Cry Mercy

SIXTEEN

Where should I put her?” Nick turned in the doorway of Emme's hotel room, Chloe in his arms.

Emme gestured for him to follow her into the next room, then pointed to the far side of the bed.

“Thanks,” she whispered as he laid the child gently on the bed.

“I'll be out there.” Nick tilted his head in the direction of the small sitting room they'd first passed through.

She nodded and proceeded to remove Chloe's shoes. She lightly pulled the blanket up and tiptoed from the room.

“That was fast,” Nick said from his seat in the room's sole chair.

“There's no point in trying to undress her, it would only wake her. Though she's pretty well out right now.”

“She had a big day.”

“That's an understatement.” Emme sat on the edge of the small love seat, her knees touching his in the narrow space between the two pieces of furniture. “I don't know how to thank you for everything. You really didn't have to drive all the way back here. It's so far out of your way. I can't even offer you a cup of coffee. Though we could call room service.” She stole a peek at the clock on the television. “The kitchen stays open until ten. I usually call down for coffee around now.”

“I wasn't ready to say good-bye after the zoo, and I wasn't ready to say good night after dinner. And I didn't come for the coffee.”

Emme's eyes darted toward the sleeping area where her daughter lay.

“Relax.” He reached across the short span between them and took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I just meant after spending the day together, I wasn't ready to have it end. On the drive over here, I was trying to remember the last time I enjoyed a day more… other than maybe at a car show. But if you're tired…”

“No, no,” she said. The last thing she wanted right now would be for him to leave. She knew that much. What she didn't know was what she'd want if he stayed.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now that we've got that out of the way, let's take a look at what we learned today.”

“Right.” She nodded. “What we learned.” She cleared her throat. “Well, we learned that… not so much about the case.”

“I wasn't talking about the case.”

“Oh.” She shifted slightly on the love seat. He was still holding her hand. “Well, then. I guess I learned that Trula's picnics pack a better selection than the kiosks at the zoo, and that my daughter has an infinite capacity when it comes to learning the names of new animals.”

“And I learned that when you're with your daughter, you're a completely different woman. You drop your guard and you smile a lot more. Laugh a lot more, too,” Nick said. She opened her mouth to say something, but he continued. “But I understand that. I found myself smiling and laughing more than usual, too. It's hard not to when you have the opportunity to see the animal world through the eyes of a four-year-old.”

“I told you she'd talk you near to deafness.”

“What's that you say?” He cupped his ear with his hand like an old man who was hard of hearing, and laughed.

His laugh was sexy, low and deep in the back of his throat, and she wondered if she'd been trying to ignore that fact all day. Nah, she'd noticed. It would have been impossible not to.

“Chloe's very entertaining, and very smart, and very much fun to be around. She's lively and quick and doesn't miss a damned thing.” With both his hands holding hers, he tugged on them until their faces were less than a foot apart. “You've done a remarkable job with her. I'm sure it hasn't always been easy, raising her alone.”

“I haven't minded. I wouldn't trade a day with her-even the worst ones, and there have been some dicey times. Chloe slid face first into her terrible twos at about eighteen months and life was not so sweet there for a while. Fortunately, it passed in time for her to go to preschool.”

“She talked a lot today about school,” he recalled. “She must really like it.”

“It was so hard on her when we left California. It just killed me to take her away like that.” She bit back the words.

“Why did you?”

“I thought it would be better for her in the long run.” She repeated the story she'd given Mallory about the feuding factions in and around Silver Hill.

“Were you afraid her birth mother might change her mind and want to see her?”

“Her birth mother is dead.”

“How about her father?”

“He should be,” she snapped.

“Whoa, Emme.” His eyes narrowed at her outburst. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Let's just say her birth father is not a good person, not a nice person. Not a man you would ever want your child to find out she was related to.”

“I think I stepped too close to the line,” he said. “I apologize.”

“It's okay, Nick.” For a moment, she was tempted to tell him the truth, but she forced that moment to pass. There was no point in spilling her secrets to him. The case she was working for him would end sooner or later, and he'd go back to his life and she'd get on with hers. There'd been times in her life when she'd regretted sharing a secret, but she couldn't recall a time when she'd been sorry she'd kept her mouth shut. “I don't dwell on it. Chloe and I came east because I had the opportunity to work for Robert Magellan. The Mercy Street Foundation is an exciting concept-not quite law enforcement, but…”

He leaned forward so smoothly, covering the space so easily, that she didn't see the kiss coming. One moment she was focused on steering the conversation into safer waters, the next she was focused on his mouth. Tentatively he'd drawn her closer, and when her hand rose to touch the side of his face, he'd pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss and kissing her in a way she hadn't been kissed since… she wasn't sure she'd ever been kissed like that. She felt a sudden heat flare up inside her and for a moment she thought of backing away from the flame, but her instincts took over and she kissed him back. When he finally broke away, it was a slow withdrawal of his lips, which lingered just slightly before making its way to the edge of her chin.

“I've been wanting to do that since the day you walked into my garage.”

“What took you so long?” she heard herself say.

“I was afraid you'd think I was like every other guy, and I didn't want you to think that.” His thumb traced a lazy outline of her lips.

“Like every other guy?”

“Every guy you meet must hit on you. I'm sure it gets old after a while.” He added, “I didn't want to seem like a cliché.”

“A cliché,” she repeated, and shook her head. “That's about the last word I'd use to describe you. And as for guys hitting on me… I can't remember the last time someone did.”

“You've gotta be joking.”

“I was a cop for seven years. I won the marksman award every time we went out to qualify on the range.” She grinned. “It's amazing what a few rounds of target shooting will do for your reputation in a small town.”

“So are you packing now?”

“I don't have a license to carry concealed in Pennsylvania yet,” she told him. “I've applied though.”

“That isn't what I asked. Slick answer, though.”

“I bought one of my handguns from the department before I left California. Right now it's in the trunk of my car. I can't take the chance of Chloe finding it, but at the same time, I can't take the chance of…” She paused again. “The chance of needing to protect us and not being able to. What can I say?” She tried to make light of it. “I guess it's a cop thing.”

He looked as if he were about to comment when her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket quickly before it rang again.

“Hello?” She waited a moment, then said again, “Hello?”

There was no response, but it was clear someone was on the line. “Who is this?”

For a moment before the line went dead, she thought she heard music in the background. Then… click. The line went dead.

Frowning, she scrolled up the number on her caller ID list. Henry Carroll-Wilson's name came up.

“What's wrong?” Nick asked. “Who was that?”

“Henry.” She hit redial, but the phone rang and rang. When the call went to voice mail, she left a message. “Henry, it's Emme Caldwell. Your call was apparently dropped. I'm trying to get back to you but seem to be having a problem. I'm sorry we missed meeting up today but hopefully you're calling to reschedule. Please call me back so we can set something up.”

She was still frowning when she ended the call.

“What?”

“It didn't sound like a dropped call. There was someone on the line, I'd swear to it.”

“Maybe it was just one of those screwy connections you get sometimes.”

“Mommy?” Chloe called from the bedroom.

“I'm right here, honey.” Emme put the phone down on the table and excused herself to Nick. “I'll be right back.”

“Who are you talking to?” Chloe mumbled and rubbed her eyes, her feet sticking out from the blankets on one side of the bed.

“Nick.” Emme pulled the covers back over her and leaned over to kiss the top of Chloe's head.

“Nick didn't say good night to me.” Chloe's eyes were opening.

“Nick,” Emme called to him. “Would you mind saying good night to Chloe?”

“Good night, Chloe,” he said from the doorway.

“′Member you said we could go to an amusement park?”

“Sure. As soon as your mom and I can arrange the time, we'll go.”

“Yippee! Can we go to one that has-” she began to sit up.

“Back to sleep, Chloe.” Emme gently coaxed her back down. “We can talk about that some other time. It's late now, and we have to meet the Realtor in the morning, remember?”

“Are you going to sleep now, too?”

“In a minute,” Emme told her.

“I was just leaving,” Nick said. “I can let myself out. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Emme. Let me know if you hear from Henry or Lori.”

Before she could protest, Nick had turned his back and she heard the door open and close softly.

“Who are Henry and Lori?” Chloe asked sleepily.

“The people we were supposed to meet at the zoo today.” Emme curled up next to Chloe.

“I'm glad they didn't come.” Chloe yawned and snuggled closer to her mother. “We got to be with Nick.”

Well, there was that.

“I like Nick,” Chloe murmured as sleep reclaimed her.

“So do I, sweetie,” Emme whispered. “Now go to sleep.”

When Chloe's breathing slowed, Emme climbed off the bed carefully and locked the door. She turned off her computer and turned out the lights, then changed into a nightshirt. She slid back into bed and lay in the dark, her hands clasped at the back of her head, staring at the thin outline of the window drawn by the lights in the parking lot, her mind bouncing from one thing to another. She could hear car doors slamming and engines starting up and wondered if one of them was Nick.

Her tired mind settled on him for a moment, then warned her that this was not safe territory. She concentrated on finding something objectionable about him, but she was having a hard time coming up with anything. The fact that he was a client could have been enough to deter her, but she reminded herself this wasn't a criminal case she was handling and she was no longer a cop. Did the same rules apply in this situation?

It was hard to overlook the fact that they'd had a perfect day. There'd been no strangeness and no awkwardness. He and Chloe had taken to each other like the oldest of friends. They'd laughed and strolled around the zoo, looking like any of the families that strolled along with them.

She shook herself out of that thought in a hurry.

She'd never had much luck at relationships. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Success in interpersonal relations depended largely on the ability to trust, and that was one thing she'd never learned how to do. She'd taken her share of psychology courses at the community college and she understood that her unsettled childhood, where no one had ever claimed her and no one had ever asked her to stay, made it difficult for her to believe that anyone would ever want to keep her around for more than a little while. Until Chloe, no one had ever been a constant in her daily life. She looked back on her decision to take Tameka up on her offer to sign over the parental rights to her child as the luckiest day of her life.

When Tameka Jackson had asked Emme to take her child, Emme'd been stunned. She'd never thought of having a child, and her first instinct was to brush her off and pretend the offer had never been made. But Tameka had already gotten it into her head that the cop who'd tried so hard to help her get off the streets and get her life together would give her baby a better life than anyone else she knew, and she wasn't about to give up. With the assistance of a social worker, and a lawyer Emme knew to make it legal, Tameka's baby girl left the hospital as Chloe Nolan. And whatever premonition Tameka had had become reality. Ten days after the birth of her baby, Tameka had been stabbed to death in the shower in the county prison. No one had ever been charged with her murder.

Like that was some big mystery. Her trial for the sale and distribution of cocaine was drawing closer, and word on the street was that Anthony Navarro wasn't taking any chances that Tameka would talk. At the time, he hadn't shown the least bit of concern for his baby. Now he was willing to pay thousands to get her back.

“Over my dead body,” Emme whispered.

Chloe was hers now, and no one was going to take her.

Not for the first time, she wondered at the wisdom of having begun to play such a precarious game. If anyone came for Chloe, who would have her back?

Her fingers followed the path Nick's thumb had traced along her bottom lip, and thought that maybe-just maybe-there might be one person she might be able to count on.

“What are you doing here so late on a Sunday afternoon?” Having stopped at Robert's to return Trula's cooler on her way back from looking at houses, Emme had made a quick run to her office to pick up the file she'd left on her desk. On her way down the hall, she'd been surprised to find Mallory's door open, and even more surprised to find Mallory at her desk.

“I can't keep up with all the applications,” Mallory sighed. “They're coming in faster than I can field them.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Emme stepped into the room.

“You are helping. You're investigating our first case.” Mallory rubbed her eyes. “How's it going?”

“Two steps forward, three steps back.” Emme brought her up-to-date on everything she'd learned that week, right up to the Carroll-Wilson kids not showing the day before. The only thing she left out was the part about Nick following her back to the hotel.

“This is crazy stuff.” Mallory shook her head. “Who'd have seen all this coming when we decided to take this case on?”

“Hey, you were a cop, too. You know you have to always expect the unexpected.”

“Yeah, but this should be different. This should be… saner.”

Emme laughed. “How do you figure? We're doing the same work.” She thought that over for a moment, then amended it. “Actually, we're doing work that, for whatever reason, the cops were unable to do.”

“Which should make this job harder.” Mallory rubbed her eyes again. “I think I need to stop. I'm getting loopy.”

“Go home to Charlie. Go out to dinner. Go to the movies. Do something fun,” Emme said.

“Don't I wish. Charlie's working a case. I probably won't see him for days.”

“Get one of your girlfriends.”

Mallory shook her head. “Don't have any.”

“Everyone has friends.” It was Emme's turn to frown. “Why don't you have friends?”

“Long story. Too tired to tell it.”

“Okay, then, how ′bout family?”

“Don't have any of them, either.”

“You're kidding.” Emme sat on the arm of one of the chairs in Mallory's office. “No family at all?”

“Nope.” Mallory leaned back, as if in deep thought. “Well, there is someone who claims she's my sister, but she could be lying.”

“How is she your sister?”

“I don't know. I don't know that she really is, and I don't really care.”

“Didn't you ask her why she thinks…”

“I didn't answer her letter. Didn't I just say that I don't really care?”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying you got a letter out of the blue from someone who says she's your sister and you just tossed the letter without answering it?”

“I didn't toss it.” Mallory averted her eyes. “I have it at home. Some place.”

“But you didn't bother to find out if she's really related to you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because if she's your sister, then it means you do have family. You do have someone.”

“I don't need anyone.”

“We all need someone.”

Mallory stood. “I think I'm done for the day. I think I'll take these files and-”

“Mallory, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought my feelings into your situation. It's just that, well, I'd just about die if someone came along and said she was my sister. It's been one of my fantasies for most of my life.”

It was Mallory's turn to stare. For a long moment, she appeared to be debating with herself. “If my mother had another child and she decided to keep that one, well, good for her. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Am I not hearing right? Didn't you just say you had no family? But now you're saying you have a mother and a sister?”

“I haven't seen my mother in thirty-five years. Not since she dumped me on her sister and split.”

Emme was only vaguely aware that her mouth had dropped open.

“Sorry,” Mallory mumbled, and waved a hand as if to dismiss the conversation.

“I'm the one who's sorry,” Emme told her. “I'm the one who's gaping.”

“Yeah, I know. It's not a pretty story.”

“It's not that. It's just that, well, I always thought I was the only one.”

“The only one who what?” Mallory looked puzzled.

“The only one whose mother dumped her and took off.”

“You're kidding. You too?”

“On the day I was born. She left me in a church. The nuns found me when they came in for mass at five in the morning. They named me-” Emme caught herself. She'd almost said, They named me Ann, after St. Ann, for whom the church was named. “I didn't have a name, so they named me.”

“Seriously?”

Emme nodded.

“Were you adopted?” Mallory asked.

Emme shook her head. “No. I spent eighteen years in foster care. I've never known who my parents were, either of them. I don't know if they're dead or alive, why they left me, if I have a brother or sister somewhere… cousins… aunts… uncles…” She shrugged. “I've never had anyone. Until Chloe, that is.”

“We're quite a pair-two girls without any family.”

“But you said your mother left you with her sister. That means you did have someone.”

“It wasn't quite like that. When I say my mother left me there, I mean she made like we were only visiting. Then she left in the middle of the night. She didn't bother to take me with her. My aunt did the right thing by keeping me, but she never for a minute let me forget that it was only through the goodness of her heart that I had a home. I never felt welcome there, I never felt loved.”

“Did you ever ask your mother-”

“No, and I probably never will.”

“Why not?”

“My mother was a hooker in the casinos in Atlantic City. My aunt always said she'd left her burden behind so that she could go back to work. That she couldn't give up the glitz and all that high life she enjoyed to take care of a baby she hadn't wanted.” Mallory's facial muscles drew taut.

“Wow.” Emme shook her head slowly. She simply couldn't think of anything else to say. “Just… wow.”

“So you can see why I don't have any interest in contacting my mother. I've never known who my father is, never even knew his name.”

“Well, we certainly have a lot in common, don't we?” Emme said softly. “But maybe your sister-aren't you at least curious about her?”

“No. Why should I be?”

Emme stared at her. “All my life I've waited for someone to appear and tell me that we share the same blood, the same background. That we have a connection that goes beyond friendship or anything else.”

“Some of us don't need that connection.”

“Don't kid yourself,” Emme heard herself say. “Everyone needs that connection.”

“Not everyone.” Mallory cleared her throat and stuffed the papers she'd been holding into her briefcase. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” Emme backed toward the door, knowing she'd overstepped. “I'll see you then.”

“Look, I'm sorry I was short. I just don't like to talk about… all that.”

“I understand. I should have kept my two cents to myself. I'm just going to say good night to Susanna and head out.”

Emme was already into the hallway when Mallory called to her, “Susanna's not here. She took off again this weekend. Charlie said he saw her headed toward the turnpike on Friday night.”

“Still won't say where she's going?”

Mallory shook her head. “Just one more little mystery for the Mercy Street Foundation to work on. See you Monday.”

Robert stood at the kitchen window overlooking the vast grounds that spread out behind his house. He watched Trula's face light up as Chloe ran across the yard to the pool where Trula floated in an inflatable chair. Cleopatra's barge, he'd dubbed it when Kevin presented it to her on Memorial Day, which happened to be her birthday. It had an airtight pocket that zipped up, big enough to hold one of those paper back novels she was always reading when she thought no one was looking, and a special inflatable cup holder made to hold a can of soda-which Trula wouldn't be caught dead drinking-or a bottle of water, which she had with her at all times.

Chloe danced along the side of the pool, excitedly telling the older woman something. Trula threw back her head and laughed out loud at something the little girl said, and the sheer joy on her face tugged tightly at Robert's heart. Trula had never married, had never had a child of her own-though she probably should have, he reflected. She'd have been one hell of a mom. As it was, she'd spent most of her life living under other people's roofs, first his grandmother's-who'd been Trula's best friend since grade school-then his own, where she'd spent the last several years bullying him and Kevin and loving every minute of it. He'd loved it, too.

The scene was almost painful for him to watch. He hadn't seen that much pleasure on the woman's face since she'd held his son in her arms. Ian had brought her-had brought all of them-great joy.

He rested his forehead against the glass and squeezed his eyes shut even as the vise inside squeezed his heart. Lately he'd been trying to convince himself that he'd need to face the facts sooner or later. In his heart he knew that Beth was gone from this world, but he could not bring himself to speak it aloud. No woman would stay away from her home this long… especially a woman like Beth, who had loved everything about her life, loved being the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the country. He hated thinking of her like that, but there it was. Not that she hadn't loved him-he believed with all his heart that she had, that they'd loved each other. It was just that, well, she loved being the wife of a mogul and all that entitled her to. She'd loved the big house, the magnificent grounds, the cars, the jewelry, the trips, the designer clothes. He couldn't blame her for that. It was just a part of who she is.

Who she had been, he corrected himself. She wasn't anymore. He was pretty sure of that.

Over the past few months, even her memory had become more and more distant, her voice not so clear or so often in his head, her face harder and harder to pull up in the dead of night. Some days he couldn't remember what her laugh had sounded like, and it saddened him. It saddened him, too, to know that one day he might even move on. One day, maybe there'd be someone else…

But Ian… Robert would never get over losing his son. Not ever. Not if he had ten sons-a hundred sons-would he forget his firstborn. Ian would remain an open wound on his heart for as long as he drew breath.

Funny, he had trouble recalling things about Beth, but he could remember every smile, every baby laugh, every giggle, every one of Ian's firsts. None of that had dimmed in the least for him. He could even feel the way those tiny fingers had gripped on to his.

He opened his eyes to see Trula emerge from the pool, and smiled in spite of himself at Chloe's rush to bring her a towel. It made him happy to see Trula happy, to see her enjoy this child so, to know that her love for that little girl was so freely, so openly returned. He gave silent thanks to Emme Caldwell for having answered the Mercy Street Foundation's call for investigators as quickly as she had. Without realizing it, she'd brought life back into Robert's world, which Kevin had once referred to as the Dead Zone, and he, Robert, would always be grateful.