The Last McCullen

by Rita Herron

  “I’d like to watch the tape.”

  Hawthorne worked his mouth side to side. “Maybe you should wait on the sheriff to return.”

  “I can look at it here or get a warrant and take the tape with me, so why not make it easy on both of us?”

  The deputy seemed to think it over, then muttered agreement. Tia hung up the phone, her hands trembling as she placed them back on her lap. Hawthorne wasted no time. He escorted her through the back to a holding cell. Ryder scanned the space as he followed. Two cells. The other was empty.

  At least she wasn’t being thrown in with some dangerous derelict. He removed the handcuffs before he motioned her inside.

  The cell door closed with a clang. Tia looked small and helpless behind those bars, yet he’d seen the fight in her when she’d confronted her ex.

  “Please find Jordie,” she whispered in a pained voice. “He’s just a few weeks old. He...needs me.”

  Yes, he did.

  But Ryder had seen the worst of society on that last case. The head of the damn ring had seemed like an upstanding citizen. But evil had lurked beneath the surface.

  Did Tia deserve to have her son back?

  For the life of him, he wanted to believe her. Maybe because no kid should grow up thinking his mother had gotten rid of him like Ryder had.

  “I will find the baby.” And he’d put away whoever had taken the child.

  He gestured to the deputy. “The video?”

  The man frowned but led him to a small office across the hall from the cells. Another room was designated for interrogations.

  Ryder took a seat. Seconds later, Hawthorne started the video feed of his initial interview at his office with Tia after her son disappeared.

  Ryder knotted his hands in his lap as he watched the recording.

  Tia paced the interrogation room. “Sheriff, you have to find my baby. I think my ex did something to him.” She looked haggard in a worn T-shirt and jeans, her hair yanked back in a ponytail and her eyes swollen from crying.

  Sheriff Gaines, a robust man with a scar above his left eye, pointed to a chair. “Sit down. Then tell me what happened again.”

  “I don’t want to sit down,” Tia cried. “I want you to find Jordan.”

  Sheriff Gaines jerked a thumb toward the chair, his voice brusque. “I said sit down.”

  Tia heaved a breath and sank into the chair in front of the rickety wooden table. She fidgeted with a tissue, wiping her eyes then shredding it into pieces. “I think Darren is responsible.”

  Sheriff Gaines folded his beefy arms on the table. “Start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

  “For God’s sake, we went through this when I first called you yesterday.” Tia ran a hand through the front of her tangled hair. “Jordie is only six weeks old.” She pressed a hand over her chest. “I fed him at midnight the night before, and he fell asleep in my arms.” A smile curved her mouth as if she was remembering. “He’s so little, and he eats every three hours, so I was exhausted from being up at night.” She looked down at her hands. “I shouldn’t have, but I laid him in the crib, then went to my room and crawled on my bed. I was only going to close my eyes for a minute, but I must have fallen into a deep sleep.”

  Instead of reassuring her that it was okay to rest while her baby slept, the sheriff grunted. “Go on.”

  Guilt streaked her face. “Anyway, a little while later, a noise woke me up.”

  “A noise?” the sheriff asked. “The baby crying?”

  “No.” Tia closed her eyes and rubbed her temple as if she was trying to remember. When she opened her eyes again, she exhaled a shaky breath. “It sounded like a gunshot, but then I realized it was a car. Backfiring. I looked out the window and saw taillights racing away.” She rubbed her arms now as she paced. “Then I went to check on Jordan, but...his crib was empty.”

  A heartbeat passed, the silence thick with tension. “You believe that someone broke into your house and stole your baby while you were asleep?”

  Tia nodded miserably. “I told you that already. I usually put him in the cradle by my bed, but I’d been rocking him in the nursery so I left him alone in there. I...thought I’d hear him if he woke up.”

  The fact that she’d varied her routine must have struck the sheriff as suspicious, because a scowl darkened his face. “So the one night you put him in the other room, he disappears?”

  Tia nodded. “It’s all my fault. I should have put him in the cradle, but I’d barely slept since he was born and I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I see. You were exhausted and tired of dealing with a fussy baby, so you left the baby where you couldn’t hear him,” Sheriff Gaines said.

  “No.” Tia stopped pacing long enough to throw up her hands. “That’s not what I meant! But I thought he’d be safe in his nursery and I was only going to take a nap, and we were alone.” Her voice cracked and she dropped into the chair again. “But someone came in and stole him.”

  The sheriff leaned forward, arms still folded. “Don’t you mean that you were sick of taking care of a crying infant so you wanted to get rid of him? Maybe you lost it and smothered him, then you panicked and buried him in the yard or put him in the trash.”

  “No, God, no!” Horror turned Tia’s skin a pale color. “That’s not what happened. I love my baby—”

  “It happens, Miss Jeffries. Mothers are exhausted, suffering from postpartum depression. They can’t take it anymore and they snap. They shake the baby to get it to be quiet or they put it in the bed a little too hard or—”

  “No!” Tia shouted. “I love my son. I came here for your help, not for you to accuse me of hurting my son.” She launched herself at the man and grabbed his shirt. “You have to do something. Look for him!”

  The sheriff gripped her hands and pried them from his shirt. “Listen, Miss Jeffries, it’ll be easier on you if you cooperate. Tell me what you did with your baby. Maybe he’s still alive and we can save him.”

  Tia sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t do anything with him except feed him and put him to bed. I think my ex took him.”

  “Why would he do that?” Gaines asked.

  “Because he didn’t want a baby in the first place.”

  “But you got pregnant anyway,” the sheriff said in a voice laced with accusations. “You thought if you got pregnant he wouldn’t leave you, didn’t you?” Sheriff Gaines growled. “Then you had the baby and he left anyway, so you did something to the kid and are trying to get revenge by blaming him.”

  Tia shook her head vehemently. “No,” she cried. “Please believe me.”

  The sheriff set her away from him. “I will investigate, Miss Jeffries. In fact, my deputy and I are going to search your place again now.”

  Ryder chewed the inside of his cheek. Gaines was playing tough cop, pushing Tia, just as he might have done.

  But had he ignored the possibility that Tia might be telling the truth?

  Had he even checked into Tia’s ex or canvassed the neighbors to see if anyone had heard that car backfire or seen someone snooping around Tia’s place?

  Ryder’s phone buzzed. He checked the number.

  McCullen.

  Dammit. He hadn’t planned on ever talking to the family.

  But one of them had obviously found him.

  What the hell was he going to do about it?

  Chapter Four

  Ryder checked the video where the sheriff interviewed Darren.

  Hoyt seemed cocky, self-assured. He insisted he hadn’t been in Tia’s house and that he hadn’t taken the baby. He also accused Tia of trying to trap him into marriage, just as he’d told Ryder.

  Had the bastard practiced his story?

  For some reason, the sheriff didn’t push Hoyt. Didn’t pursue his past or
the financial angle.

  Because he’d decided that Tia was the guilty party.

  “Hell, Tia was jealous that I was moving on with my life,” Darren said. “She probably faked the kidnapping to get my attention, hoping I’d come back to her.”

  Damn. The federal agent in him agreed that Darren’s story was plausible.

  But Tia didn’t appear to be in love with Darren—she was only concerned about the baby.

  Although it was true that the parents were always suspects in a child’s kidnapping, disappearance or death. He couldn’t clear her just yet.

  But what if she was telling the truth?

  Just because his parents had sold him didn’t mean this woman had done the same thing. But if she had, he’d make sure she paid.

  He didn’t give a damn if her hair looked like sunshine and her blue eyes poured tears as big as a waterfall.

  Or if she looked terrified and pale. That could be explained from guilt. Criminals or people who committed crimes in a fit of passion often experienced guilt.

  Sometimes they imploded on themselves.

  Unless they were pathological liars or sociopaths.

  But she didn’t fit that profile.

  He had to run background checks on both of them, look at their computers, phone records, talk to neighbors and friends.

  He scrubbed a hand over his bleary eyes, a good night’s sleep beckoning. But the image of Tia in that cell made him decide to put bed on hold for a while, at least until he did some work.

  He shut off the tapes, phoned his boss and requested warrants, then stepped back into the front office. The deputy was leaning back in his desk chair, feet propped on the desk, a grin on his face.

  “Yeah, Martha, I should be there in about an hour.”

  Ryder folded his arms and stared at the man, sending him the silent message to get off the phone.

  The deputy scowled, tilted his head sideways so Ryder couldn’t hear his conversation, then ended the call.

  The idea of Tia sitting alone in a dark cell all night rubbed Ryder the wrong way. “You’re leaving the woman alone in here tonight?”

  Hawthorne frowned. “The night shift deputy is coming in. Why? That woman probably killed her kid. She deserves to rot in prison.”

  Anger shot through Ryder. “Have you ever heard the phrase innocent until proven guilty?”

  Hawthorne barked a laugh. “Yeah, but don’t let those blue eyes fool you.”

  “What makes you so sure she’s the culprit? Why not the baby’s father? He didn’t want a child in the first place.”

  Hawthorne cut his gaze to the side. “I know women, that’s why.”

  Ryder leaned forward, hands on the desk, body coiled with tension. “Just make sure she’s safe in there,” he said in a low growl.

  A muscle ticked in the deputy’s jaw. “I know how to do my job.”

  Ryder gritted his teeth. Small-town sheriffs and deputies disliked the feds encroaching on their territory.

  “Did you need something else?” Hawthorne asked.

  Ryder met his gaze with a stony look. “Darren Hoyt is supposed to come in and file an official report. Let me know if he shows up.”

  Hawthorne gave a clipped nod.

  “Do you have Miss Jeffries and Hoyt’s computers?”

  “The sheriff already looked at them but didn’t find anything.”

  “Phone records?”

  Hawthorne shrugged. “Have to ask Sheriff Gaines.”

  “I will.” But he’d prefer to look at them himself anyway, especially since the deputy and sheriff had already made their decision about Tia’s guilt.

  Ryder tossed his business card on the desk. “Let me know if you hear anything.” He didn’t wait for a response.

  Even if the sheriff had investigated thoroughly, which it didn’t appear he had, Ryder would conduct his own inquiry.

  If Jordan had been kidnapped for money, Tia would have received a ransom call.

  Which meant whoever took him had a different motive.

  Worse—every day this baby was missing meant the chance of finding him diminished.

  * * *

  TIA SHIVERED AS she hunched on the only piece of furniture in the cell—a tiny cot. The low lights in the small hallway barely lit the inside of the tiny barred room. A threadbare blanket lay on top of a single mattress that was so thin you could feel the metal springs beneath it.

  Tia curled her arms around her waist, clenching her fingers into her palms so tightly she felt the pain of her fingernails stabbing her skin.

  She deserved the pain. She was a terrible mother. If she hadn’t fallen asleep, her baby wouldn’t have been taken.

  How could she have been so deep in sleep that she hadn’t heard someone break into the house?

  The sheriff said there were no signs of a break-in.

  But there had to be.

  Unless she’d been so exhausted she’d forgotten to lock the door.

  No...she always locked the door. She was compulsive about it and checked it at least three times a night.

  A squeaking noise alerted her to the fact that someone had opened the door between the cells and the front office. Footsteps echoed on the concrete floor.

  Her stomach knotted. Had Sheriff Gaines returned to make more accusations? To taunt her?

  A big, hulking shadow moved across the dimly lit hall. More footsteps. A breath rattled in the quiet.

  She tightened her hands again in an attempt to hold herself together and braced herself for whatever Gaines or his deputy dished out.

  “Tia?”

  She jerked her head up. Not Gaines’s snide voice. Special Agent Ryder Banks.

  God, had he come back to rescue her from this nightmare?

  He stopped in front of the cell, his big body taking up so much air that she could barely breathe. Then he shoved a notepad and pen through the bars. “I need you to write down all your contacts. The people you work with, your friends, neighbors, anyone you can think of who might vouch for you or who had access to your house.”

  Hope warred with despair. What if it was too late?

  “Tia?” This time his voice was gruff. Commanding. “If you want my help, take the pad and start writing.”

  She pulled herself from her stupor, stood on shaking legs and crossed the small space. Her hand trembled as she grabbed the pad and pen. “You’re going to help me?”

  Silence stretched for a full minute while he stared at her. She felt his scrutiny as if he was dissecting her.

  “I’ll find your son. Then I’ll make whoever kidnapped him pay.”

  The coldness in his tone suggested he hadn’t decided on her innocence yet.

  But at least he was going to investigate. That was a lot more than Gaines had done.

  She sighed, then walked back to the cot, sank onto the mattress and began the list.

  Her coworkers and the volunteers at the shelter came first. Two of her neighbors next.

  “Don’t leave anyone out,” he said.

  She ignored the distrust in his tone. As long as he looked for her son, she could put up with anything. “I won’t. Are you going to have Darren do this, too?”

  “Absolutely.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “You said you run a charity for families in need. Is this for abused women and children?”

  Tia shrugged. “Yes. But it’s also open to anyone who needs help. Sometimes mothers come to us when their husbands or children’s fathers abandon them. They need help finding housing and food and jobs. We’ve also had families in crisis—it could be drug or alcohol related, one of them has lost his job, even a long-term illness where the parent has to go into a hospital for treatment. We work through social services, but we also find temporary foster homes th
rough local churches and provide counseling to help them get back on their feet. Our goal is to keep the family intact or to reunite them if there’s a separation period.”

  “Admirable.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Can you think of anyone you’ve angered? Maybe a father or mother who lost their kids to the system, someone who’d want revenge against you.”

  Tia’s pulse jumped. There were a couple of names.

  “Write them down,” he said as if he’d read her mind.

  Tia nodded, then scribbled every name she could think of, including the hospital staff and attendants as well as Amy, a young delivery nurse, who’d befriended her.

  Finally she handed the agent the list. Her fingers brushed his big hands, and a tingle of something dangerously like attraction shot through her.

  She yanked her hand back quickly. She’d never be foolish enough to fall for another man.

  When she got Jordan back, he would be the only one in her life.

  * * *

  RYDER LEFT TIA, shaken by the spark of electricity he’d felt when she’d touched his hand. Then she’d looked up at him with those damn sea-like blue eyes and he’d thought he would drown in them.

  She had some kind of pull on him.

  A pull he had to ignore.

  He was a loner. Always had been. Always would be. There was no place for a woman or family in his line of work.

  It was still odd, since he wasn’t usually drawn to gun-carrying women who shot at their husbands or to suspects in his cases.

  His reaction had to be due to lack of sleep. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

  He needed that beer and a bed. Although an image of Tia sprawled naked on the sheets with her hair fanned out taunted him.

  He shook the image away.

  The list of names in his hand meant he had work to do. Sleep would have to wait.

  He just prayed Tia would be safe in that cell. At least she couldn’t get herself in any more trouble by killing her ex.

  He bypassed Hawthorne, who was on the telephone again, strode outside to his SUV and headed toward Crossroads. Although it was getting late in the evening, hopefully someone would still be awake.