The Cop's Missing Child

by Karen Whiddon

  Renee nodded, her expression showing nothing but professional interest. “What can I do for you, Ms. Gilley?”

  “I’m here to find out what you’ve learned about the letter.” Another trick Emily had learned was to state things as though they were fact, rather than ask questions. This conveyed both a sense of confidence and of purpose.

  “Nothing, actually.” Renee steepled her fingers on the desk in front of her. “We’ve had very little to go on, and since there was no specific threat—”

  “Oh, but there was,” Emily interrupted firmly. Pulling her copy from her purse, she read the relevant line. “I know what you’ve done. You’ve stolen what is mine and you’ll pay for what you did. Tell the truth, or risk everything.”

  Nodding, Renee leaned forward. “While I appreciate and understand your concern, the letter is too vague. If, for example, it read ‘I’m going to plant a bomb in your garage’ or something, we’d have cause to act. But the wording ‘you’ll pay’ conveys nothing.”

  Biting back an instinctive response, Emily swallowed back her anger. Just because the sheriff spoke factually didn’t mean she didn’t have a private, visceral reaction. As a woman, she must. Emily knew she had to appeal to this if she wanted help.

  “Do you have children, Renee?” Emily asked softly.

  A quick shadow appeared in Renee’s eyes, then vanished. “No, I don’t.”

  She held up her hand as Emily opened her mouth to speak. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get where you’re coming from.”

  “Then how can you tell me it’s not a threat?”

  “Because the letter did not directly threaten you or your son,” Renee said gently. “And if you read it again, you’ll see there is absolutely no specific threat in there—at all.”

  Incredulous, Emily had to force herself to close her mouth. “You honestly don’t believe ‘you’ll pay for taking him’ puts me—or him—in any danger?”

  “Ms. Gilley—”

  Bulldozing through whatever platitude the other woman was about to offer, Emily stood. “Ryan is adopted, Renee. I know you had no way of knowing that, but I can’t help feel this letter is somehow related to that.”

  A tiny frown appeared between the sheriff’s perfectly arched eyebrows. She sat up straighter, giving Emily a piercing look. “All right. I’ll check it out. I’ll need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Of course.” Emily watched while Renee grabbed a pen and pad.

  “Did you go through a service, or was the adoption privately arranged?”

  “It was private.” Emily managed to sound confident. “My former husband—I’m a widow—handled everything. But I located all the records he gave me back then and would be glad to provide you with copies.”

  “I’d like that.” The sheriff stood, holding out her hand. “Just bring them by at your earliest convenience.”

  Standing also, Emily shook hands. It was almost time for her to head to work. “Thank you. I will.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “Oh, I have one last question.” Turning in the doorway, Emily tried for both a casual expression and carefree voice. “What do you know about Mac Riordan?”

  To her surprise, Renee laughed. “He’s an okay sort of guy. He’s new in town, and I don’t know him that well, though my friend Joe speaks highly of him. Mac used to be a cop, up in Albany, which is where Joe works. I heard Mac kind of spooked you a bit.”

  “He did, a little.” With a cheery wave and a manufactured smile, Emily let herself out, sighing. The damn letter had succeeded in erasing nearly four and a half years of security, all at once. Mac Riordan’s appearance had made things even worse. After all, Albany was only several hours north of Manhattan.

  She didn’t just have her own security to worry about. She had to keep her son safe. Clearly she had a decision to make—and quickly.

  Once at work, Emily pushed the letter from her mind...and Mac Riordan, as well. Though as her lunch hour approached and she prepared to head out for her daily walk, she couldn’t help but think of him. Surely he’d taken the hint and wouldn’t show up in the park today.

  If he did, she’d have to accept that he was stalking her. And then she’d have to quit her job, pick up Ryan and go home and pack, running away in the middle of the night without a single goodbye to anyone.

  Heart pounding and feeling queasy at the thought, she shook her head. Maybe if she tried to think logically, it was possible the man simply liked her. She’d felt a sort of electrical connection, despite having all her barriers up. From the way he’d looked at her, blue eyes dark and full of promise, he’d felt it, too. Exhaling, she laced up her sneakers and nevertheless prayed he wouldn’t be there.

  He wasn’t. The pressure in her chest and the sick feeling in her stomach eased a little as she enjoyed a quiet, uninterrupted walk. The sun shone brightly; a few white, fluffy clouds dotted the sky like sheep; and birds sang, dogs barked, and people all around her enjoyed the bright spring day.

  After, perspiring slightly and feeling pretty good, she stepped into Sue’s Catfish Hut and greeted her friends. As she took her usual seat, she couldn’t help but do a quick scan of the restaurant for a sight of those broad shoulders and dark gray hair.

  Again, Mac Riordan was conspicuously absent. For the first time all day, she allowed herself to relax, even though a tiny part of her felt disappointed at his absence. She enjoyed her meal, chatting with Jayne and Tina and sipping iced tea.

  She went back to work with a light step, allowing herself to believe everything just might turn out to be all right. By the end of the workday, she felt almost normal.

  After helping close up the veterinary clinic, she hopped in her car and headed over to the day care.

  As soon as she arrived, Ryan flung himself at her, holding on to her legs with a fierce grip.

  “Finally,” he groused. “It took you forever to pick me up. I’m all played out.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words. The after school programs at Mims’s Day Care tended to lean toward organized games, most of them physical. The tall trees made the heavily shaded playground the perfect place for youngsters to run off pent-up aggressions or simply play.

  “Well, now you get to rest,” she said. “Grab your stuff and we’ll go.”

  He did as she asked, snatching up his camo backpack and waving goodbye to his friends.

  Once she’d buckled him into his booster seat, she climbed in the front and started the engine.

  “How’s a tuna casserole sound for dinner?” This should be a sure hit since he always loved the one she made, using the leftover mac and cheese from last night and adding a can of peas and a can of tuna.

  “No. I want a Good Times meal.” Looking mutinous, little Ryan crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “With fries. No tuna.”

  Tired as she might be, still Emily managed to summon a smile for her son. “Rough day at school?” she asked, leaning over the backseat and ruffling his hair.

  “Yep. And at Mim’s, too. I’m tired of playing.”

  This was a new one. “Tired of playing? You? Why?”

  “Because they always make me be the bad guy.”

  Emily blinked. “Really? Why?”

  He looked away, his lower lip quivering. “I dunno. Mommy, can we please get a Good Times meal?”

  Though she’d planned on making the casserole and eating it for a couple of days, she relented. “Sure, I guess I’ll just get a salad or something.”

  Apparently everyone’s children wanted Good Times meals. The drive-thru line had six cars already waiting. Emily debated going inside, but judging from the crowded interior, she’d be better off waiting in her car—especially since Ryan kept fidgeting, whining and protesting he was too big for a booster seat, even though the law stated he had to weigh a hundred pounds before graduated to just being buckled into the seat belt.

  “You’ve still got some growing to do,” she informed him.

  “I haven’t
been weighed lately,” he said huffily. “Now I’m a big boy. I bet I weigh a hundred and five now.”

  Considering him solemnly, she somehow kept from smiling. “Okay,” she finally said. “When we get home, we’ll check.”

  He pumped his little fist up in the air. “And next time I go in the car, I can buckle up like a big person?”

  “If you weigh over one hundred.” Which she knew he didn’t.

  “And I can ride in the front with you?”

  “We’ll see.” Finally, they reached the window. Placing her order, she glanced back at her son, who’d finally fallen quiet. He was staring at something in the parking lot. As she followed his gaze, she recoiled. Mac Riordan stood next to a large white pickup truck, talking to another man. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t seen her.

  Struggling to hide her fear, she handed the money to the window cashier, accepted her order and put the car in Drive. Heart pounding, she pulled away, using only her rearview mirror to make sure she hadn’t been spotted.

  All the way home, jumpy and unsettled, she kept checking to make sure they weren’t being followed. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred, and they pulled into the driveway slowly.

  Not for the first time, Emily wished she could afford an automatic garage door opener. How much simpler and safer it would be to just hit a button, pull into the concealed garage and close the door behind you, all before even getting out of the car.

  If she stayed in Anniversary, she’d have to put money aside to buy one.

  Parking, she gave the rearview mirror one final check before unlocking the doors. The smell of fast-food made her stomach growl, and she was glad she’d opted for a grilled chicken sandwich instead of a salad. She needed something a bit more substantial today, especially since she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

  Making decisions had never been her strong suit. She literally had to force herself to act at times—especially if she didn’t have a clear picture of potential repercussions.

  She wished she could be one of those kinds of people who could go with their gut, trusting their instinct. Not her...she always required the facts.

  Helping Ryan out of the car, she took his hand. Together, they walked up the sidewalk to the front of their circa 1960 rental house. Then she realized something was wrong.

  “Hold on.” Grasping Ryan’s hand firmly, she stopped. “Don’t move.”

  Though she’d locked it securely that morning, the front door was slightly ajar and obviously unlocked. Someone had been—or was still—inside her house.

  Chapter 3

  Since Emily wouldn’t hire him as her bodyguard, Mac knew it was time to go to plan B. He sauntered into the Anniversary Police Department, intent on asking Renee for a job. To his surprise, she sat at the front desk in the receptionist’s chair, typing up something on a decrepit manual typewriter.

  “You got a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Pinning him with her direct gaze, she dragged a hand through her short hair. “Perfect timing, Riordan. I’ve been meaning to call you and ask you to come in. Follow me,” she ordered, jumping to her feet and giving Mac a hard look as though she thought he might run off.

  When they reached her office, she took a seat behind her desk and indicated he should sit in what he thought of as the suspect’s chair...interesting.

  Taking a seat, he leaned back, crossing his arms. He’d let her go first, since obviously she had something on her mind.

  In typical cop fashion, Renee got right to the point.

  “How well do you know Emily Gilley?”

  “I’ve only met her one time, in the park.” It was a truthful answer—especially since Renee didn’t need to know about all the research Mac had done to find her, and more importantly, to find Ryan.

  “You seemed very interested in her.”

  He spread his hands. “What can I say? She’s a pretty lady.” Again, he only spoke the truth.

  Renee seemed to sense this—or at least, he hoped she did. “You know, Riordan, I’m just doing my job. I actually believe you.”

  “Good to know.” He allowed a slight smile. “I did offer to be her bodyguard. She turned me down flat.”

  Staring, Renee narrowed her eyes. Then, apparently deciding he was serious, she dipped her head, grinning. “I should tell you that I ran a check on you and talked to your former partner back in Albany. Joe and I go way back. He had nothing bad to say about you.”

  It was unsurprising. Joe was his best friend, and Mac had been a very good police officer. He would still be, if he hadn’t left his job. But Joe had understood that finding Ryan had become more important to him than anything else.

  “And on top of that,” Renee continued, “Joe put me through to your lieutenant. Just like our mutual friend Joe, your former boss speaks very highly of you.”

  “Good to know.” Aware of his precarious position, he debated whether or not now would be a good time to broach his proposal. On the one hand, if Emily and Ryan were in serious danger, then he couldn’t afford to wait. On the other, he didn’t want to do anything that would make Renee even more suspicious of him.

  To his surprise, Renee broached the subject for him. Dragging her hand through her cropped blond hair, she tapped her pen several times on her pad of paper. “Emily’s scared. I’m beginning to think she might have a good reason to be. Unfortunately, we’re really shorthanded here.”

  Though her words kick-started his heart into overdrive, he held himself perfectly still and merely nodded.

  Appropriately encouraged, she continued. “I know you have a trucking business to run and all, but would you consider coming to work for me part-time? Like a few hours a week?”

  While he pretended to consider her offer, she tossed out what for him clenched the deal. “I’d really like you to handle the Emily Gilley case exclusively.”

  * * *

  A thousand thoughts raced through Emily’s mind. First and foremost, she had to keep her son safe.

  “Don’t move,” she repeated.

  “But I’m hungry,” Ryan started to whine, raising his face to hers. Something he saw in her expression must have gotten through to him, because he instantly went silent.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” he whispered, his blue eyes huge in his small face. “Is everything okay?”

  No, everything was not okay—though she didn’t say that out loud to her five-year-old. “I don’t know yet,” she said instead, moving them backward. “I think we need to get back in the car and call the sheriff.”

  She wouldn’t panic. She couldn’t, even though she knew if her front door was open that someone had been in her house.

  Backing out of her driveway, she drove to the corner gas station and mini-mart and parked.

  “Go ahead and start on your Good Times meal, honey,” she told Ryan, handing the brightly decorated box back to him. “Remember, no toy until you finish your meal.”

  She waited until he was happily munching away before taking a deep breath and pulling her phone from her purse.

  Keeping the doors locked and the engine running, she made the call. When she asked to be put through directly to Renee, the dispatcher immediately did so—yet another difference between living in a large city and a small town.

  Speaking quietly and calmly so she wouldn’t alarm Ryan, she told Renee what had happened. “I didn’t go inside,” she said. “I have no idea if anyone is still in there.”

  “That’s a wise move,” Renee said. “Where are you now?”

  Emily relayed her location.

  “Stay put. We’ll meet you there in less than five minutes,” the sheriff promised. “The car will be an unmarked cruiser. No lights or sirens.”

  “All right.” Disconnecting the call, Emily shoved her phone back into her purse and eyed her sandwich. It now looked wilted and completely unappetizing, though probably due more to the circumstances than the actual appearance. Even the thought of trying to eat made her stomach roil.

  Law enforc
ement pulled up just over four minutes later, the unmarked Chevrolet still looking official and police-like. It was not Renee, Emily realized, but another officer, which was unusual since the Anniversary Police Department was so small.

  Squinting, Emily tried to make him out. The passenger door opened, and a familiar dark-haired, broad-shouldered man emerged. She squinted, certain she wasn’t seeing correctly. But as he approached, she realized that Mac Riordan, while not decked out in a crisply pressed navy police uniform, wore a police badge pinned to his button-down shirt.

  As he walked toward her car, she was struck once again by the way he exuded masculinity. He was one of those men who, with one glance at their steely gaze, could make a woman feel safe and protected.

  Foolishness, she chided herself. Nevertheless, her mouth went dry as he approached. Mac Riordan looked...different. She waited in silence until he reached her.

  As if he sensed her confusion, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m working for the sheriff’s office part-time. Renee asked me to handle your case.”

  Stunned, at first Emily didn’t know how to respond. “But—”

  Interrupting, his rich voice washed over her like waves in a storm. “I can assure you I’m completely qualified. I spent ten years at the Albany Police Department, working my way up from patrol to homicide detective.”

  “I’m sure you are,” she said faintly.

  Relief warring with trepidation, she opened her door.

  But as she started to get out of her car, Mac waved her back.

  “I want you to follow me, all right? I’m going to ask you to remain in your car while I make sure your home is safe.”

  Swallowing hard, Emily nodded. She had to be careful to hide any evidence of fear from her son, who watched the exchange with wide, curious eyes.

  “Why are the police here, Mommy?”

  Putting the car in Drive, she again checked her mirrors before pulling away. “Because I think someone might have been inside our house, honey.”