gray dress shirt undone. He’d refused to wear the sling and she’d given up arguing with him since she’d hate the darned thing too.
Taylor couldn’t help it. Her hand went right to Matt’s and gave it a squeeze.
Thank God he was here with her. That he was alive.
I’m lucky.
For once, it didn’t seem like a sacrilege to think that. For once, she didn’t need a scotch to numb her. Her life had been a series of unfortunate events, but there had been good stuff too. Her job, the families she gave closure to, the children she saved. While her own family may have drifted apart after Isabel’s disappearance, she’d managed to reunite many families with their missing relatives.
Like Walt and his son.
Taylor had already initiated calls trying to quietly work out an arrangement between Walt and his son’s adoptive parents, the Mercers, so that all parties could get to know each other. The boy—James—was an innocent party in all of this. Taylor had insisted that there was no way in hell she was letting Walt or anyone in the Bureau turn this reunion into a circus. His identity had been kept confidential for now, and Walt and the Mercers were working out an arrangement so that Walt could meet the boy.
For now, the Mercers appeared to have been victims as well. All they knew was they’d paid a boatload for a private adoption that appeared legal.
Taylor had to admit she was mildly impressed that Walt hadn’t insisted on jerking James out of his stable home, but he’d done the right thing and was taking things slow.
“Where is Senator Jarvis?” a female reporter in the front row asked, drawing Taylor’s wandering mind back to the present. “You said his son is alive. Where is he? Who is he living with? Will he be returning to the senator’s home?”
Cunningham gave the crowd his fake smile, one that was meant to convey patience but really meant he was annoyed. Taylor had seen it more times than she cared to count. “I’d like to introduce the head of our cold case division,” Cunningham said, “Special Agent Taylor Sinclair. She’ll be able to answer your questions.”
Way to put me in the line of fire.
Taylor felt Matt squeeze her fingers before she released his hand and stepped to the podium.
Flashes went off. The reporters slid forward in their seats, piranhas waiting for their next morsel of juicy meat.
Taylor had been here before in the media spotlight, under their scrutiny. There really was no need for Cunningham’s introduction, since every one of the reporters had been present for Taylor’s press conferences in the past. It had always given her a sense of accomplishment to stand before them and announce to the world that she had reunited another family, or at least given them much needed closure.
This press conference made the previous ones pale in comparison. It was career-making, just like the case.
At the end of the year, Meredith would be heading to the New York office to take over a division there. Cunningham had already offered Taylor Mer’s position.
“Thank you all for being here today,” Taylor said. She was so ready for this. A big smile spread across her face. “To answer your question, Senator Jarvis is requesting privacy at this time. When he is ready, he will make a statement. When that will be, I can’t say.” She paused a second and looked over at Matt, standing so proudly beside her. Her breath caught and she turned back to the microphone. “You know,” she said, “one of the reasons I became an FBI agent is because my younger sister, Isabel, was kidnapped when we were kids. She was never found, and even though I was only nine at the time, I’ve always felt responsible for not stopping the man who took her.”
She had to stop a moment and clear her throat. Breathe. “I’ve never shared this story because it has always been a personal demon for me, driving me to find Isabel and all the children who go missing each and every year. As an agent, I’m expected to keep a professional distance with every case. I’ve found that difficult to do, because in many ways, every missing child is my sister, every cold case is hers. They are all important, just like she is to me. I take them all very personally.”
Now the reporters were hanging on her every word. Some were scribbling notes, others were intently holding their phones and recorders in the air to catch her story.
“For me to have an opportunity to solve an old murder, find a missing child, and stop the perpetrators from ever doing this to an innocent family again, brings me a great sense of accomplishment. And,”—she chuckled, knowing it was a good time to lighten things up a bit—“a little job security, since I have a dozen more cases to work on now involving the other illegal adoptions by the Hearts of Love Agency.”
As expected, the reporters chuckled.
“What Dwayne Glaw and Rosalind Gardener did is deplorable, and it will be my personal mission to make sure every family and child affected by her black market operation receives justice. When Felicity Jarvis was kidnapped, the FBI agents who worked the original case did an outstanding job laying the framework for me and my team”—she waved a hand behind her to include Beck and the others—“to solve the cold case after nearly eight years.”
The reporter who’d asked about James started to interject another question. Taylor shut her down. “And when I say my team, that includes several people outside the Bureau.”
Behind her, Meredith hissed loud enough for her to hear, “What are you doing, Taylor?”
Giving credit where credit is due. “Unfortunately, several of the people who helped with this case cannot be here with us today to receive the recognition they deserve.” Nor would Grey allow it. “Their identities must be kept secret. But there is someone here today who played a pivotal role in solving the case, and I can honestly say, it has been an honor working with such an amazing professional. Matt?”
She swiveled and saw the look of surprise on his face. He may not have made it through the rigors of the Academy, but he belonged here, especially today, being acknowledged for his talents and skills.
Meredith hissed something else, but Taylor ignored her as she waved Matt forward.
For a second, he didn’t move, his blue eyes snapping. Then, begrudgingly, he stepped to the podium as more flashes went off, giving her a look that told her she was in for a spanking.
Taylor gave him a wink. Bring it on, Mad Dog. “Matt Stephens, an elite private investigator with Sch
ock Investigations, uncovered the key to turning this whole case around. Like me, his life was once touched by tragedy, and that has made him the investigator he is today. He, too, has an impressive track record at solving cold cases and finding missing children. I sincerely wish he was on my cold case team here at the Bureau.”
Matt lifted a brow. A tiny smile tickled one corner of his mouth. “It was an honor to work with Agent Sinclair,” he said, staring at her rather than at the reporters. “One I hope can be repeated.”
He nodded at the reporters and stepped back into the lineup behind her. Taylor caught Charlie and Meg’s eyes in the audience, and saw they were both smiling. Meg gave Taylor a thumbs-up.
Reporters starting shouting questions and she raised her hands to quiet them. “Because the investigation into the other illegal adoptions is ongoing, I cannot discuss further details of this case, and given the senator has requested his privacy—and that of his son’s—be respected, please…leave Walt and his wife, Ann, alone to figure out their family situation. If you don’t, and you cross any lines, I’ll find a way to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”
She said the last threat with a smile worthy of Cunningham. After a slight pause to make sure her words sunk in, she dismissed the crowd.
Cunningham and Meredith left first, followed by the reporters. Charlie and Meg came forward to hug Matt.
“Are you taking the promotion, Tay?” Beck asked her quietly.
Not quietly enough evidently, since Matt gave her a questioning look. She smiled at Beck and the rest of her team. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I want to stay exactly where I am, with you guys, doing what I do best. Besides, like I told the reporters, our workload just doubled. You guys need me.”
Beck laughed. “You just don’t want to be Cunningham’s bitch 24/7.”
“That could be part of it,” she agreed.
Missing Justice (The Justice Team Book 7) Page 25
