style="font-size:15px;"> “What do you think?” he continued. “Do you think my sister and brother-in-law stole your sister’s child?”
He gripped Sophie’s shoulders and gave her a quick shake. A whisper of anxiousness filtered through her. She knew he’d never hurt her. He wasn’t that type of man, but she’d never seen the depth of fury in his eyes she saw there now.
“Your niece is dead, Sophie,” he continued. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone. Forever. Stay away from my family.”
No, Sophie screamed silently. Robin wasn’t dead. She was in the next room singing to the woman who had adopted her.
Someone cleared his throat, and Sophie and Gary both turned quickly to spot Trevor James standing in the doorway. Instead of showing any concern over his intrusion, he instead wore an expression of annoyance, as if they were in his way.
He tipped his chin toward the refrigerator. “Need to grab one of my beverages.”
They both watched wordlessly as he crossed the room, opened the appliance door and took out a bottle of vitamin-enhanced water.
“Carry on,” he said glibly as he headed back out into the hall.
Gary’s eyes narrowed, focused on James’s back. “Pompous—”
“Look at her birthmark,” Sophie interrupted, forcing her voice through her throat, now tight with emotion. She kept her speaking volume low, not wanting to be overheard by the others down the hall. “Robin had an identical mark. Identical.”
The heat of her determination fired in her cheeks and she knew she’d lost all semblance of professional cool. She could care less.
“People can have similar birthmarks.” Gary dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her.
Sophie’s frustration soared, overwhelming her. She jammed her finger into his chest, flinching when he caught her hand in his fist.
“Not similar. Identical.” She pressed the point, refusing to be intimidated by anything Gary said or did.
“It’s impossible.” He leaned close, not letting go of her hand. “That little girl out there is the light of my sister’s life. She’s my niece. My niece.” He shook his head. “Not yours.”
Sophie wriggled her fingers free. “What if you’re wrong? Are you willing to live with not knowing? I know you, Gary. You live for the story. Live for the truth.
“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you can walk away from the possibility I may be right?”
Gary stood his ground, not giving her the satisfaction of so much as a blink.
Yet another male throat cleared and Sophie snapped her attention to the doorway. Cookie leaned against the doorjamb, the look on his face making it abundantly clear he’d heard every word.
Sophie grimaced. She could only hope their voices hadn’t carried to where Maggie and her daughter sat.
“I hate to interrupt,” Cook said. “We’ve got to go. Breaking story.”
Sophie welcomed the excuse to walk away from the argument, even though her anger had reached its boiling point. Blood roared in her ears, and she was certain her normally pale complexion was flush with color.
Gary reached for her arm as she passed, but she dodged his touch. “We’re not through discussing this,” he called after her, anger heavy in his voice.
Sophie paused at the doorway, turning back to pin him with her gaze. “That’s where you’re wrong. This discussion is most definitely over.”
But as she headed out of the house toward the van, she knew Gary would never let the topic drop that easily. He’d make contact again, and before he did she had better get her thoughts—and emotions—in check.
HOURS LATER, JOHN COOK PULLED the news van back into the WNJZ parking lot. Sophie didn’t know about the older man, but she was exhausted and hungry. Her head had been pounding ever since she’d left the Alexanders’ home, and spending seven hours covering a hostage situation hadn’t done much to ease her tension.
“Want to tell me about it?” Cookie asked.
“What? My headache?” Sophie rolled her neck, then massaged her pounding temples. She could feel Cook’s visual scrutiny, but she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d take a hint.
“Whatever you and Gary Barksdale were arguing about earlier.”
Apparently Cookie wasn’t going to let this one go without forcing the issue.
“Sounded pretty intense. Did I hear you mention Becca and Robin?”
Sophie spun on him, gracing him with one of her trademark glares. “How about if I give you a transcript? Would that ease your curiosity?”
Her venom didn’t make the man flinch, not in the least. He knew her too well, knew all of her acts of bravado were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.
“Feel better?” He crooked a gray brow.
“No.” She slouched in her seat, regretting her inappropriate outburst. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Nope.” He shook his head and patted her arm. “I didn’t, but I’m glad I could be here to take the heat. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to use the wide-angle lens the next time I film you?”
It was his favorite threat, and it never failed to make Sophie smile.
“Anything but that.” She pulled herself upright in the seat and took a deep breath. “You have to give me your word you won’t tell a soul.”
Cookie nodded. “You know you don’t have to remind me of that.”
“You’re right.” Sophie swallowed before she continued. “Did you notice the Alexanders’ daughter?”
Cookie let loose with a chuckle that rumbled the windows of the van. “The whirlwind with the lollipop, the coloring books and the off-note singing?”
Sophie nodded. “I think she could be Robin.”
Cook blinked, then his eyes narrowed. Silence stretched between them. “How?”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. He knew her well enough to know she’d have thought through every possible angle before making such a statement.
“You remember there were no remains, right?”
He nodded without saying a word, lines of concern etching the corners of his eyes.
“Did I ever tell you about her birthmark?”
Cookie shook his head.
“A butterfly,” Sophie continued. “A perfect butterfly.” She pointed to the nape of her neck. “Right here.”
“Just like the Alexander
