“Seeing as how she’s sitting in my SUV waiting for us to finish in here, I’d say she’s not exactly hiding.”
“I’m making it clear for future reference, because if she suddenly disappears, your entire team is going to be on the line for it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It took a lot to get him riled up, but Boone was heading there. He stayed out of the way. He played nice. He’d followed Chance’s rules of engagement with local police. What he wasn’t going to do was stand there and take it while HEART was used as a scapegoat.
“It hasn’t escaped my notice that you were the last person aside from Scout to see Lucy—”
“Don’t go there, Lamar.” He bit the words out. “Because if you do, I’ll go here—you and your team need as much help as you can get on this. Turning away an organization that has made its name freeing hostages and bringing them home safely isn’t the smart way to go.”
“I know who you work for, and I know what HEART does. What I don’t know is why you’re wasting time on this case when there are bigger, more lucrative cases you could be tackling.”
“Because it isn’t about money. It’s about family,” he retorted, full-out riled, and he’d better not let it show. He’d made that mistake on one too many occasions, and local police hadn’t much appreciated it. Neither had Chance. Boone didn’t care all that much, but if he wanted to help Scout, he needed to play things smart.
“Everything is about money, Anderson. You work this job enough, and you start to realize it,” Lamar said wearily as he used gloved hands to lift a photo from the floor. Nearly ripped in two, it was a close-up of Scout and Lucy taken when Lucy was a baby. Probably one of those Sears or Walmart portraits. It shouldn’t have been beautiful. The background was a little too bright, the lighting a little harsh, but Scout looked soft and sweet, her expression so filled with love it made Boone’s heart ache. He’d seen that look in Lana’s eyes the day Kendal was born.
Had it been there after that?
He didn’t remember. He’d been out of town a lot, working missions that he couldn’t talk about in places he wasn’t allowed to reveal. He’d missed out on weeks and months of memories. Some days that hurt worse than others. Today, looking at the photo of Scout smiling at a sleeping Lucy, it hurt a lot.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said abruptly, because he didn’t want to stand in the doorway of the nursery any longer, thinking about his daughter, who was out in the world somewhere. Lost to him until he could find her again.
FIVE
Scout wanted to sleep.
She wanted it so badly she was trying to force herself into it. No amount of trying to slip away from reality worked, though. No matter how much she tried, she was still in the SUV watching police officers enter and exit her house.
She glanced at Eleanor. She was still standing near her car, but she wasn’t alone. A police officer was beside her, jotting something in a notebook as she spoke.
Stella hadn’t moved from her position. As a matter of fact, Scout wasn’t sure she’d blinked in the time since they’d left the house.
She knocked on the window, and Stella glanced her way, then turned toward the yard again.
She knocked again.
Nothing. Not even a flinch or twitch.
“I know you can hear me,” she yelled.
“I am ignoring you,” Stella yelled back.
“You’re going to have to acknowledge me eventually.” She hoped.
Again. Nothing.
She settled back into the seat, closed her eyes, heard the quiet click of the locks.
Free?
She tried the door. It opened.
“Don’t get out,” Stella commanded without looking her way.
“I have to,” she responded, opening the door wider, ready to hop out and go inside.
“You want your little girl to have to raise herself?” There was no emotion in Stella’s voice. Nothing to indicate that she cared one way or another.
“My little girl is missing. Until I find her, that question is moot.” She levered out of the car, swaying as the blood rushed from her head.
“Told you not to get out,” Stella grumbled, grabbing her arm and holding her up when she might have fallen over. “You’re still weak. The way I see it, you should be in the hospital. Since I’m not running the show, I guess you’re going to be wherever Boone decides we’re going to take you.”
Wherever Boone decided?
She didn’t think so, but he was walking toward them, his long legs eating up the ground between them, his dark red hair slightly ruffled as if he’d run his fingers through it a few dozen times.
“Did they find anything?” Scout asked. Did they find her?
She didn’t ask the second question. She knew the answer.
“The place was wiped clean.” He glanced at Stella and some secret message seemed to pass between them. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be left on the outside looking in.
“Professionals?” Stella’s arms were folded across her chest, her stance wide. She looked larger-than-life but was probably only an inch taller than Scout.
“Looks that way.”
“Guess we have a lot of questions that are going to need answering. Does Lamar want us to keep her here or take her back to the hospital to wait?”
“I’m right here, and I don’t care what Lamar wants,” Scout cut in. She sounded weaker than she wanted to, her voice faint.
“I was thinking the same.” Boone smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked a few years older than she was. Maybe in his early to mid-thirties, his body lean and muscular. The kind of guy who’d get attention wherever he went because of his good looks and his deep red hair. “Unfortunately, my boss does care, and he’ll be mighty unhappy if we drive away without Officer Lamar’s permission.”
“Mighty?” Stella sighed. “Who says that?”
“Me and everyone I grew up with.” He took Scout’s arm. “How about we go inside and see if there’s anything missing?”
“If the rest of the house is as torn apart as the living room, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell,” she admitted. She was half hoping that he’d say it wasn’t, half believing that it couldn’t possibly be.
“It’s pretty well messed up, but you’ll know if there’s any jewelry or valuables missing.”
“I don’t have much.” A few pieces of jewelry of her mother’s. Her parents’ wedding rings. Some china that had belonged to her great-grandmother and that had been passed down to Scout. Her parents hadn’t been wealthy, and they hadn’t believed in collecting frivolities.
“That will make things even easier.” He urged her inside, closing the door firmly behind them. Stella hadn’t followed them. Was she still standing guard outside?
Did they really think it was necessary?
There were police cars and police officers and neighbors who’d gathered near at the edge of the driveway. It would take someone with a lot of guts to try anything with so many witnesses.
Then again, it had taken someone with a lot of guts to follow her through a grocery store, run her off the road and take her daughter.
Several police officers stood in the living room. They were silent as she followed Boone through into the hallway.
They knew who she was, knew she was the mother of the missing child. Knew how heavy her heart must be. She wanted to tell them that no matter what they were imagining, it couldn’t compare to what she actually felt. There were no words to describe the thousand-ton weight pressing on her chest, no vocabulary that existed that could express the depth of her fear.
“Where do you keep your valuables?” Boone asked.
“In my room.”
“Then how about we look there first?”
She didn�
��t tell him where it was, but he didn’t slow his pace or ask. Lucy’s room was to the right. Hers was across the hall. There was a spare room, too. She’d put a futon and a small dresser in it to fill the space. Not because she had family or friends who might come for a visit. She had no family left and she’d cut ties with her friends in San Jose after she’d become pregnant with Lucy. Only Amber knew where she’d gone after she’d moved, and she’d been as anxious to keep that secret as Scout had been.
Had she taken the secret to the grave with her?
Scout had assumed that she had. They were best friends, more like sisters than anything else. She couldn’t imagine that Amber would have betrayed her trust. Especially when she was the one who’d been so determined that Scout leave San Jose, so determined that she not tell anyone ever who Lucy’s father was.
She followed Boone into her bedroom, her stomach sick with dread. The mattress had been slashed, the stuffing pulled out. The same for her pillow and the down comforter she’d spent a small fortune on. Every picture on her dresser had been tossed on the floor. All her clothes were emptied into a pile. The small jewelry box lay broken a few feet from the bed as if someone had tossed it there. She crouched beside it, head spinning from moving too quickly.
The rings and jewelry were there. Under the broken wood and the tiny ballerina that used to spin each time the box opened. Her mother had received the box for her tenth birthday, and Scout had inherited it after her death. She’d treasured it for nearly fifteen years. Now it was gone.
She grabbed the rings, her eyes burning and her chest tight.
“They didn’t take them,” she said, meeting Boone’s dark blue eyes.
“Didn’t take what?” A tall dark-haired man walked into the room before Boone responded. Dressed in a police uniform, his shoes shined, his gaze sharp, the officer glanced at the jewelry box, then met Scout’s eyes. “Your jewelry?”
“Yes.”
“Does it have any value?”
“I don’t know. I never had it appraised.”
He frowned, lifting one of the thin gold chains. “Looks like real gold. I’d say whoever was in your house wasn’t looking for valuables. They didn’t take the television. Didn’t take your laptop. Is there anything else they might have been looking for?”
“Like what?”
“Don’t know, but I’m figuring you might.”
“I don’t.” He was trying to get somewhere with his questioning, but her sluggish brain wasn’t following.
“Most kids aren’t abducted by strangers. You know that, right?”
“I—”
“That being the case,” he continued, not giving her a chance to speak, “it seems reasonable to assume that the person who took your daughter wasn’t a stranger.”
She didn’t say anything, because she was afraid he was right. She was afraid that the secret she’d kept had been revealed and the people she’d feared had come for her daughter.
“Maybe you know the person? Maybe you’ve had some kind of interaction with him? Are you dating someone? Were you in a relationship in the last couple of months?”
“No.” She shook her head, regretted it immediately. She felt light-headed and unsteady. She tried to stand, to put herself closer to eye level with the officer rather than having him tower over her.
Her muscles didn’t want to cooperate.
Boone took her hand, tugging up in one easy motion. “You okay?” he asked.
“Should I be?” she responded.
“No,” he admitted, glancing around the room.
The officer’s attention was on Scout, and it never wavered. He didn’t look as if he believed her story. “How about someone you work with? Someone in your circle of friends?” he pressed.
“I work at the library,” she said, her mouth cottony and dry. “When I’m not working, I’m here with Lucy. I go to church on Sunday, but other than that, my life is pretty boring.”
“Yet someone kidnapped your daughter and ransacked your house. There has to be a reason for that.”
“I guess so.” She rubbed her forehead, her fingers flitting over the bandage. It did nothing to clear her thoughts. She thought she knew where he was going with the questions. Thought he was implying that she’d brought all this on herself.
Maybe she had.
She’d made mistakes. Little ones. Big ones.
She’d thought that she’d moved beyond them, made a life that wouldn’t be touched by what she’d done, the lies she’d told.
She should have known better.
There were always consequences. Maybe not right away, but eventually.
“Guessing isn’t going to help us find your daughter,” the officer said. There wasn’t any kindness in his tone or in his eyes. Maybe he was assuming that she’d had some part in Lucy’s kidnapping. Maybe he thought she’d brought it on herself. “How about you tell me what you have that someone is searching for? Money? Drugs?”
“What? No!” she protested, because there wasn’t anything that anyone might want in the house. “I’m not into that kind of thing.”
“Then what are you into? People don’t get into this kind of trouble over nothing. Did you have a deal with someone? Did you get in over your head and not know where to turn for help?”
“I’m not the kind of person who gets into trouble, and I’ve never been into anything so much that I was over my head.”
“This—” Lamar gestured to the slashed mattress, the picture frames smashed, the pile of clothes “—would prove otherwise. So, how about you be honest? Tell me what’s going on?”
“How about you back off a little, Lamar?” Boone cut in, reaching down to grab the broken jewelry box from the floor and setting it on the dresser. He moved calmly, easily, no sign of tension. “She’s still recovering from a serious injury.”
“And her daughter is missing. Which is a more pressing matter?”
“Lucy is the most pressing,” Scout cut in. She didn’t want any time wasted. Not arguing or asking questions she had no answers to. “But I really don’t have a boyfriend or an ex. I don’t have a drug habit. I don’t do anything illegal.”
“Right.” The officer pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.
She glanced at it, read the name. Jet Lamar.
“Keep that with you,” he continued. “If you remember anything, give me a call.”
“There’s nothing to remem—”
“And you!” He jabbed a finger at Boone. “Get her out of my crime scene and back to the hospital.”
“Out of her house, you mean?” Boone responded.
“I want her out of here, and since you’re the one who made her escape from the hospital happen, I figure you should be the one to make that happen, too.”
He stalked out of the room.
Scout would have followed, but her ears were buzzing, the light dimming.
“You don’t look so hot.” Boone wrapped an arm around her waist. A good thing, because her legs were weak, her heart beating a strange uneven rhythm.
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” she murmured, the words slipping away before they really formed.
He must have heard, because he smiled and shook his head. “It’s good that you have a sense of humor, Scout. That’s going to help a lot.”
Help what? This time the words didn’t come out at all. They got stuck in her throat and stayed there as blackness edged in and her vision went fuzzy.
Someone said her name, but she wasn’t sure if it was Boone or someone else. Her knees buckled, and Boone scooped her into his arms, muttering something that she didn’t hear or couldn’t comprehend. She wanted to close her eyes and give in and just let herself slip away. It was what she’d wanted desperately while she was waiting in the SUV. Now she fought it bec
ause she didn’t want to go back to the hospital.
“Put me down.” She shoved at a chest that was sculpted and hard and had absolutely no give in it.
“So you can fall on the floor? I don’t think so.” Boone stepped outside, the cold air filling her lungs and clearing her head. “I think it’s time to get you out of here.”
“I’m okay now. I want to stay.”
“Sorry, but Lamar doesn’t want you here. I’m trying to stay on his good side.” He set her in the backseat of the SUV, leaning in to grab the end of her seat belt. They were eye to eye, his scent filling the vehicle, a mixture of soap and spicy aftershave.
“I don’t want to go back to the hospital.”
“So, we won’t go there.” He closed the door, slid into the driver’s seat while Stella climbed into the passenger seat beside him.
“Let me guess,” she said. “We’re going to Raina’s.”
“She has plenty of room.” He backed up, maneuvering the SUV around parked police cars and Eleanor’s car.
“So does a hotel.”
“Not as easy to secure.”
“Jackson isn’t going to like it.”
“Sure he is. Right now, he’s staying in a hotel. I think he’ll be happy to have an excuse to spend more time at his fiancée’s house before he returns to D.C.”
Scout had no idea what they were talking about. She didn’t ask. She was too busy going over what Officer Lamar had said. He seemed to think she had something that someone wanted.
The only thing she’d had that anyone might want was Lucy, and the only people who might be interested in having her didn’t even know she existed.
Did they?
Don’t ever tell them, Scout. Swear to me that you won’t. They’ll take that baby from you and you’ll never see it again. You try to fight them, and it’ll get ugly. They’ll find some reason to throw you in jail or make CPS think you’re not going to be a good mother. They might even do worse. I wouldn’t put anything past my family.
Scout could still hear the words, still see Amber’s face as she said them—pale and gaunt, her eyes hollow. Nearly four years later, the conversation still haunted her.
Her Christmas Guardian Page 5
