Finn’s abduction was peculiar, unlike anything I’d investigated before. The adoption factor, coupled with the knowledge Hannah Kinkade regretted giving up her baby, put Hannah at the front of the line on my short list of suspects. With Jack in the most capable of hands and daylight fading fast, Cade and I made our exit.
Serena’s recent phone logs produced the number Serena had used to call Hannah’s aunt the day of Hannah’s unfavorable visit. The aunt’s full name was Renee Kinkade. From there, finding an address proved easy. I just hoped we weren’t too late.
We drove across town without engaging in much conversation. Cade hummed along to a classic Bonnie Raitt tune on the radio, while I gazed at the Wyoming skyline. It was vibrant and alive, its pastel shades of pink and blue swirling together like billowy layers of cotton candy. Of all the places I’d been in my life, Wyoming sunsets were spectacular, the grandest I’d ever seen.
“I hate to admit it,” I said, “but I pegged Grace all wrong.”
“Whadd’ya mean?”
“She didn’t seem too shaken up over what happened to Serena. At first I took it to mean they weren’t as close as she led on. Now I know I was mistaken.”
“Grace is a bottler.”
“A what?”
“She isn’t big on feelings. She always keeps her emotions under control. Been like that since we was kids. Admittin’ how she feels in public just isn’t her way. Never has been.” He shot me a wink. “Kinda reminds me of someone else I know.”
At first I thought the “someone else” was Bonnie. Then I digested his words. He was hinting at me. “I share my feelings. Maybe not like other women do, but I still share them.”
“No offense, darlin’, but I’ve never met a woman who puts so much effort in keepin’ a harness on things like you do.”
My jaw tightened.
He playfully jabbed me in the side with his finger. “Now don’t go all quiet on me with that pouty face of yours. I wasn’t tryin’ to offend. We’ve known each other long enough now to be honest with each other, wouldn’t you say?”
“I guess so.”
In an effort to ease the tension, get me talking again, he changed subjects. “There’s somethin’ else you should know about Grace. She may not like talkin’ about herself, but she’s one hell of a good listener.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s a therapist.”
It explained a lot.
“As long as she doesn’t try to shrink me, the two of us will get along just fine.”
Cade looked outside, focused on the numbers displayed on the houses on our right. He stopped in front of one that displayed the numbers 399 vertically on wooden blocks. “Well, looks like we’re here.”
The globe-shaped porch light was lit, and a compact silver sedan was parked in the driveway, both positive signs of life inside. One step out of the car and the front door creaked open. A woman glanced out like she expected us, even though she couldn’t have known we were coming. In a gesture of goodwill, and hoping to ease the nervousness manifested on her face, I smiled. She smiled back, but remained visibly alarmed nonetheless.
The woman’s hair was long, dark, pinned into a loose bun below her left ear. I guesstimated her to be somewhere around forty years old, give or take, about the same age as I was. She wore a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and a tan shawl. Simple. No socks, no shoes, no jewelry. Not even a wedding ring. Her eyes were dark and radiant, even though she looked fatigued.
“Ms. Kinkade,” Cade said. “I’m Detective McCoy, and this is Detective Monroe. We’re looking for your niece.”
She pressed her palm to her chest. “Hannah? Why?”
“It’s about the boy.”
“Hannah’s boyfriend? Daniel?”
Cade shook his head. “The baby, the one she gave up for adoption.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t bother her about the baby. She’s been through so much already.”
“We know,” Cade said. “That’s why it’s important we talk to her.”
“We’re just trying to move on now. Besides, she hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“I never said she did.”
“What other possible reason could you have to be here?”
“Renee, have you watched the news today?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Why?”
“You’re not aware of what’s happened?”
Her head sloped to one side. Confused. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Finn is missing,” I said.
“What do you mean missing? Have the Westwoods moved?”
“No. I mean to say he’s been kidnapped.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and closed at a rapid rate. She leaned against the door jamb for support. “When did this happen?”
“Last night,” I said.
“Who took him, and why?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What do you know?”
“Serena Westwood is dead.”
Renee gasped, stepped back. She glanced down the hall, I assumed in the path of where Hannah was located. Renee either didn’t know anything, or she was an expert at giving the appearance of innocence. She met my gaze, reduced her voice to a hush. “You don’t think … you’re not here because you think Hannah is involved somehow?”
“We just need to ask her a few questions,” Cade said.
“She isn’t … involved, I mean.”
“Ma’am, can we come in?” Cade asked.
She hesitated.
“You know, I don’t really enjoy being called ma’am. Do I look any older than the two of you?”
I had to say, I didn’t blame her. The word made me cringe too.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll stick to Ms. Kinkade then.”
“Renee.”
Was she stalling?
“I know you’re worried about Hannah,” Cade said. “All we need to do is verify her whereabouts last night, ask a few basic questions. It won’t take long.”
“There’s no need. I can answer on Hannah’s behalf. She was here, with me, all night.”
“I appreciate you vouching for her. Either way, I’ll need to talk to your niece.”
Renee shook her head. “Hannah doesn’t need to know about what’s going on with the baby right now. Not yet. It’s too much. Don’t do this to her. Please.”
“This isn’t something you can keep from her,” I said. “She’s going to find out one way or another. And unfortunately, we might be the first to arrive at your house, but we won’t be the last.”
“I can’t even get her to come out of her room. Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“And maybe it isn’t,” Cade said. “Let me ask you this … is there a television in her room?”
She shook her head.
“What about a laptop or a cell phone?”
Renee’s eyes widened.
“It’s already been on the news,” Cade said. “And not just the local stations. If she’s on the Facebooks or the Tweeter or whatever those teenage sites are called, she probably already knows.”
Resisting the temptation to correct Cade wasn’t easy. I found his lack of knowledge of social media charming. Renee mulled over his words then turned, scurrying down the hall. We followed. She reached a closed door, knocked. No answer.
“Hannah, honey,” Renee said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
A faint groaning sound followed. “Aunt Ree, I’m tired. Can we talk later?”
Her voice was thin, delicate.
“It’s important. I just need a few minutes, okay?”
Renee jiggled the handle. The door didn’t open.
“Does she usually lock you out?” I asked, my voice lowered.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“The day. I’ve been trying to respect her privacy. She wasn’t like this at first. I actually thought she’d get through it just fine. After Serena told her she couldn’t see the baby again, she hasn�
��t wanted to leave the bedroom.”
“Do Hannah’s parents know how withdrawn she’s become? They weren’t present when she had the baby, were they?”
Renee gnawed on her bottom lip, tensed at the mention of Hannah’s parents. “We’ve … ahh … spoken a few times.”
She was lying. Hannah’s parents didn’t know what was going on with their daughter, at least not all of it. What reason would she have to keep it from them? And if Hannah was in such a bad place, why weren’t they here supporting her?
Permission or not, Cade sized up the door, prepared to kick his way through it.
“Give me a minute first, will you?” I asked.
He wasn’t thrilled, but he eased off. “If she suspects we’re here, she could be out the window for all we know.”
Renee turned up her nose. “Don’t make assumptions. You don’t know anything about her.”
“Aunt Ree … who’s out there with you?”
“Hannah? My name is Sloane Monroe. Can we talk?”
While I waited for a response, I assessed the door. It was bulky, made of solid wood, but the handle was another story, made of cheap, flimsy metal. I turned to Cade, silently mouthed the words “credit card.” He took out his wallet, slid an American Express card onto my palm. Renee held her hand out in protest. Cade cinched a few fingers around her arm, escorted her a couple feet in the opposite direction.
It was just the two of us now, or it would be, if I could get inside.
“What do you want to talk about?” Hannah mumbled. “Why are you here?”
“Your baby. I know how hard it must be—what you’re going through.”
“You know how hard it is? Really? Have you ever done what I did?”
She had every right to be critical. I could have crossed my fingers, fudged the truth. I didn’t. “No, never.”
“Then you don’t know anything.”
I heard a shuffling sound on the other side of the door, and then she said, “Go way. Just leave me alone.”
The words weren’t yelled. They were barely even uttered. I’d maneuvered the card into the door twice without much luck. On the third try, the latch released and the door opened. I expected to be met with resistance, high-pitched screams of protest, similar to what I’d received in the past from girls her age. Hannah barely stirred, her body resting beneath several thick layers of bold-colored blankets. Her eyes peeked out, assessing me. They were blank, empty, devoid of life.
“Didn’t I ask you to go away?” she stuttered. “No one ever listens to a word I say.”
I sat at the edge of the bed, tried not to invade her personal space more than I already had. If I wanted her to talk, I needed to connect somehow. Confession time. “I had a miscarriage.”
“What?”
Her attention was piqued. Good.
“Three of them, actually. I never had a baby because I couldn’t have one.”
She scooted into a semi-upright position, wadded up a pillow, tucked it behind her head. I considered it progress. A mass of wavy, blond locks trickled down her shoulders, tapering off at the waist. She was thin. Rail thin. And pale. Even in her dilapidated state, she was a beauty, exuding an angelic kind of childlike innocence. It was hard to believe she’d just had a baby when she was still a baby herself.
“So what, you’re trying to adopt?” she asked. “You want to know stuff like why I chose the birth mother I did or something? You want advice? Did the agency send you here?”
“No.”
“What then?” she asked.
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Know what?”
“I can’t empathize with the exact pain you’re feeling, but I sympathize with your loss.”
She removed the bundled-up covers, sat straight up, wrapped her arms around the front of her bent knees. “Guess so. I mean, it’s not the same thing.”
“I never said it was.”
“What happened to you?”
“You mean why did I lose my children?”
She nodded.
“Depends on who you ask. I went to several different doctors, each one telling me they thought they could fix me, figure out the problem. They ran tests, but they couldn’t find anything wrong. The man I was with at the time had fathered a child before, so it all came back to me. The last doctor I went to said I was just unlucky. I guess that’s what a person says when they don’t know what else to say. My grandmother said I was too skinny. My sister said I was too stressed. It’s one of those topics people can’t resist commenting on.”
“Were you—stressed, I mean?”
“Were you?”
She nodded.
“And yet you delivered just fine,” I said. “So do most teenage girls in your position. I wasn’t too skinny. I was fit. I wasn’t unhealthy either. I was conscious about the food I put into my body. In the end, it didn’t matter. For whatever reason, my body rejected the idea of producing children.”
“Did you … umm …”
Her eyes veered to the side.
“Whatever it is, it’s all right. You can ask me.”
“Did you name them, your babies, even though you never had them?”
“You know what? I’ve never told anyone this before, but I did.”
“What were they—their names?”
“I never knew whether they were boys or girls; I lost them too soon to tell. If he was a boy, Lincoln, and if she was a girl, Isabella. What about you?”
“Logan.” His name was whispered with gentle reverence, as if sacred. To her, it probably was.
“Logan’s a beautiful name.”
She met my gaze. “Why are you here, really?”
I felt wrong about being there. I wanted to back away, allow her to grieve. In my opinion, she didn’t take Finn, and she probably didn’t know who did. I knew that now. I saw no reason to increase her suffering. Maybe it was best she didn’t know the truth. Not yet.
Renee entered the room, her face solemn. “Hannah, something’s happened to Finn.”
I shook my head, tried masking her words with my own. It was too late. The words rang out loud and clear, and Hannah soaked up every last one.
Hannah pitched the blankets to the side, stood. “What … did … you … say?”
“Renee,” I said, “maybe it’s best if we don’t—”
“No. You two are right. Hannah needs to hear this.”
“Hear what?” Hannah asked. “What’s happening? Where is he? Where’s my baby?!”
When Renee failed to respond, Hannah turned to me for answers.
I wanted to hit rewind, go back, give Hannah her baby, give Serena and Jack a different one. I couldn’t help but wonder if this slight adjustment could have made all the difference.
Cade stepped around Renee, taking on Hannah himself in the gentlest way he knew how. “Hannah, last night Finn was kidnapped, and as of right now, he hasn’t been found. Can you think of anyone who may have had a reason to abduct him—your boyfriend, or someone else who knows what you’ve been through?”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Renee said. “Not anymore.”
“What about the birth father?” Cade asked.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Renee said. “Daniel wasn’t at the hospital when Hannah delivered. He never met the adoptive parents.”
“How could this happen? Where were his …” Hannah choked on the words. “Where were Serena and Jack?”
“Jack was at work.”
“And Serena?”
Renee spoke up. “I should be the one to tell her.”
Hannah’s eyes were wet, her cheeks stained with tears. “Tell me what, Ree?”
“Sweetie, Serena was killed last night.”
“She’s … dead?”
Hannah’s legs wobbled beneath her, unable to sustain her frail weight. I grappled for her arm and missed. Hannah stretched out a hand, reached for Renee, and collapsed.
CHAPTER 13
Light flickered in and o
ut of the room as a log cracked, relaxing into the embers skirting it on all sides. I stared into the fire, sipped chamomile tea. My thoughts centered on the visit with Hannah a couple hours before. She’d fainted, blacked-out. Not for long, just long enough to scare Renee into accepting a harsh reality—her niece needed help—the kind she wasn’t qualified to give.
After Hannah came to, her aunt drove her to the hospital. Renee called an hour later saying Hannah had been diagnosed with severe malnutrition. The doctor on call admitted her, said he’d like to keep her overnight, maybe longer. Renee blamed herself. She felt she should have noticed sooner, done more to help. I disagreed. Hannah was old enough to take responsibility for her own actions. It was up to her now.
“You okay?”
Cade’s question was simple, but not one I could answer.
I abandoned my thoughts, watched him cross the room, sit beside me.
“Your house,” I said, “it’s nice. The last time I was here you hadn’t decided what you were doing yet.”
“With the job promotion and Shelby finally takin’ to the place, I figured it was time we settle down, make a go of it. I have to admit, it feels good to be back.”
“You grew up here, but Shelby wasn’t raised here, right?”
“My ex, Shelby’s mom, was never big on Jackson Hole. She couldn’t appreciate the beauty of it all. She wanted different. Different town, different life. So I gave it to her. And when that wasn’t enough, she decided different meant she needed a new man. Lookin’ back now, I never should have agreed to leave this place.”
I wanted to entwine my arm in his, bury my head in his shoulder. I didn’t. I held back like I always did, fearing what might happen if I acted on one non-work-related impulse for once. I used my words, hoping they’d express the same form of comfort that physical affection did. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe they would. For now, in this moment, they were all I had to give.
“I can’t count all the things in my life I’d go back and change if I could,” I said. “I make sense of it all by telling myself it’s never too late to start again, to create the life I’ve always wanted. I’m trying to figure it out. Someday I will.”
Sloane Monroe 06-Hush Now Baby Page 6
