“It’s your call. You know the area better than I do,” the guy responded. Malone? That’s what August had called him. Maybe they were old military buddies. Quinn would have to ask. After they got out of the woods.
“Let’s walk to my place. I’ll come back for the SUV after law enforcement gets here.”
“You called the police?” Quinn had promised Tabitha that she wouldn’t. She’d kept that promise the same way she’d kept so many others. She was big on that. Keeping promises. Mostly because her father had never kept his. Not to her mother. Not to her. Not to any of his children, friends or relatives.
Danner McConnell had been a conman. A liar. Sometimes even a thief. He’d been charming, too. Funny. Always at every dance recital or school performance. He’d liked people, and people had liked him, but he’d never made a promise he hadn’t broken. He’d never sacrificed anything for his family. He’d died of a massive heart attack Quinn’s senior year of high school. She’d been sad, and she’d been relieved. For the first time in nearly three decades, Quinn’s mother had been free to live her life happily. No husband scheming and jostling to get whatever he could from whomever he could. No explanations needed for money borrowed and never repaid, tools taken and not returned. The jovial, sweet guy who’d mowed the lawn for the neighbor and cheered from every audience was what Quinn tried to remember, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t quite forget all the promises broken and all the nights she’d heard her mom crying in her room.
“I called the police when I found your Jeep. The door was open, the keys were in the ignition and you were gone. The police seemed like a good idea,” August replied as they walked back the way Quinn had just come. Apparently, she hadn’t been sprinting toward his house. Who knew where she and Jubilee would have ended up if August and Malone hadn’t stopped them.
“I guess they were, but Tabitha—”
“Is just like our father was. You know it. I know it. She’s a liar, a thief, a con woman.”
“Was those things. People change.”
“Some people change,” he grumbled. “Our sister isn’t one of them.”
“Jubilee is her daughter,” Quinn retorted. “How about you have a little respect for that?”
To his credit, August didn’t say another word about Tabitha. “Sometimes we have to break promises to keep our word, Quinn,” he said instead. “You’re going to have to tell the police everything she told you.”
“I can’t do that. Tabitha said—”
“A promise isn’t a good one to keep if it gets you killed,” Malone broke in, lifting Jubilee from her arms. “Whatever she said, whatever she told you, doesn’t matter in light of the fact that you’ve been followed here. The more the police know, the easier it will be for them to figure out what’s going on.”
He was right. She knew it, so she kept her mouth shut, and trudged behind August, Malone right beside her. Jubilee seemed comfortable enough in his arms, her head resting against his chest, the candy still clutched in her hand.
She’d felt heavy, but Quinn knew she was small for her age. Probably an inch shorter than the smallest kid in Quinn’s kindergarten class. Someone had painted her fingernails pink with tiny flowers in the middle of each nail. She had a pretty diamond and gold necklace that Quinn thought was the real deal, a beautiful coat that had probably been purchased at some fancy designer shop, patent leather shoes, and the look of a child who had been given just about anything and everything she wanted.
Except for the bruise.
That was the one discordant note in an otherwise perfect picture, and it made Quinn’s heart ache. To have everything you wanted and nothing that mattered? That was the cruelest irony of all.
The faint sound of sirens drifted from somewhere in the distance, the local police responding to August’s call.
Or the state police?
Either way, the promise Quinn had made Tabitha had been broken. There was no way to undo that, and Quinn didn’t know if she’d have wanted to. Despite what she’d said to August, she knew Tabitha had looked her square in the eye and lied.
There’s nothing to worry about, Quinn. You’re not breaking any laws, and my husband couldn’t care less about Jubilee. Not his kid. Not his concern. It’s me that he wants. Plus, he’s got no idea that I came here. Vegas is far away, and he doesn’t know I have a sister in Maine.
Maybe not, but he’d figured it out, and Quinn was sure her sister had known he would. Tabitha had been edgy and anxious when she’d stood on Quinn’s doorstep. She’d refused to go inside, refused coffee, tea, food. She’d kissed Jubilee once, told her to be the best girl she could and taken off before Quinn could ask questions.
It had all happened fast, and Quinn knew that was purposeful, knew that her sister was protecting herself more than she was protecting her daughter. She had to have understood just how easily her husband could find her and Jubilee. She should have warned Quinn. She should have told her to be prepared for anything. Instead, she’d smoothed things out, made them nicer than they were.
Just like August had said—she was like their father.
Her daughter could have died because of it.
Her daughter...
Malone had called Jubilee by a different name.
Kaitlyn? Kendal?
Quinn had been too terrified to really listen to what he was saying. She needed to ask more questions, she needed to get some answers. First, though, she needed to get to August’s house and away from whoever might still be lurking in the woods.
* * *
They made quick time, heading east on a path August led them to. It wouldn’t take long to get back to the ranch-style house that stood in the middle of acres of corn fields and pastures. That was good, because Malone didn’t like the feeling he was getting. Trouble. It seemed to pulse around them, mixing with the howling of sirens and the soft rustle of leaves and pad of feet.
“Where’d you tell the police to meet us?” he asked. “If they’re at the Jeep, you might want to call and let them know we’re heading toward your place.”
“I gave them my address. They’ll be there when we arrive.”
“Do you think they’ll take Ju...” Quinn’s voice trailed off. She must have realized it wasn’t a good question to ask in front of the five-year-old. The kid had already been through a lot. She’d been thrust into the arms a stranger, driven from Maine to Maryland. Everything she’d known, everyone who was familiar, was gone.
She didn’t cry, though. Didn’t complain. Didn’t ask for Quinn, her mother or her father. She just rested her head against Malone’s chest, the bag of candy he’d given her hanging from her hand.
Odd. Maybe even a little alarming. Most of the kids he brought out of traumatic situations wanted the familiar, begged for whomever it was they were closest to. This kid didn’t seem as if she wanted anyone or anything. Except, maybe, to be left alone.
If she really was Boone’s daughter, he’d have his work cut out for him. Building a bond with a child who didn’t seem to have bonded with anyone wasn’t going to be easy.
Then again, maybe she had bonded. Maybe she was in shock or so terrified she was afraid to speak.
He patted her narrow shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay, kid,” he said, and she looked square in his eyes. For just a second, just enough time to make his pulse jump, he saw Boone in her face. Something about the tilt of her eyes, the freckles that were definitely on her nose. It was enough to make him want to put her in his SUV and drive her straight to HEART headquarters, keep her safe there until Boone arrived.
He couldn’t. Not without getting into a boatload of trouble with the local PD and with Chance. Malone’s boss liked to play by the rules. He liked to do things by the book. He did not like to get on the bad side of law enforcement.
They trekked up a small hill, pushing through thick foliage. Despite her short stature, Quinn kept up, her pale face and panting breaths the only sign that she was wearing down.
&nb
sp; “You doing okay?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Dandy,” she panted, the response almost making him smile.
“I hope you feel that way when we get to the house,” August grumbled. “You could go to jail, sis. You could be charged with kidnapping. You know that, right?”
“I didn’t kidnap Jubilee. Tabitha asked me to bring her to her father.”
“Tabitha. Right.” The disgust in August’s voice was obvious.
Malone didn’t question it.
He didn’t want any part in family drama.
He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. He loved his siblings and his cousins, and he hadn’t minded helping to raise them, but he’d done his time, and now he enjoyed the freedom that came with being single.
Most of the time he enjoyed it.
Lately, he’d been a little tired of returning to his empty apartment, sitting up late at night, dozens of memories filling his head. He had his demons. A man couldn’t do the kind of work Malone did without them. Some days, he wished that he had someone to fight them with.
That was the truth.
One he didn’t like to admit even to himself.
“Tabitha really has changed,” Quinn whispered as if somehow that would keep Jubilee from hearing.
August snorted.
“She has!”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you’re sitting at the local sheriff’s office explaining why you’ve transported a missing child across state lines.”
“What are you talking about, August? I did what her mother asked me to do.”
“If this little girl is Daniel Boone Anderson’s daughter, then Tabitha is not her mother. I’ve done a little research while I was waiting. Anderson’s daughter was kidnapped by his former wife.”
Jubilee stiffened, her muscles going taut, her little hands pushing against Malone’s chest. She might not be saying a word, but she understood everything they were talking about, and it was upsetting her.
“That’s enough, McConnell,” Malone said quietly. He didn’t want to scare the little girl more than she’d already been.
August didn’t get the hint. He just kept talking. “Nothing to say to that, sis? You’ve always been quick to defend people. Even people who don’t deserve it. Tabitha is not just a thief and a liar. She’s a kidn—”
“I said,” Malone cut in, “that’s enough.”
“Not nearly,” August replied.
“How about you stop thinking about your vendetta against your sister long enough to consider the kid’s feelings?” Malone growled.
That shut August up.
Up ahead, blue-and-white lights flashed through the trees, the tinny sound of a police radio drifting on the chilly night air.
“Looks like they’re there,” August said. “I’ll run ahead and fill them in.”
He sprinted forward, and Quinn muttered something Malone couldn’t hear.
“What’s that?” he asked, glancing in her direction. Strobe lights splashed across her face. There were scrapes on her neck and on her cheeks. Probably from hiding in the tree throw and running through the woods.
“Nothing I want to repeat in front of Jubilee.” She took the little girl from his arms, hugged her tight. “Everything is going to be okay, sweetie. I know it will be.”
She couldn’t know it. Not with any certainty. Life played out the way it did. God did what He would. All they could really do was trust that He had things in control.
Malone didn’t correct her.
There wasn’t any sense in that.
Besides, Jubilee deserved a little comfort before she got handed over to more strangers.
And then to Boone?
Malone hoped so. That was the goal. Get her back to her biological father.
If she was Boone’s kid.
One way or another, the police would figure things out. Before they did, they’d probably hand Jubilee over to Child Protective Services. Which was a shame, because Boone wouldn’t be in-country for another...Malone glanced at his watch...twenty-nine and a half hours. He’d want to see the girl as soon as he arrived. That might be difficult if CPS secreted her away.
Still...
If she was Boone’s kid?
That would be something.
Everyone who worked for HEART knew how long and hard Boone had hunted for his daughter. She’d disappeared while he’d been overseas, serving his country. His first wife had joined a cult and taken their newborn baby with her. By the time Boone returned to the States, everything he’d thought he’d had was gone—his wife, kid, money. All of it had gone to the cult.
He’d hired a lawyer, petitioned for custody, but his wife had gone so deep into the cult it had been difficult to find her. She’d died of a drug overdose a few months later, their daughter taken by members of the cult. Despite the efforts of police and FBI, she’d never been found.
Eventually the case had gone cold, but Boone hadn’t given up. Even after he’d married again, he’d kept looking.
If this was his daughter, all those years of believing she’d eventually be found, all those years of following dead-end leads, tracking down friends of friends of his deceased wife, would pay off. All that hope that Boone had held out, all the belief and faith he’d poured into the search? It would be worth it.
That would be nice to see.
Malone considered himself a cynic, a little rough-edged and definitely more logical than emotional, but even he liked a good story and a happy ending.
If Jubilee was Boone’s little girl, that would be the kind of happy ending everyone at HEART worked for. A coup for the entire team; and something that would be celebrated by everyone.
If...
The story Quinn had told her brother didn’t jive with what Malone knew. According to Quinn, the five-year-old had been living with a real estate broker named Jarrod Williams. If he had any ties to the cult Boone’s first wife had joined, Chance hadn’t been able to find it.
A little more time would bring everything to light. It usually did. For now, they had to keep track of Jubilee, make certain that she didn’t disappear again, and convince the police that she really could be Boone’s child.
He glanced at Quinn again, her small frame drowning in the oversize sweatshirt, her hair just brushing its collar. If she hadn’t called her brother, if she hadn’t told him when to expect her, she might still be hiding from the men who’d followed her from Maine.
Or worse.
She might be dead.
They’d have to make sure she stayed safe, too.
They?
He was on vacation.
As soon as Chance showed up, he was going back to it.
Until he showed up, though, Malone would stick around. He always completed his missions. This time would be no different. He just hoped that finishing it didn’t mean sticking around for days or weeks. That seemed to be the way things went—he agreed to help for a few hours and ended up helping for a lot longer.
He pushed through a thick stand of trees, stepping off the path and into a small field that butted up against a wide well-manicured yard. The small ranch house August lived in was just ahead, the glow of the porch light faded beneath the onslaught of emergency lights. Three police cars were parked in the driveway, and two officers stood on the porch, talking to August.
“Looks like this is it,” Quinn said so quietly he almost didn’t hear. Then she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and marched toward them.
THREE
No record of Tabitha McConnell ever giving birth.
No adoption records.
No evidence that there is any connection between Jubilee and your sister.
The words spilled out of the mouth of the stunning brunette who sat across the table from Quinn. Flawless skin, beautiful tailored suit, Special Agent Veronica Spellings looked like a model and acted exactly like what she was—a federal investigator. She’d arrived an hour ago, and she’d been all business ever since. Question
s. Jotted notes. Sympathetic looks mixed with a few raised eyebrows.
“Take a look at this,” she said, sliding a paper across August’s kitchen table, her dark eyes devoid of emotion. She had short nails and long fingers, the diamond ring that glinted on her left hand almost gaudy in comparison to the woman’s conservative suit.
Quinn lifted the paper, eyeing the colored photo of a pretty blonde, a tall red-haired man and an infant. The woman held the baby as though she wasn’t quite comfortable with it, her smile a little forced. She had dark circles under her eyes and the look of someone who was deeply unhappy. Beside her, the man stood grinning at the camera. His hand cupped the woman’s shoulder, and the joy in his face was undeniable.
“That’s Megan and Daniel Boone Anderson, and their daughter, Kendal. The picture was taken a month before Megan and Kendal disappeared. Megan died a few months later. Kendal has been missing ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“That was five years ago. The baby would be Jubilee’s age now. Mr. Anderson has moved on, of course. He has a family. Children, but he’s still desperate to find his daughter. He’s never stopped looking for her.” Agent Spellings eyed Quinn expectantly.
Quinn knew she was supposed to respond. Maybe with a gasp or a denial—No way! The baby in the picture isn’t Jubilee.
She couldn’t deny what she didn’t know, though.
She wanted to believe Tabitha, but the evidence Agent Spellings had laid out was undeniable. Up until Tabitha had moved to Nevada a year and a half ago, she hadn’t had a child. Friends at her old apartment had never seen her with a little girl. Her coworkers hadn’t ever heard her speak about being a mother.
The FBI had moved fast, gathering information a lot more quickly than Quinn ever could have, and the information indicated that Tabitha had lied.
Quinn couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t brush it under the carpet and pretend it didn’t exist. But, she wouldn’t regret the decision she’d made, either. Jubilee deserved to be with someone who loved her, who had been desperately seeking her for years. If she was Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, she deserved to be part of his family.
0373447477 (R) Page 3
