The Wrong Girl

81

Jane stabbed the elevator button, again and again. If the Register people didn’t fix this, she was going to-Damn. No time.

She yanked open the stairwell door, raced up the three flights, down the hall, and toward Alex’s office. She stood in the hallway, catching her breath.

Scrabbling her hair into place and clutching Ella’s bag of documents-Alex was gonna love the footprint thing-she headed toward his office, marshaling her pitch. She’d have the scoop on the arrest for the Lillian Finch murder. No conflict of interest there. They couldn’t lay her off now.

A flutter in her chest as she approached Alex’s office. Calm down, Jane.

She would dig up the whole deal on what happened at the Brannigan, too. The Tuck thing-well, that was a happy ending. Happy-ish. But what documents had burned in the fire? Had other families been sent the wrong children? It could be a huge story. But she’d need time to research it. And write it. She’d need a job to make that happen.

Alex was there, she saw him through the window in his jeans and starched oxford shirt, standing behind his desk, sorting manila folders. Not on the phone.

She knocked, twice, didn’t wait for an okay.

“Alex, listen to this!” She was smiling, big time, but hey, this was a big scoop. “I’ve got a hell of a story.”

Alex did not return her smile.

“Yeah, Jane.” He gestured her toward the couch. Which was empty. No piles of files, no documents, no clutter. Just couch.

“Sit down, okay?” he said.

Her face went cold. Her heart weighed a million pounds. The layoffs. What Hec-whoever-had warned her about. This was it. She was being laid off.

“What, Alex?” She stayed in the doorway, struggled to hide her emotions.

“You know we’ve had some… difficulties, here at the Register,” Alex said. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face. That’s why I haven’t been answering your calls. Really. Please sit.”

Jane lowered herself to the couch, then stood again.

“Am I-,” she began. She could take it. “Just tell me.”

“You’re fine,” Alex said. “The fifth floor is impressed. You’re tough, and determined, and a real team player. Now that Leonard Perl’s arrested-the whole Hec Underhill thing-you’re clear to come back.”

“So why did-?”

“It’s me they’re letting go, Jane. Someone had to take the hit for hiring Hec. And that was me.”

Jane sat down. Stared at her knees for a silent moment.

“I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t fired. It was Alex. That’s why no one had told her.

“I’ll be fine, Jane. I’ve got a lead on a new job in Washington, D.C. Your pal Amy still there? Maybe we can all have dinner. Sometime. Now that I’m not… your boss anymore.”

“But that’s so unfair.” Getting blamed for something he couldn’t have known. He’d gotten her this job. Backed her. Trusted her. Now he was leaving.

“Life’s not fair. It’s only short.” Finally he smiled. “My last day isn’t until tomorrow. Tell me about your story.”

Jake would never feel comfortable holding an infant. Little Diane had a death grip on his forefinger. Her tiny fingers barely made it around. He shifted on Bethany’s living room couch, worrying.

“You’re a natural,” Bethany Sibbach said. “Look how she’s cuddling into you. You ever thought about having kids, Detective?”

He had, of course. And someday, maybe soon, he’d want to talk about it, with Jane. But it was this little girl whose future he was interested in now. He’d promised Maggie Gunnison he’d make sure Diane Marie was taken care of. He’d been haunted by that. Now they were onto the whole scheme, and the DA had taken over.

But why should the baby be an innocent victim? He’d called Bethany to see if there was anything he could do. Instead of answering, she’d asked him to come over.

“Me and kids? That’s a story for another day,” Jake said. “But this particular kid-”

“-is staying with me,” Bethany said. “We knew her birth mother is deceased, and her father-unknown. So. I wanted to tell you in person. I got the okay from the DFS director. She pulled some strings. Special circumstances. Paperwork’s making its way through the system. She’ll be Diane Marie Sibbach. I’ll be her mom.”

Bethany tickled the little girl gently under her chin, scooped her out of Jake’s arms. “Right, sweetie? Right?”

“Phillip and Phoebe?” Jake asked. They were both upstairs, naptime. Bethany told him Phillip had seemed to recognize Diane, but wasn’t particularly interested.

“Off the record? We have a wonderful family all set to adopt them.” Bethany’s eyes were on Diane, swaddled in pink fleece, only her pudgy face showing. “I’ll keep special watch on them, extra close. We can’t control everyone’s lives, Detective. In foster care families, as in any family, we can’t make certain everything works out for every child. All we can do is love them. And do our best.”