carefully selected. Whoever put little David in the basket and left him on that doorstep knew exactly what she was doing.”
“The plot thickens, eh?” Sonny said.
“Yeah,” Mel agreed. “The plot thickens, and I want it up to a real good boil when I find the woman who dumped her kid.”
He saw the curious look return to Sonny’s eyes and realized his tone had been a lot harsher than he intended. He stood up, picked up his coat and headed toward the door. “I’m going to run some leads. Good luck with your homicide.”
“You bet.” Sonny waved goodbye as he reached for the computer mouse and began his own work.
Mel was at a loss for the moment. It would take days to find all the private clinics around Washington, and then collect warrants to search their records. He doubted his superiors would put that much time, manpower and effort into finding a woman who’d thrown her baby away. No, Mel was going to have to work this case mostly on his own.
And to do so effectively, he would have to play his hunches.
He got in his car and drove over to the brightly lit building that housed one of the nation’s most powerful newspapers. When he found a comfortable spot to watch the employee parking lot, he settled down and waited for Lily Markey to appear.
LILY GATHERED UP her things from her desk at the Post and was almost away from her desk when she heard her boss clear his throat behind her.
“When can I expect that story on white-collar spousal abuse?” he asked.
“I’m working on it.” Lily tucked her notebook in her purse.
“What’s the holdup?” Bill Smith asked.
“I’m…waiting for an interview to gel.” Lily finally met his gaze. More than anything she wanted to tell her boss the truth, but it was too dangerous. She’d crossed the line from journalist to activist, and Susie Bishop’s safety hung in the balance. If she ran the story on spousal abuse now, it would be a red flag to Wayman Bishop.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” Bill asked. He was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and above-average intelligence.
“Not right now.” She dropped her gaze. “I’ll get the story. You know I always do.”
“You’re reputation isn’t in question, Lily. I’m just wondering why you’re acting like a cat on a hot tin roof.” His look was astute and calculating.
“Gotta go, Bill.” She flashed him a smile, albeit a forced one. “I have an interview and it may be the icing on the cake.” She thought of something truthful she could add. “I told you when I thought of doing this story that it might be Pulitzer material. I still think that. But I need time to be sure that I get everything just right.”
“You’ve got the time, Lily. Just don’t step off in water over your head. You’re up to something. I’m just not sure what it is.”
She didn’t bother to answer. Prevarication wasn’t her favorite form of communication, especially with a man she respected as much as Bill Smith. She headed out the door of the newsroom and straight to the grocery store where she picked up some items she hoped would make Susie Bishop a little more comfortable. She didn’t notice the gray sedan that fell in behind her as she drove toward one of Washington’s worst districts.
Chapter Three
Lily slowed her car to a near crawl as she turned right on Cedar Street. The name was so inappropriate that she allowed herself a bitter chuckle. If there had ever been a tree—or even a blade of grass—along this street, none of the residents had lived long enough to remember it.
Whatever green and lovely visions had inspired the name of Cedar Street were long gone. All that remained was bleak pavement, torn and twisted chain-link fencing, broken bottles and broken streetlights. It looked as if a war had been fought in the not-too-distant past and the street abandoned. The only sign of life was the blue flicker of a few television screens in the windows of the run-down homes that she passed.
A flash of car lights in the rearview mirror got her attention. She instantly tensed, her hand checking the automatic door lock to be sure she’d clicked it on. In the otherwise deserted street, the approaching car seemed dangerous.
She pulled to the curb and waited, noting that the car had hesitated, then picked up speed as it drew abreast of her. She looked at the solitary driver, feeling a sense of shock at the profile she recognized. Detective Mel Haskin. And he was pulling up ahead of her.
Fear of being injured instantly gave way to anger. Why was the policeman following her? She was a law-abiding citizen—at least, most of the time. Why was Mel so obviously tailing her? And why hadn’t she paid more attention to who was behind her?
At his approach she rolled down her window. “You’d better have a damn good reason for following me, or at the very least a search warrant for my car.”
Mel didn’t answer immediately. His gaze swept over the interior of the car, and Lily was glad she’d put the groceries in the trunk. Though the items were innocuous enough, there were things that might make him believe she was visiting someone who was sick.
“This is a dangerous neighborhood, Lily. I hope you have a good reason for being here.”
She was surprised at his use of her given name. “Good enough, and also personal. What are you doing here? Is it Detective Haskin or Mel?” She saw that he registered her point. And by his next words, she knew he had ignored it.
“I’m following you.”
His bluntness made her take a deep breath. Had he found out about David? What was he going to do? “What? Do I have an outstanding parking ticket?” She decided to bluff her way through the situation.
“Try again.”
“I know. I didn’t pay for my tickets to the policeman’s ball.” She put another degree of unpleasantness in her voice.
“Give it one more try.” Mel Haskin, on the other hand, was using the condescending tone of a man talking to a child.
“You tell me,” Lily said, very angry.
“Suspicious behavior,” he said casually.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Lily said. “I’ve got a right to be anywhere I choose, as long as I’m not violating the law. I also have a right not to be harassed by the police.”
“Reporters all seem to think they have a lot more rights than other people,” Mel said, his tone still conversational, though his dark eyes crackled with intensity.
“I’ll give you one more chance. What do you want? Either tell me or leave me alone. If you don’t comply, I’ll have to go to your superior and explain that you’ve been following me and harassing me.”
“You do that—and while you’re there, I want you to explain to my superior what you’re doing in this part of town late at night. This is a far cry from the posh neighborhood where the Johnsons reside. I’m just wondering if your presence in both places somehow links them together.”
