A Daughter's Story (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

E
MMA
MEANT
TO
GO
straight home after her meeting with the
detective. She’d like to have gone to her mother’s, to share what she’d learned
about Claire, but she’d never been able to trust Rose when it came to her little
sister. Her mother would insist on visiting the woman from Aurora in prison.
She’d stop at nothing to find out why Claire had been in that home.

She’d want to do everything Lucy Hayes was doing for them, and
she’d likely go without sleeping or eating in the process.

“You’ve reached Cal Whittier. Please leave a message.”

Sitting in her parked car outside of the Caffeine Café, Emma
said, “Hey, big brother, it’s me. I just met with Detective Hayes. Walters
didn’t have Claire, Cal.…” She paused as tears choked her up, and then,
swallowing, said, “They did get a hit on the DNA, though. They don’t have
anything solid, but they believe that at some point Claire was in a house in
Aurora where black-market adoptions were conducted, but they don’t think Claire
was adopted. Anyway, call me when you get a chance.”

She hung up and stared out at the bustling street, the couples
holding hands, harried women with seemingly important places to be.

She brought up a virtual notepad on her cell phone. She had a
journal entry to make. One that she’d copy into her book when she got home.

3. I need other women in my life—and their presence won’t make me
disloyal to my mother or to Claire.

Closing the notepad function, she knew that she’d found another
self-truth.

Now she had to figure out what to do with the rest of this
Friday night.

There were plenty of things she could do. Places she could go.
Even teacher friends she could call who would be happy to see a movie with her
or catch up over dinner. She could do some quilting, or lesson planning. She had
project booklets to create for the senior-class trip to Washington, D.C., in
December.

What she wanted to do was drink a glass of wine and listen to
piano music.

She had to call Chris before he just stopped by her house
again. With another home pregnancy test.

And if he did, would she send him away?

Emma didn’t trust herself to do so. She also didn’t want him to
have her number. She didn’t want to be able to hope that he’d call her.

She had to see him. On neutral ground. With other people
around. So she’d keep her clothes on.

She had to make sure he didn’t show up at her door again.

But what about the wine? What if Chris was right and she was
pregnant? She couldn’t drink if she was pregnant.

Oh, God. She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t handle any
more right now. Her period wasn’t even late.

Still, just in case, she’d stick with tea.

* * *

C
HRIS
SIPPED
HIS
beer slowly, watching Cody make drinks, clean glasses and carry on
conversations that made his customers feel important all at the same time. Don
Carmine had one hell of an employee in that young man.

“I thought you’d be playing tonight.” The statement came from
behind Chris and he swung around, not liking the way that voice made him feel,
as though he’d just brought in a week’s worth of lobster in a day. “Emma.”

She shouldn’t be there. Not with him there. It was why he’d
called. They shouldn’t be seen together.

“Did you get my message?”

“Yeah.” She looked far too good in her proper teacher clothes.
And the way her hair was tied back only made him itch to untie it, to see those
dark curls fan out around her.

He had it bad.

And she had to stay away from him for another reason. He’d had
a visitor at the dock earlier that evening. He’d been threatened. And he didn’t
think the threat was an idle one.

Chris wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for Emma. But he
didn’t believe anything would happen to her in public.

“Have a seat.” He pulled out the stool next to him. She was
there now. If she’d been seen with him, it was already too late. And he had to
let her know why he’d called. He had to let her know what was going on.

Cody appeared with a glass of white wine, but Emma shook her
head. “I’ll just have tea,” she said.

Chris’s muscles tensed up. Leaning over so that only she would
hear, he asked, “Are you starting to feel pregnant?”

The quick shake of her head wasn’t very reassuring.

“You worried yet?”

“No.” She looked him straight in the eye. “There’s nothing to
worry about, Chris,” she said, and he began to wonder if she was trying to
convince him, or herself. “I have your phone number now so I can call you and
let you know when you’re off the hook.”

“It’s not just me on the hook,” he reminded her.

“I know. I didn’t mean… I just… I’m not your concern and
there’s no reason why I should be and—”

He didn’t like her brush-off any better than he liked the fact
that she had showed up tonight.

“What do you mean, you aren’t my concern? I’m very concerned
about the effect any repercussions from our night together would have on
you.”

Her silence shut him out. He didn’t want her to shut him
out.

“Are you playing in the competition tonight?” she asked,
motioning toward the dais. “Have you been up already?”

“No. I was late tonight. Missed getting a number.”

“You’re just here to drink?”

I’m here because I’d hoped you’d show
up.
“I’ll play as soon as the competition wraps up. It’s kind of a
standing arrangement.”

She grinned. “You get the piano anytime you want, you
mean.”

Shrugging, Chris took another sip of beer. She felt good. Being
with her felt good.

Just for the moment.

The door opened and a tall, thin man entered. He had short dark
hair and was wearing a business suit.

Chris’s first instinct was to grab Emma’s hand and head out the
back way.

“What?” she asked, and glancing back at her he saw her looking
between him and the stranger who’d just walked in.

“I thought I recognized him, but I was wrong.”

“I think I feel sorry for whoever you thought he was,” Emma
told him, her brow furrowed.

Chris sipped his beer, sized her up and said, “That’s actually
what I called you about.”

“I thought you called to find out what my doctor said.”

“Someone was waiting for me at the dock this evening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Rob Evert came to see me.”

Emma stiffened, her expression changing her into a woman he
hardly recognized. “Rob came to see you? Whatever for?”

“He says you’re engaged to him.”

“He’s lying.” The words were unequivocal.

“I had a feeling he was,” Chris told her. “But I’m guessing
it’s his ring that left that white mark on your finger.”

She took her left hand off the bar and slid it under her thigh.
“Yeah. He’s the guy I told you about.”

“The one you found fooling around that first day we met?”

“Right.”

Chris hadn’t liked the guy even before he’d known who he was.
Hadn’t liked the ego that preceded him by about two feet. Once the guy had
introduced himself, his dislike had turned to disgust.

“He warned me to stay away from you, Emma.”

“He had no business doing that.”

“I figured as much. But he wasn’t in any frame of mind to be
reasonable.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s not so much what he did as how he did it. He was clearly
agitated and he let me know, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn’t stay away
from you, he’d make certain that you stayed away from me.”

Frowning, Emma asked, “How did he even know to find you?”

“At first I thought you told him where I worked. But he said
something about watching you and your house. Like he’s appointed himself your
bodyguard.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. There was something not quite right about him.
Like he wasn’t quite stable. And it sounds as if he’s been following you, or
having you followed, since you broke it off. He knew about both the times I’d
been at your house.”

“I can’t believe this. Rob was possessive, but not like this.
It doesn’t even make sense to me. He’s never shown any signs of
being…unstable.”

“Maybe because you’ve never broken up with him before. I’m
telling you, to hear the guy talk, you all have set a date and are sending out
invitations. If things are as you said, if you’ve told him you want nothing more
to do with him, then I think you should call the police.”

* * *

“O
N
R
OB
?” E
MMA
could hardly believe
what she was hearing. “I figured he wouldn’t give up easily,” she said. “Rob has
a hard time letting go of what he believes is his. But I’ve never been afraid of
him.”

It was an odd thought that her ex-fiancé was watching her. She
would never have guessed he’d waste his time that way.

“I should have called the cops immediately,” Chris said, “but I
didn’t think you were in any immediate danger, as long as I kept away from you,
and I wanted to speak with you first. I called you as soon as he left and I’ve
been waiting for your return call. But now you’re here. He probably knows that
we’re together, and I won’t feel right about you walking out of here. I really
think we should file a report.”

She thought of calling Lucy Hayes. She was comfortable with the
detective. Trusted her not to overreact. But they were way out of the female
detective’s jurisdiction.

Besides, Lucy was heading back to Aurora that weekend.

“I’m telling you, this wasn’t just a fit of jealousy,” Chris
said. Emma loved his voice. And the concerned look in his eyes as he watched
her. She didn’t want to be afraid.

She was tired of being afraid.

“He just doesn’t know how to take rejection.” Emma tried to
explain the man she’d spent many years with—the man she’d planned to marry. Rob
had his faults, but he’d had some really good qualities, too. “He’s not used to
losing at anything.” Neither was he a violent man.

Or a vindictive one.

“I got the sense that this was about more than jealousy or
ego,” Chris continued, “although he had more than his share of the latter. He
said he’d put in five years and had too much at stake to let you walk away from
him. He said he isn’t going to let someone else collect what he’s earned. It
didn’t sound as if he was referring to your heart.”

“That makes no sense to me. I’m a teacher. My mother is a
principal, and her salary was recently cut. We do fine, but any extra money we
have is spent on our efforts campaigning. We have no savings at all. Rob knows
all of that.”

“I’m just telling you what I heard,” Chris was saying. His
serious expression, the tone of his voice, was scaring her. “I can’t make you go
to the police, but if you don’t, I’m going to call and make a report.”

“Okay, I’ll contact them,” Emma said. At least that way she’d
have some control. “I’d like to give Detective Ramsey Miller a call, if you
don’t mind. He’s with the Comfort Cove Police Department.”

“Is he working on your sister’s case?”

“Yeah. So maybe this is out of his jurisdiction, but he’ll know
who we should talk to.”

“Fine.” Chris’s chin jutted as he gave a short nod. “Can you
call him now?”

“Tonight?”

“This guy could be outside right now. Or at your house.
Waiting. I’d feel better if the cops knew where he was. Especially now that
we’ve disregarded his warning.”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse. Calling the police on
Rob? She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

And wondered if there was something the matter with her that
she couldn’t seem to say no to this fisherman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

D
ETECTIVE
R
AMSEY
M
ILLER
was okay with following leads
that led to dead ends. Leads that forced him to considerate alternate paths. He
was okay with questions that came without obvious answers. With working every
hour of every day that God gave him.

He wasn’t okay with little girls disappearing without a
trace.

“What we have here is missing forensic evidence and forensic
evidence turning up in a black-market baby ring in Aurora.” Lucy Hayes looked at
him from across the conference table in the squad room after-hours on Friday
night and summed up the day’s progress. Folders and transcripts and scraps of
paper covered the scarred old table.

She was due to fly out of Boston on Sunday. They had a lot to
do between now and then.

Claire Sanderson was not one of Walters’s victims. For that he
was thankful.

“Let’s say whoever took the evidence also planted it at Mrs.
Buckley’s place,” Ramsey supposed out loud. The seventy-year-old woman who’d
been locked up for eight years had sworn to them by conference call that evening
that she knew nothing about a toddler girl in her home twenty-five years
before.

“I dealt only with newborns,” she’d insisted, confessing only
that much off the record, even after they’d hinted at a deal—giving her a chance
at a lesser sentence, and maybe some immunity—if she was able to help them solve
this crime.

“You think whoever took the box of Claire’s evidence from your
vault also knew about Buckley’s operation?” Lucy grabbed their copies of the
baby photos that had been confiscated from the Buckley mansion, studying them
again.

Ramsey had had their sketch artist play around with the photos
they had of Claire Sanderson to see if he could find any evidence of a likeness
to Claire among the Buckley photos.

“Maybe the thief wants us to think that Claire was
adopted.”

“Maybe she
was
adopted,” Lucy said,
staring at Ramsey. “Maybe what we have here is a baby who was stolen, adopted by
Rose Sanderson, and then taken back. For whatever reason.”

“Like maybe a biological father who didn’t know he had a
daughter until too late and then wanted her back.” He ran with the theory.

“Or a mother who was young, or even not so young, whose
circumstances changed, who regretted giving up her baby, knew she had no legal
recourse since she’d sold her child illegally, but felt she had a right to raise
her own child.” Lucy watched him.

“And if Rose Sanderson knew she bought the baby illegally, she
wasn’t likely to put the police on Buckley’s trail.” They could have something
here. “Do you know if anyone actually saw Rose pregnant with Claire?”

“It’s not on record but I doubt the question was ever
asked.”

Lucy’s expression changed from wide-eyed anticipation to
disappointment. “But if she wasn’t putting the police on Buckley’s trail for
fear of being found out, why would she put the police on any trail at all?”

“Because she fell in love with the baby she adopted? Because
she sees Claire as her own?”

The woman across from him riffled through the piles of
paperwork on the table and came up with a legal-looking document. “A copy of
Claire Sanderson’s birth certificate.”

Ramsey produced a folder. “Copies of all of the forged birth
certificates.”

Lucy smiled. “Claire’s could be fake.”

“And this whole theory could easily be disproven,” Ramsey
realized.

“With the DNA sample from Emma Sanderson,” Lucy finished for
him. Too bad the detective lived a few states away. She thought enough like him
to be a damned good partner.

Shawn had called with the results of the test, telling them
only that Claire hadn’t been a match for Walters, but he’d offered to fax a full
report over that evening. Ramsey went to see if it had come in. Lucy was
studying the Buckley report when he returned.

“That theory’s dead,” he said. “Claire Sanderson’s DNA was a
close match to Emma’s. Shawn says there’s no doubt that the two are closely
related.”

“Okay, well, Mrs. Buckley had clients as far south as Florida
and as far north as Maine,” Lucy said. “She also had several from Massachusetts,
which means that the people involved in this kind of thing in Massachusetts knew
about her, right? Maybe the guy who took Claire didn’t realize that Buckley only
dealt with newborns. Maybe he took Claire to Buckley, but, ultimately, didn’t
sell her there.”

“Or maybe he knew, but hoped to persuade her otherwise and
failed.”

“Buckley was pretty adamant that she’d never seen Claire.”

“She could be lying, but why?”

He shook his head.

“Could be that Claire’s abductor found out about Buckley’s
arrest, knew about the DNA samples that police were able to get from the woman’s
house and was afraid those samples would lead police to Claire Sanderson.”

Ramsey dissected the theory on the spot. “That would be motive
for stealing the box of evidence from our vault,” he said. “Buckley’s been in
jail for years, but we have no idea how long the box of evidence has been
missing.”

“Do you have a record of everyone going in and out of the
storage room here? As you’ve said all along, chances are good that whoever took
that evidence had an inside connection.”

Ramsey dug through his piles and came up with the folder.

Lucy took it from him. “I’ll go through the report from the
Buckley case and we can compare the two. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

She smiled as though her team had just scored a home run.

Ramsey studied her. “All of this work, the years of
searching—and other than the original police report on your sister, you’ve found
nothing. Don’t you ever want to give up?”

Lucy looked him in the eye. “Would you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I’ve never had a sibling, or a
child, to know what losing one feels like.”

“You lost your wife, Miller, when she left you. That
counts.”

He’d seen Hayes’s determination to get to the truth. And he
wasn’t going to find himself on the other end of that. “Then, no, I wouldn’t
quit until I had my answers.”

His phone rang. He was glad for the diversion.

“Miller.”

He glanced at Lucy as he recognized the name of his caller. And
when he heard the reason for the call, he knew it was going to be another long
night.

* * *

“I
DON
’
T
LIKE
this.” Lucy Hayes,
dressed in plain clothes in Emma’s living room Saturday afternoon, directed her
comment to Detective Miller.

Chris was siding with her. He didn’t like Miller’s plan at
all.

“Are you objecting on the grounds that the plan doesn’t have
merit or because you’re feeling protective?” Miller said to the other
detective.

Lucy raised her chin. “I’m objecting because I don’t like it,”
she said. “We have an overjealous ex, who must be watched, I agree. But to use
Emma to get him to incriminate himself? I don’t like it.”

Chris had received Emma’s message regarding this meeting when
he’d returned to shore that afternoon. He’d come straight from the docks,
without taking the time to change the shorts and T-shirt he’d worn under his
coveralls all day.

“You saw how he was last night,” Miller said, leaning away from
Chris and Emma. “We each took our shot at him and came up empty.”

After he’d received Emma’s call the night before, Miller had
picked up Rob Evert for questioning on a possible harassment charge.

Miller faced Emma and Chris, who were sitting on opposite ends
of the couch. “Last night wasn’t the first time Evert was uncooperative. We
approached him after we met with Emma and Cal on Monday. Because he was close
with the family, we wanted to talk to him. To see if he could shed any new light
or perspective on the work Emma and her mother do, or provide us with any leads
as to who could have taken that box of evidence. He refused to speak with
us.”

“Rob wouldn’t talk to you after Cal and I met with you?” Even
now Emma seemed surprised by the man’s actions. Which made her that much more
vulnerable as far as Chris was concerned.

“He said not to bother him again unless we had a warrant or
subpoena,” Detective Hayes said softly. “I assumed he reacted that way because
you’d recently broken up with him, but now I’m not so sure. Why would he think
we’d want to get a warrant or subpoena?”

“And considering Chris’s account of his interaction with Evert,
combined with Evert’s uncooperative behavior when we picked him up for
questioning last night, I believe we should use all available means to find out
what this guy’s up to,” Miller said.

“Rob didn’t have anything to do with Claire’s disappearance,
that’s for sure,” Emma said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and wrapping
it with an elastic band from around her wrist. “He was only six at the
time.”

“We already had him checked out,” Hayes said. “We had someone
on that on Tuesday and nothing turned up.”

“Rob grew up in Idaho,” Emma said. “He moved to Boston on a
basketball scholarship and ended up settling here in Comfort Cove.”

The female detective nodded. “And every bit of that checks
out.”

“There’s something the guy doesn’t want us to know,” Miller
said to the room at large. “Am I the only one here who wants to find out what
that is?”

“No.” Emma rubbed her hands along her jeans. “I’ll do whatever
it takes to figure out what’s going on. I’m shocked that he refused to speak
with you earlier in the week. He’s always been completely supportive of our
efforts to find Claire.”

“I believe he’s hiding something, as well,” Hayes said. “I just
don’t like involving Emma in this.”

“I’m the only one he’s interested in. Who else could do this
but me?” Emma focused on the female detective. “Like you posing as a wealthy
infertile woman for the Buckley case.”

Emma wasn’t backing down. Chris admired her bravery—and didn’t
like it one bit.

She’d gone from the best one-night stand of his life to a
regular fixture.

And the more he tried to get her out of his life, the more
deeply entangled they became.

Sara would make a mountain out of this one. Which was why he
was never, ever going to be stupid enough to tell her about Emma.

“We can keep a watch on him, wait for something to turn up,
hope that he makes a mistake, turns his hand—”

“—but that could take months. Or never happen,” Emma broke in,
her beautiful face lined with a mixture of concern, frustration, fear. “I don’t
think Rob would hurt me, or anyone, really, but after what he said to Chris, I
just don’t know anymore. I’d rather find out what’s going on than to have to
spend days and weeks worrying about what he might be up to. Or to have him
stalking me. I can’t leave town, or afford a bodyguard. And if there’s any
chance that what he’s doing has any connection to Claire, then…”

Chris wasn’t going to win this one.

“I’m in,” he said.

* * *

“I
WANT
TO
get this over with as
quickly as possible,” Emma said. Sharing her couch with Chris Talbot was getting
to be a habit, she thought. And that had to end as quickly as possible, too. “It
seems to me that having Chris openly around is the way to do it. I can approach
Rob myself, try to draw him out, but he’s not going to open up to me. I lived
with the man for two years and I can’t imagine what he thinks I have that would
be worth anything to him.”

“You’re worth far more than anything he could ever have.”

Emma stared at Chris. Had he really just said what she’d
thought he’d said? If so, he gave no indication of that fact. “Like I told you
last night, I’m pretty certain that the guy was feeling threatened by a possible
loss of something substantial,” Chris said to the detectives. “I wish I could
remember his exact words, but it was something about having put in almost five
years of his life and not letting someone else waltz in and get what he’d
earned.”

What a fool she’d been. What a fool fear had made her. “He was
always so supportive…” she said aloud. She’d made a mess of things. She looked
to Lucy. “I’m a bit of a worrywart,” she said, and was grateful when the female
detective’s gaze softened, though she’d have continued either way. “Rob was very
patient with me. He never criticized me for being so careful. And he was just as
supportive of my mother. He never complained about her clinginess. It’s hard for
me to believe that was all an act.”

“Could be that’s what he meant by putting in his time,” Ramsey
Miller said.

Lucy frowned. “But what would he ‘earn’? What could he possibly
think he’d lost?”

“Are you due to inherit any money? Or come into some kind of
settlement? Something to do with Claire, maybe?”

“No.” Emma would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so
tragic. Laughed without humor. “Mom had to file bankruptcy a few years ago
because of all the debt she’d accrued. Rob knew about it. There’s no money in
our family.”

Lucy sat forward in her chair. “What about your grandfather in
Florida?”

“He lives on social security.”

“So maybe Evert knows something you don’t know,” Miller said.
“Or thinks he does.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be. Our whole lives, other than
work, revolve around Claire. This has something to do with her. There’s simply
nothing else.”

“I was on my way back to Indiana tomorrow, but I can ask for a
couple of extra days and stay here with Emma,” Lucy said.

“Too obvious.” Miller shook his head, looking at Lucy. “Evert
saw you last night.”

“I’ll stay.” Chris’s words came from beside her.

Emma heard him clear down to her toes.

“We want the guy to believe I ignored his warning. To think
that Emma and I are getting hot and heavy…”