being kept under wraps.”
Stef rolled her eyes. From the tone of Mitch’s voice, she wasn’t going to get any information out of him about the Collingwoods. Maybe she’d have better luck with his boss.
Keely popped the cup out of her mouth and twined her tiny fingers in Stef’s hair. “Mommy, beddy-bye story?”
“Sure, baby.” Stef curled an arm across her daughter’s body as if shielding her from Mitch’s real-life tales of pseudonymous detectives, celebrity stalkers and murderers.
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Keely, who lived in a cozy blue house on Maple Lane. One fall day Keely and her mommy were outside raking leaves when they heard a bell-like voice say, ‘Ouch!’ Keely looked down into the grass and found a tiny fairy who was just big enough to fit in her hand. The fairy was crying. The rake had ripped one of her beautiful wings and now she couldn’t fly home.”
She made a scooping motion with her hand and held it up to her daughter’s face. “Keely took the fairy home and made a soft bed for her with her snuggie. And her mommy put a special bandage on the fairy’s wing. The next morning when the fairy woke up, her wing was all better and she could fly home. To thank Keely, the fairy promised to grant her one special wish. And what did Keely wish for?”
Kee popped the cup out of her mouth again and yawned sleepily. “A daddy.”
Stef gaped at her in surprise. Where the heck had that answer come from? Keely had never said anything like that before. But then, she’d never been whisked away from her bed at night by her mommy and a towering stranger, whom she perceived as making her mommy sad. Keely was just a baby. Too young to understand that her daddy had died and gone to heaven. But instinctively old enough to articulate that she wanted a daddy to protect her and her mommy from Mitch.
Stef’s heart broke. Keely didn’t need a daddy. She had a mommy who loved her more than life itself and surely a judge would recognize that and rule in Keely’s best interests even if Stef wasn’t Keely’s biological mother. No matter how big of a fortune was involved.
Yeah, and Stef had bought into the fairy tale that she and Brad would live happily ever after, too.
“Oh, Kee,” she whispered, pressing her mouth against her daughter’s silky head and fighting to keep her tears from clogging her throat and upsetting Keely even more. “That’s a lovely wish. Now close your eyes and go to sleep just like the fairy.”
Softly, very softly, Stef sang her daughter the “I love you” song they’d invented and glared at the sleek golden outline of Mitch Halloran’s head.
MITCH SWORE under his breath as he attempted to tune out the love and desperation in Stef’s voice as she sang to Keely.
He’d witnessed some horrible things in his career—butchered bodies, neglected and abused children, junkies so strung out they’d take a life for a couple of bucks to buy their next fix. Now he could add this poignant moment to that list of worst evers.
All he could do was hold fiercely to the fragile cord of hope that somehow Stef Shelton would get her real daughter back alive. Or this would destroy her.
Just as another girl’s death had destroyed another heartbroken woman who had depended on him. Theresa Lopez had died of a stroke eight months after Carmen’s death.
Decisions usually came easy to Mitch. He didn’t waste time agonizing over what to do. He made a decision and went with it until the circumstances changed and he had to make another decision. Paddy had taught him that valuable lesson after Mitch had been dumped on his doorstep because his mother’s boyfriend didn’t like having a teenage boy with an attitude hanging around. The visit with his grandfather was supposed to be for a few days. But those few days had stretched into a month, then a couple of months.
After watching Mitch check the window every time a car pulled in the drive, Paddy had told him he had to quit worrying about when and if his mother was coming back—events he couldn’t control—and to make a decision to soldier on and focus on things he could control such as making friends, getting good grades and figuring out what his mission in life was. Most importantly, deciding what kind of man he wanted to be.
Mitch had used Paddy’s advice to control his destiny ever since—cracking the books to get the grades he needed to get a degree in criminal justice, busting his ass in the police academy and distinguishing himself as a detective.
He stole another look at Stef in the rearview mirror. Her left arm was curled protectively around the top of the car seat, her head pillowed on her shoulder. He steeled his emotions to the heartbreaking story of love and fear her body language projected.
“Is she asleep?” he asked tentatively, trying to establish a rapport with her. Whether she liked it or not, he was in this with her.
Her tone was charged with rebellion. “Yes, finally.”
Oh, boy.
He kept his tone even. “I know this is rough, but I need to ask you some questions.”
“Such as?”
“Do you remember anything unusual happening in the hospital after Keely’s birth? Did you see anyone suspicious near your child? Maybe a nurse or a hospital worker?”
“Why would I tell you anything that would help you succeed in your ridiculous claim that Keely isn’t my child?”
“Because, ma’am, deep down you know my claim is not ridiculous and beneath the anger and the fear you’re feeling, you want to do everything you can to get your daughter back home to you safely.”
She snorted. “If you knew anything about my feelings, Mr. Halloran, you’d stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ Or maybe you don’t want to do that because you sleep better at night by treating people as if they’re just another nameless face.”
He felt a strong poke in his shoulder. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain relaxed and to not tense up. He assumed it was her finger and not a gun, but who knew to what extremes a distraught parent might go under the threat of having to give up their child?
“You take a good look at my face, Halloran,” she continued bitterly. “My name is Stef Shelton. This is my life we’re talking about. My family. So don’t you talk to me like I’m some nameless, faceless person.”
Her words hit Mitch like a match to a fuse. He jerked the car over to the side of the road, switched on the overhead light and turned to face her.
There was no gun. Just one very defiant woman, who was in real danger of losing her family. His stomach catapulted again.
He pointed two fingers at his eyes, his voice just as hard as hers had been. “Stef, look at me. Right here. I can’t afford to be emotional or I’d spend half my waking hours guzzling beer and the other half puking my guts out over the stuff I see day in, day out. I am thinking about your life. Your family. Your daughter. I want to know who took her, and I want to get her back for you alive. Now answer my goddamn question.” The hardness in his voice turned to a plea. “Please.”
He saw the defiance leak out of her, saw her eyes turn to liquid gold in her pale face as they filled with new tears. His chest grew unbearably tight. She was a nice woman. And hot enough that he’d take a second interested glance if she weren’t intimately connected with the case. Stef
