Tin God

by Stacy Green

  “What about the baby’s father?”

  Jaymee stilled. Her gaze darted to Cage and then back to Nick. She licked her lips until they gleamed beneath the sixty-watt bulb hanging over her rickety table. “He took off. Had a career ahead of him.”

  She was lying. Her fast words and lack of eye contact gave her away. Nick looked at Cage, but his brother-in-law remained stone-faced. Fine. Nick would let them keep this secret. For now.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Hannah’s House.”

  Nick rocked back in the unsteady booth. “The unwed mother’s home Reverend Holden Wilcher founded? A lot of the contributions from his television show go to Hannah’s.”

  “Hannah’s offers adoption counseling, provides a place to stay, tutoring if needed,” Jaymee said. “I stayed there for months. Did home schooling, went through adoption counseling.”

  Her lips had gone white. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “I named her Sarah. She was born just a week before my eighteenth birthday.”

  “What adoption agency did you go through?”

  “Didn’t have to. Holden Wilcher and Paul go way back. When I got in trouble, Paul called Holden. He wanted me hidden away and taken care of. So that’s what Holden did. Brought me into Hannah’s and set me up with a social worker to handle the adoption.”

  “Debra Davies,” Nick said.

  “You got it.” Jaymee’s voice snagged. “She said she had a great family who’d been waiting on a baby for a long time–that they couldn’t go through an agency because the mother had Crohn’s disease. Went on and on about how it wasn’t fair and how my pregnancy was this couple’s gift from God.” Fresh tears squeezed from her eyes. “I didn’t want to give Sarah away, but I didn’t think I could take care of her. And everyone said it was best. For Sarah.”

  “Who’s everyone?” Nick asked.

  “My father. The counselors. And Reverend Penn Gereau.” She spat the name like venom. “I thought he might understand, but he was just like the others. He said the unselfish thing to do was to give her to those hopeful parents. So I let her go.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nick didn’t know what else to say. “What about your mother?”

  “She followed Paul’s lead. Too afraid not to.” Jaymee rubbed her eyes with her fist.

  “How does Lana come into all this? Did she support you through the pregnancy?” Nick looked at Cage. “What about your parents? I can’t believe they would turn Jaymee out.”

  “She didn’t tell any of us. Mom and Dad still don’t know.”

  Jaymee finally looked Nick in the eye. “Please keep it that way. They don’t need to know.”

  Nick nodded.

  “I didn’t tell Lana until she brought me to Jackson. Cage, either.”

  Nick dug into the recesses of his brain. He’d been at Lana’s apartment when the collect call came from Jaymee all those years ago. Lana hadn’t asked her many questions–just sent money via Western Union and told her to get to Jackson. Jaymee was an old friend in trouble, she’d said. Nick was chasing a story when Jaymee arrived–the one that ended up breaking his career wide open.

  Nothing rocks a conservative state like a dirty politician, and Nick had managed to uncover evidence of one of Mississippi’s Supreme Court justices paying for sex while actively campaigning for a crackdown on prostitution in Jackson. The judge, an assistant district attorney, and two aides were nailed with a private ring of high-end escorts. Nick catapulted from a beat reporter to star investigator and never looked back. When Jaymee arrived on Lana’s doorstep, he’d barely noticed.

  “No wonder she went into a tailspin when you showed up.”

  “At first she said there was nothing I could do to contest the adoption because in the state of Mississippi, once you sign the papers, the deal is done.”

  “At first?”

  “When I told her how it happened, how I’d worked exclusively with the social worker and never saw the attorney, she flipped out. Said I should have dealt with both. I didn’t know!” Jaymee smacked her hands against the table.

  “I was so depressed.” Jaymee wiped her face with the back of her shaking hand. “Lana had never heard of the social worker or the attorney I used. I told her Holden had set that all up.”

  “And Lana took that information and ran with it,” Cage said.

  “She somehow gained access to the adoption records. There were none for Sarah. Then she contacted Hannah’s and talked to them about the agencies they work with and how they handle private adoptions. She said they refer anyone who’s interested in a private adoption to some big-shot Jackson attorney. I don’t remember the name, but she talked to him, and he had no record of the social worker or a match for Sarah.”

  Nick tried to make sense of what she was saying. “So Hannah’s House had to have known your adoption was illegal?”

  “That’s the real kicker,” Cage said. “When Wilcher brought Jaymee to Hannah’s House, he said she was a special case–that he was doing a favor for a friend. Said he’d be helping with a private adoption. He found the social worker. He found the attorney.”

  “And Hannah’s policy is only to counsel, not to get legally involved,” Jaymee said. “Once the mother decides to give her baby up for adoption, they’ll connect her with a social worker who then recommends an adoption agency. In my case, they just gave me room and board because Holden was their benefactor, and I was his charity case. They stayed out of the way.”

  “And when Lana checked, they had no record of Debra Davies, right?” Nick said. “Did you ever meet with the social worker at Hannah’s?”

  “Never.” Jaymee covered her eyes with unsteady hands. “My father or Holden always took me to meet her, usually at a restaurant.”

  “You think your father knew the adoption was illegal?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t think he cared as long as his name was left out of it,” Jaymee said. “Paul’s reputation comes first. Always.”

  “What about Gereau?”

  “I’m sure he knew. He’s almost as far up Wilcher’s ass as my father is.” Jaymee wilted into the bench. She suddenly looked so pale Nick thought she might pass out. “Why did I trust them?”

  Cage knelt beside her and wrapped his arm around Jaymee’s small shoulders. “You were young and terrified. We’ve been through this.”

  Jaymee shrugged him off. She squeezed between Cage’s bulk and the table and then stumbled to stare out the small window over the sink. Her round cheeks flushed pink, and tears dripped from her thick eyelashes. Nick felt bad about pushing her, but he needed to know the truth.

  “So Lana kept searching?”

  “Yeah.” Jaymee grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. It shook as she drank. “At first we didn’t want to believe Wilcher had done anything illegal. Maybe he’d been taken in too. But his involvement is the only thing that made sense.”

  An electric charge rushed through Nick, lit up from the realization of what Lana had been trying to get him to investigate. “The Saint of Jackson is dealing dirty adoptions.”

  “Stupid nickname,” Jaymee’s voice came out a near-growl. “Wilcher’s the damned devil.”

  Cage sat down across from Nick. “When she couldn’t find Sarah’s adoption on file, Lana was sure the social worker had a shady attorney in her pocket. Probably duped the adoptive parents, too. Made it her mission to prove the adoption was illegal even before Jaymee came back to Roselea.”

  “Why did you come back?” Nick asked. “Why didn’t you stay as far away from your father as possible?”

  Jaymee’s face darkened. “Paul can be very persuasive. Said I was ruining Lana’s life and interfering with her relationship. Promised me he’d help get me on my feet, give me one last chance.”

  “And?”

  “I spent four days at home. My mother had to walk a tightrope around Paul, but she tried to be there for me. Tried to tell me I could still start fresh, have a good life. I started to thi
nk maybe she was right.” She took another shaky sip of water. “Then Paul told me to pack up again; he’d found me a place. Brought me out here, paid the first month’s rent for the lot and the trailer. Told me this was my fresh start and to stay out of their lives.”

  She crushed the red Solo cup. A harsh, dry sob escaped her open lips, her leaking eyes clenched against the misery. “Eighteen and completely on my own. My brother Darren was in college, and I couldn’t interrupt his life. So I got the job at Sallie’s and started cleaning houses. Lana kept trying to find Debra Davies. Thought that was our best chance at getting to Wilcher. She refused to give up.”

  Her bare feet shuffled against the worn tile as she paced. She rubbed her hands on her bare arms leaving red marks on her fair skin.

  Cage moved to go to her, but Nick beat him to it. He caught Jaymee by the shoulders. The muscles in her arms were taut beneath his hands. “Did Lana ever talk about Royce Newton?”

  “No. Most of our conversations were either by pay phone or through cryptic messages at the diner. We had to keep everything from Paul.” She moved out of his grip.

  “You said you never thought about any of this being a motive for her murder. Why did you say you were sorry to Lana at the funeral?”

  “Because she’d been consumed with helping me instead of being happily married to you. I’d tried to tell her to back off–that I would scrape together the money for a private investigator. I knew you two fought, and I wouldn’t let her tell you anything. I caused so much trouble.”

  “Lana was loyal to her friends.” Cage spoke from behind him.

  “He’s right,” Nick said. “And trust me, I caused most of the trouble in our marriage. I wasn’t there when I should have been.”

  “I got Lana killed, didn’t I?” Jaymee slumped forward, her head coming to rest on Nick’s chest. Her hair smelled like vanilla, her body hot against his. Her small frame rattled with hoarse sobs as her fisted hands pressed against his stomach. Moisture glistened on the back of her neck. Nervous adrenaline rippled through Nick. He didn’t know how to comfort this woman crying over his wife–this woman he felt both empathy and fury toward. If only she’d kept her secret and stayed out of Jackson, Lana might still be alive.

  “And Rebecca, too,” Jaymee mumbled as if reading Nick’s thoughts.

  “Rebecca Newton knew about Sarah too?” Cage asked.

  Nick caught the tremor of hurt in his brother-in-law’s tone. He gently pushed Jaymee away.

  “No. She only knew I needed money for an attorney to settle some family drama. But she knew how I felt about my father and his buddies. And she certainly knew Paul hated me.”

  “So how did she find out about Davies?”

  “I don’t know. Royce practiced family law. Maybe he’s the attorney Lana was searching for.” Jaymee traced the logo of Nick’s now tear-stained Polo shirt and then jerked back a step as though she’d just realized how close they were standing. She hugged herself. “Sorry about that.”

  Nick dragged his fingernails across his right temple. His thoughts were racing at high speed, and the adrenaline spurred him into clarity. He was good at this. Dig, dig, dig. Dig until he had the truth by the balls.

  The silence festered. Nick’s mind swam with new information. Someone wanted Jaymee’s secret kept at all costs. Who had more to lose? Paul Ballard or Royce Newton?

  Or the father Jaymee refused to name? “There’s no way the baby’s father could be involved in any of this?”

  Jaymee stepped back so quickly she nearly fell. Nick caught her by the elbow just in time, and she jerked her arm away, her eyes once more looking everywhere else but at him.

  Cage cleared his throat. “He’s long gone. Jaymee got sucked in by this greedy Davies bitch, Wilcher, and whoever they were working with.”

  “Royce Newton,” Nick said.

  “Maybe,” Cage said. “We’ll have to talk to Charles–”

  “No.” Jaymee’s shout reverberated off the metal walls. “You can’t. We don’t have any proof. I don’t want to get Detective Charles involved until I have to.”

  “Why?” Cage asked. “He’s a good cop, Jaymee.”

  “He’s not going to do a damned thing without proof except maybe interview my father, which is the last thing I want. Please. Not yet. Let’s figure out what Royce knows–if anything. Nick’s an investigative reporter. He can get something out of him. I’ll help.”

  “Jaymee…” Cage began.

  “I want to help.”

  Nick cocked his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Jaymee didn’t flinch as he sized her up.

  “You’re too close,” he argued.

  “And you’re not?”

  He ran his index finger over his bottom lip and then tapped the corner of his mouth. “All right. I wanted to talk to Royce Newton. Now I know what the topic of conversation will be.”

  “Goddamnit, Nick,” Cage said. “You’re not a cop. You’re already withholding evidence with that letter. You think Royce Newton’s just going to tell you if he and Debra Davies were involved in illegal adoptions? And how are you going to get by Fat Jonas?”

  Nick looked down at Jaymee. She nodded, a silent understanding passing between them, and he faced Cage. “Jaymee here needs to pay her respects, of course.”

  “No way.” Cage pulled on Nick’s arm.

  Nick yanked out of Cage’s grasp. “I need to talk to Royce Newton. She can get me inside.”

  Jaymee glanced at Cage. His expression was unreadable, but pain reflected in his eyes. He missed his sister. The bastard that killed her needed to be brought to justice. And Jaymee owed it to Lana. “Cage, please.”

  “Fine.” He shoved the trailer door open. “You’d better be damned careful. But I want to talk to Jaymee in private before we leave.”

  Nick nodded and then glanced at Jaymee. “What time can I pick you up tomorrow?”

  “How’s 10:00 a.m.?”

  “Perfect.”

  Jaymee didn’t want to deal with Cage right now. Tension pounded at the base of her skull, and her knuckles hurt from clenching her fists. She watched Nick’s long strides as he headed for the car, stiff shouldered and head down. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.

  Behind her, Cage cleared his throat. Jaymee sighed and turned to face him, leaning against the now closed door. “Go ahead.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him everything?”

  She ran her fingers across her damp eyebrows. Her chest was tight from heat and stress. “He doesn’t need to know everything.” Until they had real proof, Jaymee wasn’t going to divulge any more to Nick–or to anyone else.

  “You’re going to have to tell him.” Cage’s tone held more than irritation. His hurt was barely disguised. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about Debra Davies–that you and Lana actually had a name to search for?”

  “Because I didn’t think it mattered. After Lana died, I just wanted to forget. And if she couldn’t find her, why involve you?”

  Cage shook his head. “Because I’m your friend.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cage glared across the trailer at her, but he dropped his crossed arms and heaved a sigh. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

  So did she. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Please be careful.” Cage gave her a tight, one-armed hug. Jaymee stayed for a beat and then pulled away. Keeping the line between friendship and the love Cage wanted made her feel cruel, but she refused to mislead him. It wasn’t fair.

  “I will. I can handle Royce, and Nick will be there.”

  A flicker of pain flashed in Cage’s dark eyes. “I know.”

  He stalked out of the trailer leaving the words hanging between them.

  Cage’s headlights illuminated the metal trailers that lined the drive. Jaymee watched until the bright beams faded away, and the trailer court was left with only the gray glow of the old security light. Blood roared through her veins and pounded in her ears.

  After all this ti
me, all the years of self-loathing and regret, her chance for justice had finally emerged. Debra Davies was still out there, still lying and likely stealing children. Holden Wilcher was no doubt helping her. How many lives had they ruined? Lana had obviously gotten too close. So had Rebecca.

  Jaymee knew she should be afraid, but she felt only rage and adrenaline. Sarah was coming home if it killed her.

  9

  Nick met Cage at the police station early the next morning operating on little sleep and nearly a full pot of coffee. Running faster than a movie reel, his mind refused to rest. Why hadn’t Lana confided in him? She could have kept Jaymee’s name out of it. He would have helped find out the truth.

  The truth. The answer to his question stared him in the face with ugly clarity. She hadn’t confided in him because he wouldn’t have listened. Mired in his own workload and ego, he would have brushed her theory off as nothing more than her soft heart and imagination working overtime.

  Shoving the heavy guilt aside, he stepped into the shabby office behind Cage.

  “You’re Lana’s husband. Mighty sorry for your loss.” Detective Charles was a good thirty pounds overweight with a perpetually flushed face. He folded thick hands over a pile of folders and eyed Nick with the caginess of a seasoned cop.

  “Thank you.” Nick and Cage sat in Detective Charles’s cramped office. Nick clutched yet another cup of coffee.

  “Visiting?”

  “Something like that.”

  Charles grunted. His too-small chair squeaked in pain as he shifted to glare at Cage. “Why the hell did you call the medical examiner about Rebecca Newton?”

  Cage adjusted his deputy badge. Nick rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for a jurisdictional pissing contest.

  “Needed to see the body,” Cage said.

  “Why?”

  Cage wagged two fingers in Nick’s direction. Charles grimaced and focused his glare on Nick. “Get to the point, boys. Dealing with the first murder in Roselea in six years is hard enough, not to mention it was the wife of the town’s wealthiest man and happened in one of Mississippi’s grand old homes. The mayor and the chief are already on my ass.”