by Rita Herron
“Do you know who Judy’s birth parents are?” Slade asked.
She lowered her voice. “Yes. The baby’s mother died in the fire that night. When we heard about the baby, and learned the woman had no family, we jumped in to take Judy. She needed us and we needed her.”
“She seems small for her age,” Slade said. “Did she have any health problems when she was born?”
Gwen glanced at her daughter, concern on her face. “She has asthma. Why?”
“My baby was premature,” Nina said. “She was in the NICU.”
“Judy is not your child, Miss Nash.” Gwen folded her arms, her expression shutting down. “Now, I’ve answered your questions because I feel sorry for you. But I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Nina said. “But I’m desperate to find out what happened to my baby. Do you think it’s possible that the lawyer lied to you when he claimed Judy’s mother died in the fire?”
Gwen ripped the napkin in two. “Why would he do that?”
Nina explained about the Hoods’ reactions to her pregnancy.
Gwen’s eyes widened. “You’re suggesting that one of them kidnapped your baby, then gave her to me?”
“It’s one theory,” Slade said matter-of-factly.
Gwen stood. “Well, that’s just not possible. Judy can’t be your child. Her mother is dead.”
Nina glanced back at the little girl. She was precious, but she didn’t feel the connection she’d expected to feel when she saw her child again for the first time. Did that mean Judy wasn’t hers? That Gwen was telling the truth?
“Then maybe you saw something that night that can help me,” Nina continued. “Maybe you saw someone strange hanging around the nursery…”
Gwen folded her arms, then cast her a belligerent look. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I was so distraught over my loss that the nurses gave me a sedative. I barely remember the fire, only that someone carried me outside.”
She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Now, I really do want you to leave. I have my family to take care of.”
NINA’S SILENCE DURING the drive toward Winston-Salem worried Slade. He understood that the interview with the Waldorp woman was uncomfortable, but asking questions always caused some kind of emotional reaction. It was part of the job.
Besides, he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him. He had to ask questions, probe, pry, piss off people, sometimes lie or treat them harshly to get answers.
But Nina had a compassionate nature, and her empathy for the other woman would have clouded her judgment.
“Do you believe her story?” Slade asked.
Nina shrugged. “It sounds plausible.”
“Yeah,” Slade said. “But she might not know the truth herself. If someone paid the doctor enough, he could have fabricated that story and given her your baby and merely told her the baby’s mother died to avoid questions and to push the adoption through without questions.”
Nina leaned her head into her hands. “It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that someone could be that devious.” Her expression grew more strained. “And the little girl did look happy. Gwen obviously loves her like she was her own.”
Slade gritted his teeth. Yes, the woman did. But was the child Nina’s? He needed DNA for verification, and Gwen Waldorp wouldn’t give that up easily.
Nina looked so distraught he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her again, assure her everything was all right. But if that child was Nina’s, then she would be torn over what to do.
And ripping the child away from the only mother she’d ever known, and her father and baby brother, would be hell for everyone.
Dammit.
He glanced at Nina again. How was she going to handle a confrontation with Mrs. Hood, the woman who’d tried to pay her to get rid of her child?
Slade’s cell phone buzzed, and he connected the call. “Blackburn.”
“It’s Amanda. I talked to the forensic anthropologist and she reviewed her files. That infant bone belonged to a baby boy, not Peyton Nash.”
Probably Gwen’s stillborn child. Slade thanked her again and disconnected the call, then relayed the forensics findings.
Nina chewed her bottom lip. “Then it wasn’t Peyton. That means she’s alive.”
Slade slanted her a warning look. “It means there’s no proof that she was caught in the fire, Nina.” And he needed more before a judge would grant a request for Judy Waldorp’s DNA.
“She’s alive,” Nina said with such certainty that he almost believed that she really knew, that she might have some kind of connection to her daughter.
But he had long ago lost faith in anything, much less something intangible like love or a connection between two people. Even a mother and daughter.
He found the country-club community where William’s mother lived, stopped at the security gate, showed his ID, then drove past the manicured golf course to the Hood estate, a massive English Tudor house that looked more like a hotel than a home.
A crew of workers were busy tending the lawn and flower beds and looked up when he parked, but didn’t comment as he and Nina walked up the walkway.
He rang the doorbell, tapping his foot as he waited. Finally a woman in a uniform answered. “Is Mrs. Hood in?” Slade asked.
“No, sir, I’m sorry. May I tell her who was inquiring?”
“Where is she?” Slade asked.
The woman frowned. “I don’t give out her where abouts to just anyone.”
“Please,” Nina said, then introduced the two of them. “It’s important I talk to her.”
The woman hesitated but her look softened. “She’s at the country club having lunch.”
Nina thanked her, and the two of them returned to the SUV. Slade circled back the way they’d come and pulled into the parking lot of the country club.
“Mrs. Hood won’t be pleased to see us,” Nina said.
Slade grunted. “I don’t give a damn. From what I’ve heard about this lady, she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”
A small smile curved Nina’s mouth, making him see for the first time how beautiful she would be if she were happy. He wanted to see her smile again.
Marble floors gleamed as they walked in, the scent of fresh flowers filling the entry. Beveled mirrors, expensive paintings and vases decorated the walls, and heavy, red velvet curtains covered the windows.
To the right, he spotted a plush dining room, and he and Nina walked to the doorway. The room was packed with women’s groups, couples and businessmen, most dressed to the nines. An outdoor patio held other tables where the tennis and golf crowd seemed to have gathered.
“She’s in the far-right corner,” Nina said, pointing to a small table of four women.
Slade gestured for her to lead the way, and she crossed the room, silently willing herself to remain strong and not let the woman rattle her. When Mrs. Hood noticed them, she jumped up, shock and anger drawing her face into a scowl. She tossed down her napkin and strode briskly from her party, weaving between white-linen-clothed tables until she reached them.
She stopped and glared at Nina, her diamonds twinkling beneath the crystal chandelier. “What are you doing here?”
Nina squared her shoulders. “Trying to find my daughter.”
Mrs. Hood rolled her eyes. “My God, it’s true,” she huffed. “William called and warned me you’d hired another P.I.”
“Yes, I have,” Nina said flatly. “And I’m not going to give up until I learn the truth.”
The woman’s eyes spewed rage as she tossed her head back. “Well, I have nothing to say to you.”
Slade cleared his throat. “We can talk here, lady, in front of your friends or step into the hall for privacy. Your choice. But we will talk.”
Mrs. Hood snarled then strutted toward the lobby, her heels clicking on the polished marble floors. Obviously determined to avoid a scene, she led them to a small alcove, then folded her arms, gold bracelets cl
inking on her wrists. “You have five minutes before I call security and have you removed from the premises.”
Nina pressed her lips into a tight line, and Slade gritted his teeth. He’d never hit a woman before, but he felt like slugging this one. “Where were you last night, Mrs. Hood?”
An appalled gasp escaped her. “At the club. Why?”
“Because since I started investigating this case, someone has started taunting Nina.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Mr. Blackburn. She’s delusional and can’t accept the fact that her child died.”
Slade straightened to his full height, towering over her and pinning her with an intimidating stare. “I think she has good reason to suspect that her daughter might have survived.”
“What are you talking about? The police turned up nothing—”
“Exactly,” Slade said. “They never found a body.”
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Hood said, sounding exasperated. “Just look at the horrible pictures from that fire. The baby certainly didn’t walk out alive on her own.”
Slade shoved his face into hers. “No, she didn’t. I think you or someone you hired carried her out.”
Chapter Eleven
At one time the vehemence in William’s mother’s voice would have bothered Nina, but she no longer cared about the woman’s opinion.
And if she had been responsible for Peyton’s disappearance, she would never forgive her.
Mrs. Hood’s eyes widened. “How dare you imply such a thing?”
“You tried to bribe Nina to have an abortion,” Slade continued. “And when she refused, you tried to convince her to give the baby up for adoption.”
“She was just a child herself, a little tramp, not equipped to take care of a baby,” Mrs. Hood said icily.
“Oh, come on,” Slade said in a tone that matched the woman’s. “You weren’t concerned about the baby, or you would have offered to help raise her. You just didn’t want a reminder that your son had an illegitimate child.”
She batted her false eyelashes. “That’s ridiculous.”
Slade arched a brow. “Is it? Or does the truth sound as ugly as it is, because it certainly sounds like you had motive for kidnapping.”
“I did not kidnap that child,” Mrs. Hood said vehemently.
“Then tell me where you were the night the baby disappeared.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, Mister, but I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Slade shifted and crossed his arms. “Were you at the hospital the night Nina gave birth?”
Mrs. Hood lifted her chin haughtily. “Either leave now, or I’m calling security.”
Nina touched her arm. “Were you at the hospital, Eileen?”
“No.” Mrs. Hood jerked her arm away from Nina’s hand. “For heaven’s sakes, stop harassing me.”
“Then you hired someone,” Slade suggested. “Did you arrange for an adoption or did your own daughter take the baby and raise her?”
Mrs. Hood gasped and raised her hand as if she might slap Slade. “You leave my daughter and grandchild out of this. Now get out!”
Her raised voice and demeanor caught a security guard’s attention and he strode toward them.
Slade made a sarcastic sound low in his throat. “Lady, you don’t scare me.”
“You should be scared, Mr. Blackburn. I have a lot of money and power in this town, and I can sue you for harassment.”
Slade held up a hand to the approaching security guard, indicating that force wasn’t necessary. “I don’t give a damn who you are or how much money you have, Mrs. Hood. If you did something to Nina’s child, I’ll find out, and you will rot in prison.” He glanced across the ballroom with disdain. “And you won’t be dining on caviar or wearing diamonds there.”
“THANK YOU FOR STANDING up for me in there,” Nina said as they walked out to his SUV.
Slade grimaced as he climbed inside and started the engine. “That woman is a snotty bitch.”
Nina laughed, a musical sound that made Slade pause and look at her. With the afternoon sunlight dancing through the silky strands of her blond hair and that smile, she looked radiant.
His gut pinched, his body hardening instantly. He wanted to touch her hair again, kiss those perfect, ripe lips and run his hands over her body.
He wanted to solve all her problems.
That thought sent a surge of fear through him. He was getting too close to her, starting to care.
Caring was dangerous.
Gritting his teeth, his resolve set in. Stay focused. Keep your mind on the case.
Find the little girl and get away from Nina.
He just hoped to hell he found her alive….
His stomach growled, and he drove to downtown Winston-Salem, and found a café for lunch. Nina ordered a salad and he wolfed down a burger.
“I still can’t believe Mrs. Hood would kidnap my baby and keep her from me all these years.”
“I can’t believe you’d even doubt it. The woman is obsessed with money and her image.”
“That’s true.” Nina nodded and sipped her water. “And she definitely wanted me out of her life.”
“If you’d kept the baby, she was probably afraid you’d try to milk the family for money.”
Nina gasped. “I would never have done that, Slade.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you would. But your child would have been a rightful heir to the Hood fortune, and William would have owed you child support for years.” He lifted a brow. “This way, they were free and clear.”
“She didn’t care how much she hurt me,” Nina said quietly. “And those dolls…do you think she could have put them in my house?”
“I doubt she’d dirty her own fingers,” Slade said. “But with her money, she could have hired someone to make you look crazy so no one would believe you.”
“And it worked,” Nina said. “Even my father thought I’d lost my mind, that I did those things myself.”
Slade shrugged, then settled the bill, and they went back to the car and headed toward William’s sister’s house.
“If Mrs. Hood is guilty, I wonder if William knew what she did,” Nina said.
Slade gritted his teeth. “If he did, they’ll all pay for it.”
Nina lapsed into silence until they reached their destination, a modern brick two-story in an upper-class neighborhood. The Lucases were obviously doing well for themselves. From the article he’d read online, he’d learned that Mr. Lucas was a physician at the local hospital.
Slade punched the doorbell, and the sound of footsteps echoed from inside. A thin blonde wearing shorts and a tank top answered the door.
“Mrs. Lucas?” Slade said.
The woman’s expression was wary. “Yes. My mother called. I’ve been expecting you, Nina.” She gestured for them to come in. “Let’s go out back. Tiff is in the pool, and I need to watch her.”
“Of course,” Nina and Slade said at the same time.
They followed her through an immaculate kitchen and sunroom to a brick patio and pool. The little girl was playing with a dinosaur raft in the water. Longing swelled in Nina’s eyes.
“Mother claims that you accused her of kidnapping your baby eight years ago,” Diane said. “Is that true?”
“We just wanted to ask her some questions,” Slade began, then explained their reasoning behind believing Peyton might still be alive.
“I see.” Diane gave Nina a sympathetic look. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,” she said in a low voice then turned to look at her daughter who was laughing as she struggled to climb on the raft. “I don’t know what I would have done if I were in your shoes, but I’d probably be asking the same questions.”
Slade was surprised at her calm sensitivity. This woman seemed nothing like her mother.
“Diane,” Nina said, “I hate to ask you this, but your mother hated me back then, and she didn’t want me to have the baby. She offered me a bribe to have an abortion.”
Diane sighed and glanced down at her hands, then looked back up. “I know. William told me. And I have to admit that I wasn’t surprised. Mother has always been obsessed about her reputation and climbing the social ladder.”
“In light of how she felt,” Slade said, “do you think she might have arranged for someone to take the baby?”
The little girl squealed and Diane glanced at her to make sure she was okay. But Tiff had managed to straddle the dinosaur and was laughing with glee, splashing and paddling with all her might.
“I don’t know,” Diane said. “I’d hate to think my mother would do something that devious. I…just can’t imagine.”
A car sounded in the drive out front, and footsteps pounded through the house. A moment later, a dark-haired man in a suit appeared through the French doors, looking furious.
“Diane, what in the hell are you doing letting these people in our house?”
Diane stood. “Calm down, Dennis. There’s no reason I shouldn’t talk to them.”
Dennis stormed over to the patio table where they were sitting. “This is outrageous. Your mother called me, hysterical. She said they accused her of kidnapping a child and then giving the baby to us to raise.”
“I’m sorry,” Nina said. “I’m just trying to piece together what happened to my little girl.”
“Look, Miss Nash,” Dennis said, lowering his tone. “Your baby died. It was sad, tragic even, but you have no right to accuse us of kidnapping.”
“Can you prove that little girl is your birth child?” Slade asked.
Fury radiated from Lucas’s pores. “Of course I can. She was born in the same hospital where I work. I was a resident then and helped deliver her myself.” He jammed his hands on his hips. “And before you ask, yes, I have the birth certificate to prove it.”
“Papers can be doctored,” Slade said with an eyebrow raised. “You’re a doctor. You certainly have the power and connections to do it.”
“This is unbelievable,” Dennis shouted.
The little girl stopped splashing and stared at them, and Diane grabbed her husband’s arms. “Calm down, Dennis. You’re scaring Tiff.”
Dennis cut his eyes toward the little girl, then inhaled a calming breath and spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll calm down when these people get off my property.”
