Reckless Whisper

by Barbara Freethy

  Walking across the room, she paused in front of a family photo. It had been taken before Hayley's siblings had been born, and the brown-haired little girl was about two years old. She looked happy and well loved.

  "That's one of my favorite pictures. I like to have photos of each one of my kids on their own," Lindsay said.

  "I understand Hayley was adopted."

  "Yes. She's our miracle. We tried for ten years to have a child or to adopt, and we'd almost given up hope when Hayley came along. She was the prettiest baby I'd ever seen, even though she was bald as could be, with only about three strands of hair on her head." Lindsay gave her a sad smile. "She smiled at me, and I knew she was mine. She was home. She was where she was supposed to be."

  Lindsay's heartfelt words tugged at her heart. Interviewing the parents was always tough, and it took all she had to keep it together and focus on the job.

  "I understand your other two kids are your biological children?"

  "Yes. It was crazy. All those years of trying and nothing. Then Hayley turns four, and I find out I'm pregnant with Connor. Morgan came two years later. I love them all so much. I don't love Hayley less because I didn't give birth to her. She's my child—one hundred percent."

  "I believe you," she said, feeling as if Lindsay needed some sort of reassurance.

  "The police asked me about her biological parents, but we never knew anything about them. The mother wanted a closed adoption, and we did, too. We wanted to be Hayley's parents. We didn't want anyone else in the mix. Maybe that sounds selfish, but it felt like it would be too complicated any other way."

  "Does Hayley know she's adopted?"

  "No. We're going to tell her when she's older."

  "You're not afraid someone in the family will say something to her?"

  "My parents know, and they feel the same way we do—that Hayley isn't ready to deal with it. Mark's parents are deceased."

  "What about friends, cousins, neighbors?"

  "There are a few other people who know, but they would never say anything." Lindsay paused, giving Bree a questioning look. "Do you know anything about the biological parents? I asked the detectives, and they wouldn't say. Are they involved in this?"

  "I honestly don't know. But we're going to run down every lead as fast as we can. I can promise you that."

  "The waiting is torture."

  "I know. Now, tell me what Hayley is like."

  "She's shy, but she can be funny when she's with her friends, when she feels comfortable. She's very caring. She loves animals, especially bunnies," she said with a watery laugh as she tipped her head toward the pile of animals. "Unfortunately, my son Connor is allergic, so we haven’t been able to bring a pet into the home. It's crazy now that there are dogs searching for her. The detectives took some of her things, so the dogs could pick up her scent." Lindsay's mouth shook again. "I want them to find her alive. I can't bear the thought that they won't."

  "Try to stay positive."

  "You've worked on cases like this before? Something to do with the white rose?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened to those other children?"

  "The last one was found alive. She's going to be okay." Bree hoped that piece of news would give Lindsay a little hope.

  But Lindsay focused in on three words. "The last one? What about the others?"

  "We don't know if Hayley's case is tied to the other abductions."

  "But it sounds like it might be."

  "We're going to do everything we can to find your daughter. You have a huge team looking for Hayley."

  "I know. Mark and I are so grateful. We just want to bring her home, take her in our arms and never let her go."

  "I hope that happens really soon," she said, as they headed downstairs.

  When they reached the entry, Mark came out of the living room and pulled his wife into an embrace. She left the two of them in their anguish as she walked out of the house, pushing her way past reporters who asked her if she had anything new to report. She made no comment. She was definitely not the official spokesperson for this case.

  As she reached the end of the block, she pulled out her phone to check on the other address she'd been given. She wanted to check in with their only eyewitness—Grace Roberts. She lived just three blocks away. While Grace had also been interviewed extensively, Bree wanted to ask a few of her own questions. Now that some time had passed since Hayley's abduction the night before, Grace might remember more than she had previously.

  She was almost to Grace's house when her phone vibrated.

  Pulling it out of the pocket of her navy-blue slacks, she saw an unidentified number. Her pulse sped up. "Agent Adams," she said crisply.

  "So formal," the altered voice said. "You and I are going to get very close…Bree."

  "Then maybe I should know who you are."

  "That would take the fun away."

  "What do you want?"

  "What you want—a worthy competitor."

  "I'm not competing with you."

  "Aren't you?" He paused. "I like it better when you wear your hair down." At the end of his statement, the call disconnected.

  Her gut tightened as she looked around the neighborhood. Was he watching her?

  She thought she saw a curtain flutter in a window across the street, but that could be anyone, or just her imagination.

  "You want to compete," she muttered. "You better be ready to lose."

  She slid her phone into her pocket, wondering what the game was, and if Hayley was also an unwilling player.

  Two

  "Do the police have any leads?" Nathan Bishop asked, as he slid onto the stool at his sister's kitchen island and watched her fix lunch for her daughter Grace, who would normally be at school. But since Grace's friend, Hayley Jansen, had disappeared from the concert last night, Josie had kept Grace at home. His sister and niece were both shaken and terrified about what had happened to Hayley, and he couldn't blame them. He was just happy to see that Josie had calmed down since the night before.

  "Not that I know of," Josie replied, pausing from making tuna fish sandwiches to pull her dark-brown hair into a ponytail.

  His sister looked exhausted and anxious, taking him back in time to the life they'd lived as kids, when sleeplessness, hunger, and anxiety had plagued their every step. He hated to see her back in that state of mind. She'd been doing so well the last several years, and Grace needed her mom to be whole. He was going to do everything he could to make sure she stayed that way.

  "The police keep sending people over to talk to Grace, and I really wish they'd stop," Josie added. "She has told them all she knows, and it upsets her to think about what has happened to Hayley."

  "Where is Grace?" The house seemed unusually quiet. Grace was a high-energy, talkative kid, and when she was around, she was always noticeable.

  "She's in my bed, watching a movie. I really wanted Kyle to stay home with us today, but he couldn't. It's always work, work, work with him. Even after the night we had, he still puts his clients ahead of us."

  He really didn't want to ask about her marriage. He'd never been a super fan of her husband Kyle, but he tried to keep that opinion away from his sister. He told himself that as long as Kyle took care of Josie and Grace, he could deal with Kyle's over-the-top arrogance.

  Josie suddenly squealed as she accidentally stabbed herself with the knife. "Damn, damn, damn." She moved to the sink to run water over her finger.

  "You need to take a breath, Josie."

  She grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around her finger. "How the hell am I supposed to do that when Hayley is God knows where with God knows who? It could have been Grace, Nathan. She was right there. She went into the bathroom with Hayley. If she had stayed there with Hayley…"

  He saw Josie's bottom lip start to tremble, and he slid off the stool and walked around the counter, putting his hands on her shoulders the way he'd always done when she was a little girl and the world was getting too scary. "I
t's going to be all right. They'll find Hayley."

  "You don't know that. She could be—"

  "Stop. Don't think the worst."

  "But the worst happens." She gazed into his eyes. "We both know that."

  He couldn't argue with that statement. "Well, I hope it doesn't happen this time. Can I help you finish the sandwiches?"

  "I've got it." She slipped away to grab a Band-Aid out of the drawer. As she put it on, she said, "Let's talk about something else."

  He was immensely relieved by the suggestion. "Go for it."

  "What's happening with you and Adrienne?"

  He inwardly groaned as he grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. "How about a different subject?"

  "We can't talk about your girlfriend?"

  "She's not my girlfriend. We've just been hanging out."

  "For two months," she said pointedly. "In which time, I've only seen her once. I want to get to know her better. Why don't you bring her around?"

  "I will."

  "When?"

  "Sometime."

  "I can keep secrets, you know."

  He frowned at her comment. "I'm not worried about that."

  "Good. Because you've moved beyond your past, Nathan. You're a completely different person."

  "Exactly, so no reason to talk about it."

  "But who you used to be—where we come from—it's part of you. You're going to have to share it with someone at some point."

  "Why would I do that?" he challenged, taking a swig of water.

  "Because it won't be a real relationship until you're completely honest."

  "Who said anything about having a real relationship?"

  She made a face at him. "Don't you want what I have? A family? The kind of family we always wanted?"

  "I have you and Grace for that." As he finished speaking, the doorbell rang. "Are you expecting someone?"

  "No, and the police promised me that they'd keep Grace's name out of the news, but I'm worried a reporter will find us."

  "I'll get it. I'll send whoever it is away."

  "Thanks," she said with relief. "Once they're gone, we'll have lunch."

  He walked down the hall and opened the front door, prepared to get rid of whoever was there. But the woman on the porch stole the breath out of his chest… her light-brown hair, her compelling green eyes, the hot, sexy mouth that he'd spent too many nights dreaming about.

  Damn!

  He hadn't seen her in over ten years, but the time in between suddenly vanished, and he felt like he was once again standing on the edge of a ledge with a woman who could save him or push him off.

  Her jaw dropped as the same kind of wonder filled her gaze.

  "Nathan?"

  Her sweet voice socked him in the gut.

  "Bree? What the hell are you doing here?" The question came out more aggressive than it probably should have, but he wasn't ready to see her again.

  "I was going to ask you the same question." She licked her lips. "I'm looking for Grace Roberts."

  "Are you a reporter now?"

  "No." She pulled open her navy-blue blazer, revealing navy-blue slacks and a white shirt, but it was the shiny piece of metal at her waist that shocked him for the second time in the last sixty seconds. "I'm an FBI special agent."

  "No way!"

  "It's true."

  "You? You became a fed? How did they let you in?"

  She frowned at his attacking words. "They let me in, because I'm good at the job. Who is Grace to you?"

  "She's my niece."

  Now it was Bree's turn to be surprised. "Seriously? Grace is Josie's daughter? Josie is okay? Last time I saw her, I wasn't sure…"

  "She's been okay for a while," he said shortly. "Up until last night when one of her daughter's best friends was abducted. Now she's a mess, terrified for Grace and for Hayley."

  "That's why I'm here. I need to speak to Grace about what happened. Let me in, Nathan."

  He suddenly realized he was blocking the door. He took a step back and waved her into the house, which felt like the absolutely wrong thing to do.

  Letting her into Josie's house, into his life—was he crazy?

  But this wasn't about the past; it was about Hayley.

  "I'll get my sister. Wait here." He walked down the hall and into the kitchen, still having trouble taking in a full breath.

  "Who was it?" Josie asked. "A reporter?"

  "No." He closed the kitchen door behind him. "It's an FBI agent. She wants to talk to Grace."

  Josie frowned. "But Grace already spoke to the police—several different detectives. It's just going to upset her all over again. Can't you get rid of her?"

  "Believe me, I want to," he said tersely. "But she's not going anywhere."

  "Then I'll talk to her. I'll tell her Grace isn't up to it."

  "Wait." He grabbed her arm as she came around the counter.

  "What?" Josie asked, a question in her eyes.

  "It's Bree."

  She blinked in confusion, and then that confusion turned to shock. "Bree? No."

  "Yes."

  "She's an FBI agent? How—how is that possible?"

  "No idea. But she showed me her badge. She's working on Hayley's disappearance."

  Josie stared back at him. "I didn't think she'd ever come back to Chicago."

  "I didn't, either."

  "I don't know exactly what happened between—"

  "And it's not important," he said, cutting her off. "Just don't say anything personal about you or me or what we're doing now."

  "What are you worried about, Nathan?"

  "Everything," he muttered, letting go of his sister's arm.

  As Josie left the room, he drew in a deep breath. He needed a minute to get his head together.

  Bree—he'd never thought he'd see her again.

  The years had been good to her. In fact, she looked better now than she had the last time he'd seen her. Then she'd been pale, scared, and a little broken. Now, she was sharp, clear-eyed, confident, and…strikingly pretty.

  She'd clearly gotten her life together.

  Well, so had he, and he wasn't going to let her drag him backward.

  * * *

  Bree paced restlessly around the living room, her nerves on edge, her stomach churning with nausea, her head aching with tension. She'd told herself that coming back to Chicago did not mean going back in time, but that's exactly where Nathan Bishop had taken her.

  Nathan! How could he be here? How could the only eyewitness be connected to him?

  It was improbable and yet it was true.

  The last time she'd seen him had been at the bus station. She'd been eighteen; he'd been nineteen—skinny and long-haired and…angry. He didn't want to be there, but she'd called in an old debt, and he'd paid up.

  Apparently, his anger at her hadn't diminished over the years. He had definitely not looked happy to see her.

  But he had looked good. He'd become a man—a muscled, fit, handsome man. He still had the thick brown hair that always looked windblown, a shadow of beard on his jaw, and light-brown eyes that could be kind and friendly but also piercing and judgmental.

  When they were kids, she'd mostly seen the friendly side of Nathan, but as they got older, as they moved into their late teens, that had changed.

  A woman entered the living room, and the butterfly tattoo on her neck told her it was Josie, Nathan's little sister. Josie's hair was darker than she remembered. Her skin was healthy, her eyes worried, but she looked far more alert now than she had as a drug-addicted teenager.

  She'd actually gone with Josie when she'd gotten the tattoo against the wishes of her big brother. Josie had wanted a symbol of freedom, something to strive for, something to believe in, and Bree had wanted that for her, too.

  In return, Josie had not treated her very well.

  Her relationship with both Bishops had certainly been fraught with problems.

  Josie shook her head in bemusement. "Nathan said it was you, but I
can't believe it—Bree Larson."

  "Actually, it's Bree Adams now."

  "You got married?" Josie asked.

  "No, I just changed my last name."

  "To become an FBI agent?"

  "I had a lot of reasons. But, yes, I am an agent. I'm part of a critical action team that assists with child abductions, and I need to speak to Grace." If she could keep this all business, it would be better for all of them.

  Josie stiffened, the bewildered look in her eyes turning into protective maternal fierceness. "Grace has already told the police everything she knows, and it upsets her to talk about it. She and Hayley are very close."

  "I understand," she said gently. "I know she's scared—as are you, because Grace was so close to Hayley when this happened."

  Josie's eyes watered. "It could have been her."

  "But it wasn't. Grace is safe, and I promise I will do everything I can not to upset her, but I need to speak to her now."

  Josie stared back at her. "You were always so strong. I admired that for a long time. But then you changed into someone else."

  "Look, I don't want to cut you off, Josie, but time is important right now. And I'm not here to talk about the past. We need to find Hayley, and we need Grace's help to do that."

  "I'll get her. But be careful, Bree. I may not have ever stood up for myself, but I will stand up for Grace."

  "The last thing I would want to do is hurt your child."

  As Josie left the living room, Bree let out a breath of relief, but her calm was short-lived as Nathan returned to the room.

  He'd always been tall, six foot one or two, but he had a much stronger presence now, or maybe she was just very aware of his angry wariness. His eyes were shooting sparks at her, and she didn't know if the emotion was coming from the past or from right now.

  But she couldn't find the words to ask. There was too much to say and too little time.

  Thankfully, Josie came back into the room with a little girl wearing leggings and a big pink sweater, her long, dark-brown hair loose around her shoulders.

  Grace was the spitting image of Josie as a little girl. "She looks just like you," she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She wanted to keep this professional, not personal, but already she'd stumbled.